Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I don’t feel terribly guilty for missing on Monday, because the kiddos and I spent two nights in Kanosh with friends for the start of spring break. (We were going to go to Idaho sometime this week, but my brother and sister-in-law and an indeterminate number of their children had Covid.) My older girls were thrilled to spend time with their friends again–sisters who were in their respective classes for years–and my younger kids made friends with the sisters’ siblings whose ages (and genders) best matched their own. (I enjoyed their parents, who are thoroughly lovely people.) Good times all around! We went to their local hot springs–‘hot pots’–and the Kanosh Mercantile, affectionately known as the Merc. There was a fire and smores, games and chatting, and I’m so glad we went!

We were, however, gone on Monday.

Anyway. While there, I managed the last few pages of Take It Away, Tommy!: A Breaking Cat News Adventure, and I’ve decided that the series is getting better with each book. It’s still for cat lovers, of course, and I’m honestly not sure what my kiddos will think of it, but the level of religious profanity has dropped significantly, and the ghost story element in this one makes it a bit more plot-driven than Dunn’s previous installments; I’m willing to give it to them and see. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to the next book (which I think is actually out!) more than I’d expected to. Good times again, right?

Here’s hoping the rest of spring break goes smoothly–for everyone involved!

I won an advance copy of Michelle Gable’s I’ll See You in Paris in November of 2016; I finally finished it this month because hey, I had an 18-month-old back then, and I’m STILL catching up. (This is not news.) And oh, how I wish I’d liked it better! I always appreciate winning an advance copy (and I’m working towards being more timely with my responses), but I also give honest reviews–and so, here you are.

What I liked:
1. The story of the Duchess of Marlborough. Seriously, why hasn’t there been a movie about this woman? And if there has been, why don’t I know about it?
2. The tone of the fictitious book that started Annie’s journey. It was dry and witty and thoroughly entertaining.
3. Most of the British characters, more or less. They were relatively well-drawn.

What I didn’t:
1. Annie. She was a teenager, a college student, drifting, purposeful, rebellious, a mommy’s girl–she was whatever Gable needed her to be to move her plot along. What she WASN’T was a believable recent college graduate with her stated backstory.
2. The military fiance. He felt like a paper character and a plot device, and any talk of his and Annie’s relationship (or him at all) felt completely contrived.
3. The gratuitous language. There did NOT need to be that many F-words, or that much language in general. It, too, felt contrived.
4. Laurel. She didn’t really make any more sense than Annie did.

Conclusion:
If Michelle Gable had turned her research into a nonfiction exploration of the Duchess, I would have enjoyed the book far better. It’s not that the concept didn’t have promise–the trip to England, a mother’s hidden past, a daughter’s fascination with a decades-old mystery–but the execution was underwhelming. It’s obvious from its reviews on Goodreads that not everyone agrees with me, so if you don’t know me well, it’s entirely possible you should read it for yourself. If you do know me well, I would have recommended it to you if I’d thought you’d like it–and I didn’t.

Oh, my goodness, how I loved Tae Keller’s The Science of Breakable Things. (To be honest, I sort of wish that it had won the Newbery Medal instead of When You Trap a Tiger, but it’s possible that’s because I’m less into the latter’s mysticism. I don’t read much fantasy anymore.) Natalie’s struggle with her mother’s depression tugged at my heart, and not–I don’t think–only because I know what it means to love someone who suffers from depression. (I also know what it feels like to suffer directly, but mine was post-partum and relatively short-lived.) There is such love in this book–family love, friend love, and the other-adult kind of love that adds so much to our children’s lives. Despite what the Beatles claim, however, love is often not all we need, and while Natalie has support and a safe environment, the need for open communication about the issue becomes stronger and stronger. (Which is poignantly and all-encompassingly realistic.) In the meantime, she’s desperately hoping to win a local egg-drop competition so that she can use the prize money to take her mother on a trip that Natalie believes will ‘fix’ her. She, her best friend Twig, and their newly-gained friend Dari are all in, seeing their mission through to the very (unexpected) end.

I really, really loved this book.

On the other hand, while I can’t remember if I’ve EVER included a trigger warning before, proceed with caution if you’re floundering in the wake of your or a loved one’s depression. It may be helpful and/or cathartic; it may also hit painfully close to home. Only you can make that call.

Read it, though, if you possibly can.

Although I suppose having houseguests didn’t help my bedtime on Friday, and Sunday night I just couldn’t sleep. I was tired enough, however, and drained enough from the day that I didn’t have a post in me. Luckily, I did manage to get to bed a bit earlier last night!

Anyway. I checked out Lynda Mullaly Hunt’s Shouting at the Rain shortly after finishing Fish in a Tree, since that was so good, and after listening to Shouting at the Rain, it’s official–I’m a Mullaly Hunt fan. (And while the narrator didn’t attempt an accent and New England wasn’t a character in and of itself, Delsie did order jimmies on her ice cream, making the setting feel successful.) Delsie’s friendship experiences should resonate with the intended audience, not to mention her parent/grandparent arrangement. The pain of Ronan’s past balances out the perfection of the ending, and while it might not be completely realistic, it is definitely satisfying. I honestly expected there to be more of a theme of class/financial differences than there was, but Mullaly Hunt clearly preferred to focus instead on friendship and family (both biological and chosen), and that worked. This is a book with characters you want to know and a whole lot of heart.

My 11-year-old should love it.

I’ve had Kakapo Rescue: Saving the World’s Strangest Parrot checked out for quite some time (like I usually do), serving as a Sibert winner representative on my to-read shelf. (Shelves. And technically, it’s the size of a picture book, and so it was in the to-be-read picture book pile.) My second girlie is an animal lover, however, and while we were waiting for Susan Patron’s 3rd “Lucky” book to come in at the library, it occurred to me that we could read about parrots in the meantime.

Big parrots.

Big, nocturnal parrots.

Big, nocturnal, flightless, underground-living parrots who are highly endangered. (Although the world population has more than doubled since the book was written, which isn’t hard when there were less than a hundred of them at the time.)

Anyway. It was both a fascinating and a mind-boggling book, given the factors involved in kakapo parrots becoming so endangered and the breadth (and expense!) of the rescue effort on their behalf. (Also, many of the photographs were so cute!!!, according to my girlie.) Any animal or science lover ought to enjoy this one!

Man, the time change is killing me this year…which is why I missed my last post. By the time I remembered (and had time), it was late enough that I didn’t have it in me to put off going to bed. And while that was a little unfortunate, since I’m now up to three finished books waiting for reviews again, it was still the better choice!

Anyway. This morning–while parked at the school, waiting to pick up my kindergartener–I finished Measuring Up, a fairly new graphic novel by Lily LaMotte and Ann Xu. I can’t remember how it came onto my radar, but I’m glad it did; it’s not always easy to find solidly appropriate graphic novels that aren’t starting to trend a little young for my sixth grader. Not that this will be in any way challenging for her, you understand, but its themes of moving, missing a loved family member, and trying to simultaneously assimilate to a new culture while honoring your cultural identity aren’t little kid themes. (Seeing them come together in a cooking contest, moreover, was especially fun; I watched a LOT of the Food Network when I was nursing/feeding babies.) Cici’s American journey is definitely not as difficult as some I’ve read about, but moving to a new country is never easy. This is a fun and thought-provoking addition to any middle grade graphic novel collection!

Also, I’m sorry to end two paragraphs in a row with exclamation points. For some reasons they both felt warranted, but I know the combination is awkward. Some days, you know?

Seriously, though. Ada Twist and the Perilous Pants? What’s not to love?

Really, upon reading it, not much.

I actually enjoyed this better than the first “Questioneers” book. Not only was the rescue of Uncle Ned more exciting, but Ada’s interactions with her family pleased me. The explanations of forces at work probably went a bit over my 6-year-old’s head (I read it aloud to her), but they were still geared toward the intended audience without being condescending. If you were on the fence about continuing with the series, do it! Now, since tonight we spring forward and I have a meeting at 7:30 tomorrow morning, I’M going to go shower and go to bed. Pleasant dreams!

Last Friday I finished reading the sequel to The Higher Power of Lucky aloud to my 11-year-old, and oh, how we enjoyed it! Lucky Breaks picks up within a year of where Higher Power ends, and so we have Lucky helping Brigitte with her new Cafe (imagine that accent!), Lincoln preparing to enter a knot-tying contest, and Miles finally reading on his own. Enter a new (female) friend for Lucky, a ridiculous tale told to Miles and Lincoln (even my hubby, who happened to be in the room, was laughing in sheer disbelief), Chesterfield in the flesh, and a somewhat ill-fated adventure at an old well, and you get a beautiful blend of adventure, relationships, conversation, and feelings, wrapped up in a package that ought to appeal to other mothers and daughters as much as it did to my daughter and me. How does Susan Patron do it? Neither “Lucky” book I’ve read thus far is terribly long, and yet she packs in all of the important things in her very own signature way. Her Hard Pan trilogy is shaping up to be incredible all the way through; I’ll let you know for sure after my girlie and I both finish the book we started while waiting for the last book to come in at the library and actually read that last book. In the meantime, I cleaned up half of the closet area of our bedroom yesterday (with help), and I’m off to attack the other half today. Wish me luck!

I actually chose not to write a post on Sunday because by the time we got back from dinner and FHE at my in-laws’, and I got all of the kiddos to bed, AND I managed my exercising, it was late enough that I really just needed to shower and go to bed. It was unfortunate, though, because now I have three completed books waiting to be reviewed, plus almost a fourth (I just have the end-of-book informational bits to read to my kindergartener today), and I read more than half of a graphic novel last night, which means it’s going to be joining the pile sooner rather than later.

Not that finishing books is a bad thing, mind you. It was just a bad day to miss a review.

Anyway.

SO. Last night I finished Russell Freedman’s Kids at Work: Lewis Hine and the Crusade Against Child Labor, and it was thoroughly fascinating. I learned all sorts of interesting things, from how Lewis Hine got into photography (he’d ended up a teacher and was asked to take pictures of school events) to what he did after his 10 years with the National Child Labor Committee (the American Red Cross sent him to France in 1918), as well as a more detailed record of what he did in-between. Freedman uses Hine’s photographs liberally throughout, and they never fail to capture attention; neither does the information given about the history of child labor in this country. This I would HIGHLY recommend.

Okay, there’s no maybe about it–I’m definitely not punky enough. To be punky enough, I’d have to BE punky, right? But as much as I did enjoy The First Rule of Punk–and I did–I didn’t love it quite the way I wanted to. Partly it was because I wanted to shake Malu (imagine that accent over the u) AND her mom, because if they’d both made an effort to understand the other’s point of view, well…there wouldn’t have been a book? (Possibly.) I also found myself wondering–is being kind punk? Because if it’s not, then we need to modify the idea of punk. Malu does find her own way there, more or less, but perhaps I just got tired of her holding up the idea of punk to herself so constantly. (Also, if wearing clean clothes isn’t punk, that’s a problem. Your mom objecting to the look of your clothes is one thing; your mom enforcing hygiene expectations is something else entirely.)

I think I may have read this book with one leg in my cranky I’m-41-and-oh-my-GOSH-middle-schoolers pants.

Ultimately, it made me happy to see Malu make friends and stretch herself, and I certainly enjoyed the ranchera music I googled in my eternal quest for more context. (Much more than the Ramones song, I confess.) And while the mother/daughter behavior and relationship frustrated me, I’m certain it’s totally relatable for many. As a mom, I found the lack of consequences for the (admittedly relatively tame) lying troubling, but–anyway. Malu’s journey is a relatable one, and this is a solid read for middle schoolers. I’m looking forward to the virtual discussion with our mother/daughter library reading group!