Mystery as Mentor Text: Isle of Ever by Jen Calonita

Meet our Contributor:

Dr. Melanie Hundley is a Professor in the Practice of English Education at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College; her research examines how AI, digital and multimodal composition informs the development of pre-service teachers’ writing pedagogy.  Additionally, she explores the use of AI, digital and social media in young adult literature.  She teaches writing methods courses that focus on AI, digital and multimodal composition and young adult literature courses that explore diversity, culture, and storytelling in young adult texts. She teaches AI and literacy courses including AI and Storytelling. Her current research focus has three strands: AI in writing, AI in Teacher Education, and Verse Novels in Young Adult Literature She is currently the Coordinator of the Secondary Education English Education program in the Department of Teaching and Learning at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College.

Mystery as Mentor Text: Isle of Ever by Jen Calonita by Melanie Hundley

The novel, Isle of Ever, opens with a snippet from a journal entry.  It says,
 
The tide brought in many
things, but this was the
first time it brought a person… (Calonita, p. 1)

The opening line of a novel is an invitation and a promise; it creates the moment when a reader decides whether to step fully into a story’s world or to set the book aside. Opening lines create magic.  A compelling first sentence doesn’t just introduce plot or character; it creates intrigue, establishes tone, and sparks that magical something that pulls a reader into a story. In that single line, an author can pose a question, hint at conflict, or offer a voice so vivid it demands to be followed, proving that the beginning of a story is often where a reader’s commitment is won.  As teachers, we know those books that have those compelling first lines.  We foreground those books in book talks, use those sentences as mentor texts, and highlight them as examples of powerful first lines.

Jen Calonita is one of those writers who create those first lines that pull a reader in—her stories are master classes in attention-grabbing hooks. The opening lines for Fairy Godmother, for example, sweep us into the world of Disney’s Cinderella by focusing on the blue dress:

Well, she’d done one thing right. Blue, it was clear, was the girl’s color.

To call the gown blue, however, was doing it a disservice. The color was more a cross between azure and cyan.  Brighter than a clear summer day, the tone was practically luminescent, the exact shade of the girl’s eyes, which, Renee thought, getting misty, were the same shade as her mother’s.  In fact, it was Ella’s mother’s gown she’d transformed that night.  Was she watching this all from somewhere in the universe? (p. 1)
​
Calonita, Jen. (2024). Fairy Godmother. Disney Hyperion.

That hook reminds us of the Disney movie but then shifts our focus from the dress to the creator of the dress. 

This past fall, I worked with a group of students who wanted to write their own mystery story.  We used Isle of Ever as our mentor text.  I explained that this was a book we were going to read two ways—as a reader and as a writer.  They decided that a reader reads to enjoy, to feel, and to explore.  A writer, they said, reads “kind of like a doctor” and looks for how a story works. A writer wants to see how “the bones and blood and guts” of a story come together. 

Isle of Ever opens with a journal entry that grabs our attention as readers.  Visually, we are aware that the lines are a snippet from something old.  The lines are in a gray box that is centered on the page.  As readers, we wonder, who wrote this? Who came in on the tide? What else does the tide bring in? Immediately, we are set up for a mystery.  This novel is a fast-paced adventure that blends history, mystery, and high-stakes puzzles. Days after her twelfth birthday, Everly “Benny” Benedict learns she is the heir to a vast fortune left by a mysterious ancestor from the 1800s, but only if she can win a game built on centuries-old clues. Calonita’s rich language and carefully layered riddles guide readers through a shadowy mansion, diary entries, and legends of an island that vanished two hundred years ago and appears only once every two centuries. As Benny races against time, with just days to solve the clues, break an ancient curse, and save her and her mom from poverty, the tension mounts as hints of danger and the presence of others who will stop at nothing to claim the island’s secrets. 

But, back to hooks and language that pulls us into a story. The prologue to Isle of Ever situates us as the reader in the past. It introduces a time period that will become important; it also introduces to Sparrow and her friends.
 
            “Race you to the island, Sparrow!” Gilbert Monroe shouted as he ran ahead of me down the wet path, sand and dirt kicking up behind him. Rain was still misting after the storm. “I’m going to beat you!”

            “No, you’re not!” I ran faster, thundering down the rocky path, laughing as the bucket I carried for shells banged against my bare legs.  I could hear the others behind us—Aggy, Thomas, and Laurel, taking bets on who would be victorious in making it to our island first.

            It would be me. It is always me. (Calonita, pp.1-2)

As a teacher, what I love about this passage is how much we learn about the setting and characters from just a few sentences.  This past fall, I worked with a group of middle school students on writing a story.  One of their big struggles was how to introduce their characters. Mikey, one of the seventh graders, said, “I know we are supposed to do the whole show not tell thing, but I don’t actually know what that looks like.”  We used this passage and I asked, What do you know about the characters?  The students explained that they knew the names, that Sparrow was competitive and liked to run, that Gilbert liked to race, and that they lived somewhere with a beach.  They highlighted the places where they learned these details and then tried some of those same structures in their own writing. One student said, “It started with an action sentence and a name.”  Another student said, “One part had two short sentences on a single line. The big idea in the first sentence was repeated bigger in the second sentence.” While the students are not yet naming the rhetorical devices that they are noticing, they are beginning to read like writers and using the work of writers they like as mentors.

Chapter Two opens with the following passage:
 
     Benny knew what an inheritance was—someone had left her money or a boat or a car (at least that’s how it worked on Lawyered Up), but the question was who? Nobody Benny knew had money, but her mom seemed excited to hear the details, and Sal had said, “Kid, your’re going to be rich.”

     Benny wasn’t so sure. What did this lawyer mean by “a fortune”? Did it have to do with whoever her father was? Benny had more questions than answers as she climbed the stairs to their sweltering apartment.

     Sal had given her mom a couple of hours off so that she and Benny could meet with Peter Stapleton of Fineman, Larken, and Burr to discuss this inheritance business in private. (Calonita, p. 19)

This passage gives us as readers insight into Benny’s home life, her worries, and the future mystery.  As a mentor text passage, it offers students a way to show concerns and worries, a way to show a character’s internal concerns. In just a few lines, Calonita layers multiple craft elements that deepen characterization while quietly building tension and controlling pacing. Benny’s voice is established immediately through her comparison of real life to Lawyered Up, a detail that signals her age, humor, and reliance on pop culture to make sense of the world. Benny’s voice comes through immediately in her reference to Lawyered Up, a detail that grounds her age, sense of humor, and worldview while revealing how she tries to make sense of unfamiliar situations. The brief, direct questions, What did this lawyer mean by “a fortune”? Did it have to do with whoever her father was? slow the moment and invite readers into Benny’s internal worries, allowing tension to build without overt explanation.

At the same time, Calonita anchors those thoughts in physical movement, using Benny’s climb up the stairs to their “sweltering apartment” to reinforce the family’s financial stress and keep the scene moving forward. The inclusion of specific names and institutions—Mom, Sal, Peter Stapleton, Fineman, Larken, and Burr—adds authenticity and raises the stakes, signaling that this mystery is real, complicated, and potentially life-altering. As a mentor text, this passage models how writers can reveal character through voice and thought, build tension through unanswered questions, and manage pacing by balancing interior reflection with purposeful action.

Building tension and creating suspense is challenging for novice writers.  Benny is suspicious of all that she is hearing. As the lawyer is explaining the inheritance to Benny and her mom, she has a moment of remembrance, of connection that pulls the reader into her childhood and into the potential excitement of the inheritance.
 
     Benny felt a prickling on the back of her neck and suddenly remembered something her grandmother used to tell her. Someday, Benny, your ship is going to come in. You’re going to have a bigger adventure than all of us, Guppy. Just you wait. Benny didn’t understand what she meant by that, but now she wondered: Did Grams mean this moment? Did Grams know the prediction? Was it really possible their ancestor Evelyn Terry had been waiting for Benny to be born, play the game, and collect the inheritance? Her? (Calonita, p.25)

When the students talked about this passage, they noticed the use of italics, the multiple questions, and the use of a memory to move the plot forward. They also noticed how much pressure is suddenly on Benny.  She is now responsible for figuring everything out so she can get the inheritance.  As writers, they tried out adding italics and questions to their writing. The shift into Benny’s remembered words--Someday, Benny, your ship is going to come in—uses italics to signal a change in time and voice, visually cueing readers that the past is pressing into the present. That memory does more than reveal backstory; it reframes the inheritance as something foretold, raising both emotional and narrative stakes. The rapid-fire questions that follow mirror Benny’s spiraling thoughts and quicken the tension, inviting readers to share in her uncertainty and growing sense of responsibility. In just a few lines, Calonita moves the plot forward while placing new weight on Benny’s shoulders, transforming curiosity into pressure. As a mentor text, this passage shows students how suspense can be built through strategic formatting, purposeful questions, and meaningful memories that deepen character while propelling the story ahead.

Isle of Ever ends with a compelling hook as well.
 
            “Welcome to the island, Everly Benedict,” Aggy said. “We’ve been waiting for you a very long time.” (Calonita, p. 324)

The last line of the novel reminds us of the opening line and sets up the sequel. Isle of Ever and its sequel The Curse Breaker are both exciting books to read and strong mentor texts for students. 

Jen Calonita continues to be one of my favorite authors to use with novice writers. Passages from each chapter can serve as mentor texts for writers. Each entry point, whether it is a journal snippet, a prologue, riddles, or memories model different ways to hook a reader while quietly layering setting, conflict, and emotion. For novice writers, this offers concrete, accessible structures they can study and try out in their own writing: beginning with action, embedding character traits in movement, using short lines for emphasis, introducing mystery through unanswered questions, and revealing interiority through thought. In this way, Isle of Ever becomes more than a compelling novel; it becomes a living classroom text that teaches students how stories work, how language carries meaning, and how a single opening choice can shape a reader’s love of story.