When you’ve been following the Printz Award as long as I have—26 years and counting—it’s easy to make obvious picks such as Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Yang and LeUyen Pham, The Enigma Girls by Candace Fleming, and Twenty Four Seconds From Now...A Love Story by Jason Reynolds, highly acclaimed titles from popular authors that would be welcome choices. It’s almost more fun to think about the inevitable surprises that will come. Consider that the 2024 Printz committee gave us The Collectors, only the second short story collection recognized after Black Juice (2006) and the second multi-author anthology after Heart to Heart (2002). Or that Fire from the Sky (2024), which is only the third translated book after Nothing (2011) and The Beast Player (2020), also briefly interrupts a developing trend away from the international books prevalent during the earlier years of the award. In an effort to leave no stone unturned, consider the following titles. 

I am deeply enamored with Renee Watson’s Black Girl You Are Atlas, a short poetry collection whose length belies its emotional heft; its themes of identity, community, and resilience are sure to resonate with a wide audience. There is an interesting sidebar conversation with this one: are Ekua Holmes’s collage illustrations so integral to the success of the book that she is deserving of recognition, too? To my mind, considering the interplay of the art and text only makes a stronger case, but that decision will be left to the committee’s discretion. While the Printz Award continues to recognize narratives in verse, it’s been awhile since the only poetry collections were recognized: the aforementioned Heart to Heart (2002) and A Wreath for Emmett Till (2006). In theory, the poetry genre benefits from the close reading that committee work demands; it should have a bigger presence in the canon. 

As an extremely plot-driven reader with a strong aversion to present-tense narration, I would not typically gravitate to Canto Contigo, but the world that Jonny Garza Villa creates for their characters is so wonderfully magical that I cannot help myself. Who else could so effortlessly mix authentic and affirming LGBTQIA+ representation, the competitive world of high school mariachi, and a rivals-to-lovers romantic trope? Committee work always forces you to read books outside your comfort zone and when a book can win you over so completely, then it’s often the sign of a special book. Here’s hoping that my special book will also be their special book. 

Eddy Eddy has one of my least favorite covers of the year and, paradoxically, one of my favorite stories. Kate De Goldi has written the kind of literary crossover novel that the Printz often favors. It’s the story of an orphaned New Zealand teenager struggling to make sense of life in the aftermath of the devastating Christchurch earthquakes (and since we’ve all been dealing with earthquakes of one kind or another—intractable political divisions, climate change disasters, and health crises—it captures the zeitgeist of contemporary times). With fabulous writing, unforgettable characters, an impeccable sense of time and place, it also happens to be a loose retelling of A Christmas Carol. Fun fact: authors from Australia and New Zealand were recognized nine times between 2006 and 2012 but none before or since. 

Paula Yoo’s Rising From the Ashes focuses on the riotous aftermath of the Rodney King verdict which left a trail of death and destruction in its wake. Focusing on three individuals and their families, yet layering in other voices and additional context, Yoo delivers a nuanced treatment of historically marginalized communities fighting for a piece of the American Dream. Excluding memoirs, the Printz has only recognized five nonfiction books, but two of them have come in the past three years—Revolution In Our Time (2022) and Queer Ducks (2023)—so perhaps the tide is turning. This book delivers the same powerful thematic examination of the human condition that we have come to expect from the previous nonfiction winners.

[Read: The Printz Grows Up: High Points in the History of an Influential Award]

And last, but not least, there is Quagmire Tiarello Couldn’t Be Better by Mylisa Larsen which mixes humor and pathos in equal parts. Quag has had to grow up faster than most kids, thanks to his mentally ill and criminally negligent mother, but when his life spins out of control he has to learn that coming of age may mean acting his age. Quagmire Tiarello actually could be better. He could be better with, say, the Newbery Medal fastened to his book jacket in addition to a silver Printz Honor sticker. That would place it in the elite company of books recognized by both committees: The House of the Scorpion (2003), Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy (2005), and Long Way Down (2018). Failing that, it would still land in a small handful of books positioned in the middle school end of the Printz age range.

Jonathan Hunt is a coordinator of library media services at the San Diego County Office of Education. He has served on numerous award committees, including the Printz. Follow him on X @jhunt24.