A big motivation for writing Cursedwas what I saw as a dearth of authentic disability and chronic illness rep in books for kids. Where were the characters who were angry, messy, scared? Where were the kids in real pain—physically, emotionally, socially—who maybe weren’t surrounded by supportive friends and family and maybe didn’t handle their diagnoses with grace? When I was first diagnosed with juvenile arthritis at thirteen, I was all of the above—and then some. I’ve identified as disabled for 30+ years and am active in various disability groups and spaces. It’s my pleasure to champion kids’ books with authentic disability and chronic illness representation.
I have this pathetic disease. Never mind what it’s called. Life doesn’t play by the rules, so fourteen-year-old Ricky decides she won’t either. Ricky’s rules allow for cursing, cutting school, and lying to the Disaster-Formerly-Known-As-Her-Parents. That is, until her truancy is discovered and she’s facing the threat of having to repeat ninth grade.
Loosely drawn from the author’s experience of being diagnosed with juvenile/arthritis as a young teen, Cursedis funny, frank, and full of f-bombs. An unsentimental take on the “sick kid” genre, it won the prestigious 2020 Schneider Family Book Award which celebrates “the artistic expression of the disability experience” in books for kids and teens.
It was such a pleasure to read about a teen navigating high school with arthritis, as I had. Better yet, a sweet, awkward romance is the heart of this book rather than its focus being on Isabel’s chronic illness. In my experience, life with chronic illness is just that—life, with all its ups, downs, pleasures, absurdities, etc. Sasha is a swoon-worthy love interest, and neither character’s chronic illness is downplayed or mined for soapy dramatics. There’s an authenticity here, particularly in the often mundane hospital scenes, that signifies this is an author who’s sharing, to at least some degree, her own lived experiences.
All the women in her family are heartbreakers, and she's destined to become one, too, if she's not careful. But when she goes to the hospital for her RA infusion, she meets a gorgeous, foul-mouthed boy who has her rethinking the no-dating rule and ready to risk everything.
Aleksander is chronically ill, too, and there's a softer side underneath all his jokes. Isabel finds herself unraveling the secrets of a real person, rather than crowd-sourcing her decisions through her online column Sick Girl Wants to Know.
They fall for each other hard and fast, but Isabel has known all along…
Veronica dreams of getting a job as a mermaid in her Florida hometown’s famous mermaid tourist attraction. And I mean—who wouldn’t dream of that, especially since moving in water is so much easier than moving on land when you have hips dysplasia (which both this main character and author have)? I’ve always secretly wanted to work at an amusement park or tourist attraction and can seriously relate to the freedom that water brings to painful bodies. I loved living vicariously through Veronica as she trained in secret (her ultra-strict Peruvian parents definitely do notapprove) and pursued her dream. Getting the gig is only half the battle. Veronica has to prove she can do the job to her fellow mermaids—and herself.
In this gorgeously written and authentic novel, Veronica, a Peruvian-American teen with hip dysplasia, auditions to become a mermaid at a Central Florida theme park in the summer before her senior year, all while figuring out her first real boyfriend and how to feel safe in her own body.
Veronica has had many surgeries to manage her disability. The best form of rehabilitation is swimming, so she spends hours in the pool, but not just to strengthen her body.
Her Florida town is home to Mermaid Cove, a kitschy underwater attraction where professional mermaids perform in giant tanks . .…
On the surface, I don’t have much in common with Darius or Khorram. Both are male, Persian, and gay. I’m none of those things—and haven’t experienced clinical depression personally—yet I felt Darius’ sadness, longing, and social awkwardness in my bones—and heart. His story was one of tremendous tenderness that had me rooting for him from page one. Khorram does a brilliant job with highlighting the subtleties of depression and feeling lost without ever resorting to cliches or forced histrionics.
Darius Kellner speaks better Klingon than Farsi, and he knows more about Hobbit social cues than Persian ones. He's a Fractional Persian - half, his mum's side - and his first-ever trip to Iran is about to change his life. Darius has never really fit in at home, and he's sure things are going to be the same in Iran. His clinical depression doesn't exactly help matters, and trying to explain his medication to his grandparents only makes things harder. Then Darius meets Sohrab, the boy next door, and everything changes. Soon, they're spending their days together, playing soccer, eating…
Confession: I’m not a big fantasy reader. I was drawn to this book because there was a disability rep in it—and thank God!—as it ended up being one of my favorite books in recent years. Part steampunk dystopian war story, part feminist manifesto, We Rule the Nightis riveting the entire way through. One of the dual protagonists, Revna, is an amputee whose prosthetic legs are made of sentient metal—one of two different kinds of magic in the utterly fascinating world Bartlett has created. Renva and her flight partner in the war effort, Linné, are both completely badass and unapologetic.
After a century of growth, trade union membership and influence have begun to decline in most of the economically advanced countries. This comprehensive analysis of membership trends covers developing as well as industrialized countries. The author's thesis is that the unions have failed to pay sufficient attention to the concerns of a labor force that is more educated, with a higher participation of women, and with a greater concern for job security than was true in the past.
In this diagnosis story, author Kamins chooses to use a fictional illness—lepidopsy—to perfectly emulate the otherworldly confusion and uncertainty of being diagnosed with a disease you have no context for. Suddenly, everything changes for Anna. Nothing makes sense. It’s disorienting, uncomfortable, and terrifying. I loved how the book shows the character figuring out how to navigate this new life step by step by misstep. Despite the fictional illness, Anna’s journey feels incredibly real.
Anna is a regular teenaged girl. She runs track with her best friend, gets good grades, and sometimes drinks beer at parties.
But one day at track practice, Anna falls unconscious . . . but instead of falling down, she falls up, defying gravity in the disturbing first symptom of a mysterious disease.
This begins a series of trips to the hospital that soon become Anna’s norm. She’s diagnosed with lepidopsy: a rare illness that causes symptoms reminiscent of moths: floating, attraction to light, a craving for sugar, and for an unlucky few, more dangerous…
When Miranda’s fiancé, Russ, is being vetted for his dream job in the U.S. attorney’s office, the couple joke that Miranda’s parents’ history as antiwar activists in the Sixties might jeopardize Russ’s security clearance. In fact, the real threat emerges when Russ’s future employer discovers that Miranda was arrested for felony kidnapping seven years earlier—an arrest she’d never bothered to tell Russ about.
Miranda tries to explain that she was only helping her best friend, in the midst of a nasty custody battle, take her daughter to visit her parents in Israel. As Miranda struggles to prove that she’s not a criminal, she stumbles into other secrets that will challenge what she thought she knew about her own family, her friend, Russ—and herself.
When Miranda’s fiancé, Russ, is being vetted for his dream job in the U.S. attorney’s office, the couple joke that Miranda’s parents’ history as antiwar activists in the Sixties might jeopardize Russ’s security clearance. In fact, the real threat emerges when Russ’s future employer discovers that Miranda was arrested for felony kidnapping seven years earlier—an arrest she’d never bothered to tell Russ about.
Miranda tries to explain that she was only helping her best friend, in the midst of a nasty custody battle, take her daughter to visit her parents in Israel. As Miranda struggles to prove that she’s not…
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