dear sister

I’m somehow on the side of TikTok (yes I am over there, but only as a lurker) where couples consisting of one partner who had siblings and another who was an only child tell horror stories. The sibling stories alway make me laugh, because no matter how outlandish or annoying the antics seem, I think to myself “yes, that tracks.” I’m the oldest of five, and being an older sister will NEVER not be part of my identity. Author Alison McGhee and illustrator Joe Bluhm's middle grade graphic novel Dear Sister is a sweet, middle-school-type tale of a new big brother’s relationship with his baby sister, told through his notes and drawings to and about her. And let me tell you, this book is packed with emotion and hilarity.

What do you do when you have an incredibly annoying little sister? Write her letters telling her so, of course! From New York Times bestselling author Alison McGhee comes a wickedly funny, illustrated, heartwarming, and searingly honest collection of letters from an older brother to his little sister.

Whininess, annoyingness, afraid of the darkness, refusal to eat lima beans, and pulling brother’s hair. These are the criteria on which little sisters are graded. Inspired by the notes Alison McGhee’s own kids would write each other, this heavily illustrated collection of letters and messages from an older brother to his little sister reveal the special love—or, at the very least, tolerance—siblings have for each other.

 

Sister arrives when the narrator is eight-years-old, and the book unfolds as a series of notes and drawings both to, and eventually back, from sister. As they age, both siblings’ drawings and penmanship grow in sophistication, and there are occasional spreads where the whole family is depicted as well. Brother provides progress reports on items like whininess, annoyingness, being afraid of the dark, and the unfairness of being forced to eat lima beans. Meanwhile their parents are the wardens, who punish him when he is unkind to Sister. Over the course of the book, annoyance slowly changes to grudging fondness, and eventually to brotherly love (but still with annoyance mixed in because no one is perfect!). 

McGhee’s narrative succeeds because it feels so authentic. Brother is typical in some ways, leaving messages like “Leave me alone” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” but these messages are mixed in with genuine worry when his little sister gets appendicitis. The ending is moving – maybe what you’d expect or maybe not – and the book ends when Brother goes off to college. Themes throughout are adjusting to a growing family, and learning how to be a good big brother, coming of age, and how friendship changes over the course of life no matter what. 

Bluhm’s art is mixed media, with most of the notes that make up the majority of the text in pencil or pen. As mentioned above, the illustrations and penmanship become more complex (and hilarious) as Brother grows older. The palette of blues and blacks pop against a white background, and Bluhm does a great job of letting the letters and notes themselves take center stage, and using illustrations for comic effect and to add to the overall meaning. It really feels as if you get a view into their life, but that the epistolary nature of the text still takes center stage.

In all, Dear Sister is a poignant, true-to-life illustrated take on becoming an older sibling and all that entails. Its portrayal of the funny, honest, and you’re-annoying-but-i-love-you realness of sibling relationships (without the rivalry aspect) is spot on.

Recommended for: readers ages 7+ (especially those with siblings of their own), aspiring artists, and fans of epistolary storytelling.

the well

I’ve had Jake Wyatt and Choo's young adult graphic novel The Well on my radar since 2022, when I was last a Cybils award judge in the graphic novel category. Its beautiful book cover and fable-esque blurb lured me in, and I bought a copy for myself (and indirectly, my classroom library). Two years later, I finally read it, and I can confirm that: the art is gorgeous, the story adventurous, the tone by turns playful and serious, and at under 180 pages, the length perfect for the lower end of the young adult crowd (13- to 15-year-olds). On the whole it’s a jewel box of a book! 

 

Li-Zhen’s life on the archipelago is simple. Known to friends and family as Lizzy, she takes care of her grandfather and their goats, she flirts with the woman who helps row the ferry, and she stays away from the fog that comes in the night—and the monsters hiding within it.

But Lizzy’s life comes apart when she steals a handful of coins from a sacred well to cover a debt. The well requires repayment, but it doesn’t deal in coins. It needs wishes, and its minions will drown Lizzy in its depths if she doesn’t grant them. Lizzy finds herself on a quest to uncover hidden memories, bestow great wealth, and face the magical secrets that nearly destroyed her family—and are now returning to threaten everything she has ever known.

In this breathtaking graphic novel, Jake Wyatt and Choo have created a modern fable based on magic and family secrets, exploring the power—and limits—of wishes.

 

Li-zhen (or Lizzy, as she goes by for much of the book) is young and excitable. She lives on a remote island with her grandfather Ah-gong, and they make their way in the world by raising goats. Life on the islands used to be very different: before the mists and sea monsters arrived, there was trade and movement. Lizzy’s grandmother, mother, and father all died in a heroic effort to defeat the Leviathan that threatened the Crescent islands, and Lizzy has inherited a tiny measure of their magic. Now as a teen, she is desperate to be out and about on her own. When a sea monster attacks the ferry to the market, and she overspends and doesn’t have enough for fare back, she takes money from a sacred well and is then cursed. To lift the curse, she will have to complete three seemingly impossible tasks, and in the process learn much about human nature and desire, and make peace with her family history.

The setting of The Well is unusual and interesting: a world post-climate apocalypse, with magical elements (the titular well holds mystical power) and modern sensibilities as far as dress and relationship and gender norms, but without electricity or connections to a wider world. The Crescent, the archipelago the story is set in, is haunted by an ever-present mist and lesser sea monsters that disrupt trade and community. The character names are a mix of Eastern and Western traditions, and there are several art elements that place the book somewhere in Asia or Asia-inspired, like the boats, aforementioned clothing styles, and inclusion of symbols (cherry blossoms, coins, etc.).

Other delightful elements: the magic, which actually plays a minor part for about half of the story. Magic is involved in the setting and set-up (and of course the curse and its follow-through), but overall minor magic does not affect Lizzy’s everyday life. The major magical events that shaped her world happened years prior. Additionally, the characters are endearing, heartbroken, resourceful, greedy, and more – in other words, they are flawed and dynamic. Lizzy herself grows over the course of the book from carefree and innocent (as much as one can be with such a weighty past) to self-aware, with a growing sense of responsibility. My favorite bit of dialogue on page 89 relates to a lesson about courage, bravery, and greed in the midst of Lizzy’s trials. Ah-gong says, “Courage is doing what is right and necessary, regardless of peril. Your parents were brave. Your grandmother was brave. Endangering yourself or others for the sake of wealth? Risking lives for a chance at ill-gotten gain? This is not courage. It is avarice.” This reminder about morally acceptable motivation is emblematic of the text’s message as a whole.

 

And the art! We mustn’t forget Choo’s fabulous art! With intricate and careful linework that is reminiscent of Tillie Walden’s work, and a color palette of purples, reds, oranges, and blues, the illustrations are the real standout of this book. That’s saying something given the engaging storyline! With mythical elements (a Leviathan, after all!), mist-shrouded landscapes, the trappings of a sea-faring society, and changes in perspective, the panels will transport the reader into the story and keep their attention until the very end.

In all, Wyatt and Choo’s The Well is an entertaining and satisfying adventure, with an unwitting (and at times unwilling) hero and heroics, an original world, and exquisite art. 

Recommended for: fans of fantasy graphic novels and manga, readers ages 10+, anyone looking to stock a bookshelf with shorter-length, high-interest fiction, and those captivated by the beautiful illustration on the book cover.

more than words: so may ways to say what we mean

Nowhere is the power of visual art over text more evident – for me, at least – than when it comes to selecting a picture book. I know that there are plenty of folks who pick picture books by genre, or “lessons” in the text, or the title, author, and so on. If I like the cover art, that’s it, I’m in! This was the case with Roz Maclean's picture book More than Words: So Many Ways to Say What We Mean. After reading it, I’m happy to report that it contains important messages about communication styles and access in addition to the stunning illustrations. But… it was the art that hooked me, and it will probably hook you (and your little ones) too!

Nathan doesn't say much.
He sure has a lot on his mind, though.

At school, Nathan quietly observes the ways his peers communicate. Even when they’re not talking, they’re expressing themselves in all sorts of ways!

By witnessing the beauty of communication diversity, Nathan learns and shows his classmates the essential lesson: Not only does everyone have something to say, but seeking to understand one another can be the greatest bridge to friendship and belonging.

This tender, stunningly illustrated picture book explores and celebrates the many forms of expression—signing, speaking, singing, smiling, among others—and culminates in a poignant story about connection and understanding.

Includes additional material at the end of the book with vocabulary, an introduction to various forms of communication, and information about communication access, perfect for back-to-school and classroom discussions.

Nathan is quiet at school – he thinks about digging under the trees growing outside and how many puddles there are in the schoolyard while his classmates verbalize their wants and needs. As the book progresses, we learn that talking is just one way to communicate our feelings and thoughts – other ways include facial expressions, writing, braille, typing, spelling, signing, singing and many more. All of Nathan’s classmates use different methods to share themselves, and learning to listen to those different ways is how Nathan and his classmates eventually make friends. 

More Than Words does not follow a traditional picture book narrative; instead it shows various young ones communicating in different ways on each page, before concluding with Nathan’s method on the final pages. That isn’t to say it isn’t unified – it is in theme and ideas, in its art style, and Nathan shows up in the foreground or background on several pages, silently observing his classmates. But it does not have a plot, so to speak. On the final two pages, after the “story” has concluded, there is a two-page spread of text on the definition of communication, communication styles and assistive devices, and a list of ways to help everyone have communication access. While they will likely not feature in storytimes, these pages will help adult readers answer any questions young ones have, and possibly spark an interest in fighting for communication access.

Maclean’s illustrations are totally fabulous, and take the book from an informational text to something transcendent. With gouache, pencil crayon, acrylic ink, and digital tools, they illustrate a whole spectrum of communication methods in bright, appealing colors. In the outside scenes, it’s autumn, with yellow-leaved trees and falling leaves, and indoor scenes feature beautifully-drawn details of the classroom and other school spaces. The communication styles are typically shown in a rainbow of color and draw the eye, but upon rereads there are other things that are fun to track from page to page – birds, toys, and more. Nathan’s world is a full one, and Maclean’s art makes it exciting to explore.

In all, this is a picture book about listening to others, and in doing so, gaining empathy and building friendship. It is for all ages, but especially young ones who struggle to understand the different communication styles of their peers.

Recommended for: children just starting kindergarten or joining new groups, storytimes at libraries, schools, or daycares, and anyone who appreciates colorful and beautiful picture book art.

 

Fine print: I received a digital copy of the text from the publisher at Picture Book Palooza. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

illegal

Several years ago, I read Eoin Colfer, Andrew Donkin and Giovanni Rigano's graphic novel Illegal as a Cybils Award judge, and wrote down some rough thoughts. Today, the day after an important US presidential election, I am finally publishing them. Since I’m writing this well in advance, I don’t yet know the results, but I do know that migration – whether it is deemed legal or illegal – is one of the most important moral, ethical, and political issues of our time. Books that tackle immigration and migration in nuanced, empathetic ways are godsend, and this particular volume is in heavy rotation during choice reading time in my classroom. Kids care, and adults should too!

A powerfully moving graphic novel by New York Times bestselling author Eoin Colfer and the team behind the Artemis Fowl graphic novels that explores the current plight of undocumented immigrants.

Ebo is alone. His brother, Kwame, has disappeared, and Ebo knows it can only be to attempt the hazardous journey to Europe, and a better life—the same journey their sister set out on months ago.

But Ebo refuses to be left behind in Ghana. He sets out after Kwame and joins him on the quest to reach Europe. Ebo's epic journey takes him across the Sahara Desert to the dangerous streets of Tripoli, and finally out to the merciless sea. But with every step he holds on to his hope for a new life, and a reunion with his family.

Prefacing the book is Elie Wiesel’s quote, “...No human being is illegal.” Twelve-year-old Ebo is following his brother Kwame from Ghana to Europe. They think their older sister Sisi is already there, but they haven’t heard from her, and their useless uncle drinks. As orphans, they have only each other to rely on. Ebo’s singing voice is his one talent, and both brothers work at each point in the journey to make money for their next crossing, whatever that might be. They face many dangers: the desert, unreliable smugglers, armed police, an unforgiving climate, lack of water, food, and shelter, and an ocean crossing when no one can swim. In the midst of these crises, they experience rare moments of human kindness that transcend language barriers, and help them survive.

It is important to have stories like Ebo’s in the world: they humanize the immigration journeys from news reports and widen the circle of those who both know and pay attention to this struggle. That said, I wish that there had been some people of color, or those who had experienced migration involved in the making of the book. The term “illegals” has been thrown around countless times in America’s political sphere in the past decade to dehumanize and stoke hate. That hate has real consequences. Education and empathy are a huge step towards dispelling those negative forces, and this book will contribute to both. I also wish that there were more resources tied to it to encourage interested readers to continue their research. It would pair well with graphic novels based on true stories, such as Unwanted: Stories of Syrian Refugees or When Stars Are Scattered.

The art in Illegal is beautiful, particularly the landscapes. For a book about migration, there is not much movement in the illustrations – panels focus instead on conversations that take place in one location, and then the next panels are set in a new place. The story overall leans much more on text than art as a storytelling device, and this works, though the art is lovely enough to draw in readers. There are lots of blues and purples: for the ocean, during rainy scenes, or during nighttime (the most convenient time for smuggling).

In all, this story will humanize migrants and build empathy, and though it has no direct call to action, it will make the empathetic want to help children like Ebo and Kwame.

Recommended for: middle and high school libraries and classrooms, readers who loved Alan Gratz’s Refugee, and fans of well-made adventure graphic novels.