The best middle-grade books tackling tough topics with hope and compassion

Beautifully conceived and timeless, this is a touchstone book for me. The two kids at the center feel so real to me: 10-year-old Jess, a farm kid and aspiring artist who is lonely, closed off, and feeling misunderstood, and the new kid, Leslie, who has moved with her family from the city.

The kids’ friendship is authentic, with some childhood magic grounded in the real world. This book is about the sudden death of a friend, and I admire that Paterson does not talk down to kids or try to comfort them with unrealistically simple answers.

As a boy, I also found strength in seeing Jess empowered, taking steps that moved him forward despite his grief over Leslie’s death.

I found this book when I had kids of my own, and it reminded me how powerful, beautiful, and important kids' books can be. Because of Winn-Dixie touches on alcoholism, loss, and regret.

I was astonished by what DiCamillo has done here because I know how hard it is to pull off: She’s written a profound story that resonated with me and my kids and does it with a beautifully light touch.

Her writing is luminous and points to something I think is so important for kids to understand: We’re all carrying sorrows and regrets. This connects us, and we lighten our burdens by opening our hearts to each other.

I admire Moore’s storytelling power so much: He vividly portrays a boy, 12-year-old Lolly, dealing with grief and loss and the dangerous streets outside after the murder of his brother. At the same time, Moore draws a rich picture of the community around Lolly in Harlem.

Lolly loves Legos, and his creativity is fueled by garbage bags full of them from his mother’s girlfriend. I love the way Moore uses the Legos both to connect with young readers and as a metaphor for the challenge Lolly faces, building a strong foundation for himself when he feels as if his life is in pieces.

With Lolly, Moore gives kids something else I know is so important: a model of resilience and open-heartedness in the face of loss.

This book is about something as disruptive to a child’s world as can be–a parent’s debilitating mental illness–and Baldwin handles it realistically and sensitively.

Twelve-year-old Della is terrified and heartbroken by her mother’s struggles with schizophrenia, and I know as a writer that Baldwin faced a huge challenge in telling this story: finding where the hope lies when, ultimately, there’s no cure for the mom.

The answer lies in acceptance and community, and Baldwin handles this in a way that feels wise, real, and satisfying to me. This book is also close to my heart because it is set in a part of the world I know and love, rural eastern North Carolina, and Baldwin describes it so beautifully.

This book amazed me with its bravery: Bradley takes on child sexual abuse and a teen suicide attempt, and she presents this story, as hard as it is, in a way that young readers can understand and process.

The voice of the narrator, 10-year-old Della, is a big draw for me: She’s tough, candid, and funny, and her personality propelled me through the book. I love that this story ultimately shows a child fighting back effectively in the darkest of circumstances.

Della begins by saying she has a “big mouth” and has been told to keep quiet and edit herself. But in the end, Della’s mouth and her refusal to keep quiet about horrible things done to her big sister get them both to a better place.