Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

My friend Britt read Fish in a Tree several years ago and loved it, telling me it needed to be a thing in my life; I finally got around to it this month while questing for good books for my second girlie for Christmas.

I SO enjoyed it.

Ally captured me from the get-go, and her growing friendships are fabulous. Sometime in the middle of it, however, I went to look at what other books Lynda Mullaly Hunt has written, and I came across a bunch of negative reviews. Reading those mid-book was probably a mistake, as it messed with my reading experience, but it did make me think critically about this story of a floundering dyslexic girl whose life is finally changed for the better by a long-term sub and her own changing attitude. Now, I can’t speak to the complaint by a military kid that the military kid details weren’t accurate; I wouldn’t know. The complaints about stock characters and a story that’s been told before? Well, there are certain kinds of people everywhere, and people all over the world live their own versions of some of the same stories every day. The complaints by readers, some of them teachers, who didn’t believe that a kid could get to 6th grade without others knowing she can’t read? I wish that were the case.

I REALLY do.

A girl who’s moved around a lot? A bright girl who plays for laughs and has strategies in place for all kinds of potentially revealing situations? Depending on how many kids a teacher has in a given class, what kind of budget and extra resources are available, what kind of assessments are given, how the student’s and teacher’s personalities interact…it’s unfortunately very possible, now matter how much we don’t want it to be. Hunt’s story isn’t perfect, perhaps–the pacing and journey are perhaps not fully realistic, and I wondered about Ally’s mom’s lack of awareness–but it’s still a poignant story of overcoming and growth, and those are my happy place. (Add in an inspiring teacher, based loosely on the author’s own experience? I am ALL OVER that.) If you (or your kiddos) enjoy Patricia Polacco or Rob Buyea, then I promise you–this book is for you.

I am NOT normally an eat-the-frosting-off-the-cake sort of person (especially if it’s store-bought, because ewww.) My oldest, however, requested a pumpkin poke cake for her birthday last month, and the whipped cream frosting sweetened with brown sugar and laced with vanilla–I could have eaten that with a spoon. (I may have actually done so a little bit…) I looked through scores of recipes before I found this version of Pumpkin Poke Cake, because that same oldest daughter doesn’t like cream cheese and wanted a sweetened condensed milk filling instead of a caramel one–AND doesn’t care for spice cake mix. (DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY RECIPES THAT DISQUALIFIES?!) I pretty much followed the directions, too, although I added basically the whole can of sweetened condensed milk and preferred it that way (those who are hyper-sensitive to texture might not). I also, of course, would have preferred caramel drizzle and cream cheese frosting; my daughter, however, loved it, and none of us thought it was a hardship to eat.

Out of curiosity, what would you prefer?

I finished Ursula Vernon’s Dragonbreath the other night, and it should be a nice addition to my 8-year-old son’s Christmas. He’s harder to choose books for than my older girls are–less of a bookworm, really–but Ursula Vernon is a nice middle ground between graphic novel and not, so to speak. (And she’s funny). I will say that I could tell Dragonbreath was written before the Hamster Princess books–Vernon has grown as a writer–but it’s still a perfectly enjoyable pilot, and I’m looking forward to the series. Danny and his friend complement each other nicely; their adventures are a fun mix of school story and madcap adventure. Vernon’s fabulous voice is definitely there, and mid-elementary schoolers should totally enjoy this one.

I’m sorry about Saturday, but it was a little nuts–I took my older two up to Davis County to see my niece’s high school production of “Footloose,” and there was cleaning before and after. Today, however, I need to review Maria Scrivan’s Nat Enough, which my friend ordered for me on her Scholastic Book Club Order back at the beginning of quarantine. I’ve had it stashed away, carefully hidden from my 11-year-old’s inquisitive eyes, until suddenly Thanksgiving was over and Christmas is barreling towards us and HOLY COW I NEED TO READ THE BOOK!

(A side note–that girlie of mine reads and re-reads AND re-re-reads–ad nauseam–any graphic novel she can get her hands on. Knowing this, I’m pretty careful about what I actually give her to keep. Anything she’s going to spend that much time with has to be a positive force in her life.)

Luckily for me, Nat Enough is both a quick read and an encouraging one. Nat’s best friend ditches her at the start of middle school, and while her initial desperate attempts to get her back are painful for a mother of 3 daughters to watch, her journey towards real friendship is a satisfying one. This is a faster read than a Telgemeier or a Jamieson, but it’s an important sort of story for tween girls to hear. Christmas morning, here it comes!

We’re having family pictures taken tomorrow, and after figuring out what to wear (something I LOATHE) and doing my best to juggle the things that sort of conflict, tonight I gave my hubby a haircut. One more thing off the list, right? There’s still plenty of laundry and Christmas prep there, of course, but I’m working on it!

My last task for tonight is to review Finding Langston, which has been sitting on my shelf for probably two years. (You know those books that are so short that you’re sure you’ll just zip right through it any day now?) I finally realized that it could work as a read-aloud with my 11-year-old, and we ended up both quite enjoying it. Lesa Cline-Ransome’s Langston is eleven and newly moved to Chicago with his father after his mother’s death. The city is noisy, crowded, and lonely for a country boy from Alabama, and the school bully only makes it worse. On the day he realizes that the George Cleveland Hall Library is open to all Chicago residents, however, his life slowly begins to change. Langston Hughes’ poetry “puts all the things he feels inside on the outside,” and ultimately helps him understand both of his parents better. Eleven-year-old Langston’s afternoons at the library also help change the dynamic at school, and slowly, his life begins to shift for the better.

This is a brief, poignant look at both personal and historical pain and what eases it. My girlie gravitates toward the emotionally rich–complex, even–and so I’m not saying that the average kid would necessarily fall in love with it; I’m also not saying that he or she wouldn’t. What I can say is that if you’re looking for an accessible novel about the Great Migration for middle graders, you can’t do much better than this one.

When I saw that Svetlana Chmakova’s newest graphic novel–The Weirn Books, Vol. 1: Be Wary of the Silent Woods–was a night creature sort of fantasy instead of a Berrybrook Middle School installment, I was surprised, disappointed (I do love the Berrybrook Middle School books!), and somewhat intrigued. Was it going to be like the Berrybrook books, except with magic? Was it going to be creepy (because it looked kind of creepy!)? Would I enjoy it as much as her realistic fiction? How about my girls?

The answers to those questions, respectively, are–sort of, sort of, yes, and it seems like it. (Conclusive, right?!) The world is certainly different, but so much about middle school age kids is universal; it felt really creepy at the beginning, ended up being less creepy than it seemed like it was going to be, but is still a certain level of creepy; it’s character-driven, adventurous, and universal enough to be just as enjoyable; and as for my girls? Well, one kept re-reading it until I told her I was TAKING IT BACK, and the other complained that “You could have told me it came out THIS YEAR and ended in a CLIFFHANGER!” (To which her sister replied that she didn’t think it was a cliffhanger. It was kind of a weird conversation.)

At the end of the day, this is a story about a mysterious house in the Silent Woods, a group of teenage friends (that could–minus the magic–be at my daughter’s school) who end up discovering why the woods are silent and find themselves in an epic battle with a disturbingly proper-looking villain, and–family. (In all its forms.) Given that my re-reading daughter doesn’t usually like fantasy (she bailed on Harry Potter partway into the second book), I’d say Be Wary of the Silent Woods should be a hit.

I just finished Kaeti Vandorn’s Crabapple Trouble, and while I totally applaud the message, the execution was really, really odd. The world didn’t work for me as well as it wanted to, for one thing–it’s peopled by people with human bodies but fruit/vegetable heads. Except that these people GROW the fruits or vegetables that their heads are shaped like, and their produce gets eaten like any produce, so there’s a weird vibe there. If you have a carrot head and you eat carrots…see what I mean?

As far as the story itself, the idea of overcoming anxiety by finding a way to participate that works for you is a great one. The development of that story, however, felt–choppy. The idea of ‘losing your head’ was introduced abruptly in a ‘well, THAT took quite a turn’ kind of way, and the subsequent events didn’t lead nearly as smoothly or coherently into the conclusion as they kind of needed to. I’m interested to see what my kiddos think, but for me, this one fell short.

I know, I should have posted on Wednesday, but I was too busy making pies. (And getting ready to go spend Thanksgiving with my in-laws–even packing for one night is an undertaking for a family of six!) Maybe I’ll get around to posting those pies later–although I’m not sure I did last year, come to think of it–but I finished Scary Stories for Young Foxes while we were up in Clearfield, and so I decided to do that review tonight.

I suppose I ought to acknowledge from the get-go that I wasn’t particularly excited to read this one, Newbery notwithstanding, because scary stories are really just not my thing. Oddly enough, it’s not because I find them frightening, for the most part–I’m more of a home-alone-in-the-dark-and-the-house-is-suspiciously-creaking kind of person when it comes to being scared–but because I don’t generally find them enjoyable. If the point is to be scared, but it’s a story and so I’m not all that scared, well…see what I mean?

I should have had more faith in the Newbery committee. While I would never have picked up Scary Stories if it hadn’t been a Newbery Honor book, I have to acknowledge that it was a spellbinding read. Mia and Uly were such real characters, and the way the author wove his threads together was masterful. It’s certainly not a book for the faint of heart–it takes place in nature, and nature is not a thing of sweetness and light–but it’s powerful. (A bit too powerful for a parent, in a way. It would have been a less heartwrenching read if I were the age of its intended audience.) I’m not going to give this one to my animal-loving girlie, because she doesn’t deal well with the realities of nature and animal consumption by other animals; my older girlie, however, might quite enjoy it. Either way, it deserved to win.*

And by the way–although gratitude should never be a ‘by the way’–I am grateful, for so very many things. I am richly blessed in family, I am safe and warm and as comfortable as one can be after a day or two of eating far too much, and I am watched over by a loving Heavenly Father and by my Savior Jesus Christ. My heart is full.

*If you have a minute, google Christian McKay Heidicker and listen to his Newbery acceptance speech. It definitely added to my reading experience.

I received a complimentary ARC of Melissa Savage’s Lemons an embarrassingly long time ago (remember how I’m STILL catching up?), and I actually listened to it months previously, but the copy I listened to came from a CD with a seriously scratched section and I felt like I’d missed bits that I didn’t want to miss. When it became available as an eaudiobook, then, I put it on hold; it took forever to come in, but when it did, I got the chance to listen to a fully audible edition. And–wow.

Let me say from the start that Bigfoot myths are not my thing–nor are UFOs, the Loch Ness Monster, etc., etc., etc. Savage did such a lovely job with the Bigfoot thread of the story, however, that I enjoyed it almost as much as I did the relationships involved. Tobin’s fierce approach to Bigfoot science is compelling, just as are Lem’s grief over her mother’s death, her longing for her old, familiar life, and her rocky adjustment to a new sort of family. Charlie, Debbie, Mrs. Dickerson, and the rest of Willow Creek are just the sort of people you wish could surround every grieving child, and Lem’s journey made me laugh AND cry. If you want a story about family, about friends, and about deep down love, this book is for you.

And hey–it’s also about Bigfoot.

I read Cynthia Rylant’s Rosetown aloud to my 11-year-old–we finished it last night–and it was the loveliest comfort read imaginable. It’s full of hometown love and a quiet kind of working out of the changes that have come to Flora’s life; her family’s old dog has died and her father has moved to a rental house, and fourth grade seems to be very different from third. She is moving towards a new friendship, however, and continuing to spend time in the places and with the things she loves, and–hmmm. It’s difficult to properly convey any more than that. If you remember your hometown with fondness, however, or have ever cherished a pet or loved a story, this little book is something to savor.

Also, my girlie really enjoyed it.