Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I read Meg McKinlay’s Duck for a Day out loud to my kindergartener over a period of several days, and it was an interesting experience. It’s hard to tell how much she likes it when I read aloud chapter books–she’s got sort of a poker face when it comes to longer reads–but she wanted me to keep going! I rather enjoyed it, actually (there’s a subtle humor that parents will likely appreciate even more than little ones), and I think kids will too; Abby’s longing to bring the class pet home for a day, since her parents won’t allow her to get a pet of her own, is something children will readily understand. Leila Rudge’s charming (and funny!) illustrations add much to an already layered story, making this a great read for (or with) an early middle grader.

I picked up All My Friends Are Ghosts from a graphic novel display at the library, because it sounded like a fun read for my graphic novel-adoring 11-year-old. I brought it to Idaho with me to preview, though, and after reading it, I decided–nah. It seemed like such a fun idea–misfit girl wanders into the woods and ends up at a ghost school–but it just didn’t deliver; the plot was iffy, I found some of the art a little too odd, and the fart jokes? Seriously? Just no. There’s nothing more harmful than that, it’s true, but it felt like the authors couldn’t decide between tween girls and 8-year-old boys as their audience. If one of my kids brings it home, then whatever, but it’s not good enough for me to pass on to them myself. Unless you have a voracious graphic novel reader interested in the paranormal–AND fart jokes don’t bother you–I’d skip this one.

And no, I’m not talking about George Eliot–that would be a whole different era. I realized the other night that in trying to think of other books by Jean Craighead George, I was instead coming up with books by Elizabeth George Speare. (I was clearly tired, but it explained why things weren’t sounding quite right in my head. And both writers have won multiple Newberys, which partly explains my confusion. I eventually got myself mentally organized.) At any rate, I read Jean Craighead George’s Julie books several years ago, but this week I finished My Side of the Mountain for the first time. It’s a bit like Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet, and then again a bit like Elizabeth George Speare’s The Sign of the Beaver, but it’s more relaxed than either book. Sam Gribley isn’t dealing with familial problems, particularly; he just wants to go live in the woods. And so he does.

In one sense, that’s pretty much the plot of the book. In another sense, however, My Side of the Mountain is part field and nature guide and partly a pondering on civilization, our dependence on modern conveniences, and just how remotely one wants to live. Of course, it’s also a boy’s fantasy come to life. (And maybe a girl’s–I just never had a desire to run off to the woods myself. Then again, I more or less lived in them already, and why give up modern conveniences when it would have meant less time to read? I was a hopeless bookworm.) Moreover, Sam certainly does a solid job of it, although some of his skills are more believable than others. (You can learn a lot of things in books, but sewing well by hand is a skill, and not a terribly common one among teenage boys–even in 1959.) Overall, it’s a leisurely and interesting story, in a highly informative kind of way. It reads, perhaps, more than a little like a daydream come to life. If such a daydream appeals, than the book will, too.*

*My apologies for what I feel is a rather weakly written review. I think some of my writing skills must be hibernating.

I finished Goodbye, Mr. Terupt today, and I have to say, as much as I enjoy Rob Buyea’s books, I’m not sure this one was quite as good. It had poignant moments, to be sure, but…I don’t know. I imagine that part of the problem is that I’m too old for the eighth grade romances to feel anything but SO YOUNG; I also felt, however, that Peter’s character was a bit all over the map. (Then again, maybe the mix is more realistic than I realize–my son has yet to hit puberty, and my only brother is too much older than I am for me to remember him at that age.) The bucket list idea was fun, but–I guess the plot as a whole felt a bit contrived to me in the way Buyea’s other books haven’t. They’ve all been improbable, but that’s never been a problem for me before; this one just felt different.

I don’t know. I still totally enjoyed the story, so maybe I’m splitting hairs. I do know that fans of Mr. Terupt and the Gang will most definitely want to experience their last year together; my 11-year-old is eagerly anticipating her turn to read about it. Ultimately, I’m interested to see how she and her older sister feel. If you read it, let me know what you think!

I started reading Susan Campbell Bartoletti’s Kids on Strike to my older girlies a LONG time ago, folks. (Like, over two years ago.) At the time, they’d seen a cousin in her high school’s production of “Newsies” and they were interested; I was hoping to combine a book I wanted to read with our reading aloud time. It went along pretty well, considering, until we got to the chapter on the Newsies’ strike. It was Christmas-time, the book was due and not renewable, and by the time life slowed down and it was possible to pick back up again, my girls’ enthusiasm for listening to nonfiction had cooled. I still wanted to finish it, however, and so I kept renewing it or checking it back out again. (This was complicated by the fact that our library system only has one copy, and it’s frequently on hold.) I recently determined to revisit my “currently reading” list on Goodreads, however, and so I determined to start moving through Kids on Strike. It’s totally interesting material, but the presence of four school-age children in my house leaves me struggling to concentrate on nonfiction at the end of the day (and completely unable to concentrate on it when they’re awake and home), and so it was a process. When someone once again put it on hold, though, I decided to power through so I wouldn’t have to wait for him or her to read it before getting it back.

I finished it tonight.

It really is fascinating stuff, folks. Some of the strikes I knew about (and had read fiction about, in at least one case); some I’d never heard of. Some I wholeheartedly sympathized with while the issues (or methods) of others felt more complicated to me. All in all, Kids on Strike covers both a goodly portion of the history of child labor in America and a piece of the amazing legacy that our children and youth have created in this country. It’s a book well worth your time.

Okay, I admit, I chose that title mostly for the alliteration. Still, it’s basically accurate–after reading Maria Scrivan’s Forget Me Nat, I find myself wishing my junior high crushes had ended as well for me as Nat’s does for her. Not that her crush likes her back, mind–and this is hardly a spoiler when the book’s description tells you that he “just wants to be friends”–but that her friends both support her AND call her on it when her wallowing grows excessively selfish. That plus her recognition of how NOT to get over heartbreak and, later, how to actually GET over heartbreak (I loved those pages–it was a perfect graphic novel moment!) made Nat’s junior high–middle school?–crush an actual opportunity for growth.

By contrast, I look back at my junior high self and all I can think of is Jean Claude, the French Pea, telling Archibald Asparagus, “I am embarrassed for you!” (Here that is, for your viewing pleasure…The Hopperena (Veggie Tales)) I didn’t generally speak to the objects of my crushes; I just mooned from afar in a lonely and pathetic sort of way. (Okay, there was one boy when I was in 10th grade, but as I wasn’t old enough to date, I had to say no when he asked me. Which, believe me, was a WONDERFUL thing. I was not at all mature enough to be on a date with a boy.) I also never made it to the point where I understood how important it was to be a happy, whole person myself, with or without a boy in the picture. Forget Me Nat does an impressive job at conveying healthy emotional attitudes in a young-feeling story that’s a bit lighter on text than your average middle grade graphic novel. In short–I’m almost as excited to pass it on to my 11-year-old as she is to get it from me. It can only help her as she dives into middle school this August.

MY 11-YEAR-OLD IS STARTING MIDDLE SCHOOL THIS YEAR.

Excuse me while I go engage in some self-soothing rituals…

Yep–we drove home from Idaho yesterday, and today is business as usual. (And having the kids gone is a beautiful thing this morning–the quiet house is helping me be productive.) But oh, it was lovely to be with family, and we exchanged the last of our Christmas gifts, and my mother made her incomparable doughnuts…

Anyway. Business as usual, right? I actually managed to finish multiple books on this trip, and Eileen Spinelli’s Where I Live was one of them. (I even handed it off to my 11-year-old when I was done, and since it’s a verse novel, she read it over breakfast. Which is a good thing, because it turns out it’s due and not renewable today!) It’s a lovely little book about friendship, moving, and family, and Matt Phelan’s illustrations are a perfect balance of poignant and adorable. It’s short enough that saying much more about it would give it away, but it’s a beautiful verse novel. Don’t miss this one!

That’s right, folks–I’m taking a break for some much needed family time. I’ll get back into the swing of things after the long weekend!

I listened to Veera Hiranandani’s The Night Diary this week, and you really should just go out and buy this book. (The print copy or the audio, because the audio was lovely.) I am SO GLAD this was a Newbery Honor book, because I have never come across a middle grade book about Partition before–the Partition of India in 1947–and it was a heartbreakingly fascinating reading experience. Nisha’s diary of letters to her mother (who died in childbirth) is accessible and beautiful and poignant, and it adds a layer of Newbery diversity that I’ve never seen before. (I haven’t read all of them yet, it’s true–but I have read an awful lot.) Why don’t we know more about this piece of history? I recognize that our country wasn’t particularly involved, but this is part of the history of OUR WORLD.

Of course, that’s exactly why historical fiction matters so much–it brings the history of our world alive for those of us who weren’t alive to see it. Nisha’s family’s part of India becomes another country in August of 1947, and as Hindus, they are suddenly on the wrong side of the India-Pakistan border. Their journey to the new India–and to safety–is seen through the eyes of a girl old enough to know that what’s happening around her makes no sense and young enough not to understand why it’s happening anyway. This is an important book–a book with a message that matters as much today as it would have back then–and simultaneously a good book, a book that draws you in and whose characters tug at your heart. Read it–give it to your children–talk about it to your friends.

I’m in the middle of doing just that.

I’ve been making an effort to keep one of the collection of short graphic novels that I read and pass on to the kids in the bathroom drawer, so that when I’m stealing a few extra minutes to myself (like parents do), I can make my way through them, one at a time, instead of just playing on my phone. Between that and the books I’ve been reading to my kindergartener at lunch, I’ve managed to pass at least four on in the last couple of days. Go me! I also started putting Christmas decorations away today. Not many, I confess, but some. It’s a task I struggle to make myself do, but I’m hoping that tomorrow, during distance learning, I can power through packing away the ornaments so that we can take down the tree. Wish me luck!

Well, okay. Wish me motivation!