Booksology If you’ve ever finished a book and just sat there thinking, “I don’t know what I would have done in that situation,” The 57 Bus is very much that kind of read.
It’s nonfiction, but it unfolds with the intimacy of a novel, following one terrible decision and the ripple effects it had on two teenagers who never should have become headline news.
The story centers on Sasha and Richard, two kids from very different worlds who happened to share the same public bus in Oakland. Sasha, who is white, identified as agender and used they/them pronouns.
One of the things I really appreciated about this book is how clearly and calmly it explains LGBTQ+ terms and identities.
There’s no assumption that the reader already knows the language, and no judgment if you don’t.
It’s informative without ever feeling like a lecture; by the end, those “labels” feel less like abstractions and more like necessary tools for understanding real people.
Richard, a Black teenage boy, made a devastatingly stupid choice when he set Sasha’s skirt on fire as a joke. He admitted almost immediately that he didn’t think through the consequences.
At first, the incident wasn’t charged as a hate crime. That changed only after it became known that Sasha identified as agender. That moment — when intent and impact collide — is one of the most thought-provoking parts of the book.
What makes The 57 Bus so compelling is that Dashka Slater refuses to flatten either teen into a villain or a victim stereotype. Sasha is thoughtful, curious, and deeply shaken, both physically and emotionally.
Richard is immature, impulsive, and shaped by instability and poor guidance — but also capable of reflection.
When he is tried as an adult, the book asks hard questions about race, punishment, and how quickly young people — especially Black boys — are written off by the justice system.
The ending is where this book really surprised me. Instead of stopping at sentencing, it explores healing through restorative justice, including facilitated dialogue and restorative justice conferencing.
Sasha’s participation in therapy and restorative justice work shows that accountability doesn’t have to mean only punishment. It can also mean facing harm honestly and working toward repair, even when forgiveness isn’t simple or guaranteed.
This isn’t an easy book, but it’s an incredibly human one. It invites you to sit with discomfort, rethink assumptions, and consider what justice might look like if it centered healing as much as consequences.
Content warnings: This book discusses violence, severe burns, trauma, hate crimes, incarceration, and the criminal justice system. While not graphic, the emotional weight is significant.
The 57 Bus is the kind of book that sparks long conversations — and lingers with you long after you close it.
