Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I finished the newest Baby-Sitters Club graphic novel–Claudia and the New Girl–night before last, and while I wouldn’t mind reviewing something else, I think my 11-year-old might die if she doesn’t get her hands on it soon. Initial impression? Hey, we’re doing the graphic novels in fours. Raina Telgemeier did the first four, Gale Galligan the second four, and now we have Gabriela Epstein, of whom I have not heard before. (Of course, I could have said the same about Gale Galligan four books ago.) Her lines are a little bit thinner, but I enjoyed her art, and the story was engaging, if slightly didactic. Claudia feels appreciated as an artist by the new girl in school, but as Ashley pushes her to focus on her art and discourages all other pursuits, Claudia finally starts to examine her definition of friendship. Frankly, if you’re going to be didactic to tween and early teenage girls, doing it on the subject of what a good friend really is may be the best possible option, so it mostly worked for me; this is another solid entry for the series.

In other news, I’m the meanest mom ever. Our new couch reclines, and there has been contention over the footrest that’s currently available for use. My son likes to claim it as often as possible, and when his little sister objected this morning, I told him to work out a way to take turns with her or no one got it. His response? “Okay, nobody gets it.” Cruel mother that I am, I responded that if he wasn’t going to make an effort to take turns at all, he could abstain from footrests until after lunch, and his little sister was welcome to it.

It’s the hard-knock life.

I can’t remember when the “Science Comics” series came on my radar, but the idea intrigued me: a series of graphic novels (except nonfiction, which is not actually what a novel is, but I have yet to resolve the terminology for nonfiction graphic novels to my satisfaction) about varying scientific topics in about the hundred-page range. My 11-year-old LOVES graphic novels; on the other hand, she’s not at all a big fan of science. Will the format win her over? Will she end up unengaged? (Inquiring minds want to know!) To that end, I picked one and checked it out of the library, and it finally reached the front of the reading queue. Science Comics: Polar Bears: Survival on the Ice was interesting, informative, and struck a nice note between creating a story and covering its topic thoroughly. (ALL the kinds of ice!) If the others in the series are similar, this ought to be a great way to hook kids on science OR enable scientifically minded reluctant readers to get more comfortable with reading. I’ll let you know what my kiddos think!

In daily news, on the other hand, today I hit the eye doctor with the middles, band for #2, and an appointment AND a birthday party for #3. Bunny cages didn’t get cleaned, but at least we made all of the appointments! (Unlike the orthodontist on Tuesday, which we completely spaced.) Here’s hoping for a productive day tomorrow…

I’ve loved almost all of Andrea Beaty’s books thus far, but it’s taken me forever to get around to her “Questioneers” series, because it’s in between her other books developmentally. I’ve read her picture books out loud to my kiddos, and I’ve read some of her older books myself, but Rosie Revere and the Raucous Riveters is too long to read aloud in one sitting and too short for me to have prioritized it over other books on my shelf–until now. Because I have a morning kindergartener, my friends, who has a hard time sitting and eating, and easy chapter books are PERFECT for lunchtime read-alouds. It took us several sessions to get through this one, but she seemed to enjoy it. (I think she even asked for more like it a few days after we finished it, so that’s a win!) I enjoyed it as well, although it’s a bit young for what I prefer to read on my own, and so we’re both looking forward to moving on with the series. Wahoo!

In local news, we had the kind of snow last night and this morning that made me suddenly glad to have quarantined elementary schoolers. (Also grateful on behalf of our snowpack percentages.) I didn’t drive anywhere, and the littles spent a whole lot of time out in the snow; we had nachos for dinner and I attempted a spontaneous Indian Pudding, since it’s National Indian Pudding Day. (What? You didn’t know that? I’m shocked!) It tasted good, but I imagine the texture will be more impressive next time. (My pot was too small, and it affected my egg tempering.) Sadly for my 11-year-old, she had to miss a church activity that she helped plan, and she was crushed and mad and all the hard feelings over it. We did get to do our Great Reads library meet (Webex, not Zoom), so there was that, and she was doing better by bedtime. I’m actually thrilled to see her so serious about her responsibilities–it just wasn’t a fun conversation.

Anyway. I’m going to read a bit and then shower, so I’ll wish you all a good night!

Jason Reynolds’ Look Both Ways: A Tale Told in Ten Blocks is not quite a collection of short stories–or perhaps it’s just barely one. For me, it was really more of a zoom-out, or a fictional documentary; each story contributes to the overall picture, and the main characters of each story pop up in the background of another story or two, because each story is happening (at least partly) at the same time. Following middle school students home from school is a surprisingly effective way to get to know them, and Reynolds handles the format with skill. I have a middle school librarian friend who didn’t love it–she said many of the stories felt like first chapters, and she’s not wrong–but (surprisingly enough!) it worked for me. Honestly, I was surprised by that, given how much I prefer closure and answers, but then, Reynolds likes to leave you hanging at the end, so perhaps I was unknowingly prepared for it. If ALL of the man’s book were collections like this, mind, I probably wouldn’t seek all of them out; they aren’t, however, and Reynolds is becoming one of those authors that I want to read just about all of. (That “of” is hanging at the end there, and I know it, but words are not flowing tonight. Sorry.) I’m never going to be as into Look Both Ways as, say, his “Track” series, but this was still a uniquely enjoyable reading experience.

What did you think?

I was looking for a way to combine my youngest girlie’s birthday–which was yesterday–and Ellen Feldman’s Paris Never Leaves You; ‘daughters’ was the only similarity I could come up with. Which works, right? My youngest girlie is also my youngest anything, and the fact that she is six (now officially old enough to butter her own muffins with a plastic kid knife!) feels a little crazy. Not to mention the fact that we’re still celebrating, because today is distance learning (because of SEPs), and thus much more conducive to coffee cake for a birthday breakfast as well as gnocchi for her birthday dinner. (We did have ice cream sundaes for her birthday dessert last night, as well as presents.) I’ve cooked the potatoes–which are cooling on the stove–and after this review and some possible putting away of laundry, gnocchi dough is in my future! (By the by, I wasn’t sure how she felt about her birthday gifts yesterday, but there seems to be a lot of playing with them today, so that’s a good sign.)

In the meantime, Feldman’s book is also about a mother with a daughter–a Parisian mother who gave birth to a daughter on the day that the Nazis entered Paris. Life has taken Charlotte Foret from a Paris bookshop to a cubicle at a New York publishing house; she has made a life for herself and her daughter and has no desire to think about their war years. The past, however, is an inescapable part of life, is it not?

I recognize that as descriptions go, that one is obnoxiously vague. This is a spellbinding novel, however, and not one that you can summarize easily; better to experience what Charlotte experiences as the novel unfolds. Paris Never Leaves You is both austerely hopeful and philosophically complex; it’s also a compelling story of life during an enemy occupation and what comes afterward. It manages to be both an utterly human novel–a novel of people and their lives–as well as an extraordinarily thought-provoking one. It stays in your head, flooding your mind with thoughts of choices and humanity. There is infidelity–which is never my preference–but it didn’t ruin the reading experience for me, as it so often does. (It still didn’t make me happy, mind you, because infidelity is wrong. I’ve been married for more than twenty years now, and our happiness is hard-won, as is most marital happiness; we’ve won it by keeping our commitment to each other. If your marriage isn’t a place you feel you can stay, you owe it to yourself and your integrity to exit honestly.) It’s somewhat open ended, but in a way that feels necessary, whether there is ever a sequel or not. Ultimately, I found Paris Never Leaves You impressive, and I’m grateful to St. Martin’s Press for the ARE.*

*With the one exception of the title. I’m not sure what I would have called it, but I don’t feel like that title did it justice.

Tae Keller’s When You Trap a Tiger was on my radar before it won last month; it was being talked about in the book world, and the family aspect looked to be up my alley. I’m not sure when I would have gotten to it if it hadn’t won the Newbery Medal, but it did, and so you have the pleasure of this review!

Anyway. I think the simplest way to describe When You Trap a Tiger is that it’s an older Korean cousin to Grace Lin’s Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, Starry River of the Sky, and When the Sea Turned to Silver. Like Lin, Keller intertwines folklore with family life, blurring the lines between prosaic reality and a different kind of truth. Keller’s story, however, uses contemporary reality instead of historical, and for me, that made the sadness of Halmoni’s illness a much sharper thing. As Lily attempts to trap and negotiate with the tiger only she can see–hoping to heal her halmoni, or grandmother–her relationships with those around her start to shift. And when her family’s story reaches its crisis point, it is Lily who must find a way to heal what can be healed while accepting what cannot be.

This was most certainly an emotional book to read, partly because Lily’s own emotions–not to mention her mother’s and sister’s–are in such turmoil throughout the book. It is Lily’s book first and foremost, but it is also a sister story (which tugged at me) as well as a mother/daughter and grandmother/granddaughter story; it’s the sort of book that has you both crying and laughing at the end. (It also has an LGBTQ+ side story, although to be honest with you, I found it somewhat distracting. A romantic relationship when the family has JUST BARELY moved back to a place they haven’t even visited for years feels rushed.) Ultimately, it’s not perfectly my thing (the fantasy element), but it’s a completely worthwhile read. Let me know what you think!

Frankly, if I read the original Logan Likes Mary Anne! as I kid, I have no memory of it. Most of the other Babysitters Club books that have been adapted into graphic novels have been nostalgic for me, however, and so I’ve been reading them right along with my girls and enjoying the faint sense of childhood it brings. This one felt a little uneven–Mary Anne’s character (and her friends’ decisions) seem slightly manipulated to suit the plot idea–but hey, it is what it is, and it was still fun. Now to put the next one on hold, because apparently, it’s out already. Possibly 2020 affected either how close together they were released OR how soon our library got it? (Or, of course, how soon we were actually able to GET it from the library…)

Anyway. I hope y’all had a lovely Sunday! (And yes, I realize I didn’t really describe the book. The title pretty much did that for me.)

When I’m in need of some fluffy reading, I’m a Regency romance sort of person, while my 11-year-old would re-read her favorite graphic novels every week if she could. Breena Bard’s Trespassers is likely to be her version of fluff; while it lacks the depth of Svetlana Chmakova’s or Victoria Jamieson’s books, it’s got fluctuating friend dynamics, a summer lakeside getaway, and a people-oriented mystery. (Also one miniscule editing fail that amused me greatly. We’ll see if she spots it!) Bard’s art is less expressive than is my preference, but it gets the job done, and the plot line I was keeping an eye on as ‘potentially older than my 11-year-old needs’ developed quite differently (in a pleasantly surprising sort of way) than I was expecting. All in all, Trespassers has some depth and a fun mystery; graphic novel fans should enjoy this one.

My friend Andrea picked School of Charm for Book Club ages ago; I started it over two years ago and then got sidetracked by the holidays. For one reason or another it’s been languishing in the pile by my bed since then, waiting for me to get back to it–until now. Remember how I’ve been deliberately working on my “Currently Reading” list? I realized that School of Charm would probably make a good read aloud for my 11-year-old, and–hallelujah!–we finished it on Monday.

Here’s the thing. There’s a lot to capture my interest here–when Chip’s dad dies, she and her family move in with their maternal grandmother in North Carolina, whom the children have never met. While Chip’s mother, grandmother, and older sister are part of the beauty pageant life, and little Ruthie is young enough to fit in anywhere, Chip is a tomboy who spent much of her time with her father. As a result, she doesn’t know where to fit in with her family anymore. When she sees a sign nearby for “Miss Vernie’s School of Charm”, she decides that perhaps that will help; so begins a rocky journey to find her place in her new home.

So far, so good, right? Totally up my alley. The problem is that this is one of those books where the problem doesn’t get appreciably better until the very end; 90% of the book is suffering through the problem, and the solution feels comparably sudden. That’s never been my jam–I like reading about the process of recovery–and in this case, Chip’s unhappiness and her family’s attitudes are incredibly painful to read about as a parent. I’m not saying it’s not realistic–grief is hard, and when it necessitates other significant life changes, it can cause people to act in all kinds of uncharacteristic ways–but it made for a difficult reading experience.

Of course, on the other hand, I think my girlie enjoyed it. Perhaps this is just a book best enjoyed by its intended audience.

It wasn’t long ago that I read Jamie Sumner’s Roll With It, which I found interesting and thoroughly likable (as expected, my 11-year-old LOVED it). I was consequently stoked when I realized our library had gotten Sumner’s newest book, Tune It Out, in eaudiobook format. On hold it went, and that 11-year-old of mine has been waiting somewhat impatiently for me to finish and pass on the hard copy to her. I finally finished it a bit ago, and I have to say–wow.

I tell you what, WOW.

Roll With It is good, folks, don’t think it isn’t, but Tune It Out is great.* It deals with tough things with hope and sensitivity (and ALL the feels). Lou’s life with her single mom in their truck is one that too many children in this country can relate to, as is her sudden removal from that life. Her sensory issues, however, make her situation all the more complex, which is what gives Lou’s story so much depth. Her adjustment to life with the aunt she barely remembers (and the uncle she’s never met) is bumpy and complicated, but it also proves to be a journey to a level of wellness she’s never experienced before. By the end, I wanted to give her a standing ovation–and NOT just for her performance. If you have an older elementary or middle school student, don’t miss this one.

*It almost feels like the author’s personal experience with a child with cerebral palsy gives Roll With It a bit of a consciously informative vibe, while Tune It Out is pure story.