We’ll have our — well, my — reactions after the jump here in this blog post. We’re covering the teen section of the YMAs, and will be including reactions (and, let’s be honest) a lot of gushing. Comments will be open for conversation, reactions, and debriefing. As always, let’s remember Karyn’s reminder from the picks/predictions post the other day — RealCommittee does the hard work every year. We’re here to respect their work and the process they’ve gone through. Our choice and our thoughts are the result of our own process, which mimics RealCommittee rules and process, but is not actually the same.

This has been a long blogging season this time around, so let’s get to work!

So sorry, had some technical difficulties. Think I’m tuning in here for Stonewall. Hang on while I catch up.

Oooh! 57 Bus!

[edit to say, congrats to Little & Lion for winning!]

OK. CSK now. Yay!

Long Way Down with an author honor! What will this mean for the winner? And Angie Thomas with an honor? I can’t wait! And Rene Watson with the gold! What a group of stories! !!!!!!!!! (my emotions)

All right. Here are the YALSA awards section. Alex Awards up first. I love getting these recommendations every year. Thanks, Alex Committee!

MAE up next. With a mild spoiler from YALSA Prez! Suspense! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Yes! OH, Angela Johnson! I am just without coherence. Love her writing!!!!! Thank you, thank you Jonathan Hunt and committee, well done.

Morris now: I can’t even predict. What will it beeeee?

The Hate U Give!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, yes. Wonderful! Love the love for this book.

ENYA

This is another tight race. And Vincent and Theo takes it. Whew! Thanks, ENYA Committee for your hard work!

Oh, here we are! Printz Time.

Four honors. OK (audience sounds relieved). LWD!!!!! YAY, Jason Reynolds! And Strange the Dreamer! The Hate U Give!!! What a year for Angie Thomas! Vincent and Theo, too! Again!

OK, here it is!! We Are OK. Joy! Again! You are MAGIC! Your heart picks are magic!

Now it’s ALSC’s turn, and Odyssey is up. The Hate U Give takes the winner title, with Long Way Down getting an honor. Thank you for your hard work, committee!

Pura Belpre up now. Lucky Broken Girl with the win. Honors for First Rule of Punk and The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora! Wooo-hoo!

Arburthnot Award: oh, such huge congratulations to Dr Debbie Reese. What a speech this will be!

Batchelder: The Murderer’s Ape gets the gold here.

Jacqueline Woodson gets the lifetime achievement award here! The Wilder Committee got some big applause there! So much love, such good work!

Newbery with an honor for Jason Reynolds! And another big medal for Rene Watson! With Crown taking the third honor spot. With Hello, Universe taking the medal! Oh, I did love that one. (I know this isn’t quite the focus of the blog, but with two teen(ish) books up there, I did squeal aloud!

So! What do you all think? Let’s chat in the comments.

Now that you’ve had a few hours to digest the news that this is our last time doing picks and predictions, and you’ve also had some time to consider your own thoughts for each category, let’s do this thing!

We’ll start with the definitions: Picks are the personal choices. It’s the slate of books you can support as contenders — but more than that, it’s the slate of your heart, the books that both exemplify excellence AND resonate for you. The books you want everyone to read. The ones whose inclusion in the official list would maybe bring tears to your eyes. Then there are predictions: Books you think WILL win, even if you personally would never choose them.

(Please note that this is not in any way like the RealCommittee process. They discuss and vote, vote and discuss; it’s about heads and consensus. But we’re in the speculation business.)

Jump below the fold for details and a quick breakdown of how we’ve done with predictions in the past.

Before we say anything else, we want to acknowledge that the members of the RealCommittee have been working their tails off for over a year. Their choice may not agree with our choices. We may harbor bitter resentment as a result. Next week, we might have some things to say (Like “YAY” or “why” or “what the hell happened to book X?”) — but they still made the right choice. And we can’t wait to find out what it is!

Now, a quick look back at how good, really, is our crystal ball?

Well, individually, we do okay, with Joy slightly more accurate than Sarah and Karyn: last year she pegged three of the five official winners! (Sarah had 2 on her list; Karyn had 1 prediction and 1 pick — Scythe — that went the distance to my surprise and delight.)  For the 2016 award, we whiffed on the honor books but all predicted Bone Gap; in 2015 we didn’t agree much but all averaged 2/5 of the winners; and in 2015, Joy and I both called for Midwinterblood, one of us with more enthusiasm than the other.

Collectively, on the other hand, we are BRILLIANT:

In 2017 although the Pyrite was wrong about the winner, three of our five top books were in the winners circle; in 2016 and 2015 the Pyrite accurately predicted the RealPrintz winner!

So can we do it again, one last time? Let’s try! Sarah, Joy, and Karyn will share Picks and Predictions in the comments, and we hope you all will do the same.

We interrupt our usual year-end post schedule with some breaking news: This will be the last season for the Someday My Printz Will Come blog.

While we are incredibly sad about this, it’s not a permanent goodbye. The SLJ folks have assured us of their continuing commitment to YA award coverage, and we like talking books to much to ever really stop. So while we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, we’re sure good things will come.

We’ll have more, and more sentimental, thoughts after these last few days of the season — but for now, we need to write up our annual pick and predictions post, so get started thinking about yours, and tomorrow we will all speculate wildly once again! And since this is IT, let’s really make the conversation sizzle.

XOXO,

Karyn and Sarah and Joy

It’s official! We have done it! We named our winner last week, and now we’ve got our honor books. Votes came in, spreadsheets were made, and many other things happened — and it was all done in the passive voice, I guess.

But who can think about grammar, really, when we have a completely fictional award to give out!? Once again, you’ll have to imagine me with Bachelor-ish roses, and an intense close up on my face — and I guess all the authors’ faces, because OF COURSE they would join a reality TV version of the Pyrite, right? — with striking music playing to really heighten the tension. Click through for our slate!

So, as usual, things are quite interesting in the data-strewn background of the Pyrite. Things start out pretty clear-cut: Long Way Down got 56 total points, and also received the majority of the first place votes. The chart below gives you an idea of the first point vote distribution (click to enlarge):

But here is where things get interesting, and in order to show you, I’m going to give you a graph with the point spread overall. Check it out:

This means that Thick as Thieves, with 23 points total, would be the next title on the slate. (Thick as Thieves also got the second-most second place votes — because LWD got a slight majority there, too). The chart below gives you an idea of what the second place votes look like:

So things get a little more interesting (read: “clumped together”) after that.

Strange the Dreamer came in with 19 points total, while 57 Bus is just behind with 18 points. Landscape with Invisible Hand has 15 points, and this is where RealCommittee would cut everything off.

We could do that, too — simply keep it to our top four titles. That’s simple, neat, and does the job. But if you look at the points, In Other Lands and Midnight at the Electric each have 14 points, which is soveryclose to Landscape. Maybe too close? And really, with such a wide margin between LWD and Thick as Thieves, I’m almost inclined to cut it off at one honor book.

That would give our Pyrite slate two titles, and would look like this: The Hate U Give (winner) and Long Way Down (honor).

Impressive, no?

Of course, this is a committee, and not just MY decision. What do you all think? Feel free to take a look at the actual spreadsheet and speak your mind in the comments!

Far From the Tree, Robin Benway
HarperTeen, October 2017
Reviewed from ARC; 2 stars

The thing that makes me an ideal reader for Far From the Tree is also the thing that makes me the toughest critic: I’m a transracial adoptee, adopted from Korea into a white family. I’ve always been surprised by the dearth of books with adopted protagonists in young adult literature. Teen Librarian Toolbox had a great guest post recently about adoption in children’s and YA lit, but while Eric Smith felt seen by Robin Benway and Far From the Tree, I felt like I was looking at neither mirror nor window.

Benway begins and ends the novel with Grace’s story, whose identity as a teen mother takes precedence in both moments. To me, this read as a weird blend of outsider perspective and adoptee wish-fulfillment. Seeing a birth-mother’s thought process (and how much she loves her unborn baby) gives adoptees an idealized origin story. Likewise, at the end of the novel we find out how Grace, Maya, and Joaquin’s biological mother, Melissa, loved them so much but just couldn’t take care of them. She is, however, conveniently (for the plot) dead and Joaquin’s biological father has been deported. Thus leaving the trio without having to grapple with the difficult question of what does family mean when there’s a biological connection but none of the shared experiences? For a novel that tries to represent so many aspects of the adoptee experience, the unique way that Grace, Maya, and Joaquin come to know each other in the end, feels generic because too many of their experiences need to be reduced to the simplest possibly version of that story. There’s no room in this book for any one of these stories to have the kinds of complications that would make the characters feel real and less like types. Ultimately, this is a book that uses adoption to tell a story about family, but it is not a book about adoption or the adoptee experience (or rather, it’s not exploring adoption in a way that I’d describe as meaningful to me; however, many other adoptees have had significant emotional experiences with this novel so take my opinion as an individual’s opinion, speaking only for myself).

Of course, Printz criteria extends beyond whether or not a book is accurate in its subject matter (and my opinion is an individual reader’s opinion). Ultimately, I found the book’s major strength to be in its dialogue; certain moments when characters articulate feelings about being adopted that ring true to the experience but also to the way teens speak. —Joy Piedmont

Turtles All the Way Down, John Green
Dutton, October 2017
Reviewed from final e-copy; 3 stars

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Or, to recap our recent Mock Printz event: This is simultaneously really magnificent and easily dismissed.

On the magnificent side: The evocation of anxiety and OCD is astounding. This is clearly a deeply personal story, and it’s something so hard to capture for others — but Green, through Aza, makes the reader understand and empathize, while also being able to empathize with Aza’a mom, and Daisy — people who are exhausted by Aza’s struggle, even as they support her almost without limits. People have described this as “claustrophobic” and “terrifying” and “unpleasantly familiar” — all referencing how painfully and realistically evoked Aza’s struggle is. And the way it plays out with Davis is especially painful, as you see how Aza’s ability to be in the world is so deeply affected and diminished by her inability to have the life she wants.

On the easily dismissed side of things: the plot is laughable; the mystery feels phoned in, the stakes are low. One mock committee member pointed out that this reflects Aza’s experience, in that she also makes no effort at anything outside herself, and maybe the lameduck plot is because she is just along for the ride; it’s only ever meant to be background noise. But there’s too much — the lizard, the money, the weird art scene, the relentless affected quirk that is Daisy (who was very divisive, and detested by many in our group, although I kind of liked her — but I didn’t fully believe her) — for the reader to ignore the plot.

Final mock consensus: the good bits are excellent, so this deserved to be part of our event and deserves to be in the RealCommittee’s discussion. And it 100% is our top Schneider pick. The less good bits, however, are weak enough that we didn’t see this going the distance for Printz. –Karyn Silverman

They Both Die at the End, Adam Silvera
HarperTeen, September 2017
Reviewed from ARC; 4 stars

Adam Silvera’s main strength has always been voice. In They Both Die at the End, the narrative alternates between Mateo and Rufus, our titular characters slated for death. Silvera also gives us glimpses into the lives of other tertiary characters a la The Sun is Also a Star, making these moments impactful and meaningful to a book about the value in human connection and empathy.

If we believe this world in which people receive a phone call to alert them of their impending demise within 24-hours (and one flaw in this book is that the mechanism behind this service is utterly mysterious, leaving readers feeling like something is missing), we can also believe the thought processes that lead Mateo and Rufus to find each other through an app for people who want a friend for their last day on earth. Their bond is organic and develops quickly out of necessity but it feels earned. However, I’m doubtful that the RealCommittee will find the merits of theme outweigh the characterization and relationship between Mateo and Rufus, which a romance-inclined reader like me can get behind easily, but I’m curious how it plays to another person. For me, this book should have left me in a puddle of tears but I didn’t feel as emotionally invested as I thought I’d be. Perhaps it’s because this is the year of grief, I’m just all cried out? It may point to an emotional distance that could due to the high concept. However, we’ve had some supporters for this book in our Pyrite so chime in and let me know what I missed! —Joy Piedmont

We’ve already covered The Hate U Give (the most likely to overlap this year!) and Saints + Misfits, so today we have the remaining three titles from the Morris shortlist: Starfish, Devils Within, and Dear Martin. None of these were on our reading list prior to the shortlist announcement, because our other, very general marker is three or more stars — and these three all have under 3 stars. As we’ve said before, stars aren’t really a predictor for Printz — it’s just one of the ways we we whittle the list of all YA books down to a reasonable pile. As usual, we’ll be running through the books alphabetically. Ready? Click through for the fun!

Starfish, by Akemi Dawn Bowman
Simon Pulse, September 2017
Reviewed from final eBook; 2 stars

Starfish has two starred reviews, the highest out of our slate this week — from PW and Booklist. Bowman includes a whole host of issues within the narrative — biracial identity, social anxiety, childhood abuse, toxic family dynamics — and it’s to her credit that it never feels crowded or overwhelming. (Not to say that these ideas are handled perfectly; more on this later.) The straightforward plot is part of what keeps this simple, effectively told story centered. Bowman writes in short chapters that are gulp-able; even when the story gets very dark, it remains compulsively readable. The ending is light and full of hope, which is important in a novel that is dealing with such intrinsically dark material. Each chapter ends with a description of Kiko’s art, which is absolutely my favorite part of the read: evocative, haunting, and powerful. The descriptions tie in to the novel’s themes, and usually to the action of the chapter that has just finished. While I will always love a book that incorporates pictures, I suspect almost liked these nearly poetic elements more than any actual pictures.

There are elements that will take this out of Printz contention. The romance Kiko has with Jamie is sweet but also the mechanism by which she makes it out of her abusive situation, which is, at the very least, problematic messaging. This relationship detracts from the effort and growth and voice-finding that is really the center of Kiko’s story. Not helping matters: Jamie’s characterization is a bit weak and one-note. It makes the romance seem like the fuel that “rescues” Kiko, rather than the emotional, internal work that Kiko has to do. Other supporting characters, particularly Kiko’s mom, are similarly thin. In an effort to help us readers understand just how cruel mom is, we never get any hints of nuance or subtle undercurrents to her characterization.

The Morris pool is much smaller, and we will see what happens for Starfish in that smaller arena. It’s up against some stiff competition — I saw a lot of strengths in Saints and Misfits and of course The Hate U Give. For our focus, I don’t see this getting a Printz medal at the YMAs.

Devils Within, by S.F. Henson
Sky Pony Press, October 2017
Reviewed from an eBook; one starred review

Like the rest of the Morris slate, this is a novel that speaks very clearly to now. It has moments of real suspense, and is certainly a read that will stick with readers after the fact. Nate’s history leaves him with a searing case of PTSD and flashbacks. These scenes were some of Henson’s most effective writing — the past moments actually push in to the present day and overtake Nate’s vision. Her writing where Nate struggles to quell his anger and balance his feelings, are also very effective. Henson’s treatment of mental health issues is extremely strong and very respectful. The tension that grows as members of The Fort find Nate is effective in the moment of reading, as well.

As for the rest? I believe this is a well intentioned book, and perhaps you have another perspective to share in the comments, but I think that some of the flaws add up to a very problematic read.

This is a book that works to interrogate whiteness. It tries really hard. Nate’s history, however, allows him to be a sort of “perfect victim” — which means that all of the work Henson is doing to critique white supremacy is weakened. This may be informed by the thinness of characterization that plagues the novel as a whole. Nate himself, but also Dell — who is locked down and not at all forthcoming, mostly for plot reasons, to keep Nate feeling isolated. Nate’s father, known only as him, is menacing, horrifying, and otherwise nondescript. Bev is tough but obscure…which, well, um. Brandon is a nice guy, but super one-note and exists to bring Nate to new understandings, to help Nate grow as a person, and to be targeted by the Neo Nazis once they track Nate down.

So what we have is a book that is critiquing and interrogating whiteness, but also using characters of color to help the white protagonist grow and change. My issues could also stem from the decision to use first person narration. This allows for up-close unpacking of racial bias — which feels unprecedented in YA — but the narration is also extremely didactic. Coupled with the thin characterization, the MESSAGE is important, but the artistic elements ultimately do not support the work the novel is trying to do.

I could go on — of course I have more feeeeelings. Instead, I’ll just say, I don’t see as a Printz contender. And now I’ll turn it over to you all — am I missing the mark?

Dear Martin, by Nic Stone
Crown, October 2017
Reviewed from final ebook; 1 star

With one star, it’s no surprise this was initially far from our radar. It’s a timely, topical book — one that will suffer from comparison to other books this year that cover similar topics, better. And one of those other books (The Hate U Give, which also tackles race, class, and code-switching) is also a debut, which means Dear Martin doesn’t even get my prediction for the Morris win.

That said, there are plenty of moments that work, and for a younger YA (like, 7th grade, maybe even up to 9th), the (exposition-heavy) awakening Manny and Justyce experience is exactly on level, so if you think of this for that age group, some of the flaws are mitigated. Plus there are emotional beats that effectively draw tears throughout, and a ripped from the headlines twist that makes those headlines feel immediate, effectively giving human face to an all-too-common kind of story. Important ideas are grappled with (racism and power, media bias, the stories told about us rather than the stories we tell, interracial romance, class, police brutality, and the power of passing).

But it’s didactic, and more than that, it’s hard to believe that this all happens NOW — Justyce has been around the school for well over a year, he grew up black in a poor neighborhood getting the talk about how to respond to police — so how has he never been angered by the casual racism of his classmates? How have he and Manny never talked about any of this? The timeline is artificially compressed so that everything important can happen in the pages of this slim novel, which diminishes the genuine emotional arc. And that teacher, opening up cans of worms and then just sitting back ineffectually while all hell broke loose? Nuh-uh. It’s another construction to get across a point, but it makes what should be an interesting character — an educated, successful black adult who occupies the kind of spaces Justyce wants to immerse himself in — into a plot device.

Ultimately, this is young and more window than mirror — making it a book designed to educate rather than reflect. That’s a book that has an important place in our collections — there’s so little at the upper elementary/middle school/junior high level tackling issues of race and class with clarity, and this is a book that lays it our clearly and distinctly — but it’s not a book that tends to fare well for literary awards, although it will be loved by teens for displaying the complex, ugly world we live in and still holding out hope that by being their own best selves they can move forward.

So there’s our take on Morris + Printz. We’d love to hear your thoughts.

The Language of Thorns: Midnight Tales and Dangerous Magic, Leigh Bardugo, illustrated by Sara Kipin
Imprint (Macmillan), September 2017
3 stars; reviewed by Meredith Burton

Fairy tales were always intended to reveal life’s cruelties and wonders.  The truest fairy tales contain bitter darkness seasoned with light: the light of sacrifice and empowerment.  The Language of Thorns is a collection of fairy tales in the truest sense.  Predators hide in plain sight, and those who are considered weak prove to be strong.  Not every story ends happily, but the protagonists make momentous decisions as they poise on the precarious brink between adolescence and adulthood.

Bardugo’s characters are not conventional fairy tale types.  In “Ayama and the Thorn Wood,” the heroic character is not the beautiful sister but the girl that no one regards.  In “Little Knife,” the traditional theme of a suitor completing three tasks to win a beautiful bride is criticized through the inclusion of two female characters who appear submissive but are more than they seem.  The theme of molestation is explored in “The Witch of Duva,” a story with echoes of “Hansel and Gretel.”  The stepmother may not be the real monster.

Bardugo uses fairy tale motifs to introduce characters who find their voices through adversity.  Ayama’s honest storytelling helps her appease an imprisoned beast.  Nadya uses her skills as a baker to unmask the true villain in her village.  A mermaid’s song reshapes a kingdom.  A nutcracker breaks free from the role he was intended to play.  These characters discover ways to shape their own destinies.

The Language of Thorns exhibits a wide array of settings: an undersea flower garden created through song, a winter forest with luscious scents, and an urban setting with clockwork wonders.  Bardugo paints evocative word pictures that are immersive and unique.  “That night she swam to the wreck of the Djenaller, a ship brought low only months before, a warning to the men of the land to keep from their waters.  She pulled scraps of cloth and pearl from the skeletons in its cabins, and over those ragged leavings she sang a song of making.  She barely knew what mortal gowns should look like, but she drew seed pearl and lost silk together and made three dresses that pleased her.” (“When Water Sang Fire”).

I am a blind individual and cannot comment on the anthology’s illustrations, but I have been told that they unfurl along the borders of each page, culminating in double spreads at the end of the stories.  Sara Kipin’s illustrations add depth to Bardugo’s words.

In The Language of Thorns, fairy tales are gutted and refashioned into gems of truth.  Bardugo defies genre conventions and gives us a detailed world with characters who refuse to be defined by their traditional roles.  This anthology should not be overlooked.

Meredith Leigh Burton is a motivational speaker, middle school English teacher, aspiring author, and voracious devourer of fairy tales.  She volunteers at Lanum Public Library in Tullahoma, Tennessee.  Her favorite activity is reading to young children in schools and educating them about Braille. 

An Uninterrupted View of the Sky, Melanie Crowder
Philomel, June 2017
3 stars; reviewed by Anne Bennett

When Francisco’s father is arrested for a seemingly innocent action of carrying a can of gasoline to feed into his taxi, everything in the family is thrown into tumult. At that time in Bolivia, the poorest country in South America, politicians tried to appease the United States and our war on drugs by arresting anyone suspected of anything related to drugs using law #1008. People in the lower classes, who could not afford a lawyer, would languish in over-crowded prisons without so much as a court case or any hope of ever getting out. If the family had no other form of support, they would be forced to move into the prison, as well. Francisco and his younger sister are forced to do just that. The title, The Uninterrupted View of the Sky, suggests that wrongful imprisonment keeps the family from enjoying the simplest of freedoms—a view of the sky.

Suddenly Francisco must grow up fast. If Francisco is ever going to help his family he must go to university and study law. In the meantime, he must also get his sister to safety with his father’s family upcountry. Poetry becomes a tool for expressing feelings and communicating across cultural and generational divides.

I became aware of Melanie Crowder after reading her astonishingly good book, Audacity, about the Triangle Shirt Waist fire and the rights of workers in the clothing industry in this country in the early part of the twentieth century. That book was written in verse. The Uninterrupted View of the Sky, though not written in verse, does include a lot of poetry which is really well done and advances the story and the understanding. Crowder said she wrote this book in response to a personal situation. In the 1990s she spent some time in Bolivia and she first-hand the corrupt justice system and the forced imprisonment of people too poor to pay for legal help, all done to satisfy the US war on drugs and Law 1008.

This YA book has heart. It is a demanding and jarring story presently gently, with a touch of poetry, so the reader doesn’t end up feeling clubbed over the head with the information.

If this book has a chance at the Printz table it will be because of its poetry. Crowder uses her gift with poetry well in this historical/multicultural novel. Her writing is just gorgeous. It is very easy to get caught up in the beauty of her words even though they are describing horrifying life conditions. If the book is left out of the Printz discussion it may be because the lack of full character development of all but the main protagonist, Francisco, who does show growth and depth of understanding throughout the book. All other characters remain a bit flat or static. But that said, I love the book so much, I do hope it is given Printz consideration or at least an invitation to the table.

Anne Bennett is a recently retired high school librarian. She hosted a Mock Printz workshop at her school for several years and recently participated as a Round 1 Judge for High School/Junior High Nonfiction for the Cybils Award. She blogs at https://headfullofbooks.blogspot.com.

The Inexplicable Logic of My Life, Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Clarion, March 2017
3 stars; reviewed by Kate Browne

The Inexplicable Logic of My Life isn’t particularly flashy or high-concept; I can’t describe it in a one-sentence “this was the one where __________.”  And it’s too long, probably. Then again, so are those last years of high school, when you can’t start your adult life soon enough, but you feel like you’re running out of time to figure out the origin story you’re going to tell for the next decade.

For me, the delineation of characters was exceptional: I loved each of Sal, Sam, and Fito, and I understood who they were. Sal, in particular, navigates a heartwrenching inversion of the classic “my REAL parents would understand me” trope, fearing instead that his genetic history will overwhelm his loving father’s care at any time.  We also see Sal’s father, Vicente, fleshed out as a human being with desires and feelings, not just A Dad, but always also a dad.

The plot sometimes feels like it rests on coincidence: there’s always a spare room available, literally or metaphorically, when someone needs a place to go. I’d argue, though, that sometimes that’s how loving families and communities are. A light is always on for you somewhere.

Sáenz is a poet as well as a novelist, which I felt in the book’s voice. Is Sal a poetic enough kid to be narrating this book? (I’d argue yes, obviously.) On voice, on theme, on style, on characters: if I were coming to discuss this book, I’d have a sticky note on the “Cemetery” chapter on p. 420. I’d be ready to read the increasingly frantic, grief-stricken sentences that begin “I still see…”, to end on “I wasn’t an adult. I wasn’t a man. But I wasn’t a boy anymore.”

But I’d also want to throw in the beginning of the next chapter, as the stately, purposeful grief of the funeral passes and the emotional comedown begins: “After the funeral, there was a reception. Lots of people. People, people, people. If I heard one more very nice person say, This is your son, Vicente? God, he’s handsome, I was going to fucking scream.”

The 2013 ALA awards committees lauded Benjamin Alire Sáenz for his fourth young adult novel, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, which was recognized by the Printz, Stonewall, and Pura Belpré committees as well as the Lambda Literary Awards. It would be (wait for it) inexplicable if the RealCommittee weren’t giving this one a close read.

Kate Browne, better known at Someday as Kate B., is the Youth Services Librarian at the University of Northern Iowa. She can be found on Twitter at @brownekr.

We’ve done some of the hard work, in voting for and naming our winner. And what a winner — can you imagine getting to call Angie Thomas and say, “we loved your book and are giving you an award”?! I mean, we are not actually giving an award, let’s be clear. We are a mock committee. But what a great year to be reading YA, huh? As was noted, there are so many directions RealCommittee could go; the YMAs are going to be pretty exciting.

But! Our own Pyrite process  is not over yet! As I said earlier, we have more roses to give out — more tough decisions to make. There are more medals (roses? I’m feeling that Bachelorish metaphor this year, even though it’s really mixing things up, and we’ve tended to medal/sci fic jokes in the past) to award. We’re giving out up to four more spots, to be precise.

So! People! We will need to choose four more books before our work is done!

From RealCommittee’s bible, the P&P:

Honor Books All nominated titles are eligible for honor book consideration. Following the selection of a winner, a straw vote is conducted. Any title receiving no votes is removed from consideration. A formal, weighted ballot will follow. Based on the results of this ballot, the committee will decide if it wishes to name honor books and, if so, how many.

We will be streamlining and simplifying the process for our virtual, ad-hoc purposes, so there will be no straw vote.

Instead, we’ll go straight to the comments for our honor votes. As always, they’ll be weighted votes — so be sure to number them from 1-4 (with points allocated at 7/5/3/1). You are allowed four titles, but don’t have to fill each spot. Spots can’t be skipped, however, so if you only vote for three titles, they’ll be weighted 7/5/3.

For the RealPrintz, any officially nominated book is eligible, with the exception of the winner; in our case, that means anything that’s been written up this season other than The Hate U Give (because it won, yay!); plus the remaining books we’ll be posting about between now and ALA.*

*Planned for the week ahead in some cases in very brief form: The Language of Thorns, Dear Martin, Turtles All the Way Down, An Uninterrupted View of the Sky, They Both Die at the End, Far from the Tree, Devil Within, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life, and possibly The Librarian of Auschwitz, Too Shattered for Mending, and Starfish, plus anything else we squeeze in.

Last week, we opened the polls for one of our favorite things to do around here: vote for the Pyrite Winner! (Get it? Pyrite? Like not-quite-gold? Because while we read, discuss, and overall mimic RealCommittee’s work, we aren’t RealCommittee? So our medal is sort of an imitation gold sticker? That is in no way a sticker?) And now, a week later, we have a winner!

And, with great relief, I want to tell you that it went differently from last year; we have a clear-cut, easy to call winner (last year we had to go through…how many rounds of voting because things were so close? Two rounds? There was a lot of voting last year, is what I’m saying.)

But we made it through, and after the jump, we’ll get to, you know, THE TITLE THAT WON, and all the delicious numbers and charts and behind-the-scenes breakdown that (some of us) live for.

*drum roll drum roll/intense close up on me as I prepare to hand out our Pyrite Rose.* 

Our 2018 Pyrite winner is The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas!!

This debut title was our clear winner with the most first place votes — 48 points in total. Want to see what that looks like? (If you want to drink in the details, click to embiggen!)

Long Way Down came in as a strong second; it actually garnered more votes, but fewer first place votes, and its total stands at 40. Check it out, below:

We had a lot of other titles with love, but those two were the clear cut leaders. For a sense of the field overall, here’s yet another lovely graph. Again, feel free to click on the chart to get the details. I’m curious what this will mean for our honor vote — once we get Long Way Down on the slate, the other three spots could go to anyone! Surely you don’t think one wrenching decision is all we’ll ask of you? We have more roses to hand out, people! More roses!

What do you think of our vote? Comments are open, below. And of course, you can keep this Pyrite process going with an honor vote; we’ll get that vote rolling in the next day or so, so you have a little time to really examine these results and think about how to strategically vote for up to four honor books.

The Pyrite is a mock Printz, done in good fun and with an eye towards shadowing, in some small way, the kind of reading and discussion the RealCommittee participates in. We are not affiliated with the actual Printz, although we think it rocks, which is why we do this. The RealPrintz is formally YALSA‘s Michael L. Printz Award for Excellence in Young Adult Literature and is sponsored annually by Booklist.

Monday, we got a graphic novel round up. And earlier this year, we had a nonfiction roundup. Now that we’ve reached the end of the year — and seen the Excellence for NF shortlist, and taken a look at all the year-end lists — we’ve got a second round up, taking a look at all the nonfiction titles we’ve been saving. We’ll go through each title alphabetically.

Eyes of the World: Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, and the Invention of Modern Photojournalism by Marc Aronson and Marina Budhos
Henry Holt, March 2017
Reviewed from a digital copy; 3 stars

To be totally honest, I kept putting this off because it was easiest to get in digital format, which limited me to reading on my phone. (I don’t generally mind reading on my phone, but when you start incorporating visual elements, I start to want a paper copy). So I started and restarted (and renewed and rechecked out) a lot. HOWEVER, this was silly of me!

This is history the way I like to read it: big and complicated and also small and nuanced. Aronson and Budhos have crafted something that is part biography, part war history, part journalism history; it’s also about the history of technology and about how we are changed by technology. The writing team is dedicated to tying the historical moments to current day events, showing how everything, really, is interrelated. There’s a lot of backmatter to provide context, there’s even a section on visual literacy and the reading of photographs.

And we should probably talk about those photographs, too. They’re carefully chosen (though not best shown off in the digital format). They’re chaotic, captivating, and worth spending time with. They’re a huge part of the story — just as important as the writing. (Really, someone who wasn’t reading this on a phone, usually on a dim, night-friendly setting should weigh in here to talk about them!). Aronson and Budhos take care to talk about how to read a photograph, how framing and context shape our experience, all of which allows us to better read the carefully chosen images, which ultimately adds weight and context to the text.

So what could keep it from getting a Printz medal? The frequent choice to use present tense provides immediacy, but may be off-putting, especially because sometimes they do switch to past tense. But really, that’s all I’ve got because the writing overall is clear, accessible, and interesting. Buoyed by the pictures, and by the large scope, this is quite a read.

In the realm of nonfiction, Vincent and Theo has a lot of big time buzz going for it, but I wonder if EotW is picking up steam now? It’s popped up on a ton of year-end lists and of course is a finalist for Excellence in Nonfiction. This is history both large and small, and it’s a powerhouse of a book. I think this is a contender; it’s ambitious, it’s complicated, it’s thoughtful.

Alexander Hamilton, Revolutionary by Martha Brockenbrough
Macmillan, September 2017
Reviewed from an ARC; 1 stars

This was the most traditional nonfiction title I (Sarah) read for this post. It’s a meaty, fairly lengthy biography giving your HamFans another source to read. It’s got many images (well, I read an ARC, but it left spaces for a lot of pictures), graphics, offset quotes, and other visual elements to compliment a robust text. Brockenbrough dug deep, using primary and secondary sources wisely and well to tell this story. There’s also quite a bit of backmatter that includes detailed source notes, timelines, a quick guide to “allies and enemies,” and a lot of mini-essays to add context to the work overall.

All of this works quite well as a book; it’s readable and interesting, and engaging, and the readability increases throughout the course of the text. This will be a book you can hand sell in your library, but I’m not convinced it will be getting any medals come ALA. The uneven writing could hold it back, as well as its overall staid-ness. There are more flashy, more risky — and ultimately more solid — contenders out and about this year.

#NotYourPrincess: Voices of Native American Women edited by Lisa Charleyboy and Mary Beth Leatherdale
Annick Press, October 2017
Reviewed from a final copy; 2 stars

Here’s my other top pick from my nonfiction reading pile. This is an anthology from the same team who put together Dreaming in Indian. It’s a similar format, thoughtfully pairing art with text; the focus here is on nonfiction essay writing, poetry, interviews, and brief biographies/pieces of memoir. The flow of the book allows Charleyboy and Leatherdale to include a wide variety of ages, perspectives, and experiences, covering four major themes: commonalities; injustice; rejection of stereotype; thoughts and hopes for the future. This structure also allows readers to take a reading journey that ends in strength and love, which is important and powerful.

There’s a relatively small page count, which allows the reader freedom to breathe with and between the inclusions. The book feels like a scrapbook you’ve just happened to pick up, vibrating with intensity, emotion, and immediacy. Adding to a scrapbook impression is the strong pairings between art and text, and the many different perspectives included. This is a read to be savored. Some of the entries are even hand-lettered; every page feels personal and powerful. I think this is a book that grows and strengthens on re-read.

But we’ve talked before about the difficulties anthologies can face; this text is no different. Being a cohesive whole is easy for a singly-told story (well, relatively, I’d imagine). Pulling differing formats, elements, and pieces into something that approaches cohesiveness is tricky, and the differing tones and voices can work against an anthology. Adding to the consideration is that some of the pieces are very brief — there are paragraphs and tweets included.

I’d be ready to argue hard for this at the table, but the Printz game, as always, depends on consensus. It may be hard for enough committee members to agree enough about this book to net a Printzly medal. But #NotYourPrincess is already a finalist for Excellence in Nonfiction, so I’m very interested to see how it will do. I hope it takes the gold there!

Undefeated: Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indian School Football Team by Steve Sheinkin
Roaring Brook, January 2017
Reviewed from digital ARC, 4 stars

Steve Sheinkin books always seem to turn up as major awards contenders every year. Yet, the buzz around this one built and then fizzled. Four stars is nothing to sneeze at and I would never count Sheinkin out completely but his book about Jim Thorpe, Pop Warner, and American football has some problematic elements that have likely hurt its chances for the Printz. I encourage you to read Beverly Slapin’s review of the book over at American Indians in Children’s Literature; she discusses in depth this book’s issues of representation.

Personally, when I read Undefeated I didn’t catch any of those things. I found the book to be an engaging history of the Carlisle Indian Industrial School (which I knew nothing about) and the development of American football (which I watch occasionally). Unlike Sheinkin’s other works, there was a spark missing for me though. He is at his best when writing about high-pressure, complicated situations. A master of tension and pacing, Sheinkin’s main skills are not necessarily on display here. The work is proficient, but it never grabbed me the way his other books have.

The pace here is slower and our focus is split between various subjects. Although Jim Thorpe is the titular protagonist, the book is as much about football itself as it is about him, which is fine but what’s missing is the single element to unify the themes and stories of the work. For Sheinkin, this is usually some dramatic goal or obstacle. Without one here, the book always feels like it’s missing something.   —Joy Piedmont

The 57 Bus: A True Story of Two Teenagers and the Crime that Changed Their Lives by Dashka Slater
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, October 2017
Reviewed from ARC, 3 stars

Sasha, a white agender teen, was asleep on the 57 bus in Oakland when they were set on fire. Richard, a black teen hanging out with his friends, flicked the lighter that started the fire. Five years ago the lives of these two teens crashed into each other, creating a story that sits at the intersection race, gender, class, education, and criminal justice. It’s a lot for one book but Slater’s short chapters touch on everything with just enough depth to make a reader sit with two conflicting ideas–for example, Sasha’s attacker should be punished; Richard shouldn’t be tried as an adult–and give them equal weight.

The story is harrowing from start to finish. Structurally, it’s wise to give both teens’ backstory prior to describing the fire and aftermath. Slater’s writing has that magazine quality: punchy and just dipping a toe into overdramatic. The biggest misstep though is in the inclusion of poetry and the occasional shift in perspective. Did she write the poetry? It’s not attributed to anyone else so I’m assuming it’s her. I’m very upfront in saying that I’m not the best reader for poetry but it felt particularly out of place and emotionally manipulative in this book. Likewise, the inclusion of text threads between Sasha’s friends is interesting and shows the trauma their friends went through after the fire, but it’s embroidery that ultimately doesn’t serve character development for our protagonists nor thematic development.

The place where The 57 Bus shines is theme. If I had to choose a single major theme it would be that systems are rigid and unforgiving, especially for teens like Sasha and Richard. Slater outlines the edges of this idea in various ways but there’s no specific way in which it all comes together as a cohesive vision. That could hurt its Printz chances but I think it’s Nonfiction Award chances are still strong. —Joy Piedmont

And thus concludes this installment of nonfiction roundup. Any thoughts? Counterarguments? Other considerations?  We are all ears in the comments. And remember, you still have a little time to vote in the Pyrite!