Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I read quite a lot of older books as a child.  L. M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Gene Stratton Porter–their writing styles were as comfortable and familiar to me as anything written during my lifetime, and reading books written in the late 19th and early 20th centuries is still a beautifully nostalgic thing for me.  (Provided, of course, that they’re written by the above sorts of authors rather than by, say, Thomas Hardy.)  Jean Webster’s Dear Enemy was just such a delightful trip back to the literary worlds of my childhood.  It’s more of a companion novel to her Daddy-Long-Legs than a true sequel, as it follows Judy’s college friend, Sallie MacBride, as she takes over the running of the John Grier Home; in between discharging the gardener, placing out children for fostering or adoption, and convincing anyone with the means to contribute to the JGH to do so, she works and spars with the young Scotch doctor who sees to the orphans, laughingly addressing him as ‘Dear Enemy’ in their professional correspondence.  (My apologies.  That was quite long enough for a sentence!)  The ending surprised me not one whit, but I so enjoyed the journey–Sallie as a narrator is a lovely combination of idealistic, determined, frustrated, and hilarious, and the world of her orphan home completely engrossed me.  If you have fond memories of reading those authors I listed above but haven’t read Jean Webster, you’re in for a treat.  And who doesn’t need a treat this time of year?

Is anyone really surprised that I ended up missing Halloween?  Because really, I’m not.  At least it’s a 31st/1st, so I won’t get as far behind!

Anyway.  Britt and I started listening to I’m Sorry…Love, Your Husband:  Honest, Hilarious Stories From a Father of Three Who Made All the Mistakes (and Made up for Them) while driving from RI to VT; we got through maybe 2/3 of it on our trip, and I just finished listening to the rest of it a day or two ago.  Parts of it were laugh-out-loud funny, parts of it weren’t as relatable to me personally, and parts of it left me shaking my head a bit.  And that’s expected, right?  Any sort of book of personal experiences is bound to have parts in each of those categories.  Clint Edwards’ book focused more on marriage learning experiences than parenting ones–although there were some of both–and I think I actually preferred Jim Gaffigan’s Dad is Fat because it focused on the parenting stories.  To me, every marriage is different, but kids–in so MANY respects–are universal.  That said, however, Edwards’ book was certainly entertaining.  I would have preferred less crudity of language from someone who specifically mentions his religious beliefs (he shares mine, and I know for a fact that language is something talked about), but the bits he mentioned about his childhood suggested possible reasons for those particular tendencies.  All in all, if the topic sounds decently interesting to you–as it did me–you’ll likely enjoy the book, like I did.*

*You’ll also enjoy Gaffigan’s book, so read that, too!

After the kiddos were in bed last night, I took the time to finish Surfside Girls:  The Secret of Danger Point, so I could review it today.  (Remember my graphic novel obsessed 10-year-old?  I can only hold her off for so long!)  It’s got stretches that are pretty light on text and a fluffier storyline, so it wasn’t a hardship; it was a fun, summer-themed mystery, with ghosts and a mysterious, dastardly land developer as well as an animal conservation angle.  This isn’t a Telgemeier or Jamieson–or a Shannon Hale–as far as depth goes, but the Nancy-Drew-meets-beach-story feel is going to appeal to its audience.  My only real complaint is the two girls’ swimsuits.  Maybe they’re realistic, yes, but MUST we put 12-year-olds into skimpy string bikini tops?  Could we please try NOT to sexualize our children?

Sigh.

At any rate, that detail aside, my older girls are going to enjoy this one–but it’s not what I’d call a must-read for adults.

It’s been several years since I read Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s The War That Saved My Life; it was a Newbery Honor book in 2016, and I was apparently keeping up with Newberys better then than I am now.  (Life happens.)  I flipped through it last year, however, when my oldest needed a novel about WWII, and I was wowed by it all over again.  I must have been in a critical state of mind when I reviewed it, because its writing style struck me as perfect for it this time around, and I was quite excited to read its sequel, The War I Finally Won.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Pardon me for the overused, modern adverb, but The War I Finally Won grows from its predecessor in an incredibly organic way.  (There’s just no way NOT to sound pretentious there.  Sorry!)  Ada’s continuing story makes perfect sense, as do her changing struggles and the varied hardships that life in wartime Britain brings.  Deaths, war work, illness, and new concepts and ideas assail her from all sides, but as a hard-won sense of self begins to emerge for her, Ada triumphs in ways that brought tears to my eyes.  If you haven’t read the beginning of Ada’s story, do it now–and then read her sequel as well.  Both books are incredibly worth it.

As in, drove in from Idaho (via Clearfield, where we ate and got a bit of energy out) at a quarter to 8.  It’s now 9:30, and I’ve unloaded what was left of the clean dishes in the dishwasher, loaded it up and started it, managed 20 minutes on the elliptical, and tucked in various children.  Not bad, right?

Really, I wasn’t going to post tonight, but we listened to Elana K. Arnold’s A Boy Called Bat on the way home today, and I decided it deserved a brief review before I returned the eaudiobook and then forgot about it as Halloween approaches at lightning speed.  It really was a nice little book about an autistic boy, his veterinarian mother, and his frequently frustrated sister, as they react to the entrance into their lives of a newborn skunk kit that needs the kind of care every newborn needs (read:  nigh constant).  Bat loves the skunk and hatches a plot to convince his mother to let him keep it; while that doesn’t pan out quite the way he hopes it will, it helps trigger a series of encounters that culminates in a social first for him–a good one.  I didn’t realize until I sat down to review it that it’s the start of a series, but as that knowledge cannot now be un-known, I imagine Arnold’s subsequent Bat books will be making an appearance on our library shelves…

In the meantime–long weekends tend to be short on sleep for everyone.  Goodnight!

I can still think of at least 3 books that I’ve finished but not reviewed; on the other hand, I’m planning on a family-oriented weekend and since it starts tomorrow (no school for end-of-term on Friday), I’ve got to get more sleep tonight than I’ve BEEN getting.  To that end–goodnight, folks.  I’ll do some extra reviews starting Monday, when our long weekend is over!

On one of our last trips to Idaho–perhaps the most recent one?–the kids and I listened to Andrew Clements’ The Landry News; the day I got back from my RI trip, I started listening to Gordon Korman’s The Unteachables.  Two different trips, two different authors, two different books, aimed at two different age groups.  And yet…

The Plot(s?):  Originally fantastic teacher is burned out and more or less ignoring his students until a spunky girl from a broken home–new to the school–ends up in his class and, while uniting the students, breaks through his barriers of burnout and provides a catalyst for his rebirth as a teacher.  Unfortunately, the principal wants the teacher gone (because hey, said teacher has been painfully apathetic for years) and, just as the rebirth process reaches its triumphant culmination, it also makes it possible for the principal to go after the teacher’s job.  Students and community rally–but can Mr. Teacher be saved?

Yes, that’s the plot of both books.  Clements’ offering was published almost 20 years ago for elementary schoolers, while Korman’s title was new this year for middle school students.  The spunky girl in Landry News has been angry in the past and channels that anger productively, while the Unteachables‘ girl is more of a ‘along for the ride and then can’t resist getting involved’ type.  In the earlier novel, the teacher’s burnout comes gradually; in the later, he’s hit by scandal and changes dramatically in the course of a single school year.  One story involves more than one personal grudge as well as a personal relationship rooted in nostalgia, while the other features a clash between concrete and creative thinking.  Ultimately however–same plot.

Here’s the thing.  The Landry News is the more realistic story; its characters are wholly believable, and the plot’s more gradual slope gave it a more organic feel.  The Unteachables is far more dramatic and far less likely; it actually felt a bit rushed to me, as if Korman was feeling the pressure to follow Restart with something equally as acclaimed and went for the easy emotional manipulation that a misfit-students-and-their-teacher story provides.  (Of course, I am easily emotionally manipulated by teacher stories, and so he still more or less succeeded.)  At the end of the day, however, both approaches worked, even if Korman’s was more of a stretch, and I enjoyed both books.  If one approach sounds more your style, go with that one; otherwise, both books are worth your time.

Just don’t read them both in the same two week period.

It happens whenever I listen to an audiobook narrated with a southern accent (at least, with a good one!), and there’s not a blessed thing I can do about it.  And thinking in a drawl for 12-24 hours, while certainly odd for a Utah resident, feels sort of traitorous when you were born and raised in one of the northern states.  On the other hand, the narrator for Sheila Turnage’s Mo & Dale mysteries is so incredibly good that the entire listening experience is delightful; sadly, The Law of Finders Keepers is billed as the last in Turnage’s quartet.

I’m feeling pretty mournful about that.

On the other hand, I did quite enjoy listening to it, and I’m doubly glad because I wasn’t quite sure about the beginning; it was feeling part more-of-the-same with the characters and part a-little-over-the-top with the pirate treasure angle.  As the plot progressed, however, the dynamic among the main (and supporting) characters shifted a bit as the Desperadoes move further into adolescence, and Turnage’s success in weaving that into the mystery made the book for me.  (I’m not saying that some of the treasure hunting adventures didn’t stretch believability a bit, but–eh.  Middle grade mysteries are bound to do some of that kind of stretching.)  There is definitely a mother theme in Finders Keepers, and unlike Little Fires Everywhere–which I listened to fairly recently–Turnage’s book identifies successfully what a good mother should be.  This was a satisfying ending to an excellent series, folks.  Don’t miss Mo and Dale’s search for Blackbeard’s treasure and Upstream Mother!

I finished listening to The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Riddle of Ages tonight, which means I’m done with the series–unless Trenton Lee Stewart decides to add to it ten more years down the road.  Who knows?  For now, however, I can pass Riddle of Ages along to my oldest and turn my attention to other things.  As for how I liked it, well–I think, tonight, you get a list review.  Because my food storage/guest room is beautifully cleaned up, 3.5 quarts of tomatoes have been blanched, peeled, cut, and frozen, and children have been taxied to all of their various activities for the day…and I’m poopered.

1.   I did enjoy this more than the prequel, but it feels a little unfair to compare the two.  In many ways, they’re different sorts of books entirely, whereas the four main Benedict books are the same sort.  Also, does a prequel count as part of a quintet, or is it a quartet with a prequel on the side?
2.   The different-because-the-kids-have-aged dynamic of the group was interesting.  Not badly done, either.
3.   To be honest, I wasn’t excited about Mr. Curtain and the Ten Men being the villains again.  That said, it wasn’t actually as annoying as I feared, due mostly to the different setup of the plot.
4.   I’m terribly glad that Stewart recognized the need to approach the Society’s conflict with McCracken differently this time.  He’s done all that can possibly be done (depending on my mood, I might say AND MORE!) with the Milligan-and/or-Kate-vs.-McCracken in an epic battle idea, and I was actually dreading having to go through it again.
5.   I liked the growth of the characters.  And the ending.

There you go, folks.  A must for series fans, although the series really must be read in order.  And for not-yet-fans who like the close-knit-kid-group-saving-the-world idea, the Benedict books are definitely for you!

When I received my ARE of Katherine Center’s Things You Save in a Fire, I was entering into the end-of-the-school-year busyness that every parent of elementary schoolers can sympathize with.  (The awards ceremonies!  The programs!  The recitals!  The EVERYTHING!)  By the time I made it out of the school year alive, however, we jumped into swimming lesson madness, and THEN there was only a brief hiatus before the JULY OF ALL THE TRIPS.  (I told Britt at one point that July was only about 6 seconds long, and she replied “Yes–and you spent all of them packing.”  SO true.)  And while life doesn’t necessarily seem like it’s slowed down ALL that much (sorry, this is also the post of all the caps), Center’s book became available in audio through my trusty county library system, and so I finally got to enjoy it.

And seriously–did I ever enjoy it.  First of all, if you can swing it, the audio is sheer pleasure if you’re an East Coast transplant and get sentimental at the sound of pretty much ANY New England accent.  (Props to the narrator, because she was awesome.)  Even if you stick with the hard copy, however, you won’t be disappointed.  Cassie’s voice is funny, poignant, and honest, and I liked the supporting cast as well.  There were a couple of descriptions of people that dipped into straight-out romance-y language, but Things You Save isn’t just fluff–it’s like a good pillow top mattress.  I need the pillowed top so that my muscles can relax and my edges don’t get sore, but the support underneath matters just as much.  It’s the combination that makes for a good night’s sleep…or a thoroughly enjoyable read.  This is a book about reconciliation and healing as much as about love, with a happy ending and an impressively rendered (read:  successfully but not explicitly) love scene.  If any of that sounds appealing to you, you’re pretty much guaranteed to like this book; it’s going with me on my next trip to Idaho so that my sister can borrow it.*

*Just borrow, though.  Sorry, Favorite Sister–you can’t keep this one!