children's books about emotional trauma

A Notes from the Windowsill annotated bibliography by Wendy E. Betts. Copyright 2006, 2007, 2008

Click on the book covers for more publisher's information or to order from Powell's Books.

A note to our readers: We guarantee that absolutely no payment is accepted from any bookstore, publisher, author or any other agency, for inclusion of a review in Notes from the Windowsill or for any special notice given to any book.

Last Updated 01/22/08

Picture Books

Kids Need to Be Safe by Julie Nelson. Illustrated by Mary Gallagher. Free Spirit, 2006 (9778-1-456-4288-7)

This book intended for children in foster care keeps things simple and direct. "Foster parents take care of children when parents need help. Foster parents have a bed and food and toys for children. Foster parents keep kids safe. Kids are important. Kids need to be safe." The last two lines are repeated over and over throughout the book, a mantra child readers will hopefully take to heart. Without placing blame on parents--"sometimes moms and dads need to solve big problems"--the book briefly describes some of the reasons kids might need to be in foster care, and some of the difficult feelings they might have about it, but keeps its focus on that message: "Kids are important. Kids need to be safe." The general tone will make this a good springboard for discussions; it might be helpful for kids who have friends in foster care as well. I only wish it had included some advice for children who still feel threatened in their foster homes. (4-10)

Fiction, 5-12

Halfway to the Sky by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley. Delacorte, 2002; Dell Yearling, 2003 (0-440-41830-5) $4.99 pb

When twelve-year-old Dani runs away from home she doesn't expect to be found--in fact, she doesn't even much expect to be missed. Since the death of her older brother Springer and the departure of her father, her mother has been busy or absent most of the time, and running away is only too easy. Dani's goal is an ambitious one: to hike the entire Appalachian Trail, from the mountain her brother was named for to the one she, Katahdin, was named for. But when her mother finds her on her second day out and joins her, Dani's solitary adventure changes to a journey that brings new knowledge about her mother and father, her dead brother and herself. An original and well-crafted plot brings freshness to some otherwise familiar themes. (8 & up)

Mama Loves Me from Away by Pat Brison. Illustrated by Laurie Caple. Boyds Mill, 2004 (1-56397-966-7) $15.95

Sugar loves her mom's stories, especially the one about how she was born on Mama's birthday. "You're the best present I ever had," Mama always says. But this birthday, Mama isn't there--she's in jail. Sugar makes a card for her, but she knows Mama won't be able to shop. Still, she can't imagine a birthday without a present from Mama...

This tender story concentrates entirely on the relationship between Sugar and her mama; jail is never mentioned, only depicted, and we are never told why Sugar's mom is there. All we know is the sadness of a loving family forced apart, and that though Sugar's mom is young, freespirited and likes to party, she is clearly a wonderful mother. Realistic illustrations show their history together, as told in mama's stories, as well as the bittersweet reunions of other families at the jail. (7 & up)

The Good Liar by Gregory Maguire. Clarion, 1999 (0-395-90697-0) $15.00; HarperTrophy, 2002 (0-06-440874-4) $5.95 pb

After the German army occupied France in World War II, some of the French resisted and some became collaborators. But as Marcel Delarue remembers, "many more of the French people, my family among them, appeared merely to live out the war hoping to squeak through unnoticed and unharmed." Growing up in a small village in occupied France, Marcel and his brothers Rene and Pierre are aware of some privations, but otherwise the war doesn't interfere much with their childhood pursuits--especially their favorite game of seeing who can lie the most creatively and plausibly. When Marcel meets a friendly German soldier, who reminds him a little of his absent father, there doesn't seem any real harm in spending time with him; he's even proud of keeping such a big secret, a splendid "extended lie." But things in his village aren't exactly as Marcel thinks they are, and to his horror, he learns that his secret friendship could be a dangerous one.

Stories about childhoods lost through war aren't new; what makes The Good Liar so interesting is that it shows the precise moment in which a child passes from ignorance to awareness, suddenly forced to comprehend "too much doom for a child to imagine." Marcel is not exactly a hero, in the sense that, say, the characters in Lois Lowry's Number the Stars or Jane Yolen's The Devil's Arithmetic are, but in a way, that makes his story more meaningful; his newfound understanding, with its accompanying confusion and ambiguities, is a very believable and sympathetic portrait of what it's like for ordinary kids to face terrors: "innocent, stupid, trusting, lying, needy, loving kids.... Like you."

Through the simple device of having an adult Marcel write his story at the request of three contemporary schoolchildren, Maguire easily draws readers into this book, despite the foreign tone that might otherwise have made it less accessible. It reads like being told a story by a favorite uncle: somehow both romantically far away, and very close to home.

The Taxi Navigator by Richard Mosher. Putnam, 1996; Paperstar, 1998 (0-698-11658-5) $4.99 pb

A welcome change from bleak realism, this is an appealing book about finding joy amid despair, and the unexpected people who show up give you a hand. Kid Kyle, who doesn't get to see his parents much, loves to navigate in the front seat of his Uncle Hank's taxi. Uncle Hank seems to understand things so much better than his parents do, and adventures, both sad and funny, always seem to happen in his cab. When Kyle and Hank meet Marcella, one of a group of self-proclaimed witches, Kyle finds a surrogate family in the fun-loving old woman, her beautiful neighbor Lydia, and Lydia's seven year old daughter, a stubborn, ornery, "tiny red scowl of a girl" named Ruby. And when his mom and dad start fighting--and his dad starts hitting his mom--it's good to have the refuge of his uncle's cab and the home of the three witches to turn to.

It's not that those places are safe from tragedy--some passengers are drunk and/or crazy; Lydia still limps from having been pushed off a tower by Ruby's father; Marcella's health is precarious--but they're full of warmth and hope. And warmth and hope are just what Kyle needs, as he prepares himself to face his parents' fights and Marcella's eminent death by relying on her advice: "whenever... the struggle wears you out and you need new strength, you can fly back here, to this roof, in a second. To the night sky and the river flowing past. Whenever you need to feel stronger, in you mind you can return to the roof and the river, and then you'll be able to face things."

The Taxi Navigator isn't a fantasy, but seems to go out of its way to feel like one. Everything that happens is essentially believable, but just odd enough to give a sense of possibilities. Even the uneven voice of the narrator, who sometimes seems far older than his years, adds to the (mostly pleasant) off-balance feel of the story. But its main triumph is depicting so many sad realities, without ever losing sight of humor and joy. (8-12)

Young Adult Books

The set-up--teenage girl goes to live with completely unknown biological father after her two lesbian mothers are killed by a truck carrying Turducken--seems to be aiming for the surreal, but this story is well grounded in the realities of grief.

Rosalind and her "father" Sean have never met, though he knows her a little better than she realizes: as a one-time donor for two women he admired, he felt unable to take on the responsibility of being a father to her, but has kept tabs on her life. Now Rosalind is parentless and Sean, also left motherless at a young age, feels both empathy for her and a yearning to do something meaningful with his somewhat empty life. As Rosalind struggles through the mix of pain, numbness and anger that has become her life, Sean struggles to deal with being the parent of of a hostile, rebellious teenager who can't forgive him for not being her moms.

Told through a "grief journal," emails, and recordings from school conferences, this is a poignant story that also astutely uncovers the kind of biting humor that arises from situations of deep pain. Although parts of the story don't always ring true--particularly Sean's almost instantly deep and unconditional love for an almost stranger who is being an utter shit to him--it is compulsively readable. Donorboy wasn't published as a YA book and includes (gasp!) adult perspectives, not to mention the word "fuck" around every other sentence, but mature teen readers will undoubtedly take it to their hearts. (14 & up)

The Tulip Touch by Anne Fine. Little, Brown, 1997 (0-316-28325-8) $15.95; Laurel-Leaf, 1999 (0-440-22785-2) $4.99 pb

"I heard a lot of discussion in the wake of the Polly Klaas murder from parents worrying about how they could prevent their child from becoming another Polly... I heard no discussion at all from parents worrying about how to prevent their child from becoming another Richard Allen Davis." -- Jon Carroll

Winner of the Whitbread award for children's book of the year, The Tulip Touch is a complex, often horrifying, but very personal indictment of the way a society fails its children. The story is narrated by Natalie, as she looks back on the painful memories of her friendship with a troubled girl named Tulip--not just any friendship, but an obsessive love-hate relationship that inevitably led to corruption and betrayal.

Tulip is mean, a troublemaker and a compulsive liar--so much so that Natalie's father dubs the offbeat details she puts into her stories, "the Tulip Touch." But she's also very exciting to be with, constantly making up "games" with names like Stinking Mackerel--making strangers think that they smell bad--or Babe in the Woods--taking Natalie's little brother to the woods and then vanishing. Natalie worries about some of Tulip's games, but she's addicted to the excitement of her presence, only half alive when Tulip isn't around. And in a strange way, she also feels responsible for her, simply because she's the only person who seems to care whether Tulip lives or dies.

In a compelling, suspenseful narrative, Natalie describes how she eventually broke free from Tulip's corrupting influence, after years of being her sidekick and stooge--rejecting the excitement of the "games" when they start to get truly dangerous and she realizes that "other people's feelings aren't dice, or checkers." But Tulip is not so easy to get rid of, and she is even more dangerous as an enemy than a friend.

Natalie's heartbreaking story is filled with questions. What made Tulip what she is? Is she evil by nature or just horribly damaged by her brutal father and lifeless mother? Could anything have been done to save her? And most importantly, why did the adults in Tulip's life do nothing for her--why was it all left on the shoulders of a child? Telling the story with a mixture of anger and guilt and never denying her own complicity in Tulip's betrayal, Natalie forces us to think about how people can stand by watching while a child turns into a sociopath. This is a book that readers of all ages will find hard to forget. * (10 & up)

Do Angels Sing the Blues? by A.C. LeMieux. Tambourine, 1995 (0-688-13725-3) $14.00

James "Boogie Man" Buglioni and Theo Stone have been friends for years, a friendship deepened when they discover the blues together and form a band. Then Carey Harrigan walks into their history class, "dressed like a walking tag sale," and Boog sees Theo look at her "with that same look on his face he'd had the first time he saw me--like he'd spotted someone outside the lifeboat, and was mentally winding up to toss them a rope and haul them in."

Theo is right--Carey is outside the lifeboat, too sensitive and vulnerable to cope with her troubled life. As Theo becomes more deeply involved with Carey, and their band begins to suffer, Boog has to struggle with jealousy, anger and a fear that Theo is trying to do too much for her: "I think life is a pull yourself up by your bootstrap operation. We're all on our own." But only after tragedy hits and Boog is faced with a terrible loss does he realize that his fears for Theo just reflected his own fear of getting too involved with people, of risking too much by letting himself really care about them. Smoothly narrated by Boog, this is not an especially original treatment of a familiar theme, but it is a strong and often poignant novel. The characterization of Carey--gifted and loving yet terribly weak and insecure--is especially heartwrenching and the ultimate message is life-affirming and powerful.

Monster by Walter Dean Myers. Illustrations by Christopher Myers. HarperCollins, 1999 (0-06-028077-8) $15.95

"Sunset said he liked the name of the screenplay. He said when he gets out, he will have the word MONSTER tattooed on his forehead. I feel like I already have it tattooed on mine."

"Monsters" are what prosecutor Sandra Petrocelli has labeled the defendants in a murder case, including a black teenager named Steve Harmon. For Steve, an enthusiastic student filmmaker, awaiting trial in jail is like walking into a movie, "a strange movie with no plot and no beginning." "I have seen movies of prisons but never one like this," he writes in his journal. "This is not a movie about bars and locked doors. It is about being alone when you are not really alone and about being scared all the time." And to help him get through this time, and maybe make sense of it, he decides to write his experiences as if they were a screenplay for a movie: "Monster." Through the screenplay, interspersed with Steve's journal entries, the sobering story of his trial unfolds. This juxtaposition of styles seems pointless at first: most of the emotional thrust of the books seems to be the journal entries, in which Steve observes the dehumanizing process that the legal system is using against him. Even the relationship between him and his father is changing: "What was going on between us, me being his son and him being my dad, is pushed down and something else is moving up in its place. It's like a man looking down to see his son and seeing a monster instead." Only towards the end does it become clear that Steve has been using the screenplay format to express things he can't bear to admit, even to himself. Whatever the outcome of the trial, he will never be the same. Monster is a sad and scary book, with a build-up of suspense that becomes almost unbearable. But it's the ideas that we, like Steve, are left to ponder that really make it worth reading. *

Freaky Green Eyes by Joyce Carol Oates. HarperTempest, 2003 (0-06-623759-9) $16.99

Alone at a party, fourteen-year-old tomboy Franky Pierson decides to try on a new role, as girly Francesa. But when an older boy's interest turns to violent attack, a whole new Franky is born--Freaky Green Eyes, a fighter and a survivor. Franky doesn't know it yet, but Freaky will needed a lot in the months that follow, when her mother's suspicious disappearance will force her to make the hardest decision of her life. A suspenseful yet achingly sad story about finding ones path.

A Very Personal Computer by Justine Rendal. HarperCollins, 1995 (0-06-025404-1) $14.95

Hit almost simultaneously with three tremendous losses--his mother, his dog and his best friend--twelve-year-old Pollard finds it hard to care about school, making new friends or much of anything. His father ignores him, his grandfather keeps calling him Vincenzo, his favorite team keeps losing, and the only kids who seem interested in him are weirdos who'll ruin his reputation. Then he discovers Conner, a computer program with some very unusual functions. Describing itself as a "Compensatory Program," Conner not only chats with Pollard and does his homework, but also takes him into virtual reality, where simulations show him how to become a better ball-player, what it's like to go on a date--and even the painful secrets he's blocked away in his own mind. Finally realizing just how withdrawn and lonely he's become, Pollard begins to reach out and discovers that being a weirdo--or a weirdo's friend--may not be so terrible after all.

Although the premise sounds like an exercise in wish-fulfillment, A Very Personal Computer is actually a rather sombre and quite touching look at childhood loneliness and depression. Not all of it appealed it me, particularly the ubiquitous colloquial "so sue me" narrative, but I felt great empathy with the climax of Pollard's misery, which has him quite literally howling to the moon in despair. The bittersweet ending also moved me to tears. But ultimately this is an encouraging story, with a sympathetic message about struggling though problems even when you're not gifted with a magical computer program.

Tribes by Arthur Slade. Wendy Lamb, 2002 (0-385-73003-9) $15.95

Since the loss of his anthropologist father, Percy Montmount Jr. has lived as an anthropologist himself: he is an observer and analyzer, keeping copious notes on the tribes and rituals of high school. His close friend Elissa joins him in noting such fascinating specimens as "The Jock Tribe, "The Gee-the-Seventies-Were-Great-Even-Though-I-Wasn't Born-Yet Tribe" and "The Madonna Cult." ("I thought they were extinct.") But what Elissa sees as fun has become a complete way of life for Percy, keeping him scarily distanced from other people--and as we slowly discover, keeping him safe from facts he is unable to face.

Tribes reminded me a little of James Deem's 3 NBs of Julian Drew, in that in both books, the nature of the protagonist's problem strongly affects his narrative. In this case, Percy's incessant use of anthro-speak is at first distancing and tiresome, but there were enough hints of underlying tensions to keep me reading. And despite ultimate revelations which make the story seem a little manipulative and implausible, this is a interesting portrait of a boy's unusual reaction to great emotional pain.

Dancing Pink Flamingos and Other Stories by Maria Testa. Lerner, 1995 (0-8225-0738-2) $13.13; Avon, 1997 (0-380-72929-6) $3.99 pb

One of life's strongest--and scariest--turning points is our first realization that we can make decisions with irrevocable consequences. These sombre, sparsely written stories look at the lives of adolescents facing violent conflicts, and their sometimes hopeful, sometimes tragic responses to them. For each character, making a decision--to betray or not to betray a criminal, to hold someone's knife, to flirt with a teacher--means entering a new world from which there is no turning back. But there are few obvious rights and wrongs here--no big moral proclamations, just an insightful sharing of life's pain and uncertainty. Written simply enough to be accessible to below average readers, these stories are also thought-provoking enough to attract a wide audience. Excellent for classroom reading. (10 & up)

Welcome to the Ark by Stephanie S. Tolan. Morrow, 1996 (0-688-13724-5); Beech Tree, 1998 (0-688-15861-7) $4.95 pb

When four lonely, misfit kids are brought together in an experimental program called the Ark--an attempt to help highly intelligent children make connections with others--they discover that together, their minds form a powerful, psychic force. Can they use it to conquer their own despair and challenge the world's pandemic of hatred and violence? Intensely emotionally resonant, this story is a fantastical yet deeply hopeful look at the human need to connect with and care about others. (10 & up)

The Killer's Cousin by Nancy Werlin. Delacorte, 1998 (0-385-32560-6) $15.95; Laurel-Leaf, 2000 (0-440-22751-8) $4.99

Acquitted of the murder of his girlfriend Emily, but still under a heavy burden of guilt, seventeen-year-old David Yaffe is sent to live with relatives to "get back on track" to normal life. It's hardly a normal household though: since the suicide of their eldest daughter, his aunt and uncle only speak to each other through their eleven year old daughter Lily, and Lily obviously relishes the situation and resents any interference. Something else is odd about the house, too: strange noises and shadows haunt his room, almost like a reminder of some female presence.

David's stay becomes more and more uncomfortable, as his aunt and uncle begin to thaw towards one another, setting off a vengeful, destructive fury in Lily. David is the only one who sees anything wrong, perhaps because only he really knows what children are capable of. "Greg and Emily and I had been kids too. Being under eighteen didn't mean you were innocent. Or harmless." As he begins to recognize the strange psychological kinship he has with his young cousin, David also realizes that the presence in his room is trying to give him a message: "help Lily." He is the only one who can understand Lily--but can he save her?

A compelling mix of problem novel and thriller, The Killer's Cousin explores a frightening truth: that when it comes to certain deeds, guilt or innocence are not only very indistinct concepts, but are almost irrelevant. Even the most unintended action can put a person across a line he never dreamed he could cross--and once that line is crossed, innocence is not enough. But as Werlin shows, in an ending that offers poignant surprises, even those trapped forever on the other side can find inner strength and hope for redemption. This is a powerfully touching and thought-provoking novel, hard to put down and impossible to forget. * (12 & up)

Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger. Simon & Schuster, 1999 (0-689-82134-4) $16.95; Pulse, 2001 (0-689-84154-X) $8 trade pb.

Wittlinger's Lombardo's Law was most memorable for lightly exploring a stereotype-defying teenage experience. Hard Love again looks at areas of teenage life which are generally either ignored or exploited by the mainstream, this time with far more depth and power.

"I am immune to emotion," John writes at the beginning of his story. He's had to be, since his parents' divorce left him with a father who won't talk to him and a mother who shies away from even accidentally touching him. But John's not as immune as he thinks he is; his need to communicate comes out, albeit inadvertently, in his zine Bananafish, and he connects to others through their zines--especially Marisol, a self-proclaimed "Puerto Rican Cuban Yankee Cambridge, Massachusetts, rich spoiled lesbian private-school gifted-and-talented writer virgin looking for love," whose writing makes him feel like "I'm looking down through layer after layer of her, until I'm looking more deeply inside this person I don't even know than I've ever looked inside myself."

After John tracks Marisol down--and manages to convince her that he's not looking for a girlfriend--their friendship quickly becomes something important to both of them; she is perhaps as lonely and suspicious of human contact as he is. But as John's protective shell against emotion begins to crack, he discovers that he wants more from Marisol than he realized... more than she will ever be able to give him.

Through John's narrative, and the writing of the other zine creators he encounters--appropriately designed with distinctive fonts and graphics--Hard Love authentically captures the feel of the personal zine and the honesty, intelligence and unwitting innocence of the young people who write them. The characters are just as familiar and believable: John, who thinks he only writes his zine to be funny and is almost aghast when people find it poignant; Marisol, whose passionate belief in honesty doesn't stop her from being very conscious of her ranking on the "exotic scale" and her role as a lesbian; Diana Tree, author of the zine No Regrets, whom Marisol writes off as "a granola-head," but who has learned a lot about surviving pain. But the best thing about Hard Love is that it never treats zine writing as the latest sexy topic; like its subject, it feels sincere, touching, intelligent and hopeful.

Nonfiction

Been to Yesterdays by Lee Bennett Hopkins. Illustrated by Charlene Rendeiro. Boyds Mill, 1995 (1-56397-467-3) $14.95; 1999 (1-56397-808-3) $8.95 pb

Starting with a photographer's image of "The five of us--A picture-perfect family," Been to Yesterdays traces, in poetry, the poignant story of a boy whose world is falling apart, yet who holds on to his dreams and memories in order to "make this world a whole lot brighter," someday. Based on Hopkins' own childhood, these poems--some almost doggerel, others much more sophisticated--have an immediacy and believability that makes their simple words very vivid, as in his first realization that his family is in trouble:

                "Something wrong is happening
                An aching
                burning
                something-thing.
                I don't know
                what it is
                or why--
                it won't
                leave me along
                no matter
                how
                I
                try."

Back to the Notes from the Windowsill Flipside Families bibliography.

Back to the Notes from the Windowsill Home Page.