Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Once you know an author you love has died, each book of his/hers that you read becomes one less book to be read by that author–ever.  (Which is just sad.)  I finished Richard Peck’s The Mouse with the Question Mark Tail night before last, and that began that mental countdown for me, and–ugh.  Why can’t certain authors just live forever?  And yes, there are amazing new authors out there, but still.

The Mouse with the Question Mark Tail is the tale of a mouse who doesn’t know his name–they call him Mouse Minor at school, and his “aunt” who is raising him (he thinks it unlikely that they’re actually related) keeps telling him “Nameless is blameless” when he asks–or anything about his parentage; he decides to approach and ask Queen Victoria, whose diamond jubilee is days away.  Peck succeeds in imbuing the story with a British tone, although not the kind of British feel you get with a British author; if Wilkie Collins and Arthur Conan Doyle had co-written The Tale of Despereaux with Kate DiCamillo, you might get Question Mark Tail‘s close cousin.  It’s amusing–funny seems too in-your-face a word for the sort of humor going on here–and fast moving, with more than one running joke that I particularly enjoyed.  My library lists it as a sequel to Secrets at Sea, which I don’t remember enough about to comment on; it’s not at all in the same vein as any of his Grandma Dowdel books, OR his ghost stories, but Richard Peck’s ability to write in several completely different styles is one of the impressive things about him.  If you like adventure tales (about animals!) that take place across the pond, this one’s for you.

My oldest is excitedly participating in her school’s ‘Battle of the Books’ this year–you read as many as you can off of a specific list of books, and then are part of a team that answers trivia questions about them all–and many of the books on the list are also Beehive nominees (the Beehive Book Award being Utah’s children’s choice award for literature).  One of the ones she had me check out of the library for her was 5 Worlds Book 1:  The Sand Warrior, by a whole slew of authors (seriously!).  Since it’s a graphic novel, my 4th grader wanted to read it as well; I went ahead and read it, too, and now I must review it so that I can put the next one on hold so that they can get their grasping little hands on it.

Essentially, it’s a fantasy graphic novel with familiar themes–separated siblings, the protagonist who doesn’t feel she can measure up, class misunderstandings, and differing theories about how to fix the serious problems the fantasy universe is experiencing–but a rather original setting.  (At least, I thought so, but to be fair, I don’t read a ton of fantasy!)  There are sand dancers with sand aniforms that they’re supposed to control, ancient beacons that some people think need to be lit to save the worlds and others would die to prevent their lighting, and an interesting trio of friends.  My girls were more into it than I was, but that’s purely because it’s less my thing; my only real issue was that I found it a bit difficult to keep track of all of the different peoples and worlds (I’m assuming that will get easier in subsequent books?).  Graphic novel fantasy/adventure fans, this is for you!

You know what stinks?  Googling an author to see if he/she has a new book out that you haven’t read and catching “was” in the description of the author.  As in, “Richard Peck was an American novelist known for his prolific contributions to modern young adult literature.”  He apparently died in May–how did I miss that?!–and it’s going to take me some time to process the fact that there will be no more new books from the mind that gave us A Long Way From Chicago and A Year Down Yonder.  If you haven’t read anything by him–in which case I’m torn between pity for your colorless life up until now and envy that you have all of his books still to discover–I’d start with those two.

Excuse me while I grieve–and possibly reread–in peace.

Alrighty, folks.  It’s going to be a big, busy day and a week full of family.  I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving, and I’ll be back on Sunday!

I landed a promotional copy of Jennifer Donnelly’s A Northern Light when I was working at Borders (may it rest in peace); thanks to digital audio books, I finally got around to ‘reading’ it.  (It’s not that it didn’t look interesting–it’s just that so very many books look interesting.  All the time.)  Listening is a form of reading, of course, since you do experience the book, but I have to specify because the narrator deserves her very own shout-out.  She did an excellent southern accent, French-Canadian accent, and Irish brogue, which is a couple of good accents more than many narrators can do.  If you can listen to this one, you should totally do it.  (Although it may have made some of the flashback points a bit harder to track.)  But I digress…

Okay, possibly I digress because I’m finding it hard to review this book.  It was full of a lot of hard things, although none of them were necessarily unrealistic; the ending was the least believable part of the book for me, and yet I’m not sure what I would have done differently that would have made it a workable story; and most of the people in it were complicated, with likable and unlikable traits tangled up together.  (That last, of course, is life, but it made for an emotionally complicated story to read, and far fewer truly likable characters.)  The real-life murder that forms part of the plot was one of the draws for me, and Donnelly did an excellent job with it, as far as Wikipedia and I could tell.  Ultimately, Mattie’s story stuck with me, wandering in and out of my mind, far more than many novels do, which is a recommendation in and of itself; I may not have always liked the characters, OR what some of them were doing, but I couldn’t leave them alone until Donnelly was done with them.  Mattie, her sisters, her pa, her friends, and the Glenmore itself are lingering a bit still, to be honest with you.  If you’re looking for YA historical fiction/coming of age with a bit of grittiness–some language, mostly milder, a great deal of the hardness of life, and a bit of teenager fooling around, so to speak–this one fits the bill nicely.  Let me know what you think!

As of yesterday, I have a 12-year-old.  As of this morning, she has pierced ears.

She is beautiful, and intelligent, and curious, and amazing…and I AM TERRIFIED.

My oldest read the first two “Nameless City” books a year or two ago; she was extremely disappointed to find that the third book hadn’t been written yet.  The Nameless City:  The Divided Earth came out in September, however, and so her wait is finally over.  Wahoo!

Incidentally, I also enjoyed the end of the trilogy.  While the middle installment surprised me with its leap into violence, this conclusion ended with a surprising, satisfying, and (relatively) non-violent solution.  There is fighting, yes, but the ending is more of a foray into a new, ideal sort of peace–an idea that young readers in this day and age could use more of in their lives.  I wish I’d remembered the characters slightly better–I read the first two at basically the same time my oldest did–but it wasn’t a make-or-break problem.  If you haven’t encountered The Nameless City* trilogy yet, you’re missing out.  This is middle grade graphic novel thoughtful action at its best; it’s pretty hard not to like it!

*FYI–It’s definitely the kind of trilogy you read in order.

Happy belated birthday to my favorite sister!  I’m only a day late, so that’s something, right?  And since her birthday is on November 12th–the same day as the twins in the original version of “The Parent Trap”!–here are twelve things I love about my sister (in no particular order):

1.  Her food.  Because food.
2.  Her love for my children.  She revels in being an indulgent auntie.
3.  Being on her team while playing Taboo.  We are UNBEATABLE.
4.  Her energy.  She does more than I do, and I wish I were more like her.
5.  Shared memories.  Oh, the Easter Bunny cake!
6.  Shared book knowledge.  Because she remembers who called his mother ‘Mummy Dearwums’ when I’m having a mental blank.
7.  Shared family knowledge.  Because this is of ongoing importance.
8.  A fierce, shared love for Rhode Island.
9.  Her piano/organ skills.  Because she’s worked for it.
10.  Her sense of humor.  Because sometimes it’s eerily like mine.
11.  Her commitment to her kids.  Her parenting has shaped mine.
12.  Her.  Because she’s my sister–and she’s stuck with me!

The Armistice that ended the Great War was signed 100 years ago today.

Veterans–of all conflicts–I honor you.

When my friend Britt picked Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone for our book club in September, I knew that it was a mystery, that it was Victorian (or thereabouts)–and that’s pretty much it.  (I had NO IDEA how long it was.)  She discovered it on audio–not through Libby–and listened to it herself; because technology is not so much my friend (but she is!), she searched around until she figured out how to put RBDigital on my phone, whereupon I made the most of the opportunity and listened to it as well.  (As if you couldn’t tell that I’d been listening to Victorian literature from THAT sentence.)  And wow.

Seriously, folks.  It was funny!  Funny as in, say, Jane Austen, only with mysterious lurking Indians (of the Eastern variety) instead of snobby sisters.  Funnier, really.  I’m desperately glad that I listened to it, both because I wouldn’t have got around to the hard copy any time soon AND because the narrators were incredible.  The mystery of the diamond got a bit far-fetched in a few spots, but it was the late 1800s–I wasn’t worried about it.  Mostly, I just smiled and chuckled and shook my head in amazement at how much I was enjoying myself in the listening.  Do yourself a favor–find the audiobook and experience it for yourself!