2022 Gift Guide: YA Books for Ages 12+
December 1, 2022 § Leave a comment

We’ve come to the end of this year’s Gift Guide, which means today is all about the teens! Now, before we begin, I must remind you that, if you have a young teen, you’ll also find some great recs in my Middle-Grade Round Up from last month. And if you have a teen of any age, be sure to check out Coven and Victory. Stand!, which I covered in the Graphic Novels Round Up.
There are some fantastic books here, and I hope I’ve found something for every teen on your list, even and especially the finicky ones who think they no longer love reading. There’s no better time to re-engage teens with reading for pleasure than a holiday break, especially if we park our own phones and model the fun ourselves. So, start a fire, make some hot chocolate, and invite your teen to curl up alongside you with their own book, plucked from this list.
The books below are roughly presented from younger to older, but I’ve also grouped them according to genre, like romance, thriller, and historical fiction. And I end with two picks that hold as much appeal for adults as for older teens (seriously, do not miss them!). Because I know it matters to some, I’ve included mentions of mature content, including where any of the romance moves beyond kissing.
As always, links support my work at Old Town Books, and I really, really appreciate you using them (if you’re local, remember you can always select “pick up at store” at check out!). MANY THANKS and happy reading!
« Read the rest of this entry »When A Book Comes Along for the Field Trip
January 20, 2022 § 2 Comments
There was no shortage of grumbling when, one morning over winter break, I announced we were going to Arlington National Cemetery, a ten minute drive from our house.
“But we’ve been there a million times,” my son complained.
“You’ve been there exactly once,” I responded. “Plus, my great-grandfather was a Colonel in World War One, and he’s buried there.”
“We know, because you tell us all the time,” my daughter interjected, not to be outdone by her brother.
“Well, we’ve had a Covid Christmas and we need somewhere to go that’s outside, so that’s that,” I issued, like the authoritarian parent I am.
In my 14-year parenting tenure, there has never been an outing I haven’t been able to improve with a children’s book. In this case, I’d had one tucked away for almost a year. I knew the kids would come around. They always come around.
Jeff Gottesfeld’s Twenty-One Steps: Guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, majestically illustrated by Matt Tavares (don’t count him out for a Caldecott), takes us behind the scenes of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier—indisputably the most fascinating part of Arlington Cemetery. No one can help but be awestruck upon beholding the discipline, concentration, and precision of the sentinel guards who keep vigil there, every moment of every day, 365 days a year, in every type of weather.
Especially if you’ve had the chance to read Twenty-One Steps immediately before.
Which our family had, while seated in front of my great-grandparents’ gravestone, under a brilliantly blue December sky, surrounded by thousands of wreaths placed there for the holidays. We read while we waited for the top of the hour, when we headed over to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to watch the changing of the guard.
« Read the rest of this entry »When They Want the Truth
September 5, 2019 § 2 Comments
When I was eight, I led my father into our coat closet, pushed aside the coats to make a small opening, closed the door, and sat him opposite me on the floor. As we both hunched uncomfortably, I handed him a piece of torn notebook paper and a pencil. On the paper was a list of every swear word I had ever heard. “I want you to write down what each of these words mean,” I said. “Please,” I added, so as not to sound bossy.
I’ll never forget the way my dad didn’t miss a beat. As if this was a natural ask from a firstborn. He didn’t speak, just wrote down a word or two beside each of mine. When he was finished, he handed me the list, and that was that. We stood up, opened the door, and went our separate ways.
In the safety of my bedroom, I got up the nerve to look at what my father had written. It may have been the most anticlimactic moment of my life to date. Female dog. Human feces. I’m sure there were others, but I can’t remember the complete list. I stared in disbelief. I wasn’t entirely sure what all of them meant (what the heck was feces?), but I did know they didn’t sound particularly harmful, certainly not worth the drama which ensued each time someone used one of them at school.
In that moment, I also knew I wasn’t getting the whole truth. I thought the answer was in my father’s pencil strokes, but what I failed to realize was that I actually craved a conversation with him. I wanted to understand what was so terrible about these words. I wanted to understand why they were used the way they were. Looking back, I even wish he had explained some of the gender politics behind them. But I didn’t know how to make any of that happen.
In an effort to demystify these words for me, my father stood in the way of my more fully understanding the world I was sharing with him. « Read the rest of this entry »