Katya is 11 years old. It’s April 1986, and she lives just outside of Chernobyl, Ukraine. For those of you older than 22, you know where this story is going. For those of you younger, let’s just say that April 26, 1986 was a day that not many people will forget: the day that the Chernobyl Nuclear Reactor exploded. Katya’s caught in the middle of it; not only having to evacuate her little village for Kiev, but because her father works for the power plant, having to move back, and deal with life near the Dead Zone. Everything about her life changes that day, from something as simple as her friendships and hair color, to the more complex and worrisome health issues.

Andrea White takes this horrific event and gives it a personal touch, which makes it all the more haunting, in my opinion. She fills the book full of facts (with footnotes!) so that it feels like a memoir, rather than a fiction novel. I liked that touch; it made Katya come alive in ways that a straightforward fiction book wouldn’t have. There’s also sub-issues of conflict between Katya’s party-line father, repeating the Communist Party line that nothing was wrong. There’s an undercurrent of hatred and mistrust for the party leaders, for the things they put their people through in the name of the State and the Party. If I didn’t know that it truly happened, I’d be disbelieving: how could a government do that to their citizens. There’s a line at the end, that Katya believes the coverup of Chernobyl lead to the Ukraine’s decision to leave the USSR by 1991, and I believe it. Moscow treated the Ukranian citizens abominably.

This book is haunting, and difficult to get through, but only because the events were haunting and difficult to get through. White handles this with grace and style and love, and makes it all come alive. Which makes this book worth reading.

(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.)

I didn’t read the first Ellie McDoodle book, but C absolutely loved it. Thought it was grand. So I was interested in reading this one, and I can see what C was talking about. It is cute. And fun.

Ellie’s being uprooted by her parents the summer before 6th grade (I can relate!). It’s not fun. It’s not exciting. She hates being the new girl. No one likes her. It’s different, it’s unfamiliar, it’s… well, and upside down heart. But, she slowly makes friends, and figures out how to make things work, and in the end, everything turns out okay (I can relate!).

I think this is a good book for less confident readers — the words are interspersed with some fun cartoonish drawings. And I liked that Barshaw tackles a subject like relocating and starting over. She does it with humor and tenderness, and I rooted for Ellie to make things work out for the best. My only real criticism is that it was probably overly simplistic; Ellie was all settled in and comfortable (mostly) in her new environment in a matter of weeks, where in real life (I can relate, remember?) it takes months. But, since this is a story, not real life, I can forgive that.

Interestingly enough, C didn’t like this one as much as she liked the first. Perhaps it was because we relocated her when she was younger than Ellie (only 1st grade, not 6th), and she’s never really had the problems of fitting in and making friends. But I could have seen my 6th grade self really loving this book. And I can see other kids who have had to move just adoring it.

Which means it was a very good book.

(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.)

I was totally charmed by this book. Sure, it’s a book about a kid who solves puzzles to win stuff (my initial thought was “oh, dear, ANOTHER puzzle book?”) but the feel of the book completely won me over. I smiled. I cheered. I was thoroughly entertained.

The Gollywhopper Toy Company is having a contest to celebrate its 50th anniversary. only 2500 kids, ages 11 to 15, will be allowed to compete, and Gil Goodson is one of those kids. The son of a former Gollywhopper executive (he was arrested under suspicion of embezzlement, but ended up wtih a not guilty verdict after a trial), Gil is determined to win. Partially to “get back” at the company that made his father’s (and his) life so miserable, but partially because he’s made a deal with his dad: if Gil wins, they’ll move.

The book is mostly about the games — a series of questions and puzzles that Gil (and the decreasing number of contestants) have to solve. It’s a bit like Mysterious Benedict Society that way, except that Gil isn’t one of those pretentious geniuses figuring everything out. In that way, I think that The Gollywhopper Games is more accessible: Gil’s just a regular guy who happens to be pretty good at deductive reasoning. The puzzles were tricky, but nothing over the top. And yeah, they were kind of fun to figure out. But it’s also about Gil making peace with the past, about working together, and about gaining the confidence to do not only what is right, but what you think you can do. It’s not an especially challenging or even plot-heavy book, but I’m not sure that’s the point. I think it’s more about the mood — about having fun and doing your best, and enjoying the ride while you’re at it.

Of course Gil wins in the end– like Charlie Bucket, there’s no doubt that he would. But getting there is a whole lotta fun. Which makes it charming, fun, and ultimately quite satisfying.

(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. Thank you.)

I picked this one off the library shelves because it was a Cybils nominee, but I knew nothing beyond that. Turns out that it’s a second-in-a-series, but, hey, I found out that it works well as a stand-alone. I’m curious to know what happened in the first adventure, but Stewart did a smashing job working it into the plot of this book, so I really didn’t feel too left out. (Which, I suppose, could be a complaint: I wonder if it came off as too heavy-handed on the back story for those who’ve read the first one?)

The basic plot surrounds four children — Reynie, Sticky, Kate and Constance (who’s only three, an important point to remember) — who are geniuses, children with “special” talents, and part of a society founded by their patron, and friend, Mr. Benedict. This book takes place a year after the first adventure, when the four were going to meet Mr. Benedict for a special surprise. However, it turns out that Mr. Benedict, along with his assistant, Number Two, has been kidnapped by their nemesis, Mr. Curtain, and is being held for ransom. And (because it is the way in these books), it’s up to the four to follow Mr. Benedicts clues and rescue him. And (because it is the way of these books), it doesn’t go exactly to plan, ensuring that adventures, near-scrapes, and some close calls will occur.

Sounds corny, but I really enjoyed this book. Sure, my sophisticated brain was saying “These kids are precocious twerps” and “yeah, right” but, as is the way with blow-em-up-movies, I was having too grand a time to care. I liked the precocious kids, especially how they worked together. If there ever is a book about mind over matter (brains over brawn!), this is one. Hooray for the geeky genius kid who knows everything. But beyond that, the book screams for it not to be taken seriously. A random passage:

“How do you know all that? Constance asked.

Milligan glanced at her. She was sitting up straight in the passenger seat — unlike the others she hadn’t needed to duck — and Milligan frowned as something occurred to him. “You should be in a child’s car seat. It’s dangerous without one.”

Constance looked at him incredulously. “Are you joking?”

“A bit. Still, let’s do buckle up, everyone.” Keeping his eyes on the road, Milligan reached across and pulled down Constance’s seat belt strap, which because of her height (or lack thereof) ran diagonally across her face. She glared at him with her one visible eye.

“Feel free to adjust that,” Milligan said, giving her a lop-sided grin.

I think it’s meant to be all in good fun (nobody gets killed, for heaven’s sake), and for the sense of adventure — and friendship, and working-together-ness — to win out over anything more sinister. And I think the book is better for it. If it had been serious (think, oh, Alex Rider), I probably would have mocked it for its pretentiousness. But because it’s lighthearted, because it invites you to laugh along with the story, it’s able to tell a pretty far-fetched story without seeming heavy-handed. (And come off with a good “moral” in the end.) As and added bonus: no cliff hangers, no to-be-continued; the story nicely wraps itself up, while leaving just the slightest thread that could be spun into yet another book.

Which makes it that much better.

(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. Thank you.)

After reading Sarah Miller’s enthusiastic review of this today, I went upstairs and plucked it off my pile (it being there because it’s one of the Middle Grade Cybil nominees). I’m so very glad I did.

It’s a beautiful book — both to look at and to read. There are no illustrations, but the poems themselves are works of art. Each poem is a shape of the diamond willow sticks (for a picture, either go to Sarah’s or to Helen Frost’s website), with a darker hidden message in each one. I loved paging through the book, just looking at each individual shape (I don’t think there are two alike). But in addition, the words themselves are carefully, simply and yet powerfully chosen. I like how each poem each builds the story towards a most satisfying conclusion.

The story is pretty simple: Willow, a 12-year-old part-Native Alaskan who lives in a remote town, is struggling with herself, with school, with finding happiness. She begs her parents to drive the sled (with three dogs) to her Grandparents house one weekend, and on coming back there’s an accident. From there, it builds and to go on would spoil your experience, so I won’t.

There are so many things to like in addition to the simple beauty of the book. There’s the ancestors spirits who are guiding and helping Willow along her path. There’s a subtle, understated humor about it. There’s a respect and love of nature. There’s a wonderful human-dog relationship (which made me think of my sister, who would love this book). And I think Frost captured the insecurities and hopes and determination of a 12-year-old who is trying to find herself.

In all, it was one of the best hours I’ve spent in a long time.

(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. Thank you.)