By Ella

​After fleeing Vietnam during the war, Hà couldn’t believe that a country as strange and foreign as America could ever become her home. Still, slowly but surely, exactly that has happened, and now Hà can’t imagine leaving her new friends and school.

But exactly that happens when Hà’s mother relocates them to Texas, a place whose name Hà can’t even pronounce. The last thing she wants is to start over again, and again, and again—not when she’s only just gotten used to America itself. But as Hà grows up in her new home, alongside unexpected friends and experiences, she finally begins to find her place in the world.

When Clouds Touch Us is a quiet but beautiful verse novel that serves as a sequel/companion book to Inside Out & Back Again. Once more, I enjoyed Lai’s thoughtful, lyrical free verse, which carried the story along at a quick yet meditative pace that never felt slow but was willing to linger on small yet impactful moments, something particularly important for an atmospheric historical novel like this one. I also really loved Hà—her determination, perseverance, and bravery propelled the story forward, and particularly in a thoughtful novel which easily could’ve felt slow or stagnant, her character was crucial in keeping me swept up in the story, something she did flawlessly. Although you don’t need to have read Inside Out & Back Again to enjoy When Clouds Touch Us (it’s been years since I read the first book, and didn’t actually realize at first that they were related), I think recalling more vividly Hà’s experiences from Inside Out & Back Again would help you understand more deeply who she is entering this story, and make you more familiar with some of the minor characters. I recommend When Clouds Touch Us to readers ages nine and up, particularly those who enjoy novels in verse. 

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 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 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. 

By SK

When twelve-year-old Reena's family decides to move from the city to coastal Maine, Reena imagines lupines and lobsters and beautiful rocky coastlines. She is definitely not anticipating her and her younger brother Luke being enlisted by a prickly, reclusive neighbor to help her take care of her animals, particularly an ornery cow named Zora. But like it or not, that's exactly what happens.

Maine is lovely, just like Reena had imagined. But cows? Not so much. Zora is irascible, stinky, and stubborn--not to mention ENORMOUS--and is as, er, uninterested in getting to know Reena as Reena is in taking care of her. But there's more to "that cow" than meets the eye, and with the help of two kids from a local farm, Reena and Luke slowly begin to feel a sense of belonging--with Zora, with Mrs. Falala, and with their new home.

Written in an engaging combination of free verse and prose, Moo is a warm, satisfying story about siblings, friendship, and the magic that can happen when you step out of your comfort zone. The writing is spare, but each character is deftly created and irresistible--including the cows! Like Reena, Creech lives in Maine, a fact that's made clear from her evocative descriptions of Reena's town and local county fairs, and while the basic plot isn't one I've never seen before, her distinctive storytelling makes the story fresh and amusing. Hopeful and heartwarming, I would highly recommend Moo to readers ages eight and up.  

By Piranha T.

I can’t remember a time before music.
I can’t remember the first time I heard
                “Mary Had a Little Lamb”
                “Clair de Lune”
                “Rhapsody in Blue.”
Before this year
All my friends were like songs that I knew by heart.
                               -Excerpt from Emmy in the Key of Code

Twelve-year-old Emmy loves music. She’s heard songs for so long she can’t remember life without them; music is a tangible part of her life. With a pianist father and an opera-singing mother, she’s never wanted anything more than to be a musician, too. But no matter how hard she tries, she’s never been able to carry a note or play a tune. After years of musical disappointments, she knows she can’t pretend to be what she isn’t. Still, she’s disheartened when, in her new school in San Francisco, she’s placed not in a music class, but in Computer Science.

But from the first time Emmy enters the computer lab—and meets the teacher, Ms. Delaney—she discovers a new type of music: the music of a keyboard and lines of code. Coding helps Emmy find a place in her new school, a teacher who she cares about, and even a best friend.

One day we will learn what [the code] does.
Every word. Every line.
Every note played on the keyboard.
But right now…it’s just music
Written in the language called Java.
                                                                                      -Excerpt from Emmy in the Key of Code

Just as Emmy begins to find a place in her new school—one made from lines of code, not notes of music—the last thing she expects happens, and she’s left struggling to come to terms with an event which changes everything.

When I started reading Emmy in the Key of Code, it wasn’t by any recommendation; it was just because it had an interesting title and a cool cover. But this is a book I’ve been telling everyone I know to read. I love the way Emmy developed and learned her true talents as a coder, made friends, and overcame her struggles with self-confidence. She’s a character I fell in love with both for her courage and talents but also her realism; I found myself instantly connecting with her because she feels so true. All the situations she fell into, and the other characters she encountered, were so realistic that it felt like I was moving through the story right next to Emmy. This book is written in rhythmic free verse interspersed with lines of code, with musical terms used throughout, which added to the story and the feel of this book as a whole. Aimee Lucido effortlessly combines elements of coding, music, women in science, bullying, moving, friendship, and self-discovery in a truly outstanding way. I highly recommend Emmy in the Key of Code to readers ages ten and up, particularly those who love science, math, or music. 

Notes: We interviewed author Aimee Lucido, which you can read here. And we selected Emmy in the Key of Code as one of our favorites from 2020! 

By Piranha T.

Kek is a refugee from Sudan, fleeing his home after the deaths of much of his family. He is sent to his family in the United States, where he struggles to learn the language and understand the culture. His new school seems like a paradise of freedom to Kek, but he feels isolated until he meets Hannah, a girl who befriends him and helps him navigate the complexities of his new life. But even with Hannah’s friendship, he won’t forget the mystery of what happened to his mother—and the question of whether she’s alive at all.

Home of the Brave is the story of Kek’s struggle in a foreign new home, told in free verse. It is deeply relatable, sometimes funny, a book about change, prejudice, coming of age, and so much more. This is a book to be discussed in book groups, a simple story with a deepness which will remain in reader’s minds. I think Home of the Brave would appeal to fans of books like The Year of the Dog and Other Words for Home, centering around people from other cultures finding a way in a world which sees their identity as their home country, and not who they ​are. I would recommend Home of the Brave to readers ages ten and up. 

By Piranha T.

As World War II progresses and bombs are dropped on London every night, thirteen-year-old Kenneth Sparks’ home become a war zone. Before long, he’s glad to leave on the SS City of Benares, a luxury ship chartered to bring ninety English children to Canada to escape the war. To Ken, the ship is like paradise. He has plenty to eat, a comfy bed to sleep in, and a room of toys to play with.

But when the City of Benares is torpedoed by German U-Boats, Ken and forty-five other children, passengers and sailors escape on Lifeboat 12. They have limited rations and even less water. As the days drag by and no land or rescue boat appears, Ken begins to wonder if they will simply die at sea.

Lifeboat 12 was historical fiction, but it was about real people and real events (and don’t worry—it does have a happy ending!). All the characters actually lived, and narrator Ken Sparks really was on Lifeboat 12. Parliament’s decision to send children to the British colonies is a little-known piece of history which I found quite interesting. Of course, Lifeboat 12 is fictionalized, but was firmly based in the accounts of survivors and newspapers.

When I first picked up Lifeboat 12, I didn’t know if I’d like it. I’m not usually a fan of historical fiction. However, this book pulled me in, and I think it would be a great book for fans of little-known history, like World War II’s Fly Girls. In the back of the book, Susan Hood also provides historical context which was quite interesting. At the same time, the book was written as fiction—in free verse poetry—so unlike many similar books, it was quite engaging. I recommend Lifeboat 12 to lovers of historical fiction ages ten and up. 

By Super Kitty

Hoping,
I’m starting to think,
might be the bravest thing a person can do. 
                                  - Excerpt from Other Words for Home


Before the protests began, Jude lived with her family in Syria. She watched old American movies with her  best friend and walked on the beach with her older brother. She dreamed of being an actress like the ones in her favorite movies. That was before.

As tensions rise in Jude’s home city, she and her mother fly to America, where they move in with her aunt and uncle in Cincinnati. As Jude struggles to adjust to a new culture, language, school—a new life—she learns that America is different than it seems in the movies. Everything is big and loud and shiny, clamoring for attention. She learns that some people expect her to be a certain way before they even meet her, or seem to treat her differently when she starts wearing a headscarf. But in America she also finds friends, allies, hope for her family in Syria and a connection with those in America. She finds a place which, slowly but surely, begins to feel like home.

Every now and then I’ll randomly stumble across a book, decide to give it a try, and end up completely adoring it. Other Words for Home is definitely one of those. A combination of gorgeous free verse, multilayered plot, and a protagonist who I completely loved creates a poignant, inspiring story about finding a new home and growing up. The story never gets violent or dark, but still honestly faces the realities of being a young Middle Eastern refugee. I’ve connected with countless book characters in different ways over the years, but Jude touched me more deeply than any have in a long time. Her fears for her family and the future make her immensely relatable, but it’s her courage, dreams, and unquenchable spark which truly make her shine.

Although it’s a middle grade book, Other Words for Home can easily be enjoyed by readers of all ages—it’s also great for discussions or book groups. I would highly recommend it to readers ages 10+ looking for a story brimming with strength, courage, and hope for a better future. 

Note: Check out our interview with Jasmine Warga, author of Other Words for Home! And Other Words for Home was one of our favorites from 2020! 

By Piranha T.

In Inside Out & Back Again, Thanhha Lai narrates the story of ten-year-old Hà, a girl who has grown up in Saigon during the Vietnam War. Forced to flee her home with the end of the Vietnam War, Hà struggles to make a new life for herself in Alabama, while trying to learn the language, make friends, and understand the world around her.

Inside Out & Back Again was a moving, beautifully written book in free verse. Hà’s life was a moving and very real journey, from a war-torn homeland to peace in a foreign country, the story of a girl who longed for her old life despite all the horrors which were taking place where she had once lived. That reality in the story made it in some ways more powerful than many historical fiction novels which I’ve read—not a fictitious story, something imagined many years later by someone who had never experienced what they were writing about, but something based in real life, in the confusion and dreams of a relatable girl in a terrible situation.

This isn’t a book I’ll forget soon, and I doubt anyone will. I would highly recommend Inside Out & Back Again to readers ages ten and up, particularly those who love Farewell to Manzanar or Brown Girl Dreaming.

By Piranha T.

In beautiful poetry, Newbery honor winner Jacqueline Woodson narrates the story of her childhood as an African-American girl in the south. In the sixties and seventies, when the Jim Crowe laws were still in effect in many places in the south, the author was told not to simply accept that way of living. Instead, during her journey from Ohio to South Carolina to New York City, she’s taught to stand by her beliefs and learn who she is.
​
In Brown Girl Dreaming, Jacqueline Woodson combines lyrical poetry with an incredible autobiography. Each poem is like a tiny work of art, a glimpse into her life, scraps of stories which sweep together into a moving, mesmerizing narrative. It tells not just the story of a girl discovering who she is but also what it was like as a Jehovah’s Witness, as someone who never felt quite at home, as a young writer discovering the power of words. It doesn’t have to be action-packed, like many books are today, to be impossible to put down. Jacqueline Woodson’s poetry—and the story she tells in it—is truly incredible. Even though this book is an autobiography, it reads like a story, which is why I placed it under the fiction tab. I would highly recommend Brown Girl Dreaming to readers ages ten and up.