From the wardrobe that whisks us into snow-dusted Narnia, where we meet Aslan and outwit an ice-cold witch, to Charlie’s wonder-filled tour of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, these classic fantasy reads spark every child’s imagination. Add The Golden Compass, a daring tale of kids rescuing kids from adults with terrible plans, and you have stories that pulse with courage, magic, and heart.
These six books aren’t just entertaining; they invite young dreamers to explore deeper themes of friendship, bravery, and hope.
Stories are the first passports we’re handed as kids. These six books stamped my childhood with magic: wardrobes that open into snowy kingdoms, chocolate rivers that bubble with possibility, spiderweb messages that spell out friendship, and secret gardens that teach resilience.
Journeys to the end of the world, fantastic creatures, and epic battles between good and evil—what more could any reader ask for in one book? The book that has it all is The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, written in 1949 by Clive Staples Lewis. But Lewis did not stop there. Six more books followed, and together they became known as The Chronicles of Narnia.
For the past fifty years, The Chronicles of Narnia have transcended the fantasy genre to become part of the canon of classic literature. Each of the seven books is a masterpiece, drawing the reader into a land where magic meets reality, and the result is a fictional world whose scope has fascinated generations.
This beloved book by E. B. White, author of Stuart Little and The Trumpet of the Swan, is a classic of children’s literature that is “just about perfect.”
Some Pig. Humble. Radiant. These are the words in Charlotte’s Web, high up in Zuckerman’s barn. Charlotte’s spiderweb tells of her feelings for a little pig named Wilbur, who simply wants a friend. They also express the love of a girl named Fern, who saved Wilbur’s life when he was born the runt of his litter.
When Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy; perhaps it will buy his family meat for the winter. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself.
Overnight his simple life is shattered, and he is thrust into a perilous new world of destiny, magic, and power. With only an ancient sword and the advice of an old storyteller for guidance, Eragon and the fledgling dragon must navigate the dangerous terrain and dark enemies of an Empire ruled by a king whose evil knows no bounds.
Can Eragon take up the mantle of the legendary Dragon Riders? The fate of the Empire may rest in his hands.
Charlie Bucket’s wonderful adventure begins when he finds one of Mr. Willy Wonka’s precious Golden Tickets and wins a whole day inside the mysterious chocolate factory. Little does he know the surprises that are in store for him!
Can’t forget the Oompa Loompas! This book has a lot of nuances when you read it as an adult. A lot of commentary on social and economic factors, but from a childhood perspective, it has a lot to give too.
Lyra is rushing to the cold, far North, where witch clans and armored bears rule. North, where the Gobblers take the children they steal–including her friend Roger. North, where her fearsome uncle Asriel is trying to build a bridge to a parallel world.
Can one small girl make a difference in such great and terrible endeavors? This is Lyra: a savage, a schemer, a liar, and as fierce and true a champion as Roger or Asriel could want–but what Lyra doesn’t know is that to help one of them will be to betray the other.
In a house full of sadness and secrets, can young, orphaned Mary find happiness?
Mary Lennox, a spoiled, ill-tempered, and unhealthy child, comes to live with her reclusive uncle in Misselthwaite Manor on England’s Yorkshire moors after the death of her parents. There she meets a hearty housekeeper and her spirited brother, a dour gardener, a cheerful robin, and her wilful, hysterical, and sickly cousin, Master Colin, whose wails she hears echoing through the house at night.
With the help of the robin, Mary finds the door to a secret garden, neglected and hidden for years. When she decides to restore the garden in secret, the story becomes a charming journey into the places of the heart, where faith restores health, flowers refresh the spirit, and the magic of the garden, coming to life anew, brings health to Colin and happiness to Mary.
Do you remember which of your childhood fantasy reads shaped your earliest daydreams?
Theria Guild Command, Kirit — Afrotheria’s Capital
Glass screens mounted along the walls flared with brilliant-blue laser fire, illuminating the vast command dome. Officers manned support stations, responding to orders and sifting through footage for any detail that might tip the scales in the ongoing fight against the empire’s mounting threat.
“What’s the count?” Demus Kiima demanded, his voice cutting through the steady hum of data feeds.
“One hundred fifty,” came the reply from an officer stationed at a central console. “Now one forty-nine… forty-eight…”
“How far out is support?” Demus asked.
“Ten minutes, Commander,” another officer said evenly, delivering the grim news without hesitation.
Demus cursed under his breath and turned to the overhead screens, which tracked the Simba Recon Team’s progress. The ghost wraiths—a vicious breed that plagued the outskirts of Afrotheria—were racing toward Thuka Province’s villages. Demus had every available Guardian on site, but Sokwe Recon was still en-route from a training exercise in Palan Town.
“We cannot lose the barricades we’ve built in Thuka Province,” said Kiel Iram, Demus’s second in command. “They’re the only real protection for the outer lands. Yole Province and Teru are wide open. Those wraiths move too fast.”
Demus’s gaze flicked to a display of vital signs, where three Simba Recon members now registered critical. Their distress alerts pulsed like beacons of danger across the screens.
“We should have increased surveillance in Thuka,” Demus muttered. “Who else is close?”
“Teru Province has trainee auxiliaries,” Kiel said, “but Yole still depends heavily on Simba Recon.”
Two more Guardians went down. Demus stiffened.
“Report,” he barked.
“Fifteen active officers, five injured,” an officer called. “Ghost wraiths are at one hundred twenty now and accelerating.”
“Air support?” Demus asked.
“Sokwe Recon is two minutes out. We’ve launched twenty-five lightning drones from Simba Base.”
Demus folded his arms, eyes locked on the screens as a swarm of drones swept into the forest clearing. The Simba team retreated toward their stone barricade and the steel entrance to the military base. They carried the wounded on improvised stretchers, while two snipers desperately rained down bursts of blue laser fire to hold back the wraiths, a chaotic, writhing horde at the tree line.
Each time the lasers burned the wraiths’ slick, dark hides, they shrieked and spewed green blood onto the forest floor. The snipers’ shots were steady, but the team’s retreat allowed the creatures to gain ground. Five men ducked through the steel gates, hauling their fallen comrades, while three more paused at the entry to cover the snipers.
Demus exhaled in relief when the last sniper scrambled through, slamming the gates behind them. The drones hovered in perfect formation, bombarding the wraiths, who howled and clawed at the weathered stone dividing the dense forest from Thuka’s settlement.
Demus’s relief evaporated when three wraiths gouged deep grooves into the steel gates. At the sight of an opening, the rest of the pack converged, attacking the vulnerable spot.
“Activate the highest-ranked trainees from the auxiliary camp,” Demus said. “Authorize Sokwe Recon to take command of Thuka Base Ops. General Kinya can deploy the weapons from Santi Corp. Kiel, send him the codes.”
“Yes, Commander.” Kiel hurried to a nearby console to upload the codes.
Demus pressed two fingers against his eyes, recalling that the empire was set to vote the next morning. Entire families, like those in Teru and Yole, would be out in force, casting ballots. Many had no idea how close the danger truly was.
“Send a red alert to all branches of the Theria Guild,” Demus said, his tone heavy with urgency. “Include the Black Ops Protection Force. We can’t allow a ghost wraith attack to reach any village tomorrow, not when everyone is out there voting.”
He cast one final, grim look at the footage of the battered barricades and marred steel gates. He could only hope the Protector Class, with all its training and firepower, would be enough to keep this menace from carving a path straight to the empire’s most vulnerable families, families who had no idea how close the darkness lurked.
****
Dalia Taj logged into her Luna VR 1account and guided her avatar to the bustling market center. She had to track down a proprietary app from someone known as the “pink piggy,” hoping to secure the proper permissions for her latest project. KISTech2, her institute, was strict about illegal code usage. Every bit of software there needed to be documented and attributed to its original developer.
She was knee-deep in a scientific experiment that involved analyzing ghost wraith DNA, a bold effort to design a biotech weapon that might halt the creatures’ reproduction. She knew others at KISTech were on similar research paths, many far more advanced. After all, she was still a student, and her work would first count toward her class grade. Still, a girl could dream of a breakthrough that would change Afrotheria’s future by ending the ghost wraith scourge once and for all.
She smirked at the thought as she spotted the stall in the virtual marketplace. Unlike the sleek glass or polished wood of surrounding shops, this one was built with black tarp, marked only by a pink pig’s head above its entrance. Suspicious as it looked, Dalia slipped inside without hesitation.
The interior was awash in flashing lights. Customers crowded around a wooden counter, calling out orders to the two men working behind it. Pink piggy’s code shop was always busy, prized for efficient, user-friendly Luna VR accessories and plug-ins.
Dalia waved to the assistants and hurried to a bright-pink door at the back of the shop. A faint beep sounded as she touched the handle; she took out her virtual card and pressed it to the lock. Five hundred credits later, the door clicked open.
“I’d expect a grand welcome, considering how much you charge just to get back here,” Dalia said, stepping inside. She found the pink piggy seated at a desk, engrossed in constructing a virtual greenhouse. “Does it really have to cost five hundred credits for an audience with you?”
“You’re the one who needs me,” he replied, not looking up from his projected display. “Tell me, do you think women like white?”
“It depends on the occasion,” Dalia said, crossing to the chair opposite him. “Why? Are you building that greenhouse for a girl?”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. He wore his signature look—black slacks, a plain white T-shirt under a black vest, and sturdy combat boots, as though prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice. She’d never seen his face; the pink piggy head was part of his bizarre mystique. But no one could question his coding talent.
With a quick click, he switched the greenhouse color to a garish pink that made Dalia wince. Then he glanced at her avatar.
“You look stunning,” he said. It was odd how she could sense his grin behind the cartoonish pig face. “Do you keep your real-life looks here? You must be dangerous to meet in person.”
Dalia chuckled. Her avatar was indeed designed to reflect parts of her real self, but not her true face. That would be too risky, given her father’s high-profile reputation. She allowed herself the same curvy silhouette, wore a tailored coat belted at the waist, a pinstriped skirt that ended above her knees, and knee-high black boots with a four-inch heel. A gold masquerade mask concealed her features, and her braids fell long down her back. Reaching into her coat pocket, she withdrew a card.
“I need permission to use this, Pink Piggy,” she said, holding the card over the table.
He eyed her long red nails, which stood out vividly against her dark skin, and took the card. “I’d love to know what you look like offscreen.”
She shrugged. “Same goes for you.”
He shuddered. “Let’s not joke. If I show my face, half the empire will beg me for cheap plug-ins.”
“Wouldn’t that just mean more money?”
He shook his head. “It’s also about how it comes to you,” he said, his brows furrowed as he read the card. “What do you need this code for?”
“It’s for a science project,” Dalia said. “I’m willing to pay.”
“It’s not about the money.” He set the card aside, voice suddenly serious. “I registered this code in the KISTech Registry3 on a whim. I thought it might support the ghost wraith fight—”
“It can,” Dalia cut in. “I can’t give details, but I believe your logic will mesh well with my own. If we manage to refine it, we might have something worth presenting to the Theria Guild. I’ll keep the source code intact and maintain your rights when I submit—”
“It’s incomplete,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been tinkering with it for ages, but something’s missing. I guess I don’t have enough data.”
“I’m fine with an incomplete version,” Dalia insisted. “Please—”
“What will you do about the errors I haven’t accounted for? I don’t sell half-baked work, even to beautiful women.”
She jumped to her feet. “You’re insulting me. You think I’m not as talented as you? I’m not here to grovel for your source code. I only thought you posted it in the registry because you wanted someone with a similar vision. If that’s not the case, I can find another approach.”
“You have a temper,” he teased, folding his arms across his chest.
Dalia bristled, folding her own arms. She stared at the oversized pig head he wore. Could he be a fellow student at KISTech? She prided herself on knowing every top-tier coder in her year. If he was one of them, he’d done an impressive job of masking his identity.
“You must have Tech Class credentials,” he remarked. “Having the funds to open this door means you’re likely well-connected—high enough on the chain to unlock my registration profile.”
“I’ve got nothing on you, Pink Piggy,” Dalia said. “All I know is that you show up in this stall in Luna VR.”
“Frustrating, isn’t it?” he asked, chuckling.
“It is,” she admitted.
He tilted his head toward the greenhouse design. “So, about these colors—what do girls like?”
“Not that pink,” Dalia teased with a short laugh. “A light green or an earth tone suits a greenhouse better.”
“Hmm.” He adjusted the controls, and the greenhouse settled into a more tasteful pale green.
“I’ll review the code,” he said at last. “I need to see what I have on the Registry versus what’s stored in my private database. I’ll let you know.”
“How do I reach you?” she asked.
“Your five hundred credits gave me your user ID,” he said. “I’ll message you.”
“Please don’t wait too long,” she said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. She needed progress in the next three days—voting day or not. Her class mentor expected a status update right after the election.
“How long is too long?” he asked.
“Tomorrow?” she ventured.
“I’m busy tomorrow,” he said with a sigh. “The day after, maybe.”
Dalia nodded reluctantly. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said, turning to leave.
She nearly collided with another avatar wearing a comically large goat’s head. He greeted her with a loud “Meh!” that startled a laugh out of her.
“Stop scaring our esteemed customer,” the pink piggy said in mock reproach.
“She looked ready for it,” the goat-man replied.
Dalia shook her head, fighting off a second burst of laughter. “Looks like you’re building an animal farm in here.”
“Are we?” the pink piggy mused.
The goat-man chuckled, and Dalia wondered what it would be like to meet them outside of Luna VR. “See you around, Pink Piggy. And you too, He-Goat. I’d better not run into a giant chicken next.”
“See you around, Pink Piggy. And you too, He-Goat. I’d better not run into a giant chicken next.”
She left, logging out of Luna VR as soon as she stepped through the stall’s main door.
Removing her VR glasses, she set them carefully on her desk, then stretched. Her gaze drifted to the muted television across the room. The news was on, and her father’s face lit the screen as he waved to a roaring crowd in an amphitheater.
“Unmute,” Dalia said quietly.
“...Izra Taj and his running mate thank their supporters on the eve of the vote,” the reporter announced. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll know how his campaign has fared. Mr. Taj has led the Tech Class for six years, winning that office three times. He’s expected to be joined by his family when voting begins in just a few hours…”
“Mute,” Dalia said again. A knock at her door made her glance up as her mother, Amelia Taj, peeked in.
“Your father wants us all together soon,” Amelia said. “It’ll be easier for the campaign if we’re at the hotel tonight.”
“Okay,” Dalia said, feeling a pang of exhaustion. She eyed her bed, fully aware she likely wouldn’t return to it until the voting was over.
“It’ll all be done soon,” her mother added gently, as if reading her mind.
Dalia attempted a smile. When the door closed, she let out a heavy sigh. If her father won and became the new Elderon, life would not go back to normal. It would only grow more complicated. Still, she hoped KISTech would allow her to continue her research without interruption.
Heading to the shower, she could only think of one thing: the pink piggy and whether he would grant permission to use his code. She needed that puzzle piece—and she needed it fast.
Luna VR is a virtual reality platform within the Empire of Afrotheria, accessed by users through VR glasses or visors. It functions as a dynamic digital space with various purposes, from commerce to personal and social interaction. ↩︎
Kirit Institute of Science and Technology (KISTech). ↩︎
The KISTech Registry serves as a system for documenting and attributing proprietary apps and code to their original developers. KISTech has a strict policy against illegal code usage, meaning any software used within the institute needs to be properly registered and its source acknowledged ↩︎
Salt, Sunscreen, and Second Chances: Jenny Han’s Summer Trilogy
I read this trilogy for its coming-of-age heartbeat and stayed for the way it lets you sit inside Belly’s messy, sun-drenched firsts: first love, first heartbreak, first real loss, and the first steps toward independence. Belly isn’t always lovable; sometimes I wanted to shout at her choices and her naïve ideas about love (and even her mom’s decisions). But there’s an honesty to how she stumbles and learns. The result is a story that’s painful, and sometimes painfully beautiful, in the way growing up really is.
Author: Jenny Han Genre: YA contemporary romance • coming-of-age Vibes: beach house summers • love triangle • family and grief • firsts that change you Heat Level: low (YA-appropriate, closed-door)
Why it worked for me
The courage to be imperfect. Belly makes choices that can frustrate you as you read. She’s impulsive, naïve, sometimes blinded by what she wants love to be, but that’s exactly why the arc works. The trilogy doesn’t tidy her edges; it lets her be wrong, learn, and try again. Watching her move from wanting to be seen to learning how to see herself, her family, and the boys who matter makes the story worth it.
Firsts, rendered with honesty. The series nails the visceral feel of firsts: the dizzy high of being truly noticed, that painful moment of a first heartbreak, the ache of losing a second-mother figure, the strangeness of preparing for college when home still needs you. None of it is melodrama; it’s every day life. Even when the situationships hurt, it feels earned.
Family as an anchor. Mothers, sons, divorce, illness, tradition, each of these family dynamics tug at every decision. The beach house isn’t just a setting; it’s a memory bank where love and grief live. That family bond anchored so deep at Cousins Beach gives the romance stakes and situates Belly’s choices within a wider web of loyalties.
Summer as a structure. By returning to Cousins Beach year after year, the books show how time changes everything. How the same porch light can look different once you’ve been broken and rebuilt. The seasonal rhythm becomes a mirror for Belly’s growth. Each year, Belly’s experiences in life give Cousins Beach a new meaning.
Favorite Quote
“Sometimes it’s like people are a million times more beautiful to you in your mind. It’s like you see them through a special lens—but maybe if it’s how you see them, that’s how they really are.” ― Jenny Han, The Summer I Turned Pretty
Read if you enjoy
Coming-of-age romance that feels lived-in, not polished
Love triangle dynamics with emotional consequences
Family-centered stories where mothers matter
Beach-town nostalgia threaded with grief and hope
Content notes
Grief/illness (loss of a parental figure), underage drinking, heated arguments, breakup/make-up cycles, love-triangle jealousy.
Your turn
Which coming-of-age heroine frustrated you at times, but still had you rooting for her by the end? And what’s your favorite beach-set YA romance?
“Afrotheria is an empire of diverse peoples, flourishing at the horn of the Afro Continent. Our economy has grown quickly, partly because of our relentless quest to rid the empire of the ghost hound menace, and partly due to our abundant natural resources and the fierce dedication of the Science and Technology Class. Now, can anyone tell me why our people are divided into classes?”
Zev sat at a desk in the back of the classroom, half listening to Miss Leya as he fiddled with his drawing tablet. He scowled at the screen, which refused to render his schematics the way he wanted and realized with a deepening sigh that a visit to the Upgrade Center was inevitable.
A sudden pinch on his right thigh made him hiss under his breath. His best friend, Waweru—whom everyone called Weru—arched an eyebrow in warning. Zev ignored him, still mentally tallying the shillings in his wallet. He had two thousand left after his last job at the Village Center, but he had promised his little sister five hundred for her upcoming Conservation Center trip and her beloved plant purchases. That left him with only fifteen hundred, and a tablet upgrade cost four thousand. Another part-time job was in his immediate future.
“Zev Mablevi!”
He jolted upright, looking up from the tablet to find his classmates staring at him with various degrees of amusement.
Zev exhaled, set his tablet on the desk, and stood. He tried for a disarming smile when he saw Miss Leya’s disapproving look.
“Miss Leya,” he said, clearing his throat.
Miss Leya, their History and Civics teacher, was known for her passionate approach. She expected her students to care about the subject as deeply as she did, a feeling Zev could never quite muster. He found the class dull, though he grudgingly accepted its necessity for his tech certification. It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics.
It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics
Zev Mablevi, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
“Zev,” Miss Leya said, folding her arms, “what are you doing in my class?”
She rocked on her heels, her braids swaying in a ponytail perched neatly on top of her head. Zev bit his bottom lip, suspecting there was no answer that would satisfy her.
“I suspect you’ve been more interested in the tablet on your desk than in my lesson,” Miss Leya said, her frown deepening. “You might be the top student here, but that doesn’t give you license to ignore my lecture. Please answer my question.”
Zev glanced at Weru for help, but his friend only shrugged. Zev stifled a groan. The last he remembered, she was talking about Afrotheria’s Classes.
“Um, Afrotheria has nine classes,” he said, plunging in. “They’re Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion.”
Laughter broke out. Zev saw Miss Leya’s frown deepen further.
“That’s thorough,” she said, “but it tells me you haven’t been listening. Read the question on the overhead, Mablevi.”
Zev scratched his head, then looked at the glass panel on the front wall. It displayed an image of the Registarion Building in the capital city, Kirit.
“Why does the Empire of Afrotheria vote in a new Sable Council to work with the head of the Registarion every four years?” Miss Leya asked.
Zev grimaced at Weru, who swallowed a laugh. Resigning himself to Miss Leya’s interrogation, Zev cleared his throat and focused on the prompt.
“We, the people of Afrotheria, vote in a new Sable Council every four years to encourage growth and development,” he said. “Our greatest hope is to finally rid ourselves of the ghost hound scourge.”
“Who is the head of the Registarion?” Miss Leya prompted.
“That would be the Elderon1, who has a second in command called the Chancellor,” Zev answered. “He leads the Sable Council and manages the Registarion2 for the people.”
“And what is the Registarion’s main role?”
“They assist the eight representatives on the Sable Council3,” Zev said. “They make sure the different classes have the resources they need. The Elderon also casts the deciding vote when the Sable Council is at a stalemate.”
“Where are those eight representatives selected from?”
“They’re each voted in from the nine classes,” Zev said. “They tend to be the top minds in their respective fields. For instance, the technology representative is Vin Saha, the inventor of the helmet used by the Protector Class in its fight against the ghost wraiths.”
“And why is the Sable Council so important that it sometimes needs that deciding vote from the Elderon?” Miss Leya asked.
Zev paused, wondering how to answer this question. The Sable Council was important, but it was also filled with politics and power fights. He could never quite fathom why their energy wasn’t wholly spent on helping the people—and dealing with the ghost wraiths.
“Well,” he said carefully, “the Sable Council is supposed to be the collective voice of each class, working to allocate funding and manage crises, especially keeping villages safe from ghost wraiths. When they can’t agree, the Elderon’s vote breaks the tie.”
Seemingly satisfied, Miss Leya changed the overhead image to a familiar “Vote Now” sticker.
“You know your Civics, Zev,” she said, “even if you’d rather play with that tablet than pay attention. We have four weeks together before you move on to your beloved Tech Courses. One day, perhaps you’ll see the importance of these lessons. Now, are you going to vote tomorrow? You’re seventeen, aren’t you?”
Zev shook his head. “No, Miss Leya.”
Her eyes widened as though he’d confessed a great sin. “And why not? It is your civic duty to vote, Zev Mablevi. Don’t you want progress for your village?”
“I’m actually working at the Village Center tomorrow,” Zev explained. “I’ll be assisting with the voting process, so I’m not eligible to cast a ballot myself.”
Miss Leya brightened. “Well, that’s admirable. What an experience you’ll have. Very good, Mablevi. Sit down.”
Zev sank back into his seat, exchanging a sheepish grin with Weru.
“Pay attention,” Miss Leya warned. “I’d hate to penalize our top student for fussing with a tablet.”
Sliding his tablet into his bag, Zev pulled out a notebook and sat up straighter. Miss Leya continued.
“Zev has already given most of the answers I’d planned to ask about our governing system. I’ll only add that the Elderon and Chancellor are a pair. Both earn their positions through the people’s vote. Thus, when there’s a stalemate, the Elderon’s vote ultimately reflects the empire’s majority opinion, but not necessarily the entire empire’s. Which leads to an important question: what about those who did not vote for the current Elderon or Chancellor? Weru, care to tell us?”
Weru stood, clearly reluctant. “They have the minority leader?” he ventured.
“Exactly,” Miss Leya said. “The minority leader forms a sort of ‘silent branch’ called the Opposition. His role is to monitor the Sable Council and raise concerns on behalf of those who did not vote for the Elderon or Chancellor. This ensures accountability. It’s not a perfect system, but it keeps Afrotheria relatively stable. Some of you will one day work in the Registarion. I hope you’ll fight for progress, both in government and in our ongoing struggle against the ghost wraiths. We all must face that darkness together to protect our homeland. I’m sure you’ll surprise us all with changes and improvements in the future.”
She picked up a stack of forms from her desk and held them up. “We’ve reached the end of class. Before I dismiss you, pay attention to this.”
Miss Leya stepped between the rows, handing each student a form. “You’re all at the end of your semester here in our small village academy, eighteen years old, or for some close to eighteen, and just three weeks from senior high graduation. You should know your grades by now.”
The classroom filled with chatter and a few groans. Zev glanced at Weru, knowing his friend had middling grades but plenty of potential. The main pressure on Weru came from his father, who desperately wanted him to enroll in Kistech, the prestigious Kirit Institute of Science and Technology. Kistech researchers worked closely with the Protector Class, helping develop tech to defeat ghost wraiths.
Weru wasn’t so sure he wanted that life. Teru Province, quiet and peaceful, offered its own kind of security, a world away from the bustle of Kirit.
Miss Leya cleared her throat. “This form is critical. It’s an application to change the class you selected at sixteen. After graduation, shifting classes will be incredibly difficult. I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy. The Science and Technology Class is elite but mentally consuming and demanding. If you don’t genuinely love research, design, and coding, you could end up maintaining basic tech for companies, households, stuck doing grunt work in labs. I’m not trying to frighten you,” she added, her voice softer, “only to prepare you.”
I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy
Miss Leya, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
Reaching Zev’s row, she handed Weru a form and turned to Zev with a teasing grin. “Of course, we expect top students like Zev to stay in Science and Tech. Who knows, he might invent the ultimate ghost hound–banishing weapon.”
Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.
Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.
Miss Leya finished distributing the forms and returned to the front. “You don’t have to submit this form immediately. We have two days off for the vote and all the related activities. I want each of you to really think about what you want for your future. If you realize you’re in the wrong place, talk to me and I’ll do what I can to help. All right?”
Murmurs ran through the class. Zev slipped his form into his backpack. He nudged Weru.
“You could fill this out and switch classes,” he whispered.
Weru shuddered. “My dad would kill me.”
“You’re eighteen,” Zev reminded him. “You should be free to do what makes you happy.”
“I can just imagine me telling Baba I want to move to the Construction and Works Class. He’ll have a heart attack,” Weru said with a sigh.
“Try asking your mom for help,” Zev said.
Waweru gripped his own tablet tight and shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he said, folding the form from Miss Leya, and slipping it into his shirt pocket.
At the front of the room, Miss Leya rapped a knuckle against her desk to get their attention.
“The credit belongs—” she began.
“—to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again,” Zev and his classmates chorused, finishing her favorite quote.
This credit belongs to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again.
Theodore Roosevelt, 1910
“Now,” Miss Leya continued, “review the last two chapters in your history texts. We’ll have a quiz when you return. Zev, I’ll expect a full account of your time assisting at the Village Center. Class dismissed. Waweru, please come see me.”
Zev patted Weru’s shoulder. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder, he said, “Meet me in the Luna VR at nine tonight. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Sure. I’ll message you before I log in,” Weru said, gathering his books as he trudged toward Miss Leya’s desk.
Outside the classroom, Zev found his little sister, Amare, waiting for him with a clear ziplock bag of sugarcane strips. She grinned, handing him the sugarcane bag, and he took her schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder with his.
“Are you working tomorrow?” she asked as they headed to the school’s front gate.
“Yes,” Zev said.
“Oh,” Amare said. “I was hoping you could help babysit our brothers.”
“I need money for my tablet upgrade,” Zev said, biting into a piece of sugarcane. “Don’t forget. You’re going to the Conservation Garden, remember? I promised you five hundred shillings for the berry plants you’ve been eyeing.”
“Zev, you don’t have to give me your money,” Amare protested. “I was going to earn a little cash by braiding Mom Ava’s hair.”
“You hate doing hair,” Zev teased. “Don’t force yourself.”
Amare chuckled. “Fine. But if you insist on covering my costs, then I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow. The brothers and I can hang back until Mom and Dad finish at the lab, and we’ll all head home together.”
Zev’s eyes lit up. “Fried potatoes and beef stew?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking orders.”
“Or chapos and beef stew,” Zev persisted. “Or maybe pilau and beef stew. Actually, all three with beef stew would be perfect.”
They shared a laugh. Walking side by side down the quiet village road, they basked in the midday sun and the easy companionship of home. The ghost wraiths might threaten distant provinces, but here in Teru—at least for the moment—life was sweet and calm.
And as Zev knew all too well, moments of peace could be fleeting. Everyone in Afrotheria, even here in sleepy Teru, would eventually need to stand together against the darkness for the greater good.
Elderon – The head of the Sable Council, leader of the Empire of Afrotheria. Voted in by the people with his Chancellor. ↩︎
Registarion – the place where the Elderon works, sort of like Parliament, or an Emperor’s court. ↩︎
Sable Council – A council that represents the nine classes of the Empire of Afrotheria. These classes are divided according to skill. They are: Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion. ↩︎
Njaro Mountain rumbled with a deep, earth-shaking roar that struck fear into every living soul. Dark billows of smoke swelled over its peak, thicker than the heaviest rain clouds, and rushed down the slopes as if guided by a malevolent force.
Within minutes, wildlife erupted from the forests encircling the mountain. Men, women, and children in nearby villages felt their courage evaporate. After all, when lions flee, what choice does a person have but to run?
Within the hour, seething red lava burst from Njaro’s core. Scalding and furious—hotter than any hell humankind can imagine—it poured down in rivers of molten fire, annihilating all in its path. Neither ancient trees nor birds, insects, or the last frantic animals escaped. Certainly, no human who remained, praying for divine deliverance, survived its touch.
When at last the flow cooled, it left behind a silent expanse of devastation stretching a hundred miles. Yet out of those hardened vents crawled a calamity even worse than the lava. In a violent twist of nature, new creatures emerged; what the people of Afrotheria would come to call ghost wraiths. These massive, dark beasts sported oily black hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite.
Thus, began a new era in the Empire of Afrotheria1, one overshadowed by the menace of the ghost wraiths2.
Empire of Afrotheria – A fictitious empire found in the horn of Africa with high-tech capabilities. It is the setting of the story Theria Guild Guardian: Code & Courage. ↩︎
Ghost Wraiths – Massive, dark beasts with oily dark hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite. ↩︎
The Veiled Investment is a book that highlights the many cultural changes from 1945 to the present, encompassing the different generations. The information about these effects may not appear in history, but is told as stories. During our time, it was obligations and responsibilities; now, it is about rights and entitlements.
Why She Calls Herself the Veiled Investment:
In Felicita Churie’s community, a girl’s price was tallied in cows, not dreams. Eight decades later, that “veiled investment” has yielded returns no dowry could measure.
She outruns an arranged marriage, wins a British Scholarship, teaches a generation of girls and boys, and—when her son’s life hangs in the balance—gives him her kidney. The child earmarked for dowry becomes a teacher, scholar, commissioner, kidney donor, and grief-tempered advocate. Each milestone proves her grandmother’s quiet prophecy true: a woman’s worth is compounded in resilience and service, not cattle or coin.
Her life proves that the “investment” everyone else once claimed is, in truth, her own: education, faith, and an iron-clad will to keep going when tragedy strikes.
The Veiled Investment is both a ledger and a love letter to women whose quiet labour bankrolls families and nations. It is Felicita’s luminous memoir of classrooms and hospital corridors, showing how one determined woman turns every setback into capital for those she loves.
“I’m a member of the Silent Generation,” Felicita writes, “and my story is about my determination, resilience, wisdom, hard work, and independence—all rooted in my cultural background and the times in which I have lived.”
And what times! The Veiled Investment paints a colorful tapestry of a woman who has walked step by step through eight decades of change. As I read her story, admiring her determination to attend school in a world where girls were not expected to, I realized that we, the children of the current times, often take such privileges for granted. In contrast, the Silent Generation fought for these opportunities, sought them out, and turned them into the norm.
Felicita tells the story of a girl once viewed merely as a source of dowry, who transformed that expectation into an extraordinary life for herself and her family.
In The Veiled Investment, Felicita demonstrates the value of the priceless, silent labor a woman gives to her family and those she loves.
Our grandmothers and mothers of the Silent Generation hold remarkable stories that show us where we have come from. Felicita recalls asking her husband to sign her passport application so the government would know he had given his permission for her to travel. I marveled that I can now walk into a passport office as freely as I please and sign my own application. I promised her I would never take that privilege for granted again.
I thank women like Felicita, who lived the struggle so that we might dare to take these privileges for granted. It falls to us, to every reader, to guard those hard-won rights and extend them to those who come after us.
Question: Hi Elly, any information on book publishing costs and ROI? Drafting my first book. Wondering what's the cost of editing, book cover for a single title, for the Kenyan authors that publish. And do they really make their money back?
This message landed in my inbox in November 2024, and I’ve been staring at it for months. I didn’t answer it then because I was in the middle of printing and figuring out where to sell books. We are now in April 2025. I finally feel like I can answer this question. I have not offered numbers on the marketing side. It is an ongoing process at the moment.
So, it’s easy to put out the blanket ‘yes‘ to ‘Do they really make their money back?’ and call it at that, but there are variations. Yes is not an easy answer.
Fact 1: I might have talked about self-publishing books for a decade, but I’m also a newly published apprentice this year. I’ve focused on publishing ebooks on Kindle and Smashwords/Draft2Digital.The cost here includes: editing, book formatting, book cover origination, and marketing.
This year is the first time I have a printed book in a Kenyan bookshop. I am now learning on the job ^_^. The costs here include: editing, book formatting, book cover, ISBN, Printing, delivery, platform charges, and marketing. (Right now, I feel that Physical Books need so much more marketing than an eBook.)
I’m always willing to share experiences. So, let’s jump into answering this question in 2025.
What is the ‘cost of editing, book cover for a single title?’
Editing Costs in Kenya – A new author can seek an independent editor or a publishing company/business with an editing service. Editing is charged per word. Depending on an editor’s price list, the cost ranges from 0.35 cents to Kshs. 1.45 up to Kshs. 2.40 per word.
To Note: Your manuscript word count determines the cost of the edit as each word is charged. The cost will vary on whether my words are 10,000 words, or 100,000. That is, a 10,000-word manuscript being charged 1.45 will cost, Kshs. 14,500. While the 100,000-word manuscript will cost, Kshs. 145,000.
It is also important to note that the quality of the edit matters. What kind of edit are you looking for? A Comprehensive edit? A copy edit? A line edit? Someone to help you write your book from start to finish?
I will be honest. The editing process is the most time-consuming part of the self-publishing journey. It also does not end. You can print a book and find a very obvious problem on the second page that did not register the ten times you and everyone you know read through. The mortification is always super nuts. I'm still learning how to let that feeling go, and hope to do better in the next run. I find that it helps to find an editor who can help you through this process easily, and without breaking the bank account, and is amazing at proofreading.
I hope I have covered the editing and book cover costs in Kenya.
Now, to the ‘Do they really make their money back?’ part of the question.
Yes, authors in Kenya do make their money back. But, how fast the author gets their return on investment depends on the next factors.
Industry | Genre – Your book topic is essential to your sales. Books targeting particular industries like bakers in the baking industry, clothes designers, bead making, faith-based narratives, academics or investing in real estate, accounting, among others are specific to the industry. So, the authors of these books make sure their target audience is interested in these topics and that is who they market to. Industry books tend to reach their target audience faster. If your book genre is fiction, specify which fiction genre your book is in, that is, mystery, romance, thriller, horror, fantasy, literature. We don’t all read the same type of fiction. Authors in the fiction genre target specific genre readers for sales. Figure out where your fiction stands in the genre section.
An Author’s Social Currency – A biography written by a well-known individual, for example, a politician or celebrity will sell faster than one written by a modest member of society. The politician or celebrity leans on their social currency to get buys, while the modest member of society has to work harder and market more aggressively to gain the same attention.
Marketing – Industry | Genre and Social Currency contribute to your marketing strategy. Once you know who your readers are, and your ability to reach them, work at seeking them out in their spaces, their industries, and interests. For a new writer, it is essential to use marketing to grow your social currency. Reach for and find readers on social media like Tiktok /Instagram/Pinterest/Facebook/the Fediverse / among many others. Visit and connect with groups and communities that will or may have interest in your books. Marketing is a continuous process. Don’t give up in the middle, and if you feel you are having a hard time doing the marketing yourself, seek help from someone you trust who does know how to market.
Book printing is a business. When you get into it, understand the concept of costs, expenses and profit margins. Your costs include:
Marketing – FB Ads/ Amazon Ads/ Tiktok Ads/ Any other marketing costs you choose.
Delivering your product to your customers.
Platform expenses. For example, if you sell your book through Jumia, Jumia takes a percentage from the sale, they are called selling fees. You also need to get the book to their vending stations, which is also a cost to you.
There maybe other hidden costs that are relevant to you as an author. You should track all these amounts so that you can price your book correctly to make back your investment. At the same time, be sensitive to the current market’s trends(inflation and current economy stress) and make the retail price of your printed book affordable for your targeted audience.
If you hit the sweet spot with all these costs and expenses, you will make your money.
Finding a balance
As an author getting started in this industry, the first thing to manage is your doubt. Let me kill that doubt for you right now. Yes, it is possible to print your book. There is no doubt. The work you need to do is finish the manuscript. Get through it to the last page.
Then, edit it. Get your bestie to read it. Get more than your bestie to read it. Once you have feedback, fix what needs help, then find an editor. Edit the content.
Then, format your book into the size you prefer. Discover more about book sizes. Once this is finished make a pdf document.
Create a book cover that fits your manuscript’s content.
Once you have a book cover and a completed pdf document, you can get your copyright at the Kenya Copyright Board website. Buy an ISBN which goes on the back of your cover.
Find a printer. At this stage, make sure the printer can keep your printing costs relatively similar as you print on demand, this way, you can keep your retail price intact. If you are able or can afford it, approach an offset printer for a large consignment of your book. The offset printer guarantees availability.
Once your book is printed, market it. Don’t get tired.
Get started on writing your next book.
As a self-publishing author I often need to find a balance between marketing one book while writing the next one, figuring out the printer’s costs and where to sell books, and the logistics of deliveries. In between all this, I may get a review that throws me out of focus. So, the only way to get through it is to focus on my goals. Ask yourself, what do you want out of this very personal exercise?
I spend my time selling eBooks. But this year I’m learning how to sell printed books. The doubts are in full swing, and I have to hit them with a bat daily. I’ll share more on the process at the end of the year. Hopefully ^_^.
The long and short of it is, Finish your book, get it out there. Experience the publishing process, it is the only way to know if you’ll make back your investment. The more you do it, the better you get with the process. Go for it! The world needs your story. Always!
***
Save My Heart Leila Karani fell in love, thinking it was forever. When she got pregnant, she went to see her boyfriend, Nathan Njeru, thinking he would support her and their baby, but she was wrong.
March is on its last week, but every time this month rolls by, I can’t help thinking about the Ides of March. ^_^ I just cannot help sharing why this phrase is stuck in my head. hehehe. Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Julius Caesar is forever in the mind:
Soothsayer: “Beware the Ides of March.” Caesar: “Who’s that man?” Brutus: “He’s a soothsayer warning you about the Ides of March.” Caesar: “Bring him here; I want to see his face.” Cassius: “Hey, come out of the crowd and look at Caesar.” Caesar: “What are you telling me now? Speak again.” Soothsayer: “Beware the Ides of March.” Caesar: “He’s just a dreamer. Let’s ignore him. Move on.”
Would things have turned out different had he listened to the soothsayer? We’ll never know. But, the Ides of March remains stuck on the mind, which is March 15th on our calendar.
Moving on, March Reading Vibes are very dramatic and thrilling, like Caesar’s situation.
On the rugged West Coast of New Zealand, Golden Cove is more than just a town where people live. The adults are more than neighbors; the children, more than schoolmates.
That is until one fateful summer—and several vanished bodies—shatters the trust holding Golden Cove together. All that’s left are whispers behind closed doors, broken friendships, and a silent agreement not to look back. But they can’t run from the past forever.
Eight years later, a beautiful young woman disappears without a trace, and the residents of Golden Cove wonder if their home shelters something far more dangerous than an unforgiving landscape.
It’s not long before the dark past collides with the haunting present and deadly secrets come to light.
At a Texas county fair, amidst carousels and a bustling midway, children’s book author Elle Portman is enjoying a rare night out with her favorite her two-year-old son, Charlie. But just as they’re about to head home, the unthinkable a shooter opens fire into the crowd, causing widespread panic to erupt all around them.
Also caught in the melee was corporate consultant Calder Hudson. Arrogant, self-centered, and high off his latest career win, he’s frustrated and confused when he wakes up in the hospital after undergoing emergency surgery on his arm. The doctor tells him that he was lucky—that as far as gunshot wounds go, he pulled through remarkably well. Others weren’t so lucky, which instills in Calder a furious determination to get justice . . . a goal shared by Elle.
Their chance encounter at the police station leads to a surprising and inexplicable gravitation to one another, but even as the attraction grows, Elle and Calder can’t help but wonder if the unimaginable tragedy that brought them together is too painful and too complicated to sustain—especially while the shooter remains at large.
Simon and Vicky couldn’t seem more a wealthy Chicago couple with a stable, if unexciting, marriage. But with these two… absolutely nothing is what it seems. When a beautiful socialite is found hanging in a mansion in a nearby suburb, Simon and Vicky’s complex web of secrets begins to unravel.
A whirlwind affair. A twenty-million-dollar trust fund about to come due. A decades-long grudge and an obsession with revenge. Both Vicky and Simon are liars–but just who exactly is conning who? Prepare to question everything you think you know in this wickedly clever novel of greed, revenge, obsession–and quite possibly the perfect murder.
This here is a book recommendation from a friend. I’ve been sitting on the edge of my seat getting through this one. Very great recommend. I love when it just clicks.
I hope your March 2025 is filled with wonderful, amazing things.
THE GREAT DETECTIVE OF THE INNER PALACE IS BORN…?!
Maomao, a young woman trained in the art of herbal medicine, is forced to work as a lowly servant in the inner palace. Though she yearns for life outside its perfumed halls, she isn’t long for a life of drudgery! Using her wits to break a “curse” afflicting the imperial heirs, Maomao attracts the attentions of the beautiful Jinshi and is promoted to attendant food taster. But Jinshi has other plans for the erstwhile apothecary, and soon Maomao is back to brewing potions and…solving mysteries?!
I’m totally in love with this manga! It’s so much fun to read, and a great watch if you prefer Anime. I recommend it! Maomao is so much fun!
KEEP YOUR HANDMAIDENS CLOSE, AND YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER
Every time Rishe turns twenty, she dies and is reincarnated to the day her engagement is broken off. This time around, she winds up the fiancee of the man who killed her in her previous life: the crown prince of the Galkhein Empire, Arnold! Knowing from her past lives that Galkhein is on the path to war, Rishe is determined to prevent it. She starts by turning the royal villa into a training ground…for handmaidens! Will her unorthodox plans be enough to keep disaster at bay?
I love this one for Rishe’s openminded attitude, and her can-do policy. She knows her limits, and her strengths, and brings her ideas to life. This is a story to push your imagination. I still recommend it. February was a month full of manga volumes. So much life here.
Stories and Book Talk 