Greetings to our YA reading community, and welcome to the third week of May. Our Weekend Pick is brought to us by another University of Missouri graduate student - and we are so thankful for their contributions this month!

Angeline Boulley’s Sisters in the Wind is a powerful YA mystery thriller that follows 18-year-old Lucy Smith, whose life has been shaped by loss and survival ever since her father’s death five years ago. As a ward of the state, Lucy has spent years moving through the foster system, learning to stay guarded and constantly alert. 

​One of the most powerful elements of the novel is its focus on the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA) and the role it plays in protecting indigenous children from being removed from their communities. Boulley makes it clear that Lucy’s story is not an individual case, but rather part of a larger history of indigenous children being separated from their families through foster care and adoption systems. The inclusion of ICWA helps frame the conversation around what justice and protection should look like, and what happens when the law is ignored or treated as inconvenient. The novel also touches on how institutions and systems like foster care do not always support young people in the ways they are meant to. Through Lucy’s experiences, Boulley highlights how systems designed to protect kids can still fail and leave young people to rely on themselves in situations where they should be supported and cared for. 

This is the kind of novel that would absolutely keep students reading. The pacing is quick, the tension is constant, and every chapter leaves you wanting more. But what makes it worth teaching or recommending is the depth underneath the suspense. It invites readers to think critically about systems of care, the role of law and policy, and the long-term impact of identity being taken away. ​

It's the second weekend of May, and we have another great speculative fiction YA novel for our Weekend Pick! Our contributor this week is Ben Clements. 

​Set twenty-four years before The Hunger Games, Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins tells the story of the second Quarter Quell. A Quarter Quell commemorates twenty-five years of the Games, and each one introduces an “exciting” twist to the rules. In this case, the number of tributes is doubled–from twenty-four to forty-eight competitors. 

Fans of The Hunger Games finally get what they have been long asking for:  a novel about Haymitch’s extraordinary Game, first described in Catching Fire. The book explores the origins of his cynicism and his connections to the Capitol while also examining themes of propaganda, grief, control, resistance, and love. This prequel follows The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes which is set during the tenth Hunger Games with a focus on Coriolanus Snow before he was president of Panem (another great read!). ​

​While reading this novel, I was also teaching Animal Farm by George Orwell and noticed striking thematic parallels. Both works illustrate the manipulative power of propaganda wielded by oppressive governments. Although Collins has explored propaganda before (notably in Mockingjay) she delves even deeper into it here. I don’t usually analyze a novel through a teaching lens while reading, but this time I had to pause and reflect. I even began assembling a text set that currently includes Animal Farm, Sunrise on the Reaping, The Raven, Lord of the Flies, and The Crucible. One key difference, however, lies in the characters’ awareness: in Animal Farm, many remain oblivious to the manipulation, whereas in Sunrise on the Reaping, characters recognize it. 

​Haymitch becomes acutely aware that he is being used by the Capitol to promote a flawed, tactless, and discriminatory agenda. What can he do in response? Alongside other characters, he begins to embrace the idea of rebellion, finding small but meaningful ways to resist. These acts of defiance help lay the groundwork for the original series. However, as often is the case in any dystopian narrative, the government sees more than it reveals and Haymitch is subjected to punishment for his resistance– cruelty that I found deeply appalling. 

​Anyone who knows me knows what The Hunger Games means to me. As a reader reading this book for the first time, I fell in love with the speculative aspect that dystopian fiction offers and The Hunger Games exemplifies that power. Sunrise on the Reaping is no exception; it expands upon the already rich speculation of this dystopian world. While some critics may dismiss this novel as a fan service due to its “returning” characters (younger versions of those introduced in Catching Fire), I would argue–who cares? Seeing these characters in the early stages of the revolution they later bring to fruition in Mockingjay made the story feel even more complete and compelling. And honestly, who doesn’t want more time with their favorite characters? Now we just need more Finnick. To conclude, Sunrise on the Reaping is a phenomenal read that not only provokes thought but also weaves together existing storylines (even explaining why Haymitch was feeding geese in the end of Mockingjay). I’m especially excited for the upcoming film adaptation and look forward to continued discussion of this powerful addition to the series. 

​Beyond spectacular speculation and core character development, Shusterman crafts a narrative that both adult and young adult readers alike can enjoy for its balance between intensity and levity. The question is: If we could simply make ourselves feel all better, what could possibly go wrong in the process?

As we look toward honoring Earth Day next week, Professor Ashlynn Wittchow gives us this YA recommendation that combines environmental concerns and a celebration of queer community in Ryan La Sala's The Dead of Summer. 

​In this ecological horror novel, The Dead of Summer follows Ollie Veltman, a townie, when he returns home to the tourist destination Anchor’s Mercy, an isolated island town rumored to have suffered from an environmental disaster in the early 1960s. Though the tourists are none the wiser, the townspeople have the troubling tendency to develop terminal illnesses. Ollie’s mother, who has been diagnosed with bone cancer, is no exception. However, the grown-ups on the island refuse to discuss these mysterious illnesses, not when the tourism industry on the island depends on rowdy bachelorette parties from the mainland. But it soon becomes impossible to ignore the problem when a seemingly parasitic subspecies of coral, c. imperia, begins to colonize human bodies, triggering an apocalypse on the island. Ollie and his friends must band together to survive the outbreak, uncovering a decades-old conspiracy along the way. 

In fact, ​there were several passages, particularly within the first-person narrative, that brought tears to my eyes.​ It would be easy to dismiss the Weepers, or those infected with c. imperia, as monstrous. La Sala, however, has an uncanny ability to remind his readers that the infected are, nevertheless, human. Though the infected tourists certainly have their monstrous moments—I’m looking at you, Bridezilla—the infected islanders might even be more than human. Several passages seem to suggest that the infected islanders are, at last, embedded within the ecosystem that has nurtured them from infancy. Since this is the first book in a planned duology, I am eager to see how these posthumanist themes continue to unfold in the sequel. La Sala has teased on social media that the forthcoming paperback release will include a sneak peek from the sequel! 

La Sala makes it clear in the acknowledgements that these intergenerational dynamics reflect his deep respect for queer elders, especially those who have fought to create safe havens for future generations. ​

​In the classroom, The Dead of Summer could be used to open conversations about critical consciousness in the horror genre. I have often longed to unpack the social commentary found in horror films with students: Get Out (2017) foregrounds the fetishization of Black bodies, Parasite (2019) dismantles the myth of modern capitalism, and Sinners (2025) draws parallels between vampirism and cultural appropriation. Though these social commentaries have the potential to prompt rich classroom discussion, the (at times) gratuitous violence and sexual content can make horror films next to impossible to teach in the public-school classroom. However, teachers can turn instead to young adult literature to cultivate similar critical conversations. The Dead of Summer, in particular, could be used to cultivate critical conversations about extractive tourism, climate change, and other environmental disasters. 

The Dead of Summer can be purchased in the hardback edition here, but be sure to be on the lookout for the forthcoming paperback edition this summer! 

Spring has sprung and if your YA reading list needs some mystery and suspense then you have come to the right place! Our second Weekend Picks for the month of April is brought to us by Professor Ashlynn Wittchow from Louisiana State University who has a great YA pick for your weekend. 

​ Through these alternating perspectives, it becomes clear that characters are keeping secrets, leaving readers to puzzle over cryptic messages and complex character motivations alike. 

Taught in a classroom setting, The Escape Game practically begs teachers to consider how to incorporate educational escape games into the classroom. Though escape games can be time-consuming to create, there are numerous free templates and resources on the internet, which can help streamline planning for teachers who might be otherwise unfamiliar with cryptograms. In a unit on mystery fiction, teachers might consider creating educational escape games designed to review vocabulary specific to mystery fiction, including red herrings, alibis, and modus operandi. In my own classroom, I have found the prep work to be worth it. There is nothing more thrilling than watching students work together to beat the buzzer, totally unaware how much they are learning in the process! 
 
Don’t miss out on this thrilling new release! The Escape Game can be purchased here. 

While many of us may face challenges teaching a romance or queer text at the center of a unit, this is an excellent book to provide students for free reading or choice reading projects. In a choice reading projects, some analysis opportunities include: 

• Consider how the characters develop over time through relationships. How do these interactions among peers allow for growth and more deep portrayals of characters? What “layers” do you see in the characters that make them more complex?
• Identify the aspects of the romance genre in the text. How does the book apply conventional romance tropes? How is it different from many romance traditions?
• Examine how community and belonging play a role in Charlie’s development throughout the novel. How does his connection to his classmates allow him to better understand and accept himself?
• Reflect on how the story presents queerness. How does Charlie’s identity shape the story? How might the story show the process of embracing queer identities? How does the novel emphasize queer joy instead of centering queer pain?

It's the last weekend of March, and Dan Stockwell brings us his final Weekend Pick for the month.