The "hero’s journey" is one of the most tired tropes in the YA pantry. Usually, a kid finds out they’re special, joins the elite guard, and saves the day. Squire takes that setup and executes a perfect deconstruction. It doesn't just ask what it takes to be a hero; it asks who decided what "heroic" looks like in the first place.
The Avatar connection
If your kid spent their formative years obsessed with Avatar: The Last Airbender, this is the logical next step. It shares that same DNA of high-stakes world-building and a "magic" system that feels grounded in culture rather than just flashy spells. But where Avatar is ultimately a story about restoring balance, Squire is more interested in how the scales were tipped to begin with.
It’s a story about the military-industrial complex disguised as a fantasy adventure. Nadia Shammas doesn't sugarcoat the way the Bayt-Sajji Empire treats Aiza and her people. The tension isn't just "will she win the fight?" but "will she lose her soul to a system that views her as disposable?" It’s a heavy pivot from the "chosen one" narratives that dominate the genre, and it’s exactly the kind of friction that keeps a twelve-year-old turning pages.
Beyond the "strong female lead"
We’re currently drowning in media that thinks "strong female lead" just means a girl who is good at sword fighting. Aiza is much more interesting than that. She’s desperate, she’s occasionally selfish, and she’s trying to navigate a world that wants her to scrub away her Ornu heritage to "earn" her place.
The relationship with her mentor isn't a warm, fuzzy Karate Kid vibe. It’s prickly and honest. The book challenges the idea that you have to become a tool for a government to be someone of value. For a kid who is starting to notice the way history books are written—or the way recruitment ads are framed—this hits like a ton of bricks.
Why it belongs on the shelf
This is a high-utility book for a growing collection. Because it’s a graphic novel, the barrier to entry is low, but the intellectual "floor" is incredibly high. It’s the kind of title that bridges the gap between middle-grade adventure and the more cynical, complex themes of high school literature.
If you’re working on building a home library that kids actually use, Squire is a cornerstone. It’s the book they’ll finish in one sitting and then leave on the coffee table for you to find, because they’ll actually want to talk about that ending. It doesn’t wrap things up with a neat, happy bow, and that’s why it sticks.
The visual payoff
The SWANA-inspired aesthetic is a breath of fresh air. In a market where "fantasy" usually means "vaguely medieval Europe," the architecture, clothing, and landscapes here feel vibrant and specific. It’s not just window dressing; the art carries the weight of the story’s cultural conflict. When Aiza has to hide her tattoos, you feel the loss of that visual identity. It’s a masterclass in using the graphic novel format to tell a story that wouldn't hit nearly as hard in plain prose.
