School Library Journal Review
Gr 7 Up--Krosoczka's follow-up to Hey, Kiddo tenderly depicts his formative experiences in 1994 as a 16-year-old camp counselor at a summer camp for children with severe illnesses, who attend with their families. He is closest to a young white child, Eric, who has acute lymphoblastic leukemia, and Diego, a younger teen with brown skin who is losing cognitive and motor skills because of a brain tumor. Krosoczka brings empathy and personal attention to every camper and family member he can, in hopes that they enjoy their limited time away from hospitals and treatments. The color scheme, with yellows and auburns shining out from gray and smudged backgrounds, reflects everyone's effort to find joy in trying circumstances. Counselors' dialogue, whether hanging out, planning activities, or discussing death and faith, makes it easy to feel attached to them all as they mature and reflect on what the camp means to them. Each of the adult counselors brings a unique perspective to the camp's work, with their personalities more fully revealed by summer's end. Chapter openers include photos, drawings, and newspaper clippings from Krosoczka's time at camp, and an afterword provides context about differences between the contents of the book and what really happened. The teen group sings Billy Joel's "Lullabye" as part of the end-of-camp Farewell Show, in a moment that will linger with readers long after the book's ending. VERDICT An admirable look back at a life turned toward service, optimism, and love.--Thomas Maluck
Publisher's Weekly Review
This simultaneously uplifting and devastating graphic novel memoir, a follow-up to Krosoczka's National Book Award finalist Hey, Kiddo, follows the creator's 16-year-old summer working at a camp for kids with life-threatening illnesses. An adult Krosoczka pensively recollects the discussion he had with his grandparents about his decision to work at Camp Sunshine: "Isn't it going to be depressing?" his grandmother asks. And while Krosoczka dispels her worries, the narrator admits he "had no idea what to expect." Accompanied by five classmates and two irritable chaperones, the protagonist arrives at the camp and learns he'll be providing one-on-one care for 13-year-old Diego, who has a progressive brain tumor and uses a wheelchair. He also develops a close bond with Power Rangers--obsessed Eric, who has leukemia. Grayscale panels are enlivened by a thematically appropriate sunshiny yellow, a skillful complement to depictions of Krosoczka's teenage self engaging in conversations with the campers, who share their hopes and dreams, even while soberly recognizing that they may never reach those realities. Though the creator is unsparing in his raw depictions of the campers' situations and his reverence when recalling these memories is palpable, he never condescends, always faithfully documenting the warmth and life-changing potential of confronting grief head-on and participating in communal care. Ages 12--up. (Apr.)
Horn Book Review
This follow-up graphic memoir to Hey, Kiddo (rev. 9/18) is aesthetically similar to its predecessor but altogether different in subject and scope. Krosoczka chronicles his time at age sixteen volunteering at Camp Sunshine, a camp for pediatric cancer patients and their families. Jarrett's assignments are one-on-one time with thirteen-year-old Diego and intermittent check-ins with the Orfao family, who are there with Eric, a lively young camper with leukemia. Diego's health is in decline, resulting in his use of a wheelchair and his reluctance to attend camp, but through a shared love of superheroes (drawn on command by Jarrett), a connection is made. Similarly, Jarrett grows close to Eric Orfao and his siblings and mother. Joyful camp moments (campfires, fishing, arts and crafts) alternate with earnest conversations regarding mortality, faith, and personal struggles -- and the tragic reality that not every camper will reach adulthood. Krosoczka's illustrations -- using a lively holding line colored with orange, yellow, and gray washes, and panel layouts -- actively contribute to the heartfelt storytelling, effectively expressing changes in perspective, mood, and significance. Chapter dividers provide artifacts such as letters, photographs, and drawings, etc.; appended with an epilogue and an author's note. (c) Copyright 2023. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
In this stand-alone companion to Krosoczka's graphic memoir, Hey, Kiddo (2018), 16-year-old Jarrett spends a life-changing week at Camp Sunshine, a summer camp for seriously ill children and their families. In 1994, artistic Jarrett, who flies under the radar at school, joins a diverse assortment of his Worcester, Massachusetts, high school classmates chosen to travel to Maine as camp volunteers. His one-on-one assignment is with Diego, who has advanced brain cancer and is a wheelchair user. Diego is withdrawn and uninterested in camp but is eventually brought out of his shell by Jarrett's quiet companionship. The slice-of-life story follows activities and developing friendships at what is in most ways a typical summer camp, yet it's one filled with kids in extraordinary circumstances enjoying the rare privilege of being ordinary. Krosoczka's art has an appealingly painterly and deliberately loose style--it's easy to see why the campers enjoy his cartoons. Especially notable is the limited color palette tending to grays, oranges, and yellows, like the titular sunshine playing across old photos. The matter-of-fact tone often, but not always, avoids leaning too hard into sentimentality. But ultimately this is a narrative in large part about inspiration provided by sick children to healthy people. This brings with it inherent and perhaps unavoidable issues with presenting the campers as lessons. The book is stronger when it prioritizes the reality of the kids themselves and gives their interior lives focus. Loving and true but doesn't always avoid cliché. (author's note) (Graphic memoir. 14-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
