by Kelly Barnhill
ages: 10+
First sentence: “The end of my world began with a story.”
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Princess Violet is not beautiful. In fact, she is the furthest thing from it. But, she is gregarious, intelligent, and well-loved by all. She isn’t entirely satisfied by this arrangement: she thinks she’d much rather be beautiful than anything else. So, when the 13th God, the Nybbas, starts whispering in her ear, making promises to Violet, she’s willing to risk the entire mirrored world for beauty.

Or, so she thinks.

That’s about as far as I got. It’s not a bad premise, though the illustrations don’t do Violet’s deformities justice, but the execution drove me batty. Generally, I have no problems with intrusive narrators (I liked A Tale Dark and Grimm and the Incorrigibles of Ashton Place books, after all), but this one drove me batty. First of all, the narrator is an actual character in the story, and an adult one at that. And the story is written in first person. All of which doesn’t add up to me. Who is the main character? Violet. Then why is this storyteller guy (who calls me “my dear” all the time, too!) telling the story?

Sad to say, even though I think that this book has a good moral (be accepting of yourself, and you may change the world), I never got past the annoying narrator to get to that point.

(Just for the record: because this is a Cybils nominee, I’ve been asked to make sure y’all know this is my opinion only, and not that of the panel.) 

by Caitlen Rubino-Bradway
ages: 10+
First sentence: “The day of my Judging dawned bright and clear and hot.”
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Review copy provided by the publisher.

Abby has grown up in a place, and a family, where having and doing magic is normal, every day, expected. So, of course on her 12th birthday, she has her Judging, when they determine not whether she has magic, but at what level she is. Except, it doesn’t go as planned: Abby has no magic. Is what they call an ord. Which means, generally speaking, her family and friends will shun her, she’ll get sold into slavery, and die an early death.

Except, Abby’s oldest sister, Alexa is working with the government and has set up a boarding school for ords to teach them how to live without magic. How to survive in a world where no one wants them. How to find a place where they are needed.  And Abby’s family is such that they’re not going to shun her, so she’s packed off to boarding school.

So far so good. I adore the reverse magic thing Rubino-Bradway has imagined, and I loved Abby’s family, and how they stood together. It’s so rare to have a fantastic family in kids books, I was just reveling in the fact that the parents were not idiots and the siblings all really adored each other and wanted to protect Abby.

But that’s also problematic: see a kid can’t have adventures with hovering parents. Boarding school is a good solution, but I do have a question: why do they all need to feel like we’ve gone through the whole school year? Can I blame that one on Harry Potter?

Because once Abby gets to the school, not much happens. (To be fair, not much happens in Harry Potter, either, but Rowling kind of makes us forget that.) They go to class. Abby ends up on kitchen duty. She makes friends. They have a spot of adventure at the Yule Fest, where Abby gets kidnapped, but then it’s back to, well regular school. She meets the king. And there’s a spot more of adventure, and the book ends.

It never really peaks climatically, and while it’s all very interesting, and charming, and I love Abby and her family, and I liked that Rubino-Bradway was dealing with prejudice, it just never really seemed to go anywhere. Which I found, ultimately, unsatisfying.

(Just for the record: because this is a Cybils nominee, I’ve been asked to make sure y’all know this is my opinion only, and not that of the panel.)

by Jennifer E. Smith
ages: 10+
First sentence: “Only Ruby knew about the stranger in the barn.”
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Twelve-year-old Ruby and her twin brother Simon are trying to get used to living on 10 acres in Wisconsin rather than a suburban Chicago home. Sure, it’s been a bit more than a year since they moved — in order for their parents to pursue their inventing/artistic dreams — but it still doesn’t really feel like home.  Especially this summer, when it’s so hot, without any rain, and the crops are withering. (Talk it the hand: I feel your pain! Summers in Kansas ain’t no picnic.)

Then Weird Stuff begins to happen to Simon. Or because of Simon: a rainstorm. A freak electrical shock. And a couple of strangers turn up (one nice, one not-so) to tell Simon that he has Special Powers, that he’s a part of an exclusive club: the Storm Makers.

So far, so good, right? I did like Smith’s play on the whole global warming/changing weather thing. And if you’ve been paying attention the past few years, she worked several major disasters into her story linnke, And I did like the neat twist near the end. But, overall, I didn’t feel this one held together. Mostly because it kind of felt like Savvy, but not as cool. And the “bad” guy was kind of wimpy; I never truly got the sense that he was All That and then some. Sure, yeah, I was told he was, but I just didn’t feel it. And while I liked Ruby — from whose point of view it was told — I never got a handle on Simon, either. Since he was half the whole twin thing, I felt like I should have gotten to know him at least a little better.

It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t really great, either.

(Just for the record: because this is a Cybils nominee, I’ve been asked to make sure y’all know this is my opinion only, and not that of the panel.)

by Melissa Wiley
ages: 8+
First sentence: “The Smirches took Louisa in when her Pa went to jail, but they weren’t happy about it.”
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It’s 1882 on the prairie (Kansas, most likely, since it mentions Topeka a few times), and Louisa Brody’s Pa has just been carted off to jail because several items belonging to their neighbors (the Smirches of the first sentence) have been found in a dugout belonging to the Brodys. The catch, though: the dugout hasn’t been used in years, but no one seems to believe them.

So, it’s up to Louisa to get to the bottom of this mystery. One that involves a smallish magical figure who was only pining for his wife who left him.

There’s really not much more to this little tale: it’s one of those delightfully written fairy stories, but that lacks a lot of substance. Sure, there’s the whole family angle: Louisa loves her Pa, and will do anything to keep him from getting hanged. But, more than that? Not really.

That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable: it is. Louisa’s a determined young girl, and the smallish magical figure is sufficiently adorably cranky. I’m going to probably order a couple for the store, because it’ll do well here in Wichita, with the Kansas angle.

But is it something that’s going to stick with me for a long time? Nope.

(Just for the record: because this is a Cybils nominee, I’ve been asked to make sure y’all know this is my opinion only, and not that of the panel.) 

by Shelley Moore Thomas
ages: 9+ (read-aloud 6+)
First sentence: “My father was a teller of tales.”
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Ever since her mother died, twelve-year-old Trinket has been on her own. Mostly: she has the pig boy Thomas to keep her company. And even though a kindly family offered to take her in, Trinket knew that her quest was to see the world, and to — hopefully, possibly — find her father who disappeared years before.

She and Thomas set off, and their adventures are told in a series of (this will come as no surprise) seven tales. It took me a little bit to get into the book, but by the second story I was hooked: the tales are retellings of Irish folk and fairy tales, and my Celtic-loving heart just ate that up.

The whole book is woven around the idea of storytelling, of bards and troubadours. The people and situations that Trinket and Thomas encounter are magical and mystical, and loosely tied together by her search to find her father.

In a wee bit of a spoiler (though, honestly: how could it have ended any other way?): Trinket does find her father. But he is not the same man who left the family all those years ago. There’s an underlying tale of forgiveness and love as well as the search for one’s purpose in life.

My only drawback on this one was the cover: it’s all shades of awful. Especially since these are the kind of tales that have universal appeal, it’s disappointing that this is the sort of cover that will turn boys off of this gem of a book. (Not that it needs to, mind you. It just will.)

Even so: I adored this one.

(Just for the record: because this is a Cybils nominee, I’ve been asked to make sure y’all know this is my opinion only, and not that of the panel.)