by Susan Cooper
ages: 10+
First sentence: “Only one newspaper carried the story in detail, under the headline: Treasures Stolen from Museum.”
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I found as I read this one last night, that I remembered it more than any of the others (save Dark is Rising). I think, upon reflection (such as it is right now), that it’s because Jane is the most crucial to the plot. She doesn’t do the most — that’s fairly equally distributed among the boys — but she is essential to the arc of the story in a way she wasn’t in Over Sea, Under Stone. And I liked that.

The Drew kids are back in Trewissick, mostly because the Grail (which they had found only the summer before) has been stolen. They know it’s the Dark that did it, because Merriman (or Great-uncle Merry; though Cooper stops calling him that about halfway through the book) is suddenly around again to solicit their help. Except this time, Will Stanton is along for the ride. There’s your usual twists and turns and adventures, but they all seemed a bit subdued (or was it me, reading this late at night?) compared to the previous two books. Barney gets captured by the Dark (again), Simon’s a bit bristly, Will is still his Old self (which puts both Barney and Simon off, the why of which I never quite figured out), Merriman still lurks and guides, and Jane — seemingly insignificant Jane — saves the day.

It’s partially up to Jane because the title character, the Greenwitch, is a local Cornish tradition that only women can participate in. And because of a wish Jane made, a nice unselfish wish (I could get into women’s roles here, and how it’s stereotypical for the girl to be unselfish, but I won’t; mostly because I’m not quite awake), she’s the one the Greenwich turns to, once the magic sets in.

It wasn’t as dull as I found Over Sea, Under Stone to be, mostly because it’s a lot thinner, and the plot moves more quickly. And, for some reason, because Will is mostly a side character here. I actually found I liked this book. And now, on to the next one.

by Judy Blume, read by Halley Feiffer
ages: 10+
First sentence: “It’s very foolish to laugh if you don’t know what’s funny in the first place.”
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Final thoughts: MEAN GIRLS. Oh, my heck. Mean, mean, mean, mean girls. Please, please, please DON’T EVER let my girls be a Wendy, Jill, or even a Linda.

This was hard, hard book for me to listen to; I picked up the audio book because I knew I’d be driving today and I wanted to be able to multi-task for the 48 Hour Book Challenge. But, between the reader — she did a fantastic job making everyone supremely annoying — and my recent re-reading of Harriet the Spy, this book was almost too much to take. (Ask M; I was shouting at the CD at some points!)

Basic plot, if you’re like me and escaped reading this as a kid: Jill is your average 5th grader, not really popular, not really disliked. Until one day, the Queen Bee, Wendy, throws a note on her desk, suggesting a nickname for the chubby girl, Linda, in class: Blubber. Jill — for reasons unspecified, but known to every pre-teen and teenage girl — goes along with this, helping Wendy and her cronies make Linda’s life downright miserable. Harsh, harsh, mean, harsh, bullying, terrible: why would anyone want to be friends with Wendy? Seriously. (Yes, I know I’m reading this as an adult. Hubby got all philosophic on me: it’s a Hobbsian world… kill or be killed. But, still.) Anyway, eventually, things get turned around on Jill: she stands up for Linda, in a manner of speaking, and then finds herself on the bad end of Wendy’s stick. Thankfully, she has the balls to stand up for herself, even though it terrifies her (and unlike Harriet — I liked the reference Blume made to Harriet in the book; nice touch — doesn’t really retaliate, but takes the higher ground), and things kind of move on. Though there’s no resolution for Linda, which is something I, personally, wanted.

I think that’s what made it hardest for me: I identified, and sympathized, with Linda. I wanted her to stand up for herself, or someone to come to her rescue. And the fact that she really didn’t get that bothered me. Immensely. It’s more realistic like that — kudos to Blume for keeping it real (I realized that Laurie Halse Anderson reminds me quite a bit of Judy Blume), but still, it made for a bitter pill going down.

That said, I’m going to encourage C to read this book. Shoot, I think I’m going to buy it for my girls. It’s something they need to read.

by Joan Aiken
ages: 8-12
First sentence: “It was dusk — winter dusk.”
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Upon discovering that I haven’t read (it’s #58) this beloved classic, a dear friend of mine insisted upon it, even lending me her well-worn paperback copy. I couldn’t turn her down, and (sooner rather than later) got around to reading it this week.

And… I thought it was very cute. Not really hilarious, like the back said it would be, but very Noel Streatfeild kind of crossed with Roald Dahl, with a bit of Frances Hodgson Burnett thrown in.

It’s the story of two cousins: Bonnie (the rich, impulsive one) and Sylvia (the poor, sweet one). Sylvia’s parents have died and she lives with her old Aunt Jane. Aunt Jane can’t take care of her anymore, so she ships Sylvia to live with relatives at Willoughby Chase. It’s a harrowing train ride out there — the train is beset by wolves, which are common in that part of England. But, that notwithstanding, Sylvia is poised to have an enjoyable time living there, since she and Bonnie — and Bonnie’s friend Simon, a homeless boy who basically makes a living raising and selling geese — all get along swimmingly.

Enter Miss Slighcarp — Aiken has as much talent with names as Dahl does; doesn’t Slighcarp just sound evil? She’s the governess, and when Bonnie’s parents take off on a trip to the islands for Bonnie’s mother’s health, Miss Slighcarp basically takes over. (In fact, she’s in on a plot to sink the parent’s boat! The horror!) She cuts back on Bonnie and Sylvia’s freedom, she dismisses loyal servants, she’s mean, horrible, and in every way a very good Dahl villain. And things only get worse when she gets wind of Bonnie’s plan to get help: she ships Bonnie and Sylvia off to Mrs. Brisket (again: what a great name!), who runs a “orphanage” (read: workhouse) for girls. It’s only with Simon’s help that plucky Bonnie (because even though delicate, sweet Sylvia tries to be Brave, the circumstances are Too Much for her) and Sylvia are able to escape to London to get help and all the bad guys get their comeuppance.

It is a delightful romp through the English countryside, and nothing like I thought it would be. Which is a good thing, all around.

by Louise Fitzhugh/Read by Anne Bobby
ages: 8-12
First sentence: “
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We took this audiobook on our recent vacation to Kansas City. I had remembered liking it — nay, loving it — while I was a kid, and I wondered how it would hold up. That, and I figured C needed to read it, since we own it and she’s shown no interest in cracking the actual book.

It started out as just Hubby — who had never read it — and I listening to it. He was astounded, and kept making remarks like, “These people are horrible!” and “They’re all insane!” By the end, we were all listening, the girls were begging for the next tape, and yet they couldn’t believe what a brat Harriet was. And, you know: while it was a decent story, and it held together on its own terms, they were all right.

To refresh your memory: Harriet is an only child living in a Manhattan house. It’s probably the 1960s (when the book was written), and she has both a nurse and a cook, because her parents are too busy working or doing whatever uppity Manhattan socialites do to actually, y’know, parent. The nurse is Ole Golly who encourages Harriet in her precociousness, most particularly in her desire to become a spy (she sneaks around the neighborhood spying in on a few particular families) and her copious observing and note-taking. Of everything and everybody.

If this is not weird enough — Hubby was saying that Harriet was a bit pathological and OCD about her notebooks — Ole Golly falls in love, gets married (after getting fired) and leaves. Which sends Harriet into an emotional tailspin. On top of that, her classmates find her notebook and read it. All the nasty, yet honest, observations that Harriet has made about each one of them, which were never meant for anyone’s eyes. They all declare war on Harriet, even her two best friends Sport and Janie. No one will talk to her, they ostracize her from their doings, they essentially leave her alone. Which (of course), makes matters worse. Now, to be fair: they shouldn’t have read Harriet’s notebook. But then again, Harriet doesn’t take it well: she retaliates full-force. And to be fair, again: her parents are a piece of work. They eventually take her to a shrink, who’s one of the only sane adults (nay, characters) in the book, and he gives them a plan of action. Which, thankfully, solves the day.

I’m split about this one, honestly. I did like it: it was funny, it was interesting, and Anne Bobby did a terrific job narrating the book. But. I didn’t like Harriet; no one liked Harriet. I didn’t like most of the characters in the book. In fact, it almost had that awful “oh, no what’s going to happen next” feel to it. What horrible thing is Harriet going to see? What horrible thing is Harriet going to do? What horrible thing are they going to do back? It never quite crossed over into the too much camp, but the vibe was there.

But, it was entertaining. Everyone was interested in the story, and that has to count for something.

Doesn’t it?

by Margaret Peterson Haddix
ages: 8-12
First sentence: “The light woke Jessie, though it was just a glimmer downstairs.”
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Jessie is a thirteen-year-old girl living in the village of Clifton, Indiana in the year 1840. She’s curious, loves doing dares, and is pretty much happy with her life. Until a diphtheria epidemic breaks out in her village, and her mother, concerned, breaks some news to Jessie: it’s all a hoax. The year is really 1996, the village is a tourist attraction (where the tourists are hidden); the adults were in on the “gimmick”, and were supposed to tell their children when they turned 12. However, things have made a turn for the worse, and the owner’s “men” have people terrified of leaving, or even spilling the secret. Since her mother feels that letting children die as part of a gimmick is unethical — which isn’t the only unethical decision adults make in this book — she asks Jessie to brave the real world and get some modern medicine to help. Jessie has no choice: she has to go, even though the thought of it terrifies her.

The dichotomy between the modern world and the life Jessie has known is, of course, fascinating. Jessie has to figure out most of the things we take for granted: light bulbs, toilets, refrigerators. But there’s also a tension: the palpable feeling that someone is out to get her, even if you don’t know fully the reason why. But that’s where the book fails. Haddix sets up the conflict, and makes Jessie quite awe-struck at what the modern world has to offer. But when resolving all the conflicts, addressing the unethical behavior of the adults, she completely falls apart. Part of it is age group: you can’t address the craziness of Jessie’s father — who truly believes it’s 1840 — or the unethical behavior of the man who set up the village in the first place in a middle grade book. And so, Haddix just ends the story. There is an interesting promise for the future, but no actual, real resolution.

What I found myself most interested in, though, is the mother: what were her motivations for going along with the father? What did she think of all this? Did she ever want to leave? Why did she stick with it for as long as she did?

Maybe, someday, Haddix will tell that story.

by E. D. Baker
ages: 8-11
First sentence: “‘We can’t let it happen again,’ Queen Karolina said.”
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Review copy sent to me by the publisher.

In a world where everyone royal is enhanced by magic — handsomer, prettier, better — Princess Annabelle (Annie to her friends) stands out. She doesn’t have any magic. In fact, no magic will work on her, and the longer she’s around, the less potent others magic becomes. So, she’s not exactly welcomed by her parents, or her sister Gwendolyn who, they say, is the most prettiest princess in all the kingdoms.

So, when Gwendolyn pricks her finger on a spindle and puts the entire castle to sleep, it’s up to Annie and one of the king’s guards, Liam (who was out running an errand when the spell hit), to find Gwendolyn’s true love and bring him back to the castle to wake her up.

One of the most charming things about this book was the myriad of fairy tales it breezes through: there’s Sleeping Beauty, of course, but also Hansel and Gretel, Rose Red, Princess and the Pea, Rapunzel, as well as a host of others that I’m sure I missed. The more one knows about fairy tales, the more fun this book is. That’s not to say that it isn’t fun on its own: Annie is a plucky character, and there is more than one instance where she manages to get out of scrapes (no damsel in distress in this book!) or into humorous situations because of her non-magic status. There’s no real bad characters, and sure, the romance that blossoms is to be expected, and the dialogue is a bit stilted, and… but, you know, it works. It’s charming, it’s light, it’s fun, it’s a fairy tale with some clever twists.

And, really, it’s quite delightful.

by Susan Cooper
ages: 10+
First sentence: “‘Too many!’ James shouted, and slammed the door behind him.”
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When Kelly at The Written World suggested doing another read buddy read and I found that she had stopped reading The Dark is Rising sequence after the first book (understandable), I suggested reading this one. I’m always up for an opportunity to spread the joy of my favorite mid-winter read. Thankfully, she was willing to go along with me on that. Head over to her blog for the first half of our conversation.

Melissa: Perfect sense. Though I wonder if a lot of the niceness is a result of the time it was written in 1974. I know when I go back and reread books from the 70s, I’m struck with how, well, different they are from the books that are written now. It’s almost as if we had a completely different sensibility back then. Then again, a story is almost as much a reflection on the time it’s written as anything else. There’s much about this book that can be pointed to the conflicts in England and the world in the 1970s (not just the language… the one that struck me was calling a girl a “bird”), rather than it being just an overall fantasy story. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it? I don’t suppose you’re going to bother with the rest of the series then?

Kelly: Yeah, it is the time that it was written in. When I was a kid it didn’t bother me, but as an adult I guess I am into more ‘risque’ writing. It’s the same with say Carolyn Keene. When I was a kid I liked Nancy, but when I go back and reread that series now I find it way too ‘nice’. My reading has just evolved since I was a kid and I am interested in other things, I guess. You are seeing things that I didn’t even think about. I think I went into the book not expecting to like it at all, so I didn’t read too far into things! I might read the rest of the series; I own them all, but I am not in any particular hurry to do so. Hopefully I enjoy our next buddy read better!

Melissa: Maybe I’ll let you choose it next time. 😀

by Joni Sensel
ages: 11+
First sentence: “The moon refused to hush or come down, so Ariel Farwalker was forced to climb up.”
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Review copy provided by the publisher.

A little while ago, Charlotte reminded me how much I loved The Farwalker’s Quest, and reminded me that I really wanted to read the sequel. So, off the shelves it came, and (as I expected) I was not disappointed.

Ariel has been plagued by the moon speaking to her. She, initially thought she was going crazy, but as the voices in her head become more insistent, she’s realized that she needs to heed what the moon — and her feet — are saying. That she needs to go, somehow, and find the sender of the telling darts that were the starting point of her first journey. So, she and Scarl — her father figure, friend and protector — head south, with only Ariel’s instincts and a vague map/calendar to guide them, not knowing what they’ll find.

Like Farwalker, much of the joy in this book is in the world that Sensel has created. Going south gives her a reason to introduce us to more of this world, including a swamp village, Skunk, where Ariel finds friends, traveling companions, and even a first love. They discover more remnants of the world before the Blind War, and find that perhaps not everyone has completely forgotten the old ways. And, in a very interesting use of fantasy conventions, they do find the answers to the questions that led them on this journey.

Sensel is not only a gifted world-builder, she has a knack for involving the reader in her world, for making us care about the characters and the situations. She is also a master at keeping us — or at least me — as readers engaged. It’s a lyrical book, but it’s never slow, and full of enough twists and turns to keep me guessing as to how it will all turn out. My only quibble is with the ending — it seemed a little too… convenient. Pat. And yet, confusing. I knew what was going on, but I had to read it through twice to fully “get” it.

Still, that’s a small quibble, and it doesn’t ruin the book at all. If you haven’t experienced the world that Sensel has built, do. It’s thoroughly captivating.