Author: booknutgirls

booknutgirls http://thebooknutdotcom.wordpress.com I read. I blog. I sell books. I chauffeur my kids. What more do you need to know?

Summer of the Gypsy Moths

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by Sara Pennypacker
ages: 9+
First sentence: “The earth spins at a thousand miles an hour.”
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Stella hasn’t had an easy life. She’s currently living with her Great-aunt Louise, because since her grandmother died, she and her mother have been wandering aimless, practically homeless, from city to city until the government finally stepped in and separated the two of them.

Now, she and Louise — and another foster child, Angel — are hitting it off in their little house on Cape Cod, readying for the summer season with the gardening and the vacationers in the four little cottages they manage.

That is, until Louise dies.

(That’s not a spoiler: it happens in the first chapter.)

Stella and Angel panic: if they call people to come and take Louise away, then the same people, the ones who put them in the foster-care system in the first place, will take them away, send them to homes that might not be so nice. So the two of them make a pact: they’ll bury Louise in the back yard and run the cottages as if Louise were just injured and unable to help out, take the money they get as tips and save it until they have enough to go somewhere.

It’s all quite vague — very much the way 12-year-olds would think — and they don’t do everything perfectly. Thankfully, even though it’s one of those “bad mother” books, it doesn’t ever seem either overly desperate and sad or overly implausible. Because of her situation with her mother, Stella is more grown up than she otherwise would be, and is able to take charge, with the help of Heloise’s advice columns. Granted, I’m not sure two 12-year-old girls could go four weeks (which is how long they end up faking everyone out) without someone noticing that the responsible adult is never around, but somehow they do. But, as a consequence: they end up going hungry because there isn’t a grocery store nearby, and they don’t have money for them anyway. It’s a small thing, but it’s a nice touch.

I’ve been trying to pinpoint what I liked about this book. The lying got to me, of course; as did the far-fetched situation. But, in the end, I liked it for its simplicity, I think. Pennypacker’s writing is simple and direct without being simplistic or pandering, which is part of the reason I like her Clementine books. It holds true for this: Stella and Angel are opposites, but they learn to work together. Problems are solved. Ocean is enjoyed. There are moments of loneliness and hardship, but it’s never overly dramatic. It’s got that classic feel, without being old-fashioned.

The other thing I liked was that it was a true middle grade novel: there had to be bad parents and dead great-aunts so that the two girls could learn to shine and grow and learn and develop. It’s a humble adventure, but it’s still an adventure: learning that they really do need people to take care of them, and what the meaning of home and friendship are.

In the end, even with the drawbacks, it’s a sweet little summer read. And proof that Pennypacker can write middle grade novels as well as beginning chapter books. Both good reasons to pick this one up.

Cold Cereal

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by Adam Rex
ages: 10+
First sentence: “In the busy airport, baggage turned slowly on a carousel.”
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First off: this book has the most amazing jacket flap copy. Seriously. One of the best I’ve seen in a long time.

Scott Doe — aka Scottish Play Doe — has just moved to Goodborough, New Jersey, because his mother has just gotten a job at the cereal company: Goodco. They’ve been wanderers since his father (John Doe, ha!) left when Scott was six, and event though Scott’s moved a bunch, that doesn’t make starting at a new school any easier. Then he starts seeing things: a rabbit man, a unicat (a cat with a horn, of course), a small, cranky man. All of a sudden, what was typical is atypical.

Throw in the twins: brilliant Emily Utz and her brother (even though he’s dark-skinned and she’s not…) Erno Utz, who live with their foster father who has a tendency to give them riddle quizzes, pitting them against each other; a giant named Biggs, and a secret organization called the Freemen, and you’ve got one weird book.

But then, isn’t that what Adam Rex is known for?

On the one hand, this book is all sorts of weird. Rex takes sugared cereal, evil corporations, and mixes them with magical beings and gives us a concoction that, by the end, doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. There are twists and turns and turns and twists and possibly a plot in there somewhere. (There has to be: I noticed that Rex left threads dangling, so there had to have been a plot…) It was confusing, and at some point, I stopped caring if I actually understood what was going on, and just let it wash over me.

Because it was hilarious. I’m not sure how many of the jokes kids would get, but I loved it. The fact that the rabbit-man was a pooka named Harvey. The references to Lucky Charms, Trix, Sugar Crisp. The fact that Sir Reggie Dwight punched the Queen of England in the face (funnier than it sounds). The advertisements. Scott’s name. That the Arthurian legend came into play. This segment:

“SHUT UP! OR YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN? LET ME TELL YOU WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN –”

They never got to hear what he thoguht was going to happen, though in all liklihood he would ahve gotten it wrong. “My partner and I are going to be run over by a rabbit driving a Citroen” just isn’t the sort of thing that occurs to most people, no matter what kind of life they’ve led.

So, yeah. It’s weird. It’s confusing. But it’s hilarious. Bring on the sequel.

Around the World

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by Matt Phelan
ages: 9+
First sentence: “It all began, as many great adventures begin, with a story.”
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It’s the late 19th century, and the time is ripe for exploration, adventure, new ideas. Over the course of 10 years, three different people, independently of each other, decide to make the voyage in Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days a reality. Each chooses a different method of transportation, each takes a slightly different route, each has it’s own ups and downs.

Matt Phelan tells these three stories — Thomas Stevens, who traveled around the world on a bike (one of those old-fashioned ones with a big wheel); reporter Nellie Bly, who decided she would beat Verne’s story (and met Verne along the way); and sailore Joshua Slocum, who sailed the world, alone, in a schooner, at age 52 — in graphic novel form, simplifying them for his intended audience, and yet making them highly entertaining. I found myself interested in the stories and lives of these three, which is something that I didn’t expect to be.
 Out of the three stories, I found Thomas Stevens’ to be the most interesting. Around the world on a bike? Fascinating. But beyond the coolness of his traveling method, I thought Phelan’s art lent itself best to Stevens’ story. Nellie Bly’s worked okay, though I think a lot of the excitement and frustration she experienced were lost in the graphic novel form. And I didn’t follow Joshua Slocum’s story well at all. Perhaps that’s because as the stories went on, Phelan got more and more introspective, and it just wasn’t as interesting to me.  Or, perhaps I just suffered from the opposite: because it was a graphic novel, even though the art was grand, I felt like I was missing chunks of the story; I wanted more words, to fully understand what was going on.

But, overall, I’m glad I read it. It’s a good introduction to three little-known people who dared to adventure.

The Girl of Fire and Thorns

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by Rae Carson
ages: 13+
First sentence: “Prayer candles flicker in my bedroom.”
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Elisa is the younger sister in the royal family of a smallish country. The only thing that marks her as different is that she’s the bearer (the first in a century) of the Godstone, a jewel in her navel. She has no idea what her “service” is supposed to be, but she does know that it will require something of her.

So, when she’s married off to a king of an adjoining country on her sixteenth birthday, she figures it’s the first step in her destiny.

Little did she know what that would mean.

There really is so much to like about this book. It does start slowly; Elisa with her eating issues and insecurities are quite hard to like. But, as the book goes on, she warms on you: it’s truly a book about growth, about Elisa figuring out how to come into her own. And it’s a pretty amazing journey. I enjoyed that the book was religious in its own right. Elisa sees herself as a servant of God, and there’s some interesting implications and conflicts that arise from that belief. It’s a richly detailed world, Spanish-influenced, but one in which the world doesn’t overpower the characterization, a remarkable feat in itself.

I also have to admit (slight spoiler here) that I’m happy that while there is a bit of romance (she does get married in the opening chapter, after all), Elisa manages to find a way to be strong and self-assured without having to be on the arm (or in the arms) of some boy. Sure, she’d like to be desired, but in the end, a boy is not necessary. Good message, that.

All of which means I’m quite interested to see what Carson comes up with next.

Audiobook: Sports From Hell

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by Rick Reilly
read by Mike Chamberlain
ages: adult
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Not content with being a writer for Sports Illustrated or ESPN — or perhaps it was bored with being a writer of normal sports — Rick Reilly decided to go on a quest: over the course of three years, he (and his lovely researcher/girlfriend, TLC) searched the world over for the World’s Dumbest Sport.

And because he’s a journalist, he felt the need to share it with the world, as well.

The sports range from the pretty cool (women’s football), to the retro (the Jart; remember those? If not, you didn’t grow up in the 70s and 80s), to the weird (ferret legging; that’s what he’s doing in the picture up there) to the “I wanna try” (Zorbing; seriously looks like fun), to the eye-rolling (his chapter-long rant on baseball), to the certifiably insane (bull poker). Not to be outdone, there’s a chapter on drinking games (did you know there’s a world series of beer pong?), on the world championship Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament, and the Finnish “sport” of Saunaing (or whatever they call it).

It’s a completely useless book — there’s really nothing of value in here, unless you want to impress people with your synonyms for vomit — but it’s entertaining. Or, at least, it tries very hard to be.

See, Reilly’s use of similes drove me completely batty. Literally. I laughed at them at first, but as the book wore on, I grimaced and eventually rolled my eyes. I wish I had the actual book in front of me, so I could write a few of them down; they were literally that bad. And all over the place. Which I found highly distracting.

The second distracting thing was Mike Chamberlain as a reader. He only had two
“voices”, and he would alternate between the two of them. And I have to admit that his inflection grated on me after a while; it was nice and chatty at first, but eventually, I kind of wanted to smack him.

Still, it wasn’t enough for me to give up the rubber-neck value of the book: the sports were so bad, I had to see what Reilly would find out next.

Oh, and for the record, the dumbest sport: chess boxing.

Between Shades of Gray

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by Ruta Sepetys
ages: 13+
First sentence: “They took me in my nightgown.”
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It’s 1941. Police come in the night, taking a family by force, without explanation. They are taken to a train station, shoved into cattle cars with hundreds of other people, and taken — beaten, abused, shot, starved — to a camp where they are forced to work.

If you didn’t see the year, you would probably think this was a Holocaust book. It is, but not Hitler and Jews. It’s Stalin and the Lithuanians.

Our narrator is 15-year-old Lina, the oldest child of a university professor, an artist. She and her family are taken, separated — her mother bribes the NKVD (the precursor to the KGB) to keep her and her two children, Lina and Jonas together — and sent to work in the camps. They are branded traitors, criminals, prostitutes, anti-Soviet, and are sent to work initially at a beet farm. They are not treated well, to say the least, but there are moments — like Christmas, or the way the Lithuanians help each other — that are more humane. Then, inexplicably, Lina and her family are sent off to the Arctic Circle, to work in a camp there. In one of the more harrowing moments, an American ship ports and brings tons of supplies, all of which the NKVD officers get, and none of which go to the inmates (which the Americans don’t even know are there). So many people freeze to death; so many people lose hope.

It’s a harrowing book, disturbing, and as Maggie Stiefvater said, completely wrecked me. I could only read it in short chunks, interspersing it with something lighter, because that’s all I could handle. I couldn’t tell you about the writing, or the characters, or whether or not I liked it, because (like many Holocaust books), I couldn’t get past the fact that this was based on true events.

Which means, this now takes its place among those books that are Important and Should Be Read. If only so Lina’s — and Lithuania’s — story can be heard.

Reread: The Hunger Games

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by Suzanne Collins
ages: 12+
First line: “When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Others in the series: Catching Fire, Mockingjay

I caught the Hunger Games hype early (not as early as some, but earlier than others), reading it a few months after it came out. And because I did, I mostly just linked to others’ reviews, and gave you my thoughts. I haven’t picked the book up since then (though I did read the other two), though I did go see the movie the weekend it came out with C and M.

Then, it was our choice for our mother-daughter book group, and we decided to go with this one. I couldn’t pass up the chance to read it again.

First off: it lives up to a second reading. (I was actually worried about this.)

So, if you have been living under a rock, the basic plot is this: it’s sometime in the distant future, and the US has dissolved into a country with a capitol and 13 districts. Then, at some point, the districts rebelled against the domineering capitol. Except that they were defeated — the 13th obliterated — and the other 12 were made to give one girl and one boy as “tributes” to the Hunger Games: a contest of survival, where the winner is the last one left alive.

Katniss lives in the poorest of the districts, 12, and she’s making it by. Her father was killed in a mine accident, and she’s been single-handedly keeping her family — her mother, and her younger sister, Primrose — alive. So, when at the Reaping (when they choose the tributes), Primrose’s name is called, Katniss does the only thing she can do: volunteer to go in Primrose’s place. She’s off to the 74th annual Hunger Games.

I’ve heard Katniss called a strong heroine, and after this reading, I’m not sure I agree. Don’t mistake me: she’s a survivor. She will do anything to make sure she keeps herself, and those she loves, alive. It’s her sole purpose in life. But I’m not sure she’s a strong character, someone who takes charge, who’s proactive about herself and her future. No, she’s more a reactive type, someone who deals with situations thrown at her. Which isn’t bad, but that doesn’t mean she’s strong, in the typical sense.

The second thing I thought of is that all the hype about Team Peeta and Team Gale is really quite misguided. Sure, there’s romance, but really: Katniss is too busy surviving to really pay much attention to the boy, and while we think Peeta likes her, we’re getting everything warped from Katniss’s point of view. I like those who say they’re Team Katniss, because honestly: there’s just too much going on in her world for her to spend time on a luxury as romance.

But, overall: worth the reread. It’s still a book I’d recommend to people, as a commentary on reality television, on the hoplessness of war. It’s tight, action-packed, and still unputdownable. And you can’t beat that.

Drop Dead Healthy

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by A. J. Jacobs
ages: adult
First sentence: “For the last few months, I’ve been assembling a list of things I need to do to improve my health.”
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Review copy provided by my place of employment.

The thing I love best about A. J. Jacobs is that he’s insane enough to try things that normal human beings don’t even consider. I mean, really: who would read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica? Or spend a year living the Bible to the letter? Or going undercover as woman? (Actually, I haven’t read that one. Yet.)

Or how about spending two years becoming the healthiest man alive?

If anyone can go from intellectual, indoor-loving couch potato, to a lean, mean machine, it has to be A. J. Jacobs.

He organizes this one roughly chronological — giving us check-up updates from month 1 to month 25 — but also by body part. He spends a month on his eyes, his ears, his brain, his fingers, his stomach, his heart, his testicles (yes, you read that right), and right on down to his feet. He’s game to try just about everything — from cave man exercise (and diets!) to going OCD on toxins to BluePrintCleanse, though he didn’t go as far as plastic surgery — there really is no stone he leaves unturned. It’s a fascinating way to approach health, but also a trivia-inducing one. If I have become insufferable with “Did you know…” and “I read in Drop Dead Healthy…” statements, it’s only because this book is packed with so. much. information. And all of it interesting. It helps, I think, that his books are so readable: he’s self-deprecating, but not to the point where it’s annoying. He’s funny. And his wonderful, long-suffering wife (and adorable boys) play a role as well; he really is devoted to them, and they really are wonderfully tolerant of his insanity.

So, did I learn anything? Yes. There was possibly too much information thrown at me, but some did sink in. Will I incorporate anything I learned in my life? I don’t know. Perhaps. Was it an enjoyable way to spend my time? Most definitely.

Oh, and for the record: I think A. J. would be proud that I read this book entirely while on the elliptical at the gym. I hope so, anyway.

Bitterblue

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by Kristin Cashore
ages: 13+
First sentence: “When he grabs Mama’s wrist and yanks her toward the wall-hanging like that, it must hurt.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Others in the series: Graceling, Fire

First: If you haven’t read Cashore’s previous two books, you should. Seriously. Like, right now.

I’ve been waiting three years for this book. Three years of following Kristin Cashore on her blog, waiting patiently, hoping that Bitterblue will be as wonderful as Graceling and Fire are. So, obviously, my expectations were high.

It’s eight years after the death of Bitterblue’s (completely insane, cruel, wicked, evil, horrible, terrible, there-isn’t-a-word-strong-enough-to-describe-his-atrocities) father’s (justifiable) murder. She’s been queen since she was 10, surrounded by advisers that her uncle (the king of Lienid and Po’s father) picked. She’s been moving paperwork, treading water. And now, she’s beginning to wake up, for lack of a better word. She wonders what goes on outside of her castle, and starts sneaking out at nights. There she learns that she’s not the only one who is having trouble putting Leck’s atrocities behind her. It’s all over the kingdom: her people are not well people, and those who are searching for truth are being harassed and murdered. However, realizing this is not the end of the story: it’s only the beginning. This book is very much one of healing, of getting past a tyrant (a mild way to put it) and his terrible past, and finding a new path of Truth and Justice, while acknowledging that the abusers were in so many ways victims, too.

When I logged that I read this one on Goodreads, I started scrolling through the reactions of people there, and I discovered two things. One: you’ll either love or hate this book. Two: It seems to me that the complaints boil down to just a couple things.

First: there isn’t enough Katsa and Po, and they’re different. True, Katsa and Po aren’t the main characters of this book, but they do play a role. (Also: of COURSE they’ve changed. It’s been eight years people!) In fact, sometimes I felt that Po was too much of a fallback for Bitterblue, and I was actually glad the times in which he wasn’t around, and Bitterblue was forced to do things on her own. That said, there are really two storylines going on here, and our heroes from Graceling do play a major part in the second one. Also: Bitterblue’s romance isn’t full of chemistry, but is rather a slow one, in which they are friends first. However, it’s also not one that can go anywhere. That said, my favorite character was Giddon. I don’t remember him well from Graceling, but I adored him in this book. He was such a rock, such a kind, good-hearted individual, that I couldn’t help like him.

Which brings me to point number two: Cashore is so heavy on women that she doesn’t cut men a break. (Though one person said they didn’t like the way Cashore treated women, and to that I have no answer… REALLY?) I don’t understand this. There are strong women in this book, strong men and weak men and traitorous women. It’s all there. One of the things I think Cashore does best is portray the spectrum of human possibility: it’s possible for people to lie for good reasons. It’s possible for people to be in love and fight. It’s possible to trust people and then be betrayed. It’s possible for healing. It’s possible to find good women and men to surround oneself with.

Complaint three: it’s long, boring, complex, confusing. Well, yes. I think that’s done on purpose: Bitterblue is confused — warped by her father’s actions, which still have a hold on her, her advisers, and the country — trying slowly to work things out, and we see events through her eyes and memory. It’s not an easy process, and therefore to have a straightforward book would not do Bitterblue and her story justice. It’s very much like Chime in this: Bitterblue is not always the most reliable narrator, because she doesn’t have all the pieces, but to tell the story any other way would lessen the impact of the revelations at the end.

I’ve blathered on too long. The short version of all this: Bitterblue is excellent. One can only hope that Cashore doesn’t take three years writing the next book. I need her stories.