krtfkurnick's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
halschrieve's review
5.0
I got a free ARC of this book via NetGalley.
I don't know how to begin here, except to say that as I write I'm still happy-ugly-crying from reading the majority of this book all in one go over the course of one evening. I do think that grown-up trans people might have this response a lot more than the kids who this book is intended for. Fair warning for all grown-up trans people.
Uncle Roderick just died, and Bug is about to start middle school. Bug, always a bookish, slightly weird, slightly lonesome child, loved Uncle Roderick, a gay man and drag queen who acted as an additional parent; now, in the wake of his passing, Bug is faced with the absence not only of Roderick, but of a childhood hiding in the ambiguity of vague tomboyishness. Bug's best friend Moira (formerly known by the tomboyish moniker Mo) feels she and Bug need to be made-over before the start of middle school in fall, and brings makeup and nail polish around constantly to try to fix the issues she sees with both of their vibes. Bug hates this, and also has no other friends. There is something had has never really clicked between Bug and other people. Bug narrates the details of life in the third person: "she went wading in the creek, catching minnows," "she climbed a tree," and imagines constantly that the events of Dickensenian fantasy books are what's happening instead of real life. Sometimes Bug looks in the mirror and Bug's face isn't Bug's face. But that's just how mirrors are, right?
Then there's the ghosts.
Bug's house is old (it's in Vermont) and it's always had ghosts. Bug feels them in cold spots, in vague hands snatching, and in dreams that once terrified baby Bug, sending baby Bug spinning down the hall into Uncle Roderick's arms. But now there's something else happening. Strange violent pranks seem to be targeting Bug, destroying small things around the house and hurting Moira. Bug knows Uncle Roderick wouldn't want to hurt anyone, but his presence also seems to definitely linger-- strange things point to his spirit still being present, sending Bug down a rabbit hole of combing through Roderick's things and researching ghosts desperately at the library. Bug realizes that if Roderick is still around, he must be trying to tell Bug something. But what?
And why did Roderick have all those materials about accepting trans youth in his closet?
A note appears, in Roderick's hand, in chicken scratch, but the words aren't words. Bug can't read it.
There are more trans kid books now than there used to be, and I appreciate the slow fattening of the meat on the bone, so to speak, but this is the first book I've found that captures and appreciates the haunting hollowness of adolescent dysphoria. I loved ghost books as a kid, and I think the unearthly feeling I had in my own body was part of why. Lukoff's real/unreal magic that is viscerally true to Bug but invisible to others works perfectly and is both chilling and undeniable. There is a beautiful scene where Bug stands in a creek and hears a strange chorus of ghost voices who shout out to him, filling his head with noise, but indecipherable--the chorus thins out until Bug hears a voice that is unmistakably Roderick, shouting, then talking, then whispering comfortingly-- but whose words are not comprehensible. Lukoff pairs the pain of living with a sensation of alienation and distraction one can't identify with one of the other major negative emotions I experience as a queer person: grief for the people who came before you who cannot speak to you in the ways you need, because they're gone. The loss of our queer parents, our caregivers, generations of people we might have been or loved or been loved by, is overwhelming, but it's something that kids feel too. In Lukoff's vision, our loved ones also love us, and they sometimes scream to us when we need to hear truth about the world we live in now. And we can love them, and they know.
Bug ends up okay in this; Bug experiences no bullying or cruelty, though there is grief and alienation and misunderstanding and financial precarity. This is as upbeat a book as any you will find, but it's also engaged deeply with the realities of living, and it is an honest and absolutely necessary thing to provide our children with.
(And for me and other grown-ups, our baby selves, hidden in us).
I don't know how to begin here, except to say that as I write I'm still happy-ugly-crying from reading the majority of this book all in one go over the course of one evening. I do think that grown-up trans people might have this response a lot more than the kids who this book is intended for. Fair warning for all grown-up trans people.
Uncle Roderick just died, and Bug is about to start middle school. Bug, always a bookish, slightly weird, slightly lonesome child, loved Uncle Roderick, a gay man and drag queen who acted as an additional parent; now, in the wake of his passing, Bug is faced with the absence not only of Roderick, but of a childhood hiding in the ambiguity of vague tomboyishness. Bug's best friend Moira (formerly known by the tomboyish moniker Mo) feels she and Bug need to be made-over before the start of middle school in fall, and brings makeup and nail polish around constantly to try to fix the issues she sees with both of their vibes. Bug hates this, and also has no other friends. There is something had has never really clicked between Bug and other people. Bug narrates the details of life in the third person: "she went wading in the creek, catching minnows," "she climbed a tree," and imagines constantly that the events of Dickensenian fantasy books are what's happening instead of real life. Sometimes Bug looks in the mirror and Bug's face isn't Bug's face. But that's just how mirrors are, right?
Then there's the ghosts.
Bug's house is old (it's in Vermont) and it's always had ghosts. Bug feels them in cold spots, in vague hands snatching, and in dreams that once terrified baby Bug, sending baby Bug spinning down the hall into Uncle Roderick's arms. But now there's something else happening. Strange violent pranks seem to be targeting Bug, destroying small things around the house and hurting Moira. Bug knows Uncle Roderick wouldn't want to hurt anyone, but his presence also seems to definitely linger-- strange things point to his spirit still being present, sending Bug down a rabbit hole of combing through Roderick's things and researching ghosts desperately at the library. Bug realizes that if Roderick is still around, he must be trying to tell Bug something. But what?
And why did Roderick have all those materials about accepting trans youth in his closet?
A note appears, in Roderick's hand, in chicken scratch, but the words aren't words. Bug can't read it.
There are more trans kid books now than there used to be, and I appreciate the slow fattening of the meat on the bone, so to speak, but this is the first book I've found that captures and appreciates the haunting hollowness of adolescent dysphoria. I loved ghost books as a kid, and I think the unearthly feeling I had in my own body was part of why. Lukoff's real/unreal magic that is viscerally true to Bug but invisible to others works perfectly and is both chilling and undeniable. There is a beautiful scene where Bug stands in a creek and hears a strange chorus of ghost voices who shout out to him, filling his head with noise, but indecipherable--the chorus thins out until Bug hears a voice that is unmistakably Roderick, shouting, then talking, then whispering comfortingly-- but whose words are not comprehensible. Lukoff pairs the pain of living with a sensation of alienation and distraction one can't identify with one of the other major negative emotions I experience as a queer person: grief for the people who came before you who cannot speak to you in the ways you need, because they're gone. The loss of our queer parents, our caregivers, generations of people we might have been or loved or been loved by, is overwhelming, but it's something that kids feel too. In Lukoff's vision, our loved ones also love us, and they sometimes scream to us when we need to hear truth about the world we live in now. And we can love them, and they know.
Bug ends up okay in this; Bug experiences no bullying or cruelty, though there is grief and alienation and misunderstanding and financial precarity. This is as upbeat a book as any you will find, but it's also engaged deeply with the realities of living, and it is an honest and absolutely necessary thing to provide our children with.
(And for me and other grown-ups, our baby selves, hidden in us).
tripp_2mylou's review
5.0
See that? Started and finished the same day, from yours truly - a self-proclaimed slow reader. But here’s the thing: this book had so many things I love. Haunted houses, unlikely friends, and a pitch perfect queer coming-of-age story. Even better, it has beautiful writing and a complex plot with a refreshingly happy ending. Like, really happy - from all sides. No vicious bullies, no rejecting parental figures, no protagonist hating themselves - just some internal confusion (wrapped in a cool ghost story), a lightbulb moment and then, support! I cried happy tears!
godlizza's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
This is a very sweet story about a young child dealing with the loss of his uncle, being haunted by his ghost, and learning the reason his uncle is haunting him. The core of this story was very warm and cosy. I don't think I've ever read a ghost story where the ghost was trying to help the person they were haunting. The fact that the spirit of this man refused to pass on and rest until he'd helped his nephew realise an important aspect of who he is was so sweet. Would definitely recommend to others looking for a cute read with a young trans protagonist.
toritellini's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
samusc's review against another edition
emotional
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
librarista's review against another edition
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
sahelwig's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
4.0
americattt's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.75
“Being around Griffin, just for a few minutes, felt like practicing how to be a better version of myself. It needs work, but maybe if I practice often enough it will start to feel natural. Maybe it will stop being something I have to practice, and something I’ll just be. Maybe that’s what growing up is like. Practice makes a person.”
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief, Death, and Dysphoria