Can You Solve It? Book 3: A Study in Charlotte

I’ll admit it: I picked up A Study in Charlotte because it had a male narrator and I'm always on the look out for "guy's read" types of books for my classroom library. A modern-day retelling of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson set in a Connecticut boarding school told by Doctor Watson's dependent, James Watson? It had a lot of promise but also had the potential to go sideways quickly. 

Brittany Cavallaro wastes no time making her intentions clear—this is a Sherlock-and-Watson homage, and she owns it. Right there on the cover: “You’ve never seen Watson and Holmes like this before.” Right out there.

As someone who grew up watching Wishbone pay homage to Sherlock but never actually reading Conan Doyle's originals, I was intrigued. 

Charlotte Holmes proved to be absolute chaos. She’s as brilliant, infuriating, and emotionally repressed as her literary ancestor, but also entirely her own person. Jamie Watson, on the other hand, is sweet, lost, and a little rough around the edges, which—if you’ve ever taught high school—makes him painfully relatable.

That said, I struggled a bit through this one. It often felt like the mystery took a back seat to Charlotte and Jamie’s personal dynamic. It was less solve the case! and more survive your soulmate! But the thing is… by the end, it all came together. The clues were there—cleverly and quietly nestled between tense banter. The big reveal had me mentally flipping back through chapters and going, “Ohhhh. That’s what that was.”

This book surprised me. I’m still not totally sold on all the relationship dynamics, but as far as mysteries go? It’s a brainy ride that doesn’t cheat the reader.

Can You Solve It? Book 2: Truly Devious

I picked up Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson with high expectations (thanks, bookernet) and a cozy fall-vibes murder board aesthetic in mind. Boarding school in the mountains? Cold case from the 1930s? A true crime–obsessed teen sleuth with a questionable relationship to social cues? Sounds like just my jam.

And it really was everything I hoped for—clever, well-paced, full of rich atmosphere and that delightful dark-academia-meets-YA energy. Stevie Bell is a fun, flawed narrator with a sharp mind and a singular focus on solving the infamous Ellingham Academy case. The setting is extravagant, the stakes feel real, and the cold case is layered and twisty in all the right ways.

But somewhere around chapter thirty… I started to get suspicious. Not about the crime—about the structure.

A quick Google search later, and there it was: the mystery only seems to wrap up in book one. In fact, it spans the entire trilogy.

Whoops.

And while I’d love to say that didn't change things, the truth is… knowing that did change the way I viewed the end of the book. Instead of marveling at the conclusion, I found myself side-eyeing the resolution. Was this actually a solved case? Or just a very elaborate red herring disguised as closure?

Still, Truly Devious was a blast to read. The writing is sharp, the characters are memorable, and I’m excited to dive into the next two books. Johnson clearly had a plan—and I, for one, want to see where it leads.

My Accidental Mystery Reading Challenge

 I really didn’t mean to start a new reading challenge.

After wrapping up this year’s Middle and High School Battle of the Books lists (20 books, tears on a plane, and more than a few surprise favorites), I thought I was done. I even told myself I’d take a little break, read without a plan just what struck me in the moment.

But then I launched my first asynchronous Outschool class: a “Can You Solve It?” style reading experience centered on A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, which I'd read as part of my High School Battle of the Books reading—complete with student-created murder boards, timelines, theories, and red-string-worthy speculation. It was wildly fun to put together… and accidentally launched me down a rabit hole.

Next thing I knew I was reaching for Truly Devious. Then A Study in Charlotte. Now I’m making a list (and checking it obsessively, like any good detective) of mystery novels that blend a strong storyline with solvable elements, perfect for building more interactive, read-along experiences.

So here I am—officially diving into my next “accidental” reading challenge:
Can You Solve It?: Building Student Murder Boards One Myst
ery at a Time

There’s no formal list (yet), but here’s what’s already on my radar:

• ✅ A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

• ✅ Truly Devious

• ✅ A Study in Charlotte

• 🔜 Kill Her Twice

• 🔜 I Hunt Killers

• 🔜 Death on the Nile

• 🔜 At least one classic Sherlock Holmes mystery (I mean... it’s tradition)

  

Each book I read will, hopefully, turn into its own asynchronous class where students can read along, track suspects, build their own murder boards, and try to solve the mystery before the protagonist does. And if I have to read a few extra twisty, clever, fast-paced mysteries along the way? Well. I guess I’ll suffer through it.

Battle of the Books, Book 10: A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

My mom gave me A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder last summer, and I was genuinely excited to read it. But between lesson planning, grading, and last year's Battle of the Book's tower, I just didn't have the time. Fast forward to this summer’s reading challenge, and thanks to the High School Battle of the Books list, I finally had the excuse I needed to dive in.

And wow—was it worth the wait.

I’ve read a few teen detective/cold case thrillers over the past couple of years (it's become a bit of a subgenre), but A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder really stands out. The suspense was tight. The pacing sharp.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of Pip, the teen detective at the center of it all. She has no survival instinct when it comes to her suspects. If she finds a reason to suspect you, she’ll ask you point blank— no buffer, just straight-up confrontation. It was a little jarring at first, especially compared to the usual “sneak around and whisper about it later” approach I’ve seen in other YA mysteries. But honestly? It grew on me. Fast.

Because as much as Pip is bold (and sometimes questionably reckless), she’s also smart. She plans. She adapts. She thinks several moves ahead. And she isn’t afraid to admit when she gets it wrong—something I appreciated as both a reader and a teacher who’s watched a lot of teens grow through trial and error.

This one has definite appeal for mystery lovers, true crime podcast fans, and anyone who appreciates a layered, twisty story that sticks the landing. It’s sharp, fast-paced, and just the right amount of chilling.

Battle of the Books, Book 9: The Running Dream

I’m a huge fan of Wendelin Van Draanen’s Sammy Keyes series. It’s funny, sharp, and totally voice-driven—so I don’t say this lightly: I have actively kept The Running Dream off my “someday” list for years.

Why? Honestly? The back cover.

A teen track star loses her leg in an accident, has a life-changing revelation about how she’s treated others, and works hard to become a better person. That was the pitch. And it felt… predictable. Like I could already see the whole arc laid out before page one and it was not appealing.

But then The Running Dream landed on this year’s Middle School Battle of the Books list—and I was "forced" to read it, discovering along the way that the back cover summary was a drastic oversimplification of a layered, honest, and deeply human story.

Yes, Jessica loses her leg. And yes, she has to reimagine her future, although not as much as you might think. But this isn’t a story about magical transformation or redemption arcs wrapped in a neat bow. It’s a story about the hard, messy, beautiful work of growing—physically, emotionally, and socially—after your world is flipped upside down.

The cast of characters around Jessica makes this book shine. Her prosthetist is more than a background figure—he’s a person with depth. His office manager, a below-the-knee amputee herself, brings quiet strength and lived experience to the table. Even Ms. Rucker, the math teacher who tries so hard to keep her personal and professional lives separate, left an impression.

This isn’t a one-note “inspiration story.” It’s real, emotional, sometimes funny, and full of subtle moments that stay with you. It’s about seeing people—really seeing them—and learning how to let yourself be seen, too.

If this one has been lingering on your shelf like it was on mine, consider this your push.

Battle of the Books, Book 8: 15 Secrets to Survival

Going into 15 Secrets to Survival, I was fully expecting a collection of gritty, real-life survival stories. Canoes gone wrong, close encounters with bears, stranded after a plane crash and having to start a fire with wet socks and sheer willpower.

I was wrong.

What I got instead was a moderately-paced, fictional survival-ish story filled with heart, humor, and a dose of tween drama.

The back cover compares it to Hatchet with a teamwork twist—which doesn't entirely miss the target—but this story really holds its own. It feels more current, more chaotic, and a lot more relationship-driven. These kids aren’t fighting to survive in the wilderness—they’re also trying to figure out how to work together, trust each other, and maybe not drive each other completely up the wall in the process.

What makes this one stand out is the balance. There’s real tension, eventually, and high stakes, towards the end of the book, but it’s also funny. And that humor makes it feel more real because even in tough situations, people joke, bicker, and mess up. Especially kids.

By the time I finished, I wasn’t thinking about how it compared to other survival books—I was just glad it existed. It’s accessible, engaging, and perfect for middle school readers who want a survival story that also understands what it’s like to be twelve and figuring out your place in the world (while, you know, maybe trying to not get eaten by wildlife).

Highly recommend having this one on your classroom shelf.

Battle of the Books, Book 7: The Boys in the Boat

 Nonfiction and I have a bit of a rocky relationship. I want to love it—I really do—but more often than not, I find myself zoning out as I read. But Daniel James Brown surprised me—The Boys in the Boat didn’t just tell the story of the 1936 Olympic rowing team. It weaves together the story of the Olympics, the Great Depression, an impending World War and Joe Rantz. Brown moves fluidly between the high-stakes races and Joe's childhood, which was equal parts perseverance and abandonment. Rather than bogging down the pacing, the shifts between past and present actually deepened the emotional impact. Joe’s grit on the water makes so much more sense when you understand what he survived on land.

It’s not flashy. It’s not fast. But it is incredibly human—and that’s what pulled me in. Brown’s writing doesn’t just report facts; it builds a story with tension, warmth, and a quiet reverence for the young men at its center. You find yourself cheering for them long before the Olympic boat even touches the water.

 The Boys in the Boat didn’t just hold my attention; it earned my admiration. It’s a powerful reminder that the best true stories often read like fiction… you just can’t make this stuff up.