First of all, I know it's been a few weeks since my last post. If you are wondering what I am reading in between posts, I am participating in two challenges this year. I am reading in the YA Reading Challenge and, on my other blog, Picture Book Reading Challenge (for which the girls and I are trying to read 200 picture books/board books/readers). I update those on a regular basis, even if I don't actively review them.
For some of you who know me and my reading tastes in real life, there will be no surprises when I tell you how much I loved Anna and the French Kiss. After all, it has many of my favorite teen book elements in it - romance, friendship, and most important of all, boarding school! In fact, when a librarian friend wrote to me about this book, she told me "This is a very Susan book!". And it is - but it is so much more!
Anna Oliphant has been sent off to Paris for her senior year of high school . Who wouldn't want to go to Paris? Well, Anna for one. She loves her life in Atlanta, with a potential new boyfriend, great friends, and a cool little brother. Not to mention that she took Spanish the other three years of high school. But her father, a Lurlene McDaniel-like author with a pen name, feels she must go there, and so she does. She spends her first night at the School of America in Paris homesick and worried.
The girl next door, Meredith, ends up taking Anna under her wing and introducing her to her friends. Her group of friends are diverse and cool, including Etienne St. Clair. One of the first things she learns about Etienne is that he has a girlfriend, so instead of falling in love with him (Anna tells herself) she'll just become his friend.
St. Clair (as the friends call him) and Anna have really strong chemistry. I believe one of Perkins' strengths as an author is that she creates a believable, strong friendship between Anna and Etienne. Because they have feelings for each other, they take time to get to know each other. They spend time visiting all the landmarks of Paris, sitting together in class and learning about each other and their families and friends. We learn about them, but also get to vicariously enjoy the sidelong glances, hands touching and all of the other signs that this friendship is headed towards romance.
Another thing that makes this novel work is its characters. While the story revolves around Anna and Etienne, there are many strong characters surrounding them. For instance, Anna's father is laughable - if he isn't your father. He specializes in sappy novels, much like Nicholas Sparks or James Patterson. Anna is embarassed by his novels, the movies made out of his novels and the way he talks to her. Her father sends her an email telling her he will give her younger brother "her best" when he sees him. He has arranged this year for the cachet it will give him as well. Just imagine the author blurb on the back of his next novel, stating that his daughter is "studying in Paris". Well...I've gotten a little off track here, but I really did love him in his awkwardness and awfulness.
While there is a romantic love story at the heart of this book, this is also a story of friendship. When Meredith brings Anna into her group of friends, Anna has no idea how much they will shape her year in Paris. With no French language skills, and coming into a senior class of 25, Anna could have spent the year very lost. Her friends support her and help her learn her way around the city. They translate breakfast menus, ticket orders - they help her without judging her or making her feel helpless. But Meredith has had a crush on Etienne for a long time, and when Anna falls in love with him too, she has to work to maintain her friendship with Meredith. The friends will all move in different directions as they (mostly) head off to college, but you don't get the sense that they will slip away from each other. I like that Anna (and Perkins) doesn't emphasize the romance over her friendships.
At the end of the novel, you get the feeling that Anna and Etienne might actually make it - that their romance will last beyond high school and even as they grow and change in college. To me, that is the mark of a great romance - you can believe in and envision these characters remaining in love as their lives develop. This is Perkins' first novel, but I am excited to hear that she already has two companion novels in the works - one coming out later this year. Who doesn't love a great love story?
Anna and the French Kiss. Stephanie Perkins. Dutton, 2010.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
One of the things that I love about School Library Journal's Battle of the Books is that I've read things that I would not have read otherwise. When I heard about Trash, it did not seem like my kind of book - I am not always an enthusiastic reader of books with teenage boy protagonists. I rarely connect with teenage boy characters, so it has to take some special characters for me to get past that. But this book was different from the first page.
Raphael and Gardo are sorting trash, on the top of a large mountain of refuse in a landfill. Suddenly something slips out of a bag - a wallet with ID, a key and a substantial amount of cash. To Raphael and Gardo, who live in the landfill in a sort of scrabbling, hand-to-mouth existence, the cash is most important. But when the police come looking for that same wallet, Raphael and Gardo know they have unearthed something much more valuable than they first thought.
They enlist one other boy, a loner known as Rat, to keep their secret. These boys have already kept the wallet a secret from their neighbors because of the amount of cash. Raphael and Gardo know that cash makes them vulnerable in their dumpster society. They could be robbed or killed over it. In their neighborhood (called Behala), people never have any money at all - they mostly use recyclables or found trash to barter for food and supplies. This is a bleak, hopeless society. The adults in Behala are just barely surviving. Raphael, Gardo and Rat, however, are still young enough to have a slim glimmer of hope. And that is enough to allow them to set off on a quest to solve the mystery behind the wallet.
Mulligan has created an incredible story. These boys have nothing - no money, little family, even less education. And yet they are resilient, clever, street-smart. The three are able to get information because they have always lived by their wits, so they are observant and have perfected being invisible to the adults around them. Perhaps only this particular group of boys would have this combination of daring and smarts that allows them to solve this mystery. Most teen boys wouldn't be curious about the rest of the contents of the wallet, probably discarding them while keeping the cash. Or they might have bowed to authority and handed over the wallet to the police when they came looking for it.
This is an adventure story at heart, but it is combined with the mystery that unfolds in front of the boys. At times, the action is heart-stopping - will the boys be caught by the police before they uncover a mystery that hints at political corruption? Mulligan keeps the tension ratcheted up at an unendurable level, and you wonder how these poor, uneducated boys can possibly survive.
One other unique thing about Mulligan's novel is the voices - each of the boys have chapters told through their eyes, and they all have very different ways of looking at this situation. They all see each other's strengths and weaknesses, and work together as a seamless partnership. It is truly miraculous that these boys have the wherewithal to not only survive their bleak upbringings but to hold out hope for a better life.
Trash. Andy Mulligan. David Fickling Books: Random House, 2010.
personal copy
I chose this book at our local library because I knew it would interest Frances. Frances and her group of girl friends saw The Nutcracker in December, and are going to see a ballet production of Cinderella in May. And while Frances would usually prefer to select her own books on our library trips, she agreed to this one right away. It's easy to see why just from the cover - eight little ballerinas gesture gracefully at the framed title, all rendered in appealing shades of pink.
The plot and interior illustrations are equally appealing. This is the story of the eight young ballerinas who spend their days at Miss Lina's school - Christina, Edwina, Sabrina, Justina, Katrina, Bettina, Marina and Nina (whew!). They dance in four groups of two and spend the rest of their day in the same way. From the zoo to the beach to their local grocery store, the girls dance joyfully through their day. But then Miss Lina welcomes a new student (named of course, Regina) to their school, and the rest of the ballerinas are thrown off-kilter. How will they solve the problem and continue to dance in step with nine ballerinas?
Maccarone has combined two important themes for young girls in this story - friendship and ballet. Ballet language is used naturally within the text, and the girls are also shown executing the named steps. At the end of the story there is a short list of the ballet terms with pronunciations (for unsure parents) and a one-word definition. The natural combination of the terms within the text and the illustrations of those steps may spur interested readers to continue exploring ballet. The friendship theme is also crucial to the young child - the eight original ballerinas are thrown off by the change and are not welcoming to Regina. It takes a little guidance from Miss Lina to solve the problem and make the dance troupe successful. There is also a hint of math for astute readers as the girls struggle to divide themselves into even lines.
One of the things I like best about this book is that it is a natural, infectious read-aloud. The bouncy rhythm suits the characters perfectly. Even just saying all the ballerinas' names (Christina, Edwina, Sabrina, Justina, Katrina, Bettina, Marina and Nina) starts you dancing along. If I wasn't already reading it aloud, I would have grabbed my girls within the first few pages just so I could say the words aloud. The lilting prose has strong end-rhymes, something I find important for a successful read-aloud. It is hard to read a book aloud when the words either don't fit the rhyme scheme or the author has to use words that might not be the best choice because it rhymes. None of that happens in this story.
The color choices in the book are also superb. The pages' creamy color makes the ballerinas' pink tutus pop. The color palette is striking and rich. In one illustration, the dancers are shown at the zoo, and while the prevalent color is the green of the trees surrounding the elephant enclosure. However, the ballerinas use the railing as a barre in the foreground, and your eyes are drawn to their bubble-gum pink dresses as they dance. My only complaint is that the artist's medium isn't identified in the prefatory material, so I'm not exactly sure what she used to create these energetic illustrations.
One of the other things that I enjoyed about the picture book is its resemblance to Madeline. After all, there are the young girls, dressed identically, dancing in straight lines. There is the willowy dance teacher, guiding them much like Miss Clavel. And the easy to read rhymes sing along, just like when you read Madeline. It is a pleasant connection, subtle, but leaving a smile on your face.
We all loved this book in our family, and the girls' names have been a constant refrain in my head all week long. Well-done, fun and perfect for any little girl in your life.
Miss Lina's Ballerinas. Grace Maccarone; illustrated by Christine Davenier. Feiwel and Friends, 2010.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
First of all, I have been reading in the last three weeks, just not writing. I've been up against a couple of deadlines - many library books that I couldn't renew for various reasons (and I would never give up a library book without reading it first!), and I've also been reading the books for School Library Journal's Battle of the Books. If you don't know about this fun contest, you should. Each year, they pit 16 books against each other and have children's authors read two books each and decide which book should move on, culminating in one final winner. In the children's literature world, these decisions are hotly contested, and the authors' decisions are always strongly written and entertaining. This year, I hadn't read many of the books chosen, so I have been reading like crazy, trying to get to the books before their fate is determined. The choices the Battle Commanders have made are really interesting - a strong mix of fiction, nonfiction and graphic novels. If you're interested in seeing which teen-level books I've been reading, check out my YA Challenge page. While I am only listing the books that I've read that are considered teen books, this gives you an idea of the volume of books that I am reading.
But I have also been reading all of the books that won Youth Media Awards from the American Library Association this year, and I want to talk about a book that won both a Caldecott Honor Award and a Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award for its illustrator - Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave.
The author, Laban Carrick Hill, begins with a connection to the young reader who is opening the book. He invites them to remember the feelings of dirt, mud and clay, how each of these feel trickling through the reader's fingers. This is a detail that brings readers right into the book and in turn invites them into Dave's world.
While a quick flip through Hill's brief, poetic text might make you believe that this is more of a picture book, it is definitely beyond a young child's capacity. Because of how Hill deposits readers into the middle of the story, readers have to have a certain amount of knowledge before beginning. For instance, there is no mention of time period at the beginning of the book. Readers have to recognize that it is slavery depicted on the first page to get at least an idea of when the book occurs.
From the very first page it is apparent that Dave is a slave, but that he isn't the same as the other slaves on the plantation. As Dave sifts through dirt in the foreground, there is a line of men behind him, toiling in that same dirt. As his talent for throwing pots is exposed to the reader, it is obvious that this talent has elevated Dave above the field slaves. There are often glimpses of slaves working in the hot sun behind Dave as he creates. So without even describing the conditions in which Dave lives, Hill and Collier have explained how his life is structured.
Although Hill's text is sparse, it is rich in imagery. Hill doesn't need a lot of extraneous words to describe Dave. In a particularly strong fold-out spread, Hill's words cascade down the first page and then stack in a corner of the double-page spread as Collier demonstrates Dave's pottery abilities. Hill evokes sensory images of Dave's work - something important to allow readers to envision the process and its difficulty.
All of this discussion does very little justice to the amazing illustration work that Collier has done. The technique that he used is a combination of watercolor and collage, and it truly makes the paintings pop off the page. There is a painting where Dave has finished the jar, making it so large that Hill notes if Dave would have gotten in the jar, "he would have been embraced." Dave is shown with his eyes closed, arms outstretched. Behind him is a tree with arms outstretched as well, but on the arms and trunk of the tree are the faces of other people, supporting and inspiring him. It is truly majestic.
And in the illustration where Dave is described kicking his potter's wheel, Collier does something unusual. Dave is shown with his back to the reader, hunched over the jar so that the reader cannot see either Dave's face or the jar. Instead, the reader's eye is drawn to the potter's wheel, peeking out between Dave's legs and feet. Collier has created a stream of sunlight that burns down through the haze of Dave's workshop onto the wheel, focusing the reader's attention.
While most of the colors Collier uses are the colors of the dirt - clay, mud, ruddy - the book is somehow luminous and vibrant. The light sources that Collier shows - from bright sunlight to the stream mentioned above - make Dave's work glow and brings the man to life.
Finally, as the story ends, Hill takes time to describe what little is known about Dave the Potter. He goes over why Dave's life story and pottery are so unique. And as in any work of nonfiction that I champion, there is a strong bibliography, a list of websites, and really illuminating author and illustrator's notes. Collier describes his own creative process and how these illustrations came to be made. It is truly amazing to me that so little is known about Dave, and yet Hill and Collier were able to create such a rich book about him.
I have to admit that I would have chosen this book as the Caldecott winner over A Sick Day for Amos McGee. These illustrations really spoke to me. I felt that they were so elegant and full of humanity. Of course, I was not on the selection committee, and I do recognize how hard their job is. But take some time to find and celebrate this book - it's worth it.
Dave the Potter: Artist, Poet, Slave. Laban Carrick Hill, illustrated by Bryan Collier. Little, Brown and Co., 2010.
borrowed from Helena School District
It's late and I'm trying to squeeze in a blog post before it gets too much later, but I wanted to write about this book before I have to return it. I once again have a bunch of overdue books or books coming due in the next week, so I've got to get reading!
Guardian of the Dead was on the William C. Morris YA Debut Award shortlist this year, so it went on my reading list. I had read a review of the book a few months ago, when I was still ordering books for the library, and it seemed intriguing. It begins in a boarding school, and I am a total sucker for boarding school books. The book also takes place on New Zealand, and the information about Maori culture and society brings a new life to supernatural fiction.
Ellie is at boarding school because her parents are on a year-long trip. She is asked by a friend to help out in a nearby production of "A Midsummer's Night Dream" because she has tae kwon do experience and can help with the fight scenes. It is through this play that she begins to become aware that some things around her are not adding up. There's a mysterious boy who keeps confusing her, a woman without pupils, and a serial killer who is stealing people's eyes.
Her connection with the mysterious boy, Mark, becomes deeper as more of her own latent power is awakened. This connects her as well to the world Mark represents - the world on the other side. The biggest threat to this world comes from the patupaiarehe - beings who live in the mists around the island and are yearning to become immortal. But if they gain immortality, it will threaten to bring destruction to all of New Zealand.
I felt like this book was unique in several ways. First of all, the introduction to Maori culture and mythology is something that American readers don't have exposure to. But Healey does a terrific job of giving the context to the unfamiliar language and cultural norms. There is also a brief glossary of Maori terms that are used throughout New Zealand so that readers can refer to it - even non-Maori speakers use these terms regularly. This book is strongly rooted in Maori mythology, but Healey draws parallels between Maori, Greek and Roman mythologies. Ellie is a Classics student, so she explains the parallels to readers in a natural way.
Above all, this book is a suspenseful adventure. It is complex, with many layers of story and characters. And most importantly for me, it is intelligent. I am not a big fan of supernatural fiction, so the addition of smart characters who are not afraid to be smart makes the supernatural more palatable. Ellie is not the sort of female main character who will dither and wring her hands. She's scared and unsure at times, but she is also exploring her power and trying to find her way through what is rapidly becoming a nightmare.
This is a really strong, smart book - I recommend it to you!
Guardian of the Dead. Karen Healey. Little, Brown and Co., 2010.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark library
As you've seen here and here, I'm reading the Alice series by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. I had read a few books in the series and loved them, and I'd always intended to read them all. The Agony of Alice was the first book in the series, written in 1985.
It takes place after Alice, her father and older brother have moved to Silver Spring. Alice will be beginning sixth grade in a new school - a daunting task for anyone. Alice is no exception - she is looking at herself and feeling very self-conscious. She is embarrassed by some of the situations she finds herself in - like when she asked a neighbor to play Tarzan and Jane with her so she could kiss him, and then changed her mind at the last minute. Naylor is very tuned in to Alice's tween personality and fluctuating emotions, and I think any girl of this age will relate to Alice. Even as an adult, I can remember feeling self-conscious, awkward and unsure of myself at Alice's age.
However what makes Alice different than most girls is the absence of her mother. While Alice's mom died seven years ago, when Alice was four, but that doesn't mean that Alice misses her any less at this point in her life. In fact, Alice is sure that a mother would have helped steer her away from the embarrassing situations Alice seems to find herself in. Her mother's death is part of what makes up Alice's personality. I love that Lester (who is older, and thus remembers their mother more clearly) shares his memories with Alice, who remembers very little of her. The family spends a lot of time bringing their mother to life - a healthy way to grieve but also honor her.
As these books go on, it is evident that Alice's father is slightly out of depth with Alice. Alice gets her period in this novel, and luckily it happens at her aunt's house. When she gets home, her dad mentions it awkwardly, and Alice knows that however she feels about it, she wants to make her father comfortable. She reassures him matter of factly that everything's okay, and he is visibly relieved.
Alice finds herself grasping for guidance that she might have gotten from her mother. She is disappointed when she arrives at her new school to find she's been assigned to Mrs. Plotkin's room. She instantly dislikes Mrs. Plotkin, based on her name and shape. Alice wants nothing more than to be in the beautiful, young teacher's classroom, but as the year progresses, Mrs. Plotkin turns out to be the teacher Alice needs and much more. The name Mrs. Plotkin is so evocative, but her true personality is revealed and she is wonderful. Naylor provides a gentle lesson for readers, but in a warm way.
Many of the recurring characters in this series are already onstage in this novel - Alice's father has memorable female employees vying for his attention; Lester has two girlfriends who he will go back and forth between throughout the series. Alice is observing what it is like to be a woman in all these situations, and it is a diverse group that influences her. Alice has already met the girls who will be her best friends, Pamela and Elizabeth. And then there's Patrick, Alice's "boyfriend" - "On the way to school the next morning, Patrick threw another candy bar toward me, a Three Musketeers. This time I was so nervous I dropped it,...and after that , I guess we were going together." (p. 94) So sixth grade!!
This book introduces new feelings and ideas to tween girls, but it is done in such a friendly, comforting way. Yet another terrific book about growing up by Naylor.
The Agony of Alice. Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 1985.
borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library
I've paid $1.20 to review this book for all of you. I know that's a little backwards, but I've had a bunch of books come due at the library all at once. I liked this one so much, and wanted to think about it a little more before writing about it, so I kept it out, accruing overdue fines all the while. This is when it's inconvenient to not be a librarian any more! But it's a good one, I promise!
Joyce Sidman's books of poetry have twice won Caldecott honors for their illustrations. I especially love Red Sings from Treetops. But this year it was Sidman herself who got the winning call - she had won the Newbery Honor Award. And as you read through this book, it is easy to see why.
The opening poem "Welcome to the Night", sets the tone for the book. Sidman invokes all of the senses in this first poem while telling readers about the nocturnal creatures they'll be meeting. Rick Allen, the illustrator (more on the illustrations later) set this poem against a twilight scene, as night begins to seep into the forest. The scene is set.
Each double-page spread is set up in the same way - poem on the left hand page with a small spot illustration; then a much larger illustration on the right that takes most of the page. On the far right hand side of each spread is a sidebar of information about the nocturnal creature discussed in the poem. This is a really thoughtful page construction. I love how the illustration is placed between the poem and the facts - to give you time to digest Sidman's soaring verse before learning more information. I love that there is information included here - I hate to say it, but I think it makes the book more "usable" for those who might not be poetry lovers. I wish I had a picture to show you this extremely appealing page design, but you'll have to take my word for it.
I wanted to talk briefly about my favorite poems. The title poem "Dark Emperor" is about the great horned owl, and the poem is shaped like an owl trying to grab a tiny mouse. I also love "Oak After Dark" - we tend not to include trees as nocturnal beings, but Sidman points out in the sidebar that trees also are busy working at night. But my favorite poem of all is "Night-Spider's Advice". I love the night-spider's calm, practical wisdom, including these final lines: "Someone has to remake/ the world each night./ It might as well be you." Stunning.
I hate to criticize now, but there is one thing that I thought would make this book stronger and perhaps more useful. There is a glossary of terms included at the end, and I thought this would make a great place for information about the types of poems Sidman has written. For instance, the last poem, "Moon's Lament", is called an ubi sunt, but without a definition, I'm not sure what makes this poem different. There are multiple types of poems here, and I suspect it would help readers understand this cycle of poetry and why Sidman chose the styles she did.
Finally, the illustrations. Rick Allen uses a relief printing process in this book, and the blocky prints are a perfect partner to the moody poetry. There are plenty of thick black lines to evoke the night, but he hand colors the light parts of the illustration with vibrant gouache, making these parts sing in contrast. They are luminous and heavy together, just like the night. The cover is also amazing with the great horned owl hovering over the reader and the book's title, glaring down at both fiercely. The little spot illustrations throughout all include the eft, a creature that eventually becomes a newt. The poem and sidebar about the eft explain how these creatures wander the woods, making them most likely to end up crossing paths with the other creatures here.
This is a glorious, thoughtful book. You can tell how much care went into its creation, and I celebrate the fact that the Newbery committee recognized it as one of the best books published in 2010.
Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night. Joyce Sidman; illustrated by Rick Allen. Houghton Mifflin, 2010.
borrowed from Lewis and Clark Library
