Shook

Chicago poet Julian Randall makes a slam dunk with his return to middle grade fiction in Shook, a novel in verse following the ambitious Malik Page (“but everybody who ain’t my momma calls me Shake”). He eats, sleeps and breathes basketball, and he fully intends to be one of the rare players to make the high school varsity team as an eighth grader. Those dreams are abruptly benched, however, during the last game of the seventh grade season. Just as his team is about to win the playoffs, Shake jumps and lands off-kilter, and not even his brand-new Air Jordans can protect his ankle from a massive fracture.

Suddenly, Shake’s summer is looking a little different, and a lot worse. On the West Side of Chicago, where he’s hardly alone in his love of basketball, the court—whether that’s the United Center or the hoop in the neighborhood park—is what feels most like home. Now Shake’s stuck in his cast and self-pity while everyone else, from his teammates to his friend Kyla (“a best friend who feels like the only shade on a 1,000-degree day”), seems to be moving on without him. To make things worse, his family doesn’t have a lot of extra money to spare, so the expense of Shake’s hospital visit prompts a lot of late-night whispered conversations between his mom and dad.

Shook is a novel in verse, but Shake’s first-person narration, written in the casual language he uses with his friends, keeps the lines both concrete and accessible, as does the inclusion of group text threads, interviews and other creative forms. Randall, who has written poetry and nonfiction for adults (The Dead Don’t Need Reminding) as well as other middle grade novels, excels at bridging these worlds, crafting poems that capture the tension of the final seconds of a basketball game as well as those that explore vulnerability, owning up to one’s mistakes and evolving: "dreams can change and still be dreams."

Shake’s story is also a frank exploration of mental health, specifically anxiety, and about how talking to one another can help. Shake’s super cool therapist (“a Black dude from the West Side named Kendrick J. Drake”)—who bonds with his clients while playing NBA 2K—urges him to ask the right questions of himself and others. In doing so, Shake prompts his parents to open up about their own family and personal histories, creating conversations that are both overdue and full of healing. Shook is a stellar sports novel, but it’s also so much more.