Hey, my lost friends! Today I’m here to talk about a book that took me by surprise: Maggie and the Chocolate War. Yes, the title sounds like a child’s play, and yes… it really is. But don’t worry, there are more layers than meets the eye.

Figura que representa maggie lendo um livro em uma mão e em outra ela tem uma barra de chocolate, ela está com cara de brava.

The book tells the story of Maggie, a girl living in Canada in 1939—that is, shortly after the end of World War II. The premise is simple but sweet: her best friend, Josephine, is about to have a birthday, and Maggie decides to give her a chocolate bar as a gift. But because of the war, the price has gone up from 5 cents to 8 cents. Doesn’t that seem like a small amount? Try being a kid and saving it with pennies…

To do this, she decides to help her father, who owns a grocery store. Maggie delivers by bike (someone give this girl a little star!) and tries to save up for the gift. But things don’t go as planned—she has an accident, breaks some eggs, and loses 25 cents. So, you get the gist: guilt, drama, financial hardship, and parents who weren’t exactly relaxed about it.

The most interesting thing is how the book blends this personal drama with the social context: newspapers reporting protests, parents complaining about the cost of living, and… the children organizing too. Yes, there’s a children’s protest—and that’s when everything takes on a more political tone, yet still accessible and lighthearted.

Jo’s birthday is approaching, Maggie is struggling, and the two end up getting upset because of their limited time together. And meanwhile, the children (including the two of them) organize for the next protests. And it’s not just a joke, you know? At the end, the book also includes photos and real historical notes on how, at that time, children were used as a way to draw attention to political and economic causes.

At several points, Maggie finds herself being judged for being a merchant’s daughter—as if it were all her fault. I found this powerful and intriguing. The author makes us reflect on social class and inequality without losing the tenderness of the story. Is it worth reading?

Very much so. It’s a short, simple, and straightforward book, but it leaves us with that warm feeling in our hearts—and perhaps a slight discomfort in our stomachs, like when we remember that childhood wasn’t always synonymous with innocence.

And that’s it, my lost friends. Now I’m going to exchange my books at the library and see what else I can find. If you have any reading suggestions, you know what: send them over!

Thanks!