Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Seriously. My 4-year-old started on Friday–fever, exhaustion, lack of appetite, sore throat, and an incredibly gunky-sounding cough–and my 13-year-old followed suit on Saturday. The 10-year-old started mildly on Sunday night but fell hard by Monday evening, so I took her in to see if it was influenza.

Nope.

Apparently there’s an influenza copycat out there at the moment–similar symptoms, but the sore throat is worse while the fever not quite so high. Which is TOTALLY us. My last hope is that my son will somehow escape, but that’s feeling less and less likely. Ah, parenthood!

Anyway. If you also have sick kids, here’s a book recommendation to cheer you up. 24 Hours in Nowhere is by the same author as Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus, which my older girls and I all loved. (Granted, my 13-year-old is inexplicably incapable of saying the title and keeps calling it Insignificant Lives in the Event of a Cactus, but she loved it all the same.) I wasn’t sure about 24 Hours in Nowhere initially–the main characters’ life situations aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy–but it didn’t take long for it to win me over (and then some!). Gus’s quest for gold in an abandoned mine leads to an unexpected overnight adventure, and Dusti Bowling’s blend of hardship, friendship, humor, pathos, and adventure is pitch-perfect. (The entire book is improbable, I suppose, but who cares? It’s just so blasted good.) I found this every bit as enjoyable as Insignificant Events, and that’s saying something. If you want a satisfying book with heart to spare, look no further. (The heat of the desert setting might even warm you up a little.)

I might actually have to own this one.

I couldn’t come up with a title for this post to save my life, folks; having a sick 4-year-old must be wearing on me. Still, I have girls who will be anxious to get their hands on White Bird: A Wonder Story, and so I’m pressing forward.

I was curious about R. J. Palacio’s graphic novel debut, because a)another Wonder spinoff? and b)writing a novel and creating a graphic novel require significantly different skills, but I pretty much loved Wonder AND Auggie & Me, so there wasn’t ever a question about not reading it. I finished it last night, and while I wouldn’t say her art is amazing–while freely admitting that it’s far better than anything I could ever do!–I still really enjoyed it. The story of Julian’s grandmother’s girlhood in occupied France was both poignant and ultimately hopeful, even while portraying with honesty the kind of violence characteristic of that time period in history. The mystical elements were a little different, but they didn’t overpower the realism of the story; at the end of the day, this is a solid addition to Palacio’s family of Wonder stories.

And now my 10-year-old can get her eager little hands on it.

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.