by Lenore Look
ages: 6-10

Alvin Ho is allergic: to girls, school, bridges, substitute teachers, the dark… pretty much everything. And he has a quirk about it, too. It makes him clam up. He can’t say a word. He’s okay at home, on the bus, playing outside (for the most part), but when he’s scared, there’s nothing. Nada. Not a sound. Which makes it hard to make friends. (Well, that, and the fact that he carries his Personal Disaster Kit everywhere. A boy can’t be too prepared.) Still, he tries, and through a series of mishaps and pseudo-adventures, he manages to figure some things out.

It’s probably too simple to say that I adored this book. It’s partially because it reminded me of a nephew — not so much the scared part, but the mishaps and adventures — but also because it was so dang entertaining. I wanted to wrap him up and put him in my pocket as a mom, but I could see how he’d be exciting and amusing and fun for kids to read. Especially younger, beginning readers, or those who aren’t as interested. I’d say call it Clementine or Moxy Maxwell for boys, but I think girls would get into it too. (I did.) The best part, though: Alvin’s Wonderful Glossary at the end. That made the book just about perfect.

I’m off to send it to my nephew, and am pretty confident he’ll enjoy it as much (if not more) than I did.

(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 Gigi Amateau
ages 10-14, but a younger horse lover might like it, too

I am not a horse person. Never have been. I’ve read Black Beauty and The Black Stallion, but neither really stayed with me. I don’t particularly have an affinity for horse books. (I also know I’m not supposed to start a review out this way, but bear with me.) Yet, I found myself captivated with this book. I don’t know if it’s enough to change me into a horse person, but Amateau’s love of the horse came through the story, not just loud and clear, but in such a way that I couldn’t help but care, too.

Chancey is an albino Appaloosa. This, for various reasons, leads to a hardship in his life when, after 20 years, his owner goes bankrupt and he is unable to be sold. Eventually — after months of neglect and abandonment — he’s sold to a stable-school, where he meets 10-year-old Claire. Her parents are going through a divorce, and she’s suffering (internally, of course). Through Chancey, she finds her confidence again, and Chancey — after years of being hardened by abuse and neglect — finds that he can love. The two of them forge a companionship and partnership that will take Chancey through the twilight of his life, changing not only each other, but everyone they come in contact with.

Hubby pointed out, when we were talking about this book, that a lot of animal books aren’t actually about the animal, but rather those who are interacting with it. This one is not that way. Chancey is our narrator, our guide through this world. And for the most part, it works quite well. There are times when Amateau digresses into horse-lecturing (whether about breed, or status, or teaching) that I started to tune out, but when the story is actually going, progressing forward, Chancey is a wonderful guide and an interesting narrator. I liked seeing the world, and the human interactions through a horse’s eyes. I also think Amateau handled the dialogue quite well: Chancey talked, but only to other horses. The humans Chancey interacted with talked to him, but his communication back was limited to whinnys, nickers, and nudges.

And the ending is quite touching; it had me in tears. I’m not sure I’m going to go out and read a bunch of horse books, but I can highly recommend 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.)

by Lewis Buzbee
ages: 10-14

I’m not going to review the book — I liked it, well enough, but thought it fell apart in the end. Instead, since this is what I really liked from reading it, I thought I’d share some of the wonderful bookish quotes from the book.

“Every book he recognized opened up the world of that book to him. These weren’t stacks of paper bound together with glue or string–they weren’t items or products. Every book was an entire universe.” (p. 26)

“Reading a library book wasn’t something you did on your own. It was something you shared with everyone who had ever read that book. You read the book in private, yes, but other hands had been on it, had softened its pages and loosened its spine. With hardcovers, the clear shiny Bro-Dart, put on to protect the dust jacket, quickly got scuffed and crinkly, and sometimes you’d find a thumbprint pressed into the plastic. The book, when you were done with it, went back to the library, and from there to other hands. When you read a library book, you were connected to all these strangers.” (p. 56)

“When you read, the world really did change. He understood this now. You saw parts of the world you never knew existed. Books were in the world; the world was in books.” (p. 89)

Isn’t that so true?

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

by Janette Rallison
ages: 10-14
Publication date: January 6, 2009

Sixteen-year-old Savannah has a perfect life… or at least the perfect boyfriend. That is, until he decides that he’s more attracted to, and compatible with, Savannah’s older sister, Jane. All of a sudden, things are looking pretty bleak: after all, who will take Savannah to the prom? Enter Chrissy, Savannah’s “Fair” (she’s going to school, and hasn’t quite earned the whole “fairy” part yet) Godmother. She grants (well, sort of) Savannah three wishes, which creates a bit of a mess. Savannah’s sent back to the Middle Ages in the role of Cinderella, then Snow White, and then Chrissy sends Savannah’s friend Tristan back to become a prince. By this time, Savannah’s a bit fed up with Chrissy, yet Savannah braves the Middle Ages one more time to help Tristan accomplish his quest. And possibly fall in love in the process.

I read this one out loud to C, and aside from a few pages in the prologue where I was wondering if it was a bit too high-school-romancey for her, we both really enjoyed it. It was more fluff than depth, but I thought it worked well for the tale. Savannah spent most of the book being dogged on by other people (she didn’t take school seriously enough, she was just underfoot), but in the end, she understood things and worked with what she had quite creatively. Additionally,there was sufficient adventure to keep C interested (but not too many cliffhangers), and Rallison uses the traditional fairy tales quite creatively. We both especially liked her treatment of the Snow White story.

And it had the most important requirement for reading aloud (at least in our house): lots of fun characters with accents. (My personal favorite was Clover T. Bloomsbottle, the jaded leprauchan.) It was also pretty funny; I’m not sure how much of the humor C “got”, but I was laughing at all the asides and clever references. I’m not sure how well this would stand up if I had read it by myself, but I really enjoyed reading it aloud.

Which is okay, too.

by Siobhan Dowd
ages: 10+

I was fascinated by this book. I’m still trying to decide if “fascinated” translates into “good” and “liked it” — I think it does — but I do think fascinated is an accurate way to describe my response.

Ted’s brain works on, as he calls it, a “different operating system”. He recognizes systems and patterns — he loves weather, most of all — but can’t understand nuances and idioms. He’s living a nice, quiet life with his parents and older sister, Kat, in London. Then his Aunt Glo and cousin Salim come to visit on their way from Manchester to New York City (they’re moving). Salim desperately wants to go up the London Eye (the link is for your information, since I had no idea that this was a real thing!). Ted, Salim and Kat were standing in line waiting for tickets when a stranger comes up and offers one ticket to them. Salim takes it, goes up the Eye, and… doesn’t get off. From there unfolds a mystery that only Sherlock Holmes — and possibly Ted — can solve.

I liked Ted as a character; he was sympathetic, and even though you knew he was what most people would call disabled in some way, it never felt like a handicap. He did get frustrated when people wouldn’t listen to him, and by the way his sister often treated him, but he was a very determined character. And a very interesting narrator. As for the mystery, well, I’m no judge of mysteries, but this one was pretty good. The adults were dissolving into panic, but betweeen Ted and Kat they were able to look at the situation and reason it out. I’m not sure if that would work for all readers, but it worked for me. I have read a couple of reviews that complained that Dowd broke a fundamental mystery rule in that the reader couldn’t have figured it out, but I’m not so sure. Then again, I never figure out a mystery before the detective does, so I’m a lousy judge of that.

The book does stick with you, though. I’m finding that I’m thinking about it off and on since I finished it, wondering if it was really plausible, wondering about Ted’s unique operating system, musing about the whole situation.

That’s usually a sign that it’s a good book. Isn’t it?

(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 Wendy Mass
ages 8-12

Yesterday, I saw a lovely review of this book over at Fuse #8, which coincidentally enough, I had just brought home from the library. I thought that it sounded like something that I would enjoy, and began it this afternoon. I couldn’t put it down.

I’m having trouble putting my effusive thoughts into coherent sentences (the Alvin and the Chimpmunks Witch Doctor in the background isn’t helping!), so I’ll just stick with a bullet list:

• Basically, it’s the story in the voices of three (well, four) kids: Ally, a homeschooled girl who lives at Moon Shadow campground, and has been preparing for the advent of a solar eclipse her whole life, and who is faced with the impending move back to suburbia; Bree, a A-list girl, whose whole life is fashion and shopping, and who is being summarily uprooted from her suburban life when her parents decide to take over the running of Moon Shadow; and Jack, an overweight loner who failed science and is stuck going to see the solar eclipse instead of going to summer school.

• I loved that this book was about astronomy. Honestly, that was the only thing I remember from 8th grade science, but I really love going out and looking at stars and the moon. This book captured the awe that stargazing can make a person feel very eloquently.

• I liked how Mass did the three voices. Each one was disctint, with a voice I could literally hear in my head, but they all interconnected in ways in order to propel the story forward. There were only a few instances where I felt like the narrative sagged, and it wasn’t enough for me to really care.

• In the same vein, I liked how Mass treated her characters. Bree was one that I could see myself being annoyed at, but I found myself sympathizing with her and eventually even liking her. But it wasn’t just Bree: all of the characters (even the 20-something eclipse chaser dudes) were likable. Even though we only heard the narrative from three of the kids, I wound up liking pretty much everyone who had a place in the book.

• All that said, I actually learned stuff from this book. (It’s not often I can say that!) Mass threw an awful lot of astronomy in the book, and did so in a way that felt completely organic to the story. Of course Ally’s going to go off about stars and nebulae: it’s been her whole life for as long as she can remember. I just happened to pick up a few interesting facts along the way.

• Given all the science and narrative and everything else, what I really liked was that this was a book about change and hope. And looking for the best in everything — from situations to people.

• Oh, and don’t forget to read the author’s note at the end.

(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.)

Savvy
by Ingrid Law
ages: 9 (I would say 10, but call it fourth gradeish)+

Mississippi Beaumont (she’d rather you call her Mibs) is about to turn 13. The thing is, in her family, that’s when your savvy hits. It’s kind of like a super-power, but it’s not. Mibs’s brother Rocket is trying to control electricity, her grandpa moves land around (to hear him tell the story, Idaho was his fault), and her brother Fish controls the weather. Naturally, Mibs is excited (if not a little bit anxious) to find out what her savvy will be. However, the night before her birthday, her Poppa is in a car accident and lands in a hospital in Salina, Kansas. From there, a series of events unfolds that makes Mibs’s birthday one of the most unforgettable of her life.

Law had charmed with this book. At least, when I started it yesterday, I was. I think if I had finished it yesterday, I might have been bubbling over the top with praise, but I put it down, and didn’t get around to finishing it until later this afternoon. As a result, I felt like it was missing something. Like the end didn’t maintain the momentum that the beginning set up.

In the end, though, I do think it’s a very, very good book, with very, very good characters and a very, very entertaining plot. I liked Mibs’s savvy, and the way she learned to deal with and use it. But it was more than that: I liked Mibs as a character; she was a good-hearted, sweet, girl who was determined and stubborn when she needed to be. I liked the adventure she and her brothers and the preacher kids went on. And I appreciated the ending, even if it didn’t wow me as much as the beginning did.

It’s definitely worth reading.

Daisy Dawson is on Her Way!
by Steve Voake
ages: 6-9

On the completely opposite end of the spectrum from Savvy, we have Daisy. It’s a quiet, sweet little book without much conflict but with some wonderful illustrations.

Daisy is like many other girls: she gets up, she goes to school, she likes animals. The liking of the animals, however, seems to get in the way of going to school. On the way, she stops, watching and helping all the little and big animals she sees. As a result, she’s usually late to school. This amplifies one day, when Daisy discovers that the animals can talk back. This leads to some fun friendships (and some interesting exchanges) and a daring rescue attempt of a sweet dog named Boom.

I think what I liked best about the book was Voake’s matter-of-fact way of handling Daisy. He simplified everything for the youngest chapter-book readers, but he didn’t talk down to them at all. It’s very descriptive, but in as few words as possible, he captures the essence of Daisy’s heart and personality. I also liked how he touched on growing up, ever so lightly, when Daisy is trying to figure out whether or not her gift for talking to animals is a “real” one. She tells herself that she needs to grow up and come down to earth, but the animals — wisely — talk her out of it. Sure, maybe someday she’ll grow up and not be able to hear the animals, but for now, she’s enjoying all her newfound friends.

As did I.

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