Earlier this summer, as rabbits darted up and down the park near my sublet and red cardinals, unafraid of the humans they soared above, pecked at nuts and berries people tossed at them during their lunch breaks, I started thinking about Animorphs again. In 7th grade, I devoured the series with an intensity only reserved for the most seminal books of my childhood. I watched the short-lived TV adaptation under the covers in my grandmother's spare room and kept my class's copy of The Invasion (Book #1) at home for an entire year because I really liked the lenticular cover. But it was always an isolated affair — maybe because I hoarded that only copy to myself, most likely because our teachers were encouraging us to graduate to The Hunger Games and The Fault in Our Stars, and I eventually shelved Animorphs with other books that I loved but felt like I was rapidly outgrowing.

You can never really outgrow books, is what I've learned since then. Animorphs, with its deceptively bizzare covers and digestible paperback form, contained a laundry list of complex themes that covered war, violence, body dysmorphia, genocide, torture, cannibalism, imperialism, body horror, child soldiers, morality, suicide, bloodlust...and etcetera for an audience of 8-12 year olds. Reading it once as a pre-teen doesn't do it justice. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that there's been somewhat of a pandemic-spurred Animorphs renaissance lately (Google 'rereading animorphs' and all the headlines are bound to be like wtf were we reading back then), and it wasn't hard to fall back into this crazy world of alien wars and children with secret powers.

While the series sold over 35 million copies, it never really entered the cultural mainstream along with some of its more famous contemporaries, like Harry Potter and Goosebumps. In 2011, Scholastic relaunched the series with lenticular covers to replace the uncanny yet charming art on the original books (created by artist David B. Mattingly) and updated cultural references here and there in hopes of drawing in 'a whole new generation of readers'. The project fizzled out after 7-8 books and was cancelled due to low sales. No new prints have circulated since then. Fortunately, there are online versions floating around on the internet (and K.A. Applegate herself has allegedly okayed this), but I stubbornly wanted to get ahold of the physical copies and figured that it shouldn't be too hard to find them at the local library.

Like many of the series' 8-12 year old readers, I didn't have a car, so I slipped on a pair of walking shoes and pocketed my CharlieCard.

Keep an eye out for the best — and weirdest — covers.

Most — if not all — public library networks have systems in place to help patrons acquire the books they want to read. Interlibrary loans fill the gaps between libraries, and patrons are encouraged to suggest purchases to enrich or diversify collections. Alternative mediums like ebooks and audiobooks offer convenience and a broader selection. Essentially, a library card places a world of literature at your fingertips.

Still, an incomplete set is inconvenient at best, and discouraging at worst. It impedes first-time readers from blazing through the books serendipitously and diminishes their prominence on the shelves. "It's a perfect storm, right? It's an older series, it's not in demand or circulating much, and if our distributor doesn't sell them anymore, we're more likely to prioritize books that are circulating, since we have a limited budget," said Tamar Siegel, a children's librarian at the Medford Public Library. "As for the random selection, well, someone might have donated just these books, or a few might have slipped through the cracks over time as people lose or forget to return them, and unfortunately we didn't have enough of an incentive to repurchase the missing books."

It's not impossible to get your hands on the entire series, but it does take some work. "My hope is that kids are curious enough ask us librarians or their parents for help," she continued. "If the books are in a library somewhere, we will do our absolute best to get them for you."

If there's anything my trip around the Massachusetts libraries taught me, it's that children's books are never really just children's books, but rather a kaleidoscope of meaning that you parse through differently each time you read them. Coincidentally, I was browsing on Goodreads a couple of days ago and found this impassioned (and slightly embarrassing) review left by a 13 year old me. Maybe it's true that some things will never change.