soul machine

I try to keep on top of new graphic novel releases for two reasons. One, they are by far the most popular reads in my classroom library. My students gobble them up during choice reading time. Two, I personally love a good sci-fi or fantasy story, and some of the best new work in that genre is produced in graphic novel format. So when I found out about Jordana Globerman’s Soul Machine, I placed a pre-order. It didn’t hurt that it was during Barnes & Noble’s preorder sale, either!

Chloe and her older sister make souls by hand in an empty old house in the countryside. When their supply of breth—the raw material needed to make souls—runs dry, the evil MCorp tries to force them to franchise and make synthetic souls instead. Chloe sets out to the big city in hopes of finding a new source. And maybe a way to modernize their business that Lacey is so determined to keep in the past.

On a journey to find a real breth crop, untouched by MCorp’s greedy hands, Chloe uncovers long-buried family secrets—and starts to question whom to trust and what reality even is.

A beautifully rendered debut, Soul Machine is at once a metaphysical science-fiction story and a nuanced exploration of big ideas: spirituality, family, consciousness, and connection, but also unscrupulous consumption, megacorporations, and how egomaniac entrepreneurs impact our lives.

Soul Machine is the story of two sisters, Chloe and Lucy, trying to carry out their parents' wishes and rescue their dying family business (and failing). Their parents are dead or disappeared, and while younger sister Chloe is full of optimism about answers, and ready to charge out into the world to try and find a way to keep the business afloat, Lucy – who has been Chloe’s de facto parent – is more skeptical. They are insulated in the countryside, but in the city, MCorp reigns through monopoly and is promising an artificial counterpart to their family’s handmade product: souls. When Chloe reaches the city and encounters two very different women, she begins to doubt the story of her family that Lucy has always told her, and to doubt her way forward for the world. What will happen next?

My honest opinion is that this book was trying to be and do too many things, and so it succeeded at none of them. The story started with sisterly combativeness, which didn’t ring true from the very beginning – there wasn’t enough emotional depth evident (especially on Lucy’s side), and the dialogue was awkward before the sisters separated and the plot moved forward. Which leads me to my second issue: DIALOGUE in general. One of the ways dialogue was mishandled was in the character of Maya, the ever-present figurehead of MCorp, which seemingly controlled the consumer-based society. Maya as a figurehead seemed to embody physical perfection, a la the Kardashians, as well as a tech mogul position (think Mark Zuckerberg). She is meant to be a satirical caricature, which, fine. However, to signify her actual incompetence – in other words, to break down the stereotype of a creative genius founder – Maya uses slang. Words like “boo” and “okurr” pop up in her speech bubbles. This usage of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) in a narrative in which there are no major people of color is racially charged in a bad way.

Author-illustrator Globerman is also trying to set up a classist hippie (who wants to dictate who deserves a soul) vs. capitalist robber baron hate match. Given that the story is told from Chloe’s POV, and she has serious gaps in her understanding of the issues at hand, info-dumping is necessary, and for both sides it comes off at times as villain (or antihero) monologuing. The insubstantial feel of the “science” in the book and its lack of emotional heart combine with the above and muddle the message overall. The attempt is ambitious, and I applaud it – we need more young adult and middle grade books that delve into the “big” problems of society. However, I don’t think it coheres in Soul Machine.

My one major love in this book = the illustrations. Globerman’s art, with distinctive inking and panels colored mostly in shades of either pink or blue, are beautiful, interesting, and add depth. The book is worth rifling through for the art alone. I will certainly be keeping my eye out for Globerman’s work in the future.

While this satirical and metaphysical young adult graphic novel did not work for me, some will enjoy its engrossing art, and its attempt to tackle major societal issues.

Recommended for: fans of graphic novel art, ambitious science fiction ideas, and satire.

hockey girl loves drama boy

In a moment of reading serendipity, a friend recently recommended to me a book that I already had on my to-read list (and better yet, had already bought!). That book was Faith Erin Hicks’ 2023 young adult graphic novel Hockey Girl Loves Drama Boy. I was sold at hockey + rom-com, but with a friend’s genuine excitement in play, it moved up to the top of the pile, and I finished it – and loved it – earlier this month, just in time for Valentine’s Day.

It should have been a night of triumph for Alix’s hockey team. But her mean teammate Lindsay decided to start up with her usual rude comments and today Alix, who usually tries to control her anger, let it finally run free. Alix lashes out and before she knows it, her coach is dragging her off Lindsay, and the invitation to the Canada National Women’s U18 Team’s summer camp is on the line.

She needs to learn how to control this anger, and she is sure Ezra, the popular and poised theater kid from her grade is the answer. So she asks for his help. But as they hang out and start get closer, Alix learns that there is more to Ezra than the cool front he puts on. And that maybe this friendship could become something more...

Alix loves hockey and hockey loves her back. However, her team captain Lindsey has been slowly breaking down that passion with bullying, and one day Alix snaps and responds with physical aggression. In an effort to learn how to control and move past her anger, Alix reaches out to well-liked, poised drama geek Ezra. With Ezra’s help, Alix hopes to prove to her coach that she deserves a spot at a prestigious hockey camp. Somewhere in the midst of hanging out at his family’s second hand store, going to a public ice skate (peak Canadian!), and helping to put together the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors, Alix and Ezra start to crush on each other. However, Ezra’s best friend is upset that he's hanging out with Alix, and Alix’s mom (a Canadian-famous artist) isn’t a fan of hockey for her own reasons… among other impediments. Will it all turn out in the end? Spoiler alert: there’s a rom-com worthy happy ending!

Author-illustrator Hicks’ characters are the highlight of this story. Quiet, stoic-seeming Aliz is learning to deal with an excess of emotion all of a sudden, and navigating complex and fraught family relationships as well as a romantic relationship for the first time. It’s enough to stress anyone out, but Alix’s drive to improve in hockey fuels changes in other areas of her life as well. Alix is open to new experiences, and so she grows! Other main character Ezra seems like he has his life together, but he too is struggling – with trust, and to be a good person – to not take advantage of those who love him. Together, they’re a delightful bundle of hormones, issues, and identity crises. How does Hicks turn this into a viable rom-com after all??! 

First, with character revelations, like the fact that Ezra is still figuring out his sexual identity, but he can fight homophobic bullies in the meantime! And then a road trip complete with pancakes and a car breakdown, and finally, with a hockey game and boba tea. Throw it all together, and you get a graphic novel that is, at times, too cute for words!

Hicks’ illustrations feature black ink linework on a white background, with some spots of sky blue as highlights, and really focus on details that move the plot along. There’s a lot of movement and emotion in Hicks’ drawings, which for this book were drawn first digitally, and then inked on paper with a watercolor brush. Some of my favorite scenes were ones that included hockey play, but my absolute favorite panels were two where Alix is thinking about Ezra and has a bunch of little hearts floating around her head, and then they “pop!” like bubbles as she convinces herself that there’s no way that Ezra could return her feelings. All that to say, the story would be great regardless, but the illustrations add wonderful layers of enjoyment and meaning. 

In all, Hockey Girl Loves Drama Boy is a satisfying young adult romance with LGBTQ+ representation, excellent swoon factor, and art that will knock your socks off. 

Recommended for: fans of young adult romances and hockey, and anyone looking for an authentic and heartwarming story!

2024 book gift guide

As in past years (2021, 2022), I present to you a book gift guide. This is more a record of the books I’m gifting in the 2024 holiday season than anything else, but if you still need a few presents and have a bookstore nearby, I heartily recommend each and every title herein. Not all books are new this year – I’ve added the year of publication in parentheses if this matters to you. And if you (or your child) are someone I give to… look away, lest you be spoiled!

Board books for babies (ages 0-2):

Look Twice by Giuliano Ferri (2022) – A tried-and-proven board book. This one has minimal text, baby-friendly page cut-outs, and art with a bit of a spray-painted look.

Picture books for littles (ages 3-5):

Cat Family Christmas: A Lift-the-Flap Advent Book by Lucy Brownridge, illustrated by Eunyoung Soo (2022) – I love an advent calendar, and lift-the-flap books are reliably popular with little ones. Also, a cat family at Christmas?! Automatic win.

Tis the Season: A Lift-the-Flap Advent Calendar Full of Christmas Poems illustrated by Richard Jones (2024) – I already had my eye on advent books, so when this one came across my feed this year I put it on my shopping list. Love the art style, and with festive poems, it’s bound to be a perennial favorite!

A Flash of Color and Light: A Biography of Dave Chihuly by Sharon Mentyka, illustrated by Shelley Couvillion (2024) – This title “is a celebration of color, light, glass, and Dale Chihuly’s enormous contribution to the field of glassmaking and art.”

We Are Definitely Human by X. Fang (2024) – This funny, clever, and gorgeously-illustrated picture book is one of my favorites this year. It celebrates the kindness of humans, too, which is a great message for any season.

Books for early readers (ages 6-7):

Little Shrew by Akiko Miyakoshi, translated by Kids Can Press (2024) – This “slice of life story is understated, beautiful, and delightfully charming. It’s going in every holiday stocking this winter!” DELIGHTFUL.

Mayor Good Boy by Dave Scheidt and Miranda Harmon (2021) – I haven’t read this one myself, but this first in a graphic novel series comes HIGHLY recommended by one of my niblings (yes, I have gifted this one before!!). 

Science Comics: Crows by Kyla Vanderklugt (2020) – A good choice for the reader who likes nonfiction, this title is a highly-rated entry in the Science Comics series. Can’t wait to be bombarded with crow facts. :)

Slightly older elementary school kids (ages 8-12):

Forces of Destiny by Elsa Charretier, Jody Houser, Delilah S. Dawson, Beth Revis, Devin Grayson, and Pierrick Colin, illustrated by Arianna Florean, Eva Widermann, Valentina Pinto, and Nicoletta Baldari (2018) – I’ve been hanging onto this book until the recipient was the right age! It’s a slim graphic novel volume on Star Wars’ heroines, and I’m sure it’ll thrill this kiddo.

Squire & Knight by Scott Chantler (2023) – For a young reader who appreciates a strong dose of humor and chivalry in their reading.

The Night Mother Vol. 1 by Jeremy Lambert, illustrated by Alexa Sharpe (2024) – A full-color, gorgeously-illustrated series-starter of a graphic novel volume that brings together: clocks, a girl who can hear the dead, and a ripping adventure story.

Grace Needs Space! by Benjamin A. Wilgus, illustrated by Rii Abrego (2023) – I read this graphic novel right before wrapping it up, and it’s so adorable I could just squish it. Abrego’s (of The Sprite and the Gardener fame) illustrations are incredible – Grace’s eyes especially are something special, and evoke lots of authentic pre-teen emotion.

Tiffany’s Griffon by Magnolia Porter Siddell, illustrated by Maddi Gonzalez (2024) – A fantastical middle grade graphic novel about a girl who desperately wants to be the star of a story, but ends up as the sidekick. 

A Place to Hang the Moon by Kate Albus (2021) – The only non-graphic novel for this category, this middle grade historical fiction set in Britain during WWII has Narnia and found-family vibes.

Graphic novels for the teen crowd (ages 13-18):

Mythmakers: The Remarkable Fellowship of C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien by John Hendrix (2024) – Speaking of Narnia, are you curious about author C.S. Lewis and his famous fantasy author friend Tolkien? If so, this book is perfect for you. Great for ages 13+ – it also has strong adult crossover appeal.

Young Hag and the Witches’ Quest by Isabel Greenberg (2024) – Know any teens into witchy tales, folklore, and/or Arthurian myths? This retelling is appropriately gruesome, and has the potential to engage both reluctant and enthusiastic readers alike. 

For adults:

The Jinn-Bot of Shanti-Port by Samit Basu (2023) – I saw this one pitched as having Murderbot and mystery vibes. I need to get a copy for myself, too!

Toward Eternity by Anton Hur (2024) – Hur is the translator of several well-regarded books, and this is their sci-fi debut with notes on AI and climate. 

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World by Robin Wall Kimmerer, illustrations by John Burgoyne (2024) – The author of Braiding Sweetgrass is back with a short book on natural reciprocity. 

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley (2024) – From my review at Orange Blossom Ordinary, this story about a time-traveling, doomed Arctic explorer “is hugely entertaining and thoughtful, then casually devastating, and ends on a note of hopeful ambiguity – a most enjoyable science fiction reading experience.”

The Full Moon Coffee Shop by Mai Mochizuki, translated by Jesse Kirkwood (2024) – On the full moon, a mysterious coffee shop appears, staffed by cats who solve problems by serving patrons delicious food! What’s not to love?

Butter by Asako Yuzuki, translated by Polly Barton (2024) – Billed as a killer mystery for foodies, and an international bestseller at that!

Not books, but gifts you can find in a bookstore (links to Barnes & Noble):

Elephant & Piggie socks – For your friend who wants cozy feet with bookish style.

2025 Art Page-A-Day Gallery Calendar – Art, every day of the year!

What books are you gifting this year?

sunhead

I went to the bookstore over the summer to pick up a newly-released graphic novel that the internet promised they had in stock. Unfortunately they couldn’t find it once I got there. While the unfruitful search was taking place, I picked Alex Assan's young adult graphic novel Sunhead off the shelves and decided to give it a try. This volume is a quick read at 250 pages and its story will resonate with the younger end of the young adult demographic (13-to-15-year-olds). With a focus on visual storytelling over dialogue, it will appeal even to those who are not confident in their reading abilities.

Rotem is a Sunhead, a fan of the international smash hit Sunrise series of books and films. She’s obsessed with the story’s love interest, Edmund, and no one else gets it. But all that changes when she befriends Ayala, a shy classmate and avid book lover who’s as swept away by the romance as she is. The two become fast friends, but as their deep connection grows stronger, Rotem starts to wonder: What exactly draws her to this story?

Alex Assan’s debut, Sunhead, is an earnest coming-of-age graphic novel that explores how the stories we love help us understand our friendships, our relationships, and ourselves.

 

Rotem is a Sunhead, a rabid fan of the fictional Sunrise series of books, about a vampire named Edmund who goes to high school and falls in love with a human girl named Zoe. If you are thinking to yourself… that sounds familiar… You are right. Sunhead in this instance = Twihard (fan of the Twilight books). The parallels are there in the imagery, storylines, etc. In any case, Rotem is obsessed, and no one else around her understands. When she convinces schoolmate Ayala to read the book, Rotem suddenly has a partner in obsession. Sunhead is a slice-of-life comic where a book and its main character act as catalysts for Rotem’s changing sense of self.

In Sunhead, author-illustrator Assan beautifully captures the awkwardness of hormones, the relief and joy of escapism in imagining that you are somewhere else or someone else, and the agony of having romantic feelings for someone for the first time. The story is told from Rotem’s perspective, and she is the only fully realized character in the book. Much of the story is taken up with her reactions to conflict, musings on Sunrise, and self-isolation. Rotem doesn’t have a clear idea of who she is yet, but her first experience with making a friend (Ayala) based on her niche interests leads to intense conversations, longing glances, and acting impulsively on new feelings and then running away. In other words, it is awkward and an accurate encapsulation of the teenage experience.

 

A note on the setting: I did not realize before diving into the book that Rotem was an Israeli teenager, nor that the book was set in Tel Aviv – this information is not included anywhere in the book blurb. After reading Sunhead, I can see why: the setting plays such a minor part that it could really be set almost anywhere. The only clues seemed to be comments that Rotem made about waiting for Hebrew translations of the Sunrise books and subtitles for the Sunrise film. The time period also seems to be the early 2000s – with computers but without ubiquitous cell phones. The Tel-Aviv depicted in Sunhead is bloodless and featureless, and that feels problematic in our current timeline. Author Assan is visibly pro-Palestine on social media, and talks openly about gay Israeli community, but these do not come through in the book. I can understand why, because Sunhead is all about Rotem’s coming of age and internality, and her perspective is limited and immature, but it does feel like a disservice to the place, its people, and its history.

 

Let’s talk art! Assan used digital tools to create Sunhead, but the soft lines are reminiscent of either charcoal or brushwork, and the subtlety in shading and coloring of watercolor. Assan uses traditional rectangular panels throughout except for the daydream Sunrise sequences, which are more freeform and loose, and set apart from the rest of the text in tones of pink and red. The art overall is colored in a visually appealing and warm palette of yellows, reds and browns. Assan’s storytelling relies heavily on facial expressions and closeups of body language. So much so that there is a 45-page-long section of wordless text towards the end of the book. I understand the effect the artist was hoping to achieve, but so many pages without text make it easy to flip through quickly, without paying attention to details, and as such may lose the poignancy the author is trying to convey.

In all, Sunhead is a quick read with a slightly unfinished feel. It focuses on Rotem’s joy and angst in falling deeply in love with a book, and how the important stories from our teen years can change us forever.

Recommended for: young teens (think ages 13+) of all reading levels, anyone who has ever fallen deeply into obsession with a book, and fans of queer coming-of-age and slice-of-life stories.

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.

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.

the baker and the bard

This June one of our local bookstores, One More Page Books, offered Sur-PRIDE boxes – you could pay $25 or $50 for a personally curated surprise package featuring queer books, goodies, and chocolate. You could even share a little bit about yourself and your reading preferences to guide the booksellers in putting together the right box for you. It sounded really fun, so I ordered a box! Fern Haught's fantasy young adult graphic novel The Baker and the Bard was one of the books in my package – and I was glad to see it because I’d been eyeing the cover art for a few months on other bookstore visits. 

 

Juniper and Hadley have a good thing going in Larkspur, spending their respective days apprenticing at a little bakery and performing at the local inn. But when a stranger makes an unusual order at the bakery, the two friends (and Hadley’s pet snake, Fern) set out on a journey to forage the magical mushrooms needed to make the requested galette pastries.

Along the way, Juniper and Hadley stumble across a mystery too compelling to ignore: Something has been coming out of the woods at night and eating the local farmers' crops, leaving only a trail of glowy goo behind. Intent on finally going on an adventure that could fuel their bardic craft, Hadley tows Juniper into the woods to investigate.

What started as a simple errand to pick mushrooms soon turns into a thrilling quest to save some furry new friends—and their caretaker, a softspoken little fey named Thistle—who are in danger of losing their home.

The Baker and the Bard’s subtitle “A Cozy Fantasy Adventure” definitely lives up to its billing. This brief volume clocks in at just under 150 pages, and it follows baker June and bard Hadley as they go on a brief journey and solve a mystery to save the day (or really, find a rare ingredient to make some fancy pastries on time for a rich patron!). The world they live in is vaguely medieval, and contains all sorts of mythological creatures – June is a faun with pink hair, and Hadley a blue elf (?) with a snake sidekick named Fern. Their adventure is basic and easily solved – there are no bumps or snags in the road here – just some mild misunderstandings. The book as a whole is beautifully illustrated, but feels like the definition of “fantasy vibes” instead of a fully-fleshed out adventure.

That isn’t to say it isn’t gorgeous, or worthy – it just has more vibes than plot! Part of its appeal is that there is no conflict… but plenty of beautifully illustrated scenes with interesting landscapes, gorgeous clothes, colorful creatures and people, and of course tasty looking baked goods. As characters, June and Hadley’s motivations are fairly clear from the outset: June would like to start her own bakery and be with Hadley, and Hadley would like to go on an adventure, get to know her own queer identity a little bit better, and be with June. And the townspeople would like to find out what is destroying their crops, and… well, I won’t spoil that last bit. Readers will find a lot to like here if they don’t mind a bit of meandering and focus on the incredible art over text and plot.

Let’s talk about that art! Haught works with digital tools to paint a gorgeous, fantastical world filled with landscapes, meticulously-detailed tailoring, and bold color choices. Part of the “cozy” feel of the book comes from the art itself: its pastel-adjacent palette, the interplay of line art (which mimics colored pencil or crayon), coloring and shading style, and character design. The peaches, pinks, greens, blues, and purples *feel* magical, and dovetail nicely with the actual magic depicted in the book (such as snapping to give Hadley and Fern matching deerstalker hats as they investigate the local mystery). The visual art is what maintains interest in the book, and it is worth a read for that alone.

In all, The Baker and the Bard is a low-stakes fantasy with a mild and cozy aura. It can be read in one sitting, and would pair nicely with a cup of tea and a pastry of your choice.

Recommended for: fans of The Tea Dragon Society series by K. O’Neill, and anyone who likes the look of the cover art. Suitable for ages 9+!

across a field of starlight

I am always happy to read science fiction. That’s especially true in today’s modern sci-fi landscape, where more queer, diverse stories are available from major publishers all the time. One of the titles that I’ve had on my radar for a while is Blue Delliquanti’s young adult graphic novel Across a Field of Starlight. Reading for the graphic novel panel for the Cybils Awards gave me the nudge I needed to pick it up, and I fell in love with its innovative plot, excellent characters, and themes. It was one of my favorite books of the year!

When they were kids, Fassen's fighter spaceship crash-landed on a planet that Lu's survey force was exploring. It was a forbidden meeting between a kid from a war-focused resistance movement and a kid whose community and planet are dedicated to peace and secrecy.

Lu and Fassen are from different worlds and separate solar systems. But their friendship keeps them in each other's orbit as they grow up. They stay in contact in secret as their communities are increasingly threatened by the omnipresent, ever-expanding empire.

As the empire begins a new attack against Fassen's people--and discovers Lu's in the process--the two of them have the chance to reunite at last. They finally are able to be together...but at what cost?

This beautifully illustrated graphic novel is an epic science fiction romance between two non-binary characters as they find one another through time, distance, and war.

 

Across a Field of Starlight is a sci-fi epic. The Ever-Blossoming Empire and the Fireback resistance are at war, and almost everyone is caught in the cross-hairs – including young Fassen, a resistance orphan, and Lu, part of a neutral party survey team who find them stranded planet-side in the aftermath. These two, in a moment born of stress, find a way to stay in touch despite diverging paths, and the rest is a story of resistance, of broadening perspectives, of unimaginable technology, and of finding ways to do the right thing, even when it is hard.

 

Fassen has grown up in the resistance, and knows no other world but one of duties, working for your food allotment, and dreaming of destroying the Empire at all costs. Lu, on the other hand, has a best friend who is an AI, pilots their own small research vessel, and lives in a secretive community that doesn’t welcome combatants on either side of the galactic war. They maintain a friendship based on storytelling and delayed communication but cannot share most of their lives with each other. When Fassen is faced with choices that stretch their understanding of right and wrong, Lu and the Field community show them another way of being – but there are deeper and more dangerous elements at play than culture clash. The future of the resistance, and the future of humanity, may be at stake.

 

I really appreciated the way that this story was one that echoed themes in other popular sci-fi franchises (the Star Wars films, for one), while making its own, hopeful way. Fassen’s place in the Fireback resistance is one that depends on healthy soldiers, and each soldier only has as much value as they bring to the war effort. Lu’s world is completely different – a commune based on mutual aid, sharing, and personal choice beyond subsistence. Author-illustrator Delliquanti asks the reader, through their characters, to consider a kinder, less capitalistic, and more peaceful future for humanity, and resists falling into the storytelling pitfalls of white saviorism and all resistance = good. Across a Field of Starlight is amazingly complex for a young adult graphic novel, and while it won’t appeal to all readers, I loved it.

 

I also appreciated the fact that Lu is Black and fat, and there’s no discussion of that at all – it’s just the way they are, and Fassen (and other characters’) genderqueer/trans identities are only brought up in the context of being able to afford meds, or what accommodations they must make to appear in a way that matches their identity, or why they might idolize certain other characters. The narrative doesn’t ask them to suffer, or give up their ideals, or even to fall in love, to be who they want to be. I found that added a refreshing, optimistic, and satisfying note to go along with some heavier, more serious notes in the story.

 

Delliquanti’s art is a major highlight of the book – it’s colorful, imaginative, makes great use of lighting, and totally sells the sci-fi elements of the plot with small details and costuming. A note in the book shares that Delliquanti plots & thumbnails on paper, and then completes the rest of their process digitally. The result is a polished, warm, and interesting take on science and space. There is no cold distance in Delliquanti’s art – it is amazingly cozy, with a rainbow palette. It doesn’t dwell much on the emptiness of space, but instead on the human lives that people it, and how they intend to survive (and thrive) together.

 

In all, Across a Field of Starlight is not to be missed – it’s beautiful, hopeful, and set in a galaxy that will feel welcome and unique all at once.

 

Recommended for: all young adult graphic novel enthusiasts, fans of LGBTQ+ fiction, and anyone who likes their sci-fi with a heavy dose of hope and cozy vibes, à la Becky Chambers’ The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet.

numb to this: memoir of a mass shooting

There’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom door. I was puttering around last Friday, packing up before Winter Break, and I changed my sign over to show my latest read, Kindra Neely’s graphic novel Numb to This: Memoir of a Mass Shooting. A student who has struggled in my class asked me about it, and then wanted to see the book, and then asked when is it gonna be on the bookshelf? I was reading a library copy, but you can bet I placed an order for this one as soon as I had a spare moment. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than finding a book (the right one, the one they choose!) for that student who needs it. And on top of that, this book is a must-read – an important, shattering story from a gun violence survivor – a chance to listen to someone share what that aftermath looks and feels like. 

 

Kindra Neely never expected it to happen to her. No one does. Sure, she’d sometimes been close to gun violence, like when the house down the street from her childhood home in Texas was targeted in a drive-by shooting. But now she lived in Oregon, where she spent her time swimming in rivers with friends or attending classes at the bucolic Umpqua Community College.

And then, one day, it happened: a mass shooting shattered her college campus. Over the span of a few minutes, on October 1, 2015, eight students and a professor lost their lives. And suddenly, Kindra became a survivor. This empathetic and ultimately hopeful graphic memoir recounts Kindra’s journey forward from those few minutes that changed everything.

It wasn’t easy. Every time Kindra took a step toward peace and wholeness, a new mass shooting devastated her again. Las Vegas. Parkland. She was hopeless at times, feeling as if no one was listening. Not even at the worldwide demonstration March for Our Lives. But finally, Kindra learned that—for her—the path toward hope wound through art, helping others, and sharing her story.

 

Kindra Neely survived the Umpqua Community College mass shooting in Oregon in 2015, and her beautiful, poignant, and searing memoir of the years after is absolutely required reading. There’s some background and context-setting, but the majority of Neely’s book focuses on the day of the shooting and what happened next: how she reacted in the short- and long-term, the impact of PTSD on her life, and the reality of a suicide attempt: all while presenting a front to the world. In the 300 pages of this debut graphic novel, Neely lays herself bare for a purpose, saying “I…went looking for a book about how to deal with the aftermath of a shooting, but I couldn’t find one. Maybe I could make a book to show people like me that they aren’t alone, or that their feelings are normal.”

 

Neely’s story is not just one of trauma, though it does deal with that. It keeps the tension between hope (she survived, she keeps surviving, she finds meaning in making art & helping others) and realism (there are bad days full of fear, depression is very real, and some people are uncomfortable around those who are open about their trauma). The pacing and scene changes are also telegraphed well and keep the “journey” of Neely’s life (narrative) moving. It is also heartwarming to see the real-life friends come alongside Neely in tough moments, and vice versa, even though no one is without flaws (except maybe Neely’s mom). The supportive, healthy relationships and networks from her life are excellent guides for young readers to follow, internalize, and model in their own lives.

 

Pacing and storytelling in the graphic novel format rely so much on the art… and I just want to say that Neely’s art is fabulous. I would have no idea that this was a debut – her style and linework are polished, modern, and evocative. The emotion bleeds through the pages, and while this volume is in full color, I think Neely’s neat linework and focus on facial expressions would work in any color palette. There’s doesn’t seem to be a predominant or overarching color theme, but teals and purples show up quite a bit in scenes set in Oregon, and harsh yellows and reds during moments of stress and trauma. Overt symbolism of dragonflies appears throughout (and is explained directly in the text).

 

Overall, Neely’s story and art are indistinguishable/inseparable – and the result, a compulsively-readable volume, allows her to be vulnerable in the service of helping others. Numb to This is heart-wrenching and incisive and belongs in every high school library in the country.

 

Recommended for: high school nonfiction collections, and anyone ages 14+ who has been touched by a mass shooting in some way (at this point, everyone in the US).

alte zachen / old things

One of the things I value about volunteering as a Cybils Awards judge is the element of book discovery. I have publishers, authors, librarians, bloggers, etc. that I trust to suggest excellent titles, and I don’t step outside that circle very often. But the Cybils push me to read more widely within a genre (in this year’s case, in graphic novels). One book that I’m not sure I would have picked up on my own? Nominee Alte Zachen / Old Things by Ziggy Hanaor, illustrated by Benjamin Phillips. And that would have been a tragedy because it’s a heart-full title, and one I’ve been thinking of over and over since I put it down. 

 

A beautifully illustrated and presented intergenerational graphic novel that follows 11-year-old Benji and his elderly grandmother, Bubbe Rosa, as they traverse Brooklyn and Manhattan, gathering the ingredients for a Friday night dinner.

Bubbe’s relationship with the city is complex – nothing is quite as she remembered it and she feels alienated and angry at the world around her. Benji, on the other hand, looks at the world, and his grandmother, with clear-eyed acceptance. As they wander the city, we catch glimpses of Bubbe’s childhood in Germany, her young adulthood in 1950s Brooklyn, and her relationships; first with a baker called Gershon, and later with successful Joe, Benji’s grandfather. Gradually we piece together snippets of Bubbe’s life, gaining an insight to some of the things that have formed her cantankerous personality. The journey culminates on the Lower East Side in a moving reunion between Rosa and Gershon, her first love. As the sun sets, Benji and his Bubbe walk home over the Williamsburg Bridge to make dinner.

This is a powerful, affecting and deceptively simple story of Jewish identity, of generational divides, of the surmountability of difference and of a restless city and its inhabitants.

 

In Alte Zachen (Yiddish for “old things,” as the title suggests), grandmother Rosa and her young grandson Benji zigzag New York City on a mission: to gather the necessary ingredients for Friday night dinner. Along the way Rosa comments on the changes in the city, and in life and culture over time. Some of these remembrances and flashbacks are sweet, but many are bittersweet, or sad, or resonate with unfulfilled longing. The parallel journeys of a modern-day shopping trip and a long life, combined with watercolor illustrations in a wash of grays and other muted colors, create a deeply impactful narrative.

 

Some of the most poignant moments in the book occur when Bubbe Rosa is rude, and Benji must deal with this embarrassment in the moment, and buffer between her and others. These moments aren’t indicative of a cruel temperament, but rather open the way for the reader to learn about some of the traumas of Rosa’s life: escaping to Switzerland from Germany ahead of the Holocaust, the loss of old love, changes to cultural norms, and more. At the same time, you feel almost viscerally for Benji, who loves his grandmother but is trying to gracefully manage in the real world. His Bubbe is trying to impart words and traditions (there’s a Yiddish glossary at the back for context if the reader is struggling), and Benji is just trying to get them to the shops and back without incident. It’s sweet, authentic, and entirely human.

 

Phillips’ art – a muted watercolor palette in the book – contrasts with the bright orange of the book’s spine, title, and end papers (illustrations of lots of everyday food items in black-and-white on an orange background in a repeating pattern). The art feels unfinished and unpolished in a way, even as it washes over memorable architecture in precise detail. There are wordless stretches, where the art is the only context, and Phillips’ art then shines with the attention to expressions, small details, and the elements of culture: dancing, music, and family. Somehow, they all come to life, in real ways.

 

In all, Alte Zachen / Old Things is a tribute to memory, to culture, and to intergenerational relationships. It’s a lovely meditation on how we pass on ourselves to our loved ones – imperfectly, but with care (and feeding). I loved it, and I think you will too.

 

Recommended for: fans of contemporary graphic novels featuring intergenerational relationships, Jewish traditions and culture, and city life. Excellent reading and art for the 12+ set, though appropriate for younger ones as well.

2022 book gift guide

 

It’s time for my annual book gift guide! This is only the second time I’ve done one, and last year’s effort was a last-minute, slapdash list of the books that I was gifting to friends and family. That’s what this year’s list is too, but at least it’s not the 11th hour. [Insert laughing crying emoji] As always, these aren’t all newly released books, but they’re books I found this year & am gifting for the holidays!

 

Friends and family: If you are seeing this, it might be a spoiler alert for you and/or your child. Read on at your own risk!

 

Board books for babies (ages 0-2):

 

What is a Sloth? by Ginger Swift, illustrated by Manu Montoya – A shiny, short, lift-a-flap board book for babies. I’m getting this one for the newest nibling.

 

Crack-Crack! Who Is That? by Tristan Mory – There’s a handle to pull, sound effects, and baby animals appear – this board book is inventive fun and sure to delight the youngest readers, either read independently or with an adult for storytime.

 

Little Red Barn by Ginger Swift – This board book has a unique shape and fun lift-a-flap adventures on a farm with a little red barn. Nothing new or spectacular, but a solid choice!

 

Bumblebee Grumblebee by David Elliot – The only board book on this list without an interactive element on the page. Instead, this one has fun wordplay that will make little ones smile and allow adults to play along with silly rhymes and made up words.

 

Picture books for littles (ages 3-5):

 

Pip & Pup by Eugene Yelchin – A wordless picture book featuring a tiny chick and a farmhouse dog who fears storms. Expressive features and layouts help parents (or children themselves) tell this empathetic story.

 

Farmhouse by Sophie Blackall – New from the Caldecott Award-winning artist, this title’s meticulously detailed pages feature dollhouse-like cutaways of a house and the many generations and families who lived in it. For little ones who might someday grow up to read & love the Little House or Anne of Green Gables books.

 

City Under the City by Dan Yaccarino – A charmingly illustrated picture book/early reader with an intriguing sci-fi premise. Great pick for a wide range of ages – I can see this being a hit read aloud choice with a four-year-old, and also a very proud accomplishment independent read for a six- or seven-year-old.

 

Full Moon by Camila Pintonato – Answers the ever-pressing question: What do animals get up to after small children are tucked in bed? Lovely art and simple, whimsical story.

 

Only the Trees Know by Jane Whittingham, illustrated by Cinyee Chiu – Nondenominational wintertime story with anthropomorphic animals and beautiful snowy forest scenes.

 

Hey! A Colorful Mystery by Kate Read – Read’s picture books are clever, colorful, and both surprise and delight from start to finish. This one’s set underwater and features a MYSTERY.

 

George and His Nighttime Friends by Seng Soun Ratanavanh – Seriously gorgeous art is Ratanavanh’s trademark, but this one takes it up a notch with the story of a lonely boy whose mind won’t stop racing when the lights go out. An excellent bedtime read for ages 3+, with details and easter eggs on every page.

 

Graphic novels for early readers (ages 6-7):

 

Cranky Chicken by Katherine Battersby – A funny early reader graphic novel featuring a dynamic duo (think Norma & Belly from Donut Feed the Squirrels or the Narwhal and Jelly series), one of whom is… well, a cranky chicken!

 

Two-Headed Chicken by Tom Angleberger – A funny, frenetic graphic novel from the author of the Origami Yoda series. Could be a good choice for kiddos up to age 9, depending on their reading confidence and sense of humor (the premise is goofy, with several long-running gags!).

 

Slightly older elementary school kids (ages 8-12):

 

My Aunt is a Monster by Reimena Yee – From my review earlier this year: this graphic novel “is FUN, silly, pretty, and a breath of fresh air. For… anyone with a large imagination and a hankering to explore the unknown.”

 

The Nutcracker and the Mouse King: The Graphic Novel by E.T.A. Hoffman, adapted by Natalie Andrewson – The nostalgia of The Nutcracker paired with the updated whimsy of Nat Andrewson’s fantastic graphic novel art, for a middle grade crowd.

 

Books for the teen crowd (ages 13-18):

 

Supper Club by Jackie Morrow – A brightly colored graphic novel about the final year of high school and a club centered around cooking & food for those who loved Raina Telgemeier’s books when they were a bit younger.

 

Victory. Stand! Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Derrick Barnes, and Dawud Anyabwile – One of the best books I’ve read this year, and a shoo-in favorite for anyone (ages 13+) interested in history, social justice, sports, and underdog stories. You don’t have to be all of those – just one will do. I’m sending it to my high school student cousin and pushing it on my own students in the classroom.

For adults:

 

Gâteau: The Surprising Simplicity of French Cakes by Aleksandra Crapanzano – I saw a very positive review of this cookbook in Shelf Awareness and thought it might be the perfect gift for my college roommate and best friend who is a baker and studied abroad in France.

 

The Wild Hunt by Emma Seckel – For anyone who likes a bit of romance, historical fiction, and a touch of fantasy. This one takes place somewhere in Scotland in the aftermath of WWII, and isn’t tidily characterized as literary fiction or horror or romance or anything else! Sending to my friend who adored All the Light We Cannot See.

 

Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor – Okorafor (author of Binti) writes inventive, layered science fiction. In Remote Control, Okorafor imagines a “weird, haunting, and visceral future” in a tidy novella package. I’m getting this one for my brother who likes sci-fi and fantasy!

 

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir – Giving this one to myself for the holidays! I’ve heard others rave about it online for years (it won a Goodreads Choice Award in 2019!), and one of my coworkers finally convinced me to give it a try. After all, lesbian necromancers?! Sounds fun, and like the perfect read for grown-ups who obsessed over Garth Nix’s Sabriel as young adults.

 

Not books, but gifts you can find in a bookstore (links to Barnes & Noble):

 

Gnome for the Holidays Advent Calendar – A punny, funny advent calendar with jokes for every day of the advent season. Each day’s “surprise” (not hidden by doors, so it’s more about taking them out of their places) is an ornament, so could be a fun way to decorate a small tree or add new festive cheer to a holiday collection by stringing them into a garland! For the friend or family member who likes wordplay or is always making dad jokes.

 

Nathalie Lété Woodland Dreams 2023 Wall Calendar – Fanciful watercolor art of mushrooms, birds, butterflies, and other woodland delights populate the pages of this full-color, maximalist calendar. Perfect for that friend or relative who is into loud florals and/or vibrant colors.

 

Music Genius Playing Cards – For the music-lovers in your life! Test musical knowledge or create playlists of some of the greats while you play cards. Each suit (spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs) features a different musical genre.

slip

The bright coral pink monster hovering over the main character on the cover of Marika McCoola and Aatmaja Pandya’s young adult graphic novel Slip caught my attention several months ago. Still, I didn’t sit down to read it until yesterday. I’m on the 2022 CYBILS Awards graphic novel panel this fall, and Slip’s nomination was a great nudge to finally check it out of the library and commit. I fell in love with the story, and I think you will too – it has emotional depth and the art is just as lovely and inventive as the cover promises.

 

Right before Jade is about to leave for a summer art intensive, her best friend, Phoebe, attempts suicide. How is Jade supposed to focus on herself right now?

But at the Art Farm, Jade has artistic opportunities she’s been waiting for her whole life. And as she gets to know her classmates, she begins to fall for whimsical, upbeat, comfortable-in-her-own-skin Mary. Jade pours herself into making ceramic monsters that vent her stress and insecurities, but when she puts her creatures in the kiln, something unreal happens: they come to life. And they’re taking a stand: if Jade won’t confront her problems, her problems are going to confront her, including the scariest of them all—if Jade grows, prospers, and even falls in love this summer, is she leaving Phoebe behind?

 

Slip is Jade’s story (Jade is a ceramicist and artist who is struggling to find meaning in her work and herself), but it’s also Phoebe’s story. Phoebe is Jade’s best friend, and she attempted suicide right before Jade went off to art camp. At art camp, Jade can’t escape thoughts of Phoebe, wondering WHY and wishing she could be with Phoebe, even as camp challenges her to be at her best artistically, and to stretch her wings in new and interesting ways. When Jade’s pottery starts taking on a life of its own (and I mean that literally & magically), she must finally confront some thoughts and feelings that have been running amok inside her.

 

Jade’s story in Slip covers one month – an important moment in time, and one of intense learning – but still only a month. The reader doesn’t get too much back story, nor too much of a sense of what will happen after art camp ends, but that’s okay. In that short time, we see Jade not only create and think about art, but process grief and relationship loss/change, redefine her identity, discover new love, and play with ideas and sources of inspiration. It’s a lot to pack into one story, but McCoola and Pandya work some magical alchemy to make it happen – the result is an ode to art as therapy and art as a reflection of reality. My favorite scenes were the ones of Jade working alongside fellow creatives, those talented and motivated campers and mentors: folks with big goals. Their questions and actions spurred her on to greater heights and insights.

 

Throughout most of the book, Jade’s friends and mentors are asking her: what is the concept behind your work? What is the thing that holds you (or your art!) together? While Jade wrestles with these questions, the book does an excellent job of showing what a mess our internal selves can be when we experience trauma or are trying to come to grips with hard changes. I can’t get over how accurate some of the illustrations felt: a jumble of words competing inside Jade’s head but never making it outside her mouth, memories revisited over and over, a friend’s words haunting you in very specific ways. Slip is full of gentle ways of thinking about, talking about, and feeling hard things – I don’t know when I have ever felt so cared for by a story at the end – and I love that.

 

It’s not perfect (for instance, I’d like more of an explanation of the pottery that comes to life, and what that means about Jade’s own mental state), but overall Slip is a lovely mediation on art-making, processing trauma, coming of age and creating an identity all on your own for the first time.

 

Let’s talk about the art! The most noticeable thing is that Slip is illustrated in a limited color palette – most pages are in a dark blue gray with gradients, and there are occasional splashes of that vibrant coral pink from the front cover. Pink seems to herald strong emotions, change, and magic, and the pops of pink startle the reader into a new frame of mind. The linework is well-defined, without being too delicate or precious – it works for the medium and the story. In a book with a limited color palette, the details matter a lot, and Pandya has those locked down. I got an excellent feel for the process of pottery throwing and firing – even in a limited time frame – through Pandya’s artistic renditions.

 

In all, Slip is a lovely thing: a graphic novel that tackles art and identity in complex and gentle ways.

 

Recommended for: fans of Kat Leyh’s Snapdragon and Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me, and anyone interested in sensitive, quiet young adult fiction and expanding their graphic novel collections.