Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I have to say, folks, Maria Scrivan’s “Nat” novels are getting better and better. Yesterday (at our elementary school’s literacy night, actually) I finished the third and newest one, Absolutely Nat; it’s the classic kid-at-summer-camp story, complete with Nat’s deathly fear of the purported lake monster. The illustrations were fabulous in the details (I loved Walter!!!), and the interrelations among the kids were varied and meaningful (in the best sense). I expect my graphic-novel-obsessed-12-year-old to love this one.

In other news, we spent last Friday and Saturday night in Kanosh with friends, leaving us to start the week extra tired. That same 12-year-old has been rehearsing for months for “Frozen Jr.”, and she has a performance every night this week (plus a Saturday matinee); I get to braid her hair and give her a bit of make-up before running her to the junior high by 5:30, and having us both tired to begin with has been less than ideal…

Anyway. I was totally going to finish and post this last night, but my 7-year-old threw up in her bed somewhere in the vicinity of 10 pm, and so that’s what the rest of my night was about. (It’s possible she hasn’t dry-heaved since 4:30-ish this morning, at least.) I’m going to pass Absolutely Nat on to my girlies today and try to function as best I can on the amount of sleep I had, so adios, amigos!

When A Wish in the Dark was named a Newbery Honor book, I read the description and thought–weird. A Thai-inspired fantasy version of Les Miserables sounded bizarre to me, and if I love Les Mis, I don’t really love fantasy (not to mention that the world sounded dystopian-ish). My brain filed it under “might like but might really not”, and I put it off…until now.

I confess, I may have finally decided to tackle it because I needed the space on my library card, but tackle it I did–and what a delightful surprise it was. Pong’s journey brought me to tears by the end, Father Cham is more loveable than the Bishop, and I couldn’t help but cheer Nok on as well, despite her being a (teenaged and female) convincing version of Javert. Somkit made me smile, even if the narrator on the audiobook made him sound whiny and annoying (based on the Audible reviews, I’m not the only one who felt that way). If “Thai Fantasy Les Mis” makes you leery, don’t be–this is a jewel of a book, captivating even as it asks difficult questions about safety versus freedom and who deserves what. Don’t put off reading it like I did.

I was struggling to come up with a title for tonight’s post and the above was my 15-year-old’s suggestion; she says it will pique my readers’ interest. (Or should I say my reader’s interest? Because let’s be honest here…) Whether it does or not, I’m going with it!

Part of me is thrilled to be writing this review, you understand, because I finished listening to Darcie Little Badger’s A Snake Falls to Earth last night, and I am SO happy to be done. For whatever reason, I kept losing the story threads when I tried to up the speed past 1.25, so it took longer than audiobooks usually do; it’s also less my thing. The American southwest (and its reflecting world counterpart) is not a setting I relate to well, and the author’s writing style is not–something. Not my thing? I think I’d prefer to hear a story told in her style rather than read one. I did enjoy it more once the two worlds represented in the book collided with each other, but that took longer than I wanted it to. (Part of my problem was audiobook speed, and that is definitely my own personal problem, but the plot pacing also felt slow for the first half of the book.) Nina and her family’s story makes for an interesting tale, and I was much more engaged in the last third of the book–the climax is, in its own way, pretty fabulous. I actually think I would have preferred more of the book to be from Nina’s point of view, although Oli is lovable; ultimately, I’m going to go with it’s a good story, but the structure and style is problematic for me in written form. Bottom line? I wouldn’t have read it if it weren’t a Newbery Honor book, and I would have been okay with not reading it, but I’m not sorry I read it. If you read it, let me know what YOU think!

Also, sorry for the long silence–we all have our struggles, right? My 7th grader had a band concert on the 16th (not to mention her almost daily and ever-lengthening play rehearsals) and I helped my friend Britt with her birthday party planning and execution last week (my 7th grader being one of the guests). I’m currently playing laundry catchup–we all know what a blast THAT is–and, well, life. I’ll try and do better!

I missed posting on Sunday in large part because it was a day of the unexpected; we were planning on one niece and a nephew as dinner guests and ended up with five (two nieces and three nephews). Which was lovely, actually–we split the pieces of grilled chicken and had an impromptu family party, ending with angel food cake, strawberries, whipped cream, and ice cream. A good day!–just unexpected.

Moving on to last night–or rather, very early this morning–I finished Rosena Fung’s Living with Viola, in which Olivia (or Livy) is accompanied by the intangible but visible-to-her embodiment of her anxiety, whom she calls Viola. Viola is the worst kind of company–always ready to belittle, discourage, or criticize–but it’s hard for Livy to push her away, and her voice seems to be getting stronger and stronger. What happens to us when that inner bully is starting to become all we can hear? What happens when we’re overwhelmed by feelings that don’t always make sense, feelings that make it hard to do what we need to do? Using her own experiences as inspiration, Fung shows us one girl who starts to drown in her own anxiety–until she finds the strength to do what all of us need to do when we hit that point.

Talk to someone.

Olivia’s journey tugs at me, given that I have more than one child who struggles with anxiety. I’m hoping they find her story both meaningful and helpful.

I’m also hoping Rosena Fung writes more graphic novels.

That’s right, folks, we are springing forward this weekend. And between how tired I am and the time-change-adjustment-period for the kids, well–doom it is. On the other hand, today being a “student non-attendance day,” the kids and I did some chores and went to Nickelmania, which was good for everybody.

In the meantime, I finished listening to Amy Timberlake’s Egg Marks the Spot (Skunk and Badger 2) last night, and I looked at the rest of the illustrations today. It’s at least as quirky as the first one, but with an outdoorsy feel; Badger and Skunk head off on a rock-finding expedition that gets hijacked by a tiny orange hen, a ginormous yellow backpack, a nefarious weasel cousin, and a guild of rats. Stands are taken, adventures are found, and friendships are discovered (and rediscovered), all rounded out by Jon Klassen’s equally quirky illustrations. At an occasionally illustrated 150 pages, this is a chapter book for kiddos who are transitioning out of the Cam Jansen and Rainbow Magic stage. Let me know what you think!

It feels like it’s been an eventful week already, although I suppose the weekend started that off. On Saturday morning I had the opportunity to go to the temple with my nephew, who’s starting his at-home MTC this month; my lovely in-laws took me, my sister-in-law, and our niece out to lunch; and then we booked it back to my kiddos so that the older girls and I could make it to “Pirates of Penzance Jr.”, featuring their two favorite cousins (at least, on that side!). Afterward I forced myself to hit Walmart–we were out of bunny bedding–and then my youngest and I headed home to my hubby while the older three stayed for cousin sleepovers. (Church felt a little bizarre with just the three of us, but my Sunday School lesson went better than I’d expected, so that was good.) We had dinner in Clearfield, where we retrieved our three, and then on Monday there was child drama with our 12-year-old. (While I think good things came out of it, it wasn’t the hoped-for start to the day.) My son got his second Covid shot after school–thankfully, he barely seems to be sore!–and then yesterday I bit the bullet and CLEANED OUT THE FRIDGE. As in, removed all drawers and most shelves, tossed sketchy food (including the indisputable source of the odor), organized and inventoried, and essentially made the inside look new. Go me! I even turned something that had been in the fridge for a while into dinner, which felt like a definite win. The three younger kids were in bed at a good time, too–we’re prioritizing that because of the upcoming time change–AND I got to finish reading Flight of the Bluebird (The Unintentional Adventures of the Bland Sisters, Book 3) with my 12-year-old. Which is what brings us together today…

After successfully surviving Walmart this morning–because apparently BOTH pairs of my son’s sneakers have holes in them, and it’s been snowy again–I have exercised, done a load of wash, eaten lunch, and made Jello, which makes the review of Bluebird the logical next step. It’s proving to be more difficult than I was hoping, however, because I’m of two minds about this one. As a book with far more than a passing nod to “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, it’s hilarious; as the final book in the “Bland Sisters” trilogy, however, I have my doubts about the character arcs. I’m just not sure the path set out in the first book actually leads to where this third book ends. On the other hand, if I ponder it, I feel like there is a psychological case to be made in its favor. (It’s not as strong a case as one might wish, but it’s there.) Either way, I feel like the first book has a different flavor than the other two, and while books 2 and 3 were totally worth it as parodies, I enjoyed the first book the most–and on its own merits. Do with that what you will!

Sorry I’ve been a bit absent here–it’s been kind of a busy week. On Monday I was a chaperone on my first grader’s aquarium field trip, Tuesday I went to the temple, the library, and out to lunch, and yesterday I had a laundry party in between the kid schlepping that is currently my Wednesday afternoons. Today, however, I DID THE THING that I’ve been putting off for over two years now, ever since I hit 40–I got my first mammogram. Go me, right? Because I think that means I’m good for another 5 years, which is the definite silver lining…assuming I don’t get called back in. (Apparently when it’s your first and they have nothing to compare it to, you’re more likely to get called back in for a second look.) I can’t say I enjoyed the experience, but I’m glad I did it!

By the way, in case you haven’t had the joy of being around first grade boys in a while…
First Grade Boy #1: I think sea turtles are majestic.
First Grade Boy #2: I’d like a pet that goes potty a lot. Do you know any animals that go to the bathroom about every second?
I am ridiculously pleased that my daughter is best friends with Boy #1!

In other news, I finished reading Megabat and Fancy Cat to that same first grade daughter yesterday. The illustrations aren’t quite my preference, but it’s a cute series; this second book is your standard “Toy Story” plot of jealousy towards the new guy that results in some bad choices before reassurance and resolution are reached. The puffer rats make for a fun side plot, and my girlie seemed to enjoy it more than the first one. We’ll see what she thinks of book number 3!

We didn’t even have school on Monday and Tuesday, but yowsers. Monday we were in Idaho with family, Tuesday we drove HOME from Idaho, and Wednesday I drove all over creation in our corner of the Salt Lake Valley. (Seriously–the elementary school, home for a bit, the pharmacy, the library, Great Harvest Bread, the high school, counseling in Sandy, a drive-through and then home for half an hour, the orthodontist, the elementary school again, home for another half hour, dance, the pharmacy again, the junior high, dance again, and THEN home.) Yesterday was a housework kind of day until after school, when there was more driving; today I worked at learning how to knit and then hit Costco, the elementary school, home, piano lessons, and then some housework. Good times, right?

Anyway. Over lunch yesterday I managed to finish Steve Sheinkin’s third ‘Time Twister’ book–Neil Armstrong and Nat Love, Space Cowboys. (We are NOT going to talk about how long it’s been sitting on my shelf.) The writing is just younger than I thoroughly enjoy, but the history mix-up scenarios are fun, and this one–involving the Eagle accidentally landing in the Wild West before making it to the surface of the moon, Doc and Abby coming to the rescue, and Abe Lincoln with a tuba–is no different. I’m hoping the long wait doesn’t mean my son is too old to enjoy this one!

Could you tell I’ve been out of town? It was a pretty quick trip, granted, but I meant to do a post before we left, and…yeah.

Not so much.

We’re back, however, and that’s lucky, because Andrea Wang’s Watercress is due and not renewable today. This lovely picture book is one of this year’s Newbery Honor books, and I thoroughly enjoyed it; Wang took her own experience as a child of immigrants and (with the help of Jason Chin’s illustrations) created a reminder in story of our tendency to resent what makes us different, especially when we don’t understand the reasons behind it. While this can be especially true between generations, communication can mitigate the problem…which just feels like a stuffy review for a poignant tale of how picking watercress by the roadside becomes an entirely different experience once the young narrator learns more about her parents’ early lives in China. I’m honestly not sure what my children thought of it, but it was a pleasure for me to read! And now, to get my overtired children off to bed early…

I finished Kyle Lukoff’s Too Bright to See more than a week ago–possibly more than two?–and I’ve been debating how to write and structure this review ever since. While Lukoff’s novel has moments of brilliant writing, this story didn’t work for me, for multiple reasons; for lack of any better ideas after days (weeks?) of considering, I’m going to make a list of those reasons as the main portion of my review.

1)Uncle Roderick. His living self is portrayed as tirelessly loving and supportive, which makes sense from Bug’s perspective as a child mourning a recently dead loved adult, but his ghost presence is creepy, pushy, and scary. My parental instincts screamed as this ghost put Bug into uncomfortable and not-completely-safe situations MORE THAN ONCE.
2)The treatment of the “inner narrator” idea. As a child, I constantly narrated my day-to-day life in my head, whether to spruce up (or hurry along) a tedious task or just to tell the story of my life in a more exciting way. There were frequently “monsters” (or other undefined bad guys) to be vanquished (or appeased) by my setting the table neatly in a timely fashion, not to mention a dramatic flair to my inner descriptions of how and where I rode my bike. Imagining oneself as a fictional character seems completely normal to me, and I don’t see how it would magically stop because Bug came out as trans; I can’t see how gender transforms experiences like wandering in the woods (or setting the table).
3)Dancing around the name on Bug’s birth certificate. Referring to a first name as part of the plot but refusing to reveal it was irritating when Daphne du Maurier did it in Rebecca; it still is.
4)And while we’re on the subject of names, on the first day of school everyone calls the main character Bug, and–I quote, with emphasis added–“nobody laughs or comments on my name.” Who is this book FOR? Because no kid actually starting middle school is going to buy that, and if a book feels like a fairy tale, are the intended readers going to get out of it what the author likely wants them to?
5)Potentially ignored sensory issues and/or autism spectrum tendencies, because there were possible indications of both.
6)Partly because of that, Bug’s “I’m a boy” coming twenty pages after “…I don’t think that I am a boy. I don’t feel like a boy that everyone thinks is a girl” is a jump that doesn’t make sense to me. And here’s a spoiler alert, so feel free to skip to the “Note” below if you want to–an adult ghost forcing a child to cut off all its hair in the middle of the night seems to me to be an abusive violation of that child’s bodily autonomy. (It’s not a “joint” act if one is an adult and the other a child and there has been no plan, discussion, or consent.) Lukoff treats this act as the revelatory moment, the catalyst that begins the rest of Bug’s life, and I can’t get past the fact that IT WAS NOT OKAY.
Note: This 7th reason is going to relate to my personal beliefs; I will do my best to be courteous and respectful, and I expect any readers who choose to comment to do the same.
7)I believe that “gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose”, and I believe that (presupposing a body to be free of significant medical abnormalities) gender is determined by biological sex. My husband is a man who loves football, enjoys Broadway musicals, and crochets; I am a woman who loves books, history, and puzzles. (Also the Oxford comma, because everyone should.) I have given birth, but my husband loves babies and small children more than I ever will. I believe that I am myself, with all my traits and characteristics, and that self is female because I am female. I don’t believe clothing and haircut choices (when they ARE choices), hobbies, friends, or other preferences change who you are.

Ultimately, Too Bright to See made me deeply uncomfortable. Uncle Roderick’s ghost did not encourage Bug towards self-discovery; instead, it pushed Bug in the direction of its own agenda. (To clarify, I’m using “it” for the ghost because “he” would refer to the living man as portrayed in Bug’s occasional flashbacks.) I would love to feel the presence of my deceased relatives encouraging me to embrace and love myself as I am; a ghost that invades an 11-year-old’s dreams in order to alter the child’s body is not a presence I ever need in my life.