There are probably very few of you who remember me gushing about Arthur Levine after he spoke to my class at Columbia Publishing Course. (Quick reminder: Arthur Levine is the American editor of J.K. Rowling.) In my post, I recounted his wit and humor, and admitted that after he spoke, I “sulked back to my dorm room to write him gushy thank you letter on my bunny stationary.”

Six weeks ago, I received an email from Cheryl Klein, Arthur Levin’s assistant. She noted that she’d read my blog off and on “ever since you sent a very kind [read as: embarrassingly over-the-top] card to Arthur after his speech at the Columbia Publishing Course.” She was writing to let me know that they’d just published a new young adult fiction book, and could she send me a copy?

Ever one to oblige someone sending me a freebie, I emailed her my mailing address, and a couple weeks ago I got my very own copy of The Slightly True Story of Cedar B. Hartley: (Who Planned to Live an Unusual Life).

The first novel from Martine Murray, an Australian writer, illustrator, and acrobat, The Slightly True Story of Cedar B. Hartley follows around a 12-year-old Aussie tomboy with red hair and a great personality. Cedar is one of those gregarious almost-teenage girls we all wish we could have been, one who observes the world with a keen eye and open heart, and has her head squarely on her shoulders. She lives with her widowed hippy mother in a suburb filled with the sort of real people infrequently found in typical YA fiction…there’s her friend Caramella, the daughter of Italian immigrants; Ricci, the older Yugoslavian with the little dog a fondness for Valium; and an assortment of wealthy and not-so-wealthy kids. Cedar’s older brother is also part of the story, even though he’s run away and communicates only via cryptic, poetic postcards.

The plot isn’t an especially challenging one, but the characters and writing make it shine. Naturally, there must be a boy involved somewhere, but in this book it’s not the handsome rich boy (that character is a bullying antagonist), but a tall kid named Kite, the son of circus performers. He and Cedar start practicing acrobatics together, and ultimately build a performance that involves Caramella as well as Oscar, an intelligent disabled friend of Kite’s.

Cedar’s voice is genuine and fantastic through-out the book, and I loved the slices of life that Murray expertly captures through Cedar’s eyes. “Through the window you can see the dusty beams of light reaching down toward you, reaching all the way from heaven or the sun or from an angel’s own eyes or whatever it is that watches from up there. I lie in that sunny patch and it makes me go quiet and small and as still as the dried up bugs on the windowsill.” Murray’s doodley illustrations add nice accents to the book as well, illustrating some of the acrobatics that would have otherwise been impossible to visualize, and giving the book an almost journal-like quality.

I appreciated that the author portrayed untraditional characters with the everyday casual perspective of a young woman accustomed to them. For example, Cedar has a pair of neighbors who Ricci simply calls, “the boys.” These two men have just adopted a baby together, and while less subtle authors would have turned these obviously gay characters into a lesson about untraditional families, Murray lets Cedar’s comfort and familiarity with her neighbors and their new baby speak for itself. “The boys” are just two more characters on Cedar’s street…friends Cedar can turn to when she’s worried she may have broken a rib.

At times, the political correct tone of the book had hints of contrivance, but never overwhelmingly so. Regardless, I’d take a book with a slightly labored espousal of tolerance and respect over “babysitter’s club”-style drivel any day. Cedar learns how she can make a difference in the world the same day as she learns how being a mover and a shaker can have heavy costs. That’s a complex moral. The book is a nicely balanced perspective on activism and the strengths of character, and I was more than willing to overlook a few fleeting moments where the author’s good intentions got a little heavy-handed.

Pre-teen girls will love The Slightly True Story of Cedar B. Hartley. Cedar offers the inspiration that precocious, active, self-aware young women desperately needed in this era of mary-kateandashley, and Lizzie McGuire.