It’s a Graphic Novel. It’s for Kids. You Need to Read It.

I have an annual tradition. Every January I request the latest Newbery award winner from the library. For the first time ever, this year’s award winner was a graphic novel.

I can see why it won.

C.S. Lewis once said, “A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.” Since he died before the term “graphic novel” was even coined, I’m sure he didn’t have stories like New Kid in mind when he said that. But this book fits his definition of a good children’s story: it can be enjoyed equally by children and adults.

New Kid is about Jordan Banks, a middle-class black kid who is starting seventh grade at an elite private school. He’d rather go to art school, but his mother wants to set him up for success in life. His father reluctantly agrees with her, telling Jordan he should at least give Riverdale Academy Day School (“RAD”) a try.

Jordan faces many of the challenges we all went through when we were his age. On the first day of school, older kids oust Jordan and his fellow seventh-graders from their lunch table, explaining, “This table is for sophomores.” He yearns for a growth spurt. He’s bogged down with homework. And when he has a heart-to-heart conversation with Alexandra — the weirdest kid in his grade — he’s afraid she will kiss him.

But he also gives readers the opportunity to see middle school through the eyes of a black person. For black readers, this can be refreshing. For white readers, it can be educational.

On his first day at school, Jordan scans the hallways for another kid who looks like him. As the school year progresses, he deals with all of the assumptions people make because of the color of his skin. As he takes public transportation between Washington Heights and Riverdale, he adjusts the way he looks to fit in. In Riverdale, he writes, “I do my best not to look cool AT ALL! No shades, and definitely no hood. I don’t even like to draw, ’cause people might think I’m going to use my markers to ‘tag the bus.'”

He also has to live with the awkwardness white people express around him as they try not to be racist. His soccer coach, whom he generally likes, tells him, “Just get out there and run fast. I know you can do that! I mean, because you look athletic! Not because… you know… We’re all created equal, Jordan. I really believe that.”

Partway through the school year, Jordan attends a book fair and reflects on the differences between “mainstream” books and “African American” books. In his sketchbook, he draws book covers and imagines reviews. A mainstream book review might read “A thrilling magical tale that is sure to inspire readers of all ages to never give up until they have found the treasure they seek.” Jordan contrasts that with his imagined review for an African American book: “A gritty, urban reminder of the grit of today’s urban grittiness.” Craft’s graphic novel defies this stereotype. Jordan’s challenge is not surviving the mean streets; it’s navigating between two worlds and wondering if he fits into either.

It’s been a long time since I was in seventh grade. I know I’m not the best judge of Craft’s ability to capture adolescence, but I believe he did it well. The difficulties of that age, like feeling awkward and wanting to fit in, don’t change much. Only the details change. Craft’s details like Xboxes and slang (“‘Hanging out,’ Mom,” Jordan tells his mother. “Not ‘hooking up.'”) seem to fit.

I will be putting a copy of New Kid in my Little Free Library. I have a feeling that whoever picks it up will be delighted.