Margaret and the Moth Tree

by Brit Trogen and Kari Trogen
ages: 8+
First sentence: “If this were a proper world, beautiful faces would belong to beautiful people.”
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Margaret was not one of those Lucky People for whom Good Things happen. Rather, even though she was Good, bad luck seemed to follow her. First, her parents died, and no one wanted to take her in. Cousin Amos, finally did, but he never spoke, so Margaret lived in a House of Silence. Then he died, and Margaret was taken in by Great-Aunt Linda, who was Very Proper. Then, she died, and at ten years old, Margaret was left Alone.

She was given into the care of the Concerned Ladies Club, which delivered her to what seemed to be a Fairly Nice Orphanage, run by the Beautiful Miss Switch. Except — as we are often reminded in this slim book — Appearances Can Be Deceiving: Switch is much like her name. When adults are around, she is all kindness and caring concern. But as soon as they depart, her True Nature comes out: she is horrible. Worse than horrible: cruel.

Margaret suffers Innumerable Torments at the hands of Switch and her Pets (the good-looking orphans; the rest are Dregs), but to her surprise, she hears Voices. It turns out that the moths in the backyard tree can talk (and only Margaret can hear them), and they are more than willing to help her Get Rid of Switch Once and For All.

I know all the capital letters makes me sound a wee bit sarcastic, but honestly, I found this book to be sweet. It was just the right length for an 8-year-old to get a handle on, and the story was neither Too Scary, Too Dark, or Too Preachy. In fact, I found it to be Quite Sweet.

And sometimes, that’s Just Right.

(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.) 

The Cup and the Crown

by Diane Stanley
ages: 10+
First sentence: “
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Molly, who was once a scullery maid and is now a lady, is best friends with the king. There’s no one he trusts more than her, it’s Molly (and her… something… boyfriend? best friend?… Tristan, as well as a knight, translator and a lady companion) that he sends to find the Loving Cup, something which the king will use to make a princess fall in love with him and marry him. (I think she was betrothed to his brother, who was murdered.)

Before I go much further, yes this is a sequel. And no, I didn’t read the first one first. (Though I kind of want to now. When there’s time.) In many ways, though, this one works as a stand-alone: Stanley gives you enough information to get the gist of the previous story, but I don’t think it got in the way of the telling of this one. I may have felt differently had I read book #1 first, but I didn’t, so there it is.

Anyway.

Molly goes on her quest to find the cup, which turns out her grandfather was a specialist in making. Also, it turns out her grandfather was from a super-secret magical place where Everything Is Perfect. Except when they find it, they arrest all Molly’s friends and take her prisoner. So they can teach her. And it’s for the protection of the city because if their secrets got out, it would be Bad.

For the most part, I really enjoyed this book. Molly’s a great character: strong, stubborn, opinionated, yet loyal, trusting, and resourceful. I enjoyed watching her figure out how to get out of her prison, and how her friends rallied around her at the end.

But, it also felt clunky. I think it went back and forth between the right amount of showing and telling, to lecturing me about what the characters were doing.  In the moments when there was a balance, I loved it, but then I would be jarred out of the story for a while, until I could get my groove again.

Maybe that’s a fault of my own, for not having read the first book, because I really did like the overall story (and while the story ended, I’m not sure it’s quite done). Even with its faults, it’s a 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.)

Jepp, Who Defied the Stars

by Katherine Marsh
ages: 13+
First sentence: “Being a court dwarf is no easy task.”
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It’s the late 1599, and Jepp is a sixteen-year-old dwarf, which is not a good thing to be during that time and in Amsterdam. While he has a mother who loves him and allows him to learn, he’s not really treated very well, and when a man he comes to call Don comes by the humble inn where Jepp lives to take him to the Infanta’s court in Brussels.

There, Jepp learns that his fate is much more precarious than he would have assumed. He’s expected to perform every night for the Infanta and her court, doing things that would demean any man.  Jepp, of course, chafes at this: he wants more out of life, wants to create his own fate as opposed to letting the whims of people determine who he is to be.

He falls in love with another dwarf, Lia, and when she becomes pregnant (not Jepp’s kid) they attempt to flee Brussels. Unfortunately, they are betrayed, and Jepp is thrown into prison and given (sold?) to Tycho Brahe, a Danish astronomer. Initially, Jepp is treated much as he was at the Infanta’s (bonus points for the drunken moose; which is actually a true fact: Brahe did have a moose as a pet!), but eventually is able to prove his worth, and find love.

This is a quiet, introspective novel, one that weaves historical facts with a story that resonated with me, at least. While I don’t think much happened plot-wise (there are several back stories that never get fully illuminated), the book does tend to make one thing about fate versus what you can actually achieve on your own. Jepp is a truly compelling character, one with spunk and pluck and a truly admirable drive given the discrimination he faced in his time. It’s a testament to the power of a personality.

Overall, it’s a bit uneven — the beginning was slow, and I enjoyed the Tycho Brahe chapters most — and all the characters tend to have the same voice. Even with those drawbacks, I found it to be a wonderful bit of historical fiction.

Boys and Author Events

In the past two weeks, I’ve gone to two different YA events at our bookstore.  (Sorry, no pictures. I forgot the camera both times.) The first one was with Brent Crawford and Rachel Hawkins, the second was with a first-time author, T. M. Goeglein. Both Crawford and Goeglein have books that guys should be reading (if they’re not), both are men (well, especially Crawford) who have made careers (and halfway decent ones, too) writing books for guys. And both were great (funny, intelligent, interesting) to listen to.

The problem?

No boys showed up. At either event.

Now, I kind of understand the first one: Rachel Hawkins was there, and she caters mostly to girls. But, I still have to wonder: where were the guys?

Maybe it’s just Wichita: the people who are more likely to come out to the store are older women mostly. And they’re the ones who are more likely to drag their kids and grandkids to an event. Maybe it was the time of the week: 7 p.m. on a Wednesday is a bit of a challenge, especially in a highly religious town like Wichita. Wednesday is Church Night. So, maybe if these events had been on a Saturday, things would have gone better.

But, I wonder: why is it that at two events where there are great male authors, why is it that not a single kid showed up.

And, I also wonder: how can we change that?

Ideas?

Audiobook: Clara and Mr. Tiffany

by Susan Vreeland
Read by Kimberly Farr
ages: adult
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Clara Driscoll is the head of the women’s department in the stained glass “factory” of Louis Comfort Tiffany. It’s the late 19th-century, and she adores her job, but there’s one caveat: Tiffany doesn’t allow married women to work for him. So, every time marriage looms, she loses girls. She, herself, at the start of the book, is coming back after her older husband died. The women’s department is an important one; they handle the artistic windows — and, eventually, lamps — for Tiffany, because Tiffany believes that women are more sensitive to color and choose it better than the men do.

 But, Clara has to deal with the changing times, with the turn of the century, with the demands of her heart, and eventually, with Tiffany’s unwillingness to appreciate her for both her art and herself.

I wanted to like this one, and sometimes I did. The narrator was good — nothing spectacular, but not annoying, either.  I enjoyed the whole stained glass part; I took a class a few years back, and that gave me enough knowledge to get a grasp on the artistic process that Vreeland was describing. And she described it well: I went, after, and looked up pictures of the windows and lamps she was describing, and they were fairly close to what I had pictured in my mind.

But honestly: it went on too long. Too much time, too few conflicts, too much describing, and too little happening. It’s not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it was just so slow. And I have other things I need to do with my time.

Deadly Pink

by Vivian Vande Velde
ages: 11+
First sentence: “My mother isn’t normally the kind of parent who comes to school and has me yanked out of class because she needs to see me.”
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Grace Pizzelli is your average teenager. Nothing special (at least nothing like her older sister, Emily, who seems to be Perfect), but nothing terrible either. Then, one day, the CEO of Rasmussem, Inc., the creator of the world’s best virtual immersion games, comes to school to pull Grace out. It seems that Emily, who was working as an intern at Rasmussem, has plugged herself into a game and reprogrammed it so she can’t come out. She only has hours left to live before the being connected to the game overheats her brain (or something like that) and kills her.

It’s up to Grace to go into the game and find a way to get Emily out.

Once in, Grace discovers that the game she was expecting (something Gruesome and Horrible) Emily to choose is not the game she chose. No, this game is all sprites and pink and princes and sparkles. Nothing deadly here, right? Well…. the longer they are in the game, the more sinister it becomes. It turns out that not everything pink is fun and good.

This was a lot of fun to read. Aside from the having to save a sibling theme (there are a lot of those this year, and I’ve only read a sixth of those nominated!), the idea of having a fluffy video game turn against its players is a creative one. And, Velde’s pacing is tight. She kept me involved an interested in how the game is going (and whether or not Emily was going to make it out) through the whole book. And even though it got moralistic (the reason why Emily plugged herself into the game were not, shall we say, entirely honorable) in the middle and again at the end, it wasn’t horribly heavy handed.

No, the only drawback to the book was that I wanted more: the world to get More Evil, the sisters to have to Endure More Trials. It was all too… fluffy in the end.

That said, call it punk gamer fluffy. Which is a kind of fluffy that I don’t mind.

(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.)

Gustav Gloom and the People Taker

by Adam-Troy Castro
ages: 9+
First sentence: “The neighbors though Gustav Gloom was the unhappiest little boy in the world.”
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Gustav Gloom isn’t really the unhappiest little boy in the world. He just lives in a house full of ghosts and shadows, and not real people. It’s hard to be really happy when you don’t have a family or friends. But he’s not sad, either. The only real danger he has is staying out of the way of the People Taker and his Beast. It’s not a bad life.

Then a family moves in across the street, one that has two little girls — Pearlie and Fernie — who court danger. So, of course, Fernie wanders over to the Gloom Mansion (in the middle of the night) following her wandering cat.  Little does she know what she’s in for… (cue sinister music)

To be honest: this really wasn’t all that scary. Maybe it’s because I’m an adult (I need to have A read it, just to see if it is scary), but the Terrifying Parts weren’t all that Terrifying. That said, it was a pretty good adventure, a nice tale of friendship, with just a smidgen of ghosts and baddies.

But what really won me over with this one (yes, it’s the start of a series, but from what I can tell, they’re all individual adventures), was that it’s really tightly written, and excellently plotted. There was enough going on to keep me turning pages, and I enjoyed the journey.

And sometimes, that’s all a book needs.

(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.)

The One and Only Ivan

by Katherine Applegate
ages: 9+
First sentence: “I am Ivan.”
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Months ago, I saw a review for this one over at Abby the Librarian, and I thought to myself: y’know, I ought to read that one.

But I’m not really into animal stories, and it kind of fell by the wayside. There is so much else to read, after all.

Then, we got the amazing luck to have it land on the Middle Grade Science Fiction/Fantasy list, for even though it’s not a fantasy in the traditional sense, it is a fantastical novel, something which probably could never happen, even though there’s a slight outside chance that it could.

I’m so happy we ended up with it.

Because, like Abby and others have said: it’s a wonderful novel.

Slim, written not in verse but rather in short sentences and chapters, it’s a story told by a gorilla in captivity. He’s not an especially happy gorilla, but he’s not an especially sad one either. Because his family was killed and he was sold when he was a baby, he doesn’t know anything other than captivity. He is friends with an old circus elephant and a mutt of a dog, and he has a sort-of relationship with Julia, the daughter of the nighttime janitor in the mall where Ivan lives.

He probably would have spent the rest of his life in his “domain”, until his owner buys a baby elephant, Ruby. Suddenly, Ivan has someone to protect. And he realizes that there could be more to his life, and Ruby, at least, deserves more.

It’s a simple novel, something that a third grader could get a grasp of. But it’s a powerful one: one that drew me into Ivan’s world, filled me with sympathy and love for these animals who just want to live a decent life. And yes, I did cry at the end.

It’s about time I read it. Beautiful.

(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.) 

Splendors and Glooms

by Laura Amy Schlitz
ages: 10+
First sentence: “The witch burned.”
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Ever since I finished this evocative work by Newbery-award winning author Laura Amy Schlitz, I’ve been trying to describe it. I’ve come up with “a slightly magic Dickensian-inspired story” (to which it was suggested that those who liked Claire Vanderpool’s Moon Over Manifest would probably like this one).  I’ve also described it as an “evil puppetmaster who mistreats two orphan children gets his due”, which is fairly accurate. And then there’s the “wizard vs. witch battle” angle as well.

It is a Dickensian story: set in late-19th century London, it’s the tale of two orphan children who are taken in by a Fagin-esque puppetmaster. The master, Grisini, has terrified the boy, Parsefall, into helping him pick pockets. But the girl, Liza Rose, is clueless about Grisini’s true nature. Then a series of things happen: they perform a show at Clara’s house, a wealthy little girl who lives in a house of Mourning (her four siblings died of cholera), and then she goes missing. Then, Grisini and the children decide to stand up to their wicked master, and an injured Grisini goes missing as well.

So far, so good right?

Actually, the thing that held this novel together (for me at least) was Schlitz’s writing. It’s incredibly descriptive (a random sentence: “A whiff of strong perfume rose to her nostrils: sweet musk roses and another, more metallic smell, reminiscent of something or someone she disliked.”) and flowing. It starts with the witch, and you wonder where the book is going to go, especially after you meet the orphans, but somehow Schlitz makes it all work together seamlessly. There isn’t a wasted page, and even though the action slows way down in the middle, while the orphans are trying to figure things out, it was enough to hold my interest.

Which gets to my real problem with this book: it’s one of those ones that Adults think Kids should like. As I have yet to find a way to describe it in any way that my girls (at least) would even be remotely interested in. The cover kind of spooks them (“Why is there two puppets being controlled by a giant hand?”) and when I try to describe the complex and intricate story, they lose patience about halfway through.

It’s a good story, just not one that I think kids are going to flock to. (Please, tell me if I’m wrong, and how to describe it so that I can get kids interested in it, because I’m really at a loss!)

(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.) 

Brave New World

by Aldous Huxley
ages: adult
First sentence: “A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories.”
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I’ve known for years that I ought to read Brave New World, that it’s a Classic, and one of those books that are the Foundations of Science Fiction. M has read it twice, though Hubby has yet to read it all the way through (shocking!). Thankfully, the Nook voted to read this one this past month, and I was able to take time away from my Cybils duties to squeeze in a bit of Huxley.

And my mind was boggled.

First off because this story was published in 1932. People! Aside from a some archaic treatment of Native Americans (a bit on the glorification side, and he called them Savages), it was mind-blowingly modern. His core ideas: that through science we would develop classes of humans, and brain wash them to be happy/content in their situation in life; that we would, through public policy, get rid of individualism and thereby ridding the world of wars and disagreements; that we, through tradition and education, would get rid of families and home, are all still issues that, for better or worse, are discussed today.

I’m not sure, in the end, whether or not I “got” it. Sometimes the structure was overly jumpy, and it left my scratching my head, wondering what on earth was going on. (*cough*chapterthree*cough*) But, it was fascinating to discuss, debating the merits of contentment with the merits of art and conflict. (I’m in the We Like Things Messy and Individual Camp.)

In fact, my favorite passage comes when John Savage (the guy who grew up outside of the Society) talks to Mustapha Mond (the World Controller):

“Isn’t there something in living dangerously?”
“There is a great deal in it,” the Controller replied. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”
“What?” questioned the Savage, uncomprehending.
“It’s one of the conditions of perfect health. That’s why we’ve made the V. P. S. treatments compulsory.”
“V. P. S.?”
“Violent passion Surrogate. Regularly once a moth. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any inconveniences.”
“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”
“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

And there you have it, in a nutshell. Brilliant.