Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

When my 9-year-old picked out Hamster Princess:  Harriet the Invincible at the library, I was skeptical.  Not only did it look young for her, it was pink and purple and sparkly and all but screamed “I’M REALLY GIRLY!”  at me.  I checked it out, however, and stashed it in my room to preview.

Doing so was an incredibly delightful surprise.

Harriet is a snarky, adventurous sort of princess, who despises her deportment lessons and receives news of her ‘Sleeping Beauty’ curse with glee.  If she can’t escape the curse, then the curse has to keep her alive until her twelfth birthday so that it can take effect, right?  Being invincible is all the excuse she needs to leave the castle and engage in all sorts of dangerous adventures, from ogre-fighting to cliff-jumping.  When her twelfth birthday comes around, however, the unexpected happens, and a new kind of adventure awaits Princess Harriet and Mumfrey, her trusty riding quail.

I got a serious kick out of this entire book.  It’s short and highly illustrated, making it a good fit for reluctant readers; it’s also almost unbelievably entertaining, and I love Harriet’s persistent argument that since she is a princess, anything she does must be considered princess-ly.  (Princess-y?  I’ve got a cold, and maybe that’s messing with my head, because the more I consider which one it ought to be, the more both of them look like nonsense.)  In short?  Even as my 9-year-old is panting with eagerness to get hold of this one, I’m looking forward to its sequel.

That says everything you need to know about this one.

I read Carl Hiaasen’s Hoot back when it was named a Newbery Honor book; when my oldest read it and liked it, I checked Chomp out of the library for her.  We both got quite the kick out of that one, which is why I checked out Scat (and thankfully found it on audio for myself).  I finished listening to it tonight–and since it’s getting late, you get a list of impressions for this review.

1.  Hiaasen is funny, with eccentric characters and not-always-believably crazy situations.
2.  He’s also passionate about Florida–and its flora and fauna.  His staunch environmentalism is unmistakable.
3.  Based on Nick’s dad’s experience in Iraq, Hiaasen’s not a big fan of that situation, either.
4.  He finds humanity in people with flaws, as well as a great deal of humor.
5.  His plots have certain predictable components:  characters living on the outskirts of society, often teaming up with more typical counterparts; an antagonist with no respect for wildlife or the environment; supporting characters who may or may not make choices consistent with their personal views on the situation; satisfying resolutions.
6.  Thus far, Hiaasen has reliably provided me with completely entertaining reads.  The man’s a literary good time.
7.  I imagine my oldest will want to read his most recent book after she finishes this one.

As for the plot–why did Mrs. Starch, feared Biology teacher, seemingly disappear after entering the Black Vine Swamp alone?  Is Duane Scrod–aka “Smoke”–an arsonist (or worse!) or just, well, more than a little rough around the edges?  Did Nick see a panther on their prematurely terminated field trip?  I could go on, but that should be enough to give you the gist.  If (you or) your child get a kick out of humorous mysteries, you’ve really got to read Carl Hiaasen.

I’m almost sure that normal people don’t look at their (and their children’s) library cards and try to arrange reading schedules in their heads so that there will be enough space available should all the holds on all the cards come in at once.  I’m also fairly certain that most people’s answer to this problem wouldn’t be to sign their 4-year-old up for her own library card.

I’ve never claimed to be normal.  Guess what I’m planning on doing this week?

I finished listening to Gitty Daneshvari’s School of Fear this morning, and I have to say, that book is seriously odd.  The premise–4 children with extreme phobias go off to a semi-secret school designed to cure children of such things–feels like it could go in a number of different directions.   What it ultimately becomes, however, is a sort of hybrid of Roald Dahl, “The Weakest Link”, and “Miss Congeniality”.

Sound weird?  Try reading it.

It’s the sort of book where the characters trade zingers back and forth and the absurd just keeps happening; it was wildly entertaining but not necessarily lovable for me, but I expect my 12-year-old to find it fabulous.  If you’re looking for a book that’s entertaining from the get-go, full of semi-likable (but not lovable) characters, and ends by setting up a sequel, look no further.  On the other hand, if you’re in the mood for predictable, well–this isn’t going to be your best choice.

When my oldest finally got around to reading Sheila Turnage’s Three Times Lucky–possibly more than two years after receiving it as a gift, mind you–she liked it enough to ask for the sequel.  (Imagine that!  Maybe that’s–just possibly–why I gave it to her in the first place?)  The Ghosts of Tupelo Landing has been sitting on my shelf ever since; thankfully, I finally realized that both books are available on audio from my library.  In the last week or so I’ve listened to both of them–I didn’t remember Lucky well enough to jump into the sequel without a review–and I tell you what, Turnage does not disappoint.  An antique inn with a bona fide ghost; a crotchety moonshiner and his elusive still; friendship, both vintage and recent; old money, new money, and everything in between; and through it all, Turnage’s lovely southern voice, her sharp insights into all sorts of relationships, and her delightful sense of humor.  If you haven’t met Mo, Dale, and Tupelo Landing, grab Three Times Lucky without delay.  If you didn’t realize it had sequels–you’re welcome!

Either way, happy reading.

I read Margi Preus’ Heart of a Samurai shortly after it was named a Newbery Honor book and found it captivating; when I read the description of West of the Moon, her 2014 novel, I was pretty much instantly sold.  Historical fiction inspired by an entry in the author’s great-great-grandmother’s diary?  Historical fiction blended with fairy tale?  Historical fiction about immigrating to America in the 19th century?  Sign me up!

Here’s the thing, though.  West of the Moon is most certainly captivating; there’s no denying that.  It’s also, however, more than just a little macabre.  The fate of the goatman, the truth about Spinning Girl, Astri’s dream (or was it a dream?!), Mor Kloster–this is a book that kept me reading, but also one that messed with my head.  (I was on the phone with my friend Andrea while I was reading it and I was talking about a bad dream I’d had; I started to read her the description of the book as a way to explain the probable inspiration of the dream and she interrupted me after the first sentence.  “I have READ this book!  And I had nightmares for days while I was reading it!”)  Realistically, old fairytales and folktales aren’t exactly made up of fluffy material, but the 19th century cultural traditions and common diseases referenced only added to the atmosphere.  This is a well-written, well-told story, and if you’re a fan of historical fiction and fairy tale re-tellings it’s most definitely worth your time, but–the dreams are a doozy, friends.  Be prepared.

Too tired to review the book I finished, sadly.  Next time!

In our newlywed years my hubby and I went through a “Lois & Clark” phase; his sisters had taped most of the episodes off of TV (back when VHS was king, you understand, and DVDs were just beginning to creep onto the scene), and what they hadn’t gotten, he managed to find online (because he’s cool that way).  While looking for missing episodes online, he also found a “Lois & Clark” novel and ordered it; I read it with gusto, but that was my only foray into the world of superhero novelizations.

Until now.

Because, hey, SHANNON HALE, I had The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl:  Squirrel Meets World checked out of the library to preview for my girlies when I stumbled upon a beautifully pristine copy at the dollar store and snatched it up.  Back went the library copy and onto my ‘I’m getting there!’ shelf went my lucky find, and there it sat until Elizabeth, the person (presumably) in charge of my county library’s monthly Goodreads challenges, went for a superhero theme in April.  Perfect, I thought.  It’s even available in audio!  Without further ado, I jumped into the Marvel universe in a whole new way–and I loved it.  Doreen Green–aka Squirrel Girl–is positive and nice and perky in a completely non-annoying way (which is quite a feat, really).  Her squirrel friends crack me up–especially some of their names–and her newest human friend is nicely characterized, right down to the socks and the Thor obsession.  My favorite part of the entire book, however, was NOT the battles with the Micromanager (although they were certainly entertaining in their own right), but the encounters, via text and otherwise, with various Avengers.  I haven’t seen all that many of the movies, being a live-in-moderation fan rather than a die-hard one, but that didn’t really matter.  (Well, seeing Guardians of the Galaxy might have helped.  I’ll work on that.)  Some of the texts threads were so fabulous that I thrust them at my husband and close friends, insisting that they HAD to read them–and their reactions did not disappoint.  If you’re into Marvel, or superheroes, or girl power in a fun, actually non-objectifying way (believe it or not!), pick up Squirrel Meets World.  You won’t be disappointed either.

I promise.

4YO:  I YUV you, Momma!  You are my favorite person in the whole world that’s a girl!

Me:  Aww, thank you Sweetie!   Who’s your favorite person that’s a boy?

4YO:  Daddy!  You and Daddy are my favorite girl and boy when you do the thing I like!

Me:  What about when we tell you things you don’t want to hear?

4YO:   Then you’re the WORST.

12YO, as I came in the door:  Mom, 9YO is sobbing over her book!

Me, upon heading downstairs:  Oh, Sweetie, what’s wrong?

9YO, looking at me with red eyes and a tragic face:  I don’t WANT Pippi to sail away on a boat!!!

Did you read Jean Webster’s Daddy-Long-Legs as a kid?  Because my mother did, and this is what baffles me.  I grew up reading all kinds of old classics from generations past–it was part of life at our house, I thought–and yet I didn’t realize that this existed until a few years ago.  It was published in 1912 (the year my father’s mother was born, I believe) and is still in print in more than one edition, which says a great deal about its lasting appeal.  Daddy-Long-Legs is a light, remarkably fast read, especially since the vast majority of it is made up of letters from the orphaned heroine to her mysterious benefactor, a unknown trustee at her orphanage who offered to pay her way through college.  The ending isn’t terribly difficult to see coming, but that didn’t lessen my enjoyment of it.  If you grew up loving books like An Old-Fashioned Girl, Freckles, and Anne of Green Gables, but somehow missed Webster’s book, this is a situation that should be rectified immediately.

I’m currently waiting for the sequel to come in at the library.