Teen Librarian Toolbox
Inside Teen Librarian Toolbox

Friday Finds: April 12, 2019

This Week at TLT

Let’s Talk About Sex…Positivity in YA, a guest post by Jenn Bennett

DIY Neon Signs, Part 2

Cindy Crushes Programming: DIY Wizard of OZ Necklaces

National School Climate Survey results about LGBTQ students’ experiences in school

What are the biggest challenges in teen services in the library today?

Author Heidi Daniele Guest Post: The House Children

Around the Web

10 Books From Middle School That You’ll Want to Read Again

ALA Releases “State of America’s Libraries 2019” Report

What is unconscious bias? And how can educators fight it?

The kids aren’t all right: How the housing crisis hurts the Bay Area’s youngest residents

Author Heidi Daniele Guest Post: The House Children

Screen Shot 2019-03-27 at 9.16.40 AMI’d first heard about Irish Industrial Schools during a trip to Ireland. A book titled Fear of the Collar by Patrick Touher came up during a conversation at an event I was attending. The story was an account of his experience in the Artaine Industrial School, run by the Christian Brothers. I bought the book the following day and was both fascinated and appalled by what I read. As a parent of two children and a Catholic, it was difficult to believe that Irish children had been treated so badly in an institution run by the Catholic Church.


Shortly after I read Touher’s book, “The Commission to Inquire into Child Abuse” was formed by the Irish Government to investigate abuse in childcare facilities, including industrial schools. While waiting for the findings of the Commission, I continued to search for information about industrial schools. I scoured the internet for articles, blogs and message board postings. Most of what I read was about the horrible experiences and abuse endured by many of the children.


Further research shed light on the Irish culture of that era. Many families were poor, unemployment was high, and an old brand of Catholicism heavily influenced government policies and the moral views of the majority of the Irish people.


While compiling my findings it occurred to me that others might also be intrigued with this topic, so I began to entertain the idea of writing a book.


My journey led me to conversations with five women who were raised in Saint Joseph’s Industrial School in Ballinasloe between 1930 and 1960. I was surprised at how different their experiences were. It was a relief to learn that in spite of their many difficulties, they also shared fond memories of friends they’d made, and even some of the nuns.


I began to appreciate that the industrials schools, although a terribly imperfect system, had also served their primary purpose of sheltering and feeding these children, many of whom might otherwise have endured worse fates.  


It became my mission to give a fair account of what happened in this particular institution. The characters in The House Children are based on these five women, and the story is based on actual events. There was one twist – the women asked to remain anonymous, so I was faced with the challenge of giving an authentic account of their experiences without revealing their identities. In some ways that limited what I could write, but it also gave me the freedom to use my creativity.


Originally, the story was almost double in size. I wanted to include every detail the women shared with me as a way of honoring their stories. The burden of shame they carried had kept them silent for many years. It was difficult deciding which elements of their stories would best give a fair account of life in the school.
The House Children is the end result of my mission to tell their stories honestly while also respecting their anonymity.

Screen Shot 2019-03-27 at 9.16.15 AMAbout the author:

Heidi Daniele’s passion for history and genealogy opened the door for The House Children, which is her debut novel. She has a degree in Communications and Media Arts and has worked on several short independent films. She earned the Learning in Progress Award for Excellence at a Dutchess Community College Film Festival for coproducing, writing, filming, and editing the film Final Decisions. She also volunteers at The Lisa Libraries, an organization that donates new children’s books and small libraries to organizations that work with kids in poor and underserved areas. An empty nester who lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, Heidi enjoys gardening, photography, and exploring her family tree.


About the book:

During the 1930’s, Mary Margaret “Peg” Joyce was born to an unwed mother during a time in Irish history when single pregnant women were often sent to special homes to give birth and then forcibly separated from their children. At age five, she is sent to an industrial school, an institution set up to care for “neglected, orphaned and abandoned children” by giving them harsh rules to live by and teaching them a trade. The one thing getting her through her rigid routine of prayer, work and silence is the annual summer holiday she takes with a local family, the Hanleys. However, once she finds out that Norah Hanley is her birth mother, she is overcome with anger and feelings of abandonment. Meanwhile, Norah also has her own battle to face, fighting the feelings of shame and guilt that bubble up from her past.


For fans of The Hired Girl by Laura Amy Schlitz and Sold on a Monday by Kristina McMorris, this engaging YA debut The House Children is a compelling story of familial love that highlights the struggles of both mothers and their babies during this dark and difficult time in Irish history.

Friday Finds: April 5, 2019

This Week at TLT

Post-it Note Reviews of YA Books: Rappers, movie lovers, musicians, survivors, and teens who create their own universe

Digital Media: Using Photo Apps to Create a Glitch Effects

Kids Can Handle Big Decisions . . . If the Adults Get Out of the Way (But Also Don’t), a guest post by Kirstin Cronn-Mills

Book Review: Wreck by Kirstin Cronn-Mills

Audio Review: Spin by Lamar Giles

Feminist AF: Internal Revolutions: Books + Emotional Literacy a guest post by Emma Fernhout

Conversation Snapshots: Let’s Talk YA Lit Titles & YA Programming Success

Sunday Reflections: How the Language of Deconstructing One’s Faith Helped Me Understand Adolescence

Around the Web


30 of the Best YA Books of April

Truth, Loss, and Identity in This Spring’s Upcoming Young Adult SFF

Childhood Poverty: California’s ‘Moral Outrage’

Feminist AF: Internal Revolutions: Books + Emotional Literacy a guest post by Emma Fernhout

feministMarch for Our Lives.  Youth Climate Strike. The Women’s March. The last several years have shown us that teenagers can, and will, lead or participate in resistance. They will study, discuss, and stand up, sometimes when adults hesitate. Should this surprise us? Teenagers and young adults lead revolutions as our books, written by adults who believe in them, have taught them to.

Sometimes this revolution is internal. This may be especially true when examining YA books’ impact covering current events. For example, in the age of University required consent classes, YA books covering movements such as #MeToo have power to equip readers for real life. I believe we are remembering books’ emotional political power, as we begin to discuss more openly the damage our society imparts.

Of course, I read and hear many critiques about over-emotional political rhetoric, but I’d like to note that this critique is often given to women, from the voice of men. Two articles to consult on this topic include Political Revisioning: How Men Police Women’s Anger in Writing Workshops and The History of Female Anger. Perhaps the truth is that we lack emotional literacy, tending to graze the surface of our feelings with less regard for the layers of emotions simmering beneath. Psychologist Hilary Jacobs Hendel calls this the “Change Triangle,” mapping the depth of our feelings. Without this self-awareness, we might misguidedly pin-point fears and thus act in ways that do little to resolve the root of the tension.

People experience the world through the lens of feeling, or lack thereof. This is especially true in the context of sexual assault. Mental health matters.

Yet when we open a book, we also are opened, within a safe environment of expression and experience. Books allow us to make sense of the world, and ourselves, whether by second hand experience or prompted thought and assessment.

Books as Vessels for Empathy

Books may open a cavity within readers for empathy, allowing readers to enter into a situation which they have recently heard much about, often via third party sources such as news outlets and social media. Books are a valuable and comparable method of immersion: Reading offers a safe venue in which to experience a reality, another world other people are forced to live within, complete with thoughts and sight. It allows a reader to steep within another’s mind, perspective, and world, while still offering the control to the reader: one may pause, put the book down, and return to their own reality if they so need.

But if we hear about sexual assault so often, why would we need books to help educate ourselves? Isn’t the knowledge assault exists enough? Perhaps, but we read to gain perspective. How many different points of view are offered, to best reflect our diverse world and complex situations (eg, perspectives such as survivor, bystander, and friends, not to mention within different cultural contexts?) The goal is not just to know an issue is occurring, but to truly hear and glimpse the emotional reality and gravity of these stories. What does the occurrence of an event actually mean to those it touches? We can hear the data all day, but the stories producing the data are just as important as the statistics. People- lives– are simply numbers. This fact needs to weigh on authors, reminding them of their responsibility to be careful, authentic, and vulnerable through their work.

Empathy Leads to Educated Guesses and Questions

Only after we are more knowledgeable may we be equipped to ask educated questions of authority, peers, and ourselves. Only then may we intelligently exponentially evolve in better directions. This requires bravery and discomfort, which is, again, why the safe venue of a book is so helpful. Fiction allows the reader to be present for a glimpse into the stories that are blasted across our screens.

Our emotional literacy is improved as we continually learn to understand- or simply respect- the emotional and situational complexity of situations that are so rarely very black and white as they seem.

For example, as we peek into the minds of sexual assault survivors, we may be less likely to ask, “Why didn’t she report the sexual assault sooner?” Books offer a window into messy situations, revealing consequences and complications. We see how multiple characters and situations affect a person. This may hopefully alleviate victim blaming, especially for situations that may occur within bubbles, such as sexual assault in the bubble of a high school, stranding individuals within its confines.

With increased understanding of the complex situations surrounding us, we are equipped to make better decisions, our respectful empathy increased. We may more easily pause and consider of ourselves, peers and authorities, “What energy am I bringing into this space? How might I be touching others, and what options are available to me?”

Question everything, always, gently employing rhetoric and emotional literacy.

Books as Methods for Both Validation and Catharsis

Last April, I listened to Lynda Barry tell a room full of teenagers and adults that catharsis is a biological state of reflection, intertwined with imagery:

I believe that the arts are like an external immune system. I believe that they have a biological function.

The fastest way I can explain it is that there is this brilliant neuroscientist named V. S. Ramachandran, who wrote a book called Phantoms in the Brain. He was very interested in people with phantom-limb pain, and he had one patient who had lost his hand from the wrist down, but the guy’s sensation was not only that the hand was still there, but that it was in a painful fist that kept clenching. Ramachandran built a box, with a mirror and two holes in one side. When the guy put his arms in, he saw the one hand reflected [as if he could see both of his hands]. When he opened the hand, he saw it open and it was like the missing hand was unclenching. It fixed his phantom-limb sensation. That’s what I think images do; that’s what the arts do. In the course of human life we have a million phantom-limb pains—losing a parent when you’re little, being in a war, even something as dumb as having a mean teacher—and seeing it somehow reflected, whether it’s in our own work or listening to a song, is a way to deal with it.

The Greeks knew about it. They called it catharsis, right? And without it we’re fucked. I think this is the thing that keeps our mental health or emotional health in balance, and we’re born with an impulse toward it.

// via The Paris Review

Stories of trauma, whether sexual assault, absent parents, disabilities, or subtle injuries, are important to make available. Suddenly, a reader is not alone within their possibly isolated world. Personal stories are physically validated, through a bundle of paper that one can hold in their hands, knowing that someone else thought through the complexity and thought it important enough to commit it to paper. They are believed in.

Books as Vehicles for Questioning Multiple Points of View

Complex subjects are infinitely more complex than we realize. A sexual assault narrative may have varying facets depending on characters and forms, such as realism, essay, poetry, history, comics, characters of color, lgbtq+ characters, and more. In addition, due to complex subject matters, books should also include a range of point of view, from, in the case of #MeToo, survivor, bystanders, and friends. Complex subjects cannot, and should not, be dumbed down to one point of view impacted.

It is also important to allow some attention for authors. Whose perspective are we investing in? For example, reading diverse characters primarily written by white, straight, cis, fully abled characters is not reading diversely. Read from the voices you seek to see. Their voices are authentic, and there is little risk of token inclusion for the sake of diversity trends.

Yes, this is slightly overwhelming, but perhaps it is the small work we need to embrace as we select our literature, especially if one is in the position to recommend work to others. I am afraid to become someone who wears the title of an open-hearted librarian, opening the doors for anyone who needs information, without doing the work of careful listening. I refuse to glean most of my ideals and ideas about other identities from voices that sound exactly like mine. This includes tough subjects such as sexual assault. If I’m going to read about this experience, to open myself up, hopefully I will not primarily hear my point of view, as culture does not treat everyone identically. Similarly, I need more queer writers. Disabled writers. Asian authors. Native writers. Who are the voices I have neglected to find, and when I do read them, who recommended them? Who is the expert for accuracy?

I want to be a better listener, and thus expand my capacity for empathy and educated opinions.
I want to continue to find myself reflected in works of all kinds and voices.
I too have stayed up late reading, crying into a book, and rushed to tell the author how they told my own story. I understand that sense of release, and it is priceless, and all people deserve this feeling.

My hope is that publishers value this feeling over marketability, especially if we consume these works. For example, whitewashing is an issue for all authors, whether white or AOC’s.
There is much to be said on the topic of diversity, and better voices to speak it. If you’re interested, I encourage you to continue research, perhaps beginning with these resources: We Need Diverse Books and OwnVoices: Why We Need Diverse Authors in Children’s Literature.

Feelings and Experience Matter, and I Hope We May Embrace Ourselves and Others.

I understand; Emotions are not necessarily measurable or standard. What hurts one person might not hurt everyone, but what does this say about our views of other people’s worth? How do we decide who matters? What is this measuring stick, and would any of us measure up on every measuring stick?

I don’t believe so.

We all have to exist inside ourselves, and feel.

Feelings are scary, but they matter. They are a lens on experience.

People matter. You matter. Others matter too.

Books help us remember. Keep reading.



unnamedEmma Fernhout is a youth librarian, poet, and MLIS student, armed with a yoga mat, and a BA in Creative Writing Poetry from UMKC.
Emma can be found on instagram at @hereistheend and sproutclubjournal.com


Friday Finds: March 29, 2019

tltbutton3This Week at TLT

Post-It Note Reviews: Books for younger readers featuring a psychic, an alien cat, scientists, a girl with ADHD, a homeschooled girl, and campers

Cindy Crushes Programming: The Road to Wrestlemania

New books alert: A fantasy set in Seoul, an anthology featuring interracial and LGBTQ+ relationships, romance via virtual reality, and more

Idea Alert! A Customizable Spinning Wheel for Events & Giveaways

Kicky’s Post It Note Reviews: On the Come Up and The Devouring Gray

Sunday Reflections: Let’s Update Those YA Lit Articles with Current Titles, and more suggestions for how we talk about YA lit in the media

Around the Web

30 of the Best YA Books of April

Gen Z: In Their Own Words

Proposed DOE Budget Cuts Go Far Beyond Special Olympics

Comics Belong in the Classroom

Sharing the Heart to Offset the Hate in the Headlines: Books From Muslim Authors

Young adult author Jason Reynolds

Friday Finds: March 22, 2019

tltbutton3This Week at TLT

Monsters united can never be defeated: sentimental queer horror YA, a guest post by Hal Schrieve

Beyond the Collection Diversity Audit: Inclusion is More Than a Book, Why we should be auditing all of our library services for inclusion and best practices

Book Review: Night Music by Jenn Marie Thorne

Feminist AF: What Makes a YA Book a Feminist YA Book?

A Love Letter to Muslim Authors, a guest post by Lisa Krok

Sunday Reflections: The Okay Sign, a Game of Gotcha, and a Symbol of Hate, Why It’s Important to Stay Informed

Around the Web

7 Black Women Authors Crushing the Young Adult Novel Scene in 2019

12 Jewish YA Books You’ll Want to Read in 2019

Funding an Author Visit—There’s Money Available!

CCBC Releases Annual Statistics for Multicultural Children’s Books

Internment Author Samira Ahmed Shares 6 Muslim YA Contemporary Authors You Should Have On Your Radar

Feminist AF: What Makes a YA Book a Feminist YA Book?

feministI don’t think there is a clear cut answer, and that everyone’s answer is a bit different. I have been asking myself this question for months now, and I thought I would take this chance to explore my thoughts on the subject.


At first when I considered this question, I was thinking of YA books that have been presented to me as feminist books.  The quickest that came to mind were those with storylines that directly grapple with feminism in the form of a fight against a male-dominated establishment. What I have discovered is that most of the time, the way that has shaken out is we look at books where characters fight back against sexual assault and we say “this is feminist.” Which, yeah, they can be. For sure. I certainly consider books like Natasha Ngan’s Girls of Paper and Fire, Joy McCullough’s Blood Water Paint and Tehlor Kay Mejia’s We Set the Dark on Fire to be feminist. Do we require our feminism in YA books to be reactionary? Does something terrible have to happen first for us to fight back against? I think the answer is no.


I think about books like Rebecca Barrow’s You Don’t Know Me But I Know You and Brandy Colbert’s Finding Yvonne, which both deal with reproductive choices as they relate to a single character. By nature, these are feminist YA books, though they don’t involve a huge outward fight. Books like Olivia Hinebaugh’s The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me and Camryn Garrett’s upcoming Full Disclosure, feature girls who want access to information about sexual health. Feminist.


As I was writing this, I went back to the idea of reactionary feminism in YA. And I think, in a different way, there are books that are feminist in a reactionary and revolutionary way, just because media has told us for so long that this isn’t what our stories look like. I’ve started counting named roles in musicals, and the percentage of them that belong to women. It’s usually less than half, even in musicals with female leads. And then I think about Mean Girls, which features a substantial amount of girl roles, but is still filled with girl-on-girl hatred, fatphobia, and just a general sense of unease. In so much media, whether it be musicals, or movies, or tv shows, women are shown to be less. Less speaking time, less characters, less opportunity for antiheroines or messy life choices, less strong female friendships (or romance where one of them doesn’t get killed, I still haven’t finished Buffy after the thing happened). It’s gotten better, but there’s still so much that needs fixing.


So what are some books that feel revolutionarily feminist when it comes to these issues? Well, I think Rebecca Barrow’s This is What it Feels Like presents female friendship and the messy nature of its evolution in a way that shouldn’t feel as radical as it does (again, thanks media!) I see Julie C Dao’s Forest of a Thousand Lanterns and Kingdom of the Blazing Phoenix in this revolutionary feminist light. The first has a main character who doesn’t shy away from being an anti-heroine, the second has a quiet princess—and neither has to apologize for existing that way. Do you remember the way it felt when If I Was Your Girl released? A moment that was astounding, and long overdue? Amy Rose Capetta’s The Brilliant Death features a demigirl main character in a fantasy setting, and the fact that I was even able to write that sentence feels sensational.


An important point I want to note. A book cannot be feminist and transphobic. If your feminism is at the expense of transgender teens/readers and non-binary teens/readers, then your feminism isn’t feminism, it is cruelty.


I’ve mentioned a number of books through this that I think are great feminist picks, but I want to make special note of Renée Watson and Ellen Hagan’s Watch Us Rise. It is intersectional in its feminism, it is fighting back against a broken system, and it has a strong female friendship at its core.


There are many ways a YA book can be a feminist YA book, and I think I’ve only scratched the surface. It is important to keep in mind that not every feminist book will tell you loudly that it is feminist. We have to talk about the loudly feminist books and the quiet feminist books and all the volumes in between.


profilepicRachel Strolle is a teen librarian in a Chicago suburb. Prior to that, she was an indie bookseller for five years. She currently runs Rec-It Rachel, a blog where she yells about books you should read and makes your TBR way too long (and she is not sorry).

Friday Finds: March 15, 2019

tltbutton3This Week at TLT

What’s new in LGBTQIA+ YA March 2019

Cindy Crushes Programming: Hosting a Riverdale Fan Party

The Where of it All: Place and Story, a guest post by Kathi Appelt

Book Review: Girls with Sharp Sticks by Suzanne Young

Elliot Talks: About Teens, Rules and Discipline, a teen perspective

Sunday Reflections: We Need to Talk About the Way We Talk About Library Patrons

Around the Web

Trump Renews Bid to End Federal Library Funding

Why The College Admissions Scandal Hurts Students With Disabilities

22 Diverse Book Choices for All Grade Levels

Greta Thunberg, 16-Year-Old Swedish Environmental Activist, Has Been Nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize


Friday Finds: March 8, 2019

tltbutton3This Week at TLT

Book Review: Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds

Book Review: The Manic Pixie Dream Boy Improvement Project by Lenore Appelhans

The Teen Reads the Complete Works of A. S. King

Things I Never Learned in Library School: Local Legends and Local Libraries, a reflection on Luke Perry

Book Review: Heroine by Mindy McGinnis

Feminist AF: Hearing Their Voices: Supporting Female Empowerment in Middle Grade Fiction for Tweens and Teens a guest post by Author Diane Magras

Around the Web

We Need Diverse Books™ Announces the Opening of Applications for the 2019 WNDB Internship Grants

The Absurd Structure of High School

Democrats have united around a plan to dramatically cut child poverty


Feminist AF: Hearing Their Voices: Supporting Female Empowerment in Middle Grade Fiction for Tweens and Teens a guest post by Author Diane Magras

feministWhen I was a child, the books I loved most—fast-paced adventure stories that swept me away from my rural, small town life—regularly reinforced the belief that girls’ voices didn’t matter. Those glorious, heart-pounding stories featured girls who were present only to be saved, or to be silly, or both—or had no girls at all.

That these attitudes still exist in books and life during my adulthood, even after more than a decade of “girl power” movements, is a problem. And it’s a huge problem when it sneaks into the books that kids love to read. What are we showing our girls—and our boys—when a popular series features a female sidekick whose role is to be beaten up by villains, and then rescued by the boy protagonist, in every single book? Thank goodness
for Sayantani DasGupta’s Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond series, where a girl
battles demons and leads rescue missions with boys right alongside her; or Henry Lien’s
Peasprout Chen books, which depict a world of skating and kung-fu where girls are
always equal to (and sometimes rather superior to) the boys.

We need books like these, books that show girl’s voices—loud or quiet—making a
difference. Right now in the real world, we’re still debating how much women’s voices
matter—and “feminism” is a loaded term. Students are growing up seeing women reach
high political offices—and then be relentlessly criticized for being themselves and
speaking up.

We children’s authors have a crucial role to play in changing this, especially if we’re
aiming to write books that kids will love to pick up. Our books can, with subtlety,
challenge gender stereotypes by showing girls’ voices influencing all parts of a plot. And
I’m delighted to be part of that.

Screen Shot 2019-03-02 at 9.26.53 AM

(Cover art by Antonio Javier Caparo)

I’m the author of unabashedly feminist middle grade fiction, which I hope will serve,
engage, and inspire both girls and boys. My books—the first two are The Mad Wolf’s
Daughter and The Hunt for the Mad Wolf’s Daughter—address gender stereotypes and a
girl’s role in fiction head-on. They’re Scottish medieval adventures filled with swordplay
and escapes, secrets and betrayals, tense scenes and cliffhanger chapter endings—the
kind of vivid, action-packed narrative I always loved.

They also star an unusual female protagonist who I could have used when I was a tween.
Her name is Drest. She’s the youngest in a family of men who together form a ferocious
war-band. Because she’s one of them, she’s been trained like them, and there’s no
question that she’s equal. When her father and brothers are captured and hauled off to be
hanged, she finds a sword and embarks on a rescue mission.

In Drest’s world, her confidence rarely wavers and her male family constantly backs her
up. In their relationship, I aimed to depict a realistic world where boys and men
supported the actions and voice of a girl.

And where a girl is, hands down, the most capable character on every page.
In the second book, Drest is fleeing for her life when a deadly price is put on her head. In
this adventure, she meets women who have the power to change her story—a mysterious
healer who helps to arm her, a village wife who protects her, another healer who stands
up to a castle of enemy knights to help Drest escape, and a noblewoman whose voice can
utterly shift the power in the world around Drest.

I want my readers to see women and girls ruling, deciding, making a difference—and
being listened to across the board by all the boys and men in the book because their
voices are crucial. (And I want readers to also see that boys and men can be thoughtful,
compassionate, caring, and able to cry—and not be insulted for crying.)

I’m glad to stand with my fellow 2018 debut authors Sayantani DasGupta and Henry
Lien in depicting strong girls in exciting adventure stories. And there are others leading
the charge in realistic fiction too—Laura Shovan’s Takedown features a young female
wrestler struggling against gender bias, whose male wrestling partner backs her up at
every turn; and Mae Respicio’s The House That Lou Built (the 2019 Asian/Pacific ALA
Honor book for Children’s Literature, by the way) stars a young engineer who plans to
use her skills to build a home, gathering a group of kids of different genders who support
and follow her.

I’m heartened that authors writing for tweens and teens are thinking about this, but there
still needs to be more. And we parents and teachers and librarians need to encourage boys
as well as girls to read these books. Girls can’t be the only ones to read stories that say
their voices matter. And boys can’t be shamed for wanting to read a book with a girl on
the cover, something that happens far too often at school, at libraries, and at home.
When girls and boys both are reading stories where girls’ voices matter, they’re delving
into a crucial model for our real-life world. These models will reinforce and strengthen a
commitment to equality in the real world through that empowerment of girls’ voices.
I want girls and boys to learn from my books, as well as other books challenging
stereotypes, that it’s crucial to question the status quo of gender roles.

And when they see a girl—or woman—being criticized for her looks, her personality, or
her voice, I want all kids to ask why, and to feel empowered to challenge it.


Screen Shot 2019-03-02 at 9.24.04 AMDiane Magras is the author of the New York Times Editors’ Choice The Mad Wolf’s Daughter and its companion novel, The Hunt for the Mad Wolf’s Daughter. She’s obsessed with Scotland, castles, legends, and most things medieval, though from a decidedly contemporary perspective, and always with a feminist bent. Diane works for a cultural nonprofit and lives with her husband and son in the woods in Maine.