*This post contains spoilers for The Land of Neverendings by Kate Saunders*
“Why middle grade?”
It’s a question I’m frequently asked now that I have a book coming out (KINGDOM OF SECRETS, releasing on August 3, 2021 from Delacorte Press). My standard answer is about reading to my daughter when she was a baby and rediscovering my old favorites – like Charlotte’s Web – through her eyes. It’s a true story, and a sweet one, but it doesn’t really answer the question. Yes, middle grade books made me fall in love with reading at a tender age, but that doesn’t explain why I love them. I’ve never been able to articulate the why. Until I read The Land of Neverendings by Kate Saunders.
In the novel, young Emily is dealing with the death of her sister, Holly. She’s also mourning the loss of her sister’s favorite teddy bear, Bluey, who was cremated along with his owner. Bluey was the subject of the girls’ elaborate games and stories, in which he and his stuffed animal cohorts lived in a magical land of make-believe called Smockeroon.
One day, much to her surprise, Emily is beckoned into Holly’s bedroom by a group of walking, talking stuffed animals. They inform her that the door to Smockeroon is broken, causing Smockeroon’s magic to leak into the human world. This doesn’t sound so bad, except it’s also causing the sadness of the human world to seep into Smockeroon. Emily is the only one who can set things right, all while secretly believing she’ll find Bluey – and Holly – in the magical place on the other side of the door.
Right off the bat, this book presents one of the most familiar themes in middle grade – letting go of childhood. Emily must say goodbye not only to her sister, but to a teddy bear, the most iconic symbol of childhood there is. The loss of Bluey coincidences with the loss of innocence and clarity that follows Holly’s death. Emily’s parents have become distant and ghostlike. Her best friend has abandoned her for a more popular, less complicated classmate. Her teachers have started treating her differently, and nothing quite makes sense anymore. Emily is suddenly cast into a very bleak, very adult world.
But with the emergence of Smockeroon, her childhood is resurrected for one last, brilliant gasp. (And lest you think the use of toys as a stand-in for childhood is cutesy or on-the-nose, the toys from Smockeroon are flawed and pushy and delightfully weird. Especially the one known as Prison Wendy). Emily’s fascination with Smockeroon quickly becomes problematic as she descends deeper into fantasy and further from reality. As a reader, I found myself rooting for her to find Bluey and immerse herself in the blithe happiness of his world, even as I knew it wasn’t possible and certainly wasn’t healthy. Even though I knew a necessary good-bye was coming.
But this book isn’t just about saying good-bye – it’s about the opposite, too. Emily’s unlikely ally on her adventures is Ruth, a dowdy old neighbor who lost her young son years ago. Ruth is the only other person privy to the toys’ magic, and when she discovers that her son’s playthings, and the stories she invented about them, are alive and well, she’s invigorated. And she’s not the only one.
Everyone in town begins to feel the influence of Smockeroon’s broken door, re-discovering old toys that secretly talk and move and exist. Eventually, Emily’s parents re-engage with the world. She reconciles with her ex-best friend and reaches a truce with the strictest teacher at school. And all because the magic of Smockeroon unites them all, even if Emily and Ruth are the only ones who realize it.
Which brings me back to the question: why middle grade? Because these books meet their readers at the crucial moment when their world is both shrinking and expanding. So much of what they love is suddenly dismissed as silly or childish or not real, while at the same time, there’s a great big world to explore – at once thrilling, scary, and tinged with sadness. It’s when the comforts of childhood are needed most that kids are encouraged to abandon them. Books ushered me through this critical intersection in my own life. It’s no wonder these are still the stories I gravitate toward.
The Land of Neverendings shows us that, while we can’t live in Smockeroon forever, we can take solace knowing it’s still there. Whether you define it as a land of talking toys or something else entirely (imagination, whimsy, wonder, abject silliness…the list goes on), middle grade, at its best, leaves the door to Smockeroon open just a crack. This book, and others like it, suggest that there’s a place for magic in a grown-up world, if we can hold onto it. Because what comes next is daunting, and a little bit of magic goes a long way.