After I jangled and jingled the cages of my fellow “What We’re Reading” correspondents for some verse before National Poetry Month melts away, WWR mainstays Mahnaz and Meredith complied, with a macabre kiddie ditty and a choreopoem, respectively. Then, like a wild wind, LJ Prepub Editor Barbara Hoffert, our own poetry woman, swooped in and saved the day (month?) with a few suggestions to ease the pain of that cruel month, which took Prince this year. Others (myself included) wanted to talk fiction and nonfic, so I graciously accepted their odes to prose as well. Mahnaz Dar, Assistant Managing Editor, LJS Last week, I had the privilege of hearing David K. Shipler, a Pulitzer Prize–winning author and former New York Times correspondent, moderate a panel at an event on censorship at the Bank Street College of Education. Shipler touched on his book The Working Poor: Invisible in America (Knopf), which has faced censorship in high schools owing to its sexual content. I bought a copy of the book (and had it autographed) and began reading it. It’s a sensitive yet insightful work that shows how both personal decisions and institutional issues combine to keep the poor from realizing the so-called American Dream. Now, on to the poetry! One of my favorite poems is Edward Gorey’s “The Gashlycrumb Tinies,” which I also have framed as a poster in my apartment. It’s a dark abecedarian nursery rhyme about a group of children who meet their ends in various ways (“A is for Amy who fell down the stairs / B is for Basil assaulted by bears”). It sums up the essence that is me: children’s literature (of sorts), the macabre, humor, and death! What’s not to love? Kate DiGirolomo, SELF-e Community Coordinator It’s finally happened, everyone. I am now the proud owner of Hamilton: The Revolution (Grand Central), an inside look into the development of the (insert every positive adjective and accolade ever here) Hamilton. I previously highlighted it in my Editors’ Spring Picks, and getting to actually flip through it now only enforces what a good choice it was. The book itself is a work of art with rough-cut pages and faux-leather binding, worthy of display. It’s filled to the brim with production and behind-the-scenes photos in full-page spreads with Lin-Manuel Miranda’s brilliant libretto positioned around them. And let’s just talk about Miranda for a moment. Along with Jeremy McCarter, he gives an inside account of the show, its inspirations, and its cast, providing fans—some of whom may never get the chance to see Hamilton live—with a wealth of information to keep them satisfied. My absolute favorite aspect of the book has to be Miranda’s libretto notes. The man didn’t win a Pulitzer for nothing, and his clever insights and deft grasp of wordplay and structure make that even more apparent. So excuse me while I go back to poring over this treasure and go watch the cast pay tribute to Prince after curtain call. Bette-Lee Fox, Managing Editor, LJ I’m reading the new Susan Elizabeth Phillips title, First Star I See Tonight (Morrow), out in August. Phillips returns to the Chicago Stars football team she’s been writing about since 1994 (It Had To Be You), though my first experience with the author and the series was This Heart of Mine (2001). First Star revolves around ex-quarterback Cooper Graham and Piper Dove, the PI hired by a potential investor to check into his business practices and behavior now that Coop owns and operates a sports-themed nightclub. And no couple could appear on the surface to be more opposite than these two. Such fun and warmth in one package. Liz French, Senior Editor, LJ Reviews I have emerged shaken and stirred by Emma Cline’s amazing first novel, The Girls (Random), which I devoured over the weekend. It’s loosely based on the Manson murders of 1969, but it’s a whole lot more than a warmed-over true crime title. This one gets the period details so right, and it so carefully, terribly dissects the brain of a 14-year-old girl as she negotiates adolescence and all of its confusions. Throw in a maniacal cult and the usual mix of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and Cline’s haunted narrator will stay with you—whether you desire that or not. Meredith Schwartz, Executive Editor, LJ I just got a massive recommendation list from an #AskALibrarian question about what I should read in the same vein as my two fave comfort rereads, Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin (St. Martin’s) and Diane Duane’s Stealing the Elf King’s Roses (Aspect), that got picked up and passed around by a bunch of amazing fantasy authors and friends on Twitter. But I haven’t had a chance to start any of those yet. In the meantime, next up is a reread of “The Love Space Demands,” a choreopoem by Ntozake Shange, in honor of her archive going to Barnard, where it will be incorporated into the Digital Shange Project (@ShangeWorlds on Twitter). Barnard is my alma mater, and my high school brain crush on Shange was one of the reasons I applied there. (Sadly I lost a whole bunch of my signed copies of her books on first year move-in day. I hope they ended up with someone who loves them.)