Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I never officially announced that I’d be taking Thanksgiving off, but really–was anyone surprised? There were pies to make (and eat–so many pies!), other food to prepare (yes, and eat), games to play, and driving to do. (That last was not so fun today–I left Davis County with my girls after the snow started. My hubby and son got home last night, but I stayed for the sake of a cousin sleepover.) I’m back now, however, and while you’re not getting a pie review, you are getting something almost as good–I finished Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus a few days ago, and if I review it tonight, it can go to whichever of my girls claims it first tomorrow.

Interestingly, my 10-year-old says that one of her school librarians told her this one wasn’t as good as its predecessor; I, however, possibly enjoyed it just as much as the first one. True, high school brings a lot of changes for Aven and her friends, and there are bullying and crushing and decision-making in spades. On the other hand, there are also friendship and outreaching and healing, not to mention the kind of humor that makes Dusti Bowling’s Aven stories so lovable. I loved both books, especially because I was left in such a positive frame of mind by the end. People are picky about sequels, though–if you’ve read it, what do you think?

My 10-year-old has been hassling me about Sunny Rolls the Dice for weeks–“Are you done with Sunny yet? Are you almost done with that? When are you going to be DONE?” I’ve been working on other books, but last night I went ahead and finished it in the interest of self-preservation. Afterward, while I was trying to get comfy and fall asleep, I thought about how I was going to review it. So here’s the thing:

On the one hand, this sends all kinds of good messages to kids, because it’s about two friends whose interests diverge as they reach 7th grade; it’s handled realistically well. Sunny’s interests are less mainstream, and that’s handled realistically well, also. Good messages, well handled, fairly engaging art. A win, right?

On the other hand, this is one of those books where the setting–in this case, the time period–is another main character in its own right. This can be an incredible device, but here, well…I felt like as a character, the 1970s have a lot of personality but don’t actually do much in the story. The themes here are timeless; it’s the accessories that differ, and those accessories seem relatively trifling as a plot point. I honestly wonder if it’s mostly a nostalgia thing for the Holm siblings.

Ultimately, however, I’m not the intended audience, and I don’t think IT is going to mind–I’m certainly expecting my 10-year-old to love it! If you read it, let me know what you think.

I received an ARE of Granted, by John David Anderson, longer ago than I’d like to admit; I finished it last weekend, however, and so it’s your review for the day. (One of these days I’m going to get to the recipes that need reviewing–I really am. But today is not that day.)

I admit, it took me a while to get into this one. And honestly, I think listening to it didn’t help; the beginning involves a decent amount of setting the stage and telling rather than showing, and it appears that I do better with that sort of thing visually. (It’s sometimes harder to appreciate well-written as a quality when you’re listening to something rather than reading it.) I also tend to prefer my fantasy to be more old-fashioned than not, which meant that this tale of a modern fairy from a modern fairy community (there are lattes) is less my thing. Once the fairy–Ophelia Delphinium Fidgets by name–entered the human world on her wish-granting mission, I warmed up to her a little, but it was Sam the dog that got me.

I LOVED Sam.

Sam isn’t just lovable in and of himself, though; he slowly renders Ophelia more lovable as well. And as she pursues her (elusive) assigned wish through Kettering, Ohio, she is slowly drawn into the human world around her. What happens next clinched it for me–I did really enjoy it after all. And if you don’t mind a more modern take on fantasy, you’ll have no qualms about enjoying it as well.

It might even change the way you wish.

It’s taken me far longer than I’m going to admit to get to Secrets Out! (The Top-Secret Diary of Celie Valentine). I gave its predecessor to my second girlie for Christmas two years ago, I believe; for a long time I didn’t realize that she’d read it, but once I found that out and she found out that it was part of a trilogy, I put Secrets Out! on hold at the library and then–procrastinated.

Or, alternatively, chose other things to read.

I finished Secrets Out! on Wednesday, however, and once I review it tonight I get to pass it along (and get it out of my bedroom!). Unfortunately, I’m tired and feeling somewhat overwhelmed, which means that this review is going to be relatively short (and, possibly, slightly boring). Julie Sternberg’s trilogy (I haven’t read the third one yet, but I know it exists) isn’t just made up of diary entries; it also includes emails, notes passed in school, texts, and illustrations intended to be part of the diary. All of these things together continue the story of Celie, her older sister Jo, her parents, and her growing-ever-more-forgetful-and-confused Granny, as well as Celie’s friend Lula and a few others. It’s a book that successfully marries friend difficulties with painful life events, striking an impressive line between authenticity and story. Celie doesn’t always make the best choices, but you can’t help but love her–and root for her. My 10-year-old is going to blaze through (and thoroughly enjoy) it, but its brevity and illustrations make it accessible for younger or struggling readers as well.

And now I’m done. On to the next thing on my list for the evening…

Last Saturday night I finished the audiobook I was listening to and started thinking about which one was up next; unfortunately, I was waiting on several digital holds from the library and my available choices mostly involved adult fiction from authors I haven’t read before. The problem there is that I’ve been trying harder and harder to limit my Sunday audiobooks to ones that don’t distract from the spirit of the day and my attempts to focus on my Savior, and if I’m not familiar with the author, I don’t know what to expect. I decided to scroll through available audiobooks for a better option, and I eventually came to Heaven is for Real. My thought process went something like this:

Hey, I’m pretty sure my sister enjoyed that and lent me a copy–yup, there it is on my shelf! Sweet! That sounds like a good Sunday option, and once I listen to it I can give her copy back to her, making something else that will no longer be in my house! And HEY, my niece is headed up that way for Thanksgiving, which means that I can just add it to the pile of stuff I already have for her and it will leave SOON! This is a win-win-win! Oh, and WIN, because the Goodreads Library Challenge for November is to read a book recommended to you by a friend or family member–SCORE!

Yeah, there really were that many exclamation points in my head. Sorry.

Seriously, though, it felt not just fortuitous, but downright serendipitous. And it was short–it took me a whopping two days to listen to it. Back to my sister it goes! As for what I thought about it–I enjoyed it, overall. I got teary once or twice, and I took it at face value as a family’s record of an amazing experience, told as accurately as a small child can actually tell it. My one issue was the father’s persistent efforts to prove his son’s story–constant reminders of “he couldn’t have known that” or “I know what he’s taught in Sunday School, and it doesn’t cover that and WE never mentioned it to him.” The father is a pastor, and I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t believe those efforts are going to work the way he wants them to. Maybe they will help convince a few on-the-fencers, but in my experience, people who don’t want to believe are going to find a reason not to believe, while people with an open mind will respond just as well to the story itself, making so many reminders unnecessary (and repetitive).

Still, it was a nice Sunday read. And it can go back to my sister now. AND I commented on the Goodreads thread for November. Win-win-win!

There’s a reason Robert McCloskey’s Homer Price is still in print, despite debuting in 1947. Some books grow dated, while others simply become ‘vintage’, so to speak; Homer is the latter. I started listening to this myself, but I stopped before I was halfway through and started over, reading it aloud to my children instead.

They got a serious kick out of it.

There’s something timeless about Homer’s adventures here–the superhero who’s quite normal in real life, the competitive balls of string, even the never-ending doughnuts (which reminded more than one of us of the “Curious George” episode where he gets his zeros wrong and then tries to hide all the extra doughnuts around his apartment before the Man with the Yellow Hat comes home). McCloskey’s quiet but unmistakable humor was still completely accessible to my children–so much so that they took the (intentionally) ridiculous song from the last story, made up a tune for it, and serenaded my hubby when he got home, watching for him from the windows and bursting into song the minute he walked through the door. (He was entertainingly baffled. It’s not a song that makes any kind of sense out of context.) If you’re looking for a great read-aloud for (at the very least!) 2nd through 7th grade, this is your book; as a bonus, it should appeal equally to boys and girls.

Of all ages.

I love Maine, folks. I mean, I really love Maine. The rocky coast, the miles of forest, the wind and the water and the mist–I love it all. And not only does Cynthia Lord’s Touch Blue take place in Maine–on an island, no less!–it’s also by a Newbery author AND features a foster sibling (I had one of those!). It was a foregone conclusion for it to end up on my to-read shelf; the only surprise is that it’s taken me this long to get to it.

Good things come to those who wait, however, and I did really enjoy this one. Tess’s small island school lost 5 students when her friend Amy’s family moved to the mainland, and now the state is saying it’s too small to keep open. The island’s solution is for certain families to take in foster children, and Tess’s family is excited to welcome Aaron, a 13-year-old who isn’t nearly as excited to meet his third foster family in three years. Touch Blue walks an interesting line between an improbable positivity (with at least one highly unlikely circumstance) and a gentle awareness of the plight of a foster child; it’s more realistic but less piercing than Pictures of Hollis Woods, with a simplified but still honest view of parents who have lost custody of their children and the children who are forced to deal with the fallout. I kind of wanted the story’s bully to get a bit more of what was coming to him, but overall this was a truly enjoyable read with a hopeful but realistic ending. My emotionally astute 10-year-old just might be getting this for Christmas!

Okay, that sounds cheesy, but seriously–I have my computer back! WITH all my tabs!

On a different note, tonight’s broadcast with Elder Gong, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was a neat way to spend an evening together as a family. (Okay, so the littles lost interest and were diverted with sticker books and small screens, but they were there!) I’m excited for our new children-and-youth program, especially since one more of my children will be old enough come January. AND the Gospel Living app that’s coming around then…I might actually manage to use my phone for my schedule one of these days!

I’m also tired, though, so goodnight, folks! Pleasant dreams!

My computer died, folks. DIED. That’s why you got no post on Wednesday, and that’s why this post is going to be short–I’m stuck on a laptop keyboard (I loathe laptop keyboards) with limited abilities as far as open tabs are concerned. (Those who know me know just how very tragic this is.) On the other hand, I had to post, because I finished a graphic novel that my girls are going to want. Surfside Girls: The Mystery at the Old Rancho is a normal sequel–evolving relationships among the main characters and a new mystery, but more of the same “two girls solve a mystery with the help of ghosts” formula. This is the tween version of a beach read, perhaps; it’s definitely a fluffy graphic novel, but it will interest its target audience. I appreciated the focus on California’s Mexican heritage, and the art is fun. The ghost/human boyfriend/girlfriend dynamics are a little odd, but again–I don’t think the target audience will complain.

That’s that, folks, because LAPTOP KEYBOARD. Goodnight all!

On Veterans Day, formerly Armistice Day, I usually post “In Flanders Fields” as my FB status; in the past I’ve also blogged about it, one way or another.  Today, however, seems like the right day to write a hard review.  I received an ARE of The Girl Who Smiled Beads from Penguin Random House almost two years ago; I finished it last week (because, again, life).  I’ve been hoping that a few extra days of distance would help me organize my thoughts for this post, but–how do you review a memoir like this?  How do you pass judgement on someone’s experiences and how she chooses to recount them?  What, really, am I to say?

I suppose I start by saying that this is the second memoir of a Rwandan genocide survivor that I’ve experienced.  (Read seems such a blah word under the circumstances.)  I was in a book club that picked Left to Tell:  Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust more than a decade ago, and it was painful and powerful and (ultimately) hopeful in a way that affected me deeply.  1994 was middle high school for me, and current events were not so much my thing; Left to Tell was my introduction to an event that my parents almost certainly mentioned but that I was oblivious to.  The Girl Who Smiled Beads, however, is told from an entirely different perspective.  In many ways, Clemantine’s story is as much a refugee’s story as a survivor’s story; she and her older sister were sent to their grandmother’s for safety, and then–one night–their grandmother told them to run.  They escaped Rwanda with a mass of others and spent the next 6 years in refugee camps and cheap apartments, suffering, travelling–and surviving.  Their journey to America was convoluted, and so are their experiences there.

So is life, when that is your childhood.

Ultimately, I view the world differently from Clemantine; how could I not?  Her memoir, however, is exactly what it says it is–A Story of War and What Comes After.  She is scarred in ways that I cannot comprehend, and she understands that scarring, understands that she is a person in emotional turmoil.  I cannot pass judgement on the decisions she has made, the conclusions she has drawn, and the life she now lives, because I cannot imagine what such experiences would do to my own inner self, how they would scar my outer world.  I can say that I was expecting a more straightforward memoir of her experiences during the crisis; instead, I found an introspective journey that felt almost uncomfortably intimate at times.  (I can also say that I hope she finds more and more peace as time goes by.)  Clemantine’s book is an experience that will touch you–and not an experience you can easily forget.