Not all Newbery winners have the same feel. The awards committee has often favored historical fiction and social progress narratives, but Christian McKay Heidicker's Scary Stories for Young Foxes, a 2020 Newbery Honor recipient, breaks from the norm. The book begins with seven fox kits anxious for a break from the tedium of their mother's den. After she mentions the "old storyteller" at Bog Cavern, the kits sneak off under cover of night to learn for themselves if the storyteller's tales are as terrifying as their mother warns. It's a spooky night in the Antler Wood, but none of the nervous kits turn back before reaching Bog Cavern, where the skeletal storyteller warns that these scary tales may not be pleasant. Each determined not to be shamed by their siblings for opting out and going home, the kits settle in for a night of intrigue and creepy atmosphere as the storyteller commences to speak.
Roa, Mia, Marley, Bizy, and Alfie are five fox kit siblings who live in the Eavey Wood. Miss Vix is their teacher, imparting lessons they need for their Golden-Eyed Day, which marks a fox's transition to adolescence. Miss Vix is cunning but kind, though today the kits can't seem to find her. Wait, there she is hiding in a hawthorn bush...that is her, isn't it? Roa, who loves Miss Vix more than the others do, pokes his way inside the bush to see why she isn't responding, and is greeted by a nasty surprise: Miss Vix reeks of the "yellow stench" and has a feral glare in her eyes. A mortal disease has infected her, one transmitted by even the smallest bite, and the wise, courteous teacher is now enslaved to wild aggression. Roa and his siblings flee Miss Vix's murderous intent, but how many will live to see another dawn? What could be worse than a den of kits all dead before their Golden-Eyed Day?
These young foxes aren't the only ones in a toxic situation. Elsewhere we meet Uly, born with three normal paws and one shriveled beyond use. His six sisters jeer at him for his disability, whispering when their mother's back is turned that they wish he were dead and surely he soon will be. In self-satisfied tones they speak of a demon-like presence named Mr. Scratch who will one day exact retribution against Uly for the resources he drains from his mother and sisters. Uly wishes he could hunt like a healthy kit, especially in this region where food is scarce and the helpless are first to perish, but his withered forepaw makes everything difficult. He tells himself Mr. Scratch is a myth concocted by his cruel sisters, but deep down he fears the monster will lunge at him from a crack in the earth or behind a loamy tree and kill Uly before he's old enough for the blue in his eyes to disappear. When Mr. Scratch finally shows up, Uly is horrified: he's more sadistic than the young kit imagined. The beast offers Uly's mother a perverse choice: either her son must die, or all his sisters will. Unable to bear the thought that his own mother, the one person who ever showed compassion for Uly, might announce her consent to his death, the lame kit blindly flees to parts unknown. But how can he survive without his mother to hunt food for him?
Traveling alone with her mother, Mia tries not to think about her siblings, whom Miss Vix bit. They're not dead...are they? Her mother avoids talking about it, and Mia has no desire to push the issue. The wildlands they're now entering are full of danger, worst of which is the tall, sticklike creatures who walk on their back legs and are considered smarter than any fox: humans. A human traps Mia in a cage, and she can't bite or claw her way out; the "white sticks" the cage is made of are too durable. The human has a special plan for the animals she captures, a ghastly fate Mia must avoid at any cost, but can a kit outwit a human in her own domain? The necessary sacrifice to be free may be more than Mia can stand to pay. On the road again, deeply troubled by recent incidents, Mia discovers another kit, one with only three functioning paws. The two foxes are wary of each other, but how better to improve their odds than by teaming up against an ugly, vicious world? Uly and Mia embark in search of their mothers, if either is still alive. Every step takes the youngsters closer to a reality they may not wish to know.
"But it's a dangerous thing to start caring for someone else."
—Scary Stories for Young Foxes, P. 150
Growing up can be hazardous, but Uly and Mia have each other...for now. Uly must learn to take care of himself if he's to have a normal life. Mating with a vixen someday and having kits seems farfetched, but could it be possible? Mia encourages him that it might. Mr. Scratch still lurks out there, an enemy who would take pleasure in torturing Uly to death, and defeating him may be the ultimate test Uly needs to pass. How will he raise emotionally healthy kits if he can't move beyond his own childhood trauma? Mia still seeks her mother, desperate to believe she's alive. Mia isn't grown yet; she needs more loving care and wisdom from her mother, but what if that isn't possible? Perils and tragedy come at the two growing foxes from every angle, but their experiences have equipped them to survive. Can Uly and Mia fashion meaningful lives even after everything that has gone against them?
Life isn't rosy and sweet, guaranteed to end well. It's pockmarked by pain, and survival is a craps shoot. The storyteller, back in the Antler Wood, understands this. "All scary stories have two sides...Like the bright and dark of the moon. If you're brave enough to listen and wise enough to stay to the end, the stories can shine a light on the good in the world. They can guide your muzzles. They can help you survive...But...if you don't listen closely...if you turn tail from the horror and don't stay till the end, then the darkness of the story can swallow all hope. It can frighten you so deeply you'll never want to leave your den again. You'll waste away the days with your mother, forever smelling like her milk." It's tempting to eschew stories that remind us of our own shortcomings and past hurt, while gravitating toward cheerful ones as analgesic for our heart wounds. There's a role for story to play in numbing pain, but if we never venture into the darkness we'll never comprehend the complexities of our world, love and contentment mixed with rejection and grief. The youngest kit listening to the storyteller faces this dilemma near the end of the book. Should she listen to the final tale, or not? The narrative is at a somewhat happy juncture, so why risk it coming apart? These considerations do battle in her mind. "The last part of the story might not end well. The darkness might crawl in through her ears and never leave." If you refuse to make your heart vulnerable to potential tragedy, then any chance for a happy ending also vanishes. What is life if not lived to capacity, danger and all? Taking vicarious risks through story is how we train to do the same in real life, so when our moment of truth arrives, we know what needs to be done. May we all have courage to sit and listen to the storyteller's conclusion, whatever it brings.
These themes bleed into Uly and Mia's story as their circle of loved ones expands. Losing your own life is one thing, but what if you have to watch a parent die, or a mate? What about seeing a gentle young kit bleed his last, the light fading from his scared blue eyes? Turmoil and violence is everywhere, and Mia isn't sure she has the heart to start a den. "It's just...families can up and die. Just like that. Or they can leave you and never come back." Loving someone is a harrowing chance to take, but how can you be fulfilled if you abstain from taking it? This is one of many hard lessons for Uly and Mia, who have to grow up quickly without their mothers' guidance. Only in the shadow of profound mourning will Mia come to peace with the fact that life is comprised of tragedy and joy in roughly equal shares. "Sometimes," Mia observes, "there's a fire in the fields. A lot of foxes will breathe the smoke." Some of them will die. "But from the ashes, the trees will grow back greener, better than before. And there will be lots of good things to eat. And even though the fire was scary, and even though it took some foxes away...the other foxes will remember. They'll remember the foxes who died. They'll remember the smell of the smoke. And they'll tell all their friends and siblings and kits about it so that it never has to happen again. And all the foxes will live happily ever after...Or as happy as they can be, at least." Regrowth cannot begin without the awful blaze preceding it. This is life, a seesaw of regrets and blessings you ride until the day you die. You'll wonder at times if the bad is worth the good, but experiencing both is the only way to be fully alive. Hold tightly to the rare, fleeting gift while it's yours, before it slips through your fingers forever. With a little luck and a lot of love, by the end of your story you'll know it was worth every crisis you endured.
Unusual a junior novel as Scary Stories for Young Foxes is, it's clearly Newbery caliber. Christian McKay Heidicker writes in beauty and power, compressing life's messy elements into just over three hundred pages. Junyi Wu's illustrations are a wondrous mixture of darkness and light, bleakness and hope, adding dramatic dimension to the narrative. Some of the characterizations could be more complete, a few storylines seem to be left dangling, and I'm not totally sold on the revelation about the storyteller at the end, but these aren't major issues, and I think I'd rate Scary Stories for Young Foxes the full three stars. Christian McKay Heidicker's philosophy of story harks back to some of the masters of juvenile literature—Louisa May Alcott, Richard Adams, Katherine Paterson, Avi, Brian Jacques—and this book is a fresh perspective on core values of the human spirit. I promise to treasure it always.