Let’s stop there.

I love this novel about a national park with dragons, which is also a meditation on parenting, communication, and memory. The premise alone was enough to sell me on this 2007 novel by the author of a dozen or so smart, humane, chatty fantasy novels, but I’ll give you a little more detail to explain why I love it so much.

Jake Mendoza is the teenage son of the director of the dragon studies institute at Smokehill, a chronically underfunded, understaffed dragon reserve. Almost no one sees the dragons on the millions of acres of parkland; Smokehill rangers track dragon population by counting the casualties among wild sheep, deer, and bison. Smokehill also has a very strange dragon-proof (and more importantly, poacher-proof) fence. Jake and his father are both devastated by the death of Jake’s mother three years before on a dragon study sabbatical in Kenya (the world’s only preserves for the endangered dragons are at Smokehill, in Kenya, and in Australia, to which dragons are native. The detail in Dragonhaven on the rediscovery and near-extinction of dragons and the politics of protecting enormous, flying, endangered species is right on.)

The following happens in the first 50 pages of the book, so don’t fear spoilers. Jake is belatedly allowed to do his first solo hike in the park and stumbles upon a dragon. It’s not just a dragon, which he has never seen up close before, but a dragon who has just given birth, which no one in the records has ever seen. And not only that, the dragon is dying, shot by a poacher. These are all unthinkably strange things, but Jake is focused only on the surviving baby dragon, who he saves and tries to raise, despite knowing — because of that complicated legislative picture — that it’s illegal to save the life of a dragon.

The relationship between Jake and Lois the baby dragon and the serious parenting crash course Jake has to undertake (what do you feed a baby dragon and how do you keep it from burning you? How can you do anything else when she needs feeding every half hour?) is compelling and all-consuming and feels true. The book is structured as a memoir Jake is writing to explain the events at Smokehill to a national audience, and he explains that he was so short of sleep while raising Lois that some of those years were a blur. Jake’s voice really does feel like a teenager’s voice and it sells you on the story and its required suspensions of disbelief because you trust that it happened the way Jake said it, even if he didn’t understand the larger political ramifications.

There are excellent small observations: because it seems absurd to Jake to say “Good dragon, Lois” like he was talking to a dog, he says “Hot stuff, Lois!” as a praise-phrase. And it’s exactly right that interspecies telepathy would cause terrible headaches.

If the book had a different cover I could see it being sold as a thrilling adventure novel, or as a touching book about parents and children. As it is, look for it in the young adult section of your bookstore or library.

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Suzanne Fischer is a historian and writer who lives in Detroit. She cares about people, places, and things. Find her on Twitter as @publichistorian

Not to mention, when I was growing up no one I knew was reading them. I don’t think I heard much about Harry Potter until the first movie came out in 2001, I was a junior in high school and reading Toni Morrison — for school — and Tom Clancy — for fun. But these reasons didn’t work on my coworkers. While most are my age or a few years younger, quite a few of them didn’t read the Harry Potter books until high school or college, so my age was no longer a factor. I had seen a few movies and I knew most of the spoilers — who dies, who marries who at the end, who isn’t as bad as you thought they were at the beginning — and I just wasn’t interested in reading these books since I knew the ending. This did not go over well.

So I made a compromise. I told my Potter-obsessed coworkers that if I ever had kids, which I didn’t plan on having, and if those kids wanted to read Harry Potter, I would read the books too. I still got a few, “Isn’t this new HP Lego set cool, oh wait you never read the books” comments, but for the most part the subject was laid to rest.

Well, here we are over a year later and I am indeed pregnant. I’m probably the only person who remembers this Harry Potter reading deal I made, but I’ve been thinking on it a lot. Mostly because I am a reader and I want my little boy to be a reader too. I already have a little library started, thanks to my mother and the children’s book manager at my store. I’ve tried reading aloud to my belly, but it feels really weird. Despite the fact that I regularly talk to myself aloud, reading a picture book to something that can’t see or really understand what I’m saying feels like something a crazy person would do.

I’m excited to read to my baby once he’s in the world and see him grow and learn to read for himself. I know Harry Potter is a good series, so I will be happy to have him read those books. The main reason I agreed to read them if I had a child was because if my kid is like most people he’ll love the books and want to talk about them. I would love to be a part of that conversation.

I also think it’s important to know what your kid is reading. Depending on how young he is when he starts I want to know what the series have in store as the books get longer and a little scarier. Since he won’t have to wait a year for the new book to come out, he won’t be growing up with Harry, my son could read them all in a row and I want to make sure the content is appropriate. I’ve had enough parents of 8 year-olds come in to buy The Hunger Games to understand that knowing the content of the books your child is reading is important.

“There’s not any sex in this book is there?”
“Uh, no ma’am, just a lot of killing and some torture.”
“Oh ok, we’ll take it.”

I know some people don’t want to read every book their teen or preteen is reading, but there are resources and book sellers who can tell you that The Hunger Games is coded for ages 13 and older for a reason. The world in that trilogy is scary and people die left and right. When your main character is told to kill or be killed you need more than 8 years of life under your belt to deal with it.

Right now though I just have to deal with Dr. Seuss and board books. The baby isn’t due until October and I can worry about whether he wants to read Harry Potter in a decade. I’m building my stack of kids books and learning to talk to the little guy who’s growing inside me, not just myself. Maybe I’ll even read to him soon. Though, to be honest, I would rather read the second Sandman Slim book, Kill the Dead, aloud to my belly than The Lorax. I’ll even skip the swear words.

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Kelly Hannon works in an indie bookstore, is editing her first novel, and blogs about annoying people at www.letterstopeopleihate.com. Follow her on Twitter @KellyMHannon

Superheroes are for boys!

With these four words, my five year-old niece Siobhan cut right through my chest and pulled out my heart. She was so adamant when she said it, you’d think it had been on the news or something. Admittedly, five year-olds tend to be adamant about everything, from why the purple crayon is critical for coloring success to how mean little sisters can be. For a moment, though, I was crushed. This point-of-fact explanation about what was right for boys and for girls struck me harder than I would have expected, despite already hearing about princesses and ponies for hours on end. I love princesses and ponies, so it never occurred to me that the little girl standing in front of me wouldn’t like superheroes. I mean, she’s a human child, right? And we’re related?

As I am not a parent myself, I naturally take any grand pronouncement by a child more than 30 years my junior as a challenge to be met head-on. I get to go home or to my hotel if it ends in tears — for either party — so there’s no reason not to meet this crazy talk with a bit of moxie. It turns out though, “Nuh-Uh!” proclaimed over and over does not make for a compelling argument, especially when shouted by a gentleman pushing forty. I had to get organized, develop a strategy. This was war and I needed to marshal my troops. But just what was going to convince a little girl that superheroes can be for everyone? And more importantly, is it going to be something I can stand to read as well?

Age 5

I knew right away that I had to wow the kid. Nothing says “wow” quite like Art Balthazar and Franco. This magical creative team has produced many outstanding kid-friendly comic books, but none so unbelievably fun as Tiny Titans. Published as 50 monthly issues by DC Comics and collected in readily available softcover books, Tiny Titans features kid versions of practically every character to ever grace the pages of seminal superhero comic Teen Titans. Robin, Batgirl, Wonder Girl, Cyborg, Starfire and all their friends attend Sidekick City Elementary School, have short adventures, meet for play dates, and just generally have an awesome fun time. Full of gimmicks, puns and kooky jokes, Tiny Titans pulls out all the stops to entertain the kids but never forgets that adults are the ones buying the books for them. Whether the team inexplicably change into monkeys for an issue or just wear berets and round up penguins loose from the Batcave, there are hilarious antics in every story that will delight little girls (or boys) and grown-ups alike.

In fact, savvy comic book fans will find in-jokes peppered throughout the series, such as young Wonder Girl discovering her “secret orange.” Every issue introduces at least one additional hero to the cast, opening up a world of characters and possibilities for your little girl to fall in love with. As far as introductions to the world of superheroes go, I really don’t think one can do better. And for beginning readers, Art Balthazar also contributes to a series of DC Super Pets books that have already received rave reviews from more than one of my nieces. The plan is coming together well.

Age 8

Now we’re getting into less pliable territory, as I find it much more difficult to tell an eight year-old girl what to like and have them not just roll their eyes in response. “Why would I like what you like, Uncle Matt? You’re old. . . like twenty!” Torn between feeling flattered and devastated, I soldier on with a book that’s already been vetted by a kid.

Published by the Icon imprint at Marvel Comics, Takio is the brainchild of Powers creative team Brian Michael Bendis and Mike Oeming, with byline earning assist from Brian’s young daughter Olivia. Takio introduces Taki and Olivia, sisters in a blended race family with a single mother, who get super-powers after getting caught in a mysterious explosion. Olivia (age 7) immediately wants to don tights and become a superhero, while Taki (age 13) remains much more skeptical of their developing Kung Fu Telekinesis Yes, you read it. Kung Fu Telekinesis. Rising from this accident is also Taki’s best friend Kelly Sue, who seems destined to become an archenemy of sorts to the lead actors. What results from this brilliant casting is a book that sounds more real and honest to me than any other depiction of girls today.

Taki and Olivia are uniquely intelligent, conscientious (but adventurous) girls with the kind of hot/cold relationship that just rings true for sisters separated by six years. Oeming’s art style is attractively cartoony, yet succeeds in conveying real fear or glee with his characters’ expressions when necessary. Bendis never forgets that the girls are indeed children, but also never dumbs down their dialogue to what a kid “should sound like” to an adult. When this book debuted in 2011, I purchased multiple copies to give as gifts to pretty much anyone who likes good writing and would appreciate seeing girls kick ass without resorting to titillation. Reportedly, my eight year-old niece Leela devoured the book in one sitting upon receipt in the mail. I’m not sure any compliment I could give the book can measure up to that.

Age 11

Given the popularity of teen-centered dramas on television, especially among even younger tween girls, you would think books like Marvel Comics’ Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane would be falling off the trucks on Wednesdays. Telling the tale of high school freshman Mary Jane Watson — famously known as Spider-Man’s girlfriend — from her own perspective, writer Sean McKeever crafts a story that would put any ABC Family show to shame. Mary Jane is smart, talented, happy at times, conflicted at others, and always making her own decisions about life, good and bad. Like many teen girls, Mary Jane has boy trouble, but McKeever is careful to never let the boys in her life define her, even the titular Spider-Man himself. She’s a free thinker, emotional and, in some instances, refreshingly raw. Crushing on Spider-Man isn’t about wanting to be a damsel in distress. Mary Jane sees someone out in the world pursuing a passion and mostly she just isn’t sure what hers is.

Artist Takeshi Miyazawa beautifully conveys a quiet seriousness, even amid dialogue-heavy scenes, shedding light upon Mary Jane’s teenage façade. The bright and large-paneled pages reflect the extremes of adolescent emotion and reinforce just how hard-felt every experience is at that age. With no swearing, drugs, alcohol or sexual innuendo, this book is the perfect comic to slide under an eleven year-old girl’s slammed door without having to worry about sending the wrong message. Who knows? A book like this may inspire a lifetime of superhero love. And if it doesn’t, Mary Jane is still one shining example of what the comics medium can do to represent the complexity of young girls, even if they don’t dream about running around on rooftops in a mask and cape.

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Matt Santori-Griffith owns one business suit, three pairs of shoes, and over 15,000 comic books. He works a day job as an art director for several non-profit organizations, but spends his dark nights and weekends fighting the good fight on Twitter.com in the guise of @FotoCub. He has not yet saved the world, but isn’t giving up quite yet.

Ibbotson (1925-2010), the beloved and bestselling author of chapter books for children such as Which Witch? and Journey to the River Sea, also wrote a number of charming historical romances during the 1980s and 1990s, all recently reissued as YA. (Ibbotson wrote them for adults and was surprised at their popularity among YA audiences.) In each book, a headstrong heroine finds herself in an unfamiliar situation (for instance, the Russian countess, exiled after the Great War, who works as a servant in an English country house in A Countess Below Stairs) where she eventually charms everyone and finds love. The characters are immediately relatable, and their emotions are deeply felt.

Ibbotson and her family fled Vienna for London on the eve of World War II, and that flight colors these novels, where love always comes after struggle, and the happily ever afters are always bittersweet. It is the two world wars that shatter the illusion that St Petersburg (A Countess Below Stairs) and Vienna (A Song for Summer, The Morning Gift) will ever be the friendly, carefree places where her heroines grew up surrounded by love.

The books have flaws, of course. The villians are entirely too villainous: Rupert’s fiancee in A Countess Below Stairs is entirely hateful, a eugenicist who insults and mistreats the mentally disabled kitchen maid and the kind Jewish neighbors; and Harriet’s closeminded father in A Company of Swans, who refuses to let her dance in the ballet company (or matriculate at Cambridge, where he is a famous professor) is a one-note caricature of the kind of family one would run away to South America with a ballet company from.

There is always an idyll in these books, a sense that joy is too good to last. This is pronounced in A Song For Summer, where Ellen, the practical daughter of suffragettes who is unaccountably gifted at housekeeping, becomes the matron at an alternative school in Austria and transforms all the rich, eccentric students and teachers with her kindness and levelheadedness. Ellen falls in love with the school’s caretaker, a Czech concert violinist who has resigned his position in protest against the Reich. Everything is about to end. Ellen and Marek will find each other again after the war, changed. We, the readers, know that the beautiful valley, the children, the storks, the still lake, and Ellen and Marek cannot stay there forever. But how we wish they could.

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Suzanne Fischer is a historian and writer who lives in Detroit. She cares about people, places, and things. Find her on Twitter as @publichistorian