Sisters Grimm: The Unusual Suspects

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So, when C and I last left the Sister Grimm, they had finally found a home with their Granny Relda and managed to defeat both Jack and the giants. What’s next for our heroic sisters? Nothing other than…. school.

Sabrina, at least, would rather spend her days (and nights) reading the “reference” books at Granny’s house trying to find magical tools to help her find and rescue her mom and dad. Unfortunately, the state steps in, and off Daphne and Sabrina go. Daphne has it easy — Snow White is her teacher — but Sabrina’s lot is another story. Especially when her teacher ends up dead at the end of her first day.

So, of course, they have a mystery on their hands. One that will lead them into much danger, nearly tear the family apart, and lead Sabrina closer to finding her parents.

While this one didn’t have the novelty that The Fairy Tale Detectives did, I still enjoyed reading it out loud to C. Sure, there was a lot of extra plot points (did we really need to know how Daphne did her hair?), but C didn’t seem to mind, and they added a bit of whimsy to what could have been an otherwise dark tale. We both really enjoyed Puck; he’s a fun addition to the Grimm family. There weren’t as many voices to “do” (and I couldn’t remember half of the ones I’d done previously; C was always correcting me), but neither of us seemed to mind (though now that I think about it, there were still quite a handful of fairy tale characters; I just didn’t get into doing voices this time through.) The story itself was fairly gripping, leaving us hanging at several points. It even ended on a cliff-hanger, after which C said, “I hate this book. When can we get the next one?” (She doesn’t like cliff-hangers…) It was a fun, well-told tale. I can’t wait to see what happens next…

Totto-Chan: The Little Girl at the Window

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My friend Sarah recommended this one for our in-person book group; we’ve been passing her two copies around since the library doesn’t have one. And it was my turn to have the great pleasure of reading Tetsuko Kuroyangai’s wonderful little memoir.

It’s the most unusual memoir I’ve read recently. It’s in the third person and reads more like a work of fiction than a collection of personal recollections. That, and it’s so simply, so cheerfully written that it’s not just an easy read, but an entertaining one as well.

The story is about Totto-Chan, Kuroyanagi’s childhood name, and her experiences at the Tomoe (to-mo-e) Gakuen school, an alternative elementary school outside of Tokyo designed and run by Sosaku Kobayashi from 1937 to 1945. He believed in a whole education — and this book is as much a portrait of an ideal school as it is a memoir — and letting the child determine his or her place in school. He taught music, believed in exploring nature, used everyday experiences (like lunch) as teaching tool, and created a wholesome environment so that the children attending developed confidence and self-esteem. It was truly remarkable to read about.

I’m sure much could be said about the educational value of the book, and the critique it indirectly gives of modern education. I, however, preferred enjoying it on a simpler level: as a series of sweet reflections of a woman about her idyllic childhood. Either way, it’s a wonderful little book.

The Scarlet Stockings

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I have to admit, I didn’t quite know what to do with this book. It’s an ARC, but it’s too young for Estella’s Revenge. I could have pitched it to the Edge of the Forest, but the email I got sent said it was for my site, so here it is. I usually review books I’ve either bought or checked out on principle (preferring to plug the ARCs I’ve gotten to a wider audience — both ‘zines get much higher reader numbers than I do here). But, since there’s no other place for this review to go, here it will be.

The story, by Charlotte Kandel, is one of a girl with big dreams and a desire to be loved. Daphne is an orphan at St. Jude’s in London when she receives a mysterious package with a pair of silk stockings. It doesn’t take long for Daphne to realize the stockings are magic, but they come with a price: they will help her achieve her dreams, but she must be responsible and choose wisely and pass them up at the height of her fame, or they will lead her to her death.

It’s one part Hans Christian Anderson’s The Red Slippers and one part that story where the girl has magic ballet shoes who help her be good and can’t perform without them until one day when she forgets them and realizes that it’s all her own hard work (can’t remember the name of it right now). It also has an interesting premise behind the story: what would a person do when ambition is confronted with an opportunity too good to resist? An ambitious idea, and one that’s intriguingly set in the world of 1920s ballet.

However, I didn’t especially like this book. My main problem was that I felt like there was too much tell and not enough show. The author’s telling us that people care about Daphne, the author’s telling us that people are upset and angry and hurt, but I’m just not feeling it. It doesn’t help that Daphne — probably on purpose — is the least sympathetic character in the book. I felt bad for all the people who she stepped on — from her adopted parents, to her friends, to her former employers — on her way to stardom. Sure, she’s got ambition, and talent, but what about a heart, or some kindness? She had two emotions: ambition and guilt. Not a pretty picture.

Because the main character was so unsympathetic, I looked to the secondary characters for interest. Some were interesting– like her first boss, Magda, — but most were just stepping stones on the way to Daphne’s eventual success. How could I not feel bad for her adopted parents when she was treating them so horribly? Or her friends that she pledged to be friends forever with? Here they come… there they go. Everyone nice got shuffled off-stage pretty quickly. I didn’t even feel like Ova, the ultimate prima ballerina, got enough stage time to fully develop her whole jealousy of Daphne. (Maybe she didn’t need it. She’s the star, she’s just as self-centered as Daphne, she wants her crowds. Who needs more explanation than that?)

There’s a lot in this story that could have been developed, fleshed out — there’s even a decent moral at the end. I just felt like it was developed enough, or in such a way, for us truly care about Daphne and her experience. Which is too bad.

A Curse Dark as Gold

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I was not planning for this to be my next read, but when it arrived in the mail on Tuesday (courtesy of Renay; THANKS!) I did a happy dance (A and her friend H were looking like they thought I was pretty weird) and immediately began reading it.

It’s basically the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, but more organic, less fairy-tale-ish. Charlotte is the daughter of a miller who dies abruptly. She and her sister, Rosie, are the last of the Miller line, and so it’s up to Charlotte to run the woolen mill, thereby supporting the town. But, there’s a run of bad luck (or is it a curse?) which leads Charlotte and Rosie to enlist the services of one Jack Spinner, who can spin straw into gold (among other things). Unfortunately, life only spins (he he) further out of Charlotte’s control from there.

One part fairy-tale, one part ghost story (and an excellent ghost story), one part historical novel, this book — the first by Elizabeth Bunce — didn’t feel like any other fairy tale book I’ve ever read before. It took me a while — 50 pages or so — to get the rhythm of the book, to understand what Bunce was trying to do with Charlotte (she grated on me at the beginning, but eventually I understood, and liked, her as a character), and to really enjoy what I was reading. But once I got past that point, life got put on hold. It was a very intriguing, engrossing, full tale. I liked the characters, I like the ghost story, I liked the resolution. The only thing that really bugged me was all the names (so many people to keep track of), but that’s such a trivial little thing.

I won’t say it’s worth it’s weight in gold… but it is a really good telling of a fairy tale.

My Life as Furry Red Monster

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This little book, by puppeteer Kevin Clash (with Gary Brozek, in very small print), is one-part memoir, one-part glimpse into the world of Sesame Street and one-part life-affirming-self-help-ish-type book. I liked two-thirds of it.

The memoir part was fascinating. Have you ever wondered how a 45-year-old, tall black guy ends up playing a 3 1/2-year-old furry red monster? I have. Ever since I found out that the same guy played both Hoots the Owl and Elmo (as well as Natasha the baby monster), I’ve wondered about him. How did he get into puppetry? How did he end up being Elmo, of all muppets… This book answers some of those questions. He had a poor, but loving, and nearly idyllic (if you believe everything he writes) childhood. His parents were awesome — how many parents would take their child’s love of puppets and wholeheartedly support it? And his evolution as a puppeteer and a performer is fascinating, too.

I loved the parts about Sesame Street, too. Jim Henson was probably the world’s best boss, and Clash gives you a little insight into that world. I appreciated the logic and the insider dope on some of the global spin-offs, as well as the Sesame Street’s evolution here. (Especially since I stopped watching the show with my kids sometime in 2002. C was the last one who really watched it. A didn’t have much interest in it, and since we don’t have cable now and the local PBS station’s signal is weak, we don’t even get it anymore.) I haven’t always liked what they’ve done with the show, but I understand the reasoning behind it. Clash took us through the whole process from curriculum design through to rehearsals and test audiences. It was pretty interesting, too.

But when he tried to sum the whole thing up into little bits of advice (good advice: love, joy, creativity, tolerance courage, friendship, cooperation, learning, optimism), it just felt forced. I would have rather read a book about Clash’s life, his experiences with being a master puppeteer, and left the whole life affirming stuff off. Even so, it wasn’t too obnoxious and overbearing. And it was worth it to read about his life and work.

Estella Reminiscing

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The March issue of Estella’s Revenge is up (my lone review — February was a slow month — is here)! Andi and Heather have put together another good issue (I love the new look, too!) so stay and browse a while.

I was reminded, that I began writing for Estella (shoot, Estella, in its current incarnation, began) a year ago. It started with a silly little review (as I think about it now, it wasn’t terribly well written) of The Penderwicks. I wasn’t sure if Andi and Heather would even like it, let alone run it; I sent it to them on a whim. I really can’t remember the motivation behind my reaching out. I’d been writing on my blog for two and a half years, content with my readership of 10 people (half of whom were family members). But I saw an announcement somewhere (can’t remember where, now) that this new literary ‘zine was looking for writers, and I thought to myself: “I can do that.” Encouraged by Hubby, I did. And I found I liked it. I like getting ARCs in the mail (as does M — she’s always pilfering through my ARC pile), I like having my name and my writing out there in more (better-read) places. I like interviewing authors. I like having authors read what I write. It’s exciting; a real rush. And it’s something I can do. I won’t say I do it well — I’m not “good” enough to get a job at the local paper, let alone be as respected as, say, Lisa at Bluestalking Reader or Betsey at Fuse #8. I don’t have piles and piles of publisher contacts (time, baby; it’s all about the time. And when you’re home with four girls — two all day! — you don’t have much of that). But I’m having a grand time. And, I’ve come realize, that as long as I’m loving what I “do” then that’s all that matters.

Thanks, Andi and Heather, for accepting and publishing that first piece. It gave me the confidence I needed to realize I could reach out and give “real” book reviewing a try. And the past year has been a grand experience. Here’s to many more.

Graphic Novel Roundup #1

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First, an announcement: The Edge of the Forest is up…. and here are my two little reviews; I had fun doing them. Go take a look at the whole issue…

Second, an explanation: I decided sometime last month –partially because C is SUCH a big fan of Babymouse (thanks, Abby!), and partially because the Cybil graphic novel winners got me curious, and partially because of this post (which I found through a link in the comments of this post) — that I would begin exploring the world of graphic novels. Unlike, Hubby, I didn’t grow up reading comic books. Sure, I read comics — Bloom County and Calvin and Hobbes were two of my favorites — and I still do. But comics in the newspaper just aren’t the same as comic books, at least not the way I see it. I don’t think the reason I avoided them was active dislike on my part, more like disinterest. I really don’t have much interested in superhero stories, even though I’ve gone to pretty much every comic book movie that Hubby’s dragged me to. (The best? The second Spiderman and the second X-Files and the new Batman. That last one’s AWESOME. I’m actually excited about the sequel coming out this summer.) But, something in me clicked this last month, and I actually decided that I can give graphic novels a try.

So. My first three graphic novels…

Babymouse: Our Hero (#2)
I know it’s not the first in the series, by Jennifer and Matthew Holm, but I think you don’t have to read them in order. I picked it up mostly because it was lying around waiting for C to come home, and once I started flipping through, I really had to sit down and read the whole thing. It’s a cute little book, spunky and sassy. And I love the snarky narrator comments interspersed throughout the book. As I mention, C eats these up… the only one we haven’t been able to get a hold of is #5, and she’s not-so-patiently waiting for that one. Maybe we’ll just get it for her for her birthday and save her the wait….

Robot Dreams
This one, by Sara Varon, had to be the family’s favorite. M and I read it together one evening, and just fell in love. I’m not an artist, so I don’t really know the difference in artistic styles (is it okay to call these drawings “cartoon like”?). We liked the simple story of the dog and the robot, and how the poor robot ends up stranded on the beach. Dog attempts to find another friend, while robot dreams of getting up off the sand. We talked about it so much, that Hubby read it, and then we passed it along to C. Poignant, yet accessible to the youngest reader (there are no words, and A sat and “read” it last night. She got the story pretty well, and enjoyed looking at all the pictures). A wonderful little book.

The Arrival
This one is harder to define and to describe. I was entranced by it — the artwork by Shaun Tan is absolutely beautiful — yet I didn’t know if I was “getting” it. It’s the story of a man who immigrates from his country to a new one. It’s a fantastical (I know that’s not a word, really, but I couldn’t come up with another one) world — one that’s strange and wondrous all at the same time. I got the feeling that Tan was using the fantasy element to portray some of the confusion and strangeness that immigrants experience when going to a new country, and I enjoyed and appreciated that. However… there were times — mostly when the people the man met were telling their immigration stories — when I was confused, wondering if maybe I was trying too hard to get the book, and it hindered my enjoyment of it. It got me wondering what the difference between a graphic novel and a picture book was. One of my favorite winter books is The Snowman by Raymond Briggs — how come that’s a picture book and not a graphic novel? What ‘s the difference here? Are graphic novels just grown up picture books? It was because I wasn’t able to fully grasp this one that I felt like I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did the other two. Though, I have to admit, it will be the one that I would probably look through again and again, just so I could look at the artwork. So, maybe it really is the best of the lot.

Stay tuned for the next episode…

The Book Thief

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Things I can say about Markus Zusak’s best-seller: I admire it. I thought it was brilliantly written. I thought Death as a narrator was an intriguing premise. I thought it was interesting that the story was set in Nazi Germany, but was about ordinary Germans just surviving. And yes, I cried at the end.

Things I can’t say about The Book Thief: that I like it. (Oh, and that I can spell thief the first time, without a spell-checker. Just can’t do it.)

This bothered me. I read the book — all 550 pages — and two-thirds of the way through I was still unsure what I thought of it. I didn’t hate it; I had no desire to stop reading. I did want to “find out” — though I already knew — what happened to Liesel and Rudy and Max and Hans. I don’t consider it time wasted, or time lost. So I didn’t hate it, or even really dislike it. About 100 or so pages before the end I finally decided that this book would have to be a toss: I was going to admire a book, to recognize it’s literary worth, and yet not like it.

I think my fundamental problem with this story is that it’s not really a cuddly or accessible one. Not that stories set in Nazi Germany can ever be cuddly. And a story about a pre-adolescent girl during this time isn’t necessarily accessible or enjoyable. It is an interesting, and possibly important story — but like “Schindler’s List” or “The Pianist” or Elie Wiesel’s books — it’s not one you want to cuddle up with, to read and reread. The final moral is something along the lines of: words can do good as well as harm, some people are good even in a bad situation, and some people survive. That’s life. In the end, I feel like this is an English class book; one to be respected and studied and analyzed and possibly imitated.

Just not really liked, at least by me. I’m okay with that.

February Jacket Flap-a-Thon

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Happy Leap Day! Are you doing anything exciting today? (Hubby and I are off to Oklahoma City later today — sans kids — for the afternoon and evening. Unfortunately, it won’t be as romantic as it sounds. But it will be nice to do something on our own, even if it’s not wildly romantic. The five hours in the car — 2 1/2 there and back again — without the kids is worth it. M asked me what my “ideal date” was last night. My reply: it doesn’t matter, as long as there’s free babysitting. Ah, such is life. Enough off-topic-ness.)

Anyway…. there was actually a very good bunch of books this month; it was hard to decide. But, forced by my own rules, I managed to narrow the list down to five. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. 🙂

5. Kira-Kira (athaneum books for young readers): “Glittering. That’s how Katie Takeshima’s sister, Lynn, makes everything seem. The sky is kira-kira because its color is deep but see-through at the same time. The sea is kira-kira for the same reason. And so are people’s eyes. When Katie and her family move from a Japanese community in Iowa to the Deep South of Georgia, it’s Lynn who explains to her why people stop them on the street to stare. And it’s Lynn who, with her special way of viewing the world, teaches Katie to look beyond tomorrow. But when Lynn becomes desperately ill, and the whole family begins to fall apart, it is up to Katie to find a way to remind them all that there is always something glittering — kira-kira — in the future. Luminous in its persistence of love and hope, Kira-Kira is Cynthia Kadohata’s stunning debut in middle-grade fiction.”


I thought this one reflected the tone of the book quite nicely. It was a hard book to write a blurb for, because there wasn’t much “action”, being a series of childhood reflections. But this did a good job of capturing the essence of the book.

4. Dragon Slippers (Bloomsbury): “Many stories tell of damsels in distress who are rescued from the clutches of fire-breathing dragons by knights in shining armor and swept off to live happily ever after. Unfortunately, this is not one of those stories. True, when Creel’s aunt suggests sacrificing her to the local dragon, it is with the hope that a knight will marry Creel and that everyone (aunt and family included) will benefit handsomely. Yet it’s Creel who talks her way out of the dragon’s clutches. And it’s Creel who walks for days on end to seek her fortune in the king’s city with only a bit of embroidery thread and a strange pair of slippers in her possession. But even Creel could not have guessed the outcome of this tale. For in a country on the verge of war, Creel unknowingly possesses not just any pair of shoes, but a tool that could be used to save her kingdom… or destroy it.”

It’s cute and spunky. Just like the book.

3. Northanger Abbey (Everyman’s Library): “Northanger Abbey is a perfectly aimed literary parody that is also a withering satire of the commercial aspects of marriage among the English gentry at the turn of the nineteenth century. But most of all, it is the story of the initiation into life of its naive but sweetly appealing heroine, Catherine Morland, a willing victim of the contemporary craze for Gothic literature who is determined to see herself as the heroine of a dark and thrilling romance. When she is invited to Northanger Abbey, the grand though forbidding ancestral seat of her suitor, Henry Tilney, she finds herself embroiled in a real drama of misapprehension, mistreatment, and mortification, until common sense and humor — and a crucial clarification of Catherine’s financial status — resolve her problems and win her the approval of Henry’s formidable father. Written in 1798 but not published until after Austen’s death in 1817, Northanger Abbey is characteristically clearheaded and strong, and infinitely subtle in its comedy.”


I have discovered that writing blurbs for classics is actually a very tricky business. Saying something interesting about a book that’s really well known (or a lesser-known book by a well-known author) is not as easy as it sounds. This one did well.

2. Song of the Sparrow (Scholastic Press): “Since the days of King Arthur, there have been paintings and poems created in her name. She is Elaine of Ascolat — the Lady of Shalott. And now, there is a new story, a new vision, of this mysterious and captivating girl…. Beautiful sixteen-year-old Elaine has a temperament as firey as her long red hair. The daughter of a solder in young Arthur’s army, Elaine is the sole girl in the militaristic world of men. Often slipping into daydreams, she wishes that the handsome Lancelot would see hear as more than a tomboy. Then a new girl arrives, and Elaine is thrilled — until Gwynivere proves to be cold and cruel. But when Elaine and Gwynivere are thrown into a situation of gravest danger, the girls must band together in order to survive. Can Elaine find the strength to fight for the kingdom she has always believed in? Acclaimed author Lisa Ann Sandell brings a haunting lyricism and an epic sweep to this tale of love, betrayal, and war. Heartbreaking, eloquent and gripping, this novel is a striking addition to the canon of Camelot mythology.

A beautiful blurb for a beautiful book. Reflects the tone, gets the gist of the story and make me (at least) want to read it (again).

1. The Year of Living Biblically (Simon & Schuster): “Raised in a secular family but increasingly interested in the relevance of faith in our modern world, A.J. Jacobs decides to dive in headfirst and attempt to obey the Bible as literally as possible for one full year. He vows to follow the Ten Commandments. To be fruitful and multiply. To love his neighbor. But also to obey the hundreds of less publicized rules: to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers; to play a ten-string harp; to stone adulterers. The resulting spiritual journey is at once funny and profound, reverent and irreverent, personal and universal and will make you see history’s most influential book with new eyes. Jacobs’s quest transforms his life even more radically than the year spent reading the entire Encyclopedia Britannica for The Know-It-All. His beard grows so unruly that he is regularly mistaken for a member of ZZ Top. He immerses himself in prayer, tends sheep in the Israeli desert, battles idolatry, and tells the absolute truth in all situations – much to his wife’s chagrin. Throughout the book, Jacobs also embeds himself in a cross-section of communities that take the Bible literally. He tours a Kentucky-based creationist museum and sings hymns with Pennsylvania Amish. He dances with Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn and does Scripture study with Jehovah’s Witnesses. He discovers ancient biblical wisdom of startling relevance. And he wrestles with seemingly archaic rules that baffle the twenty-first-century brain. Jacobs’s extraordinary undertaking yields unexpected epiphanies and challenges. A book that will charm readers both secular and religious, The Year of Living Biblically is part Cliff Notes to the Bible, part memoir, and part look into worlds unimaginable. Thou shalt not be able to put it down.”

Yeah, it’s long. But it’s funny; the last line cracks me up every time I read it. And it’s compelling: it makes me, at least want to read the book.

The Worst One:
If Mama Don’t Laugh, it Ain’t Funny (Palm Tree): “From hunting down AWOL hermit crabs, to euthanizing pet watermelons, to sharing a meal of prescription strength crow, you’ll tag along on absurd adventures, observe awkward family rituals, squirm under uncomfortable questions, and explore the perpetual mysteries of children. If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny will make you laugh until stuff comes out of your nose. Pass a tissue to your mama ’cause she’ll be laughing too.”

The back blurb wasn’t nearly as horrific as the cover, but it is presty lame. Full of quotes from people I didn’t know, this little blurb was nearly buried. It tries to be clever… and doesn’t quite make it. Which is too bad, because the book’s actually pretty good.

First Kiss (Then Tell)

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I picked this one up (More accurately, I thought about picking it up and when I went to the local indie store to get a book for a friend — which I had to special order — I impulsively asked them to special order this one too, just because, and then I had to drive back across town to get them, but I’m not complaining, really, it’s just that this was a really long explanation and “picked this one up” was much more succinct.) in my post-Saffron Kitchen funk. I figured that a bunch of funny, interesting, cute essays about first kisses would be just the think to catapult me out of said funk. Well, as it turned out, I managed to crawl out of my hole before the book came in, but I enjoyed reading it anyway.

A collection of first kiss stories (mostly true) from YA authors (and Jon Scieszka, is he really a YA author? I’ve only known him as a picture book guy…) it’s a fun little book. As with all collections, there’s a little bit in there for everyone (which makes it uneven, but that’s not really a problem): graphic art essays (comic strips?), poetry, a play, a haiku and the Hale’s (probably quickly becoming famous; it’s the one everyone I’ve read has pointed out) she-said, he-said. There were several that I really liked: Shannon and Dean Hale’s version (especially Dean’s version; he’s a very funny writer) of their first kiss; Jon Scieszka capturing 7th grade boys perfectly; Amy Kim Ganter’s comic about her third first kiss with who was eventually her husband (it was very sweet); Cecil Castellucci’s reflections of her afternoons with the “bad boy” in school (until her friend found out…). Hands down favorite for sheer grossness (it was so gross it was funny!) was Justine Larbalestier’s “Pashin'”, a tale of her friend’s first kiss. I’ll make you read it for yourself.

I liked how it mostly captured the anxiety and awkwardness of a first kiss. They’re not always swelling music and foot pops and love-at-first-sight. I liked the honesty about it — from Nikki Grimes’ “Breathless”: “His hot tongue startled me, torching its way in where it wasn’t needed. (Didn’t I already have a tongue of my own?”) — it was nice to read about kisses that weren’t overly sentimental. It got me to thinking about some of my first kisses (won’t bore you…), and Hubby (who picked it up and read some of them, too) reminisced about ours.

So, even though I didn’t need to to pop out of my funk, I’m glad I read it. It made me smile. And everyone can use a smile. And a kiss.