Review by New York Times Review
FOR THE sensitive tween who's starting middle school, one wrong word, a single miscalculated fashion decision or lunch table choice, and her whole world may seem as if it's been blown to bits. And what's a kid to do once she has, inevitably, stomped down full-force on a reputation-exploding landmine? This predicament faces Beatrix Lee, a 12-year-old poet, after a public humiliation leaves her ostracized and fragile. Fearful of misstepping again, Bea has quickly taught herself to "Go Stealth," hiding behind music-less headphones and speaking so rarely that her words back up inside her. Even the poems she writes are invisible - haiku composed in lemon juice and water, which she tucks inside a hole in a wall on a wooded path, where no one could possibly stumble upon them. In a welcome divergence from the traditional coming-of-age novel, Kat Yeh's "The Way to Bea" is not the story of a young girl discovering who she is, but rather a girl who knows from harsh experience that being yourself can be the fastest way to trouble. Yeh, the author of "The Truth About Twinkie Pie," has created an indelible character in Bea. Her story shines most brightly in its juxtaposition of Bea's "true" self - in all its dancing-on-the-sidewalkand-colored-bath-bombs-in-the-pool vibrancy - with the "blank page" she presents to the world. An intuitive creature, Bea counts out the beats of the haiku she writes on her fingers, thumping the syllables against her chest until she has a "bahbump moment." So she understands, with heartbreaking clarity, that sometimes she's seen as "too much," just by virtue of being her. She knows, too, that she's not nearly as strong and brave as her pregnant artist mother, who paints enormous blue nude self portraits and tells her daughter, "Whatever you feel on the inside is what you put out there in the universe." Nor is Bea as goofy and kind as her graphic-novelist father, whose latest creation - a Taiwanese superhero named Sky, who can draw objects into existence - has won him legions of fans. While on the surface her parents' loving but lax approach to childrearing seems ideal, Bea sometimes feels like little more than an interruption in their otherwise dreamy love story. She doesn't feel entirely at home in the offices of the school newspaper, either, where she's been named the first-ever seventh-grade poetry editor. It's there she meets Briggs, a fedora-wearing eighth grader who is clearly enamored by Bea and her work - a development that causes Bea further anxiety. "He smiles at me in this sweet awkward way that makes me wish people didn't have to start liking people in a way that wasn't just friendship," Bea muses. "Because I just really, really like Briggs." Bea does find a fellow outcast to help steer a course through middle school - Will, who may be "Planning Smart" and "Observing Smart," but certainly isn't "People Smart." Will, who we are left to assume falls somewhere on the autism spectrum, has an obsession with labyrinths and is single-mindedly planning to break into the grounds of an eccentric billionaire, where the third-largest labyrinth in the country is thought to be cloistered. Unlike a maze with its twisty trails and blind alleys, Will explains, a modern labyrinth is made up of a single path that winds toward a central spot. There are no choices to make, no wrong turns, and walking a labyrinth is said to create a Zen-like calm. The idea of a decision-free path strikes a chord with Bea, and she joins Will in his scheme. If the ensuing adventure relies a little too heavily on coincidence and conveniently dropped morsels of information, the resulting escapade is worth it, for Bea and for the reader. The trip through the labyrinth itself makes for a gorgeously terrifying climax, and Bea's ultimate plunge into the heart of the unknown is triumphant. It's refreshing to find a children's novel that refrains from offering the pat advice to "just be yourself," and instead explores the messier truth that sometimes you have to decide when and by whom the most vulnerable bits of your personality might be best received. When a mysterious stranger discovers Bea's invisible poems in the hole in the wall - and not only knows the trick to read them but encourages Bea to write more - Bea feels she's been saved from "eternal invisibility." Whether this will be her salvation or her undoing is the larger question we are left pondering. ? LISA GRAFF'S most recent middle-grade novel is "The Great Treehouse War."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 27, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review
Who knew middle school could be such a maze? The free-spirited daughter of locally famous artists, Taiwanese American Beatrix Lee has always found solace in her poetry and her best friend, S. But as she enters seventh grade, she finds that S is avoiding her, choosing her normal friends over quirky, energetic Bea. With only her poetry to comfort her, Bea begins to leave haikus written in invisible ink in a secret spot in the woods behind her house, only to discover that an invisible friend begins writing back. Readers will quickly become engrossed in guessing the identity of Bea's pen pal. The compassionate school librarian? Briggs, the eccentric editor of the school newspaper, who memorizes Bea's poetry? Or Will, a new friend (whom, through a note in her acknowledgments, Yeh characterizes as on the autism spectrum) whose single-mindedness leads both him and Bea to break into a famous local labyrinth? In her second middle-grade novel, Yeh shines in depicting the loneliness, awkwardness, and angst that reign over the preteen years.--Kuss, Rebecca Copyright 2017 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
At the end of sixth grade, avid poetry writer Beatrix "Bea" Lee had close friends, but she's starting seventh grade as a social outcast after embarrassing herself at a pool party. Bea tries to fly under the radar, but as the school newspaper's new poetry editor, she starts making friends who embrace her as she is: Briggs, the Broadside's exuberant editor in chief, and Will, an autistic student who hangs out in the newspaper office. Will is obsessed with walking the hedge labyrinth on a nearby private estate, and Bea decides to help. She's also having a secret correspondence: someone has begun reading and responding to the poems Bea writes in invisible ink and hides on school grounds. Yeh (The Truth About Twinkie Pie) homes in on the pain of not fitting in and of being discarded by a trusted friend (in a telling detail, Bea's narration avoids even saying her former friends' names, using only their initials). Bea's social missteps will be excruciatingly relatable to many readers, and her slow journey to self-acceptance is moving and wise. Ages 8-12. Agent: Sarah Davies, Greenhouse Literary. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 5-8-Seventh grader Beatrix Lee puts a lot of faith in haiku. Since her family and friendships are changing dramatically, Bea abandons her love of free verse poetry and takes solace in the haiku's dependable five-seven-five rhyme scheme. After an embarrassing incident at a pool party causes a painful rift with her longtime best friend, Bea writes most of her poetry in invisible ink, a reflection of the loneliness she feels at school and at home, where her parents are happily preparing for a new baby. Bea's love of words starts to reemerge with the encouragement of a supportive librarian who introduces her to the kids at Broadside, the school newspaper. During lunch time, Bea takes refuge in the Broadside office, where she meets Briggs, the paper's editor, who makes her feel like a valued member of a team, and Will, who is obsessed with labyrinths. When Bea decides to show Will a labyrinth that belongs to a wealthy and mysterious local resident, she learns the identity of the person who is leaving notes for her in a secret spot near her house. As Bea works her way through the maze of new friendships and a new role in her family, she begins to see herself and her friends more clearly. Readers will connect with Bea's first-person narrative of her winding path toward discovering her strengths. VERDICT This character-driven story is a winning combination of humor, heart, and redemption. Recommended for all libraries.-Shelley Sommer, Inly School, Scituate, MA © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Yeh (The Truth about Twinkie Pie, 2015) explores mazes, friendship, and individuality. Taiwanese-American budding poet Beatrix Lee, taking after her free-spirited artist parents, has always danced to the beat of her own playlist. But she enters seventh grade resolved to be as invisible as the ink she writes with. Lately, her best friend, S, has grown painfully and realistically distant, finding Bea's exuberance embarrassing. However, an invisible friend has begun answering the soul-searching poems Bea tucks into a wall. Is it the empathetic librarian who always recommends the right book? Or Briggs, the offbeat white student who edits the school newspaper and who likes her poetry? Or Will, the analytical white boy who's fascinated with labyrinths (and whom readers may identify as autistic)? Part friend and part plot device, Will resembles one of Bea's haiku, delivering sharp insights within the rigid structures of his routines. When Bea decides to help Will break into a famous local labyrinth via convenient plot loopholes, their plan takes an unexpected turn, and Bea must decide who her real friends are. When Bea emerges from the intricately drawn maze of her conflicting feelings, she makes a mature decision with a compassionate twist. The author includes a list of the songs in Bea's soundtrack, but her allusions to other books go unidentified, enjoyable Extra Credit Curveballs (as Bea's teacher would call them). Gets to the heart of middle school awkwardness like a sympathetic haiku. (Fiction. 9-13) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
