On the wind-swept plains of 1950s Nebraska, nine-year-old Jeb Wilder wages a campaign against the boredom that stretches longer than summer days, fends off local bullies, and navigates the uneasy terrain of a family coming apart at the seams. In The Round Prairie Wars, Aden Ross turns these small, familiar struggles into something much larger—a portrait of a childhood shaped by the echoes of distant conflicts.
As Jeb makes sense of her own “wars” at home, the shadow of World War II and the Cold War’s anxious hum linger in the background.
Jeb and Sam, her older brother, play games pretending to be pilots in a crippled WWII dive bomber in an imaginary unit they call “back-to-back.” This metaphor exemplifies their reliance on one another whenever they escape their confined, impoverished life in their small trailer house called Prairie Schooner.
Stories of war grip the parents as much as their children. When the family attends an outdoor showing of The Day the Earth Stood Still, the film acts as a litmus test for the parents’ fears, revealing deep ideological fissures running through their home.
The family’s first Sunday at a Methodist church leaves young Jeb confused and heartbroken at the perversion of the pulpit.
This institution that Jeb had trusted to spearhead faith and hope unmasks itself as a platform for political fear-mongering and hypocrisy. The Reverend’s sermon is less a theological lesson than a diatribe against “godless communists.” Jeb can only seek moral and intellectual guidance elsewhere.
Jeb’s new sanctuary is a place of freedom and acceptance, where books provide truth beyond any sermon.
One such book carries a familiar smell. It reminds Jeb of her brother’s paranoid warning about a key figure in their life who can build far more than just bicycles. Sam’s words cease to be a childish theory and now become a chilling possibility that leaves Jeb unable to trust the assumptions of her small, fragile world. She begins to wonder if the real enemies aren’t out there among the communists, or even the local bullies, but are instead much closer to home.
Ross builds this vivid, complex world upon a deep foundation of metaphor.
The characters are well-hewn individuals, embodying nuanced themes around the ideological civil war of 1950s America. They not only experience their own immediate struggles but are vessels of pain inherited from history, family, and societal trauma—often without being fully understood. The world of the novel is anything but simple, and these characters help chart the complex, universal forces every child must decipher along the path to adulthood.
Ross’s exploration of the Cold War era through the lens of a young child makes the sprawling anxieties of the time into something intimate, tangible, and terrifyingly powerful.
She grounds the story in a confined space with barely any escape from family tensions. This domestic stage plays out the nation’s conflict, where ideological battles and personal trauma clash in whispered arguments.
The Round Prairie Wars by Aden Ross speaks with a voice burdened by echoes from the past. A testament to childhood caught in the gears of history, Jeb’s story honors conflict lived not in headlines but in the hushed, terrified, and wonderfully resilient hearts that endure it. The perfect read for those who cherish history from the ground up, as well as those who seek to capture the true sense of a time of personal and societal uncertainty.


Set against the backdrop of Prohibition and Pancho Villa’s waning reign of terror, Sarita by Natalie Musgrave Dossett combines a page-turning western adventure and the coming-of-age of a bold young woman.








Inspired by a true story, Catherine Mathis’s incredible novel, 





