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.

My Summer Reading Challenge: Battle of the Books Edition

Every summer since I made the switch to teaching middle and high school, I’ve taken on a surprisingly rewarding challenge: read every single book on both the middle school and high school Alaska Battle of the Books lists before school starts again.

Yes, it’s a lot of reading. Yes, I bring a tower of books with me on every ferry ride and weekend trip. And yes, the Homer Bookstore staff can recognize me on sight. (I regret nothing.)

 

This tradition started as a way to keep up with what my students are reading—and to give me a nudge out of my usual reading comfort zone. Battle of the Books titles are a mix of genres, styles, and perspectives I might not reach for on my own. But every year, I’m reminded how powerful it is to read what my students are reading. It gives me concrete ways to connect with them, recommend books they'll actually enjoy, and build a classroom reading culture that feels fresh and relevant, even when I taught high school math.

Plus, when a student shrugs and says, “I don’t know what to read,” I love being able to slide a book across the table and say, “Try this. I just read it. I think it might be your kind of story.”

So here we go again. Two fresh stacks of books, one determined teacher, and a whole summer to read. Let the reading begin.

Battle of the Books, Book 6: Rez Ball

Rez Ball by Byron Graves was’t just a great read—it’s the kind of book that hit me where I live, a place where the gym lights burn brighter than the streetlights and the whole town shows up on game night.

Set in a small Native American community, Rez Ball captures the intensity of high school basketball culture with razor-sharp precision. The pressure, the pride, the rivalries—it’s all there. But what really stuck with me was how Graves layered that world with unflinching honesty. He doesn’t shy away from the hard stuff: racism, alcoholism, grief, and the weight young people carry when they’re planning their future.

Tre’s journey isn’t tidy. It’s raw, real, and sometimes uncomfortable—but it’s also filled with heart, hope, and a deep love for both family and the game.

Graves nailed that basketball-obsessed town dynamic. The stakes feel impossibly high when the whole town is watching, and this book captures that tension in a way that’s totally relatable—even if you’ve never worn a jersey.

Rez Ball isn’t just a sports story. It’s a story about identity, community, and resilience. And it’s one I’m so happy to have in my classroom and possibly inspire me to create a sports lit ELA class.

Battle of the Books, Book 5: Cinder

Cinder by Marissa Meyer—book five in my Battle of the Books reading challenge—definitely delivered on the “sci-fi fairy tale with a twist” promise: Cinderella as a cyborg, living in a plague-ridden futuristic world with political intrigue and psychic moon people.

It’s clear from the start that Cinder is the opening move in a much bigger chess game. The characters are interesting (Cinder herself is smart, scrappy, and sarcastic in the best way), and the worldbuilding is rich and imaginative. That said, you can definitely tell it’s setting the stage for something larger. Some storylines felt like they were just getting warmed up when the book ended, and a few characters seemed to stroll onstage only to wave politely and disappear until, presumably, book two or three.

Which is fine—as long as you have the rest of the series handy.

Thankfully, I already had the rest of the series on order to go in my classroom library. However, I won't be digging into it until I finish the remaining 15 battle of the books titles.

So, if you're planning to read Cinder do yourself a favor and line up the next few books ahead of time. It’s the kind of story that hooks you early and then dares you to keep up. Just don’t expect all the threads to tie up neatly at the end of book one. That’s not the kind of fairy tale this is.

Battle of the Books, Book 4: A Wrinkle in Time

This was another nostalgic pick for me—A Wrinkle in Time was on my Battle of the Books list back when I was in middle school. I remembered loving the concept: strange cosmic beings, time travel, a tesseract (which still sounds cooler than most actual science words). But I didn't go into this reread expecting a warm reunion with an old favorite.

The concept? Still great. The themes? Still powerful. I love a good underdog-saves-the-universe story, especially when it features a brainy, caring girl like Meg. But the prose? That’s where I struggled. For whatever reason, the writing just didn’t pull me in—not now, and honestly, not back then either. It’s not that it’s bad, but something about the tone and pacing kept me at arm’s length. Like I wanted to love it, but it just wasn't happening.

That said, I can see why A Wrinkle in Time has earned its place as a classic. It’s imaginative, ambitious, and it gives middle school readers something big to chew on, and that’s no small thing.

So while this one doesn't quite hold the magic for me, I’m still glad I gave it another shot. Not every reread has to be a home run—but they all help me better understand the kinds of stories that do resonate with my students. And that’s kind of the point of this whole reading challenge anyway.

Battle of the Books, Book 3: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

 This one was a nostalgic reread for me. I first tackled The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy back in high school when I was competing in Battle of the Books. I remember liking it, but I also remember thinking, “Wait… what just happened,” a lot while reading it.

Fast forward a couple decades, and now it’s back on the 2025–2026 high school Battle list. Naturally, I was ready to give it another go. And wow—turns out understanding the jokes makes the book a lot funnier. Who knew?

This time around, I caught the layers. The dry British wit. The delightfully absurd tangents. The way Douglas Adams somehow turns space travel, philosophy, and bureaucracy into a chaotic masterpiece of satire. I mean, it’s still weird. That part hasn’t changed. But now the weird feels intentional—and kind of brilliant.

As someone who regularly reminds students to keep track of their folders and textbooks, I feel strangely seen by a galaxy where even the most advanced civilizations still can’t quite get their paperwork in order.

If you read Hitchhiker’s Guide in high school and felt confused or if you’ve never read it at all I highly recommend it.

Battle of the Books, Book 2: Charlie Thorne and the Last Equation

Confession time: Charlie Thorne and the Last Equation has been sitting on my classroom bookshelf since it was published in 2019. It’s even been recommended to me by students. Multiple times. And yet... I never picked it up. Not because I don’t love Stuart Gibbs (I do—big fan of the Moon Base Alpha and FunJungle series), but because something about this one felt like a harder sell. Maybe it was the title. Maybe it was the Einstein angle. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to commit to another series at the time.

But then it landed on the 2025–2026 Middle School Battle of the Books list, and I had no more excuses.

But Stuart Gibbs did not disappoint.

Charlie Thorne is kind of ridiculously brilliant—code-breaking, mountain-climbing, equation-solving levels of brilliant—but what I appreciated most was that Gibbs never let her feel like a superhero. She’s still a kid. A very skilled, very smart kid, sure—but her impulsiveness, her inexperience, and her emotions show through in ways that keep her real and relatable. She messes up. She learns. And you’re rooting for her the whole time.

Also, as a math teacher? The math component made me way happier than it probably should’ve. There’s something so satisfying about seeing actual mathematical ideas woven into a fast-paced adventure plot without it feeling forced or preachy. It’s clever, engaging, and honestly kind of inspiring.

So yeah—I finally read the book that’s been quietly judging me from my classroom shelf for the last five years. And it turns out, my students were right. It’s a great read.

Battle of the Books Challenge: Two Old Women

Since I'll be taking college classes to get my masters in teaching high school mathematics over the summer, I kicked off my 2025–2026 Battle of the Books reading challenge earlier than usual this year with a familiar favorite: Two Old Women by Velma Wallis. It’s been over two decades since I last read it, but diving back in felt like revisiting a well-worn trail—still sharp, still stunning, and still just as powerful as I remembered.

If you're not familiar, Two Old Women is an Alaska legend retold—It’s the kind of story that sticks with you—not because it’s flashy or dramatic, but because it quietly knocks the wind out of you. Two elderly women are left behind by their tribe during a brutal winter (which, let’s be honest, is a pretty solid reason to hold a grudge), and instead of giving up, they decide... nope, not today. They rely on what they remember, what they’ve learned, and a stubborn streak a mile wide to make it through. It hits that sweet spot of being both deeply Alaskan and universally resonant.

That said, I forgot just how quickly the story wraps up. I found myself wishing Wallis had lingered just a little longer—maybe given us a few more chapters about the women after their summer harvest. What did they do with their second chance? How did they shape the community that once left them behind? Honestly, I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Still, that might be part of the book’s magic. It leaves you wanting more. It reminds us that strength doesn't always look the way we expect it to, and that quiet stories can carry loud truths.

Also — I read this one with a scoop of salted caramel gelato. Highly recommend.