Minnie Miranda's single mother—an Argentine-American with no close family—labors tirelessly to support her and her two younger sisters.  Mamá is always working overtime at her menial jobs, leaving Minnie in charge.  When she is in their drafty basement apartment, Mamá is exhausted and cranky.  Despite all her hours at work, the fridge is never full, Minnie's sisters have few toys, and all of them make do with embarrassing castoff clothing.  Although the 12-year-old knows she should be grateful just to have a roof over her head, Minnie's tired of being poor, frustrated with all of her grown-up responsibilities, and especially weary of her mother's constant warnings to never let outsiders into their lives.  Mamá insists they don't need anyone's help with anything.  Minnie's not so sure.

Despite the endless hours she works, Mamá always comes home in the evenings to say goodnight to her girls.  When she fails to appear one night, Minnie hopes Mamá has just been unable to get away.  With no word from her, however, Minnie begins to fear the worst: she's been detained by ICE.  Knowing she can't confide in anyone—not even a surprising new school friend—she carries on as best she knows how, trying to keep her sisters calm, fed, and entertained.  Nothing seems to go her away, although somehow, the girls seem to be getting a bit of help from the Peques, the Argentine fairies Minnie's younger sisters still believe in.

Even the Peques can't help with Minnie's upcoming audition for Peter Pan.  Minnie knows a penniless Latinx girl has no real hope of playing Wendy, but she's desperate to try for the part.  Mamá knows how important the audition is to Minnie and promised to be there.  Is she really going to miss it?  If she could be there, Minnie knows she would be.  What has happened to Mamá?  She can't conceal her family's situation for much longer, but her mother has always insisted strangers can't be trusted.  What is Minnie to do? 

Let's be honest here, the cover of On These Magic Shores by Argentine-American Yamile Saied Méndez is...not great.  Thank goodness it came to my attention because of The Whitney Awards.  Had I seen the book in a library or bookstore, I never would have picked it up.  And that would have been a shame because there's a lot to like about this #OwnVoices middle grade novel.  It touches on a lot of tough issues—racism, poverty, fear of deportation, children with too much responsibility, etc.—in a way that is eye-opening but also approachable.  As Minnie struggles, she learns the value of friendship, forgiveness, asking for help when you need it, and being grateful for what you have even if it's not a lot.  Some of the lessons are more subtle than others, but they're all there.  Although the plot of On These Magic Shores isn't always logical, the transitions between scenes not always smooth, and the prose a little rough in places, overall the story is engaging and compelling with enough going on to keep me turning pages.  The magical realism isn't my favorite element of this novel, but it worked well enough.  Character-wise, Minnie and her sisters are sympathetic heroines.  Minnie's prickly personality makes her difficult to like, especially when she acts like a victim-y brat.  She does grow and change because of her struggles, but she's still a bit hard to take.  Others act inconsistently (Maverick, for instance), but they're still a likable lot overall.  There are enough issues with On These Magic Shores that I didn't end up loving it.  However, it is an eye-opening, empowering, empathy-inducing story.  I liked it overall.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Land of the Cranes by Aida Salazar and Efrén Divided by Ernesto Cisneros)

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), rude humor/innuendo, and depictions of underage drinking

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Nestled on the floor of a canyon at the place where Sulphur Creek and the Fremont River meet sits tiny, remote Junction, Utah.  It's 1888 and seven families affiliated with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) live in the small community, which has become an in-between place for in-between Saints.  

Raised in a polygamist family, Junction resident Deborah Tyler wants nothing to do with the practice.  More devout members of the faith may question hers, but Deborah's happy with her two decades of marriage to kind, hardworking Samuel, even if their union has not produced the children they long to have.  Still, Deborah has much to keep her busy—household chores, her glove-making business, and finding ways to fill the long hours she spends alone while Samuel is working in southern Utah and Arizona as a traveling wheelwright. 

One night while Deborah is worrying about Samuel, who's been gone much longer than expected, a stranger shows up at her door seeking refuge.  Helping a polygamist on the run from the law—which is what this man obviously is—could get her in big trouble.  Still, her bleeding heart gets the best of her.  When a U.S. marshal comes along soon after, Deborah finds herself in deeper trouble than she could have ever imagined.  With Samuel away, she has only his stepbrother, Nels Anderson, to help her.  And he's just as guilty as she ... 

As the two try to figure out how to get themselves out of the very hot water they're now in, Deborah must wage a fierce internal battle between right and wrong, justice and safety, and hope and despair.

The Glovemaker, a new historical novel by Ann Weisgarber, tells a tense, compelling tale that kept me turning pages to find out what was going to happen next.  The setting is unique, the historical details intriguing, and the characters sympathetic.  Deborah and Nels are both realistically flawed, making them relatable in their authenticity.  While Weisgarber in no way romanticizes plural marriage, her portrayal of the practice among early Church members is surprisingly sensitive, even empathetic, which makes the story even more absorbing.  Overall, The Glovemaker is engrossing, interesting, and hopeful.  I enjoyed it.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for brief, mild language (no F-bombs) and violence

To the FTC, with love:  I received an e-ARC of The Glovemaker from the generous folks at Skyhorse Publishing via those at Edelweiss.  Thank you!

There's so much to love about this novel that I don't even know where to start.  Olivia is a likable, sympathetic heroine who's quirky and kind.  Although she seems a little immature for a 12-year-old, she's very capable but also realistically anxious about her family's precarious situation.  The story takes place in Provo, Utah, a quaint college town in which I lived for six years.  You May Already Be a Winner shows a different side of the familiar city, which surprised me and made me love this tale even more.  If you enjoy poignant but entertaining middle grade fiction, be sure to pick this one up.  You won't be disappointed.

(Readalikes:  I'm so bad at this lately.  A bunch of titles should probably be coming to mind, but I'm drawing a blank.  Suggestions?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for brief, mild language (no F-bombs) and violence

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of You May Already Be a Winner from the generous folks at Penguin.  Thank you!

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Wonder by R.J. Palacio and Rain Reign by Ann M. Martin)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

(Readalikes:  Hm, nothing is coming to mind.  You?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for intense situations and themes (grief, loss, bullying, etc.)

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

From a young age, Emily Wing felt different from the kids around her.  Her emotions seemed out-of-whack, making her feel alternately aggressive, angry, anxious, lonely, and sad.  Impulsive behavior and frequent dizziness also plagued the little girl.  Starting therapy at six helped a little.  Mostly, though, she found solace only in writing stories.  "Words never let me down," she recalls.  "With words, I never let myself down" (62).  A near-fatal accident at 12 led to a discovery that went a long way toward explaining Emily's feelings of otherness—doctors found a tumor the size of a grapefruit growing at the base of her skull.  This "miracle" find changed the life of pre-teen Emily, who was determined to overcome the lingering, debilitating effects of the brain tumor to fulfill her dream of becoming a successful author.

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for brief, non-graphic mention of mature subjects (prostitution, sex, child molestation, male anatomy, etc.)

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of All Better Now from Amazon using a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Navigating the singles dating scene in the Provo/Orem area can be a killer—it can murder a girl's nerves, her self-esteem, and her faith in both God and men.  Jacklyn "Jack" Wyatt should know.  A 25-year-old Utah Valley University (UVU) student, she's considered an old maid.  At least by her mom.  And her meddling aunt.  And her married siblings.  And her nieces and nephews.  Not to mention every decent guy in her LDS student ward, apparently.  It's no wonder Jack's sister decided to take drastic measures and make her a profile on Eter-knit-ty, an online dating site.  It worked, too.  Not only has Jack's profile attracted the attention of some potential disasters dates, it has also brought a handsome FBI agent to her door. 

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for violence and a few respectful references to sex

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of By the Stars from the generous folks at Cedar Fort.  Thank you!