QUEENIE IN SEVEN MOVES

Review by Booklist Review

Queenie and her mom must unexpectedly leave their beloved rental home, sparking the summer of seven moves from one temporary home to another. An empty unit in a retirement village, a decrepit camper van, an acquaintance's spare room--each move brings more unwelcome changes. It's not all bad, however; Queenie learns to write songs, works to overcome her insecurity about performing, and takes chances on new and old friends. Louise balances the heavy moments (including housing insecurity, adjusting to life amid shifting COVID-19 protocols, and grief) with lighter ones. Queenie and her mother's hardships are acute, but so is their joy (such days spent swimming, first kisses, and senior serenades). Queenie connects to her late father by playing his guitar, and learning to write music allows her to process her emotions amid these changes. A QR code at the back invites readers to listen to two of Queenie's original songs on Spotify. Well-paced with an excellent voice and a gorgeous Australian settting, Queenie's story is universally relatable--and bound to resonate with anyone who has struggled with change.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Horn Book Review

In this Australian import, things are bad enough when stage fright keeps Queenie Jean Anderson from performing in the last concert before the end of sixth grade. But when she gets home, she learns that the beloved house she shares with her widowed mother has been sold and they must move out immediately. Housing in Queensland is in short supply, so Queenie and her mum move temporarily into the retirement home where Mum works. From there, they are taken in by another family, then try out a camper van, and then a communal farmhouse. Their next stop is with her mother's new boyfriend, Dimitri, whom Queenie considers an unwelcome addition to their duo but gradually learns to appreciate. In the meantime, guitar-playing Queenie discovers a talent for songwriting, makes a new friend (and crush), learns that an old nemesis might not be such a threat, and has a chance to redeem herself onstage. The engaging, fast-moving story takes readers inside a not-uncommon experience of homelessness (one shared by Louise, as explained in the acknowledgments) without didacticism. Queenie's occasional naivete and petulance can be frustrating but also make her character more authentic. The happy ending is satisfying and realistic, offering hope without minimizing a broad social problem. Sarah RettgerMay/June 2025 p.91 (c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

An inspiring tale about finding home and having meaningful experiences along the way. Twelve-year-old Queenie Anderson of Curlew Point, Australia, just found out that her family's landlady is selling her beloved home. The timing is bad: Queenie, who reads white, had summoned the courage to play guitar and sing at her school's end-of-year concert. But after her former-bestie-turned-archrival, Sparrow Hawkins, who presents Black, performed Queenie's chosen song, "Ocean Eyes," right before Queenie's turn, she lost her nerve and fled. Queenie and her widowed mum temporarily relocate to an empty unit at Diamond Sands Senior Village, her mother's workplace. But Queenie's spirits are lifted after she meets purple-haired, 93-year-old Audrey, becomes the choir leader, and oversees the community Christmas concert. Inspired by Audrey, Queenie decides to perform at the show, but unfortunately, Sparrow, who's visiting her grandfather, a Diamond Sands resident, also takes the stage--and she chooses "Silent Night," the same song Queenie planned on singing. When their unit is needed for someone else, Queenie and Mum become renters, living with the family of Dory, a boy from school who's a chess whiz and a bit of a loner. Readers will relate to Queenie's mixed emotions over the upheaval in her life as well as her journey to building real friendships with Sparrow and Dory. The mother-daughter bond and other relationships forged through Queenie's moves are winning elements in this heartfelt story of silver linings. Charming and uplifting, and a touching example of perseverance during uncertain times. (QR code for songs)(Fiction. 9-13) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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HOME ONE My chest is tight. I clutch Mr. Grey's guitar like it's going to fly away. This is it. My final chance to get on the Brown & Jolly Stage and knock 'em dead. I can do this. I can really do this. I peek out from the wings. My entire school faces me. I see Mrs. Doherty, the principal, sitting in the front row, her expression terse. Dread feels like Antarctica on a winter's day. I can do this. I have to do this. This is the furthest I have ever made it. Usually, I chicken out before signing up for the concert. But this year, Mr. Grey gave me the guilt treatment in epic proportions. "Queenie, I have been teaching you now for nearly seven years. You're the best guitarist I've ever taught. Yet you're the only kid I've ever taught who refuses to perform. Do you want to make my entire teaching experience pointless? This is it, kiddo. After this, there is no end-of-year school concert. Just the upper school. And you know what that's like." I don't know what it's like. But I do know what it's like to carry Mr. Grey's guilt. It's a weighty object, and he's been putting it on my shoulders every year since I made him cry by fingerpicking "Moonlight Sonata." So I did it. I told Mr. Grey I'd play a song at the end-of-year concert. Mr. Grey had already printed the posters. So he had to go out and do a reprint especially for me. Quadruple guilt. Max Rawling is currently belting out the final bit of "Bohemian Rhapsody" on melodeon. It's awful. But the kid's so confident. You've got to give him that. "Good luck, Queenie," says Sparrow Hawkins, poking me in the ribs. "Thanks," I mutter. Thank goodness Sparrow is on after me. If you looked at Sparrow, you wouldn't straightaway think she had the potential to be an archrival. She's so friendly-looking, with her oversize mouth and shiny dark skin. Anyone who wears that many colorful beads in her hair should not be an archrival. But ever since Sparrow and I stopped being best friends in kindergarten, when she told me she could sing better than me, I've done my best to keep out of her spotlight. Sparrow the Fabulous. The Voice of Destiny. Sparrow the Spotlight Stealer. Sparrow will sing after me, and she'll be better than me. But for a moment, I'll own the spotlight, and I'll sing my favorite song, and Mr. Grey's guilt will slip off my shoulders, and I can proceed to the upper school weightless and victorious. I, Queenie Jean Anderson, performed at Curlew Point's end-of-year concert. Mrs. Fig, head of the PTA and yearbook committee, is emceeing the annual concert. When Max finally departs the stage, Mrs. Fig strides on in cowboy boots. "Thank you, Max. Marvelous. Simply marvelous. Aren't all our kids talented?" There's a polite clap and murmur from the students and supportive parents. Mum's not out there today. Not because she's not supportive. But because she's at Diamonds, the senior care village where she works. She probably could have gotten out of her shift if she knew about the concert. But I decided to save her the hassle. Having Mum in the audience might have been more than my nerves could handle. "And now for our next performance," Mrs. Fig reads from the little square of paper in her hand. She has to squint. My tummy rolls over. This is it. No escaping things now. "Sparrow Hawkins." What? My throat tightens. I should call out. I should let Mrs. Fig know that she's wrong. It's supposed to be me, then Sparrow. But Mrs. Fig is marching offstage and Sparrow is skipping on, her brand-new black guitar strapped to her back. She positions herself center stage, feet hip-width apart. She flicks her braids from her face with an almighty whip. "Go, Sparrow!" someone calls out. Sparrow's everyone's favorite sixth grader. She's been shining on this stage since kindergarten. Following Sparrow Hawkins is like being the overcooked peas served after ice cream. Disgusting and inferior. I'm not even a palate cleanser. Sparrow strikes a few chords. People cheer. The notes sink into me. I want to disappear. Evaporate. She's singing "Ocean Eyes." She's singing my song. My favorite song. The song I am about to play straight after her in a less impressive way. The first verse wraps around me, holding me hostage. By the chorus, I'm out of there. I slip out the side door and carry Mr. Grey's guitar back to the music room. Leaving is so ridiculously easy. I spend the rest of the end-of-year concert by myself in the library, reading Asterix and Obelix, trying to distract myself from the hopeless case of pathetic I know I am right now. Excerpted from Queenie in Seven Moves by Zanni Louise All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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