​I have another wonderful historical fiction novel to share with you today: Light and Air, by Mindy Nichols Wendell. We have a lot going on this week (starting up homeschool with a senior in high school all the way down to a pre-pre-schooler!), so let's start out with the Publisher's description:

It's 1935, and tuberculosis is ravaging the nation. Everyone is afraid of this deadly respiratory illness. But what happens when you actually have it?

When Halle and her mother both come down with TB, they are shunned—and then they are sent to the J.N. Adam Tuberculosis Hospital: far from home, far from family, far from the world.

Tucked away in the woods of upstate New York, the hospital is a closed and quiet place. But it is not, Halle learns, a prison. Free of her worried and difficult father for the first time in her life, she slowly discovers joy, family, and the healing power of honey on the children's ward, where the girls on the floor become her confidantes and sisters. But when Mama suffers a lung hemorrhage, their entire future—and recovery—is thrown into question....

Light and Air deals tenderly and insightfully with isolation, quarantine, found family, and illness. Set in the fully realized world of a 1930s hospital, it offers a tender glimpse into a historical epidemic that has become more relatable than ever due to the COVID-19 pandemic. As Halle tries to warm her father’s coldness and learns to trust the girls and women of the hospital, and as she and her mother battle a disease that once paralyzed the country, a profound message of strength, hope, and healing emerges.

My thoughts:

I LOVED Light and Air. It had all the atmosphere and quiet building of suspense that I associate with my favorite vintage stories; in fact, Light and Air felt more like a book actually written in the early twentieth century than a modern book set then. (I can say that about very few books, and the lack of it is not necessarily a problem as much as a recognition of style, but I sure do like it when I find it.) 

As a head’s up to parents, this book (as you can see from the description) deals with some heavy topics: a child dies, multiple miscarriages are mentioned, and a parent suffers from depression and anxiety. None of these topics is gratuitious, however, and the plot is beautifully woven around the idea that even the dark things we go through can make us better human beings if we allow ourselves to hurt and heal. 

Have you read Light and Air yet? What did you think of it? Personally, I’m tucking it neatly away in my “2025 Newbery Hopeful” shelf!

For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday recommendations, be sure to visit Always in the Middle: http://gpattridge.com

(Note: The publisher's description says the book is set in Upstate New York. The book itself gets it "right:" the setting is near Buffalo, in Western New York. We had a fun, friendly little argument about this over on Instagram, but all the people who actually lived near Buffalo--like I used to!--agree that Western New York is the correct term.  ;)

Today's featured book made me laugh out loud, cry actual tears, and think deep thoughts. I absolutely loved it. It's also a book I would never, ever have picked up as a kid. I might not even have enjoyed it, had I been forced into it. It's not because it's an adult-focused book, or one kids won't enjoy. In fact, my teenage daughter read it before I did and enjoyed every minute. It's simply because people change, and thank goodness there are books written for every step of life we take. The Tenth Mistake of Hank Hooperman, by Jennifer Choldenko, while its story might bear little resemblance to my actual life right now, was somehow, mysteriously exactly what I needed at this moment in time.

Here's the publisher's description:
When eleven-year-old Hank’s mom doesn’t come home, he takes care of his toddler sister, Boo, like he always does. But it’s been a week now. They are out of food and mom has never stayed away this long… Hank knows he needs help, so he and Boo seek out the stranger listed as their emergency contact.
But asking for help has consequences. It means social workers, and a new school, and having to answer questions about his mom that he's been trying to keep secret. And if they can't find his mom soon, Hank and Boo may end up in different foster homes--he could lose everything. 
Gennifer Choldenko has written a heart-wrenching, healing, and ultimately hopeful story about how complicated family can be. About how you can love someone, even when you can’t rely on them. And about the transformative power of second chances.

It's been a bit since I read a contemporary middle grade story this compelling, or with a character so completely lovable as Hank. My long-time readers know that "issue books" aren't my thing, so I will assure you that while this story touches upon many painful topics, it is not about them. It's very much a story about a boy and his relationship with his sister and his mother, as well as his own growth in understanding of himself and his worth. 

​As I mentioned, my teenage daughter read this before me and loved it—she warned me that it was serious in moments and would probably make me cry (yup), so I asked her "Are the sad moments like Gary D. Schmidt sad or Bridge to Terabithia sad?" Her answer: "Well, it's hard to say… It's more like Claire Swinarski sad."  After finishing it, I knew exactly what she meant. Hank Hooperman hit me in the gut and pulled at my heartstrings just like Claire Swinarski's middle grade books. If I was shelving books based on their vibes and the range of emotions I felt while reading them, this one would go right next to Swinarski's The Kate In Between. 

If you and your kids love books like that, this is a must-read. But if you don't usually…maybe give it a chance. Books are such wonderful ways to expand our imaginations and our empathy, to grow in understanding of people whose lives are very very different from our own but who are very very worthy of love. 

For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday recommendations, check out Always in the Middle: http://gpattridge.com

After a long hiatus, I'm back with Marvelous Middle Grade Monday—and it's good timing, because there are some amazing books that have come out this year and I can't wait to share them with you!

First up, a spectacular WWII Historical novel: The Night War, by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley. 

Confession: I wasn't a huge fan of Kimberly Brubaker Bradley's other historical fiction. For a variety of reasons, despite the fact that *everyone* seemed to love ​The War that Saved My Life,  I simply couldn't connect to the main character (this says a lot, author friends, about why you have to find the right agent/editor/readers for your book and not judge its value on one opinion!). But I decided to give her another chance with The Night War, both because the description was so alluring and because I'd heard so much buzz about its merits and controversy about its authorship. (Briefly, and I'll get into this later, some readers were put off by the fact that a non-Jewish author depicted a Jewish main character.) And I'm glad I put my pre-conceived ideas aside, because I loved The Night War from the very first chapter.

Here's the publisher's description:
It’s 1942. German Nazis occupy much of France. And twelve-year-old Miriam, who is Jewish, is not safe. With help and quick thinking, Miri is saved from the roundup that takes her entire Jewish neighborhood. She escapes Paris, landing in a small French village, where the spires of the famous Chateau de Chenonceau rise high into the sky, its bridge across the River Cher like a promise, a fairy tale.
But Miri’s life is no fairy tale. Her parents are gone—maybe alive, maybe not. Taken in at the boarding school near the chateau, pretending to be Catholic to escape Nazi capture, Miri volunteers one night to undertake a deadly task, one that spans the castle grounds, its bridge, and the very border to freedom. Here is her chance to escape—hopefully to find her parents. But will she take it? One thing is certain: The person Miri meets that night will save her life. And the person Miri becomes that night could save the lives of many more.
In her return to the era of The War that Saved My Life and The War I Finally Won, Kimberly Brubaker Bradley brings a new and different story, one with a mystical twist, that explores a little-known slice of World War II history, a highly unusual friendship, and the power of choosing courage even when—especially when—there are no good choices to be had.
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Like most WWII stories, I would recommend this to mature middle grade readers. Besides the usual WWII prejudice and violence, there are some mentions of the mistress of King Henri of France in the 1500's, mentions of menstruation (not exactly a mature topic but one I feel children have the right to hear about from their parents first), and many theological questions that might be overwhelming for young children without guidance (though they're EXCELLENT conversation starters, and I think this would make a perfect parent-child book club or family read aloud). 

Back to the topic I teased before… The author is neither Jewish nor Catholic, and, yes, she gets some details wrong on both counts. (I have heard many people talk about the Jewish elements, but so far no one has mentioned the Catholic ones, like the fact that baptisms were not celebrated during Mass in the 40's, or that the rosary does not begin with the first Hail Mary of the first decade). Here's the thing. As a Catholic, I appreciate that an author tried to represent members of my faith and to do it honestly and fairly. I loved that alongside the stereotypical "mean nun," you have several spectacularly brave and kind nuns. I feel the same when male authors tell a story about a female character, or when non-homeschoolers try their best to honestly represent homeschooling, or when non-Americans make the effort to get American culture right. Especially in historical fiction, I think we have to acknowledge that NONE of us truly knows what it was like to live in a different time. No matter how much we may have in common with our characters, we historical fictions writers are stuck in the dilemma—and with the advantage—of needing to use research and imagination to get us through. I'm willing to accept a few mistakes because no one but Kimberly Brubaker Bradley could have imagined and researched and told this unique story. If I had written it, the prayers of the rosary would be correct, but the heart would be different. If a Jewish author had written it, they wouldn't have made the same mistakes about the Jewish experience, but it would be a different story. This story came to Kimberly Brubaker Bradley and no one else, and I'm very grateful that she chose to tell it. 

Have you read this book yet? Do you agree or disagree with my opinion? I'm always happy to have respectful conversation in the comments, and I certainly think this topic has room for varying opinions.

For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday recommendations, visit Always in the Middle, at http://gpattridge.com.

Believe it or not, this is the question that got me into serious book reviewing, about 15 years ago: 

My answer then was the same one I still give first nowadays:

Artemis Fowl, by Eoin Colfer.
The action, the humor, the sci-fi "magical" world…all of it is sure to draw in the most reluctant readers. That reader I mentioned above? He dove into Book 1 and never stopped raiding his library shelves for more and more books. It took just a few months for him to consider himself an obsessive reader.

I've added a few more ideas to my list since then… Many are series (because after a series you love, it can sometimes be hard to jump into a number of standalone books in a row). Almost all are humorous and adventurous and gripping. And they're all excellent on audio as well!

Artemis Fowl series, by Eoin Colfer
The False Prince series, by Jennifer Nielsen
Roald Dahl's children's books
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, by Ian Fleming; and the new sequels by Frank Cottrell Boyce (Of all the books on this list, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang almost didn't make the cut, even though I love it. But the sequels are so fast-paced and constantly laugh-out-loud funny that I had to include them! You could always watch the movie and then skip ahead if your kids aren't ready for the slightly more slow and challenging style of the original.)
Sputnik's Guide to Life on Earth, by Frank Cottrell Boyce (the audiobook's narrator is Peter Capaldi—of Doctor Who—and he does an amazing job)
Cosmic, by Frank Cottrell Boyce
Beneath the Swirling Sky, by Carolyn Lieloglou (this is the first in a series; the second will be released this fall)
Holes, by Louis Sachar
Echo, by Pam Munoz Ryan (especially wonderful on audio!)
The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place series, by Maryrose Wood (another audio book par excellence.)
Redwall series, by Brian Jacques
Peter and the Starcatchers series, by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson
Tuesdays at the Castle series, by Jessica Day George
The Girl Who Drank the Moon, by Kelly Barnhill (slightly on the mature side, so check it out before handing to a younger child)

What books would you add to the list?

There's an Albert Einstein quote that [all right, rather embarrassingly] I think of almost daily:

"If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."

Of course I love that the great physicist Einstein prioritized language and literature. But what strikes me repeatedly is that he understood that intelligence about LIFE is more important than an ability to solve an equation follow a set of rules. While modern research backs up the idea that reading and being read to improves children's academic abilities across the board, I don't think that was what Einstein was talking about. He realized, I think, that there was a danger in becoming so "educated" in career-focused skills that we would forget how to be human. Being human, and being the best humans we can be, is something that has been taught through fairy tales since stories were first uttered, I imagine. (Even Jesus taught through parables!)

When I began reading ​Mio, My Son, by Astrid Lindgren, all I knew about it was that one of my favorite authors had written it, and one of my best-book-loving-friends (it's a whole category, you all know that) loved it. In fact, after my friend Liz wrote about it for Plough magazine back in 2021, the book's popularity took off so quickly that I literally could not find a copy anywhere. Liz came to my rescue and sent me a copy for Christmas, so I'm finally just getting on the Mio bandwagon. Start searching book sales and eBay, friends, because you're going to want to join me.

Briefly, Mio is an unloved orphan boy who finds himself carried away to Farawayland, where he discovers he is in fact the beloved son of the great King. He walks in the garden with his father, rides through the fields with his magnificent horse, plays in the forest with his best friend. His life is everything he only ever dreamed of—until he becomes aware of an evil that has sidled its way into Farawayland, stealing children and turning their hearts to stone. He realizes he is the one destined to fight this evil, but he doesn't know how one little boy could conquer so strong an enemy.

In many ways, Mio is vastly unlike the Astrid Lindgren books I've read thus far. Even with its madcap and unrealistic adventures, Pippi Longstocking and Ronia, the Robber's Daughter are very concretely set in the real world. More so with The Children of Noisy Village. My recent favorite, Seacrow Island, reads much like much-loved vintage stories of realistic children by Noel Streatfeild or even Beverly Cleary. Mio, on the the other hand, takes all of one chapter to let you know that you have been whisked away to fairyland just like Mio was. In that sense, it immediately brings to mind the works of Tolkien and Lewis and MacDonald (especially MacDonald in tone, and especially Tolkien in theme). With a genie in a bottle and a magic sword and children whisked away by an evil knight, it's as fairy tale as fairy tales get.

And yet. The Astrid-Lindgren-ness of Astrid Lindgren can't help itself. Because where ​Mio shines is its portrayal of a very real, very human child. Mio, in his normal longing for a father and for a friend and for a pet, is every bit as concretely (and sometimes hilariously) human as Pippi or Tommy and Annika.

Like every great fairy tale (and, again, this is what I think Einstein was talking about), Mio asks important—human—questions: How do we handle the loss of ones we love? How can we do the hard things that have to be done? Is there someone who could ever love us unconditionally? It answers these questions, not directly, but by inference, and perhaps that's what makes them stick all the better. The most striking feeling I came away with after closing the cover was this: "I am loved. And that love will give me the strength to do any hard thing that needs to be done."

I highly recommend Liz's article for a more thoughtfully intellectual take on this story; I'm not sure if it was a mistake or a wise move, but I read her article right before sitting down to write this, and I found that she had already articulated 90% of my thoughts so perfectly that it was futile to reiterate them!

Have you read Mio ​already? I'd love to know your thoughts!
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For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday recommendations, check out Always in the Middle!

Happy Marvelous Middle Grade Monday, and happy Middle Grade March! I've got such a fun line up of books I hope to read this month, share with my kids, and share with all of you (you can check out my hopefuls on Instagram), and today I'm starting with a new middle grade ghost story: The Girl in the Window, by Lindsey Hobson, published by Monarch Books.

Here's the publisher's description:

When Izzy breaks a window in the creepy house next door, her summer plans suddenly go from playing baseball in the backyard to doing yard work for mysterious Mr. Johnson to pay for the damage. Just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she encounters a ghost girl with a cryptic HELP ME. As Izzy begins to unravel the mystery surrounding the girl's death, she discovers a whole new meaning to being friends... forever.

What I liked:

I always enjoy sibling stories, and the sibling dynamic in this was realistic and a lot of fun.

It's been a while since I read a good kids-playing-baseball-in-the-backyard book, and I loved that element! (Anyone have any good recommendations of other books that fit that bill?)

One of my favorite story tropes, no matter how often it may be done, is that of misjudging someone and learning you were wrong. It's such an important lesson, isn't it? One I need to be reminded of, over and over and over. I hope it's not too much of a spoiler, but that theme features heavily in The Girl in the Window.

There were a few things that kept this from being a five-star read for me: I know, I know, my husband is an artist and I'm extremely picky. But I wish the publishers had gone with a different direction with the cover, which I felt didn't express the overall feel of the story very well. I also felt that the shift from not-as-spooky-as-you'd-think to very-spooky was very jarring. I'm all for fun twists, but the editor in me wanted to see more foreshadowing throughout. Overall, however, I found this to be a fun and interesting story that middle grade fans of Nancy Drew, who like a taste of the suspenseful and scary, will very much enjoy!

For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday recommendation, check out Always in the Middle.