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grl2grl, by Julie Ann Peters
Short story collections are so hard to rate fairly. It's a matter of taste, of course, but inevitably some of the stories come across as great, some good, and others...not so much. So this collection is typical in that sense. However, as anyone who's ever visited Julie Ann Peters's MySpace page can quickly deduce, these stories are likely something of a haven for the GLBTQ teens who flock there. The book, in fact, is dedicated to the kids who have shared their stories with her. A fine thing for them, of course, but grl2grl has plenty to offer straight readers as well. There's a range of experiences and feelings here, and it's cool to have that contrast in one handy package. I still prefer Peters's longer works like Luna and Between Mom and Jo, where she has space to really crawl into her characters' heads, but this is worth your while.
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Someone Named Eva, by Joan M. Wolf
I have an odd set of impressions of this book. On one hand it's compelling and interesting, probing an untouched corner of WWII history. On the other, although I expected an intensely emotional story about a Czechoslovakian girl stolen from her family by Nazis and "repatriated" (brainwashed, actually) into a German, I felt a curious detachment from Milada's feelings in the first two-thirds or so of the book. Despite the fact that I was always aware of Milada's emotions, I rarely shared them; they were relayed as facts ("I felt as if I belonged nowhere and to no one") more often than they were demonstrated tangibly. Perhaps that's why a very affecting moment for other readers seemed unreal to me: When Milada forgets her Czech name after just seven months at the Lebensborn center, I didn't buy it. "Milada," I chided her to myself with her own words, "after your grandmother and her mother before her." That said, I did enjoy Someone Named Eva and I very much wanted to know what happened to Milada - to the extent that I had it read in a couple hours. It's well researched, informative, and appropriately unsettling. I just didn't pick up the same level of emotional punch that other readers have felt. Aside: I appreciate that this cover is so representative of the story, but for the love of Pete, will someone please take the nice folks at Clarion by the hand and show them how to design appealing jacket art for their hardcover novels? I passed right over this one in the galley kit, and we've had a bugger of a time over the years convincing folks to pick up great stories like A Single Shard, Lizzie Bright, and Wednesday Wars simply because readers (of all ages) don't respond to their covers...
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Keeping Score, by Linda Sue Park
Umm...I did some skimming near the middle of this. Don't get me wrong, there's good stuff in here about baseball and hope and the Korean War and even a smidgen of religion, but for whatever reason I had trouble working myself up into a froth about the Dodgers. (I'm not even sure whose "fault" that is.) I much preferred the last half of the book, when the war and Maggie's relationship with a veteran took the forefront. The characters seemed stronger and more complex to me at that point. Also on the plus side, the sense of time and place are both lively and vivid. There's something awfully appealing about Brooklyn in the 1950's, you know? I don't have any actual complaints about Keeping Score (well, ok, Maggie's mother's Irish accent did seem a tad theatrical from time to time), and I'm pleased to see Linda Sue Park writing for a slightly younger audience; apparently I'm just not the ideal reader this time around. Try it - I'll bet you an egg cream you'll like it better than I did. (Available in March)
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Shooting the Moon, by Frances O'Roark Dowell
You know what I like best about this book? Well, besides the voice, that is. For once, the army father isn't pushing his kid into enlisting. The family may be all "Yessir" and "Hoo-ah" but when Jamie's big brother signs on for a tour as a medic in Vietnam, the captain (aka: Dad) is less than enthusiastic. That's just one example of how complicated and interesting the characters are. I had a good time sitting back and letting them surprise me. I have mixed feelings about the end. Now, don't get all squeamish on me. I didn't cry or throw the book across the room or anything dramatic like that. I'm just not sure the end quite worked for me. And that's about all I can say about it without spoilers. Try Shooting the Moon. I'm pretty darn sure you'll like it a whole lot.
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Seeing Annie Sullivan, by Denise Bergman
Wowzers. There's some excellent stuff in this little book. Each poem illustrates a fragment of Annie Sullivan's life in affecting, sensual language that forces you to slow down and absorb each word. As good as they are, I'd really like to know what it's like to read these poems without a backlog of knowledge on the subject. (I'm not sure if I can say this without sounding snotty, but I have a suspicion a more apt title in that case might be "Glimpses of Annie Sullivan.") I loved them, yet at the same time I felt like my enjoyment was due in large part to the prior knowledge I was bringing to the table. For example, when Bergman mentions a bowl of strawberries, or Annie's father gambling for a turkey, I couldn't help mentally fleshing out the essence of the incidents with all the context I've acquired over the last few years. Because the writing is so good, I wish like the dickens that I could experience Bergman's book with completely fresh eyes, and discover what sort of impressions of Annie the book would create in someone unfamiliar with her history. Volunteers? One puzzlement: the water pump scene is nowhere to be found. I know it's been done almost to death, but it sure seems like a crucial element to skip over.
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This is, without a doubt, the best fantasy by Gail Carson Levine I've read since Ella Enchanted. For my money, it might even be a little better. But I don't want to go running your expectations up too high, so try to forget I said that. What's so all-fired cool about this book? The questions it raises. Questions, in fact, are the heart of the issue. Kezi's people, rather like the ancient Jews, believe in one invisible god. So when Kezi's father swears an oath to the all-powerful Admat that inadvertantly threatens her life, Kezi faces death or the wrath of her god. However, to complicate matters, it just so happens that the young man Kezi has fallen in love with is an immortal named Olus, the Akkan god of wind. (Didn't I just say there was only one god? Don't worry - that's exactly what Kezi thought, too.) Olus's family of immortals is strikingly similar to the Greek gods of Olympus, which means that vows, faith, religion, and fate all come into question as Kezi and Olus fight to find a way to save her life without breaking the oath to the mysterious Admat. As I hinted before, the setting feels vaguely Greek or perhaps old testament - clues like goats, flatbread, date palms, and sandals make the flavor of the location palpable, but not quite something you could pinpoint on a map. Which is fine and dandy because to my knowledge, this story isn't a retelling of any existing tale. The world of Kezi and Olus seems familiar yet entirely original, and it's a fantastically engrossing place to lose yourself for a few hours. (Available in May)
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Yeow. This is one intense ride. Sometimes disturbing yet always compelling, Boy Toy takes you right inside a teacher-student sex scandal. I know: "Ewww!" Why should you want to go there? Because Barry Lyga somehow manages to guide you beyond the gawking and sensationalism and straight into empathy. Think about it: because their privacy is protected, you never hear the kid's side of the story when these scandals hit the news. How could something like that not completely shake up your life? How could it even happen in the first place? How would you like to go back to school after the news breaks? That's exactly what Josh is trying to deal with, even five years after everything's hit the fan. Something else significant and smart about this book: it isn't a story that's only about a kid having sex with a teacher. It's about baseball, college applications, relationships, and repercussions. The characters make their share of mistakes (well, duh - but not just *that* one), but are mostly just regular kids trying to make their lives work. In the end, it's totally worth the squirminess of the premise.
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Tips on Having a Gay (ex) Boyfriend, by Carrie Jones
Oof. If I list the stuff that kept me from liking this book a whole bunch, I'm just going to sound like a petty little crab. I liked the characters. I liked the premise. The book as a whole, though, struck me as just ok. What can I say? It happens that way sometimes.
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If you'd asked me earlier this month what I think of Sissy Spacek, I probably wouldn't have had much to say. Not that I dislike her, you understand. I'd never given her much consideration. Well. I haven't read this book since 9th grade English with Mr. Reinhard, and seeing as it's got a reputation for being THE best book, I figured maybe it was time to have another look and give it some serious study. So much for that idea. Once Sissy Spacek got rolling, I wasn't aware of anything but the story. Her voice is perfect, and she handles the shifting range of southern cadences from Atticus Finch to Tom Robinson without a slip. This is clearly how To Kill a Mockingbird was meant to sound.
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The Off Season, by Catherine Gilbert Murdock
If you loved Dairy Queen, you'll love this. That's all there is to it. I've been known to sport an ati-sequel attitude, but Catherine Gilbert Murdock has pulled off a worthy sequel. This is one instance when "more of the same" is a compliment. That said, I also appreciated that in spite of the time that's gone by since I read Dairy Queen, I didn't feel like I was scrabbling for context, or being over-fed with backstory. The characters you love are all here, and what they do this time around just might surprise you.
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Smiles to Go, by Jerry Spinelli
I'm not sure how to tell you about this book without getting all rambly and going overboard. It's got a wide range of Important Stuff running through it: protons, stargazing, skateboarding, chess, pizza with anchovies, first kisses, Saturday night Monoply tournaments, and a pesky little sister to name a few. Sounds quirky, doesn't it? And it is, but not overwhelmingly so. It's also on the quiet thoughtful side, but again, not so much so that nothing happens. (In particular, Tabby, the kid sister, keeps things hopping.) I'm thinking this is another book for the Stargirl crowd -- a story set in a high school that younger kids can still read and relate to. Ok fine, this is probably not the most helpful or coherent review I've ever written, is it? Just read the book. It's good. It's by Jerry Spinelli for Pete's sake. (Available in May)
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Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City, by Kirsten Miller
It took me a good 120 pages or so to realize that Kiki Strike is a pretty fun book. Why? Because I'm a dode. (If you've never heard that word before, you've clearly never met Bev Benczik. I think it's a homemade derivative of "dodo.") Anyway, here's the thing: Miss Erin more or less freaked out when she heard I hadn't read this, so we made a pact - I read Kiki, she reads something by Donna Jo Napoli. Apparently I figured that anything Miss Erin is so enamoured of must be the next Shannon Hale, and Kiki, no matter how much you love her, is no Shannon Hale. However, she is an exciting romp through the streets of New York City; sort of a high-tech Harriet the Spy. Seriously - delinquent Girl Scouts, royalty, treasure, explosives, attitude - what's not to like? I daresay someone should probably make a movie out of this book. And by the way, Erin dear, I have an "I am Kiki Strike" t-shirt, which I can now wear with competence and pride. If only I can find it...
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I Feel Bad About My Neck, by Nora Ephron
Maybe it's my age. After all, I still feel pretty good about my neck. There were funny moments, of course - enough to keep me occupied and mostly amused from Detroit to Grand Rapids - but at some point the laments started to wear on me. In all honesty, I don't have to open a book if I want to hear someone fussing over purse clutter or the Houdini-like ability of reading glasses to go AWOL. Sure, it's fun to giggle along over the stuff my co-workers, my mother, and her pals routinely gripe about, but in the end I wished the book were even more funny and clever than they are. A tall order, I'm afraid. On the plus side, I have a feeling that if in another 35 years the fabulous Betsy Bird abandons children's lit and starts writing about wrinkly necks, cabbage strudel, and the charms of New York City, it's going to sound an awful lot like this book. Literally - something about Nora Ephron's voice and manner constantly reminded me of Betsy's podcasts. In any case, mucho bonus points and a woo-hoo for mention of cornbread pudding, a very tasty dish I thought only we Millers with ancestral ties to Nebraska knew about.
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The Chicken-Chasing Queen of Lamar County, by Janice N. Harrington
What, pray tell, is this - a picture book? Yep. After months of watching it pop up on blogs I love, as well as mock-Caldecott and notables lists, I finally gave in to the buzz. (Actually, it was more of a persistent hum.) Darned if they weren't all right on. Never mind what you might be tempted to think about a main character who devotes her days to chasing chickens. This is just great fun to read. The language is vivid and distinctly southern without sinking into dialect, and the pictures are a super-nifty blend of painting and collage. I don't even like collage all that much, but I sure do like this. If you've got the gumption to squawk like a chicken, I'll bet you a dozen farm fresh brown eggs this'll make one killer read-aloud.
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Talk, by Kathe Koja
In the end, this was a better book than I thought it was. (Huh?) See, I kept dipping into it a few dozen pages at a time, and it wasn't until I sat down to read the final third of the book at a stretch that I realized Talk deserved better than an average three-star rating. I confess, the style caused part of the trouble for me. It's rather stream of consciousness, and it felt jarring and choppy during my initial dippy-dab reading sessions. Even though it takes some getting used to, I ended up thinking it was a pretty smart way to deal with and portray these characters. Their internal thoughts run merrily along, a bit of outside dialog interrupts for a moment, and then they're off in their own heads again - all in the same sentence. When you're wrapped up in yourself like these kids are, that's pretty much how it works, I think. I've gotta say the character of Lindsay was pretty unbelievable. Not in the unrealistic sense, mind you. More in the "I can't believe that girl!" sense. (That's a compliment to the author, by the way.) Also impressive is the way Koja handles her alternating narrators with nary a label, a font change, nor a tense change. The characters are distinct enough that she didn't need any of the usual crutches to help the reader differentiate between them. Cool! And if that's not enough, the issues that come up in Talk are worthy of, well, talk. As Kathe herself said on her blog yesterday, "Freedom - of speech, of belief, of the heart - begins in the mind".
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Remembering Raquel, by Vivian Vande Velde
What a thoughtful little book! So often, "thoughtful" is used as a backhanded compliment to describe something deep and nicely written, yet slow-moving and perhaps even tedious. Not in this case. The premise is simple: a girl dies, and the people in and around her life - from her best friend to the janitor at her school - react to her death in their own words, chapter by chapter. Although this is a book slim on plot and mostly concerned with effects and perception, each character's snippet is self-contained and compelling. Seems to me you could have a terrific classroom or bookclub discussion with Raquel.
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Bird Lake Moon, by Kevin Henkes
My overriding question upon finishing Bird Lake Moon: Is this really a book for children, or is it a book about them? Of course, it's well-written. Kevin Henkes knows exactly how kids and their families react and interact in fragile situations, so the emotions and actions of the characters are believable, even insightful. But to me, the whole thing felt a bit like an out-of-body experience. There's just something awfully adult about the writing itself, something too insular and reflective to make me believe this is a story that will appeal to more than a handful of young readers.
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Tennyson, by Lesley M. M. Blume
Another book I nearly abandoned, but thanks to Miss Erin's review, I stuck it out. If a fleeting glance at the flap copy has led you to believe this is a tale of a plucky girl helping her family brave the Great Depression, think again. This is in fact a very strange book, of the sort that seems to cast an otherworldly spell over you as you read. Yet it's precisely the disquieting combination of real and unreal that compells you to keep the pages turning. With its decrepit old house, bright but mildly savage characters, and cache of family secrets, the story itself strikes me as something like a younger cousin of The Thirteenth Tale. Come to think of it, there's even a flavor of Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte in its decayed southern setting. The conclusion didn't have quite enough concrete resolution for my taste, but I'm glad I stuck it out nonetheless. In the end, you sort of creep out from under this story and find yourself surprised to find the everyday world around you. If you find yourself getting bogged down, just remember, "Gothic, gothic, gothic." No matter what you think of it, Tennyson is a book that will stick with you, rather like cobwebs...
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I am so impressed by this book! Jen Bryant juggles a host of characters - at least nine by my count, all with distinct voices - to show the Scopes evolution trial from all sorts of angles. As the Monkey Trial heats up, issues of belief and thought collide with friendships and families from one side of town to the other. The writing is so good I even got out a pencil and marked some stanzas, which is something I just. don't. do. Ever. (Ask my mother.) There are moments of cleverness and irony when the language mingles religion and nature with issues of freedom for sparkling effect. Sadly, they're too dependent on context to quote succintly here -- check out pages 11 and 17 in particular. I'm also pretty much in awe of how the author managed to inform me about the trial itself while showing its impact on each and every one of her characters' lives. You know what would I think would be cool beyond all reason? To see a bookclub or classroom read Ringside, 1925 and follow it with Robin Brande's Evolution, Me, and Other Freaks of Nature. What a discussion this pair would spawn!
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The Humming of Numbers, by Joni Sensel
Synesthesia's fascinating enough nowadays, but what would it be like to be synesthetic in the 10th century? Complicating matters, Aidan is a novice at a Celtic abbey where he's learned not to tell the other monks about the numbers he hears humming from people and things. If the brothers suspect his ability is a sign of the devil, Aidan may never be allowed to paint illuminations on the abbey's sacred texts. That's certainly enough to occupy a young man's thoughts, but add a beguiling yet feisty wood witch who hums of eleven, and a band of Viking raiders, and you've got enough to make the plot itself hum. I have an inkling I enjoyed this book so much in part because I loved Born on a Blue Day, Daniel Tammett's memoir of living with synesthesia and Asperger's Syndrome. Aidan's sensory experiences might seem strange and fantastical to some readers, but after learning about Daniel's life, Aidan's abilities seemed perfectly possible to me. I also appreciated that Aidan's humming numbers played right into the plot, rather than existing merely as a curiosity. (Available in June)
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Ever, by Gail Carson Levine
