Terri Libenson’s latest middle-grade graphic novel, Always Anthony, explores the age-old question of how two very different people may become friends.
Anthony Randall is great at math, science, and basketball, but is on the edge of failure in language arts. He is Black, slender, and tall. Leah Ruben loves cooking and writes poetry. She is white, has unruly curls, and wears glasses. However, the differences between them are superficial compared to the major one: Anthony is TPFW (Too Popular for Words), while Leah is socially awkward and a “certified worrywart.” Yet when Leah is assigned the task of tutoring Anthony in writing, their conversations lead to a real connection rooted in introspection and empathy.
One of the hallmarks of Libenson’s work is her realistic portrayal of characters’ interactions. Anthony and Leah’s families are both supportive, but both kids experience some friction with their parents and siblings. Leah’s father died when she was very young, and the loss has left a gap in her life that will never be filled. Anthony’s mother and father have high academic standards, and his father’s career as a pediatric psychiatrist sometimes gives Anthony the awkward sense that he is being observed. Friendships, crushes, and bullies are all portrayed with subtlety. Libenson contextualizes characters’ behavior without making excuses for their cruelty or insensitivity.
Leah explains to Anthony that she cannot attend basketball games on Friday nights because her family observes Shabbat with a special meal. Although Leah’s Friday-night commitment is at the core of her family’s identity, she has relatives who criticize them for their lack of traditional observance on Saturdays. Leah then brings up her father’s death and his Orthodox background. As the topic becomes more charged, the full-color profiles of Anthony and Leah turn to dark silhouettes.
Libenson highlights both kids’ differences and their mutual respect. “What’s shul?” Anthony asks, to which Leah replies, “Yiddish word for synagogue.” Anthony then thinks about his preference for listening to others’ stories over opening up about his own.
Chapters alternate between Anthony and Leah’s perspectives. The font in Anthony’s chapters is smaller and more angular, while Leah’s chapters feature larger and rounder lettering. These choices reflect each of their personalities: Anthony is understated, minimizing conflict, while Leah is more vocal about stressful situations. Some drawings depict events literally, while others use metaphor, such as the panel in which Anthony is encased in a heavy volume with locks and described as “not what you’d call an open book.”
By the time the friends resolve some tough conflicts through teshuvah, they both have changed, but they still remain who they always will be.
Emily Schneider writes about literature, feminism, and culture for Tablet, The Forward, The Horn Book, and other publications, and writes about children’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures.
