One of my favorite things about historical fiction is the window they provide into seldom studied chapters in history. Letters from Cuba by Ruth Behar is an epistalory novel about a Jewish refugee putting down roots in Cuba while working to bring the rest of her family out of Poland during the horrors of the Second World War. Twelve year old Ester narrates her new and mostly welcoming life in Cuba in letters to the sister she left behind. It is based on the author’s own family story. It won a 2020 Pura Belpré Award and is from Nancy Paulson Books at Penguin Random House.
I have seldom read a chapter book as emotionally true as Maybe Maybe Marisol Rainey. Our hero is the delightfully cautious and introspective Marisol, a Philippine -American girl living in Louisiana. The two things I appreciated most about this book was the main characters disarming honesty about her many fears, and her steadfast best friend Jada. So many middle grade books address the problem of the mean, snarky, bullying girl. It’s easy to forget that children–even girls–are as capable of kindness as they are of cruelty. I loved Jada’s unquestioning acceptance of Marisol’s many quirks. I loved their imaginative play and the hilarious names they gave to household appliances. And I loved Marisol’s unwavering faith in her friend. I also appreciated the leisurely pace of the story, which meandered from one summer activity to the next while Marisol thoughtfully addressed her fear of climbing the magnolia tree in her back yard. This is a perfect choice for a tender-hearted reader.
This is the second in the new chapter book series featuring Ryan Hart. I admit I am especially fond of this series because it is set in Portland OR, my hometown and features favorite places from my own childhood including the Saturday Market, Oaks Park, and my beloved county libraries. I also very much appreciated how the faith of Ryan Hart’s family is depicted in the moral lessons they impart and the summer bible camp she and her brother attend. Ryan spends a summer preparing for the birth of her baby sister and adjusting to all the changes that entails from doing more chores to choosing a name. This series is longer and more complex than some chapter books making it best for 6 to 10 year olds–a good companion for readers of Clementine, and Ramona.
And now a personal aside. The majority of children of all races in this country are religiously observant. The entire culture of worship, vacation bible school and summer camp, church based sports teams and scout troops, social justice activities, youth groups, rites of passage, and sacraments, all of it, gets left out of children’s books and there’s absolutely no reason for it. Even in conversations specifically about diversity we seldom include religion and that’s a blind spot that could use some attention.
So many of us have spent our Covid days pouring our hearts into our gardens. Here is the perfect book for your budding botanist. Ignotofky covers the life cycle of a flower with enough detail to appeal to children as old as 10. But the text is arranged so that a child as young as 2 or 3 could skip over the details about stamens and pistils and simply enjoy the narrative of the life of a flower. And readers will want to return to it again and again lingering over the distinctive and vivid illustrations.
Every baby should have this jewel among counting books. Not only is it an homage to the ecosystem of the Salish Sea, it’s a clear and kid-friendly introduction to the creatures who live there. I confess I’m partial to the page with “9 orcas hunting together”. But it’s when McClure takes us beyond ten that the book really shines. 100 sculpins, 500 dunlins, 10,000 plankton–readers of all ages are invited to contemplate the magnitude of the ecosystem both it’s immensity and it’s fragility. McClure’s trademark cut paper work, here beautifully paired with delicate watercolors, will delight the newborn drawn to the high contrast art, and satisfy the older reader with Its intricate design and satisfying composition.
