The best of this month’s books for children and young adults

"Sometimes my cat can be difficult to please" is a sentiment all feline-owners can relate to, and in Simon Philip and Ella Bailey's I Don't Know What To Call My Cat! (Simon and Schuster, £6.99) this extends to finding an appropriate name for a sly and mischievous creature. Although the text is quite simple, the often busy illustrations reward close attention – always pleasing for books that are likely to be read over and over again.

The beautiful seascapes of Jessica Courtney-Tickle's The Unexpected Visitor (Egmont, £6.99) make this debut a visual treat, although the conversations between the "little fisherman" and his new friend, a giant whale, are a little too preachy. "You took more fish than you needed. That was greedy," the whale chastises, eventually prompting the boy to seek out other fishermen and agree they will all "take only what they need". Have we all learned a valuable lesson today, boys and girls?

A tendency towards moralising is thankfully offset by humour in Matthew Morgan and Gabriel Alborozo's Thank Goodness For Bob (Egmont, £6.99). Max is a worrier, and the most relatable of all his worries – that no one likes him – is presented first, then followed up by increasingly more outrageous concerns, including alien abduction and disappearing down the plughole when he takes a bath. He's afraid to tell anyone about his worries, but Bob's a smart dog, encouraging Max to talk. "Out in the open" the worries (literally) bubble out and can be kicked away – and this potential oversimplification of anxiety is balanced out by noting that Max hasn't stopped worrying "completely". This is a self-help story done right.

Kristyna Litten's Norton and Alpha (Simon and Schuster, £6.99) features a robot and his dog (also robotic) who don't know quite what to do with a flower. After various experiments, they're no closer to identifying its purpose, so they throw it out – only to discover that it blossoms into a stunning, pull-out four-page spread of a beautiful garden. This exploration of technology versus art is subtly done, with richly textured illustrations.

A long-standing and award-winning member of the Irish children's book world, Jane Mitchell often writes about the most vulnerable in our society. Her latest novel, A Dangerous Crossing (Little Island, €9.99), is told from the perspective of a Syrian refugee. Thirteen-year-old Ghalib – named, like all the characters, after real Syrian children who've died – must flee his increasingly terrifying home country. This journey has been incredibly well researched, and Amnesty International has endorsed the book. As a story, it is sometimes frustrating – travelling with his family, Ghalib makes very few decisions for himself, and his personal conflicts are resolved too quickly– but it certainly succeeds in its goal to inform and induce empathy in its readers.

"I'm standing in history, right now. I guess we always are." This apt comment comes from Fliss, the teenage narrator of Juno Dawson's Margot & Me (Hot Key Books, £7.99), whose grandmother, Margot, is a nightmare to live with, but whose diaries from wartime Wales are captivating (and even a bit racy). The often-flippant tone and pop-culture references make this feel like a breezy read – which means that when the serious issues (including teen pregnancy, illness and grief) come along, they pack all the more powerful a punch.

Another superb teenage-girl voice can be found in Lisa Williamson's second novel, All About Mia (David Fickling Books, £10.99). "My fondness for getting drunk is one of my trademarks," Mia announces on page one, establishing herself as the kind of cool party girl more likely to be an antagonist than protagonist in YA fiction. And in many ways, Mia – the middle child with two gifted sisters – is her own worst enemy. She wants to be treated like an adult, even as she's behaving immaturely; she's both mature enough to recognise this and childish enough to keep doing it anyway.

When Mia’s perfect older sister returns home pregnant, it prompts even more bad behaviour, putting Mia’s friendships and safety at risk. The resolution occasionally leans towards the saccharine, with an earnest apology from her mother about Mia’s status within the family, but for the most part this is an authentic, compelling and relatable read about a girl who’s never felt quite good enough.

Between them, Sarah Crossan and Brian Conaghan have won every major award for young adult literature in the UK, so it should be no surprise that their collaboration, We Come Apart (Bloomsbury, £12.99) has been eagerly anticipated. The dual-narrative approach for love stories is a popular trope in YA, but Crossan and Conaghan add another layer by writing theirs in free verse. This proves particularly effective at rendering the broken English of the Romanian immigrant Nicu, who notes: "English is the tough watermelon to crack,/a strange language with many weird wordings."

After he’s caught stealing a chocolate bar, Nicu meets the brash and troubled Londoner Jess on a reparation scheme for shoplifters and other young offenders. The difference in their treatment by the authorities is telling, but never spelled out for the reader.

Both teenagers have problems at home. Nicu’s parents are planning his marriage to a girl “back home” he’s never met, but all he wants to do is stay in England, despite the racist abuse now reinforced by Brexit. Jess’s stepfather is emotionally and physically abusive, making Jess complicit in his violence towards her mother. Their friendship and then love gives them strength – but can it last? The title might give a clue.

With two distinct character voices that leap off the page, and the authors’ empathy for teenagers in tough situations, this is a hopeful song of a novel.

Claire Hennessy is a writer, editor and creative-writing facilitator