by Dee Garretson
ages: 10+
First sentence: “The roar came from deep in the earth, growing louder as it raced toward the surface.”
Support your independent bookstore: buy it there!
Review copy sent to me by the publisher.

Luke Brockett is the president’s son. It’s not too bad; he doesn’t get to see his dad much, but he has really cool Secret Service agents hanging around. Not to mention a pretty cool best friend, Theo, who loves to work on robots as much as Luke does. They’re up at Camp David, enjoying some quiet time, when an earthquake along the New Madrid fault wreaks havoc in much of Missouri.

They feel aftershocks in Maryland as well, and it’s those aftershocks (as well as some terrible coincidences) that start a wildfire in the forest surrounding Camp David. Soon, the situation is dire, and by another string of terrible coincidences, Luke, Theo and the daughter of one of the chefs, Callie, are stranded on their own, with the fire closing in, and their lives depend on figuring out how to get out of Camp David.

This book read like an action movie: fast paced, maybe a little bit predictable, and incredibly tense. There wasn’t much character development, though there was a bit for Luke; mostly it was the characters jumping through one hoop after another to solve the big problem of how to get to safety. Don’t get me wrong: it was both a gripping concept and fascinating to watch the three kids problem solve. I’m not sure how plausible it all is, but I’m also not sure it really mattered. Implausable? So what? It’s intense, it’s fun, it’s a page-turner.

Perfect for when you need something exciting.

(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 Kathryn Erskine
ages: 10+
First sentence: “It looks like a one-winged bird crouching in the corner of our living room.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Caitlin is Working On Getting It. It’s a daily process for her, since she has Asperger’s syndrome, and certain things — like figuring out how others are feeling, or reading facial expressions — don’t come easily to her. It used to be that her older brother, Devon, would explain things for her and help her cope with the strange and the difficult. But now, because of a horrible tragedy at his middle school, Devon is no longer around. Caitlin’s father is a basket case, and the only person left to help Caitlin figure out everything — though what she’s looking for, mostly, is Closure — is the counselor at school, Mrs. Brook.

I’m not especially well read in books about the autism spectrum, but I have read a few, and Erskine captured the experience of a high functioning autistic child extremely well. Caitlin’s voice was the strongest thing about the book; in both her inner dialogue and experiences, as well as the way she related to other people, her personality and her challenges came through loud and clear. Erskine’s use of capitals and all caps particularly jumped out at me. Instead of being distracting, it added to Caitlin’s character.

If it were just that, I would have loved the book with absolutely no qualms. However — and kudos to Erskine for being up front about this — this is a book with a Message. Mind you, I don’t disagree with the message: I anti-violence, and I am all for understanding one another. That said, books that are so message heavy, whatever the message, don’t sit well with me. I was never able to get past the message hammer on my head: killing. people. ruins. lives. it’s. hard. to. cope. after. a. loved. one. dies. understanding. others. helps. Yes, we know, thank you very much. I understand the need for conflict; and even understand the need to talk about violent tragedies. But I felt like the message came first in this case, and the story was only a vehicle to getting that message across. I think the book would have sat better with me if those two things were reversed.

Aside from the message hammer, it was a good read. There’s a lot to think about, and I do hope that kids actually get around to picking this one up (and it’s not just one that adults read and love and give awards to, but kids never crack open). Even if it’s only to experience Caitlin as a character.

(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 Nancy Springer
ages: 11+
First sentence: “Mister Sherlock, I’m that glad to see you, I am, and that obliged.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

I have heard of Enola for a while. I know Kerry at ShelfElf loves her, and has sung her praises often. I have meant to get to Enola before, even checked out previous books in the series once or twice, but I’ve never actually read any.

For the record: starting with the last book in the series is not suggested. That said, I adored Enola. The much younger sister of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, she’s as talented and brilliant in her deductive reasoning as they are. She’s 14 (nearly 15) years old, in hiding in London (from her brothers, especially Mycroft, who want to send her to a girls boarding school) since her mother disappeared a year ago. She finds missing persons, she’s brilliant at disguises, and she’s a winning character.

In this book, she takes on the case of the missing Lady Blanchefleur, who has suddenly disappeared. It turns out, however, that Sherlock is also working on this case, and after however long she’s been avoiding them, they actually confront each other. As a subplot, there’s a mysterious message from their mother, which Enola has to decipher. There’s adventure and suspense, humor and mystery , and a fitting ending for what I assume was a good series.

Now to go back and read the rest of them in the right order.

(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 Clare Vanderpool
ages: 11+
First sentence: “The movement of the train rocked me like a lullaby.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

First off: I’ve got a local author! YAY! I really had no idea (honestly, I get the book notes from our local independent bookstore, but I’m not always the best about reading it thoroughly, so I missed it when they announced her) when I started the book, but it’s set in Southeast Kansas, so I flipped to the author blurb to see what credentials this author had for writing about Kansas. I was quite pleasantly surprised to find out that she’s here in Wichita. Pleasantly surprised is too mild. I was quite excited!

I do have to admit that I was a bit anxious as well: what if I didn’t like the book?

I shouldn’t have worried.

Alternating between two time periods, the Great Depression in 1936 and World War I in 1918, Vanderpool tells the story of the small fictional town of Manifest in southeastern Kansas. Nominally, it’s the story of 12-year-old Abilene Tucker who has spent her life traveling the rails with her father, Gideon. Then, soon after her 12th birthday, he up and sends her back to Manifest, a town he’s never talked about but has some connection with, to live with an old friend of his so he can go work in Nebraska. Feeling abandoned, Abilene decides what she needs to do is figure out what connection her dad has with this town, and why he’s sent her there. She ends up working for an old Hungarian fortune teller, and in return she tells Abilene stories, slowly unveiling the mystery of her father’s past. And, by digging up the past, Abilene manages to pull a town that was slowly falling apart back together.

It’s an excellent portrait of a time and a place, making Kansas come alive rather than just being an Everyplace like it usually is in novels. (We need someplace non committal. How about Kansas? ) I could tell that Vanderpool knows her stuff (well, she is a native Kansan; she says that this was based on memories of her grandparents), and loves the place and its small, rural towns. Additionally, she’s created some winning characters; Abilene is a smart, fiesty girl, one with a nose for adventure. But it’s not solely a “girl” book: the two main characters from 1918, Jinx and Ned, are just as engaging as the girls from 1936. Vanderpool manages to balance the two time periods, capturing the essence of each, and transitions seamlessly between them.

It’s a captivating read. I’m really looking forward to Vanderpool’s next work. And not just because she’s a local author.

(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.)