By Lina
​
Ari Mendoza - Aristotle, if you want to annoy him - is fifteen. A fifteen-year-old boy, in summer, with a father who holds the Vietnam war silent inside him and an irritatingly perceptive mother who adores him. One with a brother in prison, leaving him with questions his parents will never answer, and two grown-up sisters, making him a sort of fake only child, which is pretty depressing, when you think about it. 

Ari’s not particularly interested in making friends - most people know to leave him alone, and that’s just fine with him. But then he meets Dante Quintana, an irrepressible, erudite boy who appears at the local pool and offers to teach him to swim. Ari doesn’t like accepting help. But for whatever reason, he says yes to Dante. 

Ari is moody rain and fierce loyalty, a self-professed expert loner. Dante is sunlight and poetry and smart-aleck comebacks. They’re utterly different. They’re remarkably alike. 

Together, they might discover the secrets of the universe. 

By the time I read Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, not only did I have high expectations, I felt I had a pretty good sense of the overall trajectory of the story. Historical queer romance? Coming-of-age tale? When you read a lot, you often go into books with a decent sense of what they’ll be like based on the loose sketch you’ve gotten from the flap and - when they’re as acclaimed and successful as this one - the reviews and recommendations. While each is unique, they often fit semiconscious, overall molds. 

Not this one. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe was entirely different than I was expecting, carrying on in its own way, politely brushing my expectations aside each time I thought I knew what was going to happen next. Instead of the standard three-act love story I was expecting, I was launched into a stunning meditation on growing up, on figuring out who you are, and on the complexity of families and secrets and being a teenager, all while remaining unwaveringly fresh and authentic. Some books - just a few - capture that ineffable essence of growing up, of hovering on that border between childhood and adulthood; The Perks of Being a Wallflower comes to mind. This is one of them. 

It’s rare for me to fall in love with an entire cast of characters, but it happened here. All the characters, including both sets of parents, are complex and flawed and effortlessly human, and all felt real; their dialogue is particularly strong and believable. Ari is a captivating protagonist, messy, witty, wickedly smart and surprisingly introspective, while Dante’s brilliance, quirkiness, and indescribable individuality shine. I was especially struck by Sáenz’s remarkable ability to tell readers a great deal without outright saying anything of the sort, particularly concerning Ari himself: one is so deeply enmeshed in his mind, his life, and his feelings that one often viscerally understands his emotions and thoughts without his actually admitting to them. 

A tale of family, friendship, secrets, love, growing up, and, at its very heart, being human, I would highly recommend this raw, thoughtful, beautiful story to readers ages 14 and up. It’s also excellent on audio.

By Nico

​On the ice, Mars is at home. Everywhere else, they have to deal with the realities of seventh grade, the recent death of their father, and the knowledge that they’ll never be able to tell him that they’re nonbinary. But when they’re skating, all of that disappears. Here, they’re free to be themself.

Of course, ice skating also requires competing in the girl’s division, something Mars barely considers until they’re challenged by another skater—the new skating partner of their best friend—to see if they can beat him in a real competition. That means Mars competing in the boy’s division, something that would be far less problematic if it didn’t mean keeping so many secrets.

As Mars’s plans to beat the other skater develop, they must reckon not just with their grief and strained friendships but also what it means to be nonbinary in a relentlessly binary world.

In the constant debate about trans kids in sports, particularly youth sports, nonbinary kids are too often forgotten entirely—so when I came across Skating on Mars, I immediately knew I had to check it out. It didn’t disappoint! Thoughtful, authentic, and fast-paced, this book delves into the complicated realities of being a nonbinary kid in sports today. I really liked Mars—their conflict and struggles felt utterly relatable, and I particularly liked the realism with which they interacted with the supporting cast. If you loved Ana on the Edge, or want a realistic fiction novel with the same defiant fire of Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston, definitely check this one out! I highly recommend Skating on Mars to readers ages ten and up. 

By Nico

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

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

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

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

By Nico

Potosí, 1600s. Spain has established a viceroyalty in one of its newest colonies, Peru. The streets of the city are full of beauty and chaos and danger, hardly the place for two young ladies from the upper class.

But at night, Kiki de Sonza and Ana Lezama de Urinza, daughter and ward of one of Peru’s wealthiest men, trade their voluminous skirts and amenable smiles for daggers wielded with the upmost precision, and venture into the streets—to explore, to protect those who can’t protect themselves, and to experience the brilliant, forbidden love that’s long burgeoned between them.

These two parts of their lives have long been separate: streets by night, skirts by day. But when Kiki’s brother is murdered the night of her engagement announcement, their only hope of finding answers lies on the winding streets of Potosí—where they will either find the truth, or become the murderer’s next victims.

I read and loved the Girl at Midnight series by Melissa Grey years ago, so when I discovered she had a new series, featuring historical adventure, sword-wielding lesbians, and a murder mystery, I immediately knew I had to check it out. Valiant Ladies certainly didn’t disappoint! I loved Kiki and Ana—although I don’t always love books with a prominent romance plotline, both characters were so brilliant that I couldn’t resist rooting for them. With witty dialogue, righteous determination, and an absolutely fabulous dynamic, I didn’t want to put this book down. The historical aspect of Valiant Ladies was also excellent, and I love how the characters never felt like they were solely reflecting modern sensibilities about queer characters or feminism; instead, they all felt wholly alive in the historical setting. I didn’t go into this story expecting its twisting, complex plot, but it more than delivered. Melissa Grey weaves a multilayered, clever mystery full of surprises and quirks that propelled the story forward at a swift and ever-engaging pace. Full of vibrance, fire, and action, I highly recommend Valiant Ladies to lovers of queer romance and historical fiction ages thirteen and up. 

By Nico

Morgan knows she can’t be herself on the tiny island where she’s grown up. Here, she’s straightforward, unremark-able, good at blending in, a persona much easier to stomach than the truth that no one—not her struggling mom, not her cluster of friends—knows: Morgan likes girls.

She’s determined to get through high school and escape as soon as possible to somewhere she can be herself. But all that changes when Keltie slips out of the sea and saves Morgan’s life. Keltie—who, with her odd, bright-colored clothes, disregard for social convention, and unconventional secret—is the worst thing possible for Morgan’s attempt at normalcy. Particularly when she begins to fall in love…

​The Girl from the Sea was the summery, small-town, queer graphic novel I didn’t know I needed! With beautiful, atmospheric artwork and a contemporary twist on the classic selkie story, I couldn’t help but be pulled into this book. I really loved the characters—Morgan is one of the absolutely most relatable characters I’ve read recently, and Keltie her perfect foil, with so much spark and personality that I couldn’t help but fall in love with her alongside Morgan. The entire story was sweet and vivid, and extraordinarily realistic, despite (or because of) the magical elements; Morgan’s family in particular felt completely authentic, with the right mix of conflict and love and individual character to bring it truly to life. Whimsical and full of magic, I highly recommend The Girl from the Sea to readers ages eleven and up. 

By Nico

​Bianca Torre is afraid of everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Nico

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

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

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

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

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

By Nico

​The remote city of Ilvernath is known for little more than being ordinary. With quaint shops, dense forests, and talented spellmakers, it’s little-known and little-noticed, unassuming, perhaps, to a fault.

But every generation, with the rise of the Blood Moon, each of Ilvernath’s seven most powerful families sends one of its children into a cursed duel to the death. The victor’s family controls the city’s high magic reserves until the next Tournament. The other children put forward as potential champions by their families are just more sacrifices to the brutal curse they put in place centuries ago.

For centuries, the tournament, along with Ilvernath’s high magic itself—a dangerous and incredibly powerful natural resource believed to be depleted from the world—has been a carefully kept secret. But ever since the publication of a tell-all book, A Tradition of Tragedy, which bears all Ilvernath’s secrets to the world, newspapers throughout the country have been plastered with headlines about this unassuming city that sends its children to their deaths. For the first time, as each family declares their champion, the world is watching with revolution and fascination as this centuries-old story unfolds, and the seven champions of Ilvernath battle for their families, survival, and glory.

Alistair Lowe has been raised on monster stories by his family, the undisputed villains of Ilvernath, but he wants to win not for them, but for his beloved brother. Isobel Macaslan was thrust accidentally into the spotlight as the first champion revealed, and a desperate attempt to survive might cost her her life. Briony Thorburn has wanted all her life to be her family’s champion, but the meddling of external powers might not give her that chance. And even though Gavin Greive’s family has never won the tournament—or perhaps because of it—he’s willing to sacrifice anything to survive, even the very force that keeps him alive.

But maybe this time, Ilvernath’s ancient story will end a little differently.

With the atmospheric writing of Where Dreams Descend and the emotional ambiguity and intensity of Six of Crows and An Ember in the Ashes, I knew as soon as I started reading that All of Us Villains was going to become an instant favorite. This is one of those brilliant books with an amazing premise that not only lived up to everything I was hoping it would be, but far surpassed it. Complex, intense, and sometimes brutally honest, the intertwined stories of Alistair, Isobel, Briony, and Gavin wove one of the most complicated and multifaceted stories I’ve had the pleasure to read, going far beyond subverting traditional notions of heroism and what makes a villain into a tale so morally ambiguous that the term moral ambiguity barely begins to cover it. Alistair was my favorite character—he’s a character for anyone who has ever loved a villain—but it was a narrow win; all four of the narrators are utterly spectacular, with such nuance and realism that each utterly leapt off the page into my mind. Their struggles and distinct personalities were so vibrant, and the conflicts both between them and inside themselves propelled the story forward at an electric pace. The worldbuilding was stunning; I’ve never read a book with a world quite like All of Us Villain’s, a modern-ish world where magic is carried in spellstones and bought and sold like any other every-day tool. Every inch of it felt fresh and different; even the tournament, a familiar trope in YA literature, was unlike any I’ve ever read. Fast-paced, twisty, intense, and spectacular, I highly recommend All of Us Villains (and the AMAZING sequel!) to readers ages fourteen and up.  

Note: All of Us Villains is stunning on audio--highly recommended! 

By Nico

A lush garden grown where once the ground was dry and inhospitable. A family of women with flowers at their fingertips. A secret buried deep in the earth, waiting to find the sun.

The grounds of La Pradera were empty and parched until the Nomeolvides women filled them with flowers a century ago and made this odd estate their home. Estrella and her cousins are the latest generation of Nomeolvides to fill the flowerbeds with the blossoms that bloom from their hands, and to bear the weight of their family’s terrible curse: whoever they fall in love with will cease to exist, never to be seen again. Raised alongside three generations of Nomeolvides women, Estrella knows it is her fate to fall in love and have her heart broken, just as she knows blue flowers will always spill from her palms when she least expects them, and that her family’s curses are inescapable.

But the Nomeolvides’ way of life for a century is jeapordized when two strangers intrude upon La Pradera’s lush serenity, bringing with them a tangle of questions. One, a boy, is a mystery; he remembers nothing of his past, not even his own name, and yet may be the key to understanding the Nomeolvides’ curse. And the other, a man, seeks to shatter Estrella’s way of life—but he may only succeed in exposing the ugliest secrets deep within the earth.

​Anna-Marie McLemore is one of my absolute favorite writers; their luminous writing, stunning characters, and unusual plots have made every book I’ve read by them an instant favorite (some of their other works include Blanca and Roja, Lakelore, and When the Moon Was Ours). Wild Beauty was no exception. Intricate, gorgeous, and thought-provoking, this tale of family, love, and prejudice wove into something as deep as it is beautiful, a thoughtful reflection on the legacies our families leave us with and the price of forgetting the histories our world is built upon. But this fantasy world of flowers and curses is also part of our own, and the way McLemore seamlessly brings hatred, prejudice and dehumanization truly brings this story vibrantly, and devastatingly, alive. Lush, reflective, and powerful, I highly recommend Wild Beauty to readers ages twelve and up. 

By Ella

Callie has always known that they’re going to be a knight, just like their papa, who was once one of the most accomplished defenders of the land. The problem is, the whole world seems to think that Callie should learn magic like the girl they’ve never been, and that only boys should learn to fight with swords.

That’s ridiculous, of course—and luckily, Callie’s dads know that as well as they do. Still, although Callie has found a home where they’re accepted for who they are, they’ve always dreamed of going to Helston, the country’s capital, where young hopefuls train to become knights, and where their papa once fought at the king’s side. So when their papa is summoned to Helston to help train the prince, Callie leaps at the chance to visit and find their place.

It turns out, though, that not everyone else is so pleased with the prospect of Callie becoming a knight—particularly the chancellor who runs the city, who insists that Callie learn to use their much-hated magic and stay away with the women instead of becoming the knight they’ve always known they’re supposed to be. All their life, Callie's thought that Helston would be a fairytale, but it turns out it's full of bigots and discrimination. And when Callie stands up for themself, it doesn't go well. 

No one else seems to be struggling to cram themselves into Helston's strict roles, but Callie soon discovers that’s not the case—they meet Willow, a crown prince who’s never wanted to be a warrior; Elowen, the chancellor’s fierce and capable daughter; and Edwyn, her brother, who more than anything wants to fit the mold his father has set for him. Helston’s rigid society is just hurting everyone, and Callie already got enough of that kind of manipulation when they were younger. Together, it’s up to Callie and their new friends to stand up against a society that hates them—or else be forced to become the people they’ve never wanted to be.

I absolutely loved Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston. At once a fun fantasy adventure, an unflinching story about hatred and prejudice, and a brilliant, affirming reflection of everyone’s uniqueness in the face of an inflexible society, this is definitely one of my favorites of 2023 so far. Esme Symes-Smith draws from many familiar tropes but makes them fully their own, creating an utterly amazing setting that feels more complete and well-rounded than any I can recently remember. Helston perfectly reflects the beauty and deep-rooted imperfections that coexist in our world, too, which helped to make it heartbreaking and vivid in equal measure.

However, that said, the characters were definitely my favorite part of Sir Callie. Callie, of course, was a favorite—their bravery, determination, and sheer stubbornness made me fall in love with them immediately, and I’m so glad there will be more books in the series for me to get to know them better! But every single character in this book were spectacular and nuanced, particularly Willow and Edwyn, whose struggles, though very different, are each so full of realism and power that I couldn’t help but root for them through all the stories twists and turns. A special shout-out has to go to the chancellor, not because I liked him, but because I hated him with such a burning passion—it’s a rare villain who I truly despise, but he went above and beyond in this particular department.

Although Sir Callie was sometimes hard to read—where many books, especially middle-grade fantasy, will skirt around painful topics, this one does the reverse—this was one of my favorite parts about it. Esme Symes-Smith’s willingness to face even incredibly difficult topics head-on was part of why I connected so deeply with Callie and their story; they perfectly encapsulate incredible messiness of reckoning and healing.

​I highly recommend Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston to readers ages eleven and up—if you’ve ever wanted to read a queer mash-up of a Tamora Pierce book, this one’s for you! 

By Ella

The Golden Frog Games is the sequel to Witchlings, and the second book in Claribel A. Ortega’s ongoing Witchlings series.

[Look out—there are spoilers for book 1 below!]

Being one of the most famous Spares in the Twelve Towns is a lot to live up to. Especially for Seven, who’s heralded not just as the Spare who defeated the Nightbeast but as the future Town Uncle—a Town Uncle who, despite all her best efforts, can hear the voices of dangerous monstruos far louder than the animals that are supposed to be speaking to her. But ever since she, Valley, and Thorn made history as the first true Spare coven, they’ve been the face of all the Spares in the Twelve Towns. And Seven is sure that admitting she’s failing at her most basic Uncle duties is exactly what the growing number of anti-Spare agitators need to prove that Spares were always supposed to be powerless.

Amid a rise in anti-Spare sentiment, Seven hopes that the Golden Frog Games—an anticipated tournament where the Twelve Towns compete in everything from frog racing to magical clothing—will allay the worst of the tension, thanks to Seven’s covenmate and friend Thorn being a prime contender in the costura division. But when a fellow competitor is turned to stone, with Thorn the prime suspect, it’s up to Seven, Valley, and Thorn to find the hexer before they hurt anyone else.

I loved Witchlings, so I was super excited for the sequel—and it didn’t disappoint! Brimming with quirky worldbuilding, humor, and adventure, I didn’t want to put this story down. As before, the characters are awesome—Seven, Thorn, and Valley are one of my favorite literary trios, both for their individual personalities and the way they interact with each other. They feel like such a natural group of friends, and I love reading about them! The new cast was also great (I particularly liked Graves), always bringing energy and quirkiness to the narrative. I particularly loved seeing Seven and her friends stand up to anti-Spare prejudice in this book, and her struggle and determination in the face of it; realistic and thoughtful, it helped make the world of Witchlings come alive. I highly recommend The Golden Frog Games (and the Witchlings series) to readers ages ten and up. 

By Ella

Mar’s papá is one of the greatest pirates in the Caribbean—and one of the most feared by the Spanish conquerors whom he steals from. But for Mar, their papá’s ship is more than a home; it’s their sanctuary, the only place where they can use their mysterious fire and ice magia without being called a demon, and where they can be their authentic self without people sorting them into gendered boxes that have never really fit.

On Mar’s sixteenth birthday, though, their way of life is shattered when they learn that their papá made a bargain years ago with el Diablo himself—and that he’s come to collect his price. In the chaos of fire and wind that he summons, the ship goes down, and Mar is the only survivor.

Saved by irritating—and inexplicably pretty—son of a rival pirate ship’s captain, Mar is left to forge a new life for themselves, one where no one knows who they are or what they can do and discovery means death. And overhanging it all is el Diablo’s painful ultimatum: either Mar sacrifices themself to save their father by the time two moon cycles have passed, or they’ll lose him forever.

Mar must fend off hostile pirates, Spanish soldiers, an irritatingly persistent demonio, and their own uncertainty and insecurity if they want to have any hope of saving their father—and of getting through the next few weeks alive.

Fast-paced, absorbing, and brilliant, The Wicked Bargain is fantasy pirates at their finest, perfect for fans of The Sunbearer Trials. I absolutely love the historical fantasy world Novoa has woven in this book—blending real-life events (Latinx pirates, Caribbean conflicts with the Spanish colonizers) and fantasy elements (magia, el Diablo, demonios) into a riveting, atmospheric story that I couldn’t put down. Mar was such an awesome protagonist—their realistic, powerful internal conflicts and nuanced gender identity truly brought this story to life for me. I particularly loved their interactions with the supporting cast, particularly Bas and Demi (my two other favorite characters), which had a depth and spark that helped absorb me in their world. I highly recommend The Wicked Bargain to anyone ages thirteen and up who loves engrossing, multilayered YA fantasy, particularly that which stars trans and LGBTQ+ characters. 

By Ella

Kai does not want to go to summer camp. E doesn’t see the point—after all, even with the incident that left eir arm in a sling a few weeks ago, e doesn’t think that going away to summer camp is going to fix anything. Kai just wants to hang out with eir friends at home. But no: eir parents are sure that sending em to a summer camp decked out in rainbows and pride flags will fix everything, and so, reluctantly, Kai packs eir bags.

Abigail can’t think of a way she’d rather spend her summer then at Camp QUILTBAG. A summer camp full of other LGBTQ+ teens sounds perfect…especially after the humiliating coming-out-gone-wrong that’s left her an outcast from her longtime friends. But she can’t help but feel a little out of place surrounded by all these kids who know exactly who they are, when this is the first time Abigail has been able to talk about who she likes without risking outright rejection.

Kai and Abigail might be unlikely friends, but soon after arriving at Camp QUILTBAG, they make a pact to help each other. Kai will help Abigail be more confident, and Abigail will help Kai’s group win the highly competitive camp-wide competition. Along the way, Abigail and Kai will both make friends and find their place at Camp QUILTBAG—and learn more about themselves, too.

​Camp QUILTBAG is a fun, quirky middle-grade novel perfect for anyone looking for a lighthearted and thoughtful summery read. I really liked all the characters—although Kai and Abigail were particularly awesome, there were so many more minor characters who felt equally developed and interesting (I particularly liked Oren and Juliana). The ways they interacted and found common ground truly formed the backbone of this story, and the relationships in Camp QUILTBAG were some of the highlights for me. I highly recommend Camp QUILTBAG to readers ages eight and up, particularly those who like inclusive middle-grade and summertime reads. 

P.S. If you like Camp QUILTBAG, check out our interview with coauthor A. J. Sass about his first book, Ana on the Edge! 

By Ella

Jam knows there are no monsters left in Lucille. She knows this because everyone knows this, because all the terrible people who liked hurting everyone else were killed in the revolution that took them out of power in the government and in jobs and in homes, and freed everyone from their selfishness and cruelty.

That hasn’t kept her from wondering what monsters really looked like, though, if they had horns and claws or looked no different from her parents or her best friend, Redemption. People don’t like to talk about the monsters anymore, don’t want to dwell on a time everyone knows is over. But Jam imagines that they looked just like any other person. That that was why they stayed in power for so long.

When a creature made of horns and claws climbs out of one of Jam’s mother’s paintings, it certainly looks like a monster. But instead, Pet—for that is the creature’s name—is hunting one, a monster that has slipped through Lucille’s cracks and lives among them. Among them, and in Redemption’s house, no less.

Jam doesn’t want to believe it. After all, who wants to believe in monsters? It’s far prettier to believe that all the monsters are gone, just like she’s always been taught. It’s far easier to look away from the wrongs that could be happening, just underneath her nose.

But Pet won’t let her look away anymore. And the only thing more difficult than realizing that there still are monsters is daring to look them in the eye.

​Pet is truly incredible. Powerful, succinct, and layered despite its relatively low page count, I’ve wanted to read this book for years, and it didn’t disappoint. There are few authors who can pull off such a deep, philosophical story without ever feeling preachy or contrived, but Emezi does it effortlessly, weaving a story as profound as it is profoundly unique. They take familiar tropes—dystopia/utopia, monsters and angels—and turns them into something as unfamiliar and jarringly powerful as Pet itself. The humanity of the characters—even Pet, who is anything but human—grants Pet even more depth, and the conflicts and worldviews they each present help weave Lucille into a world that is devastatingly believable, one where everyone would rather believe in the world’s good than see the monsters lurking among them. At once a searing critique of forgetting and complacency and a challenge to the hideous monsters we’ve all been taught to believe in, Pet is a perfect read for book groups or anyone who wants to see their own beliefs challenged, and dare to, as Pet tells Jam, truly see the world for what it is. I highly recommend Pet to readers ages thirteen and up, particularly those who enjoy books that defy easy boxes or have a queernormative society.