Sprawling slice of life stories centring on children attending a reading program in a low-income area of Toronto over the course of a year. An Indigenous woman struggles to get support for her special needs son; a queer Vietnamese boy deals with bullying; a white girl tries to find space and peace despite a violent home; the woman who runs the reading program deals with all of this, plus a supervisor whose e-mails are micro-aggressions and smilies in roughly equal measure. (I will say that the absence of a major Black character, though certainly there were a number of secondary Black characters, felt odd?)

This kind of book treads a thin line between poverty porn and inspirational fluff, and I think what keeps Scarborough from falling to one side of the other is that the focus on characterisation. Which is admittedly a hard quality to pin down, but Hernandez draws enough flaws, quirks, dreams and histories together for each child and parent to bring them all to life. In the centre of the book, on Christmas night, the points of view prism outward to encompass the whole community, and how they all see each other, and fragments of each of their lives, like suddenly twisting a kaleidoscope, and we see all the other possible stories just on that street. I liked the mix of the feeling that the strands of story we're following are just a few among many, and that they are simultaneously as vital as any other. I also liked the mix of tragedy and humour and exhaustion and compassion that runs through all of their lives. It's so clear that this is a community Hernandez lived in and worked with and loves.