By Ella

Everyone seems to have their own opinion on Marlene’s frizzy hair. For Marlene’s mother, it’s that curly hair should be straightened every week at the salon, yanked and prodded by a much-hated stylist. To her family, it’s only remotely manageable and presentable when it’s styled her mother’s way, but even then, it’ll never live up to her cousin’s Diana’s gorgeous, flowing, straight golden locks. And for Marlene’s classmates? Her hair is just something else to make fun of her for.

Marlene just wishes that she didn’t always have to be so careful to keep her hair tame like the whole world seems to want her to—no running, no dancing, and definitely not any attempts to style it her own way. But with the help of her best friend Camilla and her beloved tía Ruby, Marlene begins to realize that her hair is most beautiful when she wears it the way she wants to—and that maybe she can show everyone else just how lovely it can be, too.

​Frizzy is absolutely wonderful. The sweet, pithy writing of Claribel A. Ortega (also the author of Witchlings) blends with Rose Bousamra’s beautiful, evocative illustrations to create a moving, lovely graphic novel about the prejudices of those around us and the capacity of each of us to be beautiful. Quirky and relatable, I couldn’t help but read Frizzy in one sitting—I was pulled into Marlene’s story from the first page thanks to her struggles with self-identity and how others perceive her, universal questions that gave the book such depth. Perhaps best of all was the realism of Marlene’s interactions with other characters, particularly her family; ranging from awful to heartwarming, they truly brought the story alive with dimensionality and authenticity. I highly recommend Frizzy to readers ages eight and up, particularly more reluctant readers or those looking for an affirming, realistic story. 

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

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

Everyone in the village is sure that Luka Lupu--clever, kind, and full of wisdom--will be a sorcerer one day, and help protect Illyria against the ferisome Dread. Even his sister, Marya, believes that, although no one would listen to her if she didn't. Stubborn, opinionated, and, worst of all, a girl, the Lupus have no expectations for Marya. Her parents only hope that when the sorcerers who test promising boys for magical potential find it in their Luka, Marya will not be too great of an embarrassment. 

But even these low expectations are dashed when the sorcerer's test goes horribly wrong, and Marya is sent off to Dragomir Academy--a place intended to instill good manners into troubled girls. 

At first, Marya finds herself at Dragomir as she always has been: incompetent and full of mistakes, somehow unable to heed the rules. Troubled. But as time passes and Marya learns more about Dragomir and her fellow students, she begins to wonder whether facts she's been taught all her life are true after all--and what Dragomir Academy is really intended for. 

The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy is 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. Anne Ursu weaves a tale led by 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. 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, overt, or otherwise contrived vein. Much like the slightly older Girls at the Edge of the World, it evolves and intertwines with the narrative, giving the story new resonance without ever stealing away its strong and resounding voice and plot. I also love the story and plot itself; its unexpected twists, straightforward yet evocative language, distinctive characters, and beautifully paced unfolding mystery kept me swept up in the story until long after the final page. I highly recommend The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy to readers ages ten and up. 

By Lina

​When first year Malena Malavé Rosario is punished for not wearing a bra to school---an option a vicious sunburn rendered impossible---she's enraged, but feels helpless to protest. She's facing too much already: trying to build a new life with her mother, less than a month after Hurricane María ravaged her beloved island, and navigating a new school, all while worrying about her father, who's still in Puerto Rico, helping others rebuild. Besides, given the slights and stereotypes that she has already experienced, she's not sure anyone would listen to her.     

Senior Ruby McAlister is an outspoken feminist who has always wanted to make a difference---she's just never quite been sure how. And after years of being outshone by her older sister Olive (who has reached step five of her perfectly planned-out life: change the world) and being pressured by her overenthusiastic parents, she's not sure that she has what it takes. But when she stumbles upon a freshman getting targeted and body-shamed by the school administration thanks to the school's sexist dress code, she's determined to get involved. 

Malena is wary of Ruby's plan to protest the dress code at first---but she's also very, very tired of being seen as poor, helpless María Malena. And it's beginning to feel as though if she doesn't claim her voice now, it'll disappear forever. So she agrees. 

Malena and Ruby quickly strike up a friendship, and both are determined to stop the sexism and body-shaming the dress code enables. But pushing for change is complicated---especially in a system where some girls are treated differently than others. As their fledgling high school movement rapidly gains momentum, media coverage, and vicious backlash, they must examine their personal biases, privilege, and fears if their protests are to truly fight for justice. 

Few books present such a believable, empowering, multilayered tale of contemporary youth feminism, in all its messiness and complexity and passion and power, as Does My Body Offend You?, and it's a true joy to read a tightly-plotted, character-driven story that explores and celebrates it. It's refreshing to read a book about normal teens embracing feminism and fighting for change in their community, and even more so to read one which doesn't shy away from examining how race, economic status, and other factors influence the sexism they experience and fight---as well as how they themselves approach and understand it. Espousing support for intersectional feminism is one thing, but actually living it is often quite another, and Does My Body Offend You? does a truly excellent job of exploring how privilege infiltrates and influences work against misogyny, and promoting the importance of listening and allyship as an essential part of feminism. Malena and Ruby are both strong, compelling characters with distinct narrative voices and arcs, and I absolutely loved their friendship; the supporting cast is excellent as well (I want to be friends with so many of the characters!) The story is deftly woven and skillfully balanced between the two perspectives, making it a fast, highly engaging read. Ruby offhandedly complains about the irony of women policing other women's bodies as the beginning of the book---but it's far more complex than women simply enforcing sexism, a concept which the book explores beautifully without ever sounding preachy or contrived. Does My Body Offend You? delves into many key pieces of modern feminism in an insightful, accessible way, while never just feeling like a vehicle for explaining them---rather, it examines them through the lens how they intersect with the characters' lives. We need more books like it! An engrossing, nuanced, empowering story of activism, friendship, allyship, and finding your voice, I would highly recommend Does My Body Offend You? to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Ella

"On a warm April morning, a week after the terrible day on which Grand-mère Sylvie died, Sylvie walked away from her home...She did not look back and she did not cry. She did not deserve tears. 

​She had made a terrible mistake."

                                     - from Healer and Witch 

Sylvie's Grand-mère has always had a strange, unaccountable gift for healing, able to save lives when Sylvie's mother cannot. But Sylvie has never seen this ability--or even the stranger power she herself has inherited--as witchcraft, or even as dangerous. Not until, in the wake of Grand-mère Sylvie's death, she seeks to heal her mother's grief, and instead steals her memories of Grand-mère Sylvie--and of Sylvie herself. 

​Sylvie is determined to find someone to teach her how to properly use her gift so that she might return her mother's memories. With Martin, the farrier's son, by her side, Sylvie sets off into the world beyond her tiny, rural hometown. But sixteenth-century France is a dangerous place for a girl with odd powers, full of questions and inquisitors and those who would use her gift to their own ends. Sylvie must decide what life she is willing to lead--and who, in all the world, she can trust to show her her way. 

Healer and Witch is an exquisitely written, beautiful historical fantasy novel that weaves many disparate threads into a single, stunning storyline. Although I initially picked up this book for its lovely cover, Werlin's writing pulled me in instantly:  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. Sylvie's 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. The setting also feels particularly well-imagined, including the characters who Sylvie meets along her way. Overall, I highly recommend Healer and Witch ​to readers ages ten and up, particularly those who like historical fantasy or enjoyed the depth and writing style of The Troubled Girls of Dragomir Academy. 

By Ella

​Ever since second grade, twelve-year-old Lilla and her best friends, Vivi and Knox, all wish on dandelions at the end of the school year--and whoever blows the hardest gets to declare a summer challenge for the others. Vivi and Knox are the only ones who are really competing, of course; where Vivi is determined and Knox is funny, Lilla is just quiet. She'd rather say nothing and make everyone happy than risk throwing herself out there. 

But when Vivi declares it the Summer of Brave, that's exactly what she wants Lilla to do. And this summer, there's a lot not to be brave about. 

There's her parents' divorce, of course, where they're intent on what they think is best for her rather than asking her what she really wants. And she can't help but lie about the prestigious high school they're already intent on getting her admitted to, because how can she tell them she doesn't want to go when they're so proud of her qualifying for an application? And then there's a catcalling college student who's a supervisor at her summer volunteer job, whose harassment everyone dismisses as no big deal. 

Lilla's sure that talking about these things will just make her life more difficult. But maybe telling the truth is what she needs most. 

Unflinching, realistic, and beautiful, Summer of Brave manages to say so much in a relatively short book, and I loved every word of it. Navigating friendships, feminism, academic pressure, divorce, girls in STEM, and so much more is tied together into a quiet, brave story which gains its power from both when Lilla speaks up and when she feels she must remain silent. Many books about being brave seem to 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/groundbreaking, and her struggle with what everyone seems to think is the 'right' way to be a girl. This story never feels preachy or contrived; instead, it paints a realistic portrait of the many layers of Lilla's life with compelling honesty. In addition to Lilla, the supporting characters, especially Vivi, Knox and Lilla's parents, were very realistic, and even when I didn't agree with them, I understood where they were coming from. I highly recommend Summer of Brave ​to readers ages ten and up, particularly those who enjoy thoughtful realistic fiction. ​

By Lina

​When thirteen-year-old Ava is surfing with her best friend Phoenix, nothing else matters. She can forget it all---her mother making her volunteer at the hospital she works at to gain experience in a career she doesn't want, the bullies at the beach who think a teenage Persian American doesn't belong on their shore, her father's mailed birthday present coming unsurprisingly late again, the nagging, neverending feeling that she doesn't belong. It all fades away, replaced by sparkling waves and the one person who makes her feel at home, who she can count on to trade mixtapes and surfing tips with, and who encourages her love of singing. Laughing with her friends on the beach, singing, Rumi's poems--they remind her that she, too, has a place in this world. 

When Phoenix's lymphoma resurfaces, Ava must draw on every bit of resilience and hope within her to help him fight for survival. It feels like everything is falling apart--but as she and Phoenix have always reminded each other, surfboards ready, poised for the next wave: if you don't take the drop, you miss the ride. 

Eloquent, heart-wrenching, and tender, Wave is a standout for several reasons. Firstly, Ava is a believable, multilayered protagonist; despite differing ages, decades, and interests, her insecurities and victories ring piercingly true to me as she grapples with the tension between her own vision for her life and future and those which others push her toward. The characters are deftly drawn and distinct, and the relationships between them truly make Wave shine; the connection Ava develops with an elderly, poetry-loving patient is particularly touching, while her bond with Phoenix centers and grounds the story---just as it does Ava herself. I've never surfed (personally, I think it sounds terrifying!), but Farid's exquisite free verse turns the ocean into a friend, a sparkling world so beautiful that I found myself rereading passages again and again, and feeling the sea to be a home, just as it is to Ava. And the story's moving, lyrical exploration of grief and healing mark it as a modern Bridge to Terabithia, one perfect for book groups and discussions. In a word: gorgeous. I would highly recommend Wave to readers ages eleven and up.

By Ella

The Arcanum Training Institute is the school for young Marvellers--magic-users from around the world whose power is encompassed in one of the five Paragons, or orders of magic. For centuries, Conjurers have been excluded from the Marveller world, their magic criticized and alienated. But now, Arcanum has opened its doors to Conjurers--and eleven-year-old Ella Durand will be the first to attend. 

Ella has long dreamed of attending Arcanum, and the school itself is all she's ever imagined--full of moving towers, odd enchantments, and delicious food. Even though not everyone is thrilled about Ella's presence at Arcanum, she slowly begins to find her place. But the school--and the Marveller world--has its own secrets, and when a dangerous criminal escapes from a Conjurer prison, it's up to Ella to clear both her name, and that of all Conjurers. 

The Marvellers is a layered, lovely fantasy novel full of strong characters and evocative worldbuilding. I particularly loved Ella and her two friends, Brigit and Jason, a trio who I'm thrilled to spend more time with later in the series! The whole book both embodies and puts a new twist on the classic magic school trope; even with the Marveller world's prejudice towards Conjurers, Arcanum feels like a place anyone could be part of. At the same time, the school has its own mysteries and hard-kept secrets, and its many layers cement it as a spectacular setting--one that is open and welcoming, but remains deeply and believably flawed. I highly recommend The Marvellers to readers ages nine and up, particularly those who enjoy magic schools, clever plots, and engrossing worldbuilding. 

By Lina

Xiomara. 1. One who is ready for war. 2. The name her mother gives her when she bursts into the world fighting so hard she has the whole barrio praying for her to survive labor. She'll swear she thought it was a saint's name. Always take her daughter to the church she lives for, tell her constantly to listen, be good, build her a cloister of accusations and arguments and punishments. Her daughter will question the church, question the men who run it, question her mother's stinging authority. And she will never be enough. Instead, she will become a fifteen-year-old girl catcalled for her curves, known for her fists and ferocity, hiding her vulnerability, hiding her exhaustion, because no one, no one else is ever going to protect her from a world that thinks it owns her. 

X. What Xiomara's secret more-than-friend from bio class calls her, warming her every time he says it, a sweet secret warmth laced with the fear of what will happen when Mami finds out and this relationship, dream, hidden grasp for freedom shatters into a million painful shards.

The Poet X. A dream. An impossibility. An escape. A girl scribbling frustrations and fears and fragments of ideas of who she really is and who she wants to be on the pages of a battered notebook when her mother isn't looking. A girl on a stage, speaking the words she hides at school, chokes down at home. A girl taking up space and speaking her truth--and loved for it. 

I absolutely adored The Poet X, a spare, piercing, perfectly balanced exploration of family, friendship, growing up and learning to live your truth when the whole world seems intent on holding you down. I'm constantly amazed by the depth that can be attained in free verse through so few words; Acevedo, a decorated slam poet, does so with ease. The characters are multilayered and deftly complex, and the family dynamics are especially well-executed, a tangle of anger and bitterness and silence made both heartwrenching and authentic by the threads of painful, complicated love embedded within it. Xiomara's voice is authentic and vibrant, and it's a true joy to watch her learn to love herself and take up the space she so wholeheartedly deserves as the story progresses. I would highly recommend The Poet X to readers ages thirteen and up, especially for discussion or book clubs. 

​By Ella

Zoe Washington is sure her twelfth birthday will be her favorite so far. After all, she's gotten a party at a local bakery, and since Zoe loves baking--she dreams of being a contestant on Kids Bake Challenge!--it's just about the best thing she could have hoped for. But then she gets a letter from her birth dad, Marcus, in the mail. 

Marcus has been in prison for years. Zoe has never heard from him before, let alone met him. But he sounds nice. Caring. And he says he didn't even commit the crime he's in prison for. 

Zoe doesn't think such a thing is possible, and she doesn't have anyone she can really ask, not when her mom would be furious if she knew she was writing to Marcus. So she tries to focus instead on a bakery internship, avoiding her ex-best friend...and hiding her letters to Marcus from her mom. Because she can't stop writing to him, not when she might be able to figure out if Marcus is really innocent. 

And if he is--can she help clear his name? 

From the Desk of Zoe Washington is a thoughtful and realistic story. The plotline of incarceration feels nuanced and developed, not shying away from it but also never leaving solid middle-grade territory or feeling preachy. Zoe is much more than the protagonists in some middle-grade novels, created solely to illustrate a theme or issue; she has her own preferences, interests, and personality, and feels as though she has a whole life outside of the pages of this book, which I really appreciated. I recommend From the Desk of Zoe Washington to readers ages ten and up looking for an realistic, well-written, and compelling story. 

By Lina

Natasha Koskinen is going to survive. It doesn't matter that another Flood is coming, the ten mystical storms that precipitate its arrival like the tick of a clock. She's done it before--the orphaned daughter of a disgraced flyer who died too young made her way into the Royal Flyers, the elite aerial acrobat troupe considered the crowning pride of the city, then worked her way to becoming principle flyer. She has fought tooth and nail for a place in a city where she once had no one left. So when she learns that the flyers have lost their once-guaranteed place on the ships the crown is building to survive the Flood, she's aghast--but knows immediately that she'll do whatever it takes to get her and her flyers on one of those ships. Even if the only way is courting the enigmatic Prince Nikolai is himself. 

Ella Neves is going to die. (No, don't worry--she doesn't mind.) She doesn't know exactly how--a palace guard's sword? rotting in the royal dungeon?--but she knows that once she makes it into the Flyers' troupe, she'll gain close proximity to the crown prince, make a plan, and then Nikolai is going to pay, blood for blood, for the life of the girl that once meant the world to her. No matter the cost. Anyway, there'll be no one left to mourn her.

Ella's target is Natasha's only shot at survival. But as the Flood gets closer, so do the two flyers. And as the waters rise and their city begins to fracture with political conflicts and popular resistance, Ella realizes that maybe there's more to life than revenge. And Natasha begins to understand that being dead set on survival might be preventing her from ever really living at all. 

Evocative, atmospheric, and thoughtful, Girls at the Edge of the World has quickly become one of my all-time favorite fantasy novels. Bright, multifaceted characters, luminous worldbuilding, and a deft philosophical undercurrent make it a standout--at once a story of struggling, shining girls in a darkening world, a defiant queer romance, and an ode to living life to the fullest and the things that make it worth living at all. It's a fast read, the writing light but deft, and while there are familiar elements to the storyline, the plot and characters feel fresh and original, dodging clichés with unexpected twists and a distinctly witty, thoughtful narrative. It's also a piercing, contemplative look at heteropatriarchy, religion, colonialism, and how economic and class divides are displayed and exacerbated by climate change--all without being remotely preachy or contrived. I especially loved the flyers themselves, a blend of art and athletics, stardom and symbolism constantly training to bring the city together and earn their own survival; there's believable competitiveness and drive within the troupe, but also fierce loyalty and palpable caring between its members. I would highly recommend Girls at the Edge of the World to readers ages twelve and up; it's an excellent pick for book clubs as well. 

By Lina

“…all I want/is to stretch my wings/to ride the fickle currents/beyond the reach of any cage.” 
- Melanie Crowder, Audacity 

Clara Lemlich has never been free. Not free to read the books she hides from her father and studies late into the night, gathering scraps of knowledge when no one is watching. Not free to live as a full citizen of the Russian Empire, instead forced to live in poverty in the Pale of Settlement, which Jewish people are restricted to at the turn of the twentieth century. Not free to dream of a life where she is not forbidden from the beauty of written words, and where she could save lives as a doctor. 

When antisemitic violence forces her family to flee to America, the grueling journey brings them to New York City’s Lower East Side, a land of angular buildings and filthy tenements, and Clara is once again trapped by poverty and the duties of a good daughter, who must provide for her family as they struggle to survive. Where immigrant girls work quietly, meekly, in rows upon rows of factories, not protesting the exploitation they face because they know how easily they can be replaced, and because every penny counts. Where her dreams no longer seem quite so impossible. 

Clara bristles at the injustices the other factory workers seem to take in stride, and soon becomes involved in the developing labor movement in the area–but she quickly learns that protesting will put her dreams of an education in jeopardy. Should she ignore injustice in favor of a hard-won opportunity for education? Or should she give up her beloved ambitions to fight for a cause that has already grown close to her heart? 

I loved Audacity the first time I read it, and after a recent re-read, it remains one of my favorites. Its stunning, lyrical prose ranks it among one of the most beautifully written free-verse books I've read yet; while the writing is remarkably spare, the imagery and historical detail are evocative and absorbing.  Clara’s courage, kindness, and unflagging determination make her immensely sympathetic, and it’s a joy to watch her develop over the course of the story, as the young girl who splinted birds’ wings and hid from anti-Jewish mobs becomes an infamous labor leader whose concern for her fellow workers and immigrants is matched only by her fiery determination for action–now. I also appreciated how Audacity thoughtfully explores the risks and sacrifices activists must make, as Clara struggles to balance her family’s needs, the injustices she longs to combat, and real danger to herself and her fellow factory workers if they step out of line. 

I had never heard of Clara Lemlich, a real-life labor organizer, before reading this book, and I’ve since researched more about her–she’s a fascinating person, and I highly recommend learning more about her. (The historical notes and interviews with some of her family members at the end of the book are a great place to start!) While fictionalized, Audacity remains true to the essence of Clara’s work and early life. Eloquent and inspiring, I would highly recommend Audacity to readers ages eleven and up, especially for book groups or discussions.