Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I have listened to yet another James Patterson book–this one written with Chris Tebbetts–and gone through the illustrations, and I’ve come to the conclusion that in general, I want more from a middle grade novel than he provides. Maybe it’s because he’s a mystery writer–maybe it’s because he started out writing for adults–but it’s like he’s orally telling a good story, not writing a novel. If you’re going to write a novel with plot elements of some emotional depth, you should grant those elements true emotional depth, you know? Public School Superhero deals with death and incarceration of caregivers, not to mention child hunger and bullying, and yet its tone feels–surface-y. Kenny ponders on being cool, not being a target for mean kids, and the risk of his grandma finding out about his detention; the big things are given little time, and the novel’s fast-moving feel means what time they’re given comes across as a bit–breezy. Am I making sense? The elements of a great book are there, and yet what we end up with is a fun, shallowly satisfying story. And maybe there’s a need for that, especially among reluctant and/or picky readers, BUT. Is a kid who’s actually experiencing the weightier things going to feel represented in this book? Are two white guys–one middle-aged, one closer to old–qualified to tell the story of an inner-city black middle schooler? And really, what do Kenny’s fantasies about a superhero alter-ego really have to do with the story? Because the tie-in seems weak.

Ultimately, Public School Superhero‘s story kept me reading, and the Ray-Ray plot’s ending was pleasing, but I didn’t feel like any of the characters lived for me, and the book wasn’t powerful. If you want fun stories, Patterson’s probably a good choice, but don’t expect true emotional stretching when you read him–even if it feels like it’s called for. That doesn’t seem to be what he’s going for.

I thoroughly enjoyed Gennifer Choldenko’s first two Al Capone books. I finished her third–Al Capone Does My Homework–this month, however, and I am (as you may have noticed?) ambivalent.

On the one hand, there is emotional complexity and more than one enjoyable mystery. Moose and Natalie’s dad is now the assistant warden, a job that comes with more than one variety of risk. A fire in their apartment is blamed on Natalie. Piper’s being–weirdly–nice, and what’s with all the gifts going around the island? The resident kids hold their own investigation (although it’s worth noting that they don’t find the truth at the expense of incompetent adults, which is refreshing), and of all the truths to come out, there’s something to shock everyone.

On the other hand, Natalie has suddenly developed new–tics? obsessions?–that feel like they’ve been inserted solely to further the plot. And Capone’s “cryptic note” is so ridiculously cryptic that it feels as much like an arbitrary nod to series tradition as anything else. I was bothered by both issues less as I grew more caught up in the story, but I couldn’t–quite–forget them.

By the novel’s climax, however, I was captivated. There are some really fantastic moments with Natalie and Moose, not to mention Moose and his dad, and the progress Moose and his mother have made in their (more difficult) relationship is furthered rather than forgotten. Bottom line? I’m still looking forward to the fourth book–I’m also interested in what my son thinks of this one.

Apparently, summer is always going to feel crazier than I think it should; on the other hand, we had a community tragedy last week, and between that and PTA end of fiscal year financials, I haven’t had any brain cells to spare. I still really want to write about the cruise and the brief overnights before it, but if I don’t review the books that are piling up by my computer, they might bury me. And so…

Review #1: Stealing Home, which was an impulse graphic novel pick at the library. Not being Canadian myself, I had no idea that Vancouver had a Japanese baseball team in the early 20th century that won multiple championships–until WWII started and the US and (apparently) Canada went nuts on their coastal residents-of-Japanese-descent. The Asahi, however, were famous in their time, and Stealing Home follows a young boy named Sandy and his family from Vancouver to an internment camp. Sandy’s father, a doctor, continues to treat patients when they need him–even (gasp!) after curfew; Sandy’s mother worries about the possible consequences on their family. There is separation when they are sent off to camps, and it takes time, illness, and heightened understanding to bring their family together again.

Also baseball. So many people love baseball, but I’ve been to a few games, and I get bored quickly. (On the other hand, I do love the literary and cinematic idea of baseball, so there’s that.) What matters here is what baseball and the Asahi represent–community spirit, cultural pride, and the cost of governmental policies during WWII. Bottom line? Stealing Home is totally worth your time.

My second review is of Jacqueline K. Ogburn’s The Unicorn in the Barn, which I finished reading aloud to my 8-year-old on our cruise.  (Britt had recommended it to me for my second girlie, but the 8-year-old is even more animal obsessed, and so I made it one of the choices last time it was time to start a new read-aloud, and that’s what she picked.)  I don’t know that we’ll pick such a long one again–my youngest is very I-have-to-be-in-the-mood-to-be-read-to–but it worked about as well as the book itself did, which is to say, pretty well.  I liked it fine but didn’t quite love it, and it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. 

Eric is likeable, after all, and his living situation–widowed father, older brother–may be incredibly relatable for boy readers, since the author described it very believably.  The magical animals part of the story isn’t terribly explained, but since the premise is more or less that the book takes place in our world and magical animals exist in it, I don’t know that it has to be.  None of the characters felt as thoroughly developed as I wanted them to be, but that may be that the book just skews younger, despite its 290 pages.  (They are illustrated pages, to be fair, and the font isn’t small.)  I honestly think part of my problem was that I liked the premise but wanted it to feel more as if, say, Gary D. Schmidt wrote it.  (Allegra, the neighbor/sort of boss/sort of coworker/sort of friend also annoyed me a bit.)  Ultimately, this is a perfectly fine book about a boy facing serious family changes who discovers that unicorns (and other magical animals) are real and his new neighbor is a vet who treats them (with her daughter as assistant).  I suppose the writing just–for whatever reasons–didn’t grab me.  If you have unicorn fans in your house, though, it’s definitely worth a look.  Tell me what YOU think!

Yes, I’ve been gone for more than half a month, and yes, I have events to catch up on (now that I’ve done the laundry), but we don’t have internet at home right now, so I’m choosing to start by composing and posting book reviews–or at least, one book review–at Britt’s house. Which probably means that it won’t have a working link until Sunday, but we’ll survive, right?

So.  Before we ever left on our Barlow family cruise–which is a big part of what I need to catch up on, but not all of it–I actually managed to finish reading Planet Omar:  Unexpected Super Spy.  (We’re definitely not going to talk about how long it’s been sitting on my shelf instead of being handed off to my son.)  Unexpected Super Spy picks up more or less where Planet Omar: Accidental Trouble Magnet leaves off; Omar and Charlie having become friends with Daniel, the three of them are planning epic Nerf blaster battles when Omar discovers that his family’s mosque is going to close down unless they can raise enough money to replace the roof.  Determined to save it, he embarks on an equally epic fundraising journey (with Charlie and Daniel’s help), only to have the money they raise turn up missing.  Who’s the thief?  Can they find it?  Can the mosque be saved?

The solution to the mystery is kind of fabulous, I have to say.  More than that, however, I appreciate the reality of the sibling dynamics and the portrayal of solid friendships.  (Also the lack of bathroom and gross-out humor.) Omar’s world is an enjoyable place to be, and I love that it’s accessible to my kiddos.  (And me.)  Now, here’s hoping the delay in getting the sequel to him won’t detrimentally affect my son’s enjoyment of it…