Marie Arnold didn't set out to write a comforting book, and she succeeded. The story follows Ayo, a 15-year-old living in Harlem whose world implodes when her older sister, Divina, is shot by the police. While the book is often compared to The Hate U Give, it carves out its own space by focusing heavily on the internal machinery of a movement—how a grieving kid becomes the face of a revolution she never asked to lead.

It’s a "social justice novel," sure, but it’s also a story about a girl who just wants her sister back. The writing is fast, the dialogue feels like Harlem, and the stakes couldn't be higher. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to put your phone down and actually do something, which is exactly why it’s landing so hard with Gen Z readers.

If you’re wondering if this is "too much," you have to look at what your kid is already absorbing. If they’re on social media or watching the news, they’ve seen the real-world versions of what happens in this book. Arnold just gives those headlines a heartbeat.

Here is exactly what’s in the mix:

The real engine of I Rise isn't the politics—it's the relationship between Ayo and Divina. Arnold spends time showing us who Divina was before she became a hashtag. She was a mentor, a protector, and a person with flaws and dreams.

This is where the book earns its keep. By making the loss personal, the activism that follows feels earned rather than performative. It’s a masterclass in showing kids that "the news" is always about real people with real families.

If your reader is in that "intentional, socially-aware teen" phase, don't pivot back to light fantasy immediately. Let them sit in this space for a bit. Here are a few deeper cuts that hit the same frequency:

This is a novel in verse about a boy wrongfully incarcerated. Because it’s poetry, it feels incredibly intimate and moves fast, but the emotional punch is just as heavy as Arnold’s. It’s a great pick for kids who liked the "system vs. the individual" aspect of I Rise.

If they want to see how these themes play out in real life, this is the one. It’s narrative non-fiction about a hate crime on a public bus in Oakland. It explores the complexities of race, gender, and the juvenile justice system without being preachy.

For the kid who wants the history behind the fiction. This is a deep dive into the Black Panther Party. It’s big, it’s thorough, and it provides the historical context that makes Ayo’s struggle in I Rise feel part of a much longer timeline.

This one handles the "police violence" theme from two perspectives—one Black, one white. It’s a staple in middle and high school classrooms for a reason: it forces a conversation about perspective and privilege that most books shy away from.

You don't need to lead a seminar on constitutional law to talk about this book. You just need to be a sounding board.

One friction point: The book is unapologetically critical of law enforcement. If your family has a different relationship with the police, this might feel provocative. Instead of shutting it down, ask: "Ayo’s experience with the police is terrifying—why do you think her community feels so differently about them than people in other neighborhoods might?"

The "Transition" Pro-Tip: This book is an emotional drain. If your kid finishes it right before bed, they might need a "palate cleanser"—a 20-minute episode of a comedy or a few chapters of something lighter—to help them decompress before sleep.

Q: What age is I Rise appropriate for? I Rise is firmly Young Adult (YA). While mature 12-year-olds can handle it, the sweet spot is 13-17. The themes of systemic violence and intense grief require a level of emotional maturity to process.

Q: Is there a lot of profanity in I Rise? There is some realistic "street" language, including occasional strong profanity. It’s used to establish the setting and the intensity of the characters' emotions, rather than for shock value.

Q: Does I Rise have a happy ending? It’s "hopeful" rather than "happy." It doesn't pretend that a protest fixes everything or that grief disappears. It’s an ending about resilience and the beginning of a long journey, which feels much more honest than a fairy-tale conclusion.

Q: Is this book too political for a 13-year-old? It’s as political as the world we live in. For many kids, the themes in this book aren't "politics"—they're daily life. Reading it is a way for kids to develop empathy and understand the stakes of current social movements.

I Rise is a heavy, necessary, and ultimately empowering read. It trusts its audience to handle the truth about how hard it is to change the world. If your kid is ready to move past the "everything is fine" stage of middle-grade fiction, this is the perfect gateway into more serious, meaningful literature.