LARS'S LIBRARY: THREE RECOMMENDATIONS

For fifth graders and up:

After Tupac and D Foster by Jacqueline Woodson

A name only tells us the title, not the story. That depends on who's telling it. Jacqueline Woodson is a virtuoso story-teller.

In her After Tupac and D Foster, Tupac Shakur is a name that means different things. To a judge, it's the name of a hoodlum with "Thug Life" tattooed on his stomach. To the three girls whose lives Woodson traces from the time they are eleven to the age of thirteen—1994 to 1996—it's the name of a hero.

Certainly, it's a name of renown. The narrator of After Tupac—never named—says the reason Tupac is so popular is "because we black and we kids and he's black and he's just a kid...." She and her neighbor Neeka have comfortable and secure lives in Queens.

D enters that neighborhood from somewhere else, somewhere without a name, somewhere hard and dangerous. D, a name that is an alibi, says, "I see Tupac rapping and I see he got the same look that I got—like we both know what it feels like to be that hungry...."

In two years while Tupac's career rockets to massive success, while his personal life plummets through courts, jails, and bullets until his life is snuffed out, the girls search for their own identities. D's two close friends discover that D is more than what she is named, and that they are, too.

Race is all about naming. We can see we are different, so we put a name on it. Black kids might see themselves in After Tupac, and white kids might not. Telling a powerful and compelling coming-of-age tale in an eloquent and insightful manner, Woodson shows us that however we are named, we have stories that are universal.

For third graders and up:

Keepers of the School, Book One: We the Children by Andrew Clements

Coming in at under 150 rapidly-paced pages, We the Children, the first of the Keepers of the School series, will grab hold of hesitant literary types and leave them anxious for more.

The illustrations that break up those pages truly complement the novel. Adam Stower's three-toned drawings are reminiscent of Clements’s frequent collaborator, Brian Selznick, with a retro feel not unlike the work of Marla Frazee in the Clementine books.

Just because We the Children's volume is slight and easy to read does not mean it is superficial. Its hero Ben Pratt—and he is a hero—is a complex sixth-grader, savvy but not always sure, measured but sometimes mercurial. His friend Jill Acton is the perfect foil, down-to-earth, practical, and a serious scholar, yet ready for adventure.

Even minor characters are three-dimensional. The book kicks off with a bang—a mysterious death—and doesn't stop moving until it ends with a life saved.

Weaving through it all is a theme of appreciation for old things—balustrades and newels, brass hinges, and, critically, a beautiful compass rose inlaid into the hardwood floors of Oakes School. On the flyleaf, Clements comments on the "satisfying and sort of comforting" connection he has to these "little chunks of history." It's a marvelous way to unobtrusively ground a story that fairly rushes along.

For first graders and up:

Elephant and Piggie series by Mo Willems

If you know Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus—and it would be hard not to if you know a little one—you know that Mo Willems is a master of minimalism. He effortlessly packs a wealth of comedy into the simplest text and illustration.

Now he gone one step further with text that is accessible to emerging readers. Using mostly phonetic, one-syllable words, and lots of repetition, the Elephant and Piggie stories are delightfully witty—for children, and for their parents, too. There are twelve so far, and each one is a winner.

Look for the nod to the pigeon on the back inside covers.