New LGBTQ-inclusive kids’ books out today include three middle-grade books full of adventure, an introduction to pronouns, a gender-neutral story of two friends, and stories dealing gently but firmly with tough topics of consent and abuse.
Rabbit Chase, by Elizabeth LaPensée and KC Oster (Annick Press), is a middle-grade graphic novel retelling of Alice in Wonderland through the eyes of Aimée, a non-binary Anishinaabe middle-schooler. This might seem like an odd cultural mix, but it works. LaPensée, an Anishinaabe, Métis, and Irish writer, has woven both European and Anishinaabe tales together to create something that honors both and yet feels wholly original. Ojibwe-Anishinaabe illustrator Oster’s images feel contemporary, but with muted palettes that evoke the natural world through which Aimée moves. Lovely and recommended. Full review.
Swan Lake: Quest for the Kingdoms, by Rey Terciero and Megan Kearney (HarperAlley), is a lively middle-grade graphic novel retelling of the classic Swan Lake story. Odette and Dillie are princesses of opposing kingdoms that have been maintaining an uneasy peace. Odette was cursed as a child to transform into a swan by day and back to a human at night. She and Dillie form an unlikely friendship and must band together with the gentle prince of a third kingdom to break the curse and save all their realms. Hand-holding and other subtle clues indicate Dillie and Odette are becoming more than just friends, and the ending hints at a sequel. Full review.
Witchlings, Claribel A. Ortega (Scholastic). Young witches being sorted? A town in our world, but full of magic? Three friends on a quest to fight an evil monster? A protagonist who is a person of color? Queer inclusion? If you want all of the above, this book is for you. As Ortega has said in a statement, “Witchlings is a middle-grade series where every reader is welcome. It is for anyone who has felt they didn’t quite fit in, and who needs a bit of magic and friendship to learn to finally believe that they are wonderful, just as they are.” I did a full review of it a few weeks ago because I liked it so much, but it’s officially out today.
The Pronoun Book, by Chris Ayala-Kronos, illustrated by Melita Tirado (Clarion), is a bright board book that poses one question: “How do you know what someone wants to be called?” The answer? “Ask.” The book then offers one spread for each of several pronouns, each filled with diverse people who use that pronoun. The final two spreads show the people joyously gathering for a picnic as we read, “All together … us.” The people on the final spreads are also wearing buttons declaring their pronouns, many of which are neopronouns (co, ey, per, xe, ze, xe). Full review (including suggestions for some books about pronouns and gender to read after this one).
Alex and Alex, by Ziggy Hanaor and illustrated by Ben Javens (Cicada Books), is the tale of two friends who, despite having the same name, enjoy different things. Neither Alex is gendered in this story, and each does things traditionally associated with both girls and boys, making it a good starting point for discussion of gender expression, gendered play (or breaking the boundaries thereof), and friendships across gender. Full review.
Hattie Hates Hugs, by Sarah Hovorka and illustrated by Heather Brockman Lee (Beaming Books) is a sweet book with an important message about consent. It opens with the titular Hattie on her way to a family reunion. She would be excited about seeing her favorite relatives—except that she knows they will all try to hug her, and Hattie hates hugs. With the aid of her Great Grandma, who also hates hugs, Hattie learns that “It’s okay to tell people you don’t want to be touched,” and gets the chance to do just that. One pair of relatives is a two-dad couple. While the LGBTQ content in this book is slight, I am including it here because I’ve had parents ask me for books about consent, and I like this book’s simple and straightforward message. Full review.
You Ruined It: A Book About Boundaries, by Anastasia Higginbotham (Dottir Press), tackles an even more difficult subject, but one that some children unfortunately face with few tools to help them: sexual assault by a family member. Higginbotham does not depict the violence, and addresses the subject “in the gentlest way I could imagine doing,” she tells readers in a letter at the beginning. Also, she is clear, “In this story, it stops. The abuse is not excused or allowed to continue.” I wish that books like this weren’t necessary—but since they sometimes are, we should be grateful that You Ruined It gives us a sensitive, thoughtful route to discussion, offering no easy answers but perhaps some healing. Full review.