Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

So far, I’ve really enjoyed two of Erin Entrada Kelly’s books and more or less enjoyed one; I finished Lalani of the Distant Sea this week, however, and I think it’s going to need to be in its own category. Certainly I enjoyed parts of it (although the overall premise is less my thing), and I found some parts of it lyrical and dream-like and beautiful, but the sheer difference of it sometimes left me on the outside of the story, trying harder to relate than I wanted to have to try while reading. Partly, I imagine, it was my lack of familiarity with Filipino culture and legend, but there was also a nebulous quality to the details of Lalani’s journey that I just didn’t always prefer. Because of that quality, my favorite parts were the parts in Lalani’s home village–especially Hetsbi’s growth. That story arc felt most firmly rooted in the book’s reality. For the rest, well–EEK can write, and I admired the beauty of it AND appreciated the story, but fantasy is less my thing at this point (especially nebulous, doesn’t-make-as-much-emotional-sense-to-me-as-I-want-it-to fantasy). So far, my favorite of her books is Blackbird Fly; then again, she has a new book coming out in May that looks promising. We’ll see what happens then!

I totally said I’d be back Monday, I know. But I was tired and everything was still messy from being gone and then coming home, and I wanted some time to just chill with my hubby. So I’m back today instead.

It happens.

Of course, I wouldn’t be so behind in my book reviews if I’d posted Monday, but all I can do is start where I am, right? On the drive home from Idaho on Sunday, I let the three older kids vote on our audiobook; The Terrible Two Get Worse won out two to one. (My youngest doesn’t listen, so she doesn’t get a vote.) Of course, they’re all going to want a chance to look at the pictures in it as well–that’s why I picked up the print copy from the library today–but they did enjoy Mac Barnett and Jory John’s second installment in their Terrible Two series. This one sees Principal Barkin replaced by his coldblooded father, former Principal Barkin; Niles and Miles try desperately to prank him, too, but he appears to be ‘Principal Invincible.’ Can bringing now-former Principal Barkin in on their secret give them the edge they need to oust his father? I’m sure you can guess the outcome, but the ride is still very much worth the read. (After all, it got us through the mountain passes between Burley and Brigham City.) Elementary schoolers (and beyond!) ought to love this series–and parents ought to get a kick out of it, too. Hey, I sure do!

First item? My kids are out of school tomorrow–end of term–so I’m taking the weekend off for some family time. This is it until Monday!

Second item? I finished listening to Cynthia Lord’s A Handful of Stars last night, and I very much enjoyed it. Granted, that’s not a surprise–it takes place in eastern Maine–but the story felt unexpected in a consistently positive way. It’s told from the point of view of Lily, who is being raised by her grandparents; she is hoping to save up the money to pay for an operation for her blind dog. That blind dog is the catalyst for her friendship with Salma, in Maine with her family for the blueberry-picking season. Migrant workers and town natives don’t usually mix, but Lily and Salma create something new together. Because of their friendship, Salma decides to compete in the Blueberry Queen pageant, and the outcome is both realistic and surprising; instead of swelling drama, this is a thoughtful book about people, the different pieces of their personalities, and the struggle between old ideas and new ones. I highly recommend this one.

Sadly, I’m not even kidding. Maybe a Fox was co-written by Kathi Appelt and Alison McGhee, but if you follow the Nicholas Sparks rule of “if two characters are truly happy together, there’s a good chance one of them is going to die”, you won’t be far off. Jules and Sylvie have lost their mother already, and Jules loses Sylvie not 60 pages into the novel. (That’s not a spoiler if you’ve read any description of the book at all.) Meanwhile, Senna the Fox is born with a special connection to the human world, and she loves and IS fiercely loved by her family even while she knows she has something she must do that sets her apart from them. Jules’ and Sylvie’s friend Sam is grateful to have his older brother home from Afghanistan, but Elk isn’t the same brother that left a year ago; he is grieving the loss of his best friend, Zeke, who didn’t return. Zeke’s grandmother raised Zeke because his parents died in a car accident, and she’s still grieving for him while helping Jules and her father in the wake of Sylvie’s loss. Throw in an unwise young bear and the possible return of the rare, gone-for-decades catamount to the Vermont woods, and you have a beautifully written tale of grief and love and loss within both the human and the animal world.

Bottom line? There is no shortage of sadness in this book, friends. The Vermont setting called to me, and I appreciate and respect beauty when I see it; on the other hand, I wouldn’t reach for another such book anytime soon.

You’ll have to make your own decision about this one.

I finished listening to Jack Gantos’ From Norvelt to Nowhere last night, and WOW. Dead End in Norvelt was definitely a bizarre sort of funny, but it was also a meaty sort, if you know what I mean. Its sequel is kind of all over the map; it’s got a shade of “Murder by Death”, something of the road trip zaniness of “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” and lots of talk about white whales and Captain Ahab. Eleanor Roosevelt’s death and a new murder in Norvelt are the catalyst for Miss Volker and Jack to head to D.C. and then Florida (it’s a long story), by train and then VW Bug. Spizz is hovering around, but he’s not the only one also heading south, and by the end, following the thread of who’s really doing what versus who’s pretending gets a little nuts. The climax is satisfying, in a crazy way, but there’s a surprise “what really happened?” afterward that messed with my head a little. Ultimately, I preferred the first book–it was definitely more character-driven–but the target audience will probably be wildly entertained by the sequel. Either way, it’s a book about a boy that doesn’t rely on bathroom humor.

That’s ALWAYS a win for me.

I was totally going to at least TRY to review a book today–only I got caught up in rearranging/organizing-in-the-garage-so-the-Christmas-things-can-fit-there-now mania. On the positive side, some of our Christmas stuff is already in the garage, and a bit more of it is at least boxed up. On the other hand, there’s still PLENTY to be done. Reviews will have to wait–and really, aren’t you guys all doing the same things at your houses?

I’m pretty sure I’ve only got one more review in me today, so I’ll have to settle for ALMOST no waiting reviews to start off 2020. Still, I’m feeling pretty good about my progress overall! Here’s review #5…

I was crazy excited to receive an ARC of Lucy Knisley’s Stepping Stones; I have graphic novel-obsessed children, and this is Knisley’s first foray into middle grade fiction. (Her adult graphic memoirs have been on my list for quite a while now, but other people keep putting them on hold at the library.) I read it first–because I always get first shot at library books, unless the kids get them from their school library–and then my 10- and 13-year-olds read it. The former said it was good, although the mother’s boyfriend was kind of mean. The latter said it was good, and when I mentioned that I didn’t love the mother’s boyfriend, she suggested that it probably made the story more relatable to kids. (Hmmm.) As for me–I thought it was good as well, but I did not love the mother’s boyfriend. Not at ALL.

Now, I realize that adults are not always going to BE lovable when viewed from a kid’s point of view. As a parent (and a teacher), however, I cringed at most of what Walter says to Jen. We don’t see Jen’s mom advocating for her daughter, either, and while I recognize that blended families are complicated, I was uncomfortable at the dynamic portrayed. I actually assumed, as a reader, that part of the end of the book would involve a confrontation and growth in Walter and Jen’s relationship, but Knisley sidestepped what I felt were real issues, reserving the moments of change and positive growth for the girls and mom. Bottom line? I enjoyed reading Stepping Stones, but the adult behavior frequently bothered me. Neither of my girls seemed bothered at the same level, so I doubt that aspect of the story is going to be a problem for its target audience–but I’m not sure that that’s a good thing; I’d rather my girls be inspired to self-advocate, instead of letting certain behaviors go. Ultimately, I think kids may quite like this one, but I’d encourage parents to read it as well. Adult-child dialogues inspired by Stepping Stones might be the very best thing to come out of Knisley’s story.

The OTHER book I finished last night was the audio version of The Girl He Used to Know, by Tracey Garvis Graves. I won a copy from St. Martin’s Press months ago–y’all know by now that I’m still trying to catch up on books–and jumped at the chance to borrow the audio from my library in order to expedite my reading. I don’t read a lot of contemporary romance, being more of a historical kind of girl, but Annika and Jonathan made for an appealing couple, and I enjoyed this one. It’s definitely got a bit of a Jane Eyre vibe–near-perfect male figure falling in love and being endlessly patient with female figure that doesn’t match his place in society, until events at the end help even up their relationship–but Annika’s hard-won independence and her relationships with her family (and Janice) fleshed out the story in unexpected but appreciated ways for me. I haven’t enough firsthand experience to know if Annika’s autism is realistically portrayed, but as an average person, I enjoyed her and Jonathan’s journey. This was a sensitive, deliberate read that I thoroughly enjoyed.

I was all excited that I reviewed two books yesterday–and then I finished two books yesterday night. Here’s review #3, then…

My now-10-year-old has read another series by Beth Ain, and when she finished it and I was looking at what else she’d written I came across Izzy Kline Has Butterflies. It’s about a new fourth grader, which was perfect at the time–but then it languished on my shelf for long enough that said child is no longer a fourth grader. (She’s almost halfway through 5th grade, to be precise.) I dived in and finally read the whole thing yesterday–it’s a verse novel of less than 175 pages, before you get impressed–and I think she’ll enjoy it anyway. Izzy is thoroughly likable as she navigates changing friendships, ANNOYING BOYS (her caps, not mine!), and life with her divorced parents (and tongue-pierced older brother). Middle elementary school girls should relate, and with its verse novel length, even reluctant and/or struggling readers should enjoy this one.

Alrighty, folks–review #2!

I received Neal Bascomb’s The Grand Escape: The Greatest Prison Breakout of the 20th Century in a box of youth nonfiction that I entered to win; it’s been sitting and waiting for my life to allow for nonfiction-level concentration ever since. A week or so ago, however, it came up under ‘new audiobooks’ on my Libby app, and so I snapped it up and listened to it forthwith. And what a tale, seriously–Allied officers tunneling to escape an infamous WWI prison camp in Germany. (I had never heard of their escape and flight to Holland, and I can’t be the only one.) Bascomb’s account is well researched and compelling, drawing on both published and unpublished records of the people involved; as a reader, however, I did have to remind myself periodically that this all happened BEFORE the Holocaust. The POWs in Holzminden did endure poor food, bad treatment, and months in solitary confinement as punishment for a range of offenses; on the other hand, enlisted prisoners served as orderlies to 5 officers apiece, making their beds and tea, polishing their boots, emptying their ashtrays, and serving meals. Holzminden was certainly not a Nazi concentration camp; on the other hand, it was a miserable place for the Allied POWs to be, and at that point in history there was no Bergen-Belsen to compare it to. All in all, The Grand Escape is a compelling tale of brave men risking everything to escape a place they found intolerable, which makes for a gripping and satisfying read. I’m looking forward to checking out some of Bascomb’s other books.