I’m Just No Good at Rhyming

by Chris Harris, Illustrated by Lane Smith
First sentence: “A door.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Content: Oh, it’s SO silly. And no potty humor. It will be in the poetry section of the bookstore.
Release date: September 26, 2017

I loved Shel Silverstein’s poems when I was a kid. I would read Where the Sidewalk Ends over and over, giggling at all the silliness. And when my kids were little, I discovered Jack Prelutsky, with much the same result for them: we loved the ridiculous poems.

This book is this generations Silverstein and Prelutsky. I know that’s a HUGE statement to make, but that’s what it reminded me of. I picked it up late one night, not knowing what to expect. And ended up not only giggling madly, but sharing with both A and K all my favorite poems. And there were a lot of poems to share. From the “Alphabet Book (By the Laziest Artist in the World)” to (one of my personal favorites) “The Duel” and “Re-Verse” and “Trapped!” and  “L-O-V-E” and and… it was full of things to giggle over and share.

There were some sweet moments, too, like Harris’s observations on grownups in “Grown-ups Are Better (I)”, where he ends ” Grown-ups are better at most stuff, you see,/From tying a shoelace to chopping a tree./But children are gooder and grown-ups are badder/At just about all things that matter.” Or the (almost) final poem “Let’s Meet Right Here in Twenty-Five Years”.  And Lane Smith’s illustrations were perfect for this. Again, equal parts silly and ridiculous, but with a dash of wink-wink on the side.

There was really so much wonderful about this.

Advertisements

The First Rule of Punk

by Celia C. Pérez
First sentence: “Dad says punk rock only comes in one volume: loud.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Review copy provided by the publisher.
Content: There’s some lying (by omission) and some middle school drama. It’s in the Middle Grade section (grades 3-5) of the bookstore, though 6th-7th graders might like it too.

Mariá Luisa (call her Malú please) is NOT happy about moving to Chicago. She wants to stay where she is, in her own school, splitting her time between her house and her father’s record store. But, her mom got a job in Chicago teaching Mexican literature, so they’re moving. And so she has to start over. Which is additionally hard because she’s in a school with a large Mexican American population, and Malú is struggling to find her own identity, especially with her mother always harping on Malú’s love of punk music.

But, she slowly finds her crowd in this new school, and maybe even some friends, although she makes some enemies as well (inevitable). Maybe she can find a balance in this new place.

I loved this one! Malú is a seriously great character, and I loved how Pérez wove in Mexican culture and history through the work. I loved the inclusion of punk music (and lifestyle) and actually really liked the conflict between Malú and her mom (it’s SO hard to let kids be themselves and not what we want them to be). I loved the zines in the book, and Malú’s slow acceptance of her new school and neighborhood. It was just an excellent story all around.

Posted

by John David Anderson
First sentence: “I push my way through the buzzing mom and freeze.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Review copy provided by the publisher.
Content: There’s some bullying and some mild swearing. It’s in the Middle Grade section (grades 3-5) of the bookstore, though it’s probably better for the upper end of that age range.

Eric Voss has found his “tribe”, the people in middle school that he would literally die for. There’s four of them, all of them with nicknames — Wolf, the piano prodigy whose nickname comes from Mozart; DeeDee, an Indian fantasy nerd, whose nickname comes from (you guessed it) D&D; and Bench, who gets his nickname from, well, sitting on the bench on all the sports teams he’s on. Eric himself is Frost, because he wrote an award-wining poem in 5th grade. He doesn’t mind. Frost (he goes by his nickname mostly in the book; they all do) thinks everything is good, until three things happen: 1) the school administration bans cell phones; 2) sticking post-it notes on lockers/walls/people becomes a Thing; and 3) Rose moves in and joins Frost’s “tribe”, at the invitation of Wolf and over the protestations of Bench. Then everything comes to a head, and Frost is left wondering who his real friends are.

It sounds like a simple plot, but it’s an engrossing one. I loved that Anderson caught the angst of middle school, the challenge it is to be the New Kid in the school, and the real desire to, well, fit in with everyone. I liked that the post-it phenomena when viral, and then turned negative, as many things often do. I liked that it was, ultimately, about friendship and fitting in, but there were also side issues like dealing with conflicts at home and how we perceive each other.

I’ve really liked both of  Anderson’s realistic fiction books; he’s got some chops. Definitely worth reading.

Audiobook: Orphan Island

by Lauren Snyder
Read by: Kim Mai Guest
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Listen on Libro.fm!
Content: There’s some mild violence, and some underlying darkness (that I may have noticed because I’m an adult) and some more mature themes (like growing up). It’s in the middle grade section (grades 3-5) at the bookstore, but is probably better for the upper ends of the age range.

Nine orphans live on this island. No less, no more. And once every year (or so) a green boat mysteriously appears, bearing a new young orphan, and the oldest one on the island, the Elder, is supposed to get on the boat and leave, while the new oldest takes care of the new little one. When the book opens, Jinny is saying goodbye to her best friend, Deen, and hello to her Care, Ess. It’s a bittersweet opening: Jinny doesn’t want to say goodbye to her friend, and Ess isn’t happy about being there. And yet, they must go on.

The book covers a huge swath of time, but Snyder does it incredibly elegantly. Jinny struggles with teaching Ess the things she needs to know, and struggles with being the Elder.  In short: she doesn’t want to grow up. For that’s what this book is: an extended metaphor for that transition through childhood. It’s elegant and lovely, and sometimes frustrating and sad (Jinny breaks the rules, and has to deal with the consequences, which aren’t pretty) and annoying. But it’s always a lovely, lovely book.

And the narrator was spectacular. I don’t know what the text is like, but with the narrator, I could not only tell each of the nine kids by her voices, but she caught Ess’s transition from little kid to slightly older one. It was an absolute delight to listen to and one I would recommend.

Thornhill

by Pam Smy
First sentence: “I knew it was too good to last.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Release date: August 29. 2017
Content: It’s creepy and the bullying gets intense. It’s in the Middle Grade (grades 3-5) section of the bookstore, but I’d be careful giving it to overly sensitive kids.

It’s 1982, and Mary is an orphan at Thornhill, in its final days. The orphans are being sent to other places, or place in foster homes. That is, except Mary — who has a form of selective mutism; she mostly can’t talk because of anxiety — and her nemesis, a girl we only know as “her” (I can’t remember ever reading a name, and as I went to find one, I couldn’t). Mary is bullied by her: psychologially, mostly, but also physically. But because she’s subtle about it, and because Mary is so terrified, she is never caught.

In a page taken from Brian Selznick’s books, Smy also tells a contemporary story, in which Ella and her father move into the house next to Thornhill, which has been closed for 30+ years, ever since a mysterious death of one of the orphans. Ella sees a girl in the window one night, and becomes obsessed with finding out who she is (Mary, of course!) and how she died.

This is a completely creepy book. Seriously. Not just the color palate; done in stark black and white, it adds to the sense of foreboding that is in the text. It’s got ghosts and dolls and psychological elements. It’s pretty intense. Which, if you like that sort of book, is a good thing.

The Countdown Conspiracy

by Katie Silvensky
First sentence: “Nearly every single person in this auditorium is wearing a T-shirt with my name emblazoned on the front.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Review copy provided by the publisher.
Content: There’s death, but it’s all off screen, and some mild crushes. There are also some intense situations. It’s in the middle grade (grades 3-5) section of the bookstore, but I’d probably not give it to the younger set, who might find it confusing.

Miranda is brilliant, especially when it comes to robotics. And so when she’s given the opportunity to apply for a Mars training program, she jumps at the chance, small as it may be. She gets in, and is off to Antarctica to train and learn with five other kids from around the world for their mission to Mars. Except things don’t go right. Her boat is attacked. The program is harder than she thought. Things are being sabotaged. And, possibly worst of all, some of the other kids are difficult to work with, and consider her a liability. It’s not at all what she expected.

So when the kids suddenly find themselves launched into space — which wasn’t supposed to happen for nine years! — the question becomes how on earth are they going to figure out how to get home?

I really enjoyed this book! There’s some good science fiction going on here: lots of science and technology, balanced out with a good plot (including a mystery: who is behind the bombings and attacks?) and some great characters. While there was more pre-space stuff than actual space stuff, it was still a lot of fun. Slivensky is a science educator and it shows; I felt that the science was both realistic and plausible and that she had done her research well. An excellent read.

Dear Mr. Henshaw

by Beverly Cleary
First sentence: “Dear Mr. Henshaw,  My teacher read your book about the dog to our class.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!
Content:  It’s simple without being simplistic, and deals with some tougher themes like bullying and divorce. It’s in the Newbery Medal section of the bookstore.

Even though I was the perfect age when this came out (I was 11 in 1983), somehow I missed it. Maybe I didn’t pick it up because by the time I was 11 I was reading Agatha Christie and trying to read War in Peace, and this would have seemed too simplistic for me. (Also, maybe the boy on the cover turned me off? I don’t know.) But, having read it now (for the first time!), I’m sorry I missed out on it.

It’s the story of a boy, Leigh Botts, who writes to his favorite author, and over the course of the book, figures out a bit about himself. His parents are divorced; his dad’s a trucker and his mom works at a catering company. He doesn’t see much of his dad at all, and because he’s in a new school, he’s finding it difficult to make friends. And so he turns to Mr. Henshaw, his favorite author, writing him letters. Eventually, those letters become a journal, and eventually that journal helps Leigh figure out things. At least a little bit.

This is the sort of book I needed when I was 11. We had just moved and I was starting a brand-new school in sixth grade, one where everyone had grown up together and I was most definitely the outsider, so I could completely empathize with Leigh. No, my parents weren’t divorced, but I understood his loneliness and his desire to be accepted and loved. I loved that there was a teacher who was good to Leigh, but didn’t play the “inspiring teacher” role. Leigh did figure things out by himself, with just a bit of guidance by the author and his teacher and his mom.  It was delightfully different from the other Cleary books I read this summer, more weighty and less, well, simplistic. It ended hopefully but not happily, and it gave me things to think about. And I think it definitely deserved the Newbery Medal it won.

Excellent.