The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

There’s a little bit of everything in this unusual fantasy novel for older kids or young adults (or any of us, obviously). Sweet, heartwarming, and surprisingly bloody, The Mermaid, the Witch and the Sea offers mermaids, pirates, and young love. Imagine a bit of Treasure Island, but gender-bending and with a greater emphasis on political workings and class divisions. And magic.

We open with a murder on a pirate ship, then shift to high tea in a house of wealth and privilege. In the first scene, a teenaged boy named Florian earns his keep, having gambled on a life of piracy to save him and his brother from a life of deprivation and scant survival on the streets of the Imperial capital city. In the second, a girl named Evelyn chafes at the bounds of her household, where she enjoys status but not the love of her parents, who plan to send her away to be married to a man none of the family has ever met. Evelyn winds up on the same ship as Florian, where loyalties are split between factions supporting the Empire (who have colonized almost all of the known world, to the discontent of many) and the Pirate Supreme, who serves the Sea. “The Pirate Supreme’s forces were the only thing standing in the way of complete Imperial rule on the open sea. If pirates could still disrupt the merchants, still stymie the trade routes, then the Imperialists could not claim full control. Every robbery, every kidnapping, every galleon destroyed was a protest against the Emperor.” Some loyalties have yet to reveal themselves. And oh, Florian is also Flora, whose pronouns and identity as ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ shift throughout the story. “Both, maybe, but not neither.” “Both were equally true to her” (or him); “neither told the whole story.” Florian is Black and Evelyn is something like Japanese, although these seem to be descriptive details rather than identities that affect status or prejudice in their world.

Flora has lived life on the margins, making hard choices, fighting for life in the most basic ways. Evelyn has suffered a different kind of privation, unloved and lacking agency, but has never imagined the kinds of challenges Flora has faced. The two have much to learn from each other. And I haven’t even mentioned the effects of mermaid blood or its price on the open market, the scarcity of witches in Imperial colonies, or the far-seeing powers of a conscious Sea.

Delightful, weird, fanciful, queer coming-of-age with murder and magic. Violence, rather than sex, may recommend a readership in their teens more than their tweens, depending on blood tolerance, but the themes are solid: finding oneself, living one’s truth, navigating ethical puzzles, being a good friend. And it’s a page-turner to boot.


Rating: 7 haircuts.

The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik

**Spoiler-Free!**

Following A Deadly Education and The Last Graduate, The Golden Enclaves wraps up the Scholomance series. I am very pleased with this conclusion and the whole series. For spoilers’ sake, this review includes practically no plot summary.

As a series finale, The Golden Enclaves takes on a lot, and involves a ton of action, ranging very widely in the ‘true’ geographic world as well as in the void and the magical spaces that populate Novik’s imagined world. A number of characters take great steps; this is indeed a coming-of-age for El, who has graduated from the Scholomance and achieved some real victories, but only to step out into a larger world where the monsters are decided not all neatly taken care of. She’s suffering some losses, not least in realizing the limits of her powers: she is one of the most powerful wizards ever, but there are still limits. We see her take less advantage of the friendships and alliances we’ve seen her form up til now, but also find news ones and/or revive some that have lain dormant.

I love about this whole series that it offers commentary on class divisions and the ethics of who gets to be safe and cared for in the world. Those themes are strengthened here, and complicated. There is a very pointed conflict of interests that she calls a trolley problem, of the highest order; El must face that she cannot (so to speak) save them all, that every choice has a cost. In the face of this frustration, she wavers, considers giving up. We have learned that El is incredibly strong and strong-willed; she doesn’t give up easily. But we have also never seen her tested like this.

I love the characters, including one or two who are still ‘rising’, coming to center stage. I love El herself so dearly; she struggles so hard with this book, even after having accepted help and friendship, and her struggles often yield some good snarky humor and fun amid the pathos. Novik has enormous world-building power, which was evidenced at the series’ start but is still at play here, because our understanding of the world (and El’s understanding of it!) must expand considerably in this book. I’d recommend her to anyone.


Rating: 8 bricks.

The Stolen Throne by Abigail Owen

Book two in the Dominions trilogy picks up where The Liar’s Crown left off. Meren continues to carry the weight of great responsibility, even over her twin, Tabra, who is ostensibly the “real” princess – now queen – half of their twinship. Tabra carries the privileges and Meren the hard work. We don’t resent Tabra for this, however, because she is so sweet. In fact, I’m inclined to say she’s a bit too sweet – a little boring and a little less realistic than our hero, because if Meren is sometimes frustrating, she’s also a realistic teenager, as well as a brave, hard-working young woman, fighting for the good of all the people in her world, and growing up at the same time. In this installment, she realizes what good friends she has – even if some of them betray her. And she’s still navigating love, romance, and sex. There are still the two young men in her life. One is her lifelong best friend, Cain, who wants to marry but whose love tends toward overprotection and limitation. And then there is Reven, who represents risk and danger to Cain’s security, but for whom Meren feels actual fireworks; also, the two of them are bound (magically) by their trauma and having saved one another’s lives. That drama progresses here, as does the larger drama of risk to Meren’s very world and the people she (or is it Tabra?) rules over and is responsible for.

I find the interpersonal dramas more compelling than the magic in this series; the amulets, goddesses, monsters and political machinations are trappings, or framing, for the interactions between people (and gods, Shadows, monsters, etc.) that interest me. Which is not especially a criticism, but an observation. I returned to this world in search of a comfort read, and in spite of danger and death and violence and all that, I absolutely find it here. I appreciate Meren’s struggles and the push/pull she feels with Reven, especially. I remain invested in these characters and am looking forward to book three, which is promised for April of 2024.


Rating: 7 glimpses of golden thread.

Ellie’s Story by W. Bruce Cameron

Another one from my young friend. I knew this was a risky book for me, because dogs are my kryptonite, or my Achilles’ heel, if you will. My young friend does not know this. I read the book anyway, but I knew it would hurt me, and it did.

It’s a good book, and I enjoyed it in some ways, but an important part of this review is to say that it hurt me.

Librarians I have known have a shorthand code for a way to talk about whether books will hurt us. We say, does the dog die? This is generally metaphoric – there may not even be a dog – but you get the idea; if ‘the dog dies,’ the story takes a tragic turn that might make readers cry. In this book, the dog does not literally die, but I did still cry. (Note that I am an especially messy reader on the topic of dogs. Your mileage as always may vary. But if you have a soft spot like I do, beware.)

The title dog Ellie narrates her story from birth. Cameron does a good job with this voice: not only a voice of innocence but a canine one, Ellie tells what she sees and hears around her, her comprehension gradually growing, but the reader mostly understands more than she does. (She is, in a strange turn, able to relate human dialog, which we understand but she does not.) A German shepherd puppy, she’s chosen by a police officer out of her litter, and trained to be a search-and-rescue dog. She bonds with this owner/handler, Jakob, but he is injured in a shooting and she’s reassigned to a new handler, Maya. Ellie is an especially talented search-and-rescue dog, and continues to do excellent work with Maya. Ellie’s Story entails several great, heroic events, culminating in one I’m going to call pretty unlikely; but it’s a very impactful tale, emotional and moving (obviously), and with some fun educational info about search-and-rescue dogs built sneakily in. I also like that this edition includes discussion questions and activities both for the family at home (warning: this book has your family signed up for some significant work!) and for the classroom. Solid.

A good book, but risky for some of us. I’ll steer clear of more like it, myself.


Rating: 7 socks.

Dragon Spear by Jessica Day George

Dragon Spear is the final volume in the Dragon Slippers trilogy, and I remain glad I was handed that first book by a young friend. These have been entirely fun, with positive messaging and enough grit and humor to keep me engaged. The dragon characters are as sweet and diverse as the human ones, and the women and girls, and female dragons, tend to be both clever and strong. It’s very appealing material for this age group, and I found it perfect, easy reading while on a recent trip to see family.

In this episode, once again, we think the dragons are safe until they aren’t. This time something’s different: the threat comes from other dragons, under their own power and not that of malicious humans. In fact, these dragons enslave humans. And there are some young ones at stake–as well as Creel’s wedding dress, as her union with the younger prince approaches. We lose track of Marta, which is a shame, but get a new human buddy: Creel’s brother Hagen has shown up. He’s an interesting new feature. Dragon friends, and the prince Luka, remain steadfast.

It seems like faint praise to say that this one offers nothing especially new. But I truly feel comforted by knowing what to expect, especially at this reading level. This one is faithful to the series in pleasing ways.

A final strong recommendation. And I’m a little bit considering looking into George’s other works.


Rating: 7 holes.

Girls with a Voice and Girls with Courage by Ann Turnbull and Adèle Geras

Another loan from my favorite 11-year-old, this is a pair of historical novels linked by location. Girls with a Voice, by Ann Turnbull, is about a 12-year-old girl named Mary Ann who travels from London to a boarding school in the nearby village of Chelsea in 1764. She is excited to study singing and the harpsichord there, because she wants to perform as an opera singer onstage (an ambition her family is not especially supportive of). She makes good friends, not only with her fellow pupils, but with a maid in the large house where the school is located. The maid, Jenny, also has a fine singing voice, but because of her class, cannot have the same training as Mary Ann. Jenny sings ballads in the streets for money, however, which Mary Ann finds extraordinary. When circumstances change for Mary Ann’s family, she has to get creative in problem-solving to continue following her dream.

In Girls with Courage, set in 1857, Adèle Geras tells us about Lizzie, also 12, who is on a journey from her home in the country into London, to stay with family in their large, impressive home on Chelsea Walk. This is the same home that housed Mary Ann’s boarding school nearly 100 years earlier; what was then an outlying village is now part of the city, and Lizzie, a country mouse, is awed by the bustle. Lizzie’s father died when she was young, and her beloved mother Cecily is now remarried to a dour man who has suggested Lizzie go away for a spell, as Cecily is pregnant. Lizzie will stay with her father’s brother’s family: uncle, aunt, three cousins including a boy her own age, another uncle who has been injured in the Crimean War, and a grandmother, as well as several servants. Compared to her spare country upbringing, this life strikes Lizzie as grand and luxurious, although also limiting: she enjoyed learning about plants and trees from a local orchardist, and now is forced to do needlework that she finds very tedious. Cut off from her late father’s books by the mean stepfather, she now yearns to learn the math and science that her cousin Hugh gets to study. She misses her mother terribly–and when something seems to have gone amiss back home, Lizzie will have to be brave to help.

As you can tell from these summaries, both stories are a bit sweet and instructive. While I like these protagonists, they are earnest and simple and good-hearted in a way that leaves off the grit and snark and fun I like in all my reading, children’s and young adult of course included. Compared to the Dragon Slippers trilogy this same young friend introduced me to, Girls is less delightful. That said, I passed a pleasant enough day-and-a-half here, and have no argument with the messaging about girls following their passions – whether in music or botany – and standing up for themselves (and their mothers). This messaging is not exactly radical, but still solid. And I’m glad my young friend is interested in history. I look forward to hearing what she loved about the book, and will continue reading anything she brings me.


Rating: 6 walnuts.

Dragon Flight by Jessica Day George

Book two in the trilogy that began with Dragon Slippers is at least as good – my young friend who recommended them to me prefers the first book but I think this one might be better. Creel, in her late teens, is now an entrepreneur, running a dress shop in King’s Seat along with her best (human) friend and business partner, Marta. Marta is engaged to marry Tobin, former bodyguard to the younger prince, Luka; Creel is less secure in her relationship, but the reader can see that Luka himself is smitten with her, commoner or no. Because this is the Dragon Slipper series, trouble quickly arises: a distant country is poised to invade with an army of soldiers riding dragons. We know that dragons are not hostile by nature, so something funny (probably of the alchemical variety, as in book one) must be afoot.

One thing I love about Creel is her genuine devotion to her dragon friends. Her first friend, really, was a dragon, while she definitely has some good human ones. She is adamant in her defense of the misunderstood dragons, anxious both to protect their reputations and keep them safe. The humans also need dragons to keep them safe, and Creel is the liaison between the two groups.

I love the friendships among and between humans and dragons. I love Creel’s (and Marta’s) innovations and puzzling through problems, and their bravery. The romances are sweet, but what I love most about the pairings is that Creel and Marta are outright heroes while their respective beaus just follow along, supportive but a little bumbling, good-natured about their partners’ impressive accomplishments. (I considered sharing this observation with the 11-year-old who recommended these books to me, then realized I’d actually rather she live in a world where this was unremarkable.)

Charming, daring, whimsical, loveable, endearing. I’m in for book three.


Rating: 7 scales.

Dragon Slippers by Jessica Day George

My favorite 11-year-old saved this book especially to loan to me, and I was so excited to be given the assignment. And I quite enjoyed it! Rated for grades 5-6, Dragon Slippers has engaging action, humor, sweet friendships, a hint of romance, and snappy pacing. It’s also got some good messaging, which I approve of. It’s the first in a series and I thought I’d walk away after just one, but the surprise ending (and the sample chapters of book two!) got me.

In poverty and desperation, with a hint of a Hansel & Gretel dynamic, Creel’s aunt decides she should be abandoned to the rumored local dragon, in hopes that a noble knight will rescue her and uplift the whole family. (“Why should anyone be rewarded for defeating a dragon by being saddled with a dowryless, freckled wife and well over a dozen daft and impoverished in-laws?” Creel wonders, but nobody asked her.) This device gets Creel in the company of a dragon that no human has seen in generations, and she quickly learns that their hoards of gold and treasure are a false rumor – this one prefers shoes – and that they’re not terribly motivated to kill humans. She makes a friend, gains a beautiful pair of blue slippers that fit just right, and heads off to the city of King’s Seat hoping to make her own living rather than return to an aunt who tried to feed her to a dragon. Creel is a talented maker of what her late mother called fancywork: embroidery, weaving, and (if necessary) sewing. In the city, she is repeated called a country bumpkin. Events move quickly: she falls afoul of a visiting princess; meets a friendly prince (no relation); gets a job in a dressmaker’s shop; and finds herself embroiled in a few messes. One, working for a boss involves the kind of exploitation anyone in our present, real capitalist system will recognize. Two, her coworkers range from friend material to backstabber. Three, the prince’s attentions and the princess’s hostility somehow manage to entangle Creel in political intrigue and matters of state that also – surprise – turn out to involve her dragon friends.

(Following an early whiff of Hansel & Gretel, the slippers and the prince definitely recall Cinderella. Just echoes.)

I asked my favorite 11-year-old what she liked about the book, and she started with the initial meeting with the first dragon. (Dragons are one of her two favorite animals.) She also mentioned Creel: she likes her strength and her unwillingness to take any crap. She identifies with that. We talked about the friendships in the book, and the pacing. She said she wanted me to read it because she thought I would like Creel, and she was right.

If Creel’s interest in pretty gowns, sashes, and slippers is a bit prissy for me, she is on the other hand a highly practical feminist entrepreneur, with a dangerous habit of speaking her mind even to royalty, and a strong sense of her own powers. I love the urge to make her own way in the world. She’s brave. And she’s a good friend to a handful of dragons as well as humans, and might just turn out to be a hero. I appreciate the positive messaging, and the imaginative world of dragons. There were a few very minor plot holes that I think would likely be tolerated (or missed) by many adult readers, and certainly by younger ones. And as I said, I was hooked by a surprise finish. All in all, my young friend gave a good recommendation.


Rating: 7 collars.

The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik

Book two of the Scholomance series was every bit as thrilling and engaging as book one. I love our grumpy, standoffish teddy bear of a protagonist.

El had good character development in A Deadly Education; now she’s continuing to develop as a person, both because she’s a teenager (coming of age) and because she’s made friends for the first time in her life. She’s reluctant to believe in this, because she’s endured a lifetime of trauma at the hands of almost everyone she’s ever known. Her new friends and allies do have something to gain from working with her at graduation, now that her power as a wizard is becoming more widely known, so she’s not entirely wrong to consider that this may motivate their friendship; but the reader can see better than she can that their friendship is real, too. It’s poignant to see such a sweet but enormously curmudgeonly, damaged, dear kid struggle to accept that people might actually care about her.

The privileges of class and nationality at work here, the power structures that are most invisible to those in power, and the injustice of it all, are more overtly at the center of this book. I think there are some good magical parallels to our real world here that can be instructive but also entertaining and fit neatly into the fantastical wizard-y world of Novik’s imagination, which is prodigious, by the way; this is expert-level worldbuilding. Late in the book the focus begins to move beyond the Scholomance to consider the whole world, which is clearly where book three will take us; this one ends on another final-line cliffhanger (!), so I’ll be getting there fairly quickly.

Perhaps because they were both Liz recommendations, I am reminded of the Murderbot series here, which also featured an outsider first-person narrator who is actually a loveable marshmallow on the inside but puts forward a hard, aggressively antisocial exterior. Despite being mostly rejected by their respective societies, both are driven to right the big wrongs. I do love this set-up, and I love El for being a hard-nosed, sarcastic badass.

In this installment, I actually questioned the YA label. The series does star teenagers, and deal with coming-of-age problems (therefore YA). On the other hand, it also deals with some very dark themes, heavy enough that some readers move it out of the YA category; but after some consideration, I don’t think that’s necessarily a disqualifier. It’s definitely for older kids, not least because there’s some (non-graphic) sex in this one. Maybe the line between YA and adult is blurred; certainly it depends on the reader. There’s no question that these are books for adults (hi), but I think they’re also books for young adults who are up for serious thinking on dark subjects, and some really good writing. This is a step adultward from Hunger Games, which are however very fine books in their own right. Who’s to say what kids should read, anyway? My parents didn’t seem to me to monitor my reading much, and I definitely read some stuff beyond my comprehension at a young age, and all that seems to have done is whet my fire. As ever, your mileage may vary.


Rating: 8 glaciers.

Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo

Clap When You Land is a novel in verse, in two alternating perspectives. Camino lives in a village in the Dominican Republic with her Tía, who has raised her since her mother died some years ago. Her father lives in New York, and comes to stay each summer for several months. Camino loves her father, and feels loved in return; he supports her and her Tía better than they could afford to do on their own, with the small funds raised by Tía’s doctoring duties. She’s a healer and midwife, skilled with herbs and prayer, and Camino wants to follow in her footsteps, but take it a step further: her dream is to study medicine at Columbia University. Meanwhile, Yahaira lives in New York City with her parents. She’s a former chess champion, but she’s given it up, which has put a rift between her and her father. The two girls are just two months apart in age, approaching 17. They have the same father, but they don’t know it until after he is killed in a plane crash, traveling from his home with Yahaira to spend the summer in the DR, as he does every year.

In their alternating chapters, we see two teenaged girls wrestle, first, with their futures: Camino is concerned about where to go with her life if her father doesn’t help her get to the States. Her options in the DR are few, and there is a predatory young man after her. Yahaira is upset because she’s discovered that her father had a secret – although it’s not the big one she’s about to learn, that she has a sister. Each girl has a best friend: Camino’s is about to give birth, and Yahaira’s is also her partner. We see them both struck by the loss of a father that each loved and admired. And then we see them hit by another shock: they’ve lost a father, but each has gained a sister. What will they do with that knowledge?

I like the questions raised by the twinning of the two girls, what each might have been under different circumstances, what is conveyed by certain advantages. (Camino’s household is better off than most in her village, but still much poorer than Yahaira’s unremarkable middle-class home in Morningside Heights.) At its heart, this is a story about family love, grief, and forgiveness. It’s lovely told in simple verse: easy to read but also contemplatively paced, dealing as much with emotions as events. As a YA novel, I think it would be well suited to thinking about loss for young people, or for any of us.

Papi’s two families, and his keeping the girls in the dark about each other’s very existence, isn’t much dealt with: the character is dead before we meet him, so we only see him in their memories, and he never gets to justify his choices. That’s rather more complicated.

Another thread involves the crashed airplane, which is based on the real American Airlines flight 587. Both the fictional and the real flights left New York headed for the DR filled with Dominican-Americans; the Dominican community in New York was badly shaken by its loss, and that’s a large part of what inspired Acevedo to write this novel (as described in her Author’s Note). That community-wide impact is well described here, which I think is a service.

Sad, thought-provoking, but also a beautiful honoring of a community.


Rating: 7 bachata songs.