Gilly lives in a forest with her mom. Her best (and only) friend is Ever-So-Wise-Or-So-He-Says Oggy, a passionate 10 year-old who believes in magic and makes up his own words and spells. Gilly’s father is no longer in the picture, living on the other side of the forest, and by way of her diary Gilly narrates around the deep longing she has to have her father back. Gilly and Oggy devise a spell to get him back from his live-in girlfriend, Mississippi, whom Gilly loathes and thus lists FIRST when musing on the topic “If people HAD to die in order…”

Welcome to the magical world of 10 year old brains with 10 year old imaginations and fitting childlike interpretations. It’s unreliable narration at its finest and funniest: Gilly has no qualms about admitting she lies. Her directness is refreshing and witty in a manner exclusively reserved for preteens. But more than that, the reader immediately senses, apart from Gilly’s inability as a 10 year old to process adult complexities, that things are also being kept from her.

In her writing journey (Gilly hopes this becomes a book one day), Gilly ponders about family a lot. Along with magical words made up by Oggy, they discuss equally powerful real words like “psychology”, “high sensitivity” and particularly “heredity”. Both kids marvel at the concept of heredity, thinking that if one parent likes something, they will inherit that same like. Or that same choice. Or behavior. These conversations and these kids’ life experiences so far give us a lot of insight into Oggy’s motivations especially and how he affects Gilly. Without giving much away, I thought this was just beautifully woven together.

Much like the world this story takes place in. Initially, we think it’s a timeless sort of enchanted forest, with tangerine trees, and ‘yanika’ animals (I listened to the audiobook, please forgive me for not knowing the spelling). So when Gilly suddenly mentions Disney and Stephen King, it’s really jarring! We’re in the modern world after all! But it’s a very, very isolated, small world for Gilly. She doesn’t attend school and has only her mom, her Tangerine tree, and Oggy. Oggy is clearly her whole world, her diary full of Oggy-isms. He’s her anchor in life.

Despite that, Gilly is full of light and humor, her journal a chronicle of a journey, but also full of random observations and delightful information, such as her having been to Oggy’s house 53 times. Of Oggy’s parents having “a special mirror above the bed. Oggy swears it’s for catching night smiles.” Or of Oggy being just “this kid in front of her” or “that boy she knows” when they’re in a fight. The way I chuckled at all of this. Kids are awesome.

But stowed away in between the Oggy-isms or the 1000 references to yanika’s, she works in thoughts like: “Beautiful things should stand on her own,” referring to her individuality. And the heartbreaking question she longs to ask her mom: “‘Do you love me?’ I know the answer, but I just need to hear her say it.”

These sensitive, honest thoughts made me physically brace myself for Gilly towards the end. I was fully invested, and upon finishing the book I found myself entirely baffled to be suddenly in tears. Again without spoiling the ending, as a person whose own childhood was full of questions about family and belonging, so much of this just resonated. I kept flashing back to my own chaotic journal entries from when I was 9 years old. The stuff that mattered then (cringe!) with little hints of hope and heartbreak scattered in between. You know, the soul-shaping stuff in a little time capsule. This little book has got all that.