by Beverly Donofrio
ages 8-12

Ally’s best friend is Betsy. It’s been that way forever (well, at least since kindergarten). They’ve done everything together always. But, on the first day of 5th grade, Ally discovers Betsy dumped her for their arch-enemy, Mona. Ally’s distraught, depressed, downcast, especially since this year is the Fifth Grade Talent show and she was going to perform in it… with Betsy! To add insult to injury, the only person who’s willing to be Ally’s friend is the new girl, Tina, who is odd, to say the least. After some bumps and fits, and a couple of very crucial decisions, Ally decides that maybe, just maybe, 5th grade will be okay after all.

This was an odd, quirky little book. That doesn’t equal bad; I read it out loud to C and we both really enjoyed it. It spurred some interesting discussions of the 70s — Ally’s parents are older, and Ally loves everything disco — and, more importantly, the nature of friendship. Tina’s an interesting character; strong and unafraid to be her own person. I really liked, and appreciated, that about her. Ally, though, I couldn’t quite get a bead on — the mix between 70s and present was a little off-putting (for me, at least; C didn’t mind so much), and I couldn’t quite figure out what Donofrio was trying to do with Ally. But, in the end, the book won me over: there’s so much enthusiasm, and heart, that I couldn’t help it.

My only real complaint, is that it didn’t come with a playlist. I think I could have used that.

(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 Pamela F. Service
ages 8-11

Zach is a perfectly normal kid. Good parents, doing well enough at school, a few friends. Except that he’s got this cousin, Ethan, who thinks that he’s an alien. Zach and Ethan had an encounter with a cat — they thought they heard the cat talk — when they were younger, and ever since then Ethan’s been trying to convince everyone that he’s an alien prince from another planet. Zach thinks it’s all nonsense, but he does his best to defend Ethan from the people making fun of him. I should say that he think it’s all nonsense, until Ethan notices two big, fat, ugly, bald guys who are constantly following them. He’s convinced they’re alien bad guys trying to kill him.

The thing is: what if he’s right?

I’m not sure what I was expecting when I started this book, but I know I wasn’t expecting to have as much fun with it as I did. I had a blast. It was quick-paced, fun, and interspersed with comic book-style illustrations, it was something that could engage a reluctant reader as well as entertaining more advanced ones. It even had a bit of a surprise ending (even if I could see it coming…) with a nice twist. And a promise of sequels.

Fun, no?

(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 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.)