By Ella

The Ever Storms is the third book in the ongoing Wilderlore series; the previous books in the series are The Accidental Apprentice (book 1) and The Weeping Tide (book 2).

Look out—there are spoilers for earlier books in the series in the review!

After facing off with Audrian Keyes and saving the Wilderlands and the Elsewheres—twice—Barclay Thorne is ready for a break. But instead, he and his fellow apprentices, Viola and Tadg, are bound for the Symposium, a series of courses at one of the Lorekeepers’ most prestigious schools in the heart of the Desert.

As an Elsie and outsider to the Lorekeeper world, Barclay is pretty sure he’s going to be scrambling to keep up. And that’s even without the Tourney, an infamous prank war between the Symposium’s students which his friends expect him to be part of, too.

But when a series of mysterious sandstorms known as the Ever Storms appear across the desert, Barclay and his friends might be the only ones who can find their source and stop them before they give rise to something even more disastrous.

I truly love the Wilderlore series, and The Ever Storms was just as good as its predecessors. Witty and magical, this is a perfect middle-grade read for anyone who loves sprawling fantasy series that sparkle with uniqueness and yet take advantage of the familiar. I love Foody’s worldbuilding—every Wilderland is full of interesting details and vivid descriptions, and the Beasts and their powers are both varied and so intriguing. Barclay and his friends, particularly as the series progresses, are such good characters—all distinct and funny, their interactions, relationships, and interactions are consistently engrossing and likable, and I’m so glad to get to know some of them better in this book. I already can’t wait for book 4! I highly recommend The Ever Storms to readers ages nine and up, particularly those who love fantasy series like Septimus Heap and Poppy Pendle. 

By Ella

For a century, Mina’s people have cast a beautiful girl into the ocean every year to become the Sea God’s Bride, and appease his wrath. It is believed only this can keep the storms that have plagued her homeland at bay—and that, one day, the Sea God’s true bride will put an end to the chaos altogether.

But when Shim Cheong is chosen as the sacrifice, Mina refuses to let the girl her beloved brother loves become just another girl vanishing beneath the waves. When the time comes for her to be thrown into the sea, Mina leaps into the sea in her stead—and is thrust into a world full of secrets and gods, where old tales provide only the barest guidance, and her future—or lack thereof—might depend on a single red thread.

Here, Mina must uncover a plot against the Sea God, unravel the rivalries and factions of those who live beneath the sea, and choose between two worlds if she wants to save the world she came from, and all those she left behind.

I fully admit that the stunning cover is the reason I first picked up The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea—but the imaginative worldbuilding, unexpected twists, and strong characters are why I kept reading. The atmospheric setting and strong mythological threads added such depth to all the details and moments; I often felt as though I could see the whole world around Mina. Particularly as the story drew on, there were several twists I wholly wasn’t expecting, and the multilayered relationships, alliances, old feuds, and disagreements of the gods and other beings who inhabit this world gave the whole story a complexity and secretiveness I highly enjoyed. The absorbing, beautiful prose was also utterly amazing! I highly recommend The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea to readers ages twelve and up.

​By Ella

The Secrets of the Stormforest is the third book in L D Lapinski's middle-grade fantasy Strangeworlds Travel Agency series. It is preceded by Strangeworlds Travel Agency and The Edge of the Ocean, both of which we also loved--we chose the series overall as one of our favorites of 2022! 

​
[Look out--there are spoilers for books 1 & 2 below!]

Ever since Flick Hudson discovered the Strangeworlds Travel Agency and met Jonathan Mercator, who oversees the travel through the multiverse via portals trapped in suitcases, her life has become extraordinary. But now, as Flick begins to understand the truth about the travel agency and the dangers facing the many worlds, she discovers that not just Strangeworlds, but the entire multiverse, might be in danger. 

Now, with Jonathan and Avery by her side, Flick must race to find a suitcase with the power to destroy the multiverse--before it is used to tear apart every magical place she's ever found. 

I adored Flick and Jonathan's previous adventures, each full of quirky twists, awesome characters, and a sense of inarguable magic. The Secrets of the Stormforest's only flaw is that it's the final book in the trilogy! With everything that made books one and two so wonderful, plus unfolding secrets, impending disaster, and a series of stunning plot twists I never would have expected, there was so much to love about this story. As in the earlier books, Lapinski's characters are extraordinary; I felt so much for Flick, Jonathan, Avery, and the entire cast over the course of this book, who are made utterly relatable by their vulnerability, flaws, bravery, and connections to one another. Everything came together with beautiful, sometimes heartbreaking perfection, and threads both anticipated and unexpected from the previous books wove into a story I didn't want to end. I highly recommend the Strangeworlds Travel Agency series to anyone who loves heartwarming, exciting adventures, strong characters, and immersive worldbuilding, ages nine and up. 

By Ella
​
Thea Fowler was supposed to be as ruthless as her infamous mother, Clementine, has become. In the weeks, months, after the disaster that des-troyed her home, she was supposed to learn that the only way to have power in a world ruled by men is to take it for yourself. She was supposed to be audacious and commanding and stoic. She was supposed to be as terrifying and steely as Clementine herself, who has hardened in her resolve into the most dangerous pirate on the seas.

She was supposed to be just like Clementine, just like her mother, who has turned all her old pain and fury into becoming a person who men will have no choice but to listen to.

But all Thea has learned is that she will never live up to her mother’s ex-pectations—that, to her, she will always be weak. All she’s learned is that being Thea—quiet Thea, emotional Thea—will never be enough.

It should be easy: running away with a handsome boy who says he loves her for all the reasons Clementine has berated her all her life. It should be easy, making a new path for herself, away from the swaying decks and painful expectations of her mother’s ships.

Making a new path for herself. It’s what Clementine would have done.

But Clementine’s version of strength can only bring Thea so far when she has always failed at being her mother’s daughter. And when old and new betrayals crisscross through Thea’s life—most painfully of all, her own—she must find her own way of being strong.  

I first read The Sea Knows My Name immediately after its release, and despite all my plans to the contrary, it kept me up far later than I intended, absorbed utterly in Thea’s world. But it took several months of thoughtful contemplation, and then a reread, for me to figure out how to properly write a review on it. Full of powerful, lyrical prose and realism so unshakable that it electrifies every sentence, this is one of the most stunning books I have read in years—and it took some time to decide how to write a review that would do it justice.

I utterly fell in love with this book. Robson (also the author of Girls at the Edge of the World) creates a world and a set of characters so vividly real it almost feels wrong to call this book fantasy. After all, this story is nothing like classic fantasy novels or even a typical pirate tale, full of swashbuckling triumphs, twinkling fairies, and the unmovable hand of destiny. Instead, it is nuanced, as quiet and emotional as its protagonist, and as thoughtful and powerful as Robson’s debut. Unconventional in the best possible way, this is a tale about family and stories, about the devastating expectations of a patriarchal world and the different kinds of strength it takes to live in it. Instead of falling into traditional patterns of storytelling and expectations concerning how women are treated and portrayed, The Sea Knows My Name actively stands up against them.

Thea defies and stands up to the expectations of her society without openly defying them, reminding the reader undeniably that there is more than one way to be a woman, and that being quiet or having feelings does not mean you accept or embody the expectations of a patriarchal society. Conversely, Clementine is in so many ways the classic YA fantasy heroine from the early 2010s—ruthless, determined, and feminist because she wants to set herself apart (the infamous ‘not like other girls’ trope). Thea openly defies this, contradicting the idea that one must be masculine and unemotional to be feminist, but in her own way, Clementine does not fall into the stereotype, either. They are, neither of them, wrong or stereotypical; instead, they are both strong in different ways, and Robson’s subtle yet determined way of weaving this thread and the contrast between them is utterly extraordinary.

With every plot twist and image, every line of dialogue, Robson builds a world and a story so spectacular that feeling ambivalent about this book is utterly out of the question. With vibrancy, realism, and a sometimes painful determination to tell the truth, she weaves something fulfilling out of Thea’s pain and conflict and all the patriarchy and control in the world, something that leaves the reader both empowered and deeply touched by the singular power Robson wields with this deceptively simple, lyrical novel. Raising questions about silence, freedom, love, power, strength, expectation, feminism, judgement, survival, and so much more, perhaps the starkest beauty of all in The Sea Knows My Name is its ability to weave so much together into a narrative that does not content itself with being simply ‘convincing,’ but is utterly real. We need more books with characters like Thea, and more writers as thoughtful and powerful as Robson. Devastating, beautiful, and full of deft realism, I highly recommend The Sea Knows My Name to readers ages thirteen and up.

​By Ella

It's been a long time since twelve-year-old Gabriela felt right in the world. Between not having any friends at school, their beloved single mom's depression, and Gabriela's increasing discomfort in their own body, life has just become harder lately. 

But when they meet Abbie and Héctor at the beginning of the new school year, who introduce them to the LGBTQ+ community for the first time, Gabriela begins to find the language to put to how they've always felt--and to understand who they really are. 

The One Who Loves You the Most is a warm, sweet novel that explores identity, friendship and family in a relatable, engaging way. I loved the characters of Gabriela, Abbie and Héctor--they all felt authentic and relatable, and their friendship forms the core of the story. I recommend The One Who Loves You the Most to readers ages ten and up who like realistic fiction with LGBTQ+ characters. 

By Ella

The Sunbearer Trials occur once every decade to renew the sacrifice the sun made centuries ago and keep the selfish, power-hungry Obsidian gods at bay. Ten talented semidioses are selected to compete for twin honors: the winner, to carry the sun’s light across the land; and the loser, to sacrifice themself to keep the sun shining. The winner is always the child of one of the Gold dioses, who train all their lives for the Sunbearer Trials and live far removed from the humans they protect. When Jade semidioses like Teo are chosen, they’re practically considered a shoo-in for the sacrifice. 

Teo isn’t exactly looking forward to watching the Sunbearer Trials—he sees them as yet another way for the Golds to show off their superiority. Plus, it seems all too likely that the only Gold he likes—his best friend, Niya—is going to be chosen for the Trials, and he can’t quite reassure himself that she won’t become the sacrifice. 

It’s the last thing he’s expecting when he’s chosen for the Sunbearer Trials himself. 

Now, Teo must race against privileged Golds—including his ex-best friend, Aurelio, who everyone thinks will become the next Sunbearer—for glory, fame, and simply survival. And even with his fellow competitors Niya and Xiu, another Jade, on his side, the chances of one of them becoming the sacrifice seems higher with every passing trial. 

As the trials seem determined to not go according to plan and Teo realizes that every outcome will be painful, he has to fight harder than ever for the survival of him and his friends—no matter how noble losing might be. 

I've wanted to read Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas's debut, since it first came out, but somehow I found myself picking up The Sunbearer Trials first--and I'm so glad I did. I absolutely loved it. From the first page, I felt utterly absorbed in the setting; although complex, it never became too complicated or confusing, instead adding atmosphere and a beautifully queernormative society that only made this book an even more amazing read. Teo is such an incredibly relatable, funny, and deep character who I truly would follow wherever the story goes next; his struggles, decisions, relationships, and determination are both believable and inescapably realistic, and he's the kind of hero I feel like I don't see often enough. This book also features one of the most distinct secondary casts I can remember reading recently--there are about half a dozen competitors (and quite a number of gods) who aren't one of the principal characters, and yet their motivations, personalities, and relationships are so extraordinarily vibrant, distinct, and well-defined that they all very well could have been. Although there are many familiar fantastical threads that run through The Sunbearer Trials, Thomas turns every one of them into something unique and distinct, and I was constantly surprised by twists and turns of the story, turning it into something I hadn't expected but couldn't help but love. I highly recommend The Sunbearer Trials to readers ages twelve and up, particularly those who love LGBTQ fantasy and strong, distinct characters.

By Ella

​A century ago, the kingdom within the Mirrorwood was cursed. Its perfect prince was replaced by a demon one; a wall of thorns was raised to protect the outside world from his dark magic, though it can't prevent some of it from slipping through. The land lives in fear of that magic and the demon prince, and awaits the day when a beautiful princess will enter the Mirrorwood and break the curse at last. 

Fable is hardly a beautiful princess. She doesn't even have a face of her own--she's blighted, cursed by one of the Mirrorwood's twists of dark magic, and unless she wishes to fade into nothing, she has to constantly steal the faces of others. But it's a tenuous existence, even with her family's love and support--she's constantly afraid that a blighthunter will find her and kill her, or, even worse, punish her family for harboring someone blighted. 

When a determined blighthunter's apprentice, Vycorax, pursues Fable and her trusty cat into the Mirrrorwood, she knows she has to act--or risk never seeing her family again. Her only chance at a free, happy life is to slay the demon prince and break the curse herself, even if that means confronting the Mirrorwood's most dangerous beasts, bargaining with ancient powers, and trusting someone she's been taught her whole life to despise. 

But not all evil has horns. And in the Mirrorwood, nothing is as it seems...

Clever, absorbing, and uniquely imagined, I'm so glad I read The Mirrorwood! Mirrorwood! Although the premise easily could have fallen into a straightforward, cliche tale of heroism, Deva Fagan makes it so much deeper and more interesting, propelled by twists I never saw coming. I loved Fable and all the supporting characters, particularly Lyrian and Vycorax, who were layered and often did what I least expected them to, surprising me in the best possible way. The worldbuilding was light and evocative, and I particularly enjoyed reading about the Withering and the Subtle Powers, which helped give the Mirrorwood a unique flavor. I highly recommend The Mirrorwood to readers ages ten and up who enjoy middle-grade fantasy like The School Between Winter and Fairyland. 

By Ella

Rhaskos. A Thracian slave, worth far less than the animals he cares for. Separated from his mother, forced to serve a master who curses him and beats him. He draws horses in the dirt, and dreams of freedom.

Melisto. She caused her mother no end of trouble as a baby. She has never stopped. The future looks as bleak to her as a stretch of flawless fabric: what everyone expects, and so easily ignored. Serving Artemis as a Little Bear might be the first and last chance, however temporary, for her to be herself.

Against the backdrop of ancient Greece, told in poetry and prose and in fragments of the past, this is the tale of a boy and a girl whose futures are dark to them—and who might, through the impossible friendship they form, at last find the peace they have both been searching for.

Amber & Clay is unique and utterly absorbing, blending historical fiction, magic, and archaeology into something almost improbably powerful and beautiful. I’ve read a handful of books which use both prose and poetry, and honestly none of them have pulled it off very well; there always feels as though there is an abrupt shift when transitioning from one to another. But Schlitz’s prose is so lyrical and deliberate that the story flowed seamlessly from one style to another, and brought the book together more fully and made it feel more concrete rather than splintering it into sections. Not only that, but this ranks among one of the most excellent historical novels I have read (it’s set in Greece, particularly the Athens area, around the fifth century BCE)—not just for how it feels as though it stays utterly true to the time period, but because the feelings and conflicts and dreams of Rhaskos and Melisto are so bright and evocative in my mind that they might be living next door, not twenty-six centuries ago.

To be honest, of all the books I’ve reviewed, Amber & Clay is one of the hardest to describe. Its scope feels enormous, and yet deeply personal; its struggles, concrete and yet ephemeral. So much happens, but it isn’t the tale of the vast shifts of war and politics occurring in the background. It isn’t even a grandiose interpretation of what it must’ve been like, growing up without any chance at having rights. Instead of seeking to change the world, Rhaskos and Melisto both simply seek to live with it: to live in a society which they see not as unjust and discriminatory as we do now, but simply as how the world is. This crucial and too-unique nuance lends the story a vibrant realism which it might otherwise lack, and helps every detail of the story, its characters, and its setting shine with power and truth. Amber & Clay is, quite simply, extraordinary—I highly recommend it to readers ages eleven and up.

By Ella

Note: For this review, I used pronouns consis-tent with Ana's perceived gender identity at the beginning of the book. 

Twelve-year-old Ana Jin might be last year's US Juvenile girl's figure skating champion, but that doesn't mean she likes the dresses most skaters are forced to wear during competitions. Far from it--and when Ana discovers that the program she's expected to perform at nationals this year is princess-themed, she can't figure out why it feels so wrong to her. Sure, Ana has never liked wearing dresses, but no one else at the rink seems to have a problem with it. Why should she?

But everything changes when Ana meets Hayden, a transgender boy who's just starting to learn how to skate. Especially when he mistakes her for a boy--and Ana doesn't correct him. Somehow, this feels way better than everyone just assuming she's a girl. But what does that even mean? 

As the nationals qualifier draws nearer, Ana must figure out who she really is--and decide whether the world knowing her identity is worth sacrificing years of training in an uncompromisingly gendered sport. 

​I can't believe it took me two years to read Ana on the Edge. Thoughtful, lovely, and utterly affirming, Ana's journey is both beautiful and fast-paced, and even if I had wanted to put it down (I didn't!), I don't think I could have managed to. I absolutely loved this book. From the first page, Sass waves together figure skating, friendship, family, change, and understanding one's own identity into a story so relatable and realistic that I feel as though I could meet Ana on the street. The characters are all layered and complex, and their interactions and conflicts were spot-on. I particularly loved Ana, whose gradual understanding of her nonbinary identity felt incredibly true, and whose questions, concerns, and feelings over the course of this story made me fall in love with her. The window on the world of ultra-competitive figure skating was also very interesting, and the nuance of Ana's worries about how her mom will pay for her increasingly expensive coaching made it feel both immediate and very real. This is one of the very best realistic fiction novels I've read in a long time. Heartwarming, authentic, and beautifully true, I highly recommend Ana on the Edge to readers ages ten and up, particularly those who love realistic fiction or are considering their own gender identity. 

By Ella and Lina

​​It's hard to believe we've already reached the end of our 2022 wrap-up! To finish off our top ten on a high note, we have two utterly amazing middle-grade books: a realistic fiction story, and a graphic novel. 

Thanks for reading about our favorites--here's to another year full of books as amazing as these ones! 


Favorite Graphic Novel: When Stars Are Scattered by Victoria Jamieson and Omar Mohamed

I usually prefer prose books over graphic novels, but every so often I'll come across one whose beautiful illustrations and powerful story utterly absorb me. When Stars Are Scattered was one of those, a story of growing up that is both universal and powerfully unique. 

​​In fact, I realized partway through reading it that I was experiencing the same feeling of total immersion in a story, oblivious to anything around me, that I usually only get when reading standout books in prose!

The bright, evocative, emotional artwork is gorgeous, and the writing is crisp and concise, creating a vibrant, compelling, sometimes heartbreaking story about childhood in a refugee camp, based on coauthor Mohamed’s own life. The characters are deftly woven and immensely believable, and it’s a fast, satisfying, and deeply important read.

At once a powerful personal story and an ode to the resilience and courage of the millions of people living in refugee camps today, I highly recommend When the Stars Are Scattered to readers ages nine and up. 



Favorite Realistic Fiction: Summer of Brave ​by Amy Noelle Parks

I usually read more fantasy than realistic fiction, but some of my favorite books are unexpected finds from this genre. Summer of Brave was one of those. Unflinching, realistic, and beautiful, Summer of Brave manages to say so much in a relatively short book, and I loved every word of it.

Many books, especially contemporary novels, feel almost overwhelmed by their themes, becoming preachy and contrived instead of creating a meaningful story too. Summer of Brave never even considered stumbling into that territory--and yet is one of the deepest and most thematically complex books I can remember reading recently. Navigating friendships, feminism, academic pressure, divorce, girls in STEM, and so much more is tied together into a quiet but brave story which gains its power from both when Lilla speaks up and when she feels she must remain silent.

I loved Lilla, the protagonist. While many books about bravery present it from a single angle, which includes becoming constantly, effortlessly confident, but this book doesn't--Lilla remains quiet and shy while still becoming brave, a powerful and too-rare nuance which was part of why I loved her character so much. I also loved how Lilla feels the seemingly conflicting pressures to be 'girly' and smart and groundbreaking, and her struggle with what everyone seems to think is the 'right' way to be a girl. The depth of her character (and all the supporting characters) truly made this book come alive for me, and even when the characters' decisions weren't objectively 'right', I couldn't help but understand where they were coming from. I highly recommend Summer of Brave to readers ages ten and up. 

By Ella and Lina

​We're on to the second half of our favorite middle-grade fantasy novels, and the second-to-last section of our favorite books of 2022! 

​Check back tomorrow for our final two books: our favorite graphic novel and our favorite realistic fiction book. 


Healer and Witch by Nancy Werlin

Historical fantasy is probably one of my favorite subgenres under the fantasy/sci-fi umbrella--these books often by necessity of the genre blend atmospheric settings and character-driven stories with the usual magical elements found in fantasy books. Healer and Witch by Nancy Werlin is one of those stories that reminds me just why I love historical fantasy so much. Set in sixteenth-century France, this quiet but powerful novel blends feminism, self-discovery, and magic in a way that feels stunningly unique. 

Werlin's writing is, quite simply, exquisite. Simple and unadorned, it perfectly evokes the time and Sylvie's character as a girl who is far from naive, but nonetheless is largely ignorant of the world, and creates a story full of a broad range of emotions and details which truly make the story come alive, helping to anchor it in the time period. 

If the prose anchors Healer and Witch, though, Sylvie, the protagonist, is unarguably the force that drives it. Her journey toward understanding, self-discovery, and in a way independence in a land that would rather stifle, confine, and condemn her for her abilities and simply for being a woman weaves the heart of this book, giving the story an emotional depth and complexity that truly make it shine. There are such subtle but beautiful threads of feminism in her story, such determination and depth, that I couldn't help but fall in love with both Sylvie and her story. I highly recommend Healer and Witch to readers ages ten and up. 



The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy by Anne Ursu

Some of my favorite books this year were ones that I picked up with high expectations, whether they stemmed from previous books by the same author or praise I'd heard concerning them--books like The Sisters of Straygarden Place and Raybearer. The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy, though, was one book I picked up with essentially no expectations--and which utterly blew me away. 

There is so much to love about this book. Simultaneously an engrossing, nuanced story full of magic and mystery and a deep, thoughtful exploration of the stories our society tells us--and who, ultimately, they truly serve, the ending alone of The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy inspired such a range of emotions in me: rage at the villains, surprise at the twists (those twists!), and a blend of awe and love for the protagonist, Marya, whose courage and determination is still strong in my memory all these months later. 

Marya herself is one of the highlights of this book, a strong, flawed protagonist who finds herself coming to terms with a world that would rather she stay silent, and a society designed to keep her that way. She is forced unequivocally into a role that goes against who she is, but instead of resigning herself to it she continues to search for the system's cracks, and her development over the course of this book is a true joy to watch. 

What perhaps stuck out to me most, though, is the depth of this story, and the quiet, thoughtful vein of feminism that is present throughout. This reflective, almost philosophical undertone--perhaps best epitomized by the lingering question, 'who does the story serve?'--creates an undercurrent of questioning and cross-examining patriarchy and predominant narratives that both inspires and empowers, and never even considers veering into a preachy or contrived vein. Marya's evolving understanding of the world along these lines intertwines with the narrative, giving the story new resonance and deepening, not stealing the spotlight from, its strong and resounding voice and plot. I highly recommend The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy to readers ages ten and up. 

By Ella and Lina

It's hard to believe we're already halfway through our top books of 2022! Today we're highlighting two of our favorite middle-grade fantasy novels that we read in the past year; check back tomorrow for two more brilliant reads. 


The Sisters of Straygarden Place by Hayley Chewins

I adored Hayley Chewins's first novel, The Turnaway Girls; full of magic, atmosphere, and thoughtful, feminist undertones, it was practic-ally an automatic Book of the Year back in 2020. The Sisters of Stray-garden Place, her second book, utterly blew me away. 

From the first page, Chewins's immersive, expansive prose pulled me into an atmospheric world full of floating trees and silver grass and strange magic as twined with mys-tery as its heroine, Mayhap. There was nothing predictable or cliche about this story, in the best possible way; each word was unexpected and beautiful, each twist startling, each description stunningly crafted and unique. 

Mayhap--indeed, all the characters--shine so brightly, and the plot, which kept quite honestly surprising me, felt fully driven by their feelings and choices: choices that were not always perfect, but which reflected their dreams, fears, experiences, and desires so deeply that every character, every sentence, of this book feels utterly alive. 

The Sisters of Straygarden Place is relatively short when it comes to page count, but its depth could belong to a much longer book. It's now been eight months since I last read this book, and I still find myself recalling its quiet beauty. It's a book about magical grass and uncovering secrets, yes--but far more than that, it's about sisterhood and belonging, discovery and love. It's a story for anyone who has ever felt alone, or anyone who wants to feel like they belong. It truly has earned itself a permanent place in my heart, and so I wholeheartedly recommend it to readers ages ten and up. 



The Outlaws Scarlett and Browne by Jonathan Stroud

It's a rare book that has me quite literally laughing out loud for almost the entire book--all while delivering a fast-paced story full of action, danger, and adventure. But The Outlaws Scarlett and Browne managed it several times over, earning it a well-deserved spot in my top ten. 

​From the opening lines onward (no, seriously--the opening of this book is absolutely hilarious), I was taken off-guard in the best possible way by Scarlett's perfectly executed, sardonic, dry sense of humor, giving the narrative a voice both wholly unique and an utter pleasure to read. I don't often come across books where the protagonist springs fully to life in my mind just from hearing the way she speaks, but Scarlett pulled it off beautifully, and the ingenious personality which she imbued the narrative with helped make the entire book utterly delightful to read. 

But giving Scarlett all the credit for her improbably relatable character would be to ignore the other primary character, Albert. They are in many ways polar opposites, with Scarlett alert, driven, and sarcastic where Albert is dreamy, hopeful, and oblivious, and though the sharp contrast between them is a well-trodden trope, Stroud makes the conflicts between them feel unique, blending gratifying authenticity with unrestrained humor. 

With clever twists, action, adventure, and an interesting and distinct setting, my interest never lagged--and unlike too many books with utterly brilliant beginnings, all of these things were carried wonderfully through the final page. I highly recommend The Outlaws Scarlett and Browne to readers ages ten and up. ​​