When I'm a Moshom

Written by David A. Robertson

Illustrated by Corrie Hill

Tundra Books

978-1-77488-174-3

40 pp.

Ages 3–7

May 26 2026 

 

This is a story of remembrance and celebration. It's also a story of expectation and promise.

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

The narrator remembers all the lovely memories he has with his moshom, his grandfather. He begins each memory with:

When I'm a moshom,

A long, long time from now,

before stating what he promises to do, "Just like Moshom did." He will watch his grandchildren in their activities, whether dancing, swimming, playing hockey, or doing gymnastics. But he will also share with them activities important to him. And so many of these shares are traditions and cultural legacies from past generations, whether hunting for muskrat, making bannock, telling stories, or speaking to them in Swampy Cree. There is also the feelings that Moshom extended to him, from a deep love to respect and pride. The narrator has not forgotten his moshom's legacy of teachings and devotion, and he intends to do the same for another generation, for his own grandchildren. 

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

David A. Robertsona is the author of picture books like The Song That Called Them Home (2023) and Little Shoes (2025), both illustrated by Maya McKibbin; middle grade novels like The Misewa Saga series (2021–2015); graphic novels including Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story (2021); and YA (e.g., Strangers, 2017). While his skill at writing different genres for a variety of audiences is clearly evident, David A. Robertson excels at embedding his stories in the traditions of his Indigenous culture. He does the same in When I'm A Moshom. Not only do we learn about that which his grandfather taught him and shared with him, we see a pride in a legacy of culture. From visiting his community, teaching traditions of celebration and food, and sharing in ceremonies, both moshoms, past and future, embrace the richness of their cultures and strive to impart it to their grandchildren. But it's not heavy-handed sermonizing. Instead, it is the gifting, almost a bequest, of that which is treasured and appreciated. 

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

While David A. Robertson's words are based in reminiscences of his moshom, When I'm a Moshom is not a story of sadness of loss. It is one of hope and promise for the future. It's a man looking to a time when he can emulate the memories he had with a beloved grandfather and create lasting ones with his own grandchildren. Illustrator Corrie Hill, a member of the Mohawk Nation, Bear Clan, from Six Nations of the Grand River, ensures that expectation of legacy in her digital artwork. While her art may seem restrained with its clean lines and shapes, Corrie Hill endows her illustrations with joy and family in simple touches. It could be hand-holding, a hug, a smile, laughing eyes, or attention. Because of the depth of heart in her artwork, I am in awe that When I'm a Moshom is her debut picture book.

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

When I'm a Moshom is a story that looks to the past to guide in the future. It's looking to that which was lived and experienced to help advise that which will be. Here, the narrator remembers his moshom and the ways his moshom made him feel loved and cherished. Through his actions and communications, his moshom made sure the child felt like he mattered. Whether taking them fishing, speaking to them in Swampy Cree, smudging them, or teaching them to play cribbage, this grandfather and this future moshom know what it means to be a caring elder and unexpected mentor to his grandchildren. How fortunate to be the nôsisimak of either moshom.

The One About the Blackbird

Written by Melanie Florence

Illustrated by Matt James

Tundra Books

978-1-774882665

40 pp.

Ages 4–8

October 2025 

 

I don't know which song is the one about the blackbird, but I've been humming Paul McCartney's song from the Beatles' White Album ever since I read this picture book, and I could see why it had such an impact on young Jack. This is the story of Jack and the music that imbued his family life, and the connection he made with it and his grandfather. 

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Jack recalls being a kid with music all around at home, whether his grandfather was playing one of his many instruments—sax, guitar, trumpet, keyboard, drums—or spinning an LP from his extensive collection. The day his grandfather agrees to teach him to play the guitar, especially his favourite song, the one about the blackbird, Jack is thrilled. But, playing the song as well as his grandfather does not come instantly.

He struck the strings wildly, almost dropping the guitar at the loud, tuneless BROOOONG that honked out of the instrument. (pg. 15)

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Though it is hard, Jack perseveres and can finally play the song and others. And when he is older and leaves home, Jack plays for crowds worldwide. 

 

When Jack returns home, his grandfather has forgotten how to play that favourite song and even that he'd given his old guitar to Jack. But, when Jack plays the song for him, reconnecting the two to each other and their past, his grandfather remembers it as "the one about the blackbird."

 

Earlier this week, I reviewed a book about music bridging generations, and now we have another about the power of song to connect across time. But Melanie Florence, whose earlier picture books emphasize connections between young people and their Indigenous family (e.g., Missing Nimâmâ, 2015, Stolen Words, 2017, and Kaiah's Garden, 2024), makes music the bond between a grandfather and their grandchild. First, that bond comes from the grandfather sharing his love of music with a child, and then a grown man reminding his elderly grandfather of that bond. Regardless of who was teaching about the music, the message that, "If it was easy, everyone would do it" is repeated, both encouraging and uniting. Melanie Florence helps us see that change does not mean loss, just a reconfiguration that can be just as rich as the original.

From The One About the Blackbird, written by Melanie Florence, illustrated by Matt James

Matt James, illustrator of award-winning books including I Know Here (Laurel Croza, 2010), The Northwest Passage (Stan Rogers, 2013), and When the Moon Comes (Paul Harbridge, 2017), gets deeper into that relationship with his acrylic artwork that also includes textured elements. Whether the boy is hanging out with his grandfather, struggling to hold a guitar, or showing his grandfather how to move his fingers into position, Matt James makes us feel the effort of their attachment. The emotion in their struggles and their joys jump from the page, reflected in their faces, their body language, and their actions. 

 

Like the blackbird of that song, the boy, and later young man, learned to fly. He learned to take flight in song and in life, gathering knowledge at the feet of one who knew how. And when that knowledge wanes, as happens with time and age, that grandson helps his beloved grandfather hear the song again.

Nevin Knows

Written by Mireille Messier

Illustrated by Elena Comte

Orca Book Publishers

978-1-4598-3684-6

32 pp.

Ages 3-5

February 2025 

 

What does Nevin know? He knows what he wants. 

From Nevin Knows, written by Mireille Messier, illustrated by Elena Comte

Nevin may not have a lot of words in his vocabulary yet–he is but a toddler–but he's pretty clear how to say "No" and "Yes" and he knows when to use them. When he and his Grandpa Frank are getting ready to visit the park, Grandpa Frank asks Nevin what he wants to wear. He gives his grandson choices, some of which are quite silly, and Nevin makes it clear which is the best choice for him. He may not realize it, but Grandpa Frank is giving the child the opportunity to be part of the process rather than just making him do what his caregivers are going to do anyways. (The sneakers were always the best choice, as was the ball cap.)

From Nevin Knows, written by Mireille Messier, illustrated by Elena Comte

Even as they start heading out, Grandpa Frank asks Nevin which way to go. (I'm sure Grandpa Frank knows but by giving Nevin the opportunity to voice his choices, the child is amused and given power.)

From Nevin Knows, written by Mireille Messier, illustrated by Elena Comte

Nevin knows his favourite places to play and how much he likes greeting the birds and a dog, and even which flowers to pick for Nana. (Thankfully he doesn't want the planted flowers but rather the dandelions.)

From Nevin Knows, written by Mireille Messier, illustrated by Elena Comte

The whole point of Nevin Knows is how a grandfather allows his grandson to make choices that empower him, even if Grandpa Frank has known all along what they would be doing and where they would be going. It's a kind and compassionate grandparent who can ask rather than always be telling a child what's going to happen. I suspect that even if Nevin chose something inappropriate, Grandpa Frank would turn it around to ensure that it was a good choice but one that Nevin made himself. Mireille Messier, who has written numerous picture books in both English and French (e.g., The Magic Cap, Nutcracker Night, and Fatima and the Clementine Thieves just to name a few), easily gets into the head of a young child and what they want and to thrive, and into the shoes of those fun and kind grandparents who care for their grandchildren without being authoritarian. Mireille Messier demonstrates that young children, even those with limited vocabularies, can share their feelings and needs if there are only those who would ask and listen.

 

Elena Comte, a Montreal illustrator and nurse, created the artwork for Nevin Knows digitally, emphasizing the shapes and colours that would appeal to very young children. But more than that, she creates scenes that emphasize the elements would be most important to children: dandelions, birds, swings, a playground spring rider, grass, and those they love. 

Both Mireille Messier and Elena Comte make sure that this book truly is about Nevin. There may be caregivers who supervise and protect him, but Nevin is given the capacity to make choices. With that gift of empowerment, even in allowing him to make the simplest of choices, his grandfather bolsters his little grandson and provides him with opportunities for building his confidence and his voice, and for strengthening their relationship. How lovely is that?

Dancing with Daisy

Written by Jan L. Coates

Illustrated by Josée Bisaillon

Running the Goat, Books & Broadsides

978-1-927917206

44 pp.

Ages 4-8

June 2019

Dancing with Daisy is a grandfather's story told to a grandchild intrigued by an album of old photos and memories. It's also a a fisherman's story so you know it might be a bit of a tall tale.

From Dancing with Daisy, text by Jan L. Coates, art by Josée Bisaillon

"Back in '62 it was, a frosty fall day." So begins this fisherman's tale of the onslaught of Hurricane Daisy as she "came roaring up the coast. She whirled and spun and whipped the waves into such a frenzy, they started leaping straight up onto the deck."

From Dancing with Daisy, text by Jan L. Coates, art by Josée Bisaillon

In true tall tale fashion, the grandfather exaggerates Daisy's impact as she  throws him onto an island and tugs and grabs at him to draw him into a dance. His wrinkles are the result of Daisy trying to bribe him with dollars that sliced into his skin and created scars. His arthritic hands came from clutching the branches of the tree and his blue veins resulted from her freezing cold breath. His raspy voice came from barking communications with a seal washed up on shore and he lost his hair when Daisy grabbed at his hair, playing "He loves me, he loves me not."

From Dancing with Daisy, text by Jan L. Coates, art by Josée Bisaillon

He returned to shore first on a handcrafted raft and then upon his own home's red roof, walking seven back-breaking miles before losing his teeth that ended up as icebergs. Daisy only abandoned her quest to dance with the man after "Nana went out and gave her a good talking to."

From Dancing with Daisy, text by Jan L. Coates, art by Josée Bisaillon

The grandfather undoubtedly remembers every detail of his harrowing assault on his fishing boat while besieged by Hurricane Daisy which tracked through the Maritimes in early October of 1962. It took six lives in Canada and smashed fishing boats, piers, and buildings with its rainfall and high winds. But the grandfather of Jan L. Coates's story protects his grandchild from the devastating truths of Daisy's impact and instead makes it into a tall tale that explains his aging, its own overwhelming trial, even ending with a good laugh.

Josée Bisaillon's art is a wonderful accompaniment to Jan L. Coates's story, taking readers to the Atlantic coast of colourful buildings, cold grey waters and tumultuous weather through her illustrations of watercolours, pastels, pencil and cut paper. Presenting the wind is a formidable task but Josée Bisaillon conveys movement and power in the water and the sky without restraint. It may be scary and mighty but it's still playful in its dance, and with the affectionate closeness of grandparent and child, Dancing with Daisy becomes more intergenerational tale, even if a little tall, than recall of a disaster.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Running the Goat Books & Broadsides shares a video of Jan L. Coates discussing her story and background for Dancing with Daisy on YouTube.

Uploaded to YouTube by Running the Goat on June 27, 2019.

Stolen Words

Written by Melanie Florence

Illustrated by Gabrielle Grimard

Second Story Press

978-1-77260-037-7

24 pp.

Ages 6-9

September 2017

A young girl's simple request of her grandfather to learn how to say a word in Cree reveals much about the system that stole his language from him and so many Aboriginal children but more about the affection and courage of those who have the grit to ensure those words do not remain silent or withheld forever.

From Stolen Words 

by Melanie Florence 

illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

It's evident from the words and actions of the seven-year-old girl and her grandfather that their relationship is a cherished one.  She is exuberant from her day at school, pleased with what she's made and learned, and comforted with his attention as he escorts her home, holding her hand and carrying her backpack.  But when she asks, "How do you say grandfather in Cree?" his response is a lesson in history and one muted with hurt and needless shame.  As his granddaughter continues to ask "Where did they take them?", "Who took you away, Grandpa?" and "Where did they take you, Grandpa?", her grandfather tells the history, heartbreaking in the capture of the Aboriginal children's words like a raven in the cage of Gabrielle Grimard's grim illustrations of the residential school.

From Stolen Words

 by Melanie Florence

 illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

But his hurt and lack of words does not deter the child's curiosity or compassion, and she brings home a worn book titled "Introduction to Cree" so that together they might speak the language of home and release the formerly imprisoned language.

Nôsisim, he whispered.
Granddaughter.

The word felt familiar in his mouth.

It felt like his home. His mother.

As the grandfather reconnects with his past and makes a new connection with his young granddaughter, I wept for his loss, his family, his struggle and his courage to take steps forward. It's an emotionally charged series of interactions and memories that are pure Melanie Florence.  They will astound readers and sadden them, while encouraging healing and learning without shame or anger.  Her words, thankfully not stolen, make for leaps forward for those whose language was pilfered from them as vulnerable children. Gabrielle Grimard's illustrations are similarly strong and soft, taking the reader into the intimate relationship between a grandfather harbouring hurts and a child wanting to help.

Melanie Florence took on the gut-wrenching issue of missing Indigenous women in her award-winning picture book Missing Nimâmâ which was divinely illustrated by François Thisdale (Clockwise Press, 2015) and similarly addresses the emotional trauma of the residential schools in stifling language.  While the generations after the residential schools are still affected by their inconceivable legacy, the healing will come through them.  The grandfather's words may have been stolen but his loving granddaughter is the means by which they will be restored.

From Stolen Words 

by Melanie Florence 

illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

Grandfather and the Moon

Written by Stéphanie Lapointe

Illustrated by Rogé

Translated by ShelleyTanaka

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-963-4

100 pp.

Ages 10-13

May 2017

Grand-père et la Lune won the 2016 Governor General's Award for French-language children's illustration and Groundwood Books has astutely engaged Shelley Tanaka to bring this jewel as Grandfather and the Moon to English-language readers. It's sensitive and nostalgic and emotive in a finely understated approach, blending a grandfather-granddaughter relationship with an exceptional journey into space.

Though it is evident from the subtle words and illustrations at the onset that the young girl's grandfather has passed, this is her story of how she remembers him.  He affectionately called her Mémère and, though he spoke few words, he said much to her.  He told his granddaughter of his past work, and always insisted she go to university and get her degree.  He drove around in a tank of a Chrysler and loved spaghetti that came out of a can.

From Grandfather and the Moon 

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

Life passed through Grandfather
like one long breath.
Warm,
and slow.

He adored his wife Lucille and was devastated by her death, slipping into a depression of fewer words, "Like his heart ran out of gas." When the Who Will Go to the Moon Contest is announced (though Grandfather hadn't heard of it, since he rarely watched TV, declaring that "Television is something that ends up doing our thinking for us"), the young girl is selected from hundreds of thousands of people for the space journey.

From Grandfather and the Moon 

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

After a booming launch, the girl ponders the beauty and silence of space, infusing her deliberations with her perspective on the history of space travel.  Just like the overwhelming emptiness her grandfather endured upon the death of his wife, the girl is staggered by the desolation.  Her response is stunning, to herself and others, but her grandfather in his box of a car is still there for her.

From Grandfather and the Moon

by Stéphanie Lapointe

illus. by Rogé

The relationship between granddaughter and grandfather is everything in Grandfather and the Moon.  There may be an extraordinary trip into space by an ordinary girl but even that does not surpass the profound connection between the two as the most important feature of the book.  Hardly effusive, the two still nurture their relationship as you would a fragile glass sphere, taking care with it but not engulfing it.  And even though I never knew either of my grandfathers, I know this young girl and this man who says so much in his actions and impacts her choices.  This must be a relationship very familiar to author Stéphanie Lapointe as her perspective is so intimate and touched with affection.

Award-winning artist Rogé who has illustrated countless French- and English-language books, his own and those of other authors,  uses pencil to evoke both the delicacy and the transparency of the relationship between the two generations in Grandfather and the Moon.  Moreover, the contemplative nature of the story comes out in Rogé's illustrations, from scenes of Grandfather at Lucille's bedside or the young girl's sojourn into space.  The colours are ever muted, with only glints of red, green or blue like stars in an oppressively darkened sky.  Together Stéphanie Lapointe and Rogé ensure that Grandfather and the Moon is loaded in gravitas in both words and art but with twinkles of humour and sweetness.  Because that's what life is generally like.  

Hand Over Hand

by Alma Fullerton

Illustrated by Renné Benoit

Second Story Press

978-1-77260-015-5

24 pp.

Ages 5-8

April 2017

Alma Fullerton is becoming well known for taking young readers to other parts of the world to appreciate different ways of life.  There was A Good Trade (Pajama Press, 2012) set in Uganda; Community Soup (Pajama Press, 2013) which is based  in a school garden in Kenya; and In a Cloud of Dust (Pajama Press, 2015) which emphasizes the long distances Tanzanian children travel to school.  Now Alma Fullerton, with Renné Benoit’s soft illustrations, transports young readers to the Philippines in Hand Over Hand and takes up the cause of a young girl determined to not let her gender limit the life she wants to have.

It’s evident that Nina is expected to stay on shore and tend to racks of drying fish because she is a girl.

From Hand Over Hand 

by Alma Fullerton 

illus. by Renné Benoit

When she proposes to her grandfather, Lolo, that he take her out fishing in the banca boat with him, he scoffs at first.  But Nina is determined and insists she will bait her own hook and remove the caught fish.  It is obviously a milestone for the young child but one her grandfather accepts and even defends to the other fishermen who discount Nina.  However, though Lolo instructs his granddaughter in the art of baiting and jigging, demonstrating the hand-over-hand technique for drawing his line in, Nina is catching no fish.  When she becomes dismayed, repeating the other fishermen’s refrain that a girl can’t fish, Lolo shares the wise words, “Posh! The fish can’t tell you’re a girl.” Just when she is checking that the bait is still intact, she gets a tremendous tug on her line.  Nina, fearful she might not be strong enough to bring in the fish, almost gives it up to Lolo but he instead encourages her to use the hand-over-hand technique and persevere.

From Hand Over Hand 

by Alma Fullerton 

illus. by Renné Benoit

Hand Over Hand is a story of empowerment and determination when faced with naysayers and traditions that keep opportunities at bay.  Alma Fullerton’s simple story is loaded with lessons in seeing beyond gender, of courage to take on new struggles, both emotional and physical, and of the amazing things that can be accomplished with a supportive hand.  Even the other fishermen are surprised when they see the big fish little Nina brings in. The messages are evident but the context of Hand Over Hand is just as powerful, revealing the fishing traditions of the Philippines, as well as the stereotyping of roles that are being broken all over the world.  With a charming but realistic relationship between grandfather and granddaughter, Alma Fullerton encourages cultural competence amongst all readers.

Illustrator Renné Benoit whose artwork has garnered numerous awards and nominations (e.g., Proud as a Peacock, Brave as a Lion by Jane Barclay, Tundra, 2009;  The Secret of the Village Fool by Rebecca Upjohn, Second Story Press, 2012; A Year of Borrowed Men by Michelle Barker, Pajama Press, 2015) was the perfect choice  for Hand Over Hand.  Her watercolour and coloured pencil with pastels lend an airiness to the outdoor setting of sky and water, and an innocence to Nina and her endeavours.

Hand Over Hand has a purity of text and image that promotes an appreciation for another culture but it extends beyond by furthering the idea of gender equality, helping a little girl and her grandfather both see a new way of doing things.

From Hand Over Hand 

by Alma Fullerton 

illus. by Renné Benoit

Weerdest Day Ever!

First there was the Seven Series.

Then came the Seven Sequels.

Today the long-awaited Seven Prequels launches! 

Get a taste for the Seven Prequels with my review of  

Richard Scrimger's contribution to the series here.

Written by Richard Scrimger

Orca Book Publishers

9781459811553

216 pp.

Ages 9-12

September 2016

Reviewed from advance reading copy

Weerdest Day Ever! is a story that Bunny (Bernard) is writing for his Grade 10 English class about a camping trip with his Grampa and brother Spencer.  It begins with an “Oops. Sorry.” that is pure Bunny.   But as weird as his tale might be, he makes a point of clarifying that it is essentially true, though knowing Bunny, he does tend to misinterpret much since he often takes things literally and at face value.

This story is true–mostly its true.  You wont think so but it is.  Like the war. Yah there reely was a war. Or the cow.  Or the hollow tree. Or what happened to the 1 arm man. (pg. 3)

Since I know he’s got you hooked with that beginning, his story is off to a great start.  And, if I were his teacher, I could easily disregard his spelling mistakes because the content of his story is so engaging.

Grampa doesn’t tell them much about the trip except that there will be surprises at the park that weekend.  His only rule is that, if they go out on their own, that they must stay close and check in.  When Spencer loses his new and distinctly yellow-cased smart phone, Bunny goes exploring by himself and discovers some guys in blue jackets and white pants and tall hats armed with guns that looked longer and fancier than rifles he knew.  He meets two kids, Beth and her quiet brother Tyler, both dressed in fringed leather clothing and with makeup, sneaking through the woods.  Beth tells them they are with the British and those men in blue are the Americans and there would be in battle tomorrow.  Beth then introduces Bunny to their father, Tecumseh, a general with an impressive sword, at a community of tents, wagons, horses and a log house in a large open area.

Most readers would get that what Bunny is witnessing is a re-enactment from the War of 1812 but Bunny truly believes a war is about take place and feels he must warn his Grampa.  But, Bunny knows how to recognize a bully and, when a blue-coated, one-armed man comes by and taunts Beth’s father and uses discriminatory and rude words like "savages" and "red skins", Bunny calls him out on it, making an enemy of the “reactor” (i.e., re-enactor) whom they learn is an American called Brasher.  Later when Bunny and the silent tracker Tyler go snooping and Bunny sees Brasher with Spencer’s distinctive cell phone, Bunny’s mission becomes two-fold: warn Grampa about the war, and get Spencer’s phone back.  Along the way, though, Bunny and his new friends have another mystery to solve, that of the theft of Tecumseh's sword, solved all the more easily because of Bunny's astute observations.

I can’t possible go into all the layers of Richard Scrimger’s plot but it does encompass a war, a one-armed man, a cow, as Bunny mentions at the onset, but also Laura Secord, a sword, a phone, horseback riding, a re-enactment, budding romances for all three campers, an elderly woman with hearing issues, antagonism with Americans, meaningful ice-cream, a hollow tree, a bully, and a familial rivalry.  It must have seemed like the “weerdest day ever!” for sweet and trusting Bunny who spends most of the weekend worried.  He’s worried about Spencer and his lost phone; about a war they may lose and who might get killed; about Beth and a horse-handler named Clod; about the mean bully named Brasher; and more. But even with all these worries, Bunny’s perspective allows him to see circumstances with wisdom and the humour with which Richard Scrimger’s writing is always imbued.

     “What if we lose?” I said. “What then?”
     Wuld we become American? And what would that mean–being American?
     If I was American Id have a different anthem. O say can you see.  I didnt know it all but I knew that part.  No more standing on gard.  If I was American Id have a president.  My capital city wuld be Washington.  Id have green money. (pg. 104)

How can you not love Bunny?  He may have spelling challenges and trust others too quickly, but he is wise beyond his years (he’s in Grade 6 when the camping trip takes place), recognizing that the only rule he needs to live by is you should do what you want unless it hurts somebody.  

It’s very satisfying to learn a bit about Bunny’s earlier story, as well as get hints of his grandfather David McLean’s covert and romantic entanglements, in this book of the Seven Prequels.  I suspect readers of the remaining Seven Prequels will feel the same after learning a bit more about Spencer, DJ, Webb, Adam, Rennie and Steve.  I can only reiterate what we have said all along about the Seven series, the Seven Sequels and now the Seven Prequels:  read them in any order, just read them.

Be sure to check out all the blog stops on the Seven Prequels tour to launch the series, starting today:

• Norah McClintock at Lost in a Great Book

• Richard Scrimger here at CanLit for LittleCanadians

• Eric Walters at Literary Treats

• John Wilson at teenreads

• Ted Staunton at Young Adult Books Central

• Shane Peacock at MrsReadsBooks

• Sigmund Brouwer at Lost in a Great Book

AND

Check back tomorrow for my own blog tour stop for the Seven Prequels, my interview with author Richard Scrimger.

Between Shadows

by Kathleen Cook Waldron

Coteau Books

978-1-55050-612-9

100 pp.

Ages 8-12

April 2015

"When we lose people we love, we need to remember how they lived, not just how they died.  Life is more than shadows, it's the light behind those shadows." (pg. 12-13)

Ari Martin's memories of his 9th summer at his Gramps' cabin are filled with learning how to swim, paddle, and picking mushrooms and berries.  That is, until an accident with a logging truck takes his mother's life and Ari and his father never return.  Finally, Ari is 12 and set to visit Gramps alone this summer. Then his grandfather dies.  So what had been a perfect plan becomes Dad and Ari flying from Toronto to meet with Dad's sister Laurel and go to the cabin, now painted in the colours of the rainbow, to settle Gramps' estate.

But, regardless of Gramps' will which leaves the cabin and 160 acres on Canoe Lake to Ari, everything can be sold by his father and aunt if they decide to do so and put the money into a trust for him.  And Aunt Laurel, who'd already put up a locked gate to the property, has arranged for a realtor to appraise the property and is talking to a developer who wants to put up a resort and golf course.

However, Ari is out there reliving the summer with his Gramps and making the acquaintance of a girl named Tam who knew his grandfather–seems like everyone nearby did and really liked the man–and shares with Ari a secret way to a secluded beach that his grandfather allowed locals to use.

The family they once were–with Mom and Gramps–is gone, now in the shadows, and only ever briefly do Ari, Dad and Aunt Laurel come together to act as a normal family.  But Ari is holding out for a family and friends and a place to call home more than his father and aunt realize and, with a little help from new friends and Gramps, he's going to do it.

I'm sorry I missed Between Shadows when it first came out because it is a great read: inspiring and honest and pitched perfect for a middle-grade readership.  While still dealing with difficult issues of death and grief and family dynamics, even dysfunctional ones, Kathleen Cook Waldron gets inside Ari's head and knows what a kid–and he could be any child from 8 to 12–wants and needs without having him become precocious or demanding.  He's just a kid who wants to feel the love of family and the safety of home and friendship.  That's not asking that much.  And by getting Ari to see Between Shadows for the good stuff that was out there and within his grasp, Kathleen Cook Waldron provides a cheery reminder that sometimes things work out just fine.