When I was first invited to take part in an author panel with educator and writer Kristiana Kahakauwila, I was more than a little nervous. While I was an anxious debut author with a launch date light-years away (actually July 23), Kahakauwila, based on what I could find from a frantic internet search, was something of an icon.

Having published a collection of literary fiction stories in 2013, as well as short fiction and essays in several journals and magazines, Kahakauwila was preparing to launch her middle-grade novel, Clairboyance, coming out from HarperCollins. She was a well-established writer with several fellowships and artist residencies under her belt, while I, in my own estimation, was just barely hanging on.

Yet upon meeting Kahakauwila over Zoom, I quickly realized she was not nearly as intimidating as I had expected. She answered my many, many questions about her book with the patience of a saint, even telling me she appreciated my attention to her work.

In all honesty, it would be hard not to pay attention to her work. After hitting the last page in my PDF version of Clairboyance, I had raced over to my laptop to type up all the discussion questions and observations I wanted to bring up. Clairboyance had gotten me thinking—about our panel, of course, but also about reading, writing, and that brief yet enduring experience of being a middle schooler.

Kahakauwila may be new to the middle-grade scene, but she is no stranger to the literary world at large. Her short story collection, This is Paradise, captured the nuances of life in Hawai‘i. It was this collection that led Kahakauwila to be approached to write a middle-grade book about a girl living in Hawai‘i, and dealing with newfound boy-specific mind-reading powers, that led to the birth of Clairboyance.

While many of us grew up in a time when books were either “small kid kine” or “adult kine,” children of this new generation are lucky enough to have books shelved into neat age categories, with middle-grade (or MG) fiction’s target audience being children ages eight through twelve and young-adult (or YA) fiction’s target audience being children and teens ages twelve through eighteen.

Going back and reading YA and MG fiction as a grown-up is a bit like finding old photographs at a stranger’s garage sale. You may not have experienced that homemade, plastic-tarp waterslide or that wild house party yourself, but you recognize the emotions on the strangers’ faces. You remember how it felt to be that age. You understand the beauty of capturing those fleeting moments of being that young.

In speaking with Kahakauwila, I learned the transition from adult literary to fantastical middle grade was not nearly as difficult as one may assume. From the moment she found her narrator’s voice, she knew she had hit her stride. She mentioned she felt MG placed more of an emphasis on continuous action, but even in the middle of the chaos, there is a beautiful maturity and thoughtfulness in her work.

Her narrator’s voice may read as more contemplative than the average MG protagonist, but it is still wonderfully accessible, with touches of humor people of all ages will enjoy. When I read about the young narrator showing interest in her Tūtū’s life, going so far as to ask the ‘umeke, her family’s heirloom, “Was Tūtū kolohe when she was younger?” I had to smile; I remember visiting my grandparents and asking what my dad had been like as a kid—and yes, he had definitely had his kolohe moments.

In the interest of looking at the life of a middle schooler through a multigenerational lens, Kahakauwila says she decided to create a story about family, taking care to focus on the importance of kūpuna. She even dedicated the book to kūpuna—both hers and her daughter’s. The main character of Clairboyance, Clara, shares a name with Kahakauwila’s own grandmother.

Kahakauwila’s love for kūpuna is best demonstrated in Clara’s relationship with her Tūtū, a wisecracking, pidgin-talking woman with weak lungs but a strong heart. The moments between Clara and her Tūtū are some of the strongest moments in the entire book. Tūtū is the very one who warns Clara, “‘Be careful what you wish for, Shrub. Things don’t always work out the way we think they will.’”

Despite her Tūtū’s warning, Clara can’t help but wish. Her biggest desire is to leave Hawai‘i—not because she has grown tired of living with her Tūtū and her lo‘i but because she has been dealing with something everyone goes through sooner or later: the aftermath of an ugly friendship breakup.

After three years of being best friends, Leo and Clara are no longer on speaking terms. Clara is now known not as an artist or a local girl with the coolest lo‘i around or even as Leo’s best friend but as Baby Mouse, a cruel nickname resulting from the unfortunate lunchtime incident that led to the end of their friendship.

The pain of losing Leo, along with the stress of having to make new friends, leads Clara to ask her family’s ‘umeke a question: “‘‘Umeke, what are boys thinking?’”

The ‘umeke, or Hawaiian calabash bowl, does not answer. Not aloud, anyway.

Upon boarding the bus the next day, however, Clara learns she has gained the power to hear boys’ thoughts. She knows attention-seeking Denny wants someone to notice his new shoes, bookworm Titus loves reading books about dragons, and her ex-friend Leo likes her punny shirt but would never say so aloud, now that they don’t talk.

Clara hopes she can use her newfound powers for good, maybe even discovering a way to make up with Leo. Unfortunately, fixing everything is much easier said than done, and Clara soon finds herself in an even bigger mess than before. To rectify her snowballing mistakes, she will have to connect with new friends, reconnect with old ones, lean on the support of her family, and remember Hawai‘i is more than a place; it’s a community like no other.

In our conversation, Kahakauwila told me she has a fondness for her middle-school years—“I think I’m the only one of my friends who had a good middle-school experience,” she said with a laugh—and though she understands not everyone feels the same about their tweenaged experience, her appreciation for that universal awkward phase shines through every word of her book. Clairboyance focuses on not only Clara’s new gift but on how the middle-school experience, as messy and emotionally turbulent as it is, can always be made better, especially through community support, family bonds, and friendship.

Clairboyance boasts a wide variety of colorful and memorable characters, including Kumu Maka, the local bus driver, and Denny, a loudmouthed boy with a soft side. Kahakauwila has a way of creating characters who will inevitably remind the reader of people they have known and loved.

Though her middle-grade novel is tonally different from her darker, more somber collection of short stories, those indescribable moments of feeling seen, especially for those who grew up in Hawai‘i, are still scattered throughout her work. In fact, while reading Kahakauwila’s This is Paradise in preparation for this review, I realized I had seen her work before. I’d read the titular story itself, the very first in the collection, sometime in either high school or college. And I could vividly recall its main lesson: how much of a role place and culture can play in just a single story.

It would be no exaggeration to say, then, that reading Kahakauwila’s work, from her literary short stories to her new middle-grade novel, feels just like coming home.

The perfect book for children, tweens, teens, and even adults who may not have the words for all their feelings or the fix for all their problems, boy-induced or otherwise, Clairboyance was released on May 14 and is available now.

Banner image by Redd F.