Crossing the Line by Bibi Belford, 2017

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Billy’s family has fallen on hard times, what with his da hospitalized after the war and his ma barely scraping by. But it’s no hardship for him when there’s not enough money to pay the tuition for Nativity of Our Lord, the private Catholic school everyone in his neighborhood attends. Billy’s not big on education.

When he transfers to James Ward, a Chicago public school, he finds out there’s a big difference at public school: the kids aren’t all Irish—in fact, they aren’t even all white. It isn’t long before Billy’s found a new best friend in Foster, another fifth grader who also doesn’t have any money, loves baseball, and just happens to be black.

Billy is pretty sure skin color doesn’t matter. Not when he and Foster are just horsing around, playing baseball, working on the docks of the canal, and building a raft at their secret hideout on Bridgeport’s Bubbly Creek. But in the Red Summer of 1919, it does matter.

Whew. I had no idea what I was getting into when I picked up Crossing the Line: I thought it was going to be a rather run-of-the-mill middle-grade novel about some kids who learn to be friends across color lines and defend their choices to the outside world (along the lines of Kristin Levine's The Lions of Little Rock). I suppose it did feature those topics, but there's so much more going on in Crossing the Line than just "crossing social boundaries."

The main character Billy learns some very hard truths over the course of the book. Truths like that some of his friends and family are racist. And that in 1919, with not enough money or jobs to go around, racism can rear its head in terrible, gruesome ways. He learns to walk a thin line, staying pleasant to his racist white friends and keeping distant from his black friends in public but spending all of his free time playing in the woods with his best friend Foster (who is black) and Foster's two older brothers. He hates hiding his friendship with the black boys, feels like a coward for pretending not to know them in public, but he grows to realize over time that by being "selfish" and protecting himself he's actually protecting them from all sorts of terrible things at the hands of the racists.

Belford has said that she decided to write Crossing the Line after gradually becoming aware of her own white privilege, and I definitely see that influence in the book. Billy is forced throughout the story to notice and despise all the ways, little and big, that the color of his skin grant him access to both places and freedoms that Foster isn't allowed. He goes from being nearly oblivious to the inequalities in his world to seeing them everywhere, and he struggles with feeling guilty and trying to find ways to help Foster and his brothers that don't put them in even more danger.

Billy's struggle to recognize, internalize, and prevent the evils of racism is the biggest focus of the book, but there are many other themes tied into the story that make it even more meaningful and thought-provoking. There are no absolutes in this book, no pure good guys and very few total bad guys. Billy's racist best friend Tommy seems like a monster when he's talking about "the blacks who steal our jobs," but he also comes from a deeply troubled, abusive home and has still been a wonderful friend to Billy in some of his most vulnerable moments (including when his da returned with debilitating shell-shock from WWI). Billy's da himself was a wonderful man on the race issue, teaching his children to respect people of all races, but he was also quite sexist: he didn't think his oldest daughter needed to go to high school because all a woman needed to know was how to cook and keep house. And don't even get me started on the policeman, the secretive Russian lodger, Billy's put-upon older sister Mary, and the myriad other side characters who are each drawn with their own nuanced personalities.

Honestly, I absolutely loved Crossing the Line. It's gritty and real and honest in a way that's still okay for younger readers. But that same grittiness and realness and honesty forces me to put a qualification on my recommendation of it: beware giving this book to the gentle children you know, because I promise it will upset (and possibly traumatize) them. There's a scene involving a puppy getting hit with a glass bottle that's not described in detail, but which could also be very upsetting for animal lovers. But once a kid is old enough, this is a book that they need to read. Honestly, I would say that this is a book that everyone needs to read at some point or another. It's definitely far and away one of the best books I've read this year–and that's really saying something.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

42 is Not Just a Number by Doreen Rappaport, 2017

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An eye-opening look at the life and legacy of Jackie Robinson, the man who broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball and became an American hero.

Baseball, basketball, football -- no matter the game, Jackie Robinson excelled. His talents would have easily landed another man a career in pro sports, but such opportunities were closed to athletes like Jackie for one reason: his skin was the wrong color. Settling for playing baseball in the Negro Leagues, Jackie chafed at the inability to prove himself where it mattered most: the major leagues. Then in 1946, Branch Rickey, manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, recruited Jackie Robinson. Jackie faced cruel and sometimes violent hatred and discrimination, but he proved himself again and again, exhibiting courage, determination, restraint, and a phenomenal ability to play the game. In this compelling biography, award-winning author Doreen Rappaport chronicles the extraordinary life of Jackie Robinson and how his achievements won over -- and changed -- a segregated nation.

(128 pages)

I always knew in a vague sort of way that Jackie Robinson was the first African American baseball player, and that this was a Big Deal back in its time. I've never been much into sports, so I never knew much more about Jackie than those basic facts.

42 is Not Just a Number does a really good job of going beyond the basic facts and giving us a good sense of who Jackie was and what he experienced throughout his life–or at least the first few decades of his life; the last twenty years are pretty much skipped over. I think the parts that fascinated me the most, though, were actually the earliest days: his childhood and days in the military before he joined the Dodgers. You know what the single most fascinating thing I learned about Jackie Robinson was? His older brother Mack won a silver Olympic medal in the 200-meter dash in 1936. He received no support from the city of Pasadena when he went off to the Olympics, no ticker-tape parade when he returned, and once he finished competing he literally wound up sweeping the streets of the city at night.

I suppose it's just because of the glory and fame that follows all the Olympic athletes (regardless of race) nowadays, but the sad mental image of this amazing athlete coming so far only to be turned away by every white person in Pasadena is particularly stark and hateful to me. Even now, we all know about Jackie Robinson–but do we know about his brother Mack Robinson, an equally talented athlete in his own right? No, we don't. Not at all.

The other interesting scene that particularly caught my attention was when Jackie got in huge trouble when he sat on a bus next to a black woman whom the driver perceived to be white. Basically, when he got pulled before an authority figure in the army for this "crime," he was disrespectful of the charges and disobedient when ordered to stay in a different room where he wouldn't be allowed to argue his case. He eventually actually went to trial for the offences, and while he was acquitted he was left behind by his platoon. It all ended well, I suppose, since that indirectly led to his becoming a professional baseball player, but the injustice still rankles.

Basically, this is a straightforward and fairly simple, yet still detailed, description of Jackie Robinson's most formative moments. It does skim over some times that I think would have been interesting to know more about, but on the whole it does a good job and makes for an interesting read. If you or someone you know is interested in learning more about Jackie Robinson the human being, then I recommend 42 is Not Just a Number.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.