Book: Me and Sam-Sam Handle the Apocalypse

Worst title.  Poor grammar in the title  Unappealing cover art.  My opinion, of course.  I dreaded reading this selection from the 2021/2 Mark Twain Award nominees.  I definitely judged this book by its cover.

In 300 pages, Me and Sam-Sam Handle the Apocalypse is, so far, the best of the books I've read on this year's list.  Author Susan Vaught has finally brought us the character that others have only tried to convey - a girl with high-functioning autism.  Jesse reacts to bullying in a way that a high-functioning autistic child might really react. Her new friend Springer is amazing in his ability to soothe Jesse's meltdowns and help her understand what is happening.

The so-called Apocalypse turns out to be a tornado that destroys Jesse's house, along with many other structures in town.  With our local knowledge of tornados, I kept thinking the tornado would become a big event that took over the plot, but Vaught successfully made the storm into the story.  I was the vehicle that brought the book to its conclusion.

From Goodreads:

I just wonder if he knew about me.

​When the cops show up at Jesse’s house and arrest her dad, she figures out in a hurry that he’s the #1 suspect in the missing library fund money case. With the help of her (first and only) friend Springer, she rounds up suspects (leading to a nasty confrontation with three notorious school bullies) and asks a lot of questions. But she can’t shake the feeling that she isn’t exactly cut out for being a crime-solving hero. Jesse has a neuro-processing disorder, which means that she’s “on the spectrum or whatever.” As she explains it, “I get stuck on lots of stuff, like words and phrases and numbers and smells and pictures and song lines and what time stuff is supposed to happen.” But when a tornado strikes her small town, Jesse is given the opportunity to show what she's really made of—and help her dad.

​I could see the big inside of my Sam-Sam. I had been training him for 252 days with mini tennis balls and pieces of bacon, just to prove to Dad and Mom and Aunt Gus and the whole world that a tiny, fluffy dog could do big things if he wanted to. I think my little dog always knew he could be a hero.

I didn't give this novel my highest marks, but there was plenty of drama here.  Unfortunately, a couple of Jesse's and Springer's conversations delved into the "restroom" differences between boys and girls and the protection of girls' and boys' developing bodies.  The book would have held up without trying to evoke uncomfortable edginess.