Too Bright to See: (Newbery Honor Award Winner) by Kyle Lukoff (English) Paperba

Description: Too Bright to See by Kyle Lukoff Includes excerpt from Different kinds of fruit. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description A National Book Award Finalist"A gentle, glowing wonder, full of love and understanding." -The New York Times Book ReviewA Newbery Honor Book . Winner of the Stonewall Book Award . A National Book Award Finalist"A gentle, glowing wonder, full of love and understanding." -The New York Times Book ReviewIts the summer before middle school and eleven-year-old Bugs best friend Moira has decided the two of them need to use the next few months to prepare. For Moira, this means figuring out the right clothes to wear, learning how to put on makeup, and deciding which boys are cuter in their yearbook photos than in real life. But none of this is all that appealing to Bug, who doesnt particularly want to spend more time trying to understand how to be a girl. Besides, theres something more important to worry about- A ghost is haunting Bugs eerie old house in rural Vermont...and maybe haunting Bug in particular. As Bug begins to untangle the mystery of who this ghost is and what theyre trying to say, an altogether different truth comes to light--Bug is transgender. Author Biography Kyle Lukoff is the author of many books for young readers. His debut middle-grade novel, Too Bright To See, received a Newbery honor, the Stonewall award, and was a National Book Award finalist. His picture book When Aidan Became A Brother also won the Stonewall. He has forthcoming books about mermaids, babies, apologies, and lots of other topics. While becoming a writer he worked as a bookseller for ten years, and then nine more years as a school librarian. Review NATIONAL BOOK AWARD FINALIST"This book is a gentle, glowing wonder, full of love and understanding, full of everything any of us would wish for our children. It will almost certainly be banned in many places, but your child almost certainly needs to read it." –The New York Times Book Review"A tender portrayal of a kid who is just coming to understand who he is." –TIME… "This coming-of-age and coming-out story takes a needed departure from other stories about transgender youth....A chilling, suspenseful ghost story balances the intimate, introspective narrative style.…Haunting and healing." –Kirkus, starred review … "Smart and thought-provoking.... Through Bugs journey to self-realization and self-acceptance, and the wonderfully nuanced understanding of gender he comes to, Lukoff provides a tender rumination on grief, love, and identity." –Publishers Weekly, starred review… "Equal parts unsettling, heartwarming, and satisfying…a nuanced and compelling exploration of gender, friendship, and family." –Booklist, starred review… "Lukoffs three primary themes—gender identity, grief, and ghostly hauntings—work in elegant harmony despite the load. Lukoff navigates Bugs journey of identity and discovery with grace, welcoming...A hopeful examination of grief and gender, and a good ghost story to boot." –School Library Journal, starred review… "Lukoff combines gothic horror vibes with a slow-building trans awakening…The spooks and mysteries are an added bonus that sets this narrative apart from similar titles." — BCCB… "While gender identity remains prominent throughout, Lukoff also combines pitch-perfect adolescent angst, evolving friendships and spooky encounters to create a welcoming story accessible to young readers of all backgrounds." — Shelf Awareness"When we talk about wanting to see a diverse range of books for kids, this is precisely what we should be thinking of.... Smart. Original. Necessary. " –Betsy Bird, Fuse8 "Bugs first-person, present-tense narration gives readers a close look at his sense that things dont quite fit….and his gradual understanding of why that is." –The Horn Book"A much-needed book about the acceptance of a transgender boy who finds the support he needs from his family, his best friend, and eventually his friends at school." –School Library ConnectionBoston Globe Best Book of 2021TIME Best Childrens Book of 2021Washington Post Best Childrens Book of 2021New York Public Library Best Book for Kids of 2021 Chicago Public Library Best of the Best Book for 2021 NPR Best Book of 2021 PW Best Book of 2021Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2021Kirkus Best Book of 2021School Library Journal Best Book of 2021 Review Quote Six starred reviews "This book is a gentle, glowing wonder, full of love and understanding , full of everything any of us would wish for our children. It will almost certainly be banned in many places, but your child almost certainly needs to read it ." - The New York Times Book Review * "This coming-of-age and coming-out story takes a needed departure from other stories about transgender youth....A chilling, suspenseful ghost story balances the intimate, introspective narrative style.... Haunting and healing ." - Kirkus , starred review * " Smart and thought-provoking .... Through Bugs journey to self-realization and self-acceptance, and the wonderfully nuanced understanding of gender he comes to, Lukoff provides a tender rumination on grief, love, and identity ." - Publishers Weekly , starred review * "Equal parts unsettling, heartwarming, and satisfying ...a nuanced and compelling exploration of gender, friendship, and family." - Booklist , starred review * "Lukoffs three primary themes--gender identity, grief, and ghostly hauntings--work in elegant harmony despite the load. Lukoff navigates Bugs journey of identity and discovery with grace, welcoming... A hopeful examination of grief and gender, and a good ghost story to boot ." - School Library Journal , starred review * "Lukoff combines gothic horror vibes with a slow-building trans awakening...The spooks and mysteries are an added bonus that sets this narrative apart from similar titles." -- BCCB * "While gender identity remains prominent throughout, Lukoff also combines pitch-perfect adolescent angst, evolving friendships and spooky encounters to create a welcoming story accessible to young readers of all backgrounds." -- Shelf Awareness "When we talk about wanting to see a diverse range of books for kids, this is precisely what we should be thinking of.... Smart. Original. Necessary . " -Betsy Bird, Fuse8 "Bugs first-person, present-tense narration gives readers a close look at his sense that things dont quite fit....and his gradual understanding of why that is." - The Horn Book " A much-needed book about the acceptance of a transgender boy who finds the support he needs from his family, his best friend, and eventually his friends at school." - School Library Connection Excerpt from Book PROLOGUE Its strange living in our old house, now that Uncle Roderick is dead. I already know my house is haunted. Its always been haunted. That hasnt changed. We avoid the freezing cold spot in the corner of the living room because someone probably died there. Windows slam themselves open or shut on the stillest days. So do doors, and these doors are heavy. For a long time I thought it was normal to sense someone standing behind you, or next to you, and not be able to see them. For invisible hands to brush past your hair, your clothes. And it looks haunted: wooden, unpainted, weathered with time. Theres an elaborately carved front door, peaked roofs jutting out in all directions, tall windows with shapes flickering behind them. The porch wraps around front to back with rocking chairs that sometimes rock on their own. Were out in the middle of nowhere, and at nighttime theres moonlight and starlight and nothing else. When I was in kindergarten I checked a book out of the library because the house on the front cover looked like a photograph of my home. Uncle Roderick tried reading it to me that night, my head resting on his chest, his arm tucked beneath my shoulders. We always read together before bed. He had to stop after the first chapter because it was a collection of scary stories; he believed that dreams were important, and he didnt want to give me bad ones. But now this old house seems haunted in a different way. A way thats both more boring and more frightening. Theres a half-empty jar of okra Uncle Roderick picked and pickled that hell never finish eating, and Mom and I both hate okra. His winter boots are jammed in the closet. He always put off wearing them for as long as possible, saying they made him look like a lumberjack, but now hell never need them again. He subscribed to magazines, the New Yorker, National Geographic, and theyll keep being addressed to him until we tell them to stop. Until they take his name off the list. Forever. I prefer the ghosts. CHAPTER ONE The moment he dies, I know. Its the middle of the night. My eyes open, and I grip the mattress with both hands. Im suddenly, irrationally convinced that my bed is toppling over. Like its unbalanced, perched precariously on the top of a mountain and about to come crashing down. Or like its teetering on the edge of a black hole, with nothing familiar on the other side. Uncle Rodericks room is at the top of the stairs. Moms is at the end of the hall. For eleven years Ive fallen asleep snug in the middle, their warmth and weight keeping me grounded from both sides. Even these past couple months, when hes been in the hospital and then the hospice, I could still feel him there, keeping me safe at the top of the stairs. But now I know my uncle is gone. The stairs creak, sharp and loud. That doesnt mean anything. They creak all the time. "The house is settling" is what Mom says, and sometimes it might be a harmless ghost. But now I hear the groan of a foot on a step. And then another. Its like the sound of someone slowly moving up our wide staircase, someone with a heavy tread. Its mid-June, and hot, and Im lying under a sheet with a fan blowing warm air around the room. I pull the sheet up to my chin, wishing for the weight of a comforter to press me into the mattress, something to hide under. The creaks stop at the top, right in front of Uncle Rodericks bedroom door. I hold my breath and strain my ears. I cant hear anything, but it doesnt sound like no ones there. It sounds like someone being silent. I only exhale when the creaks descend the stairs, as slowly as they came. Uncle Roderick always told me that passing spirits and lingering presences are a normal part of living in a house almost as old as the dirt it sits on. Mom says that the creepy things I sense or feel or hear are just part of an active imagination, and that Uncle Roderick shouldnt encourage it, that ghosts arent real. I only occasionally believe my mom: When the sun is bright and I can explain away strange hands touching my neck or a mysteriously slammed-shut door as stray gusts of wind in a drafty old building. I believe my uncle now, surely and suddenly. But I dont want to. "Theres no one on the stairs," I tell myself, wanting it to be true, still holding on to the mattress for dear life. "Theres no one on the stairs. Theres no one on the stairs. Theres no one on the stairs." The rhythm pounds through my brain, repeating itself over and over, crowding out every other thought that also must be true. I manage to fall asleep by curling up into a ball, my back turned toward the half of the room that echoes the new emptiness in my chest. I wake up again a few hours later because the phone rings. I feel grounded now. Not in a free fall, not hurtling through space. But theres an empty room inside my chest. Moms voice struggles through the wall. None of the words are clear, but if I didnt know about Uncle Roderick already, I would know now from her tone, the rise and fall of sentences. She comes into my bedroom a few minutes later and I sit up. She holds me and cries. Ive seen my mother cry before, but its never been my job to comfort her. Its always been Uncle Rodericks job. But her brothers not here, and I am. I hold her tight, and breathe as shallowly as possible until her sobs subside. I should have cried that first day, almost a year ago, when Uncle Roderick came home from the doctor with bad news, but I couldnt. I remember a rushing sound filling my ears, drowning out the details, my brain refusing to take in anything beyond one main truth. Something too big to touch, with no details to snag on. I told myself Id only cry once he was gone. But that day has come and Ive got nothing. No tears, and no anything else. Theres sadness, but its whirling around outside of me. Like a hurricane of grief, and Im the dry, unmoving eye. "He loved you very much, you know," Mom says, after a bit. She lets go, sits up straight, palms the tears off her cheeks. I wish I had a tissue to offer her. "I know he did," I say. And I do. But it doesnt help. Mom hugs me once more, then says she has to make some phone calls. I stare across my room, sunlight streaming through the tall window with rippled glass, and wonder what happens after this. CHAPTER TWO Mom and Uncle Roderick and I rattled around our house like peas in an oversized pod. Sometimes we would have houseguests from New York City or Burlington or Montreal, filling it up with noise and laughter and memories. But the three of us could fill it up just as well. Tonight the house is full of people and memories, but not much laughter. Family friends have come from all over. But not many people from our little pocket of Vermont show up. We moved here when I was a baby, and old Vermonters dont acknowledge you until theres "six in the ground." Six dead people, they mean, in a row, stretching back through the years. Well, weve got our first. But Uncle Roderick isnt even in the ground. Not really. He didnt want a funeral, he said, or a burial. Just sprinkle my ashes on the land, he told us toward the end. We did, putting handfuls in the creek, the woods, the garden, everywhere. Mom says that everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye. I wish they could say goodbye somewhere else. The house has never been this full before, and I cant go hide with Uncle Roderick in his room. I have to wear this dress that makes me look like Samantha from the American Girl books. Its rumpled from being at the bottom of my closet for months, and Uncle Roderick usually took care of the ironing. People pat me on the shoulder or hug me, and since Im the one with a dead uncle its okay that I dont hug back. My dress is like a force field; it blocks out the pressure of their hands or arms around me, which is good because if I actually feel anyone touch me Ill break apart into smithereens. In between I focus on tightening my ponytail and tugging at the wrinkles in my dress. Its too small for me, and if I hunch forward the material pulls across my back, keeping me a gasp away from a full breath. Conversations pause if I walk by them, but tucked into a corner of the living room I catch snatches here and there. "Awfully young, he was only thirty-two, right?" "Its so sad, especially since Sabrinas husband died right after she gave birth. A car accident, if Im remembering correctly." "No, they dont have anyone else. This place started out as a vacation home, and its been in their family for a while, but no one else is left." One of Uncle Rodericks ex-boyfriends is across the room, down from Portland. I think his name is Tobias. Hes tall and thin, like Uncle Roderick, but with a shaved head and a beard. He was nice, but had wanted kids, and my uncle decided that I was enough kid for him, so they broke up but stayed friends. Tobias catches my eye and gives me a small, sad smile. I turn up the corners of my mouth in what might be a smile, and skitter away before he can come over to shake my hand or hug me or pay whatever respects he has. I duck into the kitchen but catch my dress on the doorframe. I reach down to tug it away, from a nail or whatever. Its not stuck on anything, but theres a rip that I dont think was there before. Oh well, Im getting too big for it anyway. No one else is in the kitchen. There are dishes cluttered on the wide wooden counter, crusted with food, so I dump them in the sink and turn on the faucet. Ive always begged Mom for a dishwasher, especially since I only just got tall enough to reach the bottom of the huge sink, but right now scrubbing at dishes Details ISBN0593111176 Author Kyle Lukoff Pages 224 Language English Year 2022 ISBN-10 0593111176 ISBN-13 9780593111178 DEWEY 813.6 Audience Age 10 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Format Paperback Imprint Dial Books for Young Readers,US Country of Publication United States Publication Date 2022-06-07 US Release Date 2022-06-07 UK Release Date 2022-06-07 Narrator Geoffrey Beevers Illustrator Gladys Jose Birth 1927 Affiliation Clark University Position journalist Qualifications PhD Audience Children / Juvenile NZ Release Date 2022-10-04 AU Release Date 2022-10-04 Subtitle (Newbery Honor Award Winner) We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:135339746;

Price: 16.46 AUD

Location: Melbourne

End Time: 2025-01-24T03:04:23.000Z

Shipping Cost: 0 AUD