Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Yesterday I knitted with my friend/knitting mentor, made pear jam, and did mountains of laundry; I also finished Remy Lai’s Ghost Book, which is why I’m posting today instead of yesterday. (I finished it perilously close to midnight.) I actually had a different Remy Lai book checked out for a while, but when I saw that Ghost Book a)was a straight graphic novel instead of a hybrid and b)I’d likely get it around the beginning of October, I put it on hold and returned the other one. And since a)I’ve been making a concerted effort to address the graphic novel situation in my library stash and b)it’d be a shame not to read a book about ghosts the month of Halloween, well…here you have it.

To be honest with you, the beginning kind of scared me; I have multiple children who struggle with anxiety and are often deeply affected by others’ emotional struggles, and after the first few pages, I was afraid it might be more stressful than enjoyable for them. It didn’t take long, however, before I was completely captivated by both July and William, as well as by their adventure/quest. I feel like most ghost stories for middle graders tend to be culturally European, but Remy Lai was born in Indonesia and grew up in Singapore; Ghost Book is distinctly Asian in its view of the dead, and it made for a refreshing contrast. The course of the plot felt fabulously original, and I loved the conclusion–I’m hoping my children do as well. (I actually think there’s a lovely opening for a sequel, although I don’t know if Lai is planning on it. One can hope?) If you’re looking for a different kind of ghost story–one with hungry ghosts, a wandering soul, and lots and lots of dumplings–look no further this year!

In the meantime, my oldest nephew is in town for training and joined us for Sunday dinner; we’re hoping he can come today as well, although he’ll likely have homework to do afterwards. That means that once this review posts, I get to throw ribs in the crockpot. AND, based on the overnight lows later this week, we may have to pull out the garden this afternoon, so–wish me luck!

I’ve had Kristen Gudsnuk’s Making Friends on my library shelf for an embarrassing amount of time–think years–and I’m honestly not sure why it took so long to make it to the top of my to-read list. (I only got to it this month because I’ve been making a concerted effort to go through the graphic novels I have waiting, partly in preparation for Christmas and partly to have library-procured bribes for my youngest’s ongoing piano saga.) I have to say, though–having now read it–that I’m not actually sure what my graphic novel-obsessed girlies will think. I was sort of expecting a realistic-fiction-with-a-magical-twist kind of story, where yes, Dany draws herself a best friend, but the emphasis is on that being a catalyst for a novel of figuring out middle school friendships. (Which is awful, by the way. My son is currently floundering in that mire.)

What I didn’t realize is that before Dany draws herself a best friend named Madison, she sketches the head of the villain from her favorite Netflix–excuse me, “Newtflax”–show, whom she’s convinced is just misunderstood. Prince Neptune’s head is as important to the plot as Madison, giving the plot a much higher level of drama with a fairly spectacular conclusion. Is it still, ultimately, about how to make (and be) friends and how to treat people? Yes–but in a sci-fi, “that escalated quickly” kind of way. Amazingly, despite my distinct lack of enthusiasm for sci-fi, I find myself committedly curious about the sequels, so I’d recommend this one for graphic novel fans in general. What my realistic-fiction-preferring 14-year-old will think, however, is anyone’s guess.

In the meantime, our October PTA meeting had another amazing turnout, but now that I’ve completed my report for that, I have the miserable task of finding financial documentation for 3 of our 213 members to face. Wish me luck!

That’s mostly what today is for the week, folks–except for my run to pick up library holds and prescriptions. I have paid a stack of bills, I’ve unloaded the dishwasher in preparation for my post-lunch dishes date, and at the moment, I’m eating leftovers for lunch and writing the review I didn’t write on Monday. (In case you’re wondering, I didn’t get to it on Monday because I spent most of the school day at the school, helping with vision screening. The good news is that my youngest won’t be seeing the eye doctor any time soon; the bad news is that at least one of her good friends isn’t so lucky.)

So. I actually finished Alias Anna: A True Story of Outwitting the Nazis late last week, and it was a thoroughly fascinating story. The “Anna” of the title’s true name was Zhanna Arshanskaya, and she and her younger sister were piano prodigies living in Ukraine when the Nazis invaded. As Jews, they came close enough to death that their names are actually listed as casualties at the Drobitsky Yar memorial; how they escaped, and how they LIVED, is a story that lay buried for decades. I shan’t spoil the details for you, because (unless you have a serious aversion to verse novels) this is a story you should absolutely read for yourself. Susan Hood (who collaborated with Gred Dawson, Zhanna’s son) incorporates a number of specific poetic forms into what is mostly free verse, and recognizing some of them (even if I’d forgotten their official names) upped my enjoyment of the format just that much more. Holocaust narratives are usually a poignant reminder that fear can bring out the best OR the worst in people, and Zhanna’s story is no exception; don’t miss this one.

I actually finished Shirley and Jamila’s Big Fall a week or so ago; I’ve put off reviewing it until today, however, because my youngest has piano lessons on Fridays, and a new graphic novel–from the library, of course–is going to be today’s carrot to induce good behavior. (Once I review something, it’s too hard to keep it from my rabid graphic novel readers.) Is it weird that a bribe that costs no money feels like an acceptable incentive?

Anyway. Gillian Goerz’s previous ‘Shirley and Jamila’ book focused partly on relationships (friend/sibling/parent and child) and partly on Shirley’s detective work; Big Fall, on the other hand, felt first and foremost like a sly graphic novel tribute (almost a retelling?) to Sherlock Holmes. (Holmes lovers will recognize more than one scene or conversation as directly inspired by Doyle.) On the other hand, Goerz uses the case Shirley and Jamila are working on to examine what makes a friend and how different friendships work, making it a middle grade read with some depth as well as a thoroughly satisfying mystery. Graphic novel lovers, mystery readers, Holmes devotees, and middle graders with different kinds of friends should all enjoy this one.

In other news, my poor oldest had a miserable panic attack last night; thankfully, she still managed to get to bed at a reasonable time. (Not as early as she could have used, mind, but still reasonable.) I didn’t get any jam made yesterday, but I did empty a bin from my son’s room by winnowing my youngest daughter’s summer clothes. I also cancelled the chiropractor plans my two kiddos had, which will save us a bit of money we weren’t fully using every month. We’re living life over here, folks. We’re also looking forward to General Conference weekend, so if you want to be inspired and/or spiritually fed tomorrow and/or Sunday, tune in here. It’s a great way to welcome October!

Yesterday did slip away from me, I admit–I kept meaning to post and then got distracted–but here I am this morning, reviewing my latest read-aloud with my 14-year-old. (I’m so glad she still wants to read with me!) I acquired Lila Quintero Weaver’s My Year in the Middle from a library sale some time ago because it looked so good, and apparently my girlie thought so too; I’ve been giving her 3-5 books to choose from every time we start something new, and last time, Middle won out.

The premise is autobiographical–both Lila and Lu, her protagonist, immigrated to the US from Latin America at a young age and grew up in a small town in Alabama. Lila remembers the music, the major news stories, and the day-to-day details that make up Lu’s world; beyond that, Lila doesn’t share. Lu’s middle position, however, is both literal and metaphorical; she is neither white nor black, and so she–along with 3 other students–sits in the middle row in class, with neither the white kids nor the black ones. (The other 3 students are white but with integrationist parents.) As the year progresses, however, the middle becomes a more and more difficult place to be. Former Governor Wallace (“Segregation forever!”) is running again, and Lu’s background status is threatened as her P.E. class begins a unit on running and she discovers both an affinity and an ability for it. When I was in junior high, my friends and I agreed together NOT to discuss abortion, as our differing views only led to arguments; Lu and her classmates, however, don’t exactly have the same luxury. Unlike abortion, civil rights and race relations in Alabama in 1970 involve daily choices about who to talk to, walk with, and befriend in school. How long can Lu remain in the middle row?

My Year in the Middle is full of music, expressions, and the realities of life in 1970; I spent some time Googling bits like “you bet your sweet bippy”. (Not that context clues didn’t make the meaning fairly obvious, but I kind of had to see the evidence to believe it was a real expression.) Lu’s worries, frustrations, and obstacles felt authentic to me–44-year-old mother that I am, yes–and I was thoroughly engaged in her story. The one thing I did notice is that the writing is a bit more journalistic than that in the average novel; given the intensity of the issues, the emotional aspect of the story feels a bit more restrained than I expected it to. The power of Lu’s experiences still shines through, however, making this a completely worthwhile read.

My copy is going in the bag of stuff for my sister.

That’s my story for why I missed all of last week, anyway. To be fair, SEPs (what I called parent/teacher conferences when I was a kid) for three different schools did take up a fair amount of after school time; add to that helping with the teachers’ meal at the elementary school, the current madness of Monday night piano lessons and group therapy, more jam making (of course), and no school on Friday, and you get an interesting week.

The GOOD news, of course, is that here I am! There may be more jam this week, but (after today, anyway) my days should be generally less busy. Which is good, really, because I finished three books last week–or rather, in the last week. (I finished a read-aloud with my 14-year-old yesterday.) I’m picking Jordan Sonnenblick’s The Boy Who Failed Dodgeball for today’s review for the highly scientific reason of proximity (yes, I can reach two of the three books without getting up, but I’d have to bend down for one of them), and so–here we go!

Remember how I loved The Boy Who Failed Show and Tell? Sonnenblick’s sequel detailing his 6th grade year is just as good. He manages to be both hilarious and relatable much of the time, but there is poignancy when you least expect it. He also captures the sheer mercuriality of 6th graders with a wry but compassionate empathy that I’m hoping my son, for one, will enjoy. If you’re looking for a book that covers dental mishaps, middle school band directors, Hebrew school, classmate fight etiquette, and stinky editions of Dicken, you’re in luck; if you’re looking for a middle grade book for boys that will make them laugh without relying on potty humor, don’t miss this one.

Hmmm. Was that a vague and slightly boring review? I think I must be out of practice…or it’s just the sort of book that’s hard to quantify without giving too much detail. It’s GOOD, however, and that’s what matters. Here’s to a productive week!

I’ve found a graphic novel to give my 14-year-old for her birthday! Sure, her birthday was mid-August, but things were crazy then, and I only give her graphic novels I’ve read and approved. (To be clear–again–she reads all kinds of graphic novels checked out from the library or on Sora, but since she rereads the ones she owns more times than I can count, I made sure I only gift her graphic novels with a positive message and likable people. Because she’s going to spend a LOT of time with them.) After finishing Glitch I picked Frizzy for my next graphic novel and read the first page or two, but last night when I started to read it went by so fast that I ended up staying up a bit later than I should have and just finishing it. When I was done, it didn’t take me all that long to decide that yep–this is the one. I ordered it just now, and it’s coming on Monday.

The only reason I didn’t decide on it immediately is that it’s just a little on the short side (after all, my girlie is going to cruise through it in less than an hour). Ultimately, though, its message of self-worth and self-love, combined with some compassion for even the frustrating family members, won the day. My girlie may not have struggles with family members calling her hair bad, but I know she compares herself to others in ways that affect her sense of self-worth. Marlene’s journey to understanding, communication, and a new level of happiness is an inspiring one, and it makes me happy to think of my girls being along for the ride. Don’t miss this one!

My son–who turned 11 in July–is the least enthusiastic reader of all my kiddos; every so often he gets into his book enough to read on past his 20 minutes, but he’s also been known to stop reading with 7, 4, or (it literally happened) 1.5 pages left. (Who does that?!) Months ago, however, he told me about Sarah Graley’s Glitch–I assume he checked it out of the school library–and how good it was, and assured me that his 8- and 14-year-old sisters would really like it. Since then IT’S been sitting on my library shelf and HE’S been bugging me about not having read it and passed it on yet, and so guess what? I finished it last night.

Honestly, my first impression wasn’t great–I don’t like the art. Just because it isn’t my style, however, doesn’t mean it doesn’t convey the story well, and so on I read. And really, it wasn’t a hardship. Graley’s tale is fast-paced, interesting, and has the important conversations its resolution needed; it kept me reading right on through. It doesn’t try to make Izzy’s family–quite–realistic, but it still works, and video gamers should love the plot and its action. Gamers in general should enjoy this one, but it’s an especially good option for reluctant readers. I’ll let you know how my girls like this one!

Yes, I missed both Monday and Wednesday, but I tell you what–the jam almost swallowed me up. After trying and loving both plain blackberry (seedless blackberry, that is) and blackberry-grape on Saturday, I went to Costco for more blackberries on Monday (because $1.89 for a 12 oz container!) and made all kinds of jam yesterday. TODAY, however, I’m taking at least a partial break from the jam craziness (because otherwise I really might scream) to review books I’ve managed to finish. Yay!

Andrea Wang showed up on my radar after her picture book Watercress was named a Newbery honor book; when I saw she also had a middle grade title that looked good, well, guess what showed up on my library shelf a short while later? Fast forward to last week, when I was looking for something I was in the mood to listen to, and since The Many Meanings of Meilan was available to borrow immediately on Libby, it was clearly time to dive in.

I will say that Meilan was not quite what I expected; on the other hand, it’s thought-provoking and empowering, so does it really matter? Meilan, after living her whole life in Boston with her extended family around her, finds herself suddenly moving (with her parents and widowed grandfather) to Ohio, and the difference is extreme. Her principal decides that it will be “better for everyone” if she goes by ‘Melanie’ at school, her (nice) assigned buddy has an identical twin who picks her to bully, her parents make her give up her cell phone because money is tight, and her cousin/best friend is now over a thousand miles away AND angry with her. On top of all of that, Meilan is in 7th grade, and the last Asian-American in her new school system graduated from high school the previous year. To survive while attempting to fulfill her parents’ expectations, she divides her name into its different meanings and chooses parts of herself to separate into depending on where she is. At school she is Mist, almost invisible; at home she is Basket, heavy with the weight of her responsibilities (both real and perceived); away from both places, she is Blue, able to be herself but still grieving over what she has lost.

Fortunately for all three, circumstances ultimately force her separate selves to merge again. As she battles a racist principal, helps her grandfather through his grief, and begins to work out a place and friends for herself, she finds that she is stronger when embracing all of her selves–and happier, too. Asian-American readers may find it especially meaningful, but The Many Meanings of Meilan speaks to anyone trying to make a place for him or herself in a new home, as well as anyone who has ever felt the sting of being an extreme minority in a group. This book is well worth your time.

I finally finished my first 2023 Newbery on Wednesday–Andrea Beatriz Arango’s Iveliz Explains It All–and despite how long it took me to read, it was still an emotional experience. (Which tells you something about it right there, because it takes an extraordinary book to still be impactful when read over a long period of time.) My oldest daughter has been struggling with depression for the last year or more and my father has vascular dementia, so a story about a teenage girl dealing with depression whose grandmother with Alzheimer’s moves in with her family? It was guaranteed to pull at me. The need for Ive to get (and be willing to accept) the help she needed drove me throughout the reading of her story, and her journey is one that teens all over the country–I’d imagine all over the world–need to experience. Our struggling children need to know there is hope and to understand how and when to ask for help; those of us who love people who are struggling need as many resources as possible in order to know what to do to help them. This is a story that matters.

My one struggle with it, however, was the quantity of Spanish involved. I took enough Spanish in high school and college that I don’t need translations of simple phrases, and yet I found myself googling words and phrases frequently enough to slow my progress through the book. My struggling daughter is in AP Spanish right now and will likely do just fine; her 14-year-old sister, however, loves verse novels but hates feeling like she doesn’t know or understand what’s going on, and I have a hard time imagining her making it through Iveliz. (She hasn’t taken a language at all yet; she’s planning on French at some point.) It makes perfect sense for the Spanish to be there–Mimi has just moved from Puerto Rico, which is where Iveliz’s mami is from–but without translations included, I feel like the book is going to reach a smaller audience than it should.

On the other hand, I’ve spent some time wondering how the translations could be included without interrupting the flow of the story, and no easy solution is presenting itself. Asterisks interrupt, flipping to a back glossary interrupts even more, and adding English translations across from any Spanish phrases would certainly affect the look of the text, messing with the effect of the blank verse. The best solution I can come up with is including translations at the bottom of the page–like footnotes–in a separate line for each use of Spanish WITHOUT numbering them. (Because really, readers are mostly going to figure it out. Although Spanish words and phrases could be written in a slightly different font if translations are going to be included?) That would make the book a good deal longer, however, and do you include translations for even the one or two word instances? That would start to feel clunky.

Ultimately, Iveliz Explains It All is poignant and heart-wrenching and important and hopeful, and I’d recommend it to anyone struggling with depression–or grief. If you’re one who likes to know exact meanings when you read, however, make sure you keep Google Translate open!