Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

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!

I’ve been putting off reading Nancy Farmer’s The House of the Scorpion for years, even though it’s a Newbery Honor book, because it’s Not My Thing. (Which is different from just not my thing–lowercase–because it’s a solid combination of two genres I actively avoid and a setting that holds no natural appeal for me. Many books aren’t really my thing while still being an enjoyable read for me, but others…) I avoid Sci-Fi unless it’s a great story that just happens to take place in a Sci-Fi setting, and as for Dystopian fiction, well–I generally loathe Dystopian fiction. Put those two genres together in the southwestern desert, and you’ve got a story that I have zero interest in reading. (A New England setting might tip the scales in favor of a book I was waffling about, but the southwestern desert? That’s a hard no.)

Unsurprisingly, then, I did not personally enjoy reading The House of the Scorpion. On the other hand, it’s an original premise, a captivating story, and a fairly wild ride. A country called Opium between the US and what was once Mexico? A drug lord/dictator in his 140s? Laws that establish human clones–grown in cows and then “harvested” at what would be birth–as livestock? A mass of workers called “eejits” whose human intelligence has been deadened to create mindless obedience? Not My Thing, certainly, but for readers of those genres that I don’t personally care for, an engrossing world; fans of Neal Shusterman, for one, seem likely to love it. (Even I admit to being held captive by the climax.)

There you have it, then. I get to check one more Newbery off of my list, and you get a conditional recommendation. A win-win! Now, please excuse me while I go revel in some historical fiction.

The end of Christmas vacation is always a bit of a shock to the system–suddenly it’s a school night, and we all have to be up and doing tomorrow morning. I’m not actually looking forward to that–I AM, however, looking forward to a quiet morning at home to tidy up without any further mess being made.

I’m also looking forward to only feeding two of us at lunch.

In the meantime, since my posts have been spotty at best over the last two weeks, I’ll echo the words of my Grandpa Mather–the Lord sure has been good to us. Here’s to a productive day tomorrow!

I was actually ready to post on the 29th–back to normal and everything–but we had no internet. As in, no internet AT ALL, meaning no home phone (no dial tone!) and no email. (This has happened for more than one long stretch of time in the last week, and it was really quite annoying.) The Comcast/Xfinity guy came yesterday morning, however, and so we are back in business. (Hallelujah!) On to my last book review of the year!

I mean to finish Planet Omar: Accidental Trouble Magnet before Christmas, since I was giving it to my 8-year-old as a gift; life happened, however, and so while I’d flipped through it thoroughly before Christmas morning, I didn’t actually finish it until a day or two afterwards. Luckily, finishing it just made me happier about giving it as a gift, because Omar is completely likable. Learning about day-to-day Muslim life from him was fun, and his interactions with his classmates and cousin felt real to me. (I guess I’m not an elementary school boy, though…) I’m really hoping that my son likes this book as much as I did, because there are sequels!

In the meantime, folks, happy new year tonight. I’m pretty sure we’re all looking forward to saying goodbye to 2020, so bring on 2021!