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Too Bright to See
A haunting ghost story about navigating grief, growing up, and growing into a new gender identity
It's the summer before middle school and eleven-year-old Bug's best friend Moira has decided the two of them need to use the next few months to prepare. For Moira, this means figuring out the right clothes to wear, learning how to put on makeup, and deciding which boys are cuter in their yearbook photos than in real life. But none of this is all that appealing to Bug, who doesn't particularly want to spend more time trying to understand how to be a girl. Besides, there's something more important to worry about: A ghost is haunting Bug's eerie old house in rural Vermont...and maybe haunting Bug in particular. As Bug begins to untangle the mystery of who this ghost is and what they're trying to say, an altogether different truth comes to light--Bug is transgender.
It's the summer before middle school and eleven-year-old Bug's best friend Moira has decided the two of them need to use the next few months to prepare. For Moira, this means figuring out the right clothes to wear, learning how to put on makeup, and deciding which boys are cuter in their yearbook photos than in real life. But none of this is all that appealing to Bug, who doesn't particularly want to spend more time trying to understand how to be a girl. Besides, there's something more important to worry about: A ghost is haunting Bug's eerie old house in rural Vermont...and maybe haunting Bug in particular. As Bug begins to untangle the mystery of who this ghost is and what they're trying to say, an altogether different truth comes to light--Bug is transgender.
192 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 20, 2021
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February 18, 2021
A great book can inspire a great review but it’s not a one-to-one correlation. Just because I’ve read an amazing book for kids, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to be able to string words together that make that fact tangible to anyone else. Many is the time that I’ve sat down to write a really ripping review only to find my fingertips failing over and over again to convey what it was about the book that was so very great. Authors, I have found, are still very kind when this happens. Your review might be a mighty font of mediocre and still they’ll tell you that it made them feel good. But other reviewers and members of the general public? They know. They know and you have to walk off realizing that you just completely failed to help place that book in the firmament of great children’s literature where it so richly deserves to be. Well not today, suckers! Today we are going to drill down and get right smack dab into the middle of why Kyle Lukoff’s Too Bright to See is as groundbreaking as it is. Because this isn’t just your average ghost story. When we talk about wanting to see a diverse range of books for kids, this is precisely what we should be thinking of. And yes, there will be oodles of spoilers. Best know that right now.
Uncle Roderick is dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever, about that. Bug and Bug’s mom, who lived with him for many years, are distraught but getting by. Of course, for Bug, things are never actually normal. Their house is haunted (always has been) but that’s par for the course. What's strange is that middle school is looming and Bug’s best friend Moira is determined to get them ready. That means makeovers, nail polish, shopping for clothes, the works! Bug’s not sure what to think about all this, even before the ghosts start acting increasingly strange. First there’s a broken bottle of nail polish. Then the destruction to a bedroom. As things escalate, Bug begins to suspect that this is the work of a brand new ghost. A familiar ghost. A ghost with a very specific message, but only if Bug’s ready to hear it.
Once I was on a plane flipping channels and I came across a ghost-related docu-series that appeared to have been strapped for cash in the course of filming. The television show was recounting a typical low-key haunting. Nothing like spooky noises or faces reflected in glass or anything like that. It was just that a woman had taken off her shoes by the front door, walked to the couch, and taken a nap. When she woke up the shoes were neatly tucked under the couch where she slept. Reader, I found this unspeakably terrifying. You can try to pull out all the usual horror techniques, but that simple act of something in your home not being quite right . . . that’s my nightmare. It is for that reason, then, that I highly enjoyed the scares Kyle puts in this book. There’s a kind of poltergeistish sequence that will probably get more attention from the kids, but for me the freakiest moment in the whole darn book is when Bug wakes up and sees everything in the bedroom has been thrown into chaos. Silently. While Bug slept. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to crawl under the covers of MY bed right now, never to return. I’ll spare you a description of the moment when Bug wakes up and opens a sock drawer.
Yet horror for horror’s sake rings hollow. You could get a ripping good yarn out of it, but horror is often most interesting when it gloms onto an aspect of society that someone, somewhere finds horrifying. The film Get Out is both a classic body snatcher storyline and a comment on race. Likewise, Too Bright to See takes little moments and makes them both scary and smart. The best of these is what Bug sees when looking in a mirror. Sometimes, we hear, the face in the mirror isn’t Bug’s. It does everything Bug does, perfectly, but it’s not BUG’s face. “It looks like someone’s idea of what I look like, without me behind it.” There are other examples of this, like the dream where Bug feels compelled to keep putting dresses on, even though they’re painful, and cannot seem to stop. Some kids will read, or even reread, this book and see what Lukoff's doing with these moments. And when they do they'll have this fantastic lightbulb moment. The kind of thing an author lives for.
There’s a moment at the end of the book where Kyle does something in his Author’s Note that I’ve never really seen before. He admits that if you tell other people precisely what this book is about you “might feel like taking away your friend’s chance to fully experience the story.” There’s an element of surprise about this book and Kyle addresses that. How does one discuss this book with other people, if you want to retain that element of surprise? He might as well be talking to reviewers too. You already read my warning up top that there would be spoilers in this review, so here’s the facts of the matter (which you may already know anyway): This is a trans narrative for kids, couched in language that could make sense to everybody. For example, at one point in the book Bug discovers information about transgender people under Uncle Roderick’s bed. “A lot of the trans people telling their stories talked more about a general feeling of not-rightness. Like people looking at you through a frosted glass window, guessing at what they were seeing.” And Bug, in the course of things, is discovering that he is trans. As this book becomes more and more famous (and it will) we’re going to have people approach it with assumptions of their own. And for them, reading this book will be about hearing about Bug’s journey. Bug, who doesn’t just feel like other people are looking at him through frosted glass. He’s seeing himself that way too, for quite some time.
What Lukoff does so well here is zero in on the changing self as self. This is perfectly stated when Bug critiques the “be yourself” advice that kids get. What “self” exactly? Books for kids do this all the time. “But those books never tell you how to figure out what your self is. They assume that you know already, and are pretending to be someone else for a while to fit in.” The book is so good at making Bug’s understanding of self as vague as it feels at that age. There’s a desperate honesty to it. Really, I kept thinking about how well Too Bright to See would pair with Pity Party by Kathleen Lane. Because that’s 2021 in a nutshell: The Year of Global/Bodily/Interior Uncertainty. Both books zero in beautifully on the dichotomy between what kids feel like and what they present. There’s a moment when Bug remembers being around a new kid named Griffin, trying to act “normal”. “Being around Griffin, just for a few minutes, felt like I was practicing how to be a better version of myself. It needs work, but maybe if I practice often enough it will start to feel natural. Maybe it will stop being something I have to practice, and something I’ll just be. Maybe that’s what growing up is like. Practice makes a person.” Don’t ask us, kid. There's a whole slew of adults out there wondering that very same thing.
It doesn’t hurt any that the writing’s great. One such moment is when Bug is thinking about the different knots of kids in the cafeteria of the new middle school. “And I imagine myself floating past all of them, always on the outside, no one noticing me, because there’s nothing to notice. Like their groups form a complex molecule, a perfect organism, impenetrable and complete…” Or how about the time when Bug is wearing a dress borrowed from Moira: “It looks good, and makes my stomach hurt … More like I’ve swallowed my bike chain. Greasy and cold, rising up into the back of my throat, making me shudder.” Okay, I’ll stop myself now. But seriously, this is good stuff.
Kyle’s a former school librarian so you know he’s read a LOT of middle grade novels over the years. That can actually be a bit of a problem for a writer. I can’t speak for him, but I know that when I write I can sometimes have a hard time separating out different plotlines that I’ve already seen in books for children from the ones I myself want to write. The trick is to incorporate what you know. Take this book. At one point Bug has been given a surprise birthday party by Moira with a bunch of strange girls. It reads, “If this scene happened in a book, the older girls would be a little mean to me. Not outright bullying, but subtly making sure I know that I’m not one of them.” Oh god, it’s not just librarians like us that are tired of that trope. Kids are tired of it too. They are so familiar with the seemingly obligatory passive aggressive bullying scene that I can almost hear them all release a breath they didn’t know they were holding when Kyle wrote this. The girls who are hanging out with Bug? Nice people! Nice decent people. Did you know that they made nice decent people anymore? You wouldn’t if you read the bulk of MG novels out there. This book’s a breath of fresh air.
Now I’ll admit that it can be dangerous for an author to admit to the tropes of middle grade literature. Why? Well, why do you think they get used all the time? Easy drama. Take away that drama and what do you have? But the thing about this book is that there is plenty of drama. It just happens to be internal. And if the dang book ends with an understanding principal, nice kids, and a school that has five single-stall restrooms evenly spaced throughout the building, let it! You really can’t critique a book for giving its hero a supportive environment at the end. Anyone who says this ending is “unrealistic” will, in part, be saying that if a trans character doesn’t suffer at the hands of society then something is wrong. And that, my friends, is just stupid.
I’m an adult who reads books for children. Many, many books for children. Normally this isn’t a problem but on occasion I have to grab my own kids and use them to figure out if an author is doing something obvious or hidden. At one point in the book, Bug starts receiving messages from Uncle Roderick. The Ouija Board’s words give Bug a hard time, trying to figure them out. Looking at them, I thought it would be incredibly obvious to kids, but I wasn’t sure. So I grabbed the nearest 9-year-old and read the passage to her. To my infinite relief she was not seeing what I was. Not even slightly. It was both a relief and a reminder that when we critique books written for an audience to which we do not belong, we need to be careful about our assumptions.
Eleven years ago, trans author Jenny Boylan wrote the middle grade fantasy novel Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror. And at the time we simply didn’t have any middle grade trans narratives, and that book seemed to be edging (slowly) in that direction. But compare that book then to this book now. Back then everything had to be couched in these metaphors so thick you could hardly see through them. Kyle Lukoff? His books are transparent. You see what he’s saying as he’s saying it, even if what he’s saying is couched in mystery at the story’s start. There’s not a wisp of obfuscation about the enterprise. Fans of ghost stories may find themselves disappointed that this book ends in self-discovery rather than a rip-roaring showdown with a furious phantom. They’ll get over it. The publisher sold this book to me as Doll Bones with a trans narrative and maybe that’s the best description you should hope for. Smart. Original. Necessary. Thank god we have this book now.
For ages 9-12.
Uncle Roderick is dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever, about that. Bug and Bug’s mom, who lived with him for many years, are distraught but getting by. Of course, for Bug, things are never actually normal. Their house is haunted (always has been) but that’s par for the course. What's strange is that middle school is looming and Bug’s best friend Moira is determined to get them ready. That means makeovers, nail polish, shopping for clothes, the works! Bug’s not sure what to think about all this, even before the ghosts start acting increasingly strange. First there’s a broken bottle of nail polish. Then the destruction to a bedroom. As things escalate, Bug begins to suspect that this is the work of a brand new ghost. A familiar ghost. A ghost with a very specific message, but only if Bug’s ready to hear it.
Once I was on a plane flipping channels and I came across a ghost-related docu-series that appeared to have been strapped for cash in the course of filming. The television show was recounting a typical low-key haunting. Nothing like spooky noises or faces reflected in glass or anything like that. It was just that a woman had taken off her shoes by the front door, walked to the couch, and taken a nap. When she woke up the shoes were neatly tucked under the couch where she slept. Reader, I found this unspeakably terrifying. You can try to pull out all the usual horror techniques, but that simple act of something in your home not being quite right . . . that’s my nightmare. It is for that reason, then, that I highly enjoyed the scares Kyle puts in this book. There’s a kind of poltergeistish sequence that will probably get more attention from the kids, but for me the freakiest moment in the whole darn book is when Bug wakes up and sees everything in the bedroom has been thrown into chaos. Silently. While Bug slept. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to crawl under the covers of MY bed right now, never to return. I’ll spare you a description of the moment when Bug wakes up and opens a sock drawer.
Yet horror for horror’s sake rings hollow. You could get a ripping good yarn out of it, but horror is often most interesting when it gloms onto an aspect of society that someone, somewhere finds horrifying. The film Get Out is both a classic body snatcher storyline and a comment on race. Likewise, Too Bright to See takes little moments and makes them both scary and smart. The best of these is what Bug sees when looking in a mirror. Sometimes, we hear, the face in the mirror isn’t Bug’s. It does everything Bug does, perfectly, but it’s not BUG’s face. “It looks like someone’s idea of what I look like, without me behind it.” There are other examples of this, like the dream where Bug feels compelled to keep putting dresses on, even though they’re painful, and cannot seem to stop. Some kids will read, or even reread, this book and see what Lukoff's doing with these moments. And when they do they'll have this fantastic lightbulb moment. The kind of thing an author lives for.
There’s a moment at the end of the book where Kyle does something in his Author’s Note that I’ve never really seen before. He admits that if you tell other people precisely what this book is about you “might feel like taking away your friend’s chance to fully experience the story.” There’s an element of surprise about this book and Kyle addresses that. How does one discuss this book with other people, if you want to retain that element of surprise? He might as well be talking to reviewers too. You already read my warning up top that there would be spoilers in this review, so here’s the facts of the matter (which you may already know anyway): This is a trans narrative for kids, couched in language that could make sense to everybody. For example, at one point in the book Bug discovers information about transgender people under Uncle Roderick’s bed. “A lot of the trans people telling their stories talked more about a general feeling of not-rightness. Like people looking at you through a frosted glass window, guessing at what they were seeing.” And Bug, in the course of things, is discovering that he is trans. As this book becomes more and more famous (and it will) we’re going to have people approach it with assumptions of their own. And for them, reading this book will be about hearing about Bug’s journey. Bug, who doesn’t just feel like other people are looking at him through frosted glass. He’s seeing himself that way too, for quite some time.
What Lukoff does so well here is zero in on the changing self as self. This is perfectly stated when Bug critiques the “be yourself” advice that kids get. What “self” exactly? Books for kids do this all the time. “But those books never tell you how to figure out what your self is. They assume that you know already, and are pretending to be someone else for a while to fit in.” The book is so good at making Bug’s understanding of self as vague as it feels at that age. There’s a desperate honesty to it. Really, I kept thinking about how well Too Bright to See would pair with Pity Party by Kathleen Lane. Because that’s 2021 in a nutshell: The Year of Global/Bodily/Interior Uncertainty. Both books zero in beautifully on the dichotomy between what kids feel like and what they present. There’s a moment when Bug remembers being around a new kid named Griffin, trying to act “normal”. “Being around Griffin, just for a few minutes, felt like I was practicing how to be a better version of myself. It needs work, but maybe if I practice often enough it will start to feel natural. Maybe it will stop being something I have to practice, and something I’ll just be. Maybe that’s what growing up is like. Practice makes a person.” Don’t ask us, kid. There's a whole slew of adults out there wondering that very same thing.
It doesn’t hurt any that the writing’s great. One such moment is when Bug is thinking about the different knots of kids in the cafeteria of the new middle school. “And I imagine myself floating past all of them, always on the outside, no one noticing me, because there’s nothing to notice. Like their groups form a complex molecule, a perfect organism, impenetrable and complete…” Or how about the time when Bug is wearing a dress borrowed from Moira: “It looks good, and makes my stomach hurt … More like I’ve swallowed my bike chain. Greasy and cold, rising up into the back of my throat, making me shudder.” Okay, I’ll stop myself now. But seriously, this is good stuff.
Kyle’s a former school librarian so you know he’s read a LOT of middle grade novels over the years. That can actually be a bit of a problem for a writer. I can’t speak for him, but I know that when I write I can sometimes have a hard time separating out different plotlines that I’ve already seen in books for children from the ones I myself want to write. The trick is to incorporate what you know. Take this book. At one point Bug has been given a surprise birthday party by Moira with a bunch of strange girls. It reads, “If this scene happened in a book, the older girls would be a little mean to me. Not outright bullying, but subtly making sure I know that I’m not one of them.” Oh god, it’s not just librarians like us that are tired of that trope. Kids are tired of it too. They are so familiar with the seemingly obligatory passive aggressive bullying scene that I can almost hear them all release a breath they didn’t know they were holding when Kyle wrote this. The girls who are hanging out with Bug? Nice people! Nice decent people. Did you know that they made nice decent people anymore? You wouldn’t if you read the bulk of MG novels out there. This book’s a breath of fresh air.
Now I’ll admit that it can be dangerous for an author to admit to the tropes of middle grade literature. Why? Well, why do you think they get used all the time? Easy drama. Take away that drama and what do you have? But the thing about this book is that there is plenty of drama. It just happens to be internal. And if the dang book ends with an understanding principal, nice kids, and a school that has five single-stall restrooms evenly spaced throughout the building, let it! You really can’t critique a book for giving its hero a supportive environment at the end. Anyone who says this ending is “unrealistic” will, in part, be saying that if a trans character doesn’t suffer at the hands of society then something is wrong. And that, my friends, is just stupid.
I’m an adult who reads books for children. Many, many books for children. Normally this isn’t a problem but on occasion I have to grab my own kids and use them to figure out if an author is doing something obvious or hidden. At one point in the book, Bug starts receiving messages from Uncle Roderick. The Ouija Board’s words give Bug a hard time, trying to figure them out. Looking at them, I thought it would be incredibly obvious to kids, but I wasn’t sure. So I grabbed the nearest 9-year-old and read the passage to her. To my infinite relief she was not seeing what I was. Not even slightly. It was both a relief and a reminder that when we critique books written for an audience to which we do not belong, we need to be careful about our assumptions.
Eleven years ago, trans author Jenny Boylan wrote the middle grade fantasy novel Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror. And at the time we simply didn’t have any middle grade trans narratives, and that book seemed to be edging (slowly) in that direction. But compare that book then to this book now. Back then everything had to be couched in these metaphors so thick you could hardly see through them. Kyle Lukoff? His books are transparent. You see what he’s saying as he’s saying it, even if what he’s saying is couched in mystery at the story’s start. There’s not a wisp of obfuscation about the enterprise. Fans of ghost stories may find themselves disappointed that this book ends in self-discovery rather than a rip-roaring showdown with a furious phantom. They’ll get over it. The publisher sold this book to me as Doll Bones with a trans narrative and maybe that’s the best description you should hope for. Smart. Original. Necessary. Thank god we have this book now.
For ages 9-12.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 2, 2022
This was such a beautiful reading experience. I was expecting more of a creepy type of ghost story but instead it was more about grief after the main character's uncle passes away. This was masterfully combined with the main character working out he's transgender - both storylines are woven together perfectly.
It was so refreshing and comforting to read a trans coming out story that just completely lacked transphobia and was so incredibly supportive.
It was so refreshing and comforting to read a trans coming out story that just completely lacked transphobia and was so incredibly supportive.
January 28, 2021
I got a free ARC of this book via NetGalley.
I don't know how to begin here, except to say that as I write I'm still happy-ugly-crying from reading the majority of this book all in one go over the course of one evening. I do think that grown-up trans people might have this response a lot more than the kids who this book is intended for. Fair warning for all grown-up trans people.
Uncle Roderick just died, and Bug is about to start middle school. Bug, always a bookish, slightly weird, slightly lonesome child, loved Uncle Roderick, a gay man and drag queen who acted as an additional parent; now, in the wake of his passing, Bug is faced with the absence not only of Roderick, but of a childhood hiding in the ambiguity of vague tomboyishness. Bug's best friend Moira (formerly known by the tomboyish moniker Mo) feels she and Bug need to be made-over before the start of middle school in fall, and brings makeup and nail polish around constantly to try to fix the issues she sees with both of their vibes. Bug hates this, and also has no other friends. There is something had has never really clicked between Bug and other people. Bug narrates the details of life in the third person: "she went wading in the creek, catching minnows," "she climbed a tree," and imagines constantly that the events of Dickensenian fantasy books are what's happening instead of real life. Sometimes Bug looks in the mirror and Bug's face isn't Bug's face. But that's just how mirrors are, right?
Then there's the ghosts.
Bug's house is old (it's in Vermont) and it's always had ghosts. Bug feels them in cold spots, in vague hands snatching, and in dreams that once terrified baby Bug, sending baby Bug spinning down the hall into Uncle Roderick's arms. But now there's something else happening. Strange violent pranks seem to be targeting Bug, destroying small things around the house and hurting Moira. Bug knows Uncle Roderick wouldn't want to hurt anyone, but his presence also seems to definitely linger-- strange things point to his spirit still being present, sending Bug down a rabbit hole of combing through Roderick's things and researching ghosts desperately at the library. Bug realizes that if Roderick is still around, he must be trying to tell Bug something. But what?
And why did Roderick have all those materials about accepting trans youth in his closet?
A note appears, in Roderick's hand, in chicken scratch, but the words aren't words. Bug can't read it.
There are more trans kid books now than there used to be, and I appreciate the slow fattening of the meat on the bone, so to speak, but this is the first book I've found that captures and appreciates the haunting hollowness of adolescent dysphoria. I loved ghost books as a kid, and I think the unearthly feeling I had in my own body was part of why. Lukoff's real/unreal magic that is viscerally true to Bug but invisible to others works perfectly and is both chilling and undeniable. There is a beautiful scene where Bug stands in a creek and hears a strange chorus of ghost voices who shout out to him, filling his head with noise, but indecipherable--the chorus thins out until Bug hears a voice that is unmistakably Roderick, shouting, then talking, then whispering comfortingly-- but whose words are not comprehensible. Lukoff pairs the pain of living with a sensation of alienation and distraction one can't identify with one of the other major negative emotions I experience as a queer person: grief for the people who came before you who cannot speak to you in the ways you need, because they're gone. The loss of our queer parents, our caregivers, generations of people we might have been or loved or been loved by, is overwhelming, but it's something that kids feel too. In Lukoff's vision, our loved ones also love us, and they sometimes scream to us when we need to hear truth about the world we live in now. And we can love them, and they know.
Bug ends up okay in this; Bug experiences no bullying or cruelty, though there is grief and alienation and misunderstanding and financial precarity. This is as upbeat a book as any you will find, but it's also engaged deeply with the realities of living, and it is an honest and absolutely necessary thing to provide our children with.
(And for me and other grown-ups, our baby selves, hidden in us).
I don't know how to begin here, except to say that as I write I'm still happy-ugly-crying from reading the majority of this book all in one go over the course of one evening. I do think that grown-up trans people might have this response a lot more than the kids who this book is intended for. Fair warning for all grown-up trans people.
Uncle Roderick just died, and Bug is about to start middle school. Bug, always a bookish, slightly weird, slightly lonesome child, loved Uncle Roderick, a gay man and drag queen who acted as an additional parent; now, in the wake of his passing, Bug is faced with the absence not only of Roderick, but of a childhood hiding in the ambiguity of vague tomboyishness. Bug's best friend Moira (formerly known by the tomboyish moniker Mo) feels she and Bug need to be made-over before the start of middle school in fall, and brings makeup and nail polish around constantly to try to fix the issues she sees with both of their vibes. Bug hates this, and also has no other friends. There is something had has never really clicked between Bug and other people. Bug narrates the details of life in the third person: "she went wading in the creek, catching minnows," "she climbed a tree," and imagines constantly that the events of Dickensenian fantasy books are what's happening instead of real life. Sometimes Bug looks in the mirror and Bug's face isn't Bug's face. But that's just how mirrors are, right?
Then there's the ghosts.
Bug's house is old (it's in Vermont) and it's always had ghosts. Bug feels them in cold spots, in vague hands snatching, and in dreams that once terrified baby Bug, sending baby Bug spinning down the hall into Uncle Roderick's arms. But now there's something else happening. Strange violent pranks seem to be targeting Bug, destroying small things around the house and hurting Moira. Bug knows Uncle Roderick wouldn't want to hurt anyone, but his presence also seems to definitely linger-- strange things point to his spirit still being present, sending Bug down a rabbit hole of combing through Roderick's things and researching ghosts desperately at the library. Bug realizes that if Roderick is still around, he must be trying to tell Bug something. But what?
And why did Roderick have all those materials about accepting trans youth in his closet?
A note appears, in Roderick's hand, in chicken scratch, but the words aren't words. Bug can't read it.
There are more trans kid books now than there used to be, and I appreciate the slow fattening of the meat on the bone, so to speak, but this is the first book I've found that captures and appreciates the haunting hollowness of adolescent dysphoria. I loved ghost books as a kid, and I think the unearthly feeling I had in my own body was part of why. Lukoff's real/unreal magic that is viscerally true to Bug but invisible to others works perfectly and is both chilling and undeniable. There is a beautiful scene where Bug stands in a creek and hears a strange chorus of ghost voices who shout out to him, filling his head with noise, but indecipherable--the chorus thins out until Bug hears a voice that is unmistakably Roderick, shouting, then talking, then whispering comfortingly-- but whose words are not comprehensible. Lukoff pairs the pain of living with a sensation of alienation and distraction one can't identify with one of the other major negative emotions I experience as a queer person: grief for the people who came before you who cannot speak to you in the ways you need, because they're gone. The loss of our queer parents, our caregivers, generations of people we might have been or loved or been loved by, is overwhelming, but it's something that kids feel too. In Lukoff's vision, our loved ones also love us, and they sometimes scream to us when we need to hear truth about the world we live in now. And we can love them, and they know.
Bug ends up okay in this; Bug experiences no bullying or cruelty, though there is grief and alienation and misunderstanding and financial precarity. This is as upbeat a book as any you will find, but it's also engaged deeply with the realities of living, and it is an honest and absolutely necessary thing to provide our children with.
(And for me and other grown-ups, our baby selves, hidden in us).
March 8, 2023
A very short middle grade book which still manages to deliver a very successful ghost story and a sweet trans coming out narrative. The book opens at the beginning of the summer, when 11 year old Bug's beloved queer uncle has just died. Bug's house was already haunted before this death, but it's even more so after his passing. Bug struggles to process grief as well as pressures from friends to prepare for the transition to middle school- an opportunity some kids take to reinvent themselves. But Bug is haunted by both uncertainty about the future and literal ghosts.
January 27, 2022
I think the ghost story parallel to the coming-of-age story is an interesting concept and I can certainly understand the connection the author wanted the reader to make and the symbolism being used. However, I don't think either idea is executed as well as they could have been and aspects of both feel contrived. The ghost story isn't overly compelling because it's obvious to the reader who the ghost is and what they want. The coming-of-age portion of the story didn't work for me because Bug was too naive for the sake of the plot.
For example...
Furthermore, there is a crowd of people who believe that certain adults have too much influence in children making decisions like Bug does in this book. That crowd would have a field day with the way the ghost of uncle Rodrick pretty much scares Bug into coming out of his closet. Not sure that's the message that needed/wanted to be sent here.
For example...
Furthermore, there is a crowd of people who believe that certain adults have too much influence in children making decisions like Bug does in this book. That crowd would have a field day with the way the ghost of uncle Rodrick pretty much scares Bug into coming out of his closet. Not sure that's the message that needed/wanted to be sent here.
June 9, 2021
This book is about a kid who lives in a haunted house. Her dead uncle comes back to haunt her, shaves her head and tells her she's a boy. Even the dog knew it - he only barks at boys, not girls. Then her life is magically better. That's the first 90% of the book. The last 10% of the book is political indoctrination. Things that are controversial - and for good reason - are given a one-sided look that a 12-year old would likely not be able to see through.
Unfortunately, given the political leanings of the current Newbery committee, this book will probably win a Newbery honor.
Unfortunately, given the political leanings of the current Newbery committee, this book will probably win a Newbery honor.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 29, 2021
Absolutely perfect middle grade story. I can not WAIT to hand it to the gazillion kids who ask for a “new scary book” ~ I might have to order 10 copies to have on hand? I’m going to do what my friend Laura (@librarianmsg on Instagram) said and not give you any details about the story ~ that’s what the author wants too! But I will give you the description he recommends: “It’s about a kid being haunted by the ghosts of their dead uncle into figuring out something important! It’s kind of a scary story, and also a sad story but with a mostly happy ending, and it’s about figuring out how to make friends, being who you are, and letting go of someone you love.” I will say that there is no abuse because I immediately confirmed that with Laura before being willing to pick it up cold. This book made me cry and laugh and I simply love it.
April 2, 2022
I'm sure I'll get backlash for this, but as a parent rooted in my Christian faith, I found this book both problematic and dangerous.
Too Bright to See is a sweetly written bit of indoctrination at best and dangerous LGBTQ+ propaganda with a side of occultism at its worst. The protagonist, Bug, is 11 and confused about who she is. She doesn't feel like she fits in. She feels like her best friend has it all together but she doesn't even recognize her own reflection. Can any other former 11-year-olds relate? I'm sure it's not just me.
In taking this complex topic and distilling it for a middle grade audience, Kyle Lukoff oversimplifies Bug's experience and makes it universal. Lukoff, inadvertently perhaps, conflates disinterest in makeup and shopping with not being a girl. But really, there are PLENTY of girls of ALL ages who would rather curl up with a book, wander the woods, or even sport "boy clothes" over fussing with makeup or shopping any day. The fact is, Bug's experience of not fitting in is universal. To suggest to 3rd-5th graders anything else is dishonest and potentially dangerous. A 9-year-old reading this could easily slide down the slippery slope of relating to Bug then reaching the same conclusions as Bug. But if Bug actually is dealing with gender dysphoria, Bug is in the minority.
As for occult concerns, note that there is use of a Ouija board in this book. That is not something to mess around with. Ouija boards are dangerous and can make the user vulnerable to evil spirits. Why would anyone who cares about kids suggest using one, other than ignorance?
Finally, let's be honest about the fantasy aspect. I think it's wonderful that Bug got all the love a kid could hope for in the end, but really? In the real world, anti-bully policies or not, it happens to MOST kids at some point. To suggest that it would be all rainbows and unicorns for Bug is fantastical.
But, hey, Lukoff got the voice of an authentic 11-year-old right. I'll give two stars for that.
Too Bright to See is a sweetly written bit of indoctrination at best and dangerous LGBTQ+ propaganda with a side of occultism at its worst. The protagonist, Bug, is 11 and confused about who she is. She doesn't feel like she fits in. She feels like her best friend has it all together but she doesn't even recognize her own reflection. Can any other former 11-year-olds relate? I'm sure it's not just me.
In taking this complex topic and distilling it for a middle grade audience, Kyle Lukoff oversimplifies Bug's experience and makes it universal. Lukoff, inadvertently perhaps, conflates disinterest in makeup and shopping with not being a girl. But really, there are PLENTY of girls of ALL ages who would rather curl up with a book, wander the woods, or even sport "boy clothes" over fussing with makeup or shopping any day. The fact is, Bug's experience of not fitting in is universal. To suggest to 3rd-5th graders anything else is dishonest and potentially dangerous. A 9-year-old reading this could easily slide down the slippery slope of relating to Bug then reaching the same conclusions as Bug. But if Bug actually is dealing with gender dysphoria, Bug is in the minority.
As for occult concerns, note that there is use of a Ouija board in this book. That is not something to mess around with. Ouija boards are dangerous and can make the user vulnerable to evil spirits. Why would anyone who cares about kids suggest using one, other than ignorance?
Finally, let's be honest about the fantasy aspect. I think it's wonderful that Bug got all the love a kid could hope for in the end, but really? In the real world, anti-bully policies or not, it happens to MOST kids at some point. To suggest that it would be all rainbows and unicorns for Bug is fantastical.
But, hey, Lukoff got the voice of an authentic 11-year-old right. I'll give two stars for that.
March 14, 2022
This is an important middle-grade novel. I appreciate how Lukoff treats the experience of a child understanding and coming into themselves as Trans. The ghost-related parts of the narrative are smart. The dialogue is strong.
I am giving this book 3-stars however because I found that while reading the book I was bored. Lukoff does way more telling than showing which makes some of the narrative dull and repetitive. The protagonist feels something internally and feels the same thing again in the next chapter. Or, the protagonist thinks something revelatory and thinks it again some pages later. That feeling made me long for some action and dialogue as I read.
Too Bright to See would be a great short story and a lovely limited TV series. As a novel, it is an ok first attempt.
I am giving this book 3-stars however because I found that while reading the book I was bored. Lukoff does way more telling than showing which makes some of the narrative dull and repetitive. The protagonist feels something internally and feels the same thing again in the next chapter. Or, the protagonist thinks something revelatory and thinks it again some pages later. That feeling made me long for some action and dialogue as I read.
Too Bright to See would be a great short story and a lovely limited TV series. As a novel, it is an ok first attempt.
April 9, 2023
Okay okay wow the tears they are there this book is perfect my little grief struck trans self is so healed
April 1, 2022
I always read all the Newbery books and since I know I'm going to read them, I never look at what they're about. So I went into this book not knowing anything about the plot or the controversy around it.
About halfway through I was already over it. I could not connect with the writing it all. It just felt bland and unemotional. I was trying to think of something to compare this book to, and honestly, the first thing that came to mind was a dry piece of bread. It didn't help that the audiobook narrator was inexpressive and just as bland as the writing. At the halfway point, I still had no clue what the point of the book was.
When it all finally became clear I was just like...what? I like reading books about people that are different than me, because it helps me understand our beautiful, diverse world better, but this book did not do that at all. It was a mess mixing the ghosts with the gender identity story. I think it took away from the impactfulness of the book. The "ghosts" definitely should've been left out.
Personally, I wouldn't recommend this book because I don't think it's well written. Obviously a lot of people do like this book, and if it helps some child feel more seen and comfortable in their own skin, that's a great thing.
About halfway through I was already over it. I could not connect with the writing it all. It just felt bland and unemotional. I was trying to think of something to compare this book to, and honestly, the first thing that came to mind was a dry piece of bread. It didn't help that the audiobook narrator was inexpressive and just as bland as the writing. At the halfway point, I still had no clue what the point of the book was.
When it all finally became clear I was just like...what? I like reading books about people that are different than me, because it helps me understand our beautiful, diverse world better, but this book did not do that at all. It was a mess mixing the ghosts with the gender identity story. I think it took away from the impactfulness of the book. The "ghosts" definitely should've been left out.
Personally, I wouldn't recommend this book because I don't think it's well written. Obviously a lot of people do like this book, and if it helps some child feel more seen and comfortable in their own skin, that's a great thing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 2, 2021
It’s clear to me that Kyle Lukoff is a former school librarian! He knows we need more middle-grade novels with < 200 pages and without a long list of characters to confuse growing readers. And kids always reach for stories with ghosts! A beautiful coming-of-age novel worthy of being named a National Book Award finalist.
October 19, 2021
SPOILER: I feel like this book is a little bit ahead of it's time. Or, maybe, I'm stuck in the past. Bug's identity reveal as a trans boy just as he's starting middle school seems too good to be true. No tortured thoughts, no conflict with friends or family, everything goes perfectly. Everyone accepts him and it all happens--well, to be fair, he has been feeling uncomfortable for a long time, but in a kind of indefinable way--over one summer. I hope this is the way today's kids would react. I hope everyone would be loving and kind and respectful. That teachers and administrators would go out of their way to make him feel comfortable at school. That the school's anti-bullying policy would be enforceable. I really, really hope it's just me. But I'm not convinced.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 3, 2022
There were so many aspects of this novel that I adored. It not only deals with loss, but it also deals with identity difficulties. "It's hard to be yourself before you know who that is." This novel has so many great and heartwarming moments. Bug, our narrator, takes us on a beautiful and sometimes tragic journey through the experience of struggling with gender identification. We're also moved by a cast of supporting characters who offer their love and support in a variety of ways.
May 9, 2022
Too Bright to See follows an eleven year old kid who is dealing with the death of an uncle, preparing to start middle school, possibly living in a haunted house, and figuring out his gender identity. I liked how Kyle Lukoff used the ghosts to detail the main character’s grief and journey of figuring out that he’s trans. I did think the book felt somewhat lopsided, I wanted to see a bit more of what happened after he came out to his friends and family. But overall I really enjoyed this as an exploration of grief and gender identity for younger readers.
January 19, 2024
What begins as a ghost story, turns into a journey of finding phantoms of a different kind.
Bug lives with their mom in what they deem a "haunted house." Bug's recently deceased uncle actively discussed the various ghosts in the house, but Bug's mother doesn't mention it.
When Bug starts having more and more incidents occur, they can't help thinking it's their uncle trying to convey a message from beyond. But what could that message be? And what does it mean for Bug?
This is a book about growing up in so many ways and dealing with grief and realizing who you are in the world. It's too bad it's on a banned book list, because it should be available to any youth trying to find themselves in books.
Bug lives with their mom in what they deem a "haunted house." Bug's recently deceased uncle actively discussed the various ghosts in the house, but Bug's mother doesn't mention it.
When Bug starts having more and more incidents occur, they can't help thinking it's their uncle trying to convey a message from beyond. But what could that message be? And what does it mean for Bug?
This is a book about growing up in so many ways and dealing with grief and realizing who you are in the world. It's too bad it's on a banned book list, because it should be available to any youth trying to find themselves in books.
December 3, 2021
btw earlier in this stack of reviews I said I'd listened to 3 audiobooks in the last week but actually it was 4. I mean middle grade audios are like 4 hours long so it's been breezy. Anyway this is why I haven't done anything in the past week except read. I'm very behind on television. I STRUGGLE.
ok enough about my PROBLEMS, I loved this book and I think it's great that the audiobook reader is OwnVoices for the character.
I love that this is a book that validates young trans people in a slightly different way than a lot of other youth media and in fact seems to be in conversation with some other media--reassuring readers that it's okay to be questioning and not to immediately always KNOW your gender identity and that that doesn't make it any less valid (but nor does it invalidate those who have had a more immediate understanding that they are trans).
Bug is just such a GOOD KID and also their haunted house is cool and ughhh just *chef's kiss*
ok enough about my PROBLEMS, I loved this book and I think it's great that the audiobook reader is OwnVoices for the character.
I love that this is a book that validates young trans people in a slightly different way than a lot of other youth media and in fact seems to be in conversation with some other media--reassuring readers that it's okay to be questioning and not to immediately always KNOW your gender identity and that that doesn't make it any less valid (but nor does it invalidate those who have had a more immediate understanding that they are trans).
Bug is just such a GOOD KID and also their haunted house is cool and ughhh just *chef's kiss*
June 27, 2021
Does it make sense to say that I enjoyed this story, but not how it was told? The author’s note summarizes it as “a kid being haunted by the ghost of their dead uncle into figuring out something important.” I loved watching Bug explore gender identity and the process of discovering who he was, but the supernatural element didn’t work for me (I’m not a fan of realistic stories touched with magic). I would definitely recommend this story, though, and it reminded me of Ana of the Edge by A.J. Sass.
December 29, 2022
Please no attack on my review.
I love LGTBQ middle grade writers. Example Ashley Herring Blake is amazing so its not like I am going to write a negative review because the book is LGTBQ. This story is about a girl who loses her gay uncle. She believes there is his ghost in her house. He does different things to get her attention. She discovers trans information in his room and when she wakes up with her hair cut she decides to be a boy. Everyone accepts him and life is good. I have some problems with this. I wish this process would be this easy but those who changed sex probably can tell you it is a huge step and not something that is that easy. I wish the world would accept this it like this book but the truth is people aren't this nice and in most cases it takes time for people to accept the change. I know its a middle grade book but life isn't easy. Even when he went to school everyone just accept it, I wish kids were that accepting but as you know its not the case in most cases. I would love to read a book on this subject that really deals with the ups and downs of being a trans child. Like I said I don't want to be attack on my review but if you have read this book, what did you think of it. I loved Bug and her ghost problems and her loving mother and best friend. Just the fast transition was to fast for me. Read it for yourself and you can make this decision for yourself?
I love LGTBQ middle grade writers. Example Ashley Herring Blake is amazing so its not like I am going to write a negative review because the book is LGTBQ. This story is about a girl who loses her gay uncle. She believes there is his ghost in her house. He does different things to get her attention. She discovers trans information in his room and when she wakes up with her hair cut she decides to be a boy. Everyone accepts him and life is good. I have some problems with this. I wish this process would be this easy but those who changed sex probably can tell you it is a huge step and not something that is that easy. I wish the world would accept this it like this book but the truth is people aren't this nice and in most cases it takes time for people to accept the change. I know its a middle grade book but life isn't easy. Even when he went to school everyone just accept it, I wish kids were that accepting but as you know its not the case in most cases. I would love to read a book on this subject that really deals with the ups and downs of being a trans child. Like I said I don't want to be attack on my review but if you have read this book, what did you think of it. I loved Bug and her ghost problems and her loving mother and best friend. Just the fast transition was to fast for me. Read it for yourself and you can make this decision for yourself?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 27, 2023
Short sweet and to the point. A MG Trans story about HOPE and HAPPINESS and SUPPORT. Which is not a typical story for trans kids so that was really nice to see parents, friends, and school all support without a question.
It was a very quick and smooth read which I appreciated. VERY easy to put down and come back to without losing the story. Overall, there were so many heartfelt moments that I would HIGHLY recommend to readers 5th grade and up!!
It was a very quick and smooth read which I appreciated. VERY easy to put down and come back to without losing the story. Overall, there were so many heartfelt moments that I would HIGHLY recommend to readers 5th grade and up!!
January 2, 2023
Oh my goodness - yes!
First, let me say the narrator does an amazing job capturing the tone of this book.
A bit of a forced agenda, but done well. I enjoyed this book so much and I want to give all the characters in it and the author a big hug.
First, let me say the narrator does an amazing job capturing the tone of this book.
A bit of a forced agenda, but done well. I enjoyed this book so much and I want to give all the characters in it and the author a big hug.
Read
February 6, 2022This was such a beautiful book. I loved the ghost/haunting aspects, dealing with loss and grief, but I especially loved the transgender journey. The ending was especially sweet.
September 28, 2021
Easily one of my top reads for 2021, Too Bright to See is a hauntingly beautiful queer middle grade novel.
Eleven year old Bug, who lives in a haunted house, is used to sharing space with ghosts. But not long after Bug’s uncle dies, weird things start happening around Bug, like a ghost is trying to send Bug a message, and just possibly that message will help reveal the identity that has been eluding Bug for years.
First of all, this has everything I could ask for from a queer book: ghosts, complicated friendships, a drag queen, a summer of discovery, and at least one tearjerker moment. The characters have depth and life, even the ones who are deceased. Bug’s slow and sometimes painful journey throughout the book heightens the emotional impact of the ending and the joy Bug experiences.
Eleven year old Bug, who lives in a haunted house, is used to sharing space with ghosts. But not long after Bug’s uncle dies, weird things start happening around Bug, like a ghost is trying to send Bug a message, and just possibly that message will help reveal the identity that has been eluding Bug for years.
First of all, this has everything I could ask for from a queer book: ghosts, complicated friendships, a drag queen, a summer of discovery, and at least one tearjerker moment. The characters have depth and life, even the ones who are deceased. Bug’s slow and sometimes painful journey throughout the book heightens the emotional impact of the ending and the joy Bug experiences.
April 8, 2021
This is the story of Bug, an 11 year old who spends the summer being haunted as they try to figure out what their uncle's ghost is trying to tell them. Between the ghosts and the grief, is a story of identity and being yourself. With sometimes tense friendships and close family relationships, I adored this book so much. It starts off quite sad but has such a happy ending, and I couldn't have asked for anything better.
June 7, 2022
This is the book I wish I had as a teenager. This is the book that would have told me it's ok to be myself.
For parts of this story, I cried - not because I was sad, but because I saw so much of myself and my feelings reflected inside it. Never has an account of this type of subject matter made so much sense to me on a personal level.
It has given me so much food for thought and enabled me to begin embracing my journey, just as Bug embraces their journey.
Highly recommended.
For parts of this story, I cried - not because I was sad, but because I saw so much of myself and my feelings reflected inside it. Never has an account of this type of subject matter made so much sense to me on a personal level.
It has given me so much food for thought and enabled me to begin embracing my journey, just as Bug embraces their journey.
Highly recommended.
September 21, 2021
Rating: 4.75/5 stars
This was really good for a middle-grade book. Thoroughly enjoyed how the main character, Bug, has the right people around - not sure if society is this accepting in real life, but I love Bug's story nonetheless. It's a beautiful one.
Hard to make a review without spoiling anything but it's fun and heartwarming.
This was really good for a middle-grade book. Thoroughly enjoyed how the main character, Bug, has the right people around - not sure if society is this accepting in real life, but I love Bug's story nonetheless. It's a beautiful one.
Hard to make a review without spoiling anything but it's fun and heartwarming.
Read
February 6, 2024My first MG in a while. Spooky and touching and funny and weird.
January 25, 2022
“One of our cousins pulled out the old ‘he’s in a better place right now’ nonsense. As if somewhere could be better than having dinner with you, right now.”
May 6, 2022
Uh, didn't know this was gonna be as good as it was. Holy wow. Adorable gender discovery ghosty book I should have read in middle school.
July 24, 2022
3.75 stars 🌟
Narration: 3 stars 🌟
*Overdrive app *
Narration: 3 stars 🌟
*Overdrive app *
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