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.)

I started this post with the intention of picking ONE of these two books as the best. But, I can’t do it. It’s like choosing one of my girls as a favorite: I love them all equally, but differently. Just like I love both Clementine and Moxy.

Clementine’s Letter by Sara Pennypacker
Ages: 7 (reading chapter books) +

Admittedly, this was my first dip into Clementine’s world. I bought C a copy of the first Clementine, on a recommendation from Pam (probably, though it could have been someone else; so many people loved the book). She adored it. So much that when she saw The Talented Clementine at a school book fair last year, she bought it with her own money. When this one appeared on our doorstep, she was ecstatic. She nabbed it, went to her room, and came out blissful.

I can’t blame her. Clementine is charming, precocious, lovable, endearing and just plain cute. In this book, she’s just getting the hang of third grade, when her teacher is suddenly pulled away because the principal nominated him for a Teacher’s Only award that would take him away to Egypt for the rest of the year. Clementine is stuck with a substitute for the week, and can’t seem to stop getting in trouble. The only way out is to make sure her teacher does NOT get that award, so when the class is asked to write letters to the judges about their teacher, her’s is about how awful and terrible he is.

The thing I liked most about Clementine’s Letters was Clementine herself. I liked how she was always giving her younger brother vegetable names (makes sense). I liked how she’d try and try and it still wasn’t just quite right, because she’s the sort of girl who colors outside the lines. I liked her family and her friends. They’re quite an awesome bunch. But I think what I liked most of all was the warm fuzzy feeling the book gave me. It’s just so cute and happy I want to wrap it up and put it in my pocket.

(Is that a bad thing for a book to be? I think not, especially when it’s sincerely cute, and not at all saccharine-y and does not talk down to the reader. It’s good, honest cuteness, which is always the best kind.)

Moxy Maxwell Does Not Love Writing Thank-You Notes
Ages: 8+

Moxy on the other hand, is not cute. (Well, she’s not trying to be anyway.) She’s precocious and endearing though. And funny. I laughed more while reading Moxy Maxwell than I did during Clementine, because Moxy is outright funny. I think it’s part Moxy’s voice — always sighing, always trying to get out of what she’s supposed to be doing (and being very inventive about it), and part of is is the way Peggy Gifford writes. As an example I give you:

Chapter 25
In which Mark Says No

“No.”

That’s it. The entire chapter. Which totally cracks me up.

I should back up again and explain the story. Moxy’s had a wonderful Christmas, and she’s looking forward to spending a week in Hollywood with her dad and twin brother, Mark. However, before she goes, she MUST (and there will be “consequences” if she doesn’t) write the thank you notes for her Christmas presents. The whole book is Moxy trying to procrastinate that using various means (including copiers and spray paint). It’s a small premise with grand implications. (At one point, I was laughing so hard, but at the same time thinking that if it was my kid, I would SO TOTALLY kill her. If you read the book, you’ll know which part!)

I like that Gifford isn’t heavy handed in her lessons. We’ve got Moxy dealing with a dad who’s not exactly been the model father (they haven’t seen him in three years!), and a mother who’s giving (in Moxy’s opinion, anyway) unreasonable expectations, and a Christmas vacation that was supposed to be the Best Ever. But… Gifford makes us laugh, makes everything so over-the-top that you can’t help but love Moxy’s ideas and while we’re off looking at the hulabaloo, she sneaks in a quiet message about love and family. That’s talent for you.

And a marvelous book.

(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.)

Eleven, by Patricia Reilly Giff
possibly good for ages 10-12+

Sam MacKenzie is happy in his life, for the most part: he lives with his grandfather, Mack, above their wood shop; the other two store owners: Anima and Onji are also part of his family. Sam is talented with wood, helping Mack in their wood shop. Sam does have trouble reading, but with the support of his teachers and Mack, Anima, and Onji, it doesn’t really bother him much. That is, until the night before his 11th birthday, he’s snooping around trying to find his presents. He sneaks into the attic and finds a box with a newspaper clipping sticking out. It has a picture of him, as a three-year-old, and Sam is able to figure out the words “Sam Bell” and “missing”. Suddenly, his whole life foundation is rocked. Who is Mack? What do these dreams that have started resurfacing mean? He finds himself wondering: who is he, really?

In order to solve the mystery, Sam must read the newspaper article. In order to read the newspaper article, he must find someone to help him. The person he gets to help him is Caroline, a new girl, the daughter of artists, someone who never stays long in one place, and with whom he’s been assigned to work on project at school. Together, they work on figuring out Sam’s past, and in the process discover what frienship truly is.

I liked this book. They mystery is quite intense: at one point, I was imagining all sorts of sordid and wicked and horrible things that may have happened to Sam (what if Mack is some kind of kidnapper?). But that wasn’t the case (and it was most likely me reading into the book more than was there; I’m not sure a kid reading would get what I did out of it), and the ending was sufficently sweet and innocent, but not cloying. I also liked the friendship between Sam and Caroline: they weren’t best friends, but they worked well together, and their strengths played off each other in an interesting way. There was also none of that ew-your-a-member-of-the-opposite-sex stuff; there was a brief reference to it in the beginning, but Sam and Caroline quickly got past it, and worked together notwithstanding.

A good read.

The Trouble with Rules, by Leslie Bulion
possibly good for ages 9+

This one takes a slightly different spin on friendship, though it’s also between a girl and a boy. Nadie and Nick have been friends since kindergarten. They’ve done everything together. But, then they started fourth grade at the Upper Elementary School (grades 4-6; we had one like this when we lived in Macomb), and found out that boys and girls aren’t supposed to be friends. So, they pretend they aren’t. Except for when they’re working on the class magazine, and at home. Then Summer moves in and joins the class. Summer doesn’t know the “rules” and spends her first day “breaking” them, which inadvertantly gets Nadie in a whole lotta trouble. This, in turn, strains her relationship with Nick, and she “loses” her job on the magazine. It takes a couple of very bad weeks, but Nadie eventually figures things out, and learns how to walk against the popular tide.

I probably made it out to be more than it was, but I also liked this book. Mostly because I felt for Nadie. She had two really bad weeks, but they were also really important weeks, because she eventually learned a lesson that I think is important for all kids: it’s okay not to do what everyone else does. Even if that only means being friends with the boys. I liked the way Nadie worked on it, and how she figured out how to be herself and friends with Nick and make things work at school. I also liked Summer, her carefree attitude reminded me of a younger Stargirl — she ate weird, she sat on the boys side, she was friends with everyone. And because of that, she was initially shunned. I’m all for standing on your own, even if it is lonely (because it sometimes can be), because being an individual and not a part of the crowd is the better way to live. And this book addressed that in a way that I think kids could relate to and understand and accept.

Besides, it’s got a great scene with an exploding rotten potato. How can it not be good?

(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.)

Name the last book you read where the animal was the main character. Fairly easy, right? Think about the animal: what was it… dog? cat? bird? beetle?

Yup. The main character, for the most part, of Masterpiece is a beetle. Named Marvin. And, honestly, he’s so charming and adorable and… can a beetle be cute?… that it totally carries the book.

Marvin and his extended family live in the Manhattan apartment of the Pompadays: James, 11 years old, his mother, stepfather and baby brother. Marvin has a carefree life (for a beetle): learning to swim in a bottle cap, weekend excursions to the solarium, feasts of PopTarts. Then, on James’s birthday, he is given a pen-and-ink set from his father (who’s an artist). Marvin, wishing to give James something, draws a line drawing of the scene outside James’s window. Which sets off a chain events that eventually involves the work of 16th-century artist Albrecht Durer, a theft, a bunch of lies and a budding romance.

As I said before, it’s Marvin that makes the book worth reading. I was totally and completely charmed by Elise Broach’s imagining of the beetle world, from the descriptions of their house, to the adventures in the solarium, to the everyday workings of staying alive. (The best line, and I’ll have to paraphrase, was during a conversation between Marvin and his parents talking about divorce. Marvin asks why beetles don’t get divorced. His mother says something to the effect of, “Well, our lives are so short, we just want to live them happily and to the fullest.” She pauses, and adds, “Plus, beetles don’t have lawyers.”)

It’s also a book about friendship, as Marvin and James have to learn to communicate, trust each other, and work together. They form a unique bond (are there any other human-beetle pairings out there?) and manage to surpass the prejudices of Marvin’s family, as well as the human tendency to be repulsed at the little scurrying things. I enjoyed the friendship they built. In addition, I thought the resolution was completely plausible; Broach didn’t throw some sympathetic adult in the end, someone who would understand James’s relationship with a bug. James completely figure out how to solve the problem on his own, and managed to keep his relationship with Marvin intact in the process.

It’s not a perfect book, by any means. But there’s so much that’s charming about it that I willingly made it through the slow parts and the art lectures in order to experience more of Marvin’s world. Because it’s a completely captivating 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.)

What planet have I been on that I have not heard of Hilary McKay or read any of her books? Thank heaven for Cybils nominees… though there’s nothing like reading the last one in a series first. (Though it did quite well as a stand-alone.)

This book (and I’m under a strict deadline here; M needs the computer) was a totally, completely, wonderfully fun and endearing read. Loved Rose. Loved the Cassons in general: they were so, well, that Hugh Grant movie English endearing. Just wanted to wrap them all up and put them in my pocket. They made me laugh. They made me smile. They dealt with tough issues (abusive parents, divorce, single parenting) with humor and love.

Granted, I’ve got a huge soft spot for anything English, and this tickled it just perfect. But, even given my preferences, this book was a lot of… well… wonderful.

And as soon as I finish up my Cybils reading, I’m going to go find McKay’s other four books about this lovely family and read them. Most likely in order, too.

(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.)