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    Review of the Day: The Trouble with Heroes by Kate Messner

    The Trouble with Heroes By Kate Messner Bloomsbury Children’s Books ISBN: 9781547616398 $17.99 Ages 9-12 On shelves now Jerks. They’re great. On the page, that is. If you’re an adult that reads loads of middle grade children’s novels on a regular basis then you might, like me, be a bit sick of the nice kids. Nice kids are the bread and butter of children’s literature. They’re good-hearted, relatable, kind, and deeply, deathly dull. They get picked on by bullies and stand up for their little sisters and generally blend together so well that you have a hard time remembering one book from another. Compare all that to Finn in The Trouble with Heroes. You know what he’s doing when we meet him? Kicking over the headstones of complete strangers in the cemetery. You know how he feels about that act? He doesn’t really feel anything at all, actually. Finn is a rage-filled young man prone to sarcasm, disdain, and a general sense of jaded ennui. He is, in short, the perfect antidote to all those perfect protagonists out there and one cannot help but think that right from the start young readers are going to be HERE for what this book is putting down. “If I were a better kid, this story would begin with my seventh-grade diploma. Instead it starts with this…” What follows is a news clipping with the headline, “Local Cemetery Vandalized”. We learn that a kid (our protagonist, as it happens) was caught kicking over a headstone at 4:00 p.m. on a Friday. And not just any headstone either. Turns out, Finn has had the misfortune (or is it fortune?) to kick and break the headstone of Edna Grace Thomas. Edna’s a bit of a local celebrity, having not only climbed all 46 of the Adirondack High Peaks but also provided correspondence and words of encouragement to fellow hikers for decades. So when Finn is brought before her daughter, he’s given an odd opportunity. To make reparations, Finn must climb all 46 of the same peaks that Edna did. This, from a kid who has been failing gym (to say nothing of his English class). Oh, and one more thing. He’s gotta wear Edna’s old hiking boots and bring along her drooly, farty dog, Seymour. Now Finn’s climbing, sweating, snarking, and yet also observing, baking, and writing poetry ostensibly for an English class where he’s supposed to focus on the topic of what makes a hero. With a father who saved lives in 9/11 then died during COVID, Finn’s relationship with the notion of heroism is shaky at best. What makes a hero? And why are they so much trouble? There are probably at least five good themes at work simultaneously in this book for kids, which is no easy task to maintain. Messner’s been in this game for a while, and in many ways this title is a culmination of all the hard work she’s put into the art of writing over the years. As such, the topics of grief, loving someone with addiction/PTSD issues, personal responsibility, developing a love of nature and the natural world – that’s ALL in here! Yet the theme that I particularly gravitated to the most was the central one: What makes a hero? Or, rather, when you’ve been labeled a hero, what price do you pay? This book could have been so easy for Messner. All she had to do was make Finn’s dead dad a saint, then spend the rest of the book having her protagonist struggle with what it means to be the son of a hero and what heroism means, and so on and so on, and SNORE! I’m sorry, but I’ve read that book. You have too. We don’t remember what those books’ names were either because that topic isn’t really all that interesting. You know what is interesting? A dead hero who shamed his son regularly for baking or wearing aprons or twirling for fun because it was “girly”. A guy who never spent time with his family because he was too busy helping other people. The complexity of this dead dad is a thing of beauty. It means that the reader, just like Finn, has to come around to figuring out how to think about the guy. Messner puts both Finn and the young readers through the same paces in trying to figure this guy out, and in the end it’s not like it’s a done deal. Finn comes to a place of peace but not entirely one of understanding. And that’s okay. I want to double back a bit to what I was saying at the beginning about Finn being a jerk. There’s a lot of talk, when it comes to writing books for kids, on how to make your character likable. You, as the author, need the reader to care and invest in them. A lot of writers do the thing where the wisecracking kid immediately experiences something deeply unfair. Or, failing that, they’ll show their good heart by some selfless action. There’s just gotta be something about them that makes you like them enough to stick with them. But what did Messner do with Finn? Frankly, I couldn’t remember, so I went back to the book to try and figure it out. Partly, it comes down to voice. Finn’s snarky, sarcastic, and done with the world around him, but he’s also legitimately funny. He also owns up to his vandalism right at the start, while also alluding pretty consistently to his trauma. It’s so strange that I didn’t remember how often he mentions being broken at the beginning of the book. It could come off as whiny, but somehow the combination of petulance, hurt, and humor make you, at the very least, want to see where this kid is going. Curiosity is a powerful factor in getting a young reader to turn that next page (heck, it works on adults too, I suppose). Did I tear up? I did tear up. I know enough of middle grade novels to know that if a character complains at length about something small and loving that is annoying them, be it younger sibling, younger cousin, or drooly dog, at some point in the proceedings that young or drooly companion is going to be placed in some kind of peril. In this case, Messner really turns the screws near the end of the book, and it doesn’t hurt that the audiobook narrator of this title cranks the acting up to 11 (more on him in a bit). So not only is this book tackling 9/11, the COVID-19 Pandemic, and a love of the outdoors and nature but it’s making you laugh and cry as well. And you’re not even annoyed with it when it succeeds. Doggone it. A quick word of advice: I don’t know how your kid prefers to read their books, but if they are at all into audiobooks then you can’t go wrong with the read performed by Mack Gordon. Gordon perfectly captures Finn’s snide take on the world around him. Yet when those moments come when our hero is overcome by emotion, Mack Gordon somehow has this ability to make his voice crack in sorrow. Just a little. Just enough to make you, the listener, break a bit as well. Of course, because I listened to this as an audiobook, I had no idea what this book looked like visually. I didn’t know it was a verse novel for one thing. Seriously! I had no clue! Also, the way it’s laid out on the page, it’s incredibly visually appealing. Messner breaks everything up with newspaper articles, advertisements, text messages, obituaries, poems, and “Choose Your Own Disaster” sections. What’s incredible is that Mack Gordon’s read never gives you a minute’s pause. That man can read Finn’s auto-reply of “I am not lost in the woods or being stalked by a panther or getting swatted by a bear,” a hundred times and you enjoy it each time he does. It’s a remarkable adaptation of a book that must have been a heckuva schlep to adapt. I suppose it’s a bit late in the review for me to realize that my earlier statements about the trouble with protagonists in children’s books is just a slight reworking of this book’s titular theme. The trouble with the hero in a book for kids is that they’re just so darn hard to write. All too often they fall into a prescribed type, and that type isn’t all that interesting because they’re so common. But in this book, Finn felt damaged in all the most interesting ways. And if you cut through the design of the book (which is infinitely kid-friendly and keeps the eye busy in a good way) the story at its heart is strong. How do you write a book with hope and heart and all that emotional stuff but still make it interesting to kids? The Trouble with Heroes is the answer. Homeric. On shelves now. Source: Galley sent from publisher for review. Notes on the Cover: It’s a strong cover. A fine cover. But it is a cover sadly lacking in sufficient drool. Seymour looks positively pristine here. Like they gave him a bath and then posed him for this shot. More mud. More drool. But very good smile. This is clearly a good boy. Interviews: Curious about the behind-the-scenes of this title? I did the cover reveal and a Q&A with Kate way back in September, so get a little additional info on where it came from.

    Annoyingly FABULOUS Picture Books of 2025 (So Far): Picture Books Are WAY Too Good This Year and I Am Taking It As a Personal At

    Was it too much to ask for 2025 to be a weak picture book year? Look, my book Pop! Goes the Nursery Rhyme, out as of March, is a book that has been doing really well straight out of the gate. I am delighted by its success and every time someone tells me that a kid gets a kick out of it, I grin like a fool. But it is not the only picture book out in 2025. Turns out that there are others. And there is a problem. They. Are. Jaw-Droppingly. Good. I feel like, this is an issue. My book should have come out in a weak picture book year. Instead, there are books out there in 2025 that are SO GOOD, I’m falling over myself to recommend them whenever I can. How fair is that? Was it too much to ask that this be a weak year for books around 32 pages in length? The straw that broke the camel’s back was reading Matthew Forsythe’s Aggie and the Ghost this past weekend. Folks, I just can’t take it anymore. 2025 is killing me. Don’t believe me? Here is a CONSERVATIVE list of picture books out in ’25 that are so good you can rub any one of them in the face of your friends who claim kids books “aren’t what they used to be” and watch their arguments crumble into dust. This ain’t a golden age of picture books anymore. We’ve gone platinum. Annoyingly FABULOUS Picture Books of 2025 (So Far)… Aggie and the Ghost by Matthew Forsythe “Aggie was very excited to live on her own, until she found out her house was haunted.” A girl and ghost odd couple tale. That’s it. THAT. IS. IT. I am sick and tired of the overwhelming AVALANCHE of incredible picture books in 2025. This is impossible and it’s going to make my final Best Book deliberations at the end of the year absolutely unimaginable. Just when you think you’ve seen all the amazing books of 2025, then you stumble on something like THIS. Friggin’ Matthew Forsythe (who, cruelest of the cruel, only ever illustrates his own picture books anymore, so I’ll never be able to even dream of getting him to do one of mine) has written a girl and ghost story that utterly destroys all other kid and ghost stories out there (by my count there are at least 4 others out this year alone). Again, his art just glows on the page. Again, he is some kind of literary genius, capable of fantastic storytelling, utilizing only the barest minimum of words. And again, he’s funny. Seriously funny. I can’t take it anymore. Stuff is just too good this year. A Book of Maps for You by Lourdes Heuer, ill. Maxwell Eaton III A series of maps introduces the reader to a small town, its people and places, and the new home that you are moving into. TWIST! I love me a picture book that can turn everything on its head when you get to the ending. I particularly love it when the ending has an emotional punch as well. On the outset, this just seems like a great book for those teachers that do map units with their students, since it doesn’t just cover just one kind of map, but several! There’s a maze and a pirate map and maps of streets as well as different rooms in various buildings. I could easily see a kid getting inspired by this book, making maps of their own home. But it’s that little twist at the end that makes it clear that for the person writing this book, this town was a special place. These were friends and important places. *sniff* Also, I don’t know why, but I keep focusing in my head on the advice to place your bed under the skylight so that you can see the stars at night. Aside from everything else that is SUCH a cool idea. Oh, and what a great idea to get Maxwell Eaton III to do the art. The man knows how to draw intricate maps while keeping a lot of humor and fun intact. Incredible pairing, Heuer and Eaton. Well done, oh editor that thought this up. Broken by X. Fang What happens when you make a mistake you cannot undo? Do you let an innocent cat take the fall or do you confess? A heartfelt and hilarious tale of guilt and unconditional love. Just another knock-out winner from Fang. The comic timing on her latest is amazing. I was reminded of a lot of other guilt-soaked picture book stories as I read this, like Penny and Her Marble. It kind of pairs well with The Playdate by Uje Brandelius, illustrated by Clara Dackenberg, and also out this year. In both cases you’ve a kid purposefully doing something wrong, only to be thoroughly distraught about it later. Still, the cat in this book is the true star of the show. Its stare is the picture book equivalent of the beating of the terrible heart in The Tell-Tale Heart. You’re gonna FEEL this one. City Summer, Country Summer by Kiese Laymon, ill. Alexis Franklin New York, meet Country. Sent to the country for the summer, a boy makes friends with the kids there after false starts and confusion. There’s a feeling you get when you read a picture book without thinking too much about it, only to discover that the writing is out-of-the-blue shockingly good. And it’s only heightened when you feel like you’ve gotten NO WARNING about that fact. We’ve loads of Kiese Laymon books in our adult section, but I’d admittedly not read one before. I might have to now. This story is suffused in nostalgia, but in a healthy, good way. It’s kid-friendly, yet also feels like it was plucked straight out of one of Laymon’s memoirs. And it feels REAL. Not like something that someone could just make up out of nowhere.  The art is wholly digital and for the most part it has a nice natural feel. This doesn’t feel like anything else out there to me. A true original. Don’t Trust Fish by Neil Sharpson, ill. Dan Santat The picture book of the year!! Oh sure, they may look innocent but those fishies in the sea? They’re up to something. An absolutely hilarious explanation of a hidden underwater threat told by an unreliable narrator. One of my favorites, no question. Sharpson’s Irish lilt works itself into the narrative in a variety of neat ways (example: “Birds are dead easy”). But what’s truly so unique about this book is the beautiful hand-in-hand collaboration between the words and images. Dan Santat is never better than when he has a text that he can play off of. In this book he doesn’t just play off of Sharpson’s wordplay. He embodies it. He’s adding all these small jokes in the details that reward multiple readings (the S.S. Minnow goes down at one point and there’s a running joke involving pancakes that I greatly appreciated). Also, have you ever wanted to see Santat illustrate an anglerfish? Your wish has been granted, my dears. Bonus: The readaloud potential of this book is incredible. The page turns! The jokes that land! The twist ending! Am I being clear enough how much I like this? Duckie & Snaps: We Cannot Be Friends by Ame Dyckman, ill. Tim Miller Duckie and Snaps’s eggs hatch right next to one another, convincing Duckie that they are bound to be friends. But can a croc and a duck really be buds when one of them is so delicious? MAN! What is it with the picture books these days? The funny ones are just KNOCKING it out of the park in 2025! I am always here for an Ame Dyckman book, but whatever godlike genius decided to pair her with Tim Miller ought to be making a six-figure salary or something. Tim’s wry, succinct linework is the perfect complement to Ame’s accomplished tomfoolery. First and foremost she’s a master at repetition (“Fried Duckie! Duckie Smoothie! Duckie Pie!”). The panelwork and the jokes are the kinds that adults will appreciate as much as the kids, particularly when it all comes together perfectly. I love a picture book that’s got a hilarious concept and that I’ve never really seen before. This is hitting on all cylinders. Every Monday Mabel by Jashar Awan Most people don’t love Mondays, but Mabel does. Why? Because something very special and exciting happens every Monday morning in this ode to garbage truck enthusiasts everywhere. Oh, I LOVE this. Seriously, I adore it. Man. I don’t think I’ve been giving Jashar Awan enough attention these last few years. This is a perfect encapsulation of what happens when someone finds that thing that they love and they then proceed to dedicate themselves to it heart, body, mind, and soul. The fact that Mabel’s family doesn’t understand her passion rings so very true, but does she care? She does not! She grabs that cereal, heads out the door, plants herself, and watches what she loves. And talk about a successful ending to the book! Five out of five stars, no notes.  Fireworks by Matthew Burgess, ill. Cátia Chien  On a hot summer day, two children pass their time splashing in water and munching on watermelons, waiting for the big event that night: an enormous burst of fireworks. Explosive poetry, vibrant art. Oh dang. You know, I was 85% convinced that this was a great book when I read the PDF. Then I went and read the physical copy and OH LORD! These images just explode (pardon the pun) off the page! Catia Chen has, at long last, found a text worthy of her skills. She does things with fluorescent pink that only heighten just how good this book is. And then there’s this gatefold… 100% it’s my favorite gatefold of 2025. I don’t want to speak out of turn, but this is Caldecott material right here, people. An incredible and incredibly BEAUTIFUL picture book. Just make sure you see a finished copy. The Interpreter by Olivia Abtahi, ill. Monica Arnaldo Can a kid have a job? Sure! Cecilia has two. There’s the job of being a kid and the job of interpreting for her parents. But what happens when one job overwhelms the other? Ye gods! What a fantastic book! Now you may not recognize it right off the bat, but that illustrator Monica Arnaldo is the same person who created Mr. S two years ago (a.k.a. The funniest picture book of its year). This book is funny too but with a remarkably serious core. The idea of a kid having an actual job (I was getting serious Bea and Mr. Jones vibes from the suits) as an interpreter to her parents is both funny and desperately serious. Author Olivia Abtahi’s tone is just absolutely on point. It has a really good message without blaming anyone. This is for all those kids overwhelmed by the adult duties they’re obligated to take on. Island Storm by Brian Floca, ill. Sydney Smith “Now take my hand and we’ll go see the sea before the storm.” Two children venture forth as terrifying clouds creep ever closer. Will they make it home safe in time?  Lest you forget, Brian Floca knows how to write a picture book, people. It feels like a bit of a flex that he’s so good at it that he can get someone like Sydney Smith to illustrate one of his own as well. Consider this almost the emotional opposite of Downpour by Yuko Ohnari. Where in that book the rain is comforting, here it’s a distinct threat. As a reader, you’re torn between wanting the characters to soldier on, and a desperate need for them to get back home to warmth and safety. Smith is at his finest when the storm truly does arrive, this terrifying black mass enveloping the sky, plunging the world into wet darkness. I also got a hint of Where the Wild Things Are at the end with the warmth and the comfort mom can provide. I read a lot of picture books that fade in the memory over time. I don’t think that this book is in any danger of that. Mistaco! A Tale of Tragedy y Tortillas by Eliza Kinkz What do you do with a bad day, chock full of mistakes? Eat it! Everyone makes mistakes and sometimes there’s a tasty solution to them.  If you know me then you know that I’m a huge fan of the art of Eliza Kinkz. Turns out, she’s just as funny a writer as she is an illustrator. This sort of takes the old Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day motif and gives it an eclectic spin. The whole concept of “eat your mistakes” is kind of fascinating from a psychological point of view too. I’d argue that it’s different from “eating your feelings” (which I fear is a thing that may be lobbed against this book). Funny from page one onward, it’s also nice to see adults in the wrong and pouting. Our Lake by Angie Kang Two brothers go to a lake on a hot summer’s day. The water’s far down? Not a problem. Just jump! A deeply touching story about memory, love, and taking a leap. See, this is why I like picture books as much as I do. They always have the capacity to surprise you. Looking at this cover, I’ll confess to you that my hopes weren’t particularly high. We see a lot of sweet, touching, meaningful picture books in a given year, and whole swaths of them leave me cold. The fact that this book began as a poem inspired by a Milton Avery painting titled “Quarry Brothers” is cool, but it was no guarantee of quality. And then I got to that image of the older brother under the water. He jumps off the ledge and Angie Kang just… does something with the paints. I can’t even describe it. The way she is capable of somehow drawing what bodies look like underwater… it’s incredible. I was hooked… and then we got to the heart of the book. The fact that this jump was something the boys’ dad used to do and now their dad is gone? And just as I’m dealing with that (emotionally) we get this shot of the younger brother leaping and there’s this image of what looks the dad reaching for him and . . . I’m a puddle. I’m a mess. This has “award winner” written all over it. Be warned, be wary, and enjoy it. Pop! Goes the Nursery Rhyme by Betsy Bird, ill. Andrea Tsurumi Curiously, I don’t mind how good this particular book is. Most mysterious. Testimonials about it from teachers and librarians say that kids really get into it. If you’ve not seen it, the entire premise is that the sneaky weasel from the titular nursery rhyme has started to POP up in other nursery rhymes as well. Add in the incredible art of Andrea Tsurumi (ever seen a buff gym rat of a Little Miss Muffet, downing her whey for its body-building abilities?) and you’ve got yourself a fun little title. My co-worker Brian Wilson has been doing it in storytimes, and he has some advice: If you choose to read this to kids, save it to last. There is a real danger of kids yelling “POP! Goes the Weasel!” during all your other books if you don’t. And that’s it. I could only do the smallest sampling of what I’ve been floored by in 2025, but what a strong sampling it is. So tell me what I missed? What do you think is the absolute bee’s knees in picture bookdom this year?

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