Song of a Blackbird will be released on January 21, 2025! 

Emma Bergsma, 1943 Amsterdam. After witnessing the deportation of Jewish neighbors to concentration camps, Emma joins the Dutch Resistance as a printer, helping to forge documents and banknotes. 

Annick, 2011 Amsterdam. Annick's beloved grandmother is dying, and she needs a bone marrow transplant from a family member to survive. But the doctor's tests reveal that her grandmother was actually adopted - which means to save her, Annick has to find her original family first. With only a few old prints to guide her - all signed by the unknown 'Emma B' - Annick sets out to trace her grandmother's past and find her family. 

Song of a Blackbird is a beautifully illustrated graphic novel that blends past and present dual timelines into a thoughtful story about remembering the past. Although primarily fictional, this story was based on true events and carefully researched, and it shows: the arc of the story and details all rang incredibly true, and made it all the more engaging of a read. The art to this book has almost a scrapbook feel, blending historical documents with characters and artwork, and it absolutely added so much to the text, transporting me into the past through the mixed media. I loved both storylines: Annick and Emma were both compelling characters, and their individual struggles - and points of connection - made me speed through this read. I highly recommend Song of a Blackbird to readers ages twelve and up who love historical fiction and art in all its forms! 

Thank you to Macmillan/First Second for providing an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review! All opinions are my own. 

ages 12+ / ARC / book group pick / fiction / family / graphic novel / historical fiction / standalone / young adult

By Nico

Growing up on a tiny island in the midst of a green-spore sea, Tress has no plans to leave her home. Everything she wishes for is here: the people she’s grown up with, her beloved collection of cups from across the spore seas, and her closest friend, Charlie, the duke’s son, who she’s always cared for a little more than a peasant girl should.

But when Charlie is kidnapped by the Sorceress of the Midnight Sea, Tress has no choice but to follow him across the perilous, beautiful spore seas. Braving deceptions, pirates, talking rats, dangerous spores, interplanetary visitors, dragons, and more, it will take all of Tress’s skills to find Charlie – skills she never would’ve even dreamed of possessing back home. But to succeed, she must not only discover Charlie’s location—she’ll have to discover herself, too.

This is the first book I’ve read by Brandon Sanderson, and Tress of the Emerald Sea made it certain beyond all doubt that it wouldn’t be the last. Tress’s simple yet incredibly relatable story pulled me in from the first page, into an enthralling world utterly unlike any I’ve read before. The worldbuilding was gorgeous and fascinating but never heavy-handed, making the setting feel utterly realistic, despite being so wildly different than Earth. Watching Tress grow and change over the course of this book felt equally natural, and never did the story arc feel contrived or unrealistic, instead possessing an organic quality that made me fall in love with Tress even more. There is so much that happens in this book, and yet its simplicity is part of its charm, giving it an almost old-fashioned feel that grounds even the most fantastical events. I adored all of the characters, whose lives I grew almost inordinately invested in, and the quirky, wry narrative voice of Hoid made this book decidedly a favorite. I also appreciated, as someone new to Brandon Sanderson’s books, that you didn’t need to have any prior understanding of his Cosmere universe to fall in love with it; Tress is an independent story. I highly recommend Tress of the Emerald Sea to readers ages twelve and up, whether you’re a longtime Brandon Sanderson fan or someone who’s never previously entered the world of Cosmere. 

Sir Callie and the Witch’s War is the third book in the ongoing Sir Callie series by Esme Symes-Smith. The previous books are Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston (book 1) and Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost (book 2).

As war comes to Helston and Dumoor becomes an uncertain haven, Callie, Willow, Elowen, and Edwyn must forge new paths if they ever want to see each other again—let alone the future they’ve all dreamed of. But doing that will mean facing their worst fears without the support, friendship, and camaraderie they’ve come to rely on from one another. And their failure will leave Helston and Dumoor alike bound for an even more terrible future than they could’ve imagined.

The Sir Callie series is truly one of the best middle-grade series I’ve ever come across, and this latest installment is no exception. Thoughtful, emotionally deep, and queer- and nonbinary-focused MG fantasy books are hard enough to come across on their own, but to find not just a standalone but an ongoing series that is all this and more is truly remarkable—and Sir Callie is exactly that. This third book in the ongoing series left me satisfied, validated, and wishing the fourth book was already out!

For me, the emotional heart of this book lies with Edwyn. He’s one of the most striking and real characters throughout the series (which is a hard distinction to make when every character is so incredible!), and seeing him come into his own during Sir Callie and the Witch’s War was truly wonderful. Anger, betrayal, love, hate, self-doubt—every one of his emotions jumps clearly off the page and makes me care about and sympathize with him even more.

Symes-Smith juggles the plotlines of Edwyn, Elowen, and Willow/Callie with flawless skill. Many middle grade books ignore the traumatic realities of young people, but this series never does, and instead of skirting around painful topics it faces them head-on and authentically portrays the challenge of loving and accepting yourself after struggling all your life to believe you deserve to be loved exactly for who you are. As someone whose own life has elements of these characters’ experiences, the validation and comfort in finding this reflected in a middle grade novel was incredibly healing, and I just want to reread it immediately now that I’m done.

This series truly keeps getting more and more incredible, and I can’t wait to read more about these characters and from this author! Highly recommended! 

Thank you to NetGalley for providing an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review! All opinions expressed here are my own.

Ash’s Cabin will be released on August 13, 2024.

Out in nature, surrounded by birdsong and the feeling of breeze on their bike, Ash feels at home. Everywhere else? They’re constantly bombarded by people who don’t understand them—their name, their pronouns, or just why they care so much about the planet not getting destroyed. When Ash remembers the cabin Grandpa Edwin talked about building, hidden away in the California woods for when he wanted to escape the monotony of modern life, it sounds like paradise.

So when Ash has a chance to run away and seek out Grandpa Edwin’s cabin themself, they seize it immediately. What could be better than surviving out on their own, unanchored from everything they can’t bear to live with? Ash is determined to find themself out in the wilderness, but survival might be more of a challenge than they expected.

The Prince and the Dressmaker, author-illustrator Jen Wang’s first graphic novel, is quite literally the book that made me start reading graphic novels, so I was truly thrilled when I got the chance to read an ARC of Wang’s upcoming book, Ash’s Cabin, through NetGalley. Although on the surface a very different storyline, Ash’s Cabin holds many of the same elements that made me love The Prince and the Dressmaker so much—a thoughtful storyline and beautiful art contained in a tale that leaves you feeling profoundly more at peace at its conclusion than when you started it.

It’s difficult to create a wilderness story that is at once modern and utterly believable, but Wang does so flawlessly, and Ash’s world absorbed me seemingly at once. Their struggles with the larger world and with their own sense of self feel fundamentally authentic and believable, and as I read, I effortlessly traveled with their thoughts and emotions, something I think is sometimes hard in the graphic novel format.

Ultimately, Ash’s Cabin is a beautiful, authentic, sometimes painful, and thoughtful story of growing up, finding yourself, and the natural world—one I truly can’t recommend enough to readers ages twelve and up.

Thank you to NetGalley and First Second Books for providing an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review! All opinions expressed here are my own.

By Nico

When Princess Brie meets Count Camembert, full of quirky dress sense and appreciation for Brie’s often unorthodox activism, it’s love at first sight.

There’s just one problem—Count Camembert is really Lady Camembert, disguised as a man so she can still inherit her father’s money after refusing to marry a man. She’s supposed to be keeping a low profile so no one can discover her secret…but after meeting Brie, she’s not so sure that’ll be possible.

Camembert knows her love can’t go anywhere. After all, Brie is a princess destined for a diplomatic marriage, and she has no idea Camembert isn’t a man. But could there still be room for a happily ever?

​With queer romance, bright illustrations, and lots of cheese puns, I read The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich in one sitting. Muniz’s artwork is expressive and quirky, and I liked the fast-paced plot and characters, particularly Zola, who was both humorous and deeper than I initially expected. Definitely check this one out if you love graphic novels and grilled cheese sandwiches! I recommend The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

Wren has always dreamed of joining the Coven, where every witch and magical source train together to protect the land. But despite her magical gifts, that’s never been an option; her brother died years ago from a witch’s spell gone wrong, and her ailing father can’t handle the truth about what she is. So she cares for him as he gets sicker and hides her magic instead. Surely, it’s a small price to pay for keeping him alive.

But Wren’s life is shattered when her father falls victim to a deadly magical plague. Desperate, she seeks out the only person who might be able to help her: Tamsin, the village witch.

​Tamsin used to be the Coven’s most powerful witch. Now, though, what remains of her life after breaking the Coven’s most sacred rule has been consumed by their punishing curse: she can no longer experience love or joy unless she steals it from those around her. She has no good reason to work with dreamy, inexperienced Wren, or meddle again in the kind of magic that left her cursed in the first place. But she agrees to help Wren hunt down the witch responsible for the plague anyway, and as they search for the culprit—a search that brings them dangerously close to Tamsin’s own past—she begins to feel something for Wren that she was certain was impossible: love.

I went into this story all but certain that it wouldn’t surprise me. The heartless witch, the idealistic newbie, a shared quest that becomes a burgeoning romance—although I was looking forward to digging into Sweet and Bitter Magic, since it came highly recommended, I didn’t truly expect it to be anything I hadn’t read before. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Yes, all these tropes are present in the story, but they take an almost unrecognizable form beneath Tooley’s deft pen, weaving two characters I couldn’t help but fall in love with even as they fell in love with each other. Wren’s conflict is infinitely relatable; the conflict she feels between what she wants and what she feels is right, and the guilt she feels when pursuing her own dreams, made her instantly leap off the page. Tamsin, too, felt completely real. Where many characters like her are just canonically impartial and heartless, the fact that she quite literally cannot feel love—and her longing to—made her far more complex than others like her, and that combined with her spectacular backstory gave her character incredible depth. Tooley’s writing was absorbing from the very first page, and I didn’t want to leave behind the fascinating world and spectacular cast when the book came to a close. I highly recommend Sweet and Bitter Magic to fans of queer romance, superb characters, and engrossing storylines ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

Oliver Bennet’s life does not seem too promising. With the impending threat of marriage only the latest reminder that the world still thinks he’s the girl he’s never been, his current solace—slipping out at night dressed in boy’s clothes, getting to be himself after pretending all day—looks on the verge of slipping out of reach. How can he hope to survive in a world, let alone in a marriage, that denies his very existence?

But Oliver meets Darcy, who not just treats him cordially, but seeks out his friendship. At first, Oliver is just glad that Darcy sees him as the boy he truly is. He never would’ve imagined that their friendship could become something more—or that someone could love the real Oliver.

Stuck between a false life, where he’s forced to wear petticoats and respond to a name that’s never been his, and a real one where he slips out at night to meet Darcy and discover the path he’s always dreamed of, Oliver knows that this precarious balancing act can’t last forever. With his family on the verge of learning the truth about him, Oliver must decide on his own terms how he wants to live his life, even if that means risking the only family he’s ever known.

I loved both The Wicked Bargain and Pride and Prejudice, so I knew going into Most Ardently book that it probably wouldn’t meet my extraordinarily high expectations. I was absolutely wrong. Gabe Cole Novoa delivers one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, which brought me several times to tears of joy (not something that often happens!) and, to be honest, gave me hope for the future.

To begin with, Oliver is absolutely fantastic. I immediately fell in love with his palpable longing, his strong friendships, and his worldview, all combined in a character who spoke to me so deeply that I struggled to put Most Ardently down. Due to the book’s short length, there were certainly characters I would’ve loved to see played with more (Mr. Collins and Wickam are the most obvious ones that jump out at me), but the flipside of this meant getting to spend the majority of the book with a smaller cast of characters, allowing me to get to know each of them incredibly well. I particularly loved how Gabe Cole Novoa created Darcy’s character, which felt incredibly true to the original while also gaining its own spark.

Novoa sticks to the original story but is never afraid to branch out to create a book that truly feels like it could’ve existed behind Pride and Prejudice all these years. The plotlines with Mr. Bennet and Wickam particularly leaps to mind, but honestly there wasn’t a single point in this book where my absorption in the story and suspension of belief were broken—something I very rarely see in a retelling, and yet was executed so flawlessly I didn’t even register it until the end.

The only place that might’ve felt a little too perfect was the ending, but honestly, I was so happy for all the characters that I couldn’t bring myself to mind! I highly recommend Most Ardently to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love historical fiction or feel-good trans romance. 

Lies My Teacher Told Me comes out on April 16th, 2024. 

Woodrow Wilson. Abraham Lincoln. Christopher Columbus. Those are the names that stand out in American history classes—the people heroized for their actions, or their personality, or, when you really dig into it, just because they were part of the dominant class at the time. But who were they, really? And why are they the people we remember?

Lies My Teacher Told Me tells the stories left out of (or radically changed in) the usual American history textbook—and invites readers to reconsider what they’re learning by thinking about who’s telling this story, and what’s being omitted. From the ‘discovery’ of the Americas to the Civil Rights Movement and beyond, it analyzes the lies, embellishments, and omissions that characterize the typical US history curriculum and uses them to consider American society as a whole, and the beliefs this one-dimensional portrayal of history perpetrates.

As a fan of the original Lies My Teacher Told Me, I knew immediately when I saw this book that I had to read it. This graphic novel adaptation of the original (a nonfiction classic with the same premise) captures the core ideas, messages, and thoughts while streamlining it into something immensely readable, making it accessible to a whole new audience without losing any of the purpose.

This is probably the most text-heavy graphic novel I’ve read, which meant that it managed to include way more information in under 300 pages than I would’ve thought possible, while still taking advantage of the illustrations and handwriting styles to carry the reader more fluidly through the narrative. That said, although it’s an easy read, it’s not a quick one; I often read graphic novels in one or two sittings, but I found this one was better to read in smaller chunks (a chapter at a time, for example), so I was able to really consider what I’d read before plunging into the next section.

If you’re a history nerd, a graphic novel connoisseur, or just exasperated by your US history class, this is a book for you! I highly recommend Lies My Teacher Told Me: The Graphic Adaptation to readers ages twelve and up.

​An e-ARC of this book was provided through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. 

By Nico

​Jessica Tran is not a hero.

Despite the superpowers of her hero parents and her older sister, she doesn’t have the gene—meaning that instead of training with the Heroes’ League of Heroes, she’s stuck hunting for internships to improve her college application.

When she finally stumbles on an internship with Monroe Industries, the premier robot-creating institution in her futuristic, high-tech world, Jess figures it’s as good as anything else as a replacement for saving the world. But the Monroe Industries internship turns out to be more interesting than Jess foresaw when she discovers her longtime crush, Abby, is one of her new coworkers—and that her parent’s longtime villain nemesis owns the company.

It becomes a way of rebellion—working for a villain, since she can’t become a hero like she always dreamed. But as Jess learns more about Monroe Industries—and the heroes she’s always idolized—she begins to question what being a hero or villain really means.

​Not Your Sidekick is a quirky, clever spoof of the classic superhero/villain narrative that instantly pulled me into its unexpected world. Although this is far from the first book to rewrite the usual hero/villain dynamic, C. B. Lee does so with particular flair, making Jess question the makeup of her society but only incorporating dystopian clichés with thoughtful self-awareness. The characters were awesome; Jess and Abby were definitely favorites, but I also loved Jess’s friend Bells, and how even minor characters who initially present as little more than superhero caricatures have their own depth and uniqueness. I also loved how Lee incorporated both queer and racial diversity into this story in a way that felt normal while also acknowledging and incorporating how a superhero-run society could exacerbate existing prejudice. I highly recommend Not Your Sidekick to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

Hitomi knows how to keep a secret. In fact, her life is full of them: her hatred of the tyrannical Arch Mage Blackflame, her magical abilities, and secrets hidden in her past. But right now, the one most likely to get her killed is her involvement in the Shadow League, a secret organization set on undermining Blackflame and freeing the city from his rule.

When Hitomi becomes part of the Shadow League’s latest mission—to rescue an outspoken family that’s attracted Blackflame’s ire—she expects it to be a typical operation. But when the plan goes awry, Hitomi must risk her life to protect the Shadow League.

If her other secrets come to life, she’ll be risking much more.

I loved Intisar Khanani’s novel Thorn, so I was extra excited to read Sunbolt. It didn’t disappoint. Despite its relatively short page count—or maybe in part because of it—the story brimmed with twists, curiosity, and details that made me utterly fall in love with these characters and this world. I think the worldbuilding was my favorite part of this book—although there were plenty of elements that were familiar, Khanani makes them into something utterly distinct, and I’m so glad there’s a sequel so I can plunge back into this world! There were so many unexpected twists and new settings in this book that it was consistently fast-paced and exciting without ever becoming confusing or convoluted. I highly recommend Sunbolt to lovers of quick, awesome fantasy (or anyone who loved Thorn!) ages twelve and up.

​Thank you to Intisar Khanani for providing an e-book copy of Sunbolt in exchange for an honest review! 

By Nico

The world of Panga reinvented itself after the robots it was built upon became sentient and disappeared into the woods. Relentless metal gave way to sleek, eco-friendly buildings. Cities became less sprawling. Vast swaths of wilderness were left untouched. And robots became myth.

Dex is a tea monk searching for their purpose.

Mosscap is the first robot to be seen by a human in centuries.

And when Mosscap asks Dex, “What do people need?”, the answer may be far more complex than either of them have bargained for.

​It’s rare to come across a book so thoughtful, so peaceful, and so reassuring that it feels like the literal definition of a comfort read. A Psalm for the Wild-Built, though, is one of those. This book is virtually impossible to describe and yet incredibly necessary; it feels like a warm hug, gentle and incredibly necessary, a quiet, determined insistence that the world can be better around the next corner. Chambers’s writing and world are quite simply beautiful. I’m so used to “utopian” YA novels, inevitably ending with the realization that the world isn’t actually perfect and the current regime must be overthrown, that Panga was a startling relief of a setting—one that works because instead of focusing on large-scale world and government, A Psalm for the Wild-Built zeroes in on the life of a single, incredibly ordinary person whose struggles are so incredibly universal that Dex felt utterly real to me. Their journey throughout this book is not one to save the world; it's truly one for personal fulfilment and understanding, rendered so thoughtfully and gracefully in Chambers’s peaceful and evocative prose that its universality becomes reassuring and exactly what I needed. I absolutely loved this book. I highly recommend A Psalm for the Wild-Built to readers ages twelve and up, or, in the apt words of the dedication, “anybody who could use a break.”

By Nico

Yamilet Flores might not be religious, but when her mom sends her to a local Catholic school, she’s pretty sure it will solve all her problems. She’ll be academically pushing herself and making her mom proud of her. She’ll be able to keep her brother out of the trouble he always got into at their old school. And, maybe most importantly, she can get away from the best friend who outed and rejected her last year, and start over somewhere where no one knows she’s gay. Yami will definitely make a convincing straight girl. Right?

But then she meets Bo on day one of her new school. Bo: who stands up to the questionable academics in their classes, is bedecked with enough rainbow pins for Yami to be sure she’s gay too, and is really, really cute.

Yami is determined not to get a crush on Bo. After all, she has to be a convincing straight girl, and straight girls definitely don’t fall in love with their cute, lesbian friends. But as she begins to realize that denial can only get her so far, Yami has to figure out whether the alternative is even a possibility.

Combining hilarious twists and characters with a beautifully authentic storyline, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Yami and The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School. I was quite literally laughing from the very first page as Yami’s take on Catholic school unfolded in a brilliant cross between You Should See Me In A Crown and Heretics Anonymous, but this story also goes far deeper than that comparison implies, with a powerful undertone of self-discovery and identity that was utterly beautiful. This is one of those novels which truly feels real, with a layered complexity and diverse set of relationships that brought Yami and her story to life. The relationships in this story bear a second mention; Yami’s relationships with her parents, her brother, Bo, and her other friends are each distinct and powerfully realistic, and their choices, conflicts, and interactions gave this book an extra, incredibly authentic dimensionality. ​The Lesbiana’s Guide often strays into more difficult or potentially painful topics as well, but every moment is carried out with depth and sensitivity, so that this book feels not like an issue book or something remotely preachy, but like an ode to the many layers of every person’s life and the ability each of us have to support one another. Full of strength, resilience, and deft writing, I highly recommend The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

​Bianca Torre is afraid of everything.

And not just normal phobias, either, like spiders and snakes (#2 and #25 on their ever-expanding list of fears). Also FEAR #39: MASCOTS. And #49: DYING BEFORE THE CONCLUSION OF ONE PIECE. Not to mention #11: TELLING MY PARENTS I’M A RAGING LESBIAN.

As an anxious birder questioning their gender identity, #6: INITATING CONVERSATION has mostly kept Bianca’s social life on hold. Besides hanging out with their anime-obsessed neighbor, Anderson, their outside interactions are limited to spying on neighbors with their birding telescope and weekly hikes with a local birding group, where they’ve developed an accidental crush on Elaine Yee, the newest member of the group (#13: BEAUTIFUL GIRLS).

All that changes when Bianca watches a neighbor get murdered through their telescope—a murder the police claim was a suicide. Bianca is certain they owe it to the stranger to learn what really happened, but there are a few problems. Like #5: DEAD BODIES. Or the threatening dead birds left in front of their house.

The man was investigating something, or someone—and he got murdered for getting too close to the truth. And now Bianca, along with Anderson and Elaine, has been pulled into the investigation, too.

Bianca Torre is left with a terrifying ultimatum: get to the bottom of things, fast—or become the murderers’ next victim.

As soon as I read the description of Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything, I knew it was exactly the kind of book I would like. I was wrong: I didn’t like it. I loved it. This book has everything I possibly hoped for and more: murderers in plague masks, queer anxiety rep, school theater productions, geeky friendships, clever humor, birdwatching, budding romance, and lesbian sheep. Hands-down, this will be one of my favorite reads of 2023.

Bianca was an amazing protagonist. Despite their long list of fears—or maybe in part because of them—their voice and sense of humor are impeccable, yanking me into their life from the very first page. I rarely encounter such incredibly complex protagonists, or ones I connect with so deeply, but Bianca effortlessly fulfils both of these. If you love character-driven, deeply relatable characters, this is definitely a book for you!

​But Bianca isn’t the only reason I fell in love with this story. Every detail of Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything is excellent, from the quirky and weird minor characters and Bianca’s murder investigation to the theatrical interests of their mom and older sister. Whether you love twisty plots, witty writing, or fabulous characters, I highly recommend Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Nico

There are stories about the lake, about a world that exists beneath it, about ghosts and odd happenings and mysteries that can’t be solved. No one believes them anymore, of course—the old sign detailing the lakelore is barely legible, and the old tales have become things to laugh at, not to believe. Only Bastián Silvano can find the world under the lake anymore, find the place where water lifts from the surface like butterfly’s wings and reveals a path to the depths below. And Lore Garcia is the only one they’ve ever managed to show it to, though they met so briefly they never even learned each other’s names.

It's been years since they met for the first time—time enough for Bastián to begin sending their worst moments beneath the lake’s surface in paper-mâché alebrijes, and for Lore to do something so terrible they have to leave their old town—even if that doesn’t keep away the memories intent on reminding Lore of all their worst mistakes. But when Lore moves into Bastián’s town and lakelore slips out from beneath the surface of the lake, they must each trust each other with the parts of themselves they’ve worked the hardest to hide.

Having written hundreds of reviews, I have a running shortlist of ones that were nearly impossible to describe—books like Raybearer and Daughter of Smoke and Bone, which I absolutely love but struggle to find words to summarize the plots of. Lakelore surpasses all of them. Encapsulating Anna-Marie McLemore’s gorgeous magical realism at its finest, Lakelore is the story of two nonbinary teens navigating the dangerous, complicated, multifaceted world of their own minds and histories, all while coming to terms with what it means to love yourself. At once ethereal and impossibly grounded in reality, there is so much of this story nearly impossible to put into words—and yet it’s so utterly amazing that I feel like I do it a disservice by not attempting to.

Lakelore is, in one word, stunning. McLemore (who is also the author of some of my other absolute favorite books, such as Blanca and Roja, Wild Beauty, and When the Moon Was Ours) weaves realism and magic together so smoothly with their beautiful writing that the two flow into one another so naturally they feel inseparable; the world they draw with relatively straightforward language is so evocative and gorgeous that I couldn’t help but be absorbed by it. Always thoughtful, reflective, and intentional, the many threads of Lakelore became something incredibly deep beneath McLemore’s deft pen. This book made me feel utterly heard to a degree few others ever have through the power and authenticity of its protagonists’ struggles, and the beauty of their evolving awarenesses of themselves.

​Far too many books become ‘single-issue’; Lore and Bastián, instead, lie at the intersection of many identities—neurodivergence, race, gender—and yet this story never becomes ‘about’ any one of these. Instead, it focuses on the two people behind them, whose nuanced and complex narratives are built far more around who they are, their experiences, and how the world has treated them because of their identities—and, particularly, how they intersect—than simply using those identities as checked-off diversity boxes, creating a pair of protagonists who are refreshingly, beautifully, and sometimes devastatingly real. I can’t think of another book starring two characters who are as complex and human as these two, or who I love quite this much. Deft, magical, and truly incredible, I highly recommend Lakelore to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love magical realism and queer, diverse fantasy. 

By Nico

Princess Alyrra has never been understood or even accepted by her royal family, who deem her too honest, too weak, and too unintelligent. When the king of Menaiya, a nearby country whose size and power dwarfs Alyrra's tiny homeland, requests that she marry his son Kestrin, she sees no reason to refuse. Leaving everything she knows be-hind doesn't sound so bad, after all--even if the rumors claim that Kestrin chose her for her disposability, a supposedly sought-after trait in the fraught, danger-ous Menaiyan court. Alyrra might prefer a life away from royal conflicts and intrigue, but at least she can escape her family. 

But while traveling to Menaiya, a powerful and mysterious woman steals Alyrra's very identity and gives it to her maid, leaving Alyrra a lowly, cast-off servant in a foreign land and her treacherous maid to marry Kestrin, and, surely, to betray him to the same sorceress. 

​Alyrra knows she should warn Kestrin of her upcoming betrayal--and yet doing so would require reclaiming her life as princess. And in Menaiya, working as a goose girl beside the lower-class citizens of her new home, Alyrra finally realizes the quiet life she's always dreamed of, away from the tense politics of court. 

But Menaiya is also rife with injustice. And as Alyrra begins to see more clearly the painful effects of the kingdom's shortcomings, and the suffering it's inflicted upon the people who have become her friends, she must decide whether she will stay the goose girl forever--or if she will give up her quiet life for a chance to stand up for the people who need it. 

I loved Thorn, a thoughtful and unique take on a classic fairytale which lends it powerful realism and striking beauty. To begin with, Alyrra's subversion of the Goose Girl is phenomenal; having the heroine welcome her lowly position rather than resenting it, as well as gladly leaving her family, was unusual and added unique depth to her character, helping me connect with her due to the simple fact that many fairy-tale heroines are difficult to truly relate to, and Alyrra's contradiction of these tropes lent her a refreshing dimensionality. Her gradual discovery of the injustices surrounding her, too, felt anything but contrived: Thorn became so much deeper as she struggled to reconcile the life she was leading with the possibility of making others' existences better, and the authenticity of her choices brought a quiet power to this story which "The Goose Girl" certainly lacked. This book gives voice to its characters' struggles without becoming overwhelmed by them; even the most difficult of topics were handled with sensitivity and thoughtfulness. I highly recommend Thorn ​to readers ages twelve and up who enjoy fairy tale retellings and strong female characters.