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Different Kinds of Fruit
In this funny and hugely heartfelt novel from a Stonewall Award winner, an sixth-grader’s life is turned upside down when she learns her dad is trans
Annabelle Blake fully expects this school year to be the same as every other: same teachers, same classmates, same, same, same. So she’s elated to discover there’s a new kid in town. To Annabelle, Bailey is a breath of fresh air. She loves hearing about their life in Seattle, meeting their loquacious (and kinda corny) parents, and hanging out at their massive house. And it doesn’t hurt that Bailey has a cute smile, nice hands (how can someone even have nice hands?) and smells really good.
Suddenly sixth grade is anything but the same. And when her irascible father shares that he and Bailey have something big–and surprising–in common, Annabelle begins to see herself, and her family, in a whole new light. At the same time she starts to realize that her community, which she always thought of as home, might not be as welcoming as she had thought. Together Annabelle, Bailey, and their families discover how these categories that seem to mean so much—boy, girl, gay, straight, fruit, vegetable—aren’t so clear-cut after all.
Annabelle Blake fully expects this school year to be the same as every other: same teachers, same classmates, same, same, same. So she’s elated to discover there’s a new kid in town. To Annabelle, Bailey is a breath of fresh air. She loves hearing about their life in Seattle, meeting their loquacious (and kinda corny) parents, and hanging out at their massive house. And it doesn’t hurt that Bailey has a cute smile, nice hands (how can someone even have nice hands?) and smells really good.
Suddenly sixth grade is anything but the same. And when her irascible father shares that he and Bailey have something big–and surprising–in common, Annabelle begins to see herself, and her family, in a whole new light. At the same time she starts to realize that her community, which she always thought of as home, might not be as welcoming as she had thought. Together Annabelle, Bailey, and their families discover how these categories that seem to mean so much—boy, girl, gay, straight, fruit, vegetable—aren’t so clear-cut after all.
320 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 12, 2022
50 people are currently reading
4172 people want to read
About the author
Kyle Lukoff
27 books291 followersKyle Lukoff writes books for kids and other people.
Before becoming a full-time writer, Kyle worked at five bookstores, in four libraries, for three schools, as two genders, through one intersection: people, and books.
Before becoming a full-time writer, Kyle worked at five bookstores, in four libraries, for three schools, as two genders, through one intersection: people, and books.
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April 6, 2022
I am so torn about how to write and talk about this book. On the one hand, I think it’s super important to have stories for younger readers about trans parents, particularly those who begin transitioning long before their kid’s birth. The tension between Annabelle’s dad, who is a trans guy with pretty traditional views on gender and transition, and Bailey, Annabelle’s nonbinary friend, is not a dynamic we see in middle grade, ever. All of those perspectives are super interesting and worth exploring in books for kids.
On the other hand, this book is bad. Sorry. It’s so bad.
I’m not going to quote directly from the text, because that’s a misuse of an ARC, and I’m also not going to tag spoilers. I welcome other perspectives on this one, truly. I can almost, kind of understand why someone would like it just for the premise alone. But on a basic DNA level, this book does not work for me. I would argue it doesn’t work, period.
One major issue I have is with the voice. Annabelle, our narrator, is a sixth grader with the personality and voice of a second grader. Obviously I’m all for middle grade that will appeal to younger readers–everybody likes reading about kids who are older than them, after all–but that’s not really what’s happening here. Juxtaposed with Annabelle’s constant meandering inner monologue is narrative description that isn’t even trying to be for kids, or to sound like a kid is thinking it. There are several uses of the word “aggrieved,” for instance, and people raise their eyebrows “archly,” which is jarring to read in the middle of a paragraph about how fun it is to roll around on the floor. The author jumps in and out of kid-voice whenever it’s convenient.
There’s also absolutely no nuance when it comes to the other characters. Annabelle’s dad is a miserable, self-hating guy for twenty-five years, then makes a full 180 in two weeks, just in time for National Coming Out Day. The “you can’t teach sex to kindergartners” villain character, one of the other parents at school, has no depth whatsoever. Bailey, Annabelle’s nonbinary classmate, is a perfect, unerring representative of the trans community–they’re thin, white, masculine, swoopy-haired; they always know precisely what to say to describe or defend themselves and never make a mistake, much like any eleven-year-old. When Bailey meets Annabelle’s parents–who, frankly, were so tense and unhappy in every scene that they stressed me out–they are able to immediately and articulately refute any arguments against their identity, readily confronting these strange adults’ biases at the dinner table. Annabelle’s crush on Bailey, which features prominently throughout the book, resolves without fanfare, and in the end she’s dating a different classmate who is mentioned approximately twice throughout the book.
It’s not for me to say whether presenting kids with these fantasies of the “””ideal””” trans person is beneficial or destructive, but it sure is a particular point of view. I’m also not going to get too far into the weeds on Annabelle’s dad, who came out as trans in the late 90’s and is a sort of Buck Angel, “you have to suffer to be truly trans” type of dude. He’s presented like last year’s New Year’s baby, now an ancient husk to be supplanted by Bailey’s modern political viewpoint. And he is–within about three weeks of meeting Bailey, he’s suddenly totally cool with coming out in front of the entire sixth grade after being stealth for over twenty years. Sure! Whatever! The issue is that so much of the book requires the reader to not only empathize with the adult characters, but to make assumptions and predictions about their inner lives based on their often-irrational behavior, which is a lot to ask of a young reader. It seems like those scenes aren’t really crafted with a kid’s reading experience in mind at all.
Mostly, this book is going to appeal to adults who enjoy seeing concepts like “t4t” explained in a middle grade book. I genuinely cannot imagine a child who will enjoy this, which means it’ll probably win the Newbery. It’s a bummer, because I loved Too Bright to See–I thought it was beautifully written and thoughtfully told, neither of which I can say about this one. We’ve gotten some really great middle grade trans narratives in the last few years–I don’t necessarily think it’s worth bothering with this one.
On the other hand, this book is bad. Sorry. It’s so bad.
I’m not going to quote directly from the text, because that’s a misuse of an ARC, and I’m also not going to tag spoilers. I welcome other perspectives on this one, truly. I can almost, kind of understand why someone would like it just for the premise alone. But on a basic DNA level, this book does not work for me. I would argue it doesn’t work, period.
One major issue I have is with the voice. Annabelle, our narrator, is a sixth grader with the personality and voice of a second grader. Obviously I’m all for middle grade that will appeal to younger readers–everybody likes reading about kids who are older than them, after all–but that’s not really what’s happening here. Juxtaposed with Annabelle’s constant meandering inner monologue is narrative description that isn’t even trying to be for kids, or to sound like a kid is thinking it. There are several uses of the word “aggrieved,” for instance, and people raise their eyebrows “archly,” which is jarring to read in the middle of a paragraph about how fun it is to roll around on the floor. The author jumps in and out of kid-voice whenever it’s convenient.
There’s also absolutely no nuance when it comes to the other characters. Annabelle’s dad is a miserable, self-hating guy for twenty-five years, then makes a full 180 in two weeks, just in time for National Coming Out Day. The “you can’t teach sex to kindergartners” villain character, one of the other parents at school, has no depth whatsoever. Bailey, Annabelle’s nonbinary classmate, is a perfect, unerring representative of the trans community–they’re thin, white, masculine, swoopy-haired; they always know precisely what to say to describe or defend themselves and never make a mistake, much like any eleven-year-old. When Bailey meets Annabelle’s parents–who, frankly, were so tense and unhappy in every scene that they stressed me out–they are able to immediately and articulately refute any arguments against their identity, readily confronting these strange adults’ biases at the dinner table. Annabelle’s crush on Bailey, which features prominently throughout the book, resolves without fanfare, and in the end she’s dating a different classmate who is mentioned approximately twice throughout the book.
It’s not for me to say whether presenting kids with these fantasies of the “””ideal””” trans person is beneficial or destructive, but it sure is a particular point of view. I’m also not going to get too far into the weeds on Annabelle’s dad, who came out as trans in the late 90’s and is a sort of Buck Angel, “you have to suffer to be truly trans” type of dude. He’s presented like last year’s New Year’s baby, now an ancient husk to be supplanted by Bailey’s modern political viewpoint. And he is–within about three weeks of meeting Bailey, he’s suddenly totally cool with coming out in front of the entire sixth grade after being stealth for over twenty years. Sure! Whatever! The issue is that so much of the book requires the reader to not only empathize with the adult characters, but to make assumptions and predictions about their inner lives based on their often-irrational behavior, which is a lot to ask of a young reader. It seems like those scenes aren’t really crafted with a kid’s reading experience in mind at all.
Mostly, this book is going to appeal to adults who enjoy seeing concepts like “t4t” explained in a middle grade book. I genuinely cannot imagine a child who will enjoy this, which means it’ll probably win the Newbery. It’s a bummer, because I loved Too Bright to See–I thought it was beautifully written and thoughtfully told, neither of which I can say about this one. We’ve gotten some really great middle grade trans narratives in the last few years–I don’t necessarily think it’s worth bothering with this one.
February 3, 2022
Books for children are exceedingly difficult to write.
Wait . . . no. No. Scratch that. Let me try again.
Books for children are exceedingly difficult to write WELL. I mean, any putz (and I do mean any) can string enough words together to fill 32-pages, call it a picture book, and call it a day. And yes, children’s novels take a little more time, but there are plenty of bad ones out there. When those novels attempt to go in directions that introduce kids to topics that haven’t ever been tackled in literature for kids before, that’s important. However, just because an author writes about important stuff, that doesn’t automatically make their book good. I mean, I wish it did. But there are plenty of “important” poorly written books for kids out there. Honestly, I sort of feel it’s par for the course at this point. You break down the barriers with the mediocre "important" books, and that allows the great writers to come along and make their mark later. I say all this because once in a while you get lucky. You might actually find an author breaking down barriers who is also a great writer. Kyle Lukoff falls into that category. I mean, it was pretty evident when he was publishing picture books like the Max series and When Aidan Became a Brother. It was remarkably satisfying to see him win a Newbery Honor for Too Bright to See as well. Turns out, all of that was merely an Overture for the real show. With Different Kinds of Fruit Kyle (a trans author himself) is stretching his muscles. Because he’s not just tackling subjects that have never been tackled in children’s novels before. He’s tackling subjects that I’d wager a lot of adults may have never even known about. And the kids? They’re ready for it.
Annabelle didn’t ask for such a boring life, but what are ya gonna do? She lives with her mom and dad in the suburbs, attends a small school with the same kids she’s known since Kindergarten, and that’s the long and short of it. Then she meets Bailey. Bailey is different from every other kid Annabelle has ever known. First off, they use they/them pronouns because they’re non-binary. They know about LGBTQIA+ issues that Annabelle had never even heard of before. But when Annabelle’s parents start acting really really weird about Bailey’s appearance in school, she starts to fret that they might be homophobic. Turns out, her parents have a couple secrets of their own that they’ve been hiding all these years. Maybe it’s time to start standing up, not just for other people, but for yourself as well.
I want to say right from the start that I’m including spoilers in this review, so you should probably know that before you read much further. This is kind of a bummer for me, because going into this book blind, with just that cute gee-we’re-just-your-typical-middle-grade-novel cover to look at, turned out to be the ideal way to read this book. There is this jaw-dropping gut punch of a reveal in Chapter Eight that completely upset the applecart when it came to my expectations. Until that moment I thought this book was going to tread in pretty safe territory. Girl meets non-binary friend. Parents are bigots that must learn. Girl comes out to parents as gay and by the end everything is peaches and cream. But when a dad character says to you, “I’m your father. I’m transgender. And your mother didn’t give birth to you, I did”, that’s the moment you realize that you’re not in Kansas anymore. A nice way to build tension in your middle grade fiction is certainly to have this perception that your life and family have no secrets and then that peace of mind is shattered with a felling blow because “a stranger comes to town” (h/t to you, Joseph Campbell). I expected that. What I didn’t expect was a deep dive into inter-trans politics involving pregnancy, how semantics have changed within the community over the last 30 years, and more. I didn’t even have the language to begin to imagine a book for kids grappling with all of this. It’s a lot and Kyle packs it in like he’s only got one shot at this and he’s going to give it his all.
Kyle’s performing such a juggling act with his characters that this book should be a case study in how to inform and present a narrative at the same time. No doubt some sections are more successful than others. For example, one necessary evil at work here is that Kyle’s in a position where his kid characters have to be, on occasion, exceedingly understanding. Is that out of the range of possibility? Of course not! There are loads of kids out there that are wise beyond their years, almost out of necessity. But the sheer levels of loquaciousness that go on sometimes take you out of the narrative for half a second, since the kids have to serve as preternaturally informed. Then again, kids are smart, and they’ll take it upon themselves to learn everything if they truly feel it’s not simply in their own best interests but in the best interests of the world itself. At a midpoint in this book, Bailey explains to Annabelle that vegetables don’t exist. You see “vegetable” isn’t a job. Leaves are a job. Roots are a job. Flowers are a job. “Vegetable is something people made up to sell salad mix.” In my world, vegetables are also invoked when people talk about books that contain a lot of factual information. To give children that information straight is akin to “eating your vegetables” (which is apparently an unpalatable notion). Kyle will probably face that criticism, but what Kyle’s doing here is world building. Only it’s a part of your world that kids might not have known about before, so it requires a lot of exposition as a result. I’m not sure he always gets the balance of explanation to plot right all the time, but there are a lot more hits than misses as you go through it.
Before it won a Newbery Honor, I spent a lot of time talking up Kyle’s novel Too Bright to See, arguing that it should have a shot at the gold. When asked why, I had to fall back on the somewhat insufficient explanation that, “It has good writing,” which is always a difficult thing to define. What does a reviewer mean by “good writing”? Elegant turns of phrase? Wit? Humor? For me, the best writing in any book for kids is when the author produces universally understood notions and ideas that you might never have thought up yourself, but that hit home hard when you see them on the page. For example, at one point it’s the first day of school and all the kids in Annabelle’s class are sitting in a circle sharing what they did over the summer. She says, “The problem is that instead of listening to the kids who go before me, I always spend the whole time rehearsing and planning what I’m going to say.” Yup. Or regarding adults that can’t speak to kids naturally: “When he talked to us he had this fake laugh behind his voice, like he was the one human actor surrounded by puppets or cartoon characters.” Working on a project about solar panels is “somehow both extremely boring and very stressful.” And finally, “Being LGBTQ was like an epic fantasy story. They had read all the books in the series, and I was struggling through the table of contents.”
And then, of course, the book IS funny because Kyle knows how to write funny. It’s hard not to love lines like, “I had half a mind to hop a train to Arizona and kick some old trans guy butt.” I think it’s safe to say I never thought I’d see the phrase, “old trans guy butt” in a book for kids, and I am so glad it’s there. Or “I hadn’t been entirely sure what risotto was, but my shrewd powers of deduction told me that it was a gloppy rice situation.” Or, possibly my favorite, the moment when Annabelle starts watching what she tells Bailey because she, “had a suspicion it might turn into another conversation about -gender-, which would make me feel like a toddler pointing at every truck driving by and yelling ‘Truck!’ while Bailey was the patient babysitter being like ‘Yes, that is also a truck.’ “
Okay. So, you have a trans author writing about different kinds of issues on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, which means that by necessity some nuance is allowed, but characters are limited in how complicated they can become. Another thing I really appreciated about the book was how no one in it was perfect. Our heroine Annabelle starts off with an entire set of prejudices against the “other Annabelle” (who shares her name in her class). Bailey is laser-focused on their own good fight but also suffers from distinct tunnel vision (particularly as it applies to friends). Of course, it’s the bad guys that make a book interesting. Kyle’s willing to give some of them some ground, but he’s not excusing them for bad behavior. The principal is weak. The class bully a privileged little fart, who lives to regret involving his mom in his fight against change. You can sort of see where these characters are coming from, even if you don’t like them. But the bully’s mom? Now there’s a piece of work. She’s every teacher’s nightmare and if she’s two-dimensional, it’s not like clones of her don’t exist in our world. She’s certainly the most black and white of the book’s characters, but she’s also one of the most familiar. I can live with that.
Something I would have liked when I finished the book was a Glossary at the back of different terms. I know it’s not Kyle job to teach me what I don’t know, and that he spells a lot of things out in the book. That said, some of the new ideas being introduced to kids on these pages don’t have a handy place for definitions. You know what those kids are gonna do, right? They’re going to go straight to Google and tap in their questions and if they’re lucky they’re going to get accurate answers, and if they’re unlucky they’re going to get seriously confused. A list of websites and resources for further information also would not have been out of place. Ditto links from trusted sources that kids can go to if they find themselves identifying with any of the characters in this book. I’m sure the book’s website or Kyle's website will cover all of that (and lord knows that websites date) but it still could do a bit of good in the book proper.
By the way, I was going to write this review a little sooner but my 10-year-old’s best friend saw my copy sitting on my chair and begged to read it immediately. You’d need a harder heart than I to say no to something like that, so I acquiesced. Reader, she read it in a day. A DAY! Not read it, no. Devoured it. This is a voracious reader, and she loved and adored what was going on in these pages. As such, I don’t want to hear any of you out there telling me that kids won’t like this book. Something about the combination of the content and the cover and writing greatly appeals. If you want a middle grade that doesn’t simply upset expectations but grows all new expectations out of the ether, this is the title for you. I want it to spread to every library in the country. I want it to go underground in places book banners thrive and to be passed from kid to kid so that one way or another they all see it, read it, and talk about it. A brave title for a time when we need brave books for kids more than ever.
Wait . . . no. No. Scratch that. Let me try again.
Books for children are exceedingly difficult to write WELL. I mean, any putz (and I do mean any) can string enough words together to fill 32-pages, call it a picture book, and call it a day. And yes, children’s novels take a little more time, but there are plenty of bad ones out there. When those novels attempt to go in directions that introduce kids to topics that haven’t ever been tackled in literature for kids before, that’s important. However, just because an author writes about important stuff, that doesn’t automatically make their book good. I mean, I wish it did. But there are plenty of “important” poorly written books for kids out there. Honestly, I sort of feel it’s par for the course at this point. You break down the barriers with the mediocre "important" books, and that allows the great writers to come along and make their mark later. I say all this because once in a while you get lucky. You might actually find an author breaking down barriers who is also a great writer. Kyle Lukoff falls into that category. I mean, it was pretty evident when he was publishing picture books like the Max series and When Aidan Became a Brother. It was remarkably satisfying to see him win a Newbery Honor for Too Bright to See as well. Turns out, all of that was merely an Overture for the real show. With Different Kinds of Fruit Kyle (a trans author himself) is stretching his muscles. Because he’s not just tackling subjects that have never been tackled in children’s novels before. He’s tackling subjects that I’d wager a lot of adults may have never even known about. And the kids? They’re ready for it.
Annabelle didn’t ask for such a boring life, but what are ya gonna do? She lives with her mom and dad in the suburbs, attends a small school with the same kids she’s known since Kindergarten, and that’s the long and short of it. Then she meets Bailey. Bailey is different from every other kid Annabelle has ever known. First off, they use they/them pronouns because they’re non-binary. They know about LGBTQIA+ issues that Annabelle had never even heard of before. But when Annabelle’s parents start acting really really weird about Bailey’s appearance in school, she starts to fret that they might be homophobic. Turns out, her parents have a couple secrets of their own that they’ve been hiding all these years. Maybe it’s time to start standing up, not just for other people, but for yourself as well.
I want to say right from the start that I’m including spoilers in this review, so you should probably know that before you read much further. This is kind of a bummer for me, because going into this book blind, with just that cute gee-we’re-just-your-typical-middle-grade-novel cover to look at, turned out to be the ideal way to read this book. There is this jaw-dropping gut punch of a reveal in Chapter Eight that completely upset the applecart when it came to my expectations. Until that moment I thought this book was going to tread in pretty safe territory. Girl meets non-binary friend. Parents are bigots that must learn. Girl comes out to parents as gay and by the end everything is peaches and cream. But when a dad character says to you, “I’m your father. I’m transgender. And your mother didn’t give birth to you, I did”, that’s the moment you realize that you’re not in Kansas anymore. A nice way to build tension in your middle grade fiction is certainly to have this perception that your life and family have no secrets and then that peace of mind is shattered with a felling blow because “a stranger comes to town” (h/t to you, Joseph Campbell). I expected that. What I didn’t expect was a deep dive into inter-trans politics involving pregnancy, how semantics have changed within the community over the last 30 years, and more. I didn’t even have the language to begin to imagine a book for kids grappling with all of this. It’s a lot and Kyle packs it in like he’s only got one shot at this and he’s going to give it his all.
Kyle’s performing such a juggling act with his characters that this book should be a case study in how to inform and present a narrative at the same time. No doubt some sections are more successful than others. For example, one necessary evil at work here is that Kyle’s in a position where his kid characters have to be, on occasion, exceedingly understanding. Is that out of the range of possibility? Of course not! There are loads of kids out there that are wise beyond their years, almost out of necessity. But the sheer levels of loquaciousness that go on sometimes take you out of the narrative for half a second, since the kids have to serve as preternaturally informed. Then again, kids are smart, and they’ll take it upon themselves to learn everything if they truly feel it’s not simply in their own best interests but in the best interests of the world itself. At a midpoint in this book, Bailey explains to Annabelle that vegetables don’t exist. You see “vegetable” isn’t a job. Leaves are a job. Roots are a job. Flowers are a job. “Vegetable is something people made up to sell salad mix.” In my world, vegetables are also invoked when people talk about books that contain a lot of factual information. To give children that information straight is akin to “eating your vegetables” (which is apparently an unpalatable notion). Kyle will probably face that criticism, but what Kyle’s doing here is world building. Only it’s a part of your world that kids might not have known about before, so it requires a lot of exposition as a result. I’m not sure he always gets the balance of explanation to plot right all the time, but there are a lot more hits than misses as you go through it.
Before it won a Newbery Honor, I spent a lot of time talking up Kyle’s novel Too Bright to See, arguing that it should have a shot at the gold. When asked why, I had to fall back on the somewhat insufficient explanation that, “It has good writing,” which is always a difficult thing to define. What does a reviewer mean by “good writing”? Elegant turns of phrase? Wit? Humor? For me, the best writing in any book for kids is when the author produces universally understood notions and ideas that you might never have thought up yourself, but that hit home hard when you see them on the page. For example, at one point it’s the first day of school and all the kids in Annabelle’s class are sitting in a circle sharing what they did over the summer. She says, “The problem is that instead of listening to the kids who go before me, I always spend the whole time rehearsing and planning what I’m going to say.” Yup. Or regarding adults that can’t speak to kids naturally: “When he talked to us he had this fake laugh behind his voice, like he was the one human actor surrounded by puppets or cartoon characters.” Working on a project about solar panels is “somehow both extremely boring and very stressful.” And finally, “Being LGBTQ was like an epic fantasy story. They had read all the books in the series, and I was struggling through the table of contents.”
And then, of course, the book IS funny because Kyle knows how to write funny. It’s hard not to love lines like, “I had half a mind to hop a train to Arizona and kick some old trans guy butt.” I think it’s safe to say I never thought I’d see the phrase, “old trans guy butt” in a book for kids, and I am so glad it’s there. Or “I hadn’t been entirely sure what risotto was, but my shrewd powers of deduction told me that it was a gloppy rice situation.” Or, possibly my favorite, the moment when Annabelle starts watching what she tells Bailey because she, “had a suspicion it might turn into another conversation about -gender-, which would make me feel like a toddler pointing at every truck driving by and yelling ‘Truck!’ while Bailey was the patient babysitter being like ‘Yes, that is also a truck.’ “
Okay. So, you have a trans author writing about different kinds of issues on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, which means that by necessity some nuance is allowed, but characters are limited in how complicated they can become. Another thing I really appreciated about the book was how no one in it was perfect. Our heroine Annabelle starts off with an entire set of prejudices against the “other Annabelle” (who shares her name in her class). Bailey is laser-focused on their own good fight but also suffers from distinct tunnel vision (particularly as it applies to friends). Of course, it’s the bad guys that make a book interesting. Kyle’s willing to give some of them some ground, but he’s not excusing them for bad behavior. The principal is weak. The class bully a privileged little fart, who lives to regret involving his mom in his fight against change. You can sort of see where these characters are coming from, even if you don’t like them. But the bully’s mom? Now there’s a piece of work. She’s every teacher’s nightmare and if she’s two-dimensional, it’s not like clones of her don’t exist in our world. She’s certainly the most black and white of the book’s characters, but she’s also one of the most familiar. I can live with that.
Something I would have liked when I finished the book was a Glossary at the back of different terms. I know it’s not Kyle job to teach me what I don’t know, and that he spells a lot of things out in the book. That said, some of the new ideas being introduced to kids on these pages don’t have a handy place for definitions. You know what those kids are gonna do, right? They’re going to go straight to Google and tap in their questions and if they’re lucky they’re going to get accurate answers, and if they’re unlucky they’re going to get seriously confused. A list of websites and resources for further information also would not have been out of place. Ditto links from trusted sources that kids can go to if they find themselves identifying with any of the characters in this book. I’m sure the book’s website or Kyle's website will cover all of that (and lord knows that websites date) but it still could do a bit of good in the book proper.
By the way, I was going to write this review a little sooner but my 10-year-old’s best friend saw my copy sitting on my chair and begged to read it immediately. You’d need a harder heart than I to say no to something like that, so I acquiesced. Reader, she read it in a day. A DAY! Not read it, no. Devoured it. This is a voracious reader, and she loved and adored what was going on in these pages. As such, I don’t want to hear any of you out there telling me that kids won’t like this book. Something about the combination of the content and the cover and writing greatly appeals. If you want a middle grade that doesn’t simply upset expectations but grows all new expectations out of the ether, this is the title for you. I want it to spread to every library in the country. I want it to go underground in places book banners thrive and to be passed from kid to kid so that one way or another they all see it, read it, and talk about it. A brave title for a time when we need brave books for kids more than ever.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 21, 2022
just the best, the absolute best.
gets me pumped for pride soon!
gets me pumped for pride soon!
January 23, 2023
This was a great story, but it was really hard to read at times. Addresses both transphobia, homophobia and white supremacy/racism in education settings. A lot of good discussions, but sadly not much action on the school's behalf to change and become better. Which is very realistic, and also depressing :(
Rep: white queer-questioning cis female MC, white queer nonbinary side characters, white trans male side character, fat white queer femme cis female side character with PCOS, Korean cis female side character, Black cis female side character, various queer side characters.
CWs: Transphobia/transmisia, general queerphobia/queermisia, racism, outing, dysphoria. Moderate: discussions about past pregnancy, bullying, medical content, medical trauma, grief, lesbophobia/lesbomisia, gaslighting. Minor: Infertility, chronic illness (PCOS), ableism, panic attacks, sexism, blood, injury/injury detail.
Rep: white queer-questioning cis female MC, white queer nonbinary side characters, white trans male side character, fat white queer femme cis female side character with PCOS, Korean cis female side character, Black cis female side character, various queer side characters.
CWs: Transphobia/transmisia, general queerphobia/queermisia, racism, outing, dysphoria. Moderate: discussions about past pregnancy, bullying, medical content, medical trauma, grief, lesbophobia/lesbomisia, gaslighting. Minor: Infertility, chronic illness (PCOS), ableism, panic attacks, sexism, blood, injury/injury detail.
June 16, 2023
This book has no audience.
By that I mean that it's far too juvenile for adults but far too information heavy for kids. I can see what it's trying to do and be, but it fails at it pretty badly. I'm all for books that teach kids about different identities and how to be supportive, empathetic, and open, but this reads almost like an "information vending machine" (to quote a character in the book).
A lot of the book, and it's barely-there plot, serve to teach kids about different identities and parts of the lgbtq community, but in a very heavy handed way. So much of the book is just dedicated to either Bailey or the adults explaining things. It's not interesting and I don't see how it could ever hold the attention of a middle grader.
The characters mostly felt like devices rather than people because of this, and almost none of their dialogue or interactions came off as being true to life. Bailey was far too educated and well spoken for an eleven year old, able to provide succinct counter-arguments to bigotry in ways I cannot see any of my nieces or nephews doing. Alternatively, Annabelle is super naive and needs things to be explained to her constantly (obviously, we needed a character to press the buttons on the vending machine). And the rest of kids in class, sans one, were basically perfect baby liberals who were super excited to talk about diversity and minorities and presented as if they'd all grown up in some utopic society where everyone is very accepting and kids didn't absorb their parents' or society's bigotry in any way. (Also... why was Seattle being described so much like a Gay Utopia? I promise homophobes are everywhere lol.)
The author also seemed to want to address problems within the lgbtq community itself (namely, that some trans people think being nb isn't real or valid), but couldn't explore that in a way that felt real due to the book being aimed at children. The father, who is trans, does not really have a good reason for his ideology and is ultimately weak in his convictions despite supposedly holding them for years. I think there is a lot of issues within the lgbtq community that should be addressed, but with the nuance that they deserve.
I think the only things I could say I liked about this book was the intention and the way they dealt with Annabelle's crush—I liked that she was able to be honest with her friend about it and that the story didn't paint a kid's feelings as either less important or deeply serious.
2/5 for the effort.
By that I mean that it's far too juvenile for adults but far too information heavy for kids. I can see what it's trying to do and be, but it fails at it pretty badly. I'm all for books that teach kids about different identities and how to be supportive, empathetic, and open, but this reads almost like an "information vending machine" (to quote a character in the book).
A lot of the book, and it's barely-there plot, serve to teach kids about different identities and parts of the lgbtq community, but in a very heavy handed way. So much of the book is just dedicated to either Bailey or the adults explaining things. It's not interesting and I don't see how it could ever hold the attention of a middle grader.
The characters mostly felt like devices rather than people because of this, and almost none of their dialogue or interactions came off as being true to life. Bailey was far too educated and well spoken for an eleven year old, able to provide succinct counter-arguments to bigotry in ways I cannot see any of my nieces or nephews doing. Alternatively, Annabelle is super naive and needs things to be explained to her constantly (obviously, we needed a character to press the buttons on the vending machine). And the rest of kids in class, sans one, were basically perfect baby liberals who were super excited to talk about diversity and minorities and presented as if they'd all grown up in some utopic society where everyone is very accepting and kids didn't absorb their parents' or society's bigotry in any way. (Also... why was Seattle being described so much like a Gay Utopia? I promise homophobes are everywhere lol.)
The author also seemed to want to address problems within the lgbtq community itself (namely, that some trans people think being nb isn't real or valid), but couldn't explore that in a way that felt real due to the book being aimed at children. The father, who is trans, does not really have a good reason for his ideology and is ultimately weak in his convictions despite supposedly holding them for years. I think there is a lot of issues within the lgbtq community that should be addressed, but with the nuance that they deserve.
I think the only things I could say I liked about this book was the intention and the way they dealt with Annabelle's crush—I liked that she was able to be honest with her friend about it and that the story didn't paint a kid's feelings as either less important or deeply serious.
2/5 for the effort.
June 20, 2022
read this book if you wanna read about a trans character who is transphobic towards non-binary people 👍
March 31, 2023
Somewhere in this book, a character tells another that they are using someone like an “information vending machine” and the irony struck me continuously throughout reading DKOF. Each time I felt like I was settling into the story, suddenly the dialogue would become a long information delivery session on terminology related to, it seemed, almost every hue on the rainbow spectrum. In some ways it seemed like Lukoff wanted to write two books: one was the story of a young kid learning a family secret and helping her family evolve, and the other was an encyclopedia of LGBTQIA+ terminology and concepts.
As a sixth grade teacher of 27 years I am so glad more and more books about queer kids and families are being published and made available. But if the story feels completely subsumed by the author’s desire to deliver information, kids will sniff that out immediately.
On another note, while I do agree that kids should be learning about the world they live in and discovering and exploring their identities, my students absolutely LOVE learning about the ancient Greeks, the exploration of whom was oddly and unnecessarily denigrated throughout this book. It’s not either or! It’s both and!
As a sixth grade teacher of 27 years I am so glad more and more books about queer kids and families are being published and made available. But if the story feels completely subsumed by the author’s desire to deliver information, kids will sniff that out immediately.
On another note, while I do agree that kids should be learning about the world they live in and discovering and exploring their identities, my students absolutely LOVE learning about the ancient Greeks, the exploration of whom was oddly and unnecessarily denigrated throughout this book. It’s not either or! It’s both and!
October 27, 2022
There was no nuance and very little empathy in this book addressing subjects that require a lot of both. At times I could see what the author was trying to communicate and I appreciate those intentions, but middle grade readers deserve better than this book that treated its "antagonist" characters with near-cruelty and had portrayals that amounted to little more than caricatures.
March 4, 2023
I wanted to love this because the representation is so important, and I couldn’t put my finger on why I didn’t. I read a few other reviews and realized that I just found the kids to be unbelievable and the story felt contrived and even a little confusing at times. I kept thinking that I couldn’t imagine a kid enjoying it. But then, I’m not a kid so who knows?
June 19, 2022
At the beginning of sixth grade, non-binary student Bailey arrives in Annabelle's class, and Annabelle's parents are not happy about their arrival. However, not for the reasons Annabelle and Bailey assume. Rather than being narrow-minded, Annabelle's dad is actually trans, and Bailey's unapologetic arrival leads to lots of exploration and honesty from the adults in the main characters' lives.
A very difficult book to rate. To me this reads much more like a book targeted at adults, told from the perspective of middle grade characters. In that sense it has an innocence that is appealing and comforting, but it also feels a little jarring, since Bailey often has to become the encyclopaedia on what it means to be non-binary and so on. They seem incredibly ok with everything, and incredibly coherent, like a speech writer or a long-time activist, and they're meant to be eleven or twelve. I wonder if this is the first wave of non-binary children in books, who are required to be perfect and unflappable in all circumstances, always with the ideal response, until their existence allows space for the messy, imperfect, well-rounded non-binary characters.
Parts of this book are extremely difficult to read. I think this is the first book I've read involving multiple members of the LGBTQIAP+ community who *aren't* fully supportive of one another, and whose conflicting views based on generational trauma are ugly and often cruel. Reading Annabelle's father was often difficult, particularly his views concerning Bailey. On the one hand I think it's important to have a character like Mike, but I was quite surprised to find him in a MG book. While it was nice to see his development, I felt it was rushed and somewhat hard to believe, especially considering the timeframe of the novel and his attitudes over the last twenty plus years.
I do wonder what I would have made of this book had it been Mike's story, or the parents' story, written as an Adult book. As it is, I think it's an important book that I recommend to adult allies specifically looking for nuance and accessible education, but I'm not sure whether it's the best book to recommend to non-binary children, for example.
A very difficult book to rate. To me this reads much more like a book targeted at adults, told from the perspective of middle grade characters. In that sense it has an innocence that is appealing and comforting, but it also feels a little jarring, since Bailey often has to become the encyclopaedia on what it means to be non-binary and so on. They seem incredibly ok with everything, and incredibly coherent, like a speech writer or a long-time activist, and they're meant to be eleven or twelve. I wonder if this is the first wave of non-binary children in books, who are required to be perfect and unflappable in all circumstances, always with the ideal response, until their existence allows space for the messy, imperfect, well-rounded non-binary characters.
Parts of this book are extremely difficult to read. I think this is the first book I've read involving multiple members of the LGBTQIAP+ community who *aren't* fully supportive of one another, and whose conflicting views based on generational trauma are ugly and often cruel. Reading Annabelle's father was often difficult, particularly his views concerning Bailey. On the one hand I think it's important to have a character like Mike, but I was quite surprised to find him in a MG book. While it was nice to see his development, I felt it was rushed and somewhat hard to believe, especially considering the timeframe of the novel and his attitudes over the last twenty plus years.
I do wonder what I would have made of this book had it been Mike's story, or the parents' story, written as an Adult book. As it is, I think it's an important book that I recommend to adult allies specifically looking for nuance and accessible education, but I'm not sure whether it's the best book to recommend to non-binary children, for example.
April 30, 2022
This was an incredibly beautiful and powerful #ownvoices middle grade novel about queer families, trans parents, learning about pronouns and that there are many ways of being. I absolutely loved every second of this books and I wish I could put it in the hands of every middle grader.
The author does such a great job describing what being nonbinary, trans and on the queer spectrum is like. Perfect for fans of Alex Gino or Ellen outside the lines by AJ Sass. Great on audio too narrated by Cassandra Morris, with an author's note included at the end read by the author. This book blew me away and I can't recommend it enough!! It will for sure be at the top of my favorite books of 2022 list this year.
The author does such a great job describing what being nonbinary, trans and on the queer spectrum is like. Perfect for fans of Alex Gino or Ellen outside the lines by AJ Sass. Great on audio too narrated by Cassandra Morris, with an author's note included at the end read by the author. This book blew me away and I can't recommend it enough!! It will for sure be at the top of my favorite books of 2022 list this year.
June 8, 2022
Such mixed feelings. 5 stars for bringing up ALL the conversations about queer culture possible in one book, 3 stars for being more an issue book than an actual story 🙈 I hope some kiddo who needs this finds it and loves it and that some other kids read it and learn. I admire Lukoff and his work and don’t want to be too negative here, but I’m very conflicted about the actual audience for this and also about the character actually acting like the 6th grader she supposedly is. As far as queer middle grade books though, we need all we can get, so I’m happy this is added to the canon.
April 3, 2024
When MG is good, it’s GREAT. And this is GREAT GREAT GREAT!! Do yourself a favor and don’t read the blurb or anything about it. Just know it’s a lovely heartwarming discovery and growth based queer story! Not knowing about it was such a shock when it really got started and I loved that feeling.
MC was fantastic, side characters strong and influential, antagonists had tons of growth, and of course there’s the happiest of endings!
Definitely one of my favorite MG books!
MC was fantastic, side characters strong and influential, antagonists had tons of growth, and of course there’s the happiest of endings!
Definitely one of my favorite MG books!
April 29, 2024
I’m sobbing right now. This children’s book is the most relatable content I’ve read in forever and I genuinely think if you’re feeling like you need any type of support for your inner queer child this is a great read. ~9hour audiobook
June 11, 2022
Very sweet and eye-opening. I already considered myself week educated on the 2SLGBTQ+ community but this book supported the fact that you can always learn more.
June 18, 2024
Annabelle is so isolated in her current-day suburban home and her ostensibly heterosexual family that when she goes on an annual father-daughter bonding excursion into nearby Seattle a few days before she starts sixth grade, she believes that the poster for "Pre-Pride Drag Brunch" might be advertising a "late breakfast you kind of pulled yourself into before you felt good about yourself." (p.5)
Her efforts to sort out the meaning of this poster show her naivete, and also illustrate perfectly how the author intends to use this character to explore and describe the diverse LGBTQ+ universe. By page 10, I was feeling enormously frustrated; every few pages, just when some parts of Annabelle's character seem to come into focus, she is again betrayed by the author - either to make a point, or perhaps just due to poor editing. It felt like the author was overriding what the character would say & putting in his own thoughts, opinions, & language.
As I was reading, I saved a dozen post-it notes where I felt disconnected from the story because the characters' authentic self-expression seemed secondary to their usefulness as a mouthpiece exploring topics related to gender identity, sexual preferences, parochialism, and how these topics unfold in the personal lives of children and adults.
I was going to post all those specific points here, but it felt mean-spirited and nit-picky, and I don't want to tear down authors who are trying to provide a variety of perspectives and experiences.
I would recommend this book for young readers who already know that adults are predictably condescending, arrogant, unforthcoming with answers, and undermining. For other readers, who trust adults and are curious about "different kinds of fruit" - i.e. gender spectrum families, I am sure Lukoff could write an effective non-fiction booklet - and if it had illustrations by a hip Seattle artist, it'd be useful and probably popular.
This book took way too long to tell a story that (it seemed to me) aimed to show that people of all ages love whoever they love - based on their personal qualities and their shared experiences, not any specific body parts or named identities.
Her efforts to sort out the meaning of this poster show her naivete, and also illustrate perfectly how the author intends to use this character to explore and describe the diverse LGBTQ+ universe. By page 10, I was feeling enormously frustrated; every few pages, just when some parts of Annabelle's character seem to come into focus, she is again betrayed by the author - either to make a point, or perhaps just due to poor editing. It felt like the author was overriding what the character would say & putting in his own thoughts, opinions, & language.
As I was reading, I saved a dozen post-it notes where I felt disconnected from the story because the characters' authentic self-expression seemed secondary to their usefulness as a mouthpiece exploring topics related to gender identity, sexual preferences, parochialism, and how these topics unfold in the personal lives of children and adults.
I was going to post all those specific points here, but it felt mean-spirited and nit-picky, and I don't want to tear down authors who are trying to provide a variety of perspectives and experiences.
I would recommend this book for young readers who already know that adults are predictably condescending, arrogant, unforthcoming with answers, and undermining. For other readers, who trust adults and are curious about "different kinds of fruit" - i.e. gender spectrum families, I am sure Lukoff could write an effective non-fiction booklet - and if it had illustrations by a hip Seattle artist, it'd be useful and probably popular.
This book took way too long to tell a story that (it seemed to me) aimed to show that people of all ages love whoever they love - based on their personal qualities and their shared experiences, not any specific body parts or named identities.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 27, 2022
I wanted to like this book! I love the cover, I love the premise, but the writing is a letdown.
Spoilers ahead!
First, what I liked. I think the author nails what a small school is. I work in a school, a little bigger than Tahoma Falls Collaborative School, but not much bigger. The idea of being with the same kids every year and thinking you know all that there is to know about them is something I see with my students.
I wish I could say there was more that I liked. While at first, I liked Annabeth's and Bailey's friendship I wish we could have seen more of it. Just them hanging out. The whole book felt like an after-school special. Conversations were forced so that there could be teaching moments. It just didn't feel natural. The kids do not sound like real kids, especially Annabell as she's narrating. For example "... as Dad opened up a little more, throwing in comments that were winks to that shared information." Kids do not speak like that! Another line was "I wonder what else I'd hear if I started listening." Some of it was just cringy. Toward the end of the book when Annabelle's parents go to the school and Dixon asks a question, she says she doesn't want to say anything because she would be biased, but any 11/12 year I know is going to defend their parents as long as their not shy, which Annabelle was not made out to be.
There were parts of this book that could have been taken out so that the story flowed better. We never get to see what happens with Patrick's climate change project and there was a lot of the book devoted to that.
Overall, the book was too long, receptive, and lacked a natural flow of writing.
Spoilers ahead!
First, what I liked. I think the author nails what a small school is. I work in a school, a little bigger than Tahoma Falls Collaborative School, but not much bigger. The idea of being with the same kids every year and thinking you know all that there is to know about them is something I see with my students.
I wish I could say there was more that I liked. While at first, I liked Annabeth's and Bailey's friendship I wish we could have seen more of it. Just them hanging out. The whole book felt like an after-school special. Conversations were forced so that there could be teaching moments. It just didn't feel natural. The kids do not sound like real kids, especially Annabell as she's narrating. For example "... as Dad opened up a little more, throwing in comments that were winks to that shared information." Kids do not speak like that! Another line was "I wonder what else I'd hear if I started listening." Some of it was just cringy. Toward the end of the book when Annabelle's parents go to the school and Dixon asks a question, she says she doesn't want to say anything because she would be biased, but any 11/12 year I know is going to defend their parents as long as their not shy, which Annabelle was not made out to be.
There were parts of this book that could have been taken out so that the story flowed better. We never get to see what happens with Patrick's climate change project and there was a lot of the book devoted to that.
Overall, the book was too long, receptive, and lacked a natural flow of writing.
May 30, 2022
This is one of those books that feels more relevant now than when it was being written, with the whole subplot of "character's conservative parent tries to shut down class discussions on topics that talk about groups beyond cishet able-bodied white men". I'm in awe of Lukoff's ability to break down complicated topics in a way that never felt like it was too insider-baseball for the middle-grade audience, whether that topic is internalized transphobia and how that can affect other trans people, trans men or transmasc pregnancy and all of the stigma in and out of the community that comes along with it, T4T and why some trans people only want to date other trans people, if anyone ever owes you their coming-out story even if they're your parents, or even the complexities of coming out as nonbinary while at a school that's specifically for one gender. Bailey initially came off as a sort of Manic Pixie Dream Enby (a critique I made of Spin With Me) but I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were far more complex than just a cool nonbinary kid who explained nonbinary issues. All in all, a great example of how a middle grade book can cover complex topics without being preachy or pedantic and very fun all around.
June 20, 2022
I unfortunately did not really care for this book. I didn’t get much of a personality out of any of the other characters other than being gay. The book read a lot more like an informational comic about the definitions of the LGBTQ+ identities and the correct way to approach them, and then proceeding to be passive aggressive to the 12 year old child main character who literally doesn’t know anything because she’s 12. Incredibly unsatisfying.
December 7, 2022
wow it's great that the year 2022 has given us two middle grade small-town LGBTQ 2022 book releases! I slightly preferred this one over Small Town Pride but there's no reason to fight. They're both good books Bront.
I really appreciated the way this one depicts so many different trans POVs and allows for characters from every generation to grow and learn. I saw some reviews decrying this for including transphobia which like...yeah but that's part of the book? And then it gets better? Characters have their viewpoints challenged and process new information? HEARD OF IT?
I really appreciated the way this one depicts so many different trans POVs and allows for characters from every generation to grow and learn. I saw some reviews decrying this for including transphobia which like...yeah but that's part of the book? And then it gets better? Characters have their viewpoints challenged and process new information? HEARD OF IT?
February 20, 2024
A Maine Student Book Award nominee for 23|24
When Annabelle meets a new classmate in her small rural Washington town; she’s ecstatic. She is excited to meet someone new; and Bailey will help Annabelle open her eyes to the wider world. Meeting Bailey begins a chain of conversations with Annabelle and her parents and secrets are revealed that will change how Annabelle feels about her community, her parents and herself.
This was a great book full of fantastic representation.
When Annabelle meets a new classmate in her small rural Washington town; she’s ecstatic. She is excited to meet someone new; and Bailey will help Annabelle open her eyes to the wider world. Meeting Bailey begins a chain of conversations with Annabelle and her parents and secrets are revealed that will change how Annabelle feels about her community, her parents and herself.
This was a great book full of fantastic representation.
January 8, 2024
Super exploration of trans identity in adults and kids for middle grade readers; explores many nuanced issues around pregnancy, pronouns, and coming out. Only took it down a star because I found the protagonists voice written in a “this is how adults think kids talk” way. School setting is very similar to DS. Look forward to recommending this one at GSA.
April 6, 2024
loved this, cried, don’t read the synopsis
November 6, 2022
Review originally published 6 November 2022 at Falling Letters.
Different Kinds of Fruit explores generational differences among queer folks – in particular, two distinct experiences of being trans. The book’s a little more didactic than I something I would usually enjoy. But I think it’s an incredibly valuable story, especially as a mirror book, for kids who might find themselves in Annabelle or Bailey.
Two key characters – Annabelle’s new friend Bailey, who is nonbinary, and Annabelle’s father, who is trans – may be considered truly fictional characters, IE not realistic. I agree with that sentiment, but I also don’t take much issue with it. While Bailey plays a key role in the story as a sort of model, middle class, white queer kid, educating Annabelle, they do have a fully realized personality and experiences of their own. (I do take issue with anyone saying Bailey is too perfect – no spoilers, but Bailey makes mistakes, too.) I’m okay with this instance of a character in a middle grade fiction novel serving as an aspirational role model, for the most part.
As for Anabelle’s dad, he experiences some rapid character growth that does seem unlikely given his personal history. But again – this is middle grade fiction and his growth gives the story a hopeful arc and I might even argue that kids read and appreciate this book are also smart enough to recognize that for themselves.
Let’s talk about Annabelle’s dad some more. I’ve always said I love adult characters in middle grade… Annabelle’s dad has to be the most complex parent figure I’ve read about! He has a lot of queer trauma from his past, as Annabelle comes to learn over the course of the novel. His experience and Bailey’s experiences are in many ways radically different.
It’s Annabelle’s dad who makes this story a pretty intense read. I had not at all guessed he would be antagonistic. The story has way more tension than I anticipated, dealing with some big, nuanced concepts that haven’t been spotlighted in middle grade yet. There were moments reading this book where I felt my stomach do back flips. Annabelle and her dad’s relationship goes through a lot of painful growth.
Annabelle and Bailey go to an alternative school, where one entitled kid, Dixon, is super concerned with the idea of ‘fairness’. Fairness, in the way that makes him ask, “So, if I wanted to invite a group of straight people to talk about being heterosexual […] that would be okay too, right?”? I wondered how many Dixon-type kids you’d find if the story was set at a public school… but even Dixon goes through his own wee bit of development. It was actually a little heartbreaking as we see more of Dixon’s parents and realize where he gets his ideas from, and a little encouraging how we see Dixon’s POV change over the story. He wants fairness for everyone, and eventually learns that equality is different from equity.
The last little thing I want to note is I thought Annabelle’s crushes were kind of adorable and super realistic for this age.
💭 The Bottom Line: A tough read at times, Different Kinds of Fruit explores themes common in middle grade, but through characters and experiences that are far less common. Despite some didactism, it makes a valuable contribution to the canon of queer MG lit.
Different Kinds of Fruit explores generational differences among queer folks – in particular, two distinct experiences of being trans. The book’s a little more didactic than I something I would usually enjoy. But I think it’s an incredibly valuable story, especially as a mirror book, for kids who might find themselves in Annabelle or Bailey.
Two key characters – Annabelle’s new friend Bailey, who is nonbinary, and Annabelle’s father, who is trans – may be considered truly fictional characters, IE not realistic. I agree with that sentiment, but I also don’t take much issue with it. While Bailey plays a key role in the story as a sort of model, middle class, white queer kid, educating Annabelle, they do have a fully realized personality and experiences of their own. (I do take issue with anyone saying Bailey is too perfect – no spoilers, but Bailey makes mistakes, too.) I’m okay with this instance of a character in a middle grade fiction novel serving as an aspirational role model, for the most part.
As for Anabelle’s dad, he experiences some rapid character growth that does seem unlikely given his personal history. But again – this is middle grade fiction and his growth gives the story a hopeful arc and I might even argue that kids read and appreciate this book are also smart enough to recognize that for themselves.
Let’s talk about Annabelle’s dad some more. I’ve always said I love adult characters in middle grade… Annabelle’s dad has to be the most complex parent figure I’ve read about! He has a lot of queer trauma from his past, as Annabelle comes to learn over the course of the novel. His experience and Bailey’s experiences are in many ways radically different.
It’s Annabelle’s dad who makes this story a pretty intense read. I had not at all guessed he would be antagonistic. The story has way more tension than I anticipated, dealing with some big, nuanced concepts that haven’t been spotlighted in middle grade yet. There were moments reading this book where I felt my stomach do back flips. Annabelle and her dad’s relationship goes through a lot of painful growth.
Annabelle and Bailey go to an alternative school, where one entitled kid, Dixon, is super concerned with the idea of ‘fairness’. Fairness, in the way that makes him ask, “So, if I wanted to invite a group of straight people to talk about being heterosexual […] that would be okay too, right?”? I wondered how many Dixon-type kids you’d find if the story was set at a public school… but even Dixon goes through his own wee bit of development. It was actually a little heartbreaking as we see more of Dixon’s parents and realize where he gets his ideas from, and a little encouraging how we see Dixon’s POV change over the story. He wants fairness for everyone, and eventually learns that equality is different from equity.
The last little thing I want to note is I thought Annabelle’s crushes were kind of adorable and super realistic for this age.
💭 The Bottom Line: A tough read at times, Different Kinds of Fruit explores themes common in middle grade, but through characters and experiences that are far less common. Despite some didactism, it makes a valuable contribution to the canon of queer MG lit.
July 6, 2022
Sixth-grader Annabelle has a lot of her assumptions and knowledge about her family and herself challenged and widened after a new kid, Bailey, joins her class. Bailey confidently states their pronouns at class introductions, and this causes Annabelle to start thinking of how she defines herself to herself and to others. And to feel her first crush for Bailey.
When talking to her parents about the Bailey, Annabelle notices her parents’ increasing discomfort about the topic of gender. After an uncomfortable visit with Bailey at Annabelle's place, Annabelle's parents begin sharing facts and beliefs of theirs from before she was born. These secrets about her parents’ lives before they arrived in Portland shake Annabelle, but begin a great discussion and airing of tensions and truths, prompting Annabelle to really begin thinking about her own gender and sexual preferences. And to realize that not everyone around her shares her willingness to be open to different and new ideas.
This was really good. The fears and confusion Annabelle experiences when her parents react negatively to all the new ideas Annabelle has because of Bailey’s challenges to her worldview were well handled. Author Kyle Lukoff thoughtfully and with warmth presents the idea that gender is much wider than simply binary. This, along with the getting his audience to think about the effects of assumptions about each other, gives kids a great starting place for thinking about inclusion and diversity.
And, Annabelle, though naïve about many things, is likeable and forthright, and I loved her relationship with her parents. For this and the previous points, this book is a 5-star book for me. However, I am reducing my rating by one star because I think Annabelle's father's turnaround on his fears and biases was a little too quick to be fully believable. So, except for this point, I really liked this book.
Thank you to Netgalley and to Penguin Young Readers Group for this ARC in exchange for my review.
When talking to her parents about the Bailey, Annabelle notices her parents’ increasing discomfort about the topic of gender. After an uncomfortable visit with Bailey at Annabelle's place, Annabelle's parents begin sharing facts and beliefs of theirs from before she was born. These secrets about her parents’ lives before they arrived in Portland shake Annabelle, but begin a great discussion and airing of tensions and truths, prompting Annabelle to really begin thinking about her own gender and sexual preferences. And to realize that not everyone around her shares her willingness to be open to different and new ideas.
This was really good. The fears and confusion Annabelle experiences when her parents react negatively to all the new ideas Annabelle has because of Bailey’s challenges to her worldview were well handled. Author Kyle Lukoff thoughtfully and with warmth presents the idea that gender is much wider than simply binary. This, along with the getting his audience to think about the effects of assumptions about each other, gives kids a great starting place for thinking about inclusion and diversity.
And, Annabelle, though naïve about many things, is likeable and forthright, and I loved her relationship with her parents. For this and the previous points, this book is a 5-star book for me. However, I am reducing my rating by one star because I think Annabelle's father's turnaround on his fears and biases was a little too quick to be fully believable. So, except for this point, I really liked this book.
Thank you to Netgalley and to Penguin Young Readers Group for this ARC in exchange for my review.
November 5, 2022
Different Kinds of Fruit: DNF. Interesting ideas but not executed very well. A bummer since I really liked Too Bright to See.
To start, I didn't find Annabelle's voice very believable--she mostly sounded too young to be a sixth-grader, but then there would be random words and descriptions that sounded too adult-ish. And the dialogue didn't ring true either. But beyond that, there's some hurtful stuff in here. Serious red flags were raised when Annabelle was describing her neurodivergent-coded classmates with phrases like:
"...talking to her always made me feel uncomfortable...you could never tell if she understood what was going on...that was a good, relevant, important idea and she wasn't exactly known for coming up with stuff like that."
"He sometimes sounded like a robot reading from an encyclopedia..."
Then, there is a ton of on-page hate directed at a nonbinary kid--I don't even want to quote it. It really upsets me to think that young queer kids will see the cute cover and pick this book up and expect something sweet and fun and then have to wade through all this. Yeah, it's not condoned by the narrative, but that doesn't mean it's not hurtful to read (and Annabelle's feelings toward her classmates, as far as I saw, aren't challenged).
Not recommended.
To start, I didn't find Annabelle's voice very believable--she mostly sounded too young to be a sixth-grader, but then there would be random words and descriptions that sounded too adult-ish. And the dialogue didn't ring true either. But beyond that, there's some hurtful stuff in here. Serious red flags were raised when Annabelle was describing her neurodivergent-coded classmates with phrases like:
"...talking to her always made me feel uncomfortable...you could never tell if she understood what was going on...that was a good, relevant, important idea and she wasn't exactly known for coming up with stuff like that."
"He sometimes sounded like a robot reading from an encyclopedia..."
Then, there is a ton of on-page hate directed at a nonbinary kid--I don't even want to quote it. It really upsets me to think that young queer kids will see the cute cover and pick this book up and expect something sweet and fun and then have to wade through all this. Yeah, it's not condoned by the narrative, but that doesn't mean it's not hurtful to read (and Annabelle's feelings toward her classmates, as far as I saw, aren't challenged).
Not recommended.
April 18, 2024
So there I was, crying happy tears on the M train...
This is my first time reading a book where I saw MY family represented. I do not have a trans parent, but some conversations that Annabelle has with her (spoiler alert) trans dad were almost identical to conversations I have had with my butch lesbian mom. Throughout my life, I have clashed with queer elders who, despite fighting against hetero-patriarchy their whole lives, have internalized some very harmful and rigid ideas about gender that in turn exclude many people from the queer community (usually, people who don't fit into the neat boxes of lesbian, gay, or transman/transwoman). This past summer, I had a really tough series of conversations with my mom where she revealed that she has some deep-seated bi-phobia--she didn't like the idea that bi women could "claim to be queer and then go home to their husbands. Some of us don't have that choice." The way Annabelle's dad talks about nonbinary people felt like an echo to those conversations. This section in particular:
"'What if someone isn't a boy or a girl, like Bailey? I don't want to guess, what if I get it wrong?'
Dad shook his head impatiently. 'Like I said before. A lot of guys I knew were also genderqueer. Some of them used other pronouns, 'ze' and 'hir' were popular back then. But most of them went on to be men. If Bailey's serious about being trans, they'll go that way too. And if it's too hard, they'll stop, which means they're not really trans anyway.'"
This felt like reading a transcript of a conversation I have had with older queer people; the whole, "if I had to choose between gay and straight, or man and woman, then so does everyone."
Annabelle's dad is not a better person for having experienced isolation and violence for his identity--we can see those wounds in his character from the first page to the last. As a result of the pain and fear that many queer elders carry for decades, they are sometimes exclusionary towards the younger generations of LGBTQ people (particularly trans folks)--which feels oxymoronic, but Kyle Lukoff shows how easy it is (even for queer and trans people) to cling to hetero-patriarchy as a safety net. Annabelle's dad only ever acts out of a desire to protect himself and his family, and after decades of conditioning, he feels like the only way to do that is to work WITH hetero-patriarchy instead of against it. So, he finds himself in a catch22: if he accepts the identity of Bailey, Annabelle's nonbinary friend, then he also has to accept parts of himself that he has denied for years. He has to acknowledge his trauma and heal from it, instead of hiding it away. But once he does so, he becomes a beacon of hope for the next generation of queer and trans kids by showing them that they can have a bright future and a loving family, just like anyone else (cue the tears). Our queer elders are vital parts of the community, even if they still have some unlearning to do.
All this said, I do understand the criticisms of this book--Bailey having answers to every question, the lack of transfemme representation, the whiteness of it all--and at the same time, this book still resonated with me because I, too, am white and I, too, grew up with many butch lesbians and transmac folks. For this reason, I don't recommend this book to everyone, but personally I am so thankful that Kyle Lukoff wrote this story.
This is my first time reading a book where I saw MY family represented. I do not have a trans parent, but some conversations that Annabelle has with her (spoiler alert) trans dad were almost identical to conversations I have had with my butch lesbian mom. Throughout my life, I have clashed with queer elders who, despite fighting against hetero-patriarchy their whole lives, have internalized some very harmful and rigid ideas about gender that in turn exclude many people from the queer community (usually, people who don't fit into the neat boxes of lesbian, gay, or transman/transwoman). This past summer, I had a really tough series of conversations with my mom where she revealed that she has some deep-seated bi-phobia--she didn't like the idea that bi women could "claim to be queer and then go home to their husbands. Some of us don't have that choice." The way Annabelle's dad talks about nonbinary people felt like an echo to those conversations. This section in particular:
"'What if someone isn't a boy or a girl, like Bailey? I don't want to guess, what if I get it wrong?'
Dad shook his head impatiently. 'Like I said before. A lot of guys I knew were also genderqueer. Some of them used other pronouns, 'ze' and 'hir' were popular back then. But most of them went on to be men. If Bailey's serious about being trans, they'll go that way too. And if it's too hard, they'll stop, which means they're not really trans anyway.'"
This felt like reading a transcript of a conversation I have had with older queer people; the whole, "if I had to choose between gay and straight, or man and woman, then so does everyone."
Annabelle's dad is not a better person for having experienced isolation and violence for his identity--we can see those wounds in his character from the first page to the last. As a result of the pain and fear that many queer elders carry for decades, they are sometimes exclusionary towards the younger generations of LGBTQ people (particularly trans folks)--which feels oxymoronic, but Kyle Lukoff shows how easy it is (even for queer and trans people) to cling to hetero-patriarchy as a safety net. Annabelle's dad only ever acts out of a desire to protect himself and his family, and after decades of conditioning, he feels like the only way to do that is to work WITH hetero-patriarchy instead of against it. So, he finds himself in a catch22: if he accepts the identity of Bailey, Annabelle's nonbinary friend, then he also has to accept parts of himself that he has denied for years. He has to acknowledge his trauma and heal from it, instead of hiding it away. But once he does so, he becomes a beacon of hope for the next generation of queer and trans kids by showing them that they can have a bright future and a loving family, just like anyone else (cue the tears). Our queer elders are vital parts of the community, even if they still have some unlearning to do.
All this said, I do understand the criticisms of this book--Bailey having answers to every question, the lack of transfemme representation, the whiteness of it all--and at the same time, this book still resonated with me because I, too, am white and I, too, grew up with many butch lesbians and transmac folks. For this reason, I don't recommend this book to everyone, but personally I am so thankful that Kyle Lukoff wrote this story.
June 4, 2023
more of a 3.5!
July 3, 2024
3 ⭐️ very cute middle grade story with important discussions on identity
July 3, 2022
Wow! A middle grade full of representation and empowerment. A book that all ages should be required to read.
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