Alpha, Beta, Can we read?
Can we read? No. 156
Last week I had the great fortune of driving an hour to see two of my friends, both wonderfully talented authors and terrific human beings, in conversation with one another at a book launch.
Claire Swinarski — an award-winning author of both middle-grade and adult books, who also happens to write two Substack newsletters, including the wildly successful Claire the Catholic Feminist — was celebrating the launch of her newest middle-grade novel, which has already been mentioned in various places as a 2026 Newbery contender (!!)
I have not had a chance to actually read this new book, Each and Every Spark, because my 11-year-old has not let go of it since that night (I should have bought multiple copies.)
Claire was in conversation with one of my dearest friends, Laura Anne Bird, who I have interviewed here in the past, and who has also contributed a fantastic guest post:

It was a lovely night, made even lovelier by the fact that, in a very surreal moment, I was introduced to someone who already knew me from this newsletter — Meaghan Swanson, aka @bookish_meaghan, who shares book recs and glimpses into her reading life on Instagram. I have never been recognized by a subscriber, like, out in the wild — the Wisconsinite in me was horribly embarrassed at any kind of attention whatsoever, but the newsletter writer was thrilled. (Thank you for making my night, Meaghan!)
I love any reminder that the world is smaller and better than I often believe.
The Midnight Farm by Reeve Lindbergh, illustrated by Susan Jeffers (1987)
🍼 Babies & Toddlers (0–3)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)

This is one of the books I will keep forever, as a reminder of the many nights I read this in a soft voice to my toddlers, hoping to lull them to sleep — it’s a book I can imagine reading to my grandchildren in the same way.
Welcome to a dreamy nighttime world in which a little boy and his mother visit all the animals of the farm as they themselves get ready to settle into the darkness. This hushed time and place — depicted with astounding clarity through Jeffers’ evocative etched pen and watercolor illustrations, which offer quiet comfort — is an excellent antidote to fear of the dark, showing some of the things that go on when human eyes can no longer see so well, in a silent, peaceful, reassuring way.
Part of its perfection lies in the beauty of its lines, and is the reason I love this book so deeply — it is beautifully gentle poetry that escorts tiny folks to sleep.
Alpha Beta Chowder by Jeanne Steig, illustrated by William Steig (1992)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
If you have a poetry lover or a kid who is into wordplay, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, just get your hands on this wacky, wildly funny, genius book.
Here, what begins as a quirky alphabet primer quickly turns into something joyful and unexpected: letters aren’t just letters, they’re ingredients in the most improbable soup of a story. A becomes anchovies, B becomes bananas, C becomes cantaloupe, and before you know it, the pot is boiling over — literally and linguistically. Jeanne’s rhymes — her best work, I think — are delightful, crazy, bouncy. The absurd combinations are perfectly tasty (er, most of the time). And William’s playful art adds, as always, just the right pinch of mischief.
This book doesn’t just teach the alphabet, it makes language taste good on the tongue — in other words, if you’re not reading this one aloud, you’re missing most of the flavor. Will young readers learn from it? Sure, but that’s absolutely not the point of something so weird and delicious.
Mega: The Most Enormous Animals Ever by Jules Howard, illustrated by Gavin Scott (2025)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)
📚 Middle Grade (9–12)
I have to review this one while I can, because my husband keeps taking it from my office to read it. That’s maybe the best possible endorsement I can give a book — he’s not much of a reader, so if a title catches his eye in a home where there are not only mountains of options but also a constant stream of new ones coming through the door, it’s something special.
And trust me, Mega is something special. I read a lot of children’s nonfiction like this — these books also captivate me — but it’s rare that a title really impresses me. This is a superbly well-done and gorgeous book, filled with fascinating information about some of the biggest animals that have ever roamed our earth — some of which have survived, and some of which haven’t. Howard delves into what these creatures were, or are, like, why they got to be so dang big, and the impact they’ve had on our planet. Coupled with Scott’s truly beautiful digital illustrations (see below), this is nonfiction not to be missed — one of the best natural history books I’ve come across in awhile.
Just Like Me by Vanessa Brantley Newton (2020)
🧒 Preschool–Early Reader (3–6)
📖 Independent Readers (6–9)

Brantley is that rare talented person who can do justice to both words and images as an author and illustrator, and her work here is full of playful, colorful pattens, textures, and people — but it’s also an accurate way to describe her poetry, the premise of which is that “there are all kinds of girls: girls who feel happy, sad, scared, powerful; girls who love their bodies and girls who don’t; country girls, city girls; girls who love their mom and girls who wish they had a daddy.”
This is what Brantley writes about on every page — all of this — and as a mother of daughters this is not only the kind of book I have wished for since the moment the ultrasound gave me the best news of my life (on two separate occasions, no less), it’s the kind of book I want so badly to be in the world for all children, regardless of their gender. Boys need to see girls in all their human complexity just as much as girls do, and poetry is a window, if not a door, through which we can all see and step.
Hail Mariam by Huda Al-Marashi (2026)
📚 Middle Grade (9–12)
The back of this book calls it “an interfaith Muslim take on Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret,” which is an almost impossible comparison to live up to — but Al-Marashi actually does it in this thoughtful story about religion, identity, family, and the quiet pressure of representation.
Sixth grade is already full of big feelings and big questions. But for Iraqi American Mariam Hassan, starting at a Catholic school comes with an added assignment: represent Islam well. When she’s cast as Mary in the nativity play, the questions multiply. Can a Muslim girl lead a Christian story? Where is the line between participation and compromise? Meanwhile, her younger sister’s serious lung condition reshapes life at home, where she doesn’t feel seen or listened to by her mother, but she tries so hard to be "good — which in her house means doing well in school and following your religion.
Like many kids in many different situations, Mariam carries more than she should, but Al-Marashi handles it in a balanced way — it’s light without treating any of these issues lightly, funny without dodging difficulty. Above all, it’s a beautiful reminder to readers that faith, like friendship, is about connection, not perfection.
Do me a favor?
If this newsletter has ever helped you find the right book, feel more confident about reading aloud, or simply given you something good to read with your coffee, please consider forwarding it to someone who might enjoy it too. This is very much a word-of-mouth, long-game labor of love, and sharing is how all the books I recommend find their way to the right readers.
Some people who might like this newsletter:
Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other extended family
Your daycare provider or other support folks who help care for your child(ren)
Your kid’s teacher, coach, school librarian, reading specialist, or therapist
The youth librarian(s) and staff at your local library
People you “know” on social media
Anyone in your life who works with children, even if they don’t have them (plenty of your fellow newsletter subscribers don’t have them!)
Thank you, as always, for reading, sharing, and being here — you’re the best 🩷
Sarah








Your your eleven-year-old refusing to let go of it says it all. That's the thing about a physical book that really lands, espeically if it's a good book, it becomes theirs in a way nothing on a screen ever quite does. A painting connecting two girls across eighty years feels like exactly the kind of story children need right now. Adding this to the pile.
Imagine my gasp of surprise, when as I'm catching up on emails in my inbox, I smile opening this latest Substack from Sarah Miller - only to discover she has mentioned my name! And in an equally Wisconsin way, I am happily embarrassed and feel so silly that it was worthy of including in her write up :) It was absolutely lovely to meet you in person. Leave it to Laura Bird to know and connect all the great bookish people. I hope your daughter shares Claire's book with you soon!
I also highly recommend Hail Mariam. The audiobook narration was so sweet, and Mariam is a wonderfully relatable character I think for so many young female readers.
Thank you again for brightening my inbox, and sharing your literacy insights with all of us.