DEAR ELSA

A pen-pal assignment changes a reluctant participant in this epistolary novel centered on friendship.

When Leo, a Toronto boy in grade 5, is randomly assigned by his teacher to correspond with Elsa, a Boston fifth grader, he’s annoyed. Not only must he write to a girl, but each letter must be at least 250 words long. He expresses his feelings in a haiku appended to one letter: “THIS IS REALLY DUMB (5) / I COULD BE PLAYING OUTSIDE (7) / LIKE I SAID IT’S DUMB (5).” Leo is dealing with a lot: His family’s move from Montreal has been a rough adjustment, he feels excluded at school, and he cycles home by a different route every day to avoid high school bullies. As they continue their correspondence, Leo, who has a tendency to see the glass half empty, is sometimes rude to Elsa, but he also finds solace in having someone to confide in. Optimist Elsa is revealed several months into their pen-pal relationship to be a wheelchair user with spina bifida. Fed up with Leo’s self-pity, she writes, “At least you can walk and run. I can hardly walk at all.” Even though she is developed as a character in other ways, Elsa’s disability ultimately feels like a device to foster Leo’s personal growth. Characters are not physically described and are racially ambiguous.

A story of personal development that hinges on a tired disability trope.