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All Graphic Novels & Comics Coverage

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You don't have to be an artist in the 1920s to find inspiration in Paris. As Lucy Knisley shows in French Milk, you can be an artist in your 20s, in 2007, and still find the City of Light a moving place. Knisley and her mom rented a Parisian apartment for a month to celebrate their respective birthdays: her mother turned 50, and Knisley turned 22. Knisley, an up-and-coming star in the comics world, kept a trip journal that combines her adorable sketches, evocative photographs and sharp observations of herself, her parents and her temporary home.

If Knisley had merely described the pleasures of Paris, the journal would still be worth reading, thanks to her eye for detail, her exultation in French food and her appreciation of the aesthetic delights of the city. But she goes further, bravely including her own moments of weakness: she gets grumpy with her mother, she feels inexplicably sad and lethargic despite her surroundings. The book, in other words, does what all good travelogues do: it traces the inner journey provoked by an outward one. In the course of her stay—thanks to the city's art museums, over-the-top cookies (including a garlic one that received the "Grossest Cookie" award) and especially the extra-thick unpasteurized milk—Knisley falls for Paris. She also discovers that she's happiest while working, and she arrives back home in Chicago excited to start her graduate-school art program, with a new appreciation for her life and friends.

Her gentle humor and overall enthusiasm are part of what make this book—originally self-published—such a charmer.

You don't have to be an artist in the 1920s to find inspiration in Paris. As Lucy Knisley shows in French Milk, you can be an artist in your 20s, in 2007, and still find the City of Light a moving place. Knisley and her mom rented a Parisian apartment for a month to celebrate […]
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In Nidhi Chanani’s enchanting Jukebox, a girl travels back in time but connects with the present.

Shaheen discovers the titular machine as she searches for her music-obsessed father, who has gone missing after they had an argument. She has enlisted her cousin, Tannaz, to help her find him, when the pair stumble upon the jukebox in the attic of her father’s favorite record shop and strange things start happening. With the spin of a record, the jukebox takes them on a magical mystery tour, transporting them to the pivotal places and moments in history that reflect the records it plays. They find themselves amid protest marches, epic concerts and more, all fueled by the legendary music of Nina Simone, James Brown, Marvin Gaye and more. Tannaz enjoys the ride, but Shaheen keeps her eyes peeled for her father and the chance to make things right between them.

Author-illustrator Chanani cleverly employs time travel in this middle grade graphic novel, using it to explore themes of family and friendship in what is ultimately a coming-of-age narrative. Her depictions of the power of music to connect us with history are touching.

Chanani’s illustrations are one of the best things about this book. In addition to graphic novels and picture books, Chanani has been a featured artist with Disney Parks, and her playful, colorful style is well suited to the story she tells here. Her characters have exaggeratedly large and expressive eyes, which lend themselves well to portraying emotions. And as you would expect in a book with music at its core, every page is infused with motion and action.

Although the mystery of the jukebox is eventually revealed, it’s clear that Shaheen’s journey is only just beginning. After all, as Stevie Wonder said, “Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories.”

In Nidhi Chanani’s enchanting Jukebox, a girl travels back in time but connects with the present.

In

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In his breakout graphic novel, New Yorker cartoonist Will McPhail charts a millennial’s ungainly journey toward emotional connection.

With generous wit and mostly black-and-white drawings, In follows Nick, an artist trapped in a cycle of hollow conversations and extra-milky lattes. As the book opens, Nick goes to a bar alone because if he were sad—which he isn’t—that is what a sad man would do. His feelings are just out of reach, as if on the tip of his tongue. Real human interactions likewise feel imminent but elusive, unlockable only with the right words.

When Nick does succeed in making a connection, these moments of emotional disorientation erupt with color. Splashes of crumbling landscapes, towering edifices and bizarrely cute flesh-eating monsters illuminate the pages like fever dreams. Here, the narrative power of images speaks for itself.

In has echoes of the 2012 black-and-white film A Coffee in Berlin and Ben Lerner’s many disaffected “lost boys of privilege.” That In is semiautobiographical lends both tenderness and a self-implicating edge to McPhail’s lampooning of the “woke millennial hipster.” The watering holes Nick frequents (albeit with scorn) have whimsical names like Gentrificchiato and Your Friends Have Kids Bar, and are “managed/haunted by a collection of Timothees Chalamet.” McPhail suggests a playful dichotomy in which you are either a person who posts up in coffee shops or are emotionally well. If you’re feeling attacked, or if you’re Timothée Chalamet, please read on.

The characters in In are absolutely delightful. The moment Nick stops berating himself for his inadequacies, the baton for that task is snatched up by his mother, sister, neighbors, 4-year-old nephew and romantic interest, Wren, who is an especially well-developed character. She is an oncologist and, like Nick, a normcore clothing devotee who enjoys drawing unmentionables in Nick’s Moleskine notebook. 

When Wren becomes unexpectedly entangled in Nick’s family life, he is confronted once again with an opportunity to be in—that is, to be vulnerable. And when small talk becomes real talk, the world suddenly seems all that much brighter.

Small talk becomes real talk in Will McPhail's graphic novel, and the world suddenly seems all that much brighter.

Author Colleen AF Venable and illustrator Stephanie Yue, who previously collaborated on the Guinea Pig Pet Shop Private Eye series, reunite for Katie the Catsitter. This empathetic and exciting superhero series opener is sure to be adored by readers who can’t get enough adventure stories, mysterious goings-on, coming-of-age tales or cats. Many, many, many cats.

The story opens as Katie is lamenting the start of the most boring summer ever, because her BFF Bethany is headed to a pricey sleep-away camp. Then inspiration strikes. Katie hangs a poster in her apartment building hallway advertising odd-job services to her neighbors, in hopes of earning enough money to join Bethany for a week.

After killing plants she was hired to water and dropping groceries she was hired to carry up the stairs, Katie begins to feel desperate. Even worse, Bethany is sending fewer postcards than usual. Could their friendship be waning? Katie is shocked out of her glumness when her mysterious neighbor Ms. Lang makes an offer that seems almost too good to be true: Might Katie want to catsit for $30 an hour?

Katie’s thrilled, but she soon realizes the gig entails dealing with a lot more than hairball hurking and furniture scratching. Although her 217 (yes, 217) charges are definitely cute and cuddly, they’re also wild and wily, with decidedly un-feline talents ranging from computer hacking to coordinated thievery to costume design. And, Katie muses, isn’t it strange that every time the friendly and kind Ms. Lang needs her to catsit, the supervillain Mousetress wreaks havoc on the city?

Yue’s warm and hilarious artwork winningly captures the furry whirlwind that is Ms. Lang’s apartment, as well as the emotions that cross Katie’s face as she contemplates losing a friend and making new ones, not to mention her own growing self-confidence. Yue’s renderings of settings ranging from sharp-edged city skylines to a wacky wax museum to a dramatic night-cloaked forest are downright clever, too.

Katie the Catsitter takes readers to all these places and more. Venable’s twisty plot swoops gleefully around Manhattan, touching on everything from animal activism to evolving relationships to a secret rescue mission, and combining to tell the story of one of the least boring summers ever—while dropping tantalizing hints at thrilling seasons to come. The book’s charming back matter includes a delightful illustrated list of all 217 extraordinary cats. Meow!

Author Colleen AF Venable and illustrator Stephanie Yue, who previously collaborated on the Guinea Pig Pet Shop Private Eye series, reunite for Katie the Catsitter. This empathetic and exciting superhero series opener is sure to be adored by readers who can’t get enough adventure stories, mysterious goings-on, coming-of-age tales or cats. Many, many, many cats.

January may be a time for resolutions, but it’s also a time for celebrating all we accomplished the year before. We’re treating ourselves to these books as we begin the new year with hope.

Everyone’s a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too

How can something so cute be so devastating? In this comic book, Jonny (Jomny) Sun takes a goofy premise—a cute alien is sent to Earth to document human activity—and milks it for every drop of philosophical and existential wisdom. It’s sweet, silly, sentimental, but also frightening. At first, I was hesitant to choose this book for this month’s theme, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that its waves of emotion are a treat. It’s an indulgence and a wonder to step outside of your brain—all three pounds of tissue and synapses—and see the world through the eyes of a kind alien. And it feels good, life-affirming and joyous to know that I’m not the only one who’s so pensive about this life thing. This book is a friend—a friend who challenges you, but they do it because they love you.

—Eric, Editorial Intern


The Best of Me

I’ve read everything David Sedaris has ever written. I own every book he’s ever published. So perhaps some will call it “indulgent” or “difficult to justify” when I nonetheless buy his latest collection, The Best of Me, since it’s a compilation of previously published works. But here’s the thing—this isn’t just another retrospective volume of an author’s most popular works, selected on the basis of their fame. Instead, Sedaris chose each piece himself, based on a metric only he could know, and I’m curious to see which wild cards he included. I know, for example, that “Santaland Diaries,” which first launched him to fame on “This American Life” in 1992, is excluded. But that essay from Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim where he drowns a mouse in a bucket? It’s there. Surprise, delight, confusion, nausea—I’m eager for whatever reactions this book will incite.

—Christy, Associate Editor


Braiding Sweetgrass

It’s been six years since Robin Wall Kimmerer’s luminous collection of nature essays was first published, and I’ve given away every copy I’ve ever owned. That’s fitting: Braiding Sweetgrass endows its reader with the recognition that the world has offered us endless gifts, leading us first to gratitude and then to minidewak, the giving of our own gifts as thanks and recompense in a “covenant of reciprocity.” Kimmerer’s book inspires courage to fight for the Earth amid climate urgency, reveals new ways of knowing and seeing while protecting Indigenous wisdom and fosters a community that actively seeks to heal humanity’s relationship with the world. I’ll keep giving away copies of this book, but this special edition, reissued with letterpress-printed illustrations to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the fabulous indie press Milkweed Editions, will be a gift I give myself.

—Cat, Deputy Editor


Catherine the Great

Do I need more biographical tomes of powerful, take-no-prisoners women on my shelves? Yes. Yes, I do. There is nothing that relaxes me more than sinking into an enormous book full of royal scandals and opulent palaces— bonus points if someone gets poisoned via byzantine plot. I read Robert K. Massie’s superb biography of Catherine the Great earlier this year, and I have been peppering my poor boyfriend with anecdotes about her ever since. For example: When Catherine fell ill early on in her engagement to Peter, the future emperor of Russia, she would pretend to be unconscious in order to eavesdrop on the people gathered around her sickbed. Massie loves Catherine even more than I do. He explores her glamorous court and magnetic personality with flair and precision in this absolute masterpiece of a biography.

—Savanna, Associate Editor


The Duke and I

I’m still pretty new to the wide and wonderful world of Romancelandia, though most of the books I read for pleasure in 2020 were romance novels. I bounced happily back and forth between contemporary and historical settings, from Helen Hoang’s The Kiss Quotient to Evie Dunmore’s Bringing Down the Duke. The only thing I love more than a happy ending is a new series I can dive in to and get lost in for volume after volume, and a friend who knows this about me recommended Julia Quinn’s Bridgerton books more than a year ago. Now that Shonda Rhimes is adapting the sprawling series for Netflix, I want to make sure I’ve read at least the first few books before I watch the first season of the show, which drops on December 25, so I’m planning to pick up The Duke and I and let it sweep me off my feet and into the new year.

—Stephanie, Associate Editor

January may be a time for resolutions, but it’s also a time for celebrating all we accomplished the year before. We’re treating ourselves to these books as we begin the new year with hope.

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Elements of the current crisis­­ will ring familiar to folks of a certain age: the mysterious infection, the incompetent government response, the pernicious effects on the vulnerable, the marginalized, the isolated. The HIV/AIDS epidemic ravaged gay communities in the U.S. starting in the 1980s; only unrelenting pressure from queer activists would make the Reagan administration take notice. The first known report of AIDS was recorded in Los Angeles in 1981—just a dozen years after the 1969 uprising at New York’s Stonewall Inn, the days-long melee between queer and trans people and their police antagonists that marked a turning point in the modern LGBTQ rights movement.

In 2016 that site became a national monument. What an eventful half-century it’s been! These milestones and others are the subject of The Gay Agenda: A Modern Queer History and Handbook. Authors Ashley Molesso and Chess Needham, or Ash + Chess, as they’re known, are prolific illustrators and the proprietors of a stationery company in Richmond, Virginia. This colorful little volume starts around 1900 and offers a brisk romp through recent queer history, with a heavy dose of the arts and popular culture. Think Alison Bechdel, Paris Is Burning and—yep—“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” The authors take care, too, to restore some less well-known figures to their rightful places in the movement, such as Kathy Kozachenko, a lesbian elected to the city council of Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1974, three years before Harvey Milk joined the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.

If you’re a parent, this could be something to share with your queer teen to help them understand the history they’re inheriting—or with any teen to help them be a more informed ally. But as the subtitle mentions, the last few dozen pages of The Gay Agenda form a “handbook,” offered “with the purpose of navigating your queerness or understanding someone elses’s”—so if you’re a queer kid, maybe this is a book you give your parents if they have questions about nonbinary pronouns, pansexuality or the concept of “chosen family.” Something for all; this history is America’s.

Elements of the current crisis­­ will ring familiar to folks of a certain age: the mysterious infection, the incompetent government response, the pernicious effects on the vulnerable, the marginalized, the isolated. The HIV/AIDS epidemic ravaged gay communities in the U.S. starting in the 1980s; only unrelenting pressure from queer activists would make the Reagan administration […]
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Young adults Lou and Bea meet up unexpectedly as they both travel alone—for various reasons—across West Texas. Whatever the reasons, they seem to be better off together than alone in this graphic novel that addresses issues of sexual abuse, loneliness, sexual identity and betrayal.

The duo chat about their lives back home, which are often more frightening and uncertain than the ones they face ahead. Along the way, they face some odd occurrences—like a mysterious cat tagging along and the presence of two dark looming figures. Walden evocatively sets the mood and tone with deepening, ominous tones of black and white. Only the first few pages (presumably reality?), contain color, albeit in dark tones.

There are tears, fears, some raw language and evil foreboding in this graphic novel that will leave readers pondering and contemplating the power of human connection.

Young adults Lou and Bea meet up unexpectedly as they both travel alone—for various reasons—across West Texas. Whatever the reasons, they seem to be better off together than alone in this graphic novel that takes on tough issues of sexual abuse, loneliness, sexual identity and betrayal.

Award-winning cartoonist Tillie Walden’s latest book, On a Sunbeam, is a sumptuous feast for the eyes and the heart. Originally a web comic, Walden’s sci-fi graphic novel amazes and inspires.

Mia is a young woman who joins a crew on a spaceship in a universe we’ve yet to discover. Mia and her new friends travel from place to place repairing visually fantastic architecture, but Mia hopes for a stop in a very specific destination: the forbidden part of the universe called the Staircase, where she hopes to find her lost love, Grace.

A rich, complex and detailed story, On a Sunbeam has some extraordinary revelations. Even knowing ahead of time that the story is a lesbian romance, I was still surprised when I realized that Walden’s futuristic universe is filled entirely with female-identifying characters (and at least one nonbinary character). Everyone has two mothers, and all their siblings are sisters. There is no discussion or explanation about this in the story—it just is how it is. This world allows Walden to present a love between two women as the norm. Love, loss, adventure and discovery of new worlds are free to take center stage, not the tired girl-love-in-a-straight-world trope.

This remarkable and compelling book, filled with stunning ink and color art, will keep readers entranced for a long time.

 

This article was originally published in the October 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Award-winning cartoonist Tillie Walden’s latest book, On a Sunbeam, is a sumptuous feast for the eyes and the heart. Originally a web comic, Walden’s sci-fi graphic novel amazes and inspires.

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If you think you’ve read everything there is to read about the Holocaust in young adult fiction, think again. True, Vesper Stamper’s debut novel, What the Night Sings, contains scenes that have come to be staples of the genre: a Nazi raid, an overcrowded train journey, prisoners starving in concentration camps. But Stamper frames these familiar motifs with a question not often addressed in Holocaust literature: What happens after liberation?

Gerta is a singer and a violist who has lost her family and her voice. Roza is relearning to play the piano with damaged hands. Lev finds solace in his prayers. Micah is scouring Europe for survivors who are willing to build a new life in British-occupied Palestine. As each character begins to heal in body, soul and spirit, they wrestle with difficult questions about their identities, their relationships and their futures. Suffused with detailed descriptions of Jewish life and customs, What the Night Sings is illustrated with Stamper’s sepia-tone drawings, and her background as an artist shines as she uses light, shadow and repetition to depict everything from meager food rations to a glorious wedding gown. Do not miss this stunning debut.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our Q&A with Vesper Stamper.

This article was originally published in the April 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

If you think you’ve read everything there is to read about the Holocaust in young adult fiction, think again. True, Vesper Stamper’s debut novel, What the Night Sings, contains scenes that have come to be staples of the genre: a Nazi raid, an overcrowded train journey, prisoners starving in concentration camps. But Stamper frames these familiar motifs with a question not often addressed in Holocaust literature: What happens after liberation?

Award-winning author and illustrator Lita Judge is best known for her picture books, but her new work, Mary’s Monster, introduces teen readers to the brilliant Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

Judge spent five years researching Shelley in order to create this dramatic, creative and fictionalized biography. (Frankenstein’s monster authors a prologue.) Narrated from Shelley’s point-of-view, Judge’s lyrical free verse is accompanied by more than 300 pages of evocative, black-and-white watercolor illustrations, and this innovative format will have special appeal for young graphic novel fans.

Judge divides Shelley’s story into nine sections, reflecting the number of months Shelley spent writing her draft of Frankenstein. The last pages include illuminating source notes, a bibliography and short bios of Shelley’s peers along with plenty of background information on Shelley and her classic novel. All of these educational additions should prove useful in helping teen readers appreciate the importance of both Shelley’s work and her struggle to lead a fulfilling creative life at a time when social norms severely restricted women’s options.

Mary’s Monster is aimed at mature readers, as Judge does not shy away from including details such as the death of Shelley’s first baby and the suicide of her half-sister. Instead, Judge weaves these personal losses seamlessly into her narrative, much as Shelley drew on her own struggles in order to breathe life into one of the most enduring books of all time.

 

Deborah Hopkinson lives near Portland, Oregon. Her most recent book for young readers is Ordinary, Extraordinary Jane Austen.

Award-winning author and illustrator Lita Judge is best known for her picture books, but her new work introduces teen readers to the brilliant Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.
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Young Pig lives in Sunrise Valley, but his world is filled with darkness in The Dam Keeper, the first of three graphic novels based on a 2015 Oscar-nominated short film. This riveting new story begins five years after the events in the film, focusing on an epic journey undertaken by Pig, his best and only friend, Fox, and her friend Hippo.

Pig is ostracized in his village, yet he keeps the town safe by operating an ingenious dam that his father built to keep a dark, deadly fog at bay. The fog killed Pig’s mother when he was a baby, and his father, seemingly crazed by grief, eventually walked out into the fog, apparently to his death. Pig, meanwhile, has become the self-sufficient, albeit lonely, dam keeper.

Pig is irritated, however, when Fox brings Hippo to see the dam. Hippo may be Fox’s friend, but he’s Pig’s archnemesis. During the visit a sudden tidal wave of fog blasts Pig, Fox and Hippo into the dangerous, desolate world beyond the dam, and they must band together to find their way back to safety before another wave of fog returns.

Dice Tsutsumi’s stunning illustrations bring a mesmerizing cinematic immediacy to Robert Kondo story, creating an ongoing interplay between light and dark, life and death, hope and despair. The stakes are high, as is the electric tension—this is by no means a book for the faint of heart. That said, Pig, Fox, and even the bullying Hippo are cute, lovable characters that will appeal to older elementary and middle grade students. Within its epic atmosphere, The Dam Keeper explores themes like fear, loneliness, friendship, bravery and bullying in complex, understated ways.

As the book closes, the cliffhangers couldn’t be higher. Might Pig’s father still be alive? Did Pig catch sight of him in the wilderness, leading the trio forward, or was he dreaming? Can the group trust a strange new creature named Van who promises to take them back to Sunrise Valley? And what will they find in a big new city they’re about to enter?

Readers will blaze their way through The Dam Keeper’s thrilling 160 pages and be champing at the bit for the next installment.

Young Pig lives in Sunrise Valley, but his world is filled with darkness in The Dam Keeper, the first of three graphic novels based on a 2015 Oscar-nominated short film. This riveting new story begins five years after the events in the film, focusing on an epic journey undertaken by Pig, his best and only friend, Fox, and her friend Hippo.

Victoria Jamieson’s latest graphic novel is an interesting take on the popular tween book subgenre of “middle school is a new and scary place.” The main character, Imogene, is not only starting sixth grade at a new middle school, but she’s also been homeschooled all the years before. On top of that, her family participates annually in the local Renaissance Faire, and Imogene is more familiar with the duties of a squire than that of a classmate.

The year seems to start well when Imogene makes friends with the “popular” girls. They even like her funky boots—until they notice that she wears them every day. Imogene struggles to keep up with the trends in school while remaining true to her faire family and values. When she discovers that the decidedly unpopular Anita also loves coming to the Faire and dressing up, Imogene’s loyalty is truly tested. After several missteps—most of which alienate everyone, including her family—Imogene finds her feet and sets her course.

Jamieson’s Roller Girl was awarded a Newbery Honor, and All’s Faire in Middle School may be another contender. Jamieson can weave a compelling story, and her artwork is clean and accessible. This is an excellent addition to any middle grade graphic novel collection.

 

Jennifer Bruer Kitchel is the librarian for a pre-K through eighth-level Catholic school.

Victoria Jamieson’s latest graphic novel is an interesting take on the popular tween book subgenre of “middle school is a new and scary place.” The main character, Imogene, is not only starting sixth grade at a new middle school, but she’s also been homeschooled all the years before. On top of that, her family participates annually in the local Renaissance Faire, and Imogene is more familiar with the duties of a squire than that of a classmate.

When my 10-year-old son saw the irresistible drawing on the cover of this book, he grabbed it out of my hands. Page after hilarious and heartbreaking page, my boy’s laughter got louder and more complex. At points, he just stopped and stared at the two-page spread, bewildered by the ingeniously awkward words and images. Everyone’s a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too by artist and comedy writer Jomny Sun is not a children’s book. But when an author’s first novel has prepublication raves from Lin-Manuel Miranda and Joss Whedon, you can be sure it’s going to bust across traditional genres and age categories.

Little Jomny is an aliebn left on earbth by his fellow alienbs to find out about humabns. What Jomny doesn’t realize is that everyone he meets is everything but human. He makes friends with a bear, snail, owl and egg, plus an artistic porcupine, all of whom he kindly helps with their various identity crises. Jomny befriends a swarm of philosophical bees, a metamorphosing frog, an otter who fancies himself an auteur (say it twice) and NOTHING. That’s right, NOTHING. Because NOTHING matters. Best of all is Jomny’s best friend, a tree who winds up giving a devastating critique of Shel Silverstein’s famous book, A Giraffe and a Half.

When I got through Jomny’s zanily illustrated adventures for the third time (it’s impossible to stop), I knew that I was happier and emotionally richer for understanding so much less about my life than I had before. That’s the beautiful essence of philosophy. It took my son only 20 minutes to finish Aliebn, but he keeps grabbing it every time he sees it. It’s a gripping story and so much fun.

When my 10-year-old son saw the irresistible drawing on the cover of this book, he grabbed it out of my hands. Page after hilarious and heartbreaking page, my boy’s laughter got louder and more complex. At points, he just stopped and stared at the two-page spread, bewildered by the ingeniously awkward words and images. Everyone’s a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too by artist and comedy writer Jomny Sun is not a children’s book. But when an author’s first novel has prepublication raves from Lin-Manuel Miranda and Joss Whedon, you can be sure it’s going to bust across traditional genres and age categories.

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