Book Review: The Good Lie by Robin Brande

This book challenged me emotionally and intellectually. I'm going to start off by saying I did not like this story, because it made me extremely uncomfortable, which is why I'm going to highly recommend that you read it. Read it now. It is a brilliant, nuanced novel about a religious girl who deals with issues outside of and at odds with her religious experience.  I thought the author did an amazing job of both respecting religion through her main character's eyes while at the same time laying bare it's glaring weaknesses. It's a book that poses more questions than it answers.

A brief synopsis: Lizzie Aimes is living her life as a normal sixteen-year-old Christian teen. She's a good student, she loves her family (especially her little 8 year old brother) and is trying to live her religion despite her sexual desires and a massive crush on a certain boy, who seems set on sleeping his way through the school's female population. Up until the night of her prom, that was her biggest problem. In the weeks and months following, Lizzie life begins unravelling in all the worst ways imaginable, culminating in her need to tell "the good lie."

While it is a novel about a deeply religious girl, this is not a religious book. There are a lot of girls like Lizzie in the world. So many times I wanted to yell at Lizzie for her actions or inactions. But having been a conservative religious teen myself, and remembering certain situations I encountered that were outside my religious training, I can understand the moral quandary and torpor she finds herself in.

As I continue to ponder this book, a week after I read it, the biggest issue that I find myself circling back to again and again, is sexual repression. It is one of the most dangerous by-products of religion, in that it creates an atmosphere ripe for pedophilia to thrive in the religious world, as too many children have found out. It takes away children's voices; since they're never allowed to talk about sex, they don't have the words or knowledge of how to report abuse. One of the major themes of The Good Lie is that dichotomy of sexual repression and the conservatively religious teaching/drilling of sexual abstinence and purity of mind and body when it bumps up against the harsh reality of world scenarios, and how damaging it can be for women and children. 

So, go read this book and be challenged.

 

(Be aware that this book is for mature readers. It contains profanity and frank language regarding sexual functions and situations, and pedophilia. While none of it feels gratuitous, it can be shocking.) 

Sometimes the Movie Is Better Than the Book

We book lovers can be very vocal in our defense of beloved books and downright scornful of any attempt at reinterpreting an author's work. In this post I won't go into the irritated befuddlement I feel over a really bad interpretation, in which they (meaning Hollywood) ruin a delightful story (Ella Enchanted - 2004) or change the story so much that the book seems to have been used only for its title and a few very basic story elements (Cheaper By the Dozen - 2003, Mr. Popper's Penguin's - 2011.)

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes the movie maestros make a movie that is as good as the book, even when they change a few elements of the original story. (I'm thinking of Lord of the Rings and the BBC's Wives and Daughters.)

On a rare occasion, the movie is better than the book, although admittedly this might not be the same for everyone. Here are a few movies that in my subjective opinion surpassed the books on which they were based:

1. BBC's North and South (2004) - based on Elizabeth Gaskell's novel of the same title.

While I like the book, the TV serial is so much better, and the characters much more realistic, less wooden, and it gives the main characters a worthy, swoon-inducing reconciliation, while the novel's scene of reconciliation is incredibly anti-climactical and boring.

2. The Magic of Ordinary Days - based on Ann Howard Creel's novel of the same title.

I just couldn't like this book. I wanted to and fully expected to because I loved the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie. It just didn't happen. The main character was annoying, snobby, whiny, selfish, uncompassionate and she didn't improve. And the man she marries has the personality of a wet dishrag. I think the book suffers from want of some serious editing, and too often the author goes into annoying, long history lessons. The movie, on the other hand, has a marvelous screenplay, having removed the junk from the book and cut it down to the basic story: a pregnant, cultured, smart, standoffish young woman makes a marriage of convenience with a Colorado farmer during World War II. His simple ways and quiet devotion to their marriage and the coming baby (which is not his) teach her some much-needed lessons in compassion and unconditional love.

3. The Princess Bride - based on William Goldman's novel of the same title.

The movie is much more charming, swashbuckling, adventurous, interesting, and humorous than the book, and it gave us fabulous quotes to spout: "When I was your age, television was called books." "Inconceivable!" "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." "They're kissing again. Do we have to read the kissing parts?" "My way's not very sportsman-like." I didn't dislike the book, I just felt that the movie made the story better; it cut out all the superfluous.

4. The Last of the Mohicans - the 1992 film based on James Fennimore Cooper's book.

This lush production is very different -more intense, exciting, romantic - than the 1826 novel, thank goodness. I've tried to read this book for years and each time I give up out of intense boredom. I'm content with just enjoying this movie version.

 

What movies are on your better-than-the-book list?

Book Review: Shadows by Robin McKinley

Synopsis from the publisher: Maggie knows something’s off about Val, her mom’s new husband. Val is from Oldworld, where they still use magic, and he won’t have any tech in his office-shed behind the house. But—more importantly—what are the huge, horrible, jagged, jumpy shadows following him around? Magic is illegal in Newworld, which is all about science. The magic-carrying gene was disabled two generations ago, back when Maggie’s great-grandmother was a notable magician. But that was a long time ago.

Then Maggie meets Casimir, the most beautiful boy she has ever seen. He’s from Oldworld too—and he’s heard of Maggie’s stepfather, and has a guess about Val’s shadows. Maggie doesn’t want to know . . . until earth-shattering events force her to depend on Val and his shadows. And perhaps on her own heritage.

In this dangerously unstable world, neither science nor magic has the necessary answers, but a truce between them is impossible. And although the two are supposed to be incompatible, Maggie’s discovering the world will need both to survive.

Some authors' books are automatic buys for me. Robin McKinley is one such author.

The story is set in a contemporary-ish, maybe future-ish alternate earth- a world that in many ways is familiar to the modern reader, but contains plenty of the unfamiliar. I was confused for awhile about the workings of the world of Shadows. McKinley uses unfamiliar words for things that aren't well-described at first. Only bit by bit does the reader glean the inner workings of the world in which Maggie, the main character, lives. I still don't feel like I have a complete handle on it.

McKinley writes people well. None of her characters succumbed to archetypical portrayals. They were all authentic, real, relatable people. I liked the slightly scattered but grounded voice of Maggie, the main character, who is trying to find her place in the world and in her family, now that her mom has married a man Maggie completely distrusts. She doesn't, strangely, seem to be thinking about the future. (I say "strangely" because she is in her last year of high school.) All her concerns are with the present, maybe because her stepfather and his shadows are seriously creeping her out and messing with her worldview. The stream-of-conscious narration was a little confusing at times, and I had to keep going back to reread passages because I felt like I had missed or misunderstood something. But as irritating as it could be, it also loaned authenticity to Maggie's teenage self.

I also like how she tied up the story, but left plenty of room for imagining what would come next for these people.

*This post originally published on October 2, 2013

A Dictionary For Book-Loving Kids (and Adults)

Book lovers tend to love dictionaries and also tend to have a few different copies lying around the house. (Our current number is five. I know. It might be a sickness.)  But a dictionary that contains a plethora of quotes from children's literature to help define the words? Guaranteed to become an instant favorite. Merriam-Webster's Elementary Dictionary (for kids aged 8 through 12 years) was an instant hit with my girls when they saw that quotes from books they've read and loved are used to help provide context for the definitions. This book never stays shelved. I find it lying all over the house. As a book-loving, book-pushing mom, this makes me so happy.


*This post originally published on August 17, 2013

Book Review: Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature by Robin Brande

For those who haven’t read the book, here’s a very brief synopsis: Mena, an Evangelical Christian on the outs with her own Church, for reasons not made clear at first, starts high school as a social outcast, but getting assigned to Ms. Shepard’s biology class starts to change her world.

The book deals with themes of evolution vs. creationism, bullying, and prejudice. I was fascinated with Mena’s character growth in this very readable book. Sadly, I can foresee some Creationist-minded Christians trying to get this book banned from school libraries, which would be a shame, because Brande created characters who are ethical, caring, interesting and realistically normal at the same time. Some other reviewers on GoodReads have complained about the one dimensional characters of the religious kids, when the reality is that the attitudes and behavior displayed by the religious kids makes them seem pretty one dimensional, just as it does in real life when people behave similarly. Having witnessed first hand the mass ignorance and bad behavior displayed by so-called "intelligent" design (aka Creationism) fans toward those who disagree with them, I found the book very realistic in its portrayal of the characters and situation. (And yes, I'm aware that the situation could be reversed as well, but that has not been my experience.)

The part I thought wasn’t fleshed out well was Mena’s relationship with her parents.  She obviously loves them, but never seems to question why they wouldn’t support her or show more empathy toward her. Surrounded as she was by hate and vitriol on all sides, I’m surprised she seemed so calm (relatively speaking) and accepting.

*This post was originally published June 23, 2013

Book Review: Tales From the Brothers Grimm and the Sisters Weird by Vivian Vande Velde

My nine year old daughter found this in the Junior Fiction section of the library. She tossed it disgustedly on the return pile a few days later, saying, "This book is dumb. I don't like the way the author redid the fairy tales." Since she's not a big fan of fairy tales anyway, I decided to read it to see if she was right, or if she just didn't appreciate it because of the genre.

The answer, I found, is a little of both. After reading this compilation of "twisted" fairy tales (and it's a quick read) it's clear to me that the book has been wrongly placed in the library: it isn't a book for the 8-12 age range, unless you've got a kid who's ahead of his/her years, irony-wise. The cultural references, dark humor, and general irreverence are more suited for teens and adults. The stories themselves are well-written, and amusing in places, (and secretly echo some adults' feelings about certain iconic fairy tales) but for the most part, I myself couldn't work up much enthusiasm over them. But I can definitely see a more appreciative audience out there for it.

*Originally published on June 14, 2013

Book Review: Tiger Lily by Jodi Lynn Anderson

I should start this review with two confessions:

• I never read the original Peter Pan by J.M Barrie. But I have seen the stage play and of course I've seen Disney's version.
• I have an aversion to spin-off books/fan fiction.

You probably know where this is going. 

I think fan fiction authors tread dangerous waters when they twist another author's story and characters to their own devices, especially such an iconic story as Peter Pan. They open themselves up to much more criticism than normal. But they've walked the gangplank, so to speak, and thus have to swim with the crocodiles.

Let's take a look at some of the basics of Tiger Lily: 

• Neverland, in this incarnation, is an island that is magically hidden, and only a few find their way there over the ocean. But that seems to be the only magical thing about it. Everything about it, including the fairies, are discussed in Darwinian terms: the island and its inhabitants just evolved to be the way they are. That not bad, just a complete departure from the original story. (There's no flying to Neverland in this book.) 
• Tinkerbell plays the mute, bug-eating, Tiger-Lily-fan-girl, non fairy-dust-toting narrator. She spends most of her time in Tiger Lily's village and has watched Tiger Lily grow up. Peter only meets her when he meets Tiger Lily, whom he's apparently meeting for the first time as a teenager. But despite Tinkerbell's muteness, she can apparently see into other people's minds.
• Tinkerbell talks about the random cessation of growth associated with Neverland. For some reason the pirates are aging, maybe because they sailed there from England as adults? But the natives on the island stop aging at some random point in time. It doesn't appear to be consistent, and the idea is left hanging as an inexplicable element of the island.
• The main characters, Peter and Tiger Lily are much older than the original, being about 15 or 16 years old, with all the sexual tension that entails. Which feels weird to read, when some of the same things are happening to them as happened in the original story. Peter comes across as  angst-ridden, emotional yo-yo: an innocent bad boy, which sometimes doesn't come across well, given his age in this story. Tiger Lily is the adopted daughter of the trans-gendered shaman of the tribe, taciturn, serious, doesn't show her feelings, and finds it hard to empathize with people, yet truly loves her adopted father. We never really learn what makes her tick. She remains somewhat a mystery throughout the book. Wendy is portrayed as the vapid, boyfriend-stealing wench. Smee is a sociopathic killer, obsessed with Tiger Lily. The whole tone of the book is darker, and the characters are flawed and mostly compelling, which I don't see as a problem, per say, but they just don't reconcile with the original characters. 
• There is an additional element of magic that is never explained in the book, that exacts revenge on Tiger Lily's enemies. We never learn if it is Tiger Lily herself that causes their destruction, or someone else, or some island magic at work.
• I would actually have really liked how Tiger Lily's story ended (it makes sense to me, as a married, middle-aged woman with reality, and real love, firmly under my belt) if it weren't for the fact that Pine Sap, the man she marries, her childhood best friend, is deserving of a woman who is emotionally present for him, especially after his abusive childhood. It seems sad to me that in marrying Tiger Lily, he marries a woman as equally emotionally distant as his own mother, although less abusive. It still smacks a little too much of an abuse cycle, although the author keeps insisting that he is very emotionally healthy. If Tiger Lily had shown signs of being different for her experiences, I'd feel better, but as far as the reader can make out, she's still the same old emotionally distant Tiger Lily, pining for Peter Pan.  I don't like Peter's ending.

On the positive side, Jodi Lynn Anderson is a good word weaver, if only the words weren't about iconic characters from an iconic story, most of whom have already been fully formed in peoples minds. If you haven't read Barrie's original, or seen the play, nor feel any loyalty to the original, you will probably like the book. My issues with the book stem entirely from the fact that it's fan fiction. My feeling is, don't mess with a classic. It's not yours to mess with. But I may be in the minority on that issue.

Published in 2012 by HarperCollins Children's Books

Review copy borrowed from the library.

What say you? Are you a fan of fan fiction or do you not want your classics messed with?

Christmas Favorites: A New Coat For Anna

A New Coat For Anna
Written by Harriet Ziefert
Illustrated by Anita Lobel

Based on a true story that takes place just after World War II, in an unnamed European town, A New Coat For Anna is the story of how young Anna's determined, enterprising mother, who doesn't have the money to buy Anna the coat she needs, uses the few fine posessions she has left to barter for the goods and services she needs to make Anna's new coat. She trades with the farmer for his sheeps' wool; she trades with the spinner to spin it to yarn; she trades with the weaver to weave the cloth; she trades with the tailor to sew the coat. The whole process takes a year, and Anna and her mother have to participate in the coat's creation too (carding the wool and dying the yarn using lingonberries.) After the coat is finished, just in time for Christmas of the next year, Anna and her mother invite all the people who helped make Anna's new coat possible to a Christmas celebration.

The wonderful, plentiful illustrations by Anita Lobel are perfect for the story, providing enough detail of each stage of the coat's genesis for modern children to understand and feel the work that went into it.

I deeply appreciate that this book gives children an insight into true hardship and inventiveness under trying conditions, without resorting to preachiness. My daughters and I love this story. It's a favorite reread at any time of the year, but especially at Christmas.



Published in 1986 by Random House Children's Books

Christmas Favorites: The Story of Holly & Ivy

The Story of Holly & Ivy
Written by Rumer Godden
Illustrated by Barbara Cooney

Loneliness and wishing are the themes of this magical classic Christmas story, first published in 1957. Ivy is a lonely orphan wishing for a place to belong. Holly is a doll in Mr. Blossom's toy shop, dressed in Christmas red and green, wishing to find her little girl, fearful of being put into storage with the mean owl Abracadabra because she hasn't been sold this Christmas. Childless Mrs. Jones aches for something she almost doesn't allow herself to wish for. How these three wishes converge and are fulfilled during this wishing time of year make for a riveting story that never feels dated because it touches on themes that are universal to the human condition. This touching story is made more poignant by Barbara Cooney's dreamy, luminous illustrations, of which there are not enough, in my opinion.

I loved this story when I was a girl, and I'm so pleased my girls love it too. This is the first year Susanna sat through the whole reading of this long picture book.

Book Review: Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes by Eleanor Coerr; illustrated by Ronald Himler

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes is a short book that packs an emotional wallop through it's simple narrative. It is the true story of Sadako Sasaki, who was only two years old when the atom bomb fell on her city of Hiroshima, Japan. Now it is nine years later, and she discovers that she has the "atom bomb disease" (leukemia).

The book doesn't focus on any political message, nor does it focus on the war. It is simply the story of a young girl dealing with her own sickness and death, as a result of an event she herself doesn't remember. Nevertheless, this is a tough book for kids and one that sparks discussions about a myriad of topics: war, war on civilians, atomic bombs, cancer, family support during sickness, whether children are trusted with information about their own illness, hope or lack of hope, myths and legends on which people pin their hopes, death, fear of death. And yes, one comes away with a very anti-war feeling of one's own.

I borrowed Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes from the library to read aloud as part of our world history study. Olivia took it off the stack and read it herself before I had the chance to read it aloud. She soon came back with lots of questions. That sparked Karina's curiosity in the book, so she took it off to read. Much, much discussion ensued on all the topics mentioned previously. (Our copy was the original hardcover, pictured to the right, which contains a brief prologue and epilogue. I understand that later versions also contain discussion points. I wish we'd had that version, but we sure managed tons of discussion that sprang naturally from reading the story, even without a guide.)

I suspect this is a story my girls will forever remember.

Karina's response to my query about her reaction to the book was simple, but she takes longer to process thoughts than Olivia. She said: I thought it was really sad, but really good.

Olivia said:

This is a really sad book, but really worth reading. Until I read Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, I didn't even know America had dropped bombs on Japan during World War Two. It made me sad to think of so many people being killed or infected because of it. The story is good. I loved it. I loved that it was about a real girl. And the pictures helped me to understand some things about the story. I liked the legend of the thousand paper cranes, even though they didn't help Sadako. In the end they did help her since the sight of them moving gently on the breeze gave her comfort as she died. I kept hoping she'd get better, but I realized pretty soon that she just wasn't. I'd definitely recommend it. It's one I'd read again. I think this is a book teachers should read to their students. Warning: reading this book will make you cry, especially the end, so read it with a tissue handy. Don't be afraid of crying; you won't regret reading Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes.

Published in 1977 by G.P. Putnam's Sons
Review copy borrowed from the library.

Book Review: Dangerously Ever After by Daska Slater; illustrated by Valeria Docampo

If you're the mother of little girls, you're probably going to encounter princesses at some point in your reading repertoire. This can be delightful or painful, depending on how the author chooses to portray said princesses. The delightful ones get reread with enthusiasm, and the painful, simpering, irritating ones get quietly "lost" in whatever manner deemed necessary.
Never fear, Dangerously Ever After by Dashka Slater and Valeria Docampo will be in the enthusiastically reread category, with no pain involved.

Princess Amanita is not your average princess. She loves all things dangerous, and her garden would make Morticia Addams proud. And then...

"One day, as the princess was watering a patch of itching thistles, a prince from a neighboring kingdom rode up. His name was Florian and he was out looking for for a dragon to slay, or a knight to challenge--or at least someone his own age to talk to."

The prince's arrival sets off a chain of funny events that culminate in the character growth of the princess (and undoubtedly of the young prince, too.)

My girls and I chuckled our way through the appealing absurdity of this refreshingly non-girly princess story. It appealed to my younger princess-loving daughters, and even my older princess-loathing daughter. I can see this being a hit with boys, too, because the traditional princess aspect isn't present. (It will help that the word doesn't feature in the title, but the word "danger" does.) All kids can identify with danger-loving Princess Amanita in some aspect, because at its heart, Dangerously Ever After is the story of a little girl whose way of identifying herself is called into question when she encounters events outside her comfort zone and control, which leads to growth and balance. That sounds heavy, doesn't it? But really that "lesson" is just naturally absorbed into the story.

This is the first book I've read by Dashka Slater, and I'm delighted with the introduction. The story's pacing, language, and length work beautifully as a read-aloud, perfect for ages 4/5 and up. It's one of the few picture books we've read that appeals to all my girls with equal enthusiasm. The illustrations by Valeria Docampo are a delight. Beautiful, vibrant, and fun, they perfectly highlight and compliment the text. The artist's heavy use of blue keeps the fierceness of Amanita's world in check. My girls loved the scorpion tail inspired hair-do, the suit-of-armour dresses, the prince's steed (a bicycle), and the strangely appealing garden.

For what it's worth, my girls and I are giving Dangerously Ever After a hearty thumbs up.



Published in Semptember 2012 by Dial Books For Young Readers
Review copy generously supplied by publisher.

Nominated for the CYBILS 2012 by Charlotte of Charlotte's Library.

Book Review: The Eyes of the Amaryllis by Natalie Babbitt

I beg your indulgence as I set up this review a little, so you can understand the frame of mind I came to The Eyes of the Amaryllis with. My family moved to The Gambia the summer after I turned nine, and there for the first time I met the mystery and power of the sea. It was such a new experience that we glutted ourselves with beach-going several times a week. When my parents wouldn't take us, my older brother and I would cycle to the beach off of the Sunwing Hotel to hunt in tide pools and estuaries at low tide. I loved the ocean - the moods, the sounds, the smells; but I learned to fear it too.  A few months after we moved to The Gambia, our next door neighbor's son, a big, strapping, friendly lad of fourteen, drowned in the ocean. It was shocking and horrifying, the suddenness and manner of his death.

In July after I turned eleven I had my own near-drowning experience. I went swimming off the beach at the American Ambassador's residence during a Fourth of July community picnic, and got caught in the undertow. I got carried a long way out, and couldn't get back in because of the force of the undertow. There were some young Peace Corps Volunteers swimming nearby, but I didn't even have the energy to call to them for help. I faced the terrifying reality that I was probably going to die because there was no way I could muster the energy to try swimming again. I alternated treading water and floating on my back, contemplating death and thinking that I didn't want to die like my poor neighbor friend. I hated the thought of what it would do to my family. Fortunately for me, one of those Peace Corps volunteers could apparently tell I was in trouble, even though I hadn't spoken. "Getting tired?" he asked quietly as he swam up to me. I nodded my head and he put his hand under my armpit. "The undertow's bad today. I'm going to show you how to beat it. Let's swim this way." Swimming by my side, we swam parallel with the beach for a little way, and then he lead us in at an angle. That man saved my life. I was too tired to do more than whisper a thank you when we made the beach. He went off with a little wave and a "You'll be alright now", as I lay heaving on the sand, and I didn't see him again that day, even though I looked for him. I never even learned his name, but I'm alive today because he came along. (I didn't tell my parents of my near-death for years, out of fear that they'd ban me from ocean-swimming. In college I became a lifeguard, and then a life guard instructor and first aid and CPR instructor in an attempt to "pass it on.")

It was a year or so later, when I was twelve I think, that I first encountered The Eyes of the Amaryllis by Natalie Babbitt in the Banjul American Embassy School's library. Written in 1977, it was the first book I read by Natalie Babbitt. There were a couple of her other books on the shelf, but this one sounded the most intriguing, so I read it first. I was instantly captivated by the atmospheric, mysterious story that seemed to capture the hypnotic pull of the sea. It struck me powerfully at the time, I think because of my cumulative experiences with the ocean, and because I, like Jenny in the story, had grandmothers I didn't know very well.

The story takes place in 1880, when eleven year old Jenny (whose real name is Geneva) is being taken to stay with her paternal grandmother, the first Geneva, who has broken her foot and needs help until it mends. Jenny's Gran lives on a bluff in a bay on the Atlantic coast, in the same house she came to fifty years before as a bride.

"To be away from home--to stay with Gran and help her while her ankle mended--this seemed a very grownup thing to do, and Jenny had boasted about it to her friends. But in truth she was a little alarmed about that part, though her grandmother, whom she had seen before only for two weeks of the yearly Christmas season, had long been a figure of romance to her. Gran was not like other grandmothers, smelling of starch or mothballs, depending on the time of the year, and spending their time watering their plants. Gran stood straight and proud. Her face and arms were sunburned. And though she talked and listened, there always seemed to be something else on her mind, something far more absorbing than Christmas conversation.
But Jenny did not care for household chores, and was not at all sure that somewhere in her lay hidden the makings of a bedside nurse. So it wasn't that part of her adventure that excited her. No, the real enticement was the ocean. But this she could not admit. She was the only one of her friends who had never been to the shore. Preposterous, when it was only thirty miles from Springfield! But her father had never let her come, had always refused to discuss it."

Jenny quickly bonds with her unusual Gran, and learns that Gran has been waiting for years for a gift from the sea, a gift from her dead husband. (Thirty years before, Gran's sea captain husband drowned when his ship, the Amaryllis, sank just off the coast of home in a storm, as his wife and child watched from the bluff in helpless horror.) Ever since, Gran has searched the beaches every day at high tide, no matter the time or weather for some memento. (That is, in fact, how she broke her foot.) Now Gran needs Jenny to be her eyes and legs on the beach, and continue the search. But there is another searcher, a mysterious man named Seward, who could not let such a gift be taken from the sea.

I won't tell you anymore. It's the perfect book to read this time of year, if you want a little spookiness.

Twelve year old me loved this book, and because I loved it, I went on to read Tuck Everlasting, which I also loved. I was loath to re-read it as an adult, lest it lose the magic. I'm happy to report, however, that it holds up to adult reading very well, and I caught nuances of the relationship between Gran and her son (Jenny's father) that I didn't fully understand at the time of my first reading, and understand Gran's obsession a little better now, too.


Published in 1977 by Farrar, Straus and Girouux.

Book Review: Letters To Leo by Amy Hest; illustrated by Julia Denos

Exuberant, opinionated Annie writes letters to her new dog Leo, that her father has allowed her to keep, despite his aversion to dogs. Through Annie's letters, which function as a diary of sorts, we see life through a fourth-grade girl's eyes. We learn that her mother died when she was very young, her father is apparantly worry-prone, and she's not liking fourth grade and her unsympathetic teacher (to whom she privately assigns some less than flattering nick-names). She longs to be back in third grade with her beloved teacher, Miss Meadows.

The charmingly simple pencil drawings by Julia Denos are a perfect pairing with the story, making it feel very age authentic.

Letters to Leo is a cute and sometimes quirky story, and a little irritating to this adult who is obviously not it's intended audience. It is an easy, quick read and not very challenging in terms of vocabulary. I personally found the idea of a ten-year-old writing letters to her dog a little too "precious". Annie herself is a tad irritating to me, but then again, so is my nine-year-old daughter when she exhibits some of the same traits. For example, Annie calls herself cheerful, but spends much of her letter-writing complaining and whining, which unfortunately I found very authentic, speaking as the mother of an endlessly complaining nine-year-old daughter. (Oops, did I say that? Not "endlessly" darling, just sometimes!)
Funny, a bit snide, there is much that kids (and adults) can relate to in Annie and her everyday struggles.

I wanted to see how my own daughters would respond to the book, so I asked them if they would read it. They both agreed. I didn't tell them anything about the book other than the fact it is about a girl roughly their age, writing letters to her dog. (Olivia was, at first, reluctant because of the orange cover. She hates the color orange. There's a nine-year-old for you. Oh, she's going to hate me!)

Olivia's take on the book:

"It was okay for an orange book. They really need to fix that! Annie was funny (I mean amusing, not odd) and she made me laugh. She's one of those girls who doesn't like school, so she complains a lot about it. I like dogs and I thought it would be more about Leo, but he really doesn't play a very big role, other than as an annoyance to Annie's father. I thought it was odd that she'd be writing to her dog, though. Isn't she a little old for that kind of thing?  And her writing instruction books for her dog? What is she...six? Hello, dogs can't read! And I never could figure out if Jean-Marie was her friend or not, even though Annie called her her best friend. She didn't act like Jean-Marie was her best friend. I liked the way she tries to get her Dad to fall in love just so she can get a baby sister (or brother.) THAT was funny."

Karina's take on the book:

"When it [the book] was funny, it was FUNNY! But it was sometimes boring, because she kept going on and on about school and all the bad things that happened to her. I liked it, but I wouldn't want to read it again. Can we get a dog?"

So there you have it: three opinions about Letters to Leo!



Amy Hest also wrote When Jessie Came Across the Sea (Illustrated by P.J. Lynch), a picture book we love.


Book published in March 2012 by Candlewick.
Review copy borrowed from library.

Book Review: Fanny by Holly Hobbie

We have a new, loved doll book we recently added to our collection. Holly Hobbie has written a book that this mom and her daughters can relate too, a story that will delight any creative little girl's heart, about a little girl who desperately wants a Connie doll just like her friends, but consistently and vehemently gets told no by her mother,

"Because I don't like the way Connie dolls look," said her mother. "They're just too...much."

Frustrated but resourceful, Fanny decides to make her own Connie doll. But when she's finished, the doll doesn't look anything like Connie. When her friends silently express their disapproval, Fanny banishes the doll to a dresser drawer. She ultimately has to decide which she cares about most: the doll or her friends' approval.

Despite the heavy sounding moral, the story is charming, not too "girly" and comes across as a joyful testament to a child's creativity and ultimate good sense.

(A bonus of buying the book is that it includes a Holly Hobbie illustrated paper doll to fasten together, as well as a blank one that your child can color and make thoroughly their own.)

Like Fanny's mom in the story, I too have refused to buy my daughters certain dolls, despite their popularity, due to their being too... much. Bratz dolls, for example. Yikes! I don't much like Barbies either, for their unrealistic proportions, but mostly due to the fact that their outfits have gotten excessively slutty in the last ten years. I spent the first few years of their lives assiduously keeping Barbies away from my young daughters, even going so far as to get rid of them when they received one as a birthday present. (Barbies as a gift for a two year old? Come on, people!) But life contains a certain amount of bowing to the inevitable. As they got older of course, they started encountering Barbies at other little girls' houses, and we went to my parents home on vacation and they encountered the Barbies my mom had saved from my youth. They were over the moon and went through a few months' phase of intense Barbie love, which has thankfully ceased. (To help myself not feel too nauseated over the thought of what I was allowing, I sought out the older Barbie clothes on Ebay, buying them in bulk, repairing when necessary, throwing away the more sluttish outfits I came across. I know. I'm intense about some things.)
Likewise, I know moms of boys who vowed to never allow their boys to play with guns, but boys (especially in playing with other boys) will turn anything into guns, and at some point you have to pick your line in the sand, and some lines are more movable than others. (For me: Barbies a reluctant, teeth-gritting "yes," Bratz "no.")

Book Review: Sophia's War: A Tale of the Revolution by Avi

Doesn't that gorgeous cover by Edel Rodriguez make you long to read this? It's the perfect cover for this story. (I have a "thing" for silhouettes on book covers. I don't know why, but I feel compelled to buy a book with silhouettes on the cover.)

If you have never read one of Avi's books, you really need to. He writes intelligent historical fiction for young people. He never dumbs down his books, and obviously works hard to be historically accurate.

In this complex, smart story Avi again tackles an aspect of the American Revolution. (He did it once before in The Fighting Ground, where the reader is swept along in thirteen-year-old Jonathon's passion to be part of the fighting, and then his rude awakening to the realities of being a soldier.) But this story isn't just a feminine version of The Fighting Ground. It's a completely different aspect of the war, written in a different kind of narrative.

 The story is broken up into two different time frames. Roughly the first half takes place in 1776 when Sophia Calderwood is twelve years old. Sophia and her parents fled their home in New York City when the British invaded. Sophia's adored older brother William joined the American troops fighting to keep the British out of the city. As the book opens in September of 1776, Sophia and her mother are returning on foot to New York to try to reclaim what they can of their lives. (For safety, Mr. Calderwood must return in secret later.) In an apple orchard on the outskirts of New York, they witness a young man of "dignified bearing" being led by British soldiers to a rope hanging from an apple tree, and Sophia watches in horror as the ladder is kicked away and the young man (who she later learns was Nathan Hale) is hanged.

Still reeling from that shock, they return to their home to find it looted of all their most costly possessions. As they begin the clean-up process, a small troop of British soldiers appears on their doorstep, looking for Mr. Calderwood and informing them they will be required to billet a British Officer. What follows is a tense time of eking out a living while boarding a British officer and pretending to be Loyalists. Sophia develops a reluctant crush on John Andre (oh curse Blogger's lack of language accents!) the British officer boarding in their home, even as she firmly believes in the American cause. When she learns that her brother is a prisoner of the British and housed under appalling conditions, she pleads with Andre to help. What happens next firmly sets her on the course for later events.

The second half of the book takes place three years later, in 1780, when Sophia is fifteen years old. Through her work with her father's publisher friend, she meets a man who recruits her as a spy in the household of General Sir Henry Clinton. As a housemaid, she would have access to information vital to the war effort. She stumbles on to what appears to be a clandestine operation possibly involving the collaboration of the British and an American of high military rank, a man Sophia and other Americans idolized, a man who played a huge part in early American victories against the British. The implications are so shocking and suddenly Sophia is alone in her quest to bring this information to light.

In the author's note at the end of the book, Avi writes that the two story threads based on historical facts "are as historically accurate as I could write them." He goes on to say that "Sophia is as true an individual as I could hope to create, and her actions provide an explanation as to what really happened in 1780."

And can I tell you how much I appreciated his striving for historical accuracy, even down to the language used. So often you read historical fiction, and get jerked out of the story by an author's use of modern words and terminology. In fact, there is a very helpful glossary in the back of the book to look up those unfamiliar words you come across. (A couple of years ago I read a Middle Grade novel by an author who shall remain nameless, about the Civil War era and the main character talks about being "gaga" for a certain boy! Yes, that word was actually used. Having already overlooked other words that were very obviously not historically accurate, I threw the book down in disgust and never went back to it. So I really appreciated Avi's obviously meticulous research on this book.)

Sophia provides the modern reader with an emotional barometer of the life of an average citizen during that time of conflict in American history. Avi shows Sophia's -I think natural- human conflictions that come with living in a war-torn country: how morals and actions change or become ambiguous based on circumstances.

Sophia, as a narrator, is very Self conscious: she narrates her story as someone aware of her audience and how they may be judging her. Her narrative never loses that awareness. There is a "buttoned up" quality to it: like she is recalling this period of time and reacting almost unwillingly to remembered emotions, and doesn't want to come across as too emotional. She tries her best to be fair and balanced in her narrative, not defending her actions and emotions so much as explaining them. And yet, despite the distancing approach to the narrative, the reader is quickly caught up in her experiences.


Book published in September 2012 by Beach Lane Books.

I nominated this book for the CYBILS 2012 in the Middle Grade Fiction category.

Also linking up with Armchair CYBILS and The Children's Bookshelf.

Book Review of Timeless Thomas: How Thomas Edison Changed Our Lives by Gene Barretta

Timeless Thomas: How Thomas Edison Changed Our Lives is Gene Barretta's latest release about Thomas Alva Edison, the inventor of the light bulb, phonograph, electric pen, storage battery, and so much more. It has a similar style to Barretta's other two biographical non-fiction picture books: Neo Leo and Now and Ben. It's not so much a biography as it is a record of Edison's technological achievements. On the surface you might not think that a book about an older man's achievements would be very appealing to young children. You'd be wrong. My girls found it immensely appealing.

Barretta showcases technology that we in the modern world take for granted, things we use everyday without a second thought. He juxtaposes a page showcasing present-day technology with pages showcasing the technology coming out of Edison's lab, showing how those early technological accomplishments made today's technology possible. Fun to read and very informative, with clear and simple text that is easily understood by kids of the target age group. The illustrations provide a perfect visual accompaniment that is immensely appealing.

My nine year old non-fiction-loving Olivia saw it in the Amazon shipment that arrived a few months ago, snatched it up and ran off to her bedroom. (I had pre-ordered it so it would arrive on its release date.) She came back shortly with a huge smile on her face and spent the next twenty minutes telling me everything she learned from the book. She had never before thought about the origins of the technology that she uses daily. The book has gotten a lot of mileage since then. I love great non-fiction picture books.


I nominated this book for the CYBILS 2012 in the Non-Fiction Picture Books category.

Published in July 2012 by Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

Book Review: The Cloud Spinner By Michael Catchpool and Illustrated by Alison Jay

In this lovely, dreamy fable, a wise young boy spins clouds into cloth under the stricture "Enough is enough and not one stitch more." One day a greedy king spies his cloud-woven scarf and wants more, more, more, despite the young boy's warnings. When the king's greed dries up the clouds, it's up to the observant princess and the wise boy to set things right.

Released as Cloth From the Clouds in Britain, this story has a universal appeal for both boys and girls, and works beautifully for a read-aloud. Catchpool employs the stricture from the story, using just enough words to convey the story and "not one [word] more." Further, he understands the need for key (non-annoying) repetitive phases that keep the story anchored, and delivers his message of conservation in a gentle but effective manner. Brilliantly done.

 The only book we've read previously by Michael Catchpool is his Where There's a Bear, There's Trouble, which was (and still is) universally adored by all three of my girls as toddlers. (Susanna, at five, still loves it and I still see the older two pulling it out of the bookshelf to read themselves on occasion.)

Alison Jay's deceptively simple, gorgeous folk art illustrations pair perfectly with this story. The colors are so beautiful. My children delighted in the cloud shapes and the smiling hills. (See the one on the cover?) I have loved her art since I first saw it on the original covers of Shannon Hale's Bayern series (The Goose Girl, Enna Burning and River Secrets. Click on the links to see the original covers.)

Bottom line: This book was definitely worth the purchase and I know it will be read again and again in the Neal house.


I nominated this book for the 2012 CYBILS in the Fiction Picture Book category.

Book Review: Nancy Clancy, Super Sleuth by Jane O'Connor and Robin Preiss Glasser

From the back cover: "Nancy Clancy has everything she needs to be a super sleuth (that's a fancy word for detective): She has a glamorous magnifying glass complete with rhinestones, a totally professional pink trench coat, and a sleuthing partner with awesome code-breaking skills--her best friend, Bree.
  Now all she needs is a good mystery to solve. But when crime strikes right in the middle of her classroom, will Nancy have what it takes to crack the case?"

Little girls who have grown up with the Fancy Nancy picture books and early readers will rejoice to learn that Nancy has grown with them, and is featured in her first chapter book and solving crime in her own inimitable Fancy Nancy style. (I think she is in second or third grade, although I can't find any place in the book that mentions her age or grade.)

When my girls spotted this in Costco a few months ago, they both instantly clamored to be the first to read the book. Olivia won the coin toss and was completely tickled by the Nancy Drew mentions. (Nancy Drew is Olivia's favorite super sleuth.) I had to stop her from reading parts out loud and ruining it for Karina.

It's a quick read. Both girls read it in short order, and both really enjoyed it.

And they're both anxiously awaiting the next book, due out in January 2013, Nancy Clancy: Secret Admirer.

Published in 2012 by Harper Collins.
Ages 6 and up.

Book Review: The Quiet Gentleman by Georgette Heyer

From the publisher: "Unscathed from the wars, Gervase Frant finally returns to his father's estate to claim his title as the new Earl of Stanyon. But his stepmother's resentment and his half brother's open disdain put a chill on Gervase's welcome. Now he must establish himself as the new head of the house . . . and ignore his family's rising hostility.  Then Gervase's eye is caught by a lovely young woman -- the same woman already much in favor with his half brother. Now the brothers face direct competition as they bid for the lady's attentions. But as Gervase struggles to maintain a gentlemanly balance, he begins to find himself the victim of repeatedly cruel accidents. Soon it becomes increasingly clear that someone wants the new Earl of Stanyon dead . . ."

Georgette Heyer is one of my favorite authors. I've read most of her books and reread my favorites periodically. I couldn't remember reading The Quiet Gentleman before, but as I got into it, I started remembering things that were going to happen. But it's not going on my list of favorites by Georgette Heyer. Obviously not very memorable for me, I find this one of her most boring books, but on the whole it's not a bad read. The characters were marvelous but I thought it suffered from pacing problems. The mystery aspect of the book (who is trying to kill the main character) was quite boring and predictable. The romantic aspect was very understated, almost nonexistent, except at the last part of the book. The characters were the only reason I kept reading.


Originally published in 1951.
My copy was published in 1952 by G.P. Putnam's Sons.

Book Review: Mrs Noodlekugel by Daniel Pinkwater

From the publisher: "Nick and Maxine live in a tall building with one apartment on top of another. So when they look out their window and see a little house they never knew was there, of course they must visit (especially when their parents tell them not to!). Going through the boiler room, they’re amazed to find to a secret backyard with a garden, a porch, and a statue of a cat. And they’re even more amazed when that cat starts to talk. . . . Welcome to the world of Mrs. Noodlekugel, where felines converse and serve cookies and tea, vision-impaired mice join the party (but may put crumbs up their noses), and children in search of funny adventures are drawn by the warm smell of gingerbread and the promise of magical surprises."

This book would have been ideal for my newly emerging readers:  it has a kid-appealing story with just enough fantasy, folly, and humor (and plenty of charming black-and-white illustrations by Adam Stower) to keep a beginning reader's attention, in addition to great cover appeal (for girls, anyway.) But be aware that this book has a limited readership, given that the text is overly simplistic (quite Dick-and-Jane-ish, just in longer chapter form.) It is, in effect, a long beginning reader, when the child has mastered the basics but still needs some help. 

The problem is that the publisher's info page of the book makes no mention of the ages for which it's suited.  Upon further research online, it is listed for the 5 to 10 age group, but again, just be aware that this is for young beginning readers. They will likely be the only ones excited about the story. (Both my older girls tried reading the book. My nine-year-old brought it back to me after a couple of pages, declaring it a book for babies and utterly annoying. My seven-year-old persevered to the end, declaring it a cute story, but written for "little kids." She hadn't heard her sister's scorn of the book, as she was asleep the night her sister tried to read it.)


Published in March 2012 by Candlewick.