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In other reviews, I’ve shared how much admiration I have for Gloria Whelan’s ability to tell stories that are not only historically accurate but also exciting, well-crafted, and deeply engaging. That admiration has led me to search high and low for everything she’s written. Along the way, I discovered that she contributed several volumes to the Tales of Young Americans series published by Sleeping Bear Press—each one truly excellent.
As I began exploring more titles in the series, I realized the quality of storytelling across the board was remarkably high. Naturally, I started collecting them. When I added A Book for Black-Eyed Susan by Judy Young to my library, I didn’t get the chance to preview it right away—it was immediately checked out by a young patron. She loved it so much she told her friends, and for months afterward, this lovely book would come in, only to go right back out again to another eager family.
I’ve now read two or three of Young’s contributions to the series, and each one has been lovely. So far, though, A Book for Black-Eyed Susan is my favorite. I have a special fondness for Westward expansion stories; that chapter of American history seems to yield some of the most quintessentially American stories I’ve encountered. Young handles the theme with both tenderness and strength, creating a story that lingers in the reader’s heart.
The illustrations by Doris Ettlinger elevate the book even further. Her ability to convey story and emotion through facial expression is breathtaking. The freckles on Cora’s face are sweetly rendered, and the expression of sorrow as she parts from her sister absolutely punched me in the gut.
This story has all the hallmarks of a classic wagon train tale—hardship, intense loss, community, and hope. These are the kinds of stories that serve our young people well; they reveal the heroic grit and quiet determination that early pioneers carried in abundance. Cora’s journey is deeply moving because it was the rule, not the exception—a childhood shaped by sorrow but also by resilience and love.
One of the most touching aspects of the book is how Cora uses her mother’s sewing box to create a quilted book for her baby sister. It’s a gesture full of tenderness and meaning—a way of reminding Susan who she is, how deeply she is loved, and that her life is worth protecting. That simple act of stitching becomes an act of storytelling, memory, and hope.
I found A Book for Black-Eyed Susan to be a beautifully told and illustrated story with nothing I would wish to change.
This book would be particularly meaningful for young families studying the pioneers, Westward Expansion, or the values that helped shape America—perseverance, sacrifice, and hope. It makes an excellent read-aloud, inviting conversation and reflection, but it’s also well-suited to independent young readers ready to enter a moving and memorable story on their own.
Parents may wish to know that, like nearly all the books in this series, A Book for Black-Eyed Susan contains themes of acute hardship and loss. These elements are an honest reflection of the time period and are handled with perfect grace—never gratuitous, always respectful, and deeply human.