Edna Lewis was born in 1916, in Freetown, Virginia, a community founded by her grandfather and two other emancipated slaves. “The people of Freetown were farmers,” says Robbin Gourley in her afterword to the book, “and they lived by the seasons, growing and harvesting their own crops, gathering nature’s wild bounty.” This vibrant
fictionalized account of the childhood of Edna Lewis—chef and
pioneering proponent of the fresh and local food movement—follows the seasons through food and song, from the first strawberries of spring to the last pecans and walnuts of fall.

“But I have never tasted meat,/nor cabbage, corn, or beans,/nor milk or tea that’s half as sweet/as that first mess of greens,” sings Edna, amidst watercolor dandelion greens so vibrant they could be plucked right off the page. An informative author’s note and five kid-friendly recipes accompany this timely ode to food, family, and the seasons. For ages 5–8. —H.S.

Pulitzer Prize–winner Jane Smiley (A Thousand Acres) has written a quiet novel about a 12-year-old growing up in the 1960s on a farm in California, where her family trains horses. With so many other books revolving around fast pacing and plot twists, Smiley lets this book unfold in a way that calls
attention to the simple joy of reading. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that nothing happens in this book, it’s just that Smiley uses her talent to unveil and layer her story in a way that when you close the book and lean back, you find yourself somehow calmed and eased into all that she has offered. You trust the author, the tale, the characters, and read because you want to read, at your own pace, quietly curious about what will happen next. I mention this because this quiet pacing, based on curiosity, is also the best way to train a horse, so that the moves the horse makes are slightly directed by the rider, but are also based on the horse’s own interest, curiosity, and joy. If I was trained in the reading of this novel, I am glad of it, and am amazed at the quiet calmness that has settled in since. For ages 10 and up. —S.M.C.

Marcelo Sandoval, 17, is comfortable with his job caring for the ponies at Patterson, the expensive special education school he’s attended since first grade, comfortable with conversations with his mother’s friend, a down-to-earth woman rabbi, with whom he explores his obsession with religious writing and philosophy, comfortable living apart from (but close to) his family in what is essentially a luxury treehouse. Arturo, his father and a high-powered lawyer, wants Marcelo to move beyond his comfort zone into the “real world” by working a summer job in the mail room of his corporate law office. Marcelo, he promises, could then decide, himself, where to attend his senior year—a mainstream high school (which Arturo wants), or Patterson. Marcelo reluctantly agrees. Maneuvering his careful way around unfamiliar places,
beginning an important relationship with his boss—a
competent and beautiful young woman—questioning the ethics of his father’s most important client (and understanding that this will have financial and emotional fallout), Marcelo proves himself to be capable of enormous insight and growth. And essential goodness. It is a very great pleasure to have met Marcelo. For ages 13 and up. —G.L.

It’s summer 1889 and hot in Fentress, Texas. Eleven-year-old Calpurnia—intensely interested in the natural world—“tries to carve a place for herself as a scientist amidst very
different expectations for her future. Calpurnia’s perseverance and confidence gained working side-by-side with her grandfather are evidence that she’s more than capable of meeting her goals. Kelly, without anachronism, has created a memorable, warm, spirited young woman who’s refreshingly ahead of her time.” —Horn Book. For ages 10 and up.

In this nearly wordless adaptation of the classic fable, Caldecott Award-winning illustrator Jerry Pinkney visually tells the story of the lion, who unexpectedly releases a captured mouse, and the mouse, who just as surprisingly returns the favor by freeing the lion from a hunter’s trap. Although this is an incredibly “human” story of kindness and reciprocation, Pinkney is careful not to anthropomorphize, producing characters that are at once wonderfully expressive and entirely believable. His choice of setting—the African Serengeti—gives the narrative depth and relevance. Pinkney renders the moral of this story with subtlety and grace, and the result is arguably one of the most breathtakingly illustrated books of the year. Each spread is a delight to the eye and the imagination. For ages 3–8. —H.S.

In the amazing The Hunger Games, readers learn that each year in Panem, the dystopian nation that rises up where the United States used to be, the Capitol holds a televised tournament in which two teen “tributes” from each of the surrounding districts are pitted against each other in a fight to the death. But this year, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the tributes from
impoverished District Twelve, thwart the Gamemakers, and both make it out of the arena alive. Catching Fire picks up where The Hunger Games left off, only this time it quickly becomes clear that the dangers Katniss and Peeta faced in the arena have not been left behind with their victory, for it seems that Katniss has become a symbol for rebels trying to
overthrow the Capitol. As it becomes clear to sinister President Snow that Katniss and Peeta’s subversive victory is what’s fueling a spreading rebellion and rumors of a secret district, he does the unthinkable in an attempt to stop the reach of their influence. A sequel that—dare I say it?—is better than the original, Catching Fire harnesses the growing power of its narrator as she steps into her status as the symbol of the revolution. Ages 13 and up. —R.M.

Lucky is back in this sequel to Patron’s Newbery Award-winning, Higher Power of Lucky (now in paperback), along with all the charming, eccentric inhabitants of Hard Pan, California. This new escapade is as sweet, funny, and profound as the first. We’re lucky. For ages 9–11.

Scanlon’s text has the perfect simplicity of a Margaret Wise Brown book. “Rock, stone, pebble, sand/Body, shoulder, arm, hand/A moat to dig, a shell to keep/All the world is wide and deep.” Marla Frazee’s illustrations remind us of Robert McCloskey’s timeless sense of place. The book—a celebration of the natural world and humankind—is both old fashioned and contemporary. The clothing is sun faded and salt washed, the vehicles are old and rounded like those in Virginia Lee Burton’s books. The town’s residents are diverse: The very young and old interact; we see interracial and same-sex couples at the farmers’ market, beach, and café, in the garden, gathered together in front of a fire with family and friends at the end of an idyllic day. All the World evokes, with wonder and joy, the beauty of a small West Coast
seaside town. For ages 2–6. —G.L.