Margaret Peterson Haddix, Caroline B. Cooney, Ann Rinaldi: these are my go-to authors for upper middle grade and young adult fiction that is suspenseful and engaging but not too hard to read or so thick with pages and words as to be intimidating to the casual reader.

I’m not sure these mid-list authors get enough credit for what they do. Writing what we used to call a “hi-lo” book, high interest and lower reading level, is not so easy. The Always War is one of Ms. Haddix’s non-series books about a dystopian future in which the world has been at war for generations. In fact, no one, including the book’s protagonist, Tessa, can remember a time when The War wasn’t the salient reality that defined the culture of the country where Tessa lives.

The Always War reminded me of an episode from Star Trek, not any articular episode, but I could see the premise of the book being used as the premise for a Star Trek episode. The plot involves computers and helicopters and cultural expectations and courage and talents and the reasons for (and against) war. I recommend this one for young readers who aren’t quite ready for The Hunger Games and all its copycats and wannabes, but who want to join in on the dystopia bandwagon.

“Courage,” the general said in a hushed voice, as if he too were in awe. “We give this medal of honor for courage far above the measure of ordinary citizens. Only eleven people have earned this medal in our nation’s history. And now Gideon Thrall, a proud son of Waterford City, will be the twelfth.” He turned. “Gideon?”
The general lifted the chain even higher, ready to slip it over Gideon’s head. Gideon took a halting step forward, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do.
No, Tessa thought. To her surprise she was suddenly furious with Gideon. Don’t hesitate now! Be bold! You’re getting an award for courage. Act like it!
Gideon was staring at the medallion. Even from the back of the auditorium Tessa could see his face twist into an expression that looked nothing like boldness or bravery. How could he be acting so confused? Or … scared?
“For your bravery in battle,” the general said, holding out the medallion like a beacon. He was trying to guide Gideon into place. Gideon just needed to put his head inside the chain. Then everyone could clap and cheer again, and all the awkwardness would be forgotten.
Gideon made no move toward the chain.
“No,” Gideon said, and in the silent auditorium his voice sounded weak and panicky. “I … can’t.”
“Can’t?” the general repeated, clearly unable to believe his own ears.
“I don’t deserve it,” Gideon said, and strangely, his voice was stronger now. “I wasn’t brave. I was a coward.”
He looked at the general, looked at the medallion—and whirled around and ran from the auditorium.