You ever pick up a book and realize within ten pages that it’s going to wreck you? That’s basically the universal experience of reading Iveliz Explains It All. Andrea Beatriz Arango didn’t just write a "kids' book" about mental health. She wrote a raw, jagged, and honestly beautiful look at what it feels like to lose your footing when you're only twelve years old.
Middle grade fiction is usually full of magic or lighthearted school drama. This isn't that. It’s a novel in verse, which means it’s written like poetry, and that format is exactly why it works so well. The white space on the page feels like the silence in Iveliz's house. It feels like the things she can't quite say out loud to her Mami.
What Most People Get Wrong About Iveliz Explains It All
People see a book about a seventh-grader and assume it’s just about "sadness" or "moodiness." It isn't. Iveliz Explains It All is a deep look at trauma, specifically the kind of trauma that comes from loss and the complicated reality of living with depression and PTSD. Iveliz isn't just "sad." She’s struggling with the death of her father, a fractured relationship with her mother, and the arrival of her grandmother, Mimi, who is dealing with Alzheimer’s.
There’s this misconception that stories for this age group need to wrap everything up in a neat little bow. Arango refuses to do that. She shows the mess. She shows the anger.
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Iveliz is a Puerto Rican girl living in Maryland, and the cultural nuances here are massive. You see the "taboo" nature of mental health in some Latinx households play out in real-time. Her mother wants her to "be strong" or "just try harder," which is a heartbreakingly common experience for kids who feel like their brains are betraying them.
The Poetry of the Breakdown
Why verse? Honestly, if this were a standard prose novel, it might feel too heavy. The poetry allows Iveliz to speak in fragments. Sometimes she’s funny. Sometimes she’s snarky. Other times, the words just stop.
The Role of the Journal
The book is framed as a journal. Iveliz’s therapist, Dr. Wood, suggests she write things down. It's a classic trope, sure, but Arango subverts it by having Iveliz be brutally honest about how much she hates the process at first. It feels authentic. Most seventh graders don't want to "journal their feelings." They want to fit in. They want to garden. They want their friends to stop acting weird.
Dealing with Mimi
The arrival of her grandmother from Puerto Rico adds a layer of complexity that most books shy away from. Mimi has Alzheimer’s. She forgets things. She says things that hurt. But she also represents a connection to Puerto Rico that Iveliz desperately needs. The tension between Iveliz’s struggle to keep her head above water and her mother’s struggle to care for an aging parent is where the heart of the book lives.
Why the Portrayal of Therapy Matters
We need to talk about Dr. Wood. In Iveliz Explains It All, therapy isn't a magic cure. It's work. Iveliz deals with the stigma of taking medication, something that is still incredibly controversial in many communities. The book tackles the "pill" conversation head-on.
Iveliz feels like the medication makes her "not herself," or she worries it's a sign that she's "broken." Watching her navigate that—and seeing her mother’s own hesitation—is probably the most important part of the story. It validates the kids who are actually going through this. They see themselves not as a "problem to be solved," but as a person navigating a health challenge.
Friendships and the Seventh-Grade Social Minefield
Middle school is a nightmare even if you aren't dealing with PTSD. Iveliz has to manage her friendship with Amir and the shifting dynamics of her social circle. There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes when you feel like your friends are moving forward while you’re stuck in a dark room.
The book captures that drift. It captures the way guilt can eat at a friendship until there’s nothing left but awkward silences in the hallway.
Cultural Identity and the "Strong Girl" Myth
Iveliz is constantly told to be fuerte. Strong. In many cultures, admitting you need help is seen as a weakness or a betrayal of the family's privacy. Iveliz Explains It All deconstructs this. It shows that true strength is actually the moment Iveliz decides to advocate for herself, even when the person she loves most—her Mami—is the one making it hardest.
The use of Spanish throughout the book isn't just for "flavor." It’s the language of her home, her grief, and her healing. If you aren't a native speaker, you’ll still get it. The emotion carries the meaning.
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Facing the Reality of Grief
The "Big Secret" or the "Big Event" involving her father is handled with incredible delicacy. Arango doesn't exploit the tragedy for shock value. Instead, she explores the aftermath. She explores the way grief doesn't go away; it just changes shape.
Iveliz is haunted. Literally and figuratively. She sees her father. She talks to him. This isn't a ghost story in the traditional sense, but a manifestation of her inability to let go of the guilt she carries regarding the accident.
Addressing the Critics and the "Heavy" Label
Some parents or educators might worry that the book is "too much" for a twelve-year-old. That's a mistake. Kids are already living these lives. They are already dealing with loss, anxiety, and family pressure. Ignoring these themes in literature doesn't protect them; it just leaves them without a map.
Iveliz Explains It All provides that map. It’s a Newbery Honor winner for a reason. It doesn't talk down to its audience. It meets them exactly where they are—in the middle of the mess.
How to Use This Book in Real Life
If you’re a parent, teacher, or just someone who cares about a kid struggling with their mental health, this book is a tool. It’s a conversation starter that doesn’t feel like a lecture.
- Read it together. If the child is open to it, read a few poems a night and just ask, "What do you think she’s feeling there?"
- Focus on the "Small Wins." Notice how Iveliz finds peace in her garden. It’s a reminder that healing often happens in the dirt, not just in a doctor’s office.
- Validate the Anger. Don't shush the parts where Iveliz is "disrespectful" or angry. Those are her most honest moments. Acknowledge that it's okay to be mad at the world sometimes.
- Discuss the Medication. If a child is starting treatment, use Iveliz’s journey to talk about the fears and the reality of how it feels to find the right balance.
- Connect with Heritage. Use the Puerto Rican elements to talk about how family history and location shape who we are, even when we're far away from "home."
The reality is that Iveliz Explains It All is a mirror for some and a window for others. It tells kids that they are allowed to take up space. They are allowed to be messy. And most importantly, they are allowed to ask for help until someone finally hears them.
Don't expect a perfect ending. Expect a hopeful one. There's a massive difference between the two. Iveliz doesn't "get over" her depression by the last page. She learns how to live with it. She learns how to garden in the rain. That’s a lesson that stays with you long after you close the book.
If you are looking for a way to bridge the gap between "I'm fine" and what's actually going on in a young person's head, this is the text to do it. It’s raw, it’s Puerto Rican, it’s heartbreaking, and it is absolutely essential.