Today’s two new LGBTQ-inclusive middle-grade novels are each very different, but both have themes of challenging injustice: In one, a group of students creatively fight a book ban at their school; in the other, a nonbinary and a disabled protagonist duo have a sword-swinging fantasy adventure to save their realm.
Not Another Banned Book
Not Another Banned Book, by Dana Allison Levy (Delacorte), is a powerful yet wryly funny book about a group of middle-school students seeking to stop a book ban in their community.
Molly Claremont can’t wait for middle school to end. Its only saving grace is Ms. Lewiston’s Book Club, or LBC, where Molly and her friends Mik (who is gay), Kait, Alex, Alice, Theo, and Jax (who has two dads), are the “core book nerds.” Some readers will recognize several of these characters (including Molly) from author Dana Allison Levy’s previous books, although Not Another Banned Book can easily be read as a standalone title.
Ms. Lewiston is not only a lover of books, but also someone who genuinely cares about the students’ well-being. Molly herself has spent most of the past two years fending for herself while her parents focused on her ill brother, who then died. While things are slowly getting better at home, Molly has clearly leaned on Ms. Lewiston for support, even while struggling with a sense of hyper-responsibility.
The book club, too, is a safe space for discussing challenging topics like racism, as we see the students doing. One day, however, the principal comes in to talk with Ms. Lewiston, who shuts down the meeting early. We soon learn that someone in the community has claimed Ms. Lewiston is giving the students inappropriate books. She is suspended and the LBC is disbanded.
Molly wants to save the club, which has been so important for her and her peers. She rallies her friends to try and do something. But what?
Levy is a skilled enough author to make this more than just a story of good kids fighting evil book banners. The story is as much about Molly’s journey through grief and healing as it is about book banning—and Molly makes mistakes in (and learns from) her interactions with others along the way. We see how the kids’ intersectional identities impact their responses to the bans and to each other; how even the well-meaning aren’t perfect; how the kids are also just trying to get through school and sports and other daily activities and shouldn’t be required to take on this burden; and how we should never assume what someone has going on in their life. Even Ms. Lewiston has her flaws.
At the same time, Levy pointedly and eloquently shows just how damaging book bans are to kids of varied identities, who are using the stories to understand both themselves and the world around them. And the initiative that the kids create to bring attention to the bans feels realistic—so much so that I wonder if readers will bring it to life in their communities, in the same way that No Name-Calling Week, initially seen in James Howe’s novel The Misfits, has become a real-world observance.
As in her previous works, Levy blends a thoughtful take on challenging issues with compelling characters and a hefty dose of humor, making for a read as entertaining as it is important. She also weaves in information about many actual books that have been banned, making Not Another Banned Book a great candidate for book club discussion itself, and a launching point for further reading of banned books that are important windows and mirrors for many readers. Highly recommended.
Splinter & Ash
Splinter & Ash, by Marieke Nijkamp (Greenwillow), is a sword-swinging fantasy adventure with a nonbinary squire and a disabled princess at the fore.
Twelve-year-old Princess Adelisa, or “Ash,” as she prefers, is the youngest daughter of the Queen of Calinor. She’s returning to the capital of Kestrel’s Haven after six years away at school, only to find her mother struggling to assert her power over the fractious nobles and hoping to root out traitors in their midst. The nobles, including Ash’s brother, Crown Prince Lucen, are also quick to dismiss Ash as weak and out of touch with the realities at court. Much of their scorn is aimed at her disability (she uses a cane and arm braces), the result of both an accident and a condition that makes her joints dislocate easily. (This seems like a reference to something like Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, although it is never identified as such in the world of the book.)
Splinter is the child of a noble family who wants to be a squire like her older brother, who is off defending Calinor’s borders. She’s been told she can’t, however, because she’s not a boy—but she knows she’s not a girl, either (although she uses she/her pronouns). After Splinter impresses Ash with her bravery during a chance encounter, the princess offers to sponsor Splinter as her own squire. This means training with the all-boys group of squires, but Splinter is determined, even if Prince Lucen and the others bully her. Lucen’s actions, however, ultimately get Splinter kicked out of the squires—on the same day that Ash is kidnapped by people who are likely in league with Calinor’s northern enemies.
Splinter and Lucen set out after Ash, although Ash is no helpless damsel in distress, but holds her own against her captors. (I’ll say no more for fear of spoilers.) Revelations and betrayals large and small impact each young person, and each character must reassess themselves, their families, and their friends as they attempt to save the realm.
The bias against both Splinter and Ash is only one thread of the story, which also looks thoughtfully at what really makes a family, what it means to be strong and loyal, and how people can change and grow. And the noble conspiracy that the queen fears stems from nobles who want to go back to the “good old days” of “tradition and power over progress and equality.” One might call it an attempt to Make Calinor Great Again, which feels highly relevant as I write this review in the summer of 2024.
While the above themes add substance and depth to the tale, though, they don’t take away from the crafty intrigue, sword swinging, and daring escapes that simply make it a great adventure story, too. This book is the first of a planned trilogy, and I can’t wait for the next two volumes. There’s more to learn about the characters and their societies, and a few small clues (like the existence of lemons, which must have come from a warmer clime than Kestrel’s Haven), hint at an even larger world than we’ve seen so far.
Inevitable comparisons will be made between this series and the Sir Callie series by Esme Symes-Smith, another medieval-ish fantasy adventure with a nonbinary protagonist. They’re each very different stories, however, set in different worlds, with different plots, and with characters of different personalities. There’s no reason not to have both on your shelves in the same way you’d have the works of J. R. R. Tolkien and G. R. R. Martin. If readers enjoy one series, they will likely enjoy the other, though, simply because they do fall into the same broad genre. I highly recommend both, and see it as a sign of progress, not redundancy, to have two thoughtful and thrilling fantasy series with nonbinary protagonists, which will hopefully point towards even more to come.