#TheList, No. 431: The Wind in the Willows

Kenneth Grahame's 1908 classic, The Wind in the Willows, tells the tale of four animal friends - Rat, Mole, Badger and Toad.  Toad is the reckless animal of the bunch - always coveting the latest trend whether it be horse drawn carriages or motor cars (note: this was written towards the end of the second industrial revolution).  His three friends worry that he will get himself into trouble with his impulsive behavior and, lo and behold, Toad is caught stealing a car and thrown into jail for 20 years. He escapes and after indulging himself once again with irrational behavior, teams up with his friends to reclaim his old home from the animals who have overtaken it.

If a middle or high school student asked me for a nostalgia-based book they could incorporate into a history/literature project, I would say "you got it dude" and hand them The Wind in the Willows. 

Looking for a riveting read? I would tell them to look elsewhere.


In terms of its historical significance and reflection of people resistant to change, it's a great read. Toad stands for the new and exciting industrial age, while his friends represent the fondness for a simpler time.  While I may find it boring to read through (and some agree and many disagree), I really do appreciate the symbolic aspects of the story.  For me, the analysis of the characters and action is more entertaining than the actual story. Plus, who doesn't love anthropomorpized animals?

#TheList, Nos. 696 and 708: A Series of Unfortunate Events

The Series of Unfortunate Events is a 13 part series that follows the miserable adventures of the three Baudelaire children. The children, orphans after losing their parents to a tragic fire, must protect themselves and their family fortune from Count Olaf, a distant relative, and his henchmen. Often caught in terrifying death traps, the children must escape using Violet's inventing skills, Klaus' thirst for knowledge, and Sunny's surprisingly sharp teeth. Despite the dangers the characters find themselves in, the books are packed with dark humor and word play, making them exciting and suspenseful reads. 

I read the first book in The Series of Unfortunate Events as a child after receiving it as a gift. My uncle told me I needed to read something other than Harry Potter (he also gave me The Golden Compass). I thought it was incredibly funny and unlike anything I had read before.  But for some strange reason, I never kept up with the series (I was probably too caught up with Harry Potter, let's be honest). Recently, I read a discussion of the series as a whole. It confirmed what I had imagined, that the series, while humorous and innovative, was formulaic in it's approach. However, it mentioned how the books took darker turns and added a great conspiracy midway through the series.  That was enough to make me pick them back up.

The Bad Beginning (No. 696), the first in the series, introduces the Baudelaires with their back story and their first major misadventure. The narrator immediately tells the reader that this is not a happy story. If you want a happy story, close the book and find something else.  Actually, this sentiment is expressed time and time again throughout the series. The narrator goes to great lengths - for example, attempting to bore the reader with the process of water evaporation - to prevent the reader from reading about the many tragedies the Baudelaires face.  Repeatedly shattering that fourth wall with warnings only entices the readers to continue turning pages. Everyone knows that if you tell someone not to do something, it only increases that person's interest.

The author also makes a great effort to define new vocabulary, one of my favorite aspects of the series.  There's absolutely no shying away from challenging words or phrases that readers may not have encountered in previous reading selections. Instead, the words or phrases are defined, examples are supplied, and then it is constantly brought back into the context of the story at hand.

The Vile Village (No. 708), the seventh book, is where the series begins to take darker turns.  Up until now, the Baudelaires have been fairly innocent in their escapes from horrible henchmen.  But this book leaves the Baudelaires falsely accused of murder and on the run from the police.  They must follow a conspiracy-based quest established in an earlier book, leaving running from the law as their only option.  Now that they are on the run, they continue to break the law in order to protect themselves and bring their adventures to an end.

Time after time, the three children escape death and/or capture without the assistance of an adult. When they try to seek adult help, they're often ignored or dismissed as having childish notions. But the Baudelaires frequently catch on to plots and Count Olaf's disguises before adults. Why? Because children often don't get the credit they deserve.  Many adults are depicted in a buffoonish manner to further highlight the children's potential. The series serves as an affirmation of the power of children. Even if the books become repetitive as the series progresses, that message is always prevalent.

#TheList, No. 802: Lord of the Flies

When I was in the ninth grade, almost all of my friends were reading Lord of the Flies in English class as their first reading selection.  Not my class; we were reading A Separate Peace.  At the end of the year, my teacher confessed that we didn't read Lord of the Flies because a) she hated it; and b) she believes that starting with the most boring novel in the world is a good way to let her students know that her class will not be a walk in the park.  She was my favorite teacher for a reason.

After a plane crashes on an uninhabited island, a group of young boys must figure out how to survive without the adult supervision to which they are accustomed. There is an initial attempt to maintain order: electing a chief, establishing conduct rules for meetings, and organizing themselves into hunters and builders. Eventually the structure breaks down as the boys' primitive nature begins to emerge. Their remote existence encourages power struggles, bullying, and deadly violence.

It wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but I can understand and appreciate it's significance. The symbolic presence of democracy (the conch and their meetings), the metamorphosis from a civilized to natural state, and the contrast of rational thought versus irrational instincts are all concepts that are explored thoroughly in this tale of survival (and make great essay topics).  The power struggles are foreshadowed almost immediately, which can make for some tense reading when you just know something horrible is about to happen.  The allegorical characters and their actions elicit both sympathy and apathy from the reader, which makes for a rapid emotional changes as the reader moves along with the story. 

Because the YA world is overrun by dystopias, I would align Lord of the Flies with Michael Grant's Gone series due to their similar themes.  In Gone, everyone over the age of 15 disappears simultaneously, leaving the children to fend for themselves. Naturally, there are power struggles and violence as the children try to figure out what is happening. While the series falls more into the sci-fi/supernatural genres, the adventure, survival, and power structure elements are great parallels to the high school English class standard that is Lord of the Flies.

#TheList, No. 811: The Witch of Blackbird Pond

I've abandoned my randomly generated list in order to tackle some of the more Halloween-y appropriate books this month.  Last week was Violet Park's Me, the Missing, and the Dead.  This week, I revisited one of my favorite books I read for class in the fifth grade: Elizabeth George Speare's Newbery Medal-winning novel, The Witch of Blackbird Pond.

After her grandfather's death, Kit Tyler, sails from Barbados to Connecticut to live with her only living family members.  While Kit knows she will be welcomed into the family, she does not anticipate the strict religious beliefs governing every move in her new Puritanical home. Kit struggles to adjust to the Puritan lifestyle while maintaining her own beliefs. Her often unconventional behavior immediately arouses suspicion throughout the town and it is only made worse when she befriends a Quaker woman whom many believe to be a witch. 

There's a lot to work with in this piece of historical fiction: the value of hard work, the pressure to adapt to change, the right to education, the right to independent beliefs, the need to accept others with varying viewpoints, etc. My favorite is how the strength of women is explored in both positive and negative lights. Kit is a positive force - resisting conformity through charitable actions for those deemed unworthy. The "witch," Kit's family, and Prudence are also positive reflections of women's strength. But throughout the novel "women's talk" is used as a weapon against those who are different. It saturates the town and becomes powerful enough to drive a woman into hiding and bring another to trial. It's a realistic portrayal of the fanaticism that really existed during the witch trials and it's interesting to contrast it to the actions of the other positive female characters in the novel.

A few of the students have seen me with this book and have exclaimed that it's one of their favorites. That makes me happy.  Sure, the ending might be a little too happy than realistic, but it's still a great way to introduce children to the actual events of that time period. 

#TheList, No. 1001: Finding Violet Park

Through a strange turn of events, teenager Lucas Swain gains possession of an abandoned urn containing the ashes of a Violet Park. While researching Violet, Lucas unknowingly begins to call up his father's mysterious past. Lucas' father disappeared five years ago.  No one knows where or why he ran away, or if he ran away at all. Lucas is frozen in time, clutching onto his father's belongings because he doesn't have the memories to sustain him.  His research, however, finally allows Lucas an out, as he learns that "dead" doesn't just have to be a physical condition.  

Finding Violet Park, by Jenny Valentine, was originally published in London. It was later republished in America as Me, the Missing, and the Dead, which is the title I picked up and, after finishing the book, that I prefer. I don't know if I would have picked up this book if it weren't on The List, but I'm glad I read it. I enjoyed the various perspectives of the missing and the dead. Dead doesn't have to mean "dead" if that person's memory and life remain with you. On the other hand, missing can can equate with dead - Lucas' father is gone and no longer a worthy part of his life. Lucas' actions at the close of the book confirm his feelings on this matter. The newer title creates three categories that, throughout the course of the novel, Lucas realizes can all be intertwined depending on his actions. For five years, he's been missing his life, instead clinging on to what is no longer present. Finding Violet Park is just a small piece of the puzzle that leads him to eventual catharsis. 

The novel contains dark humor (for instance, Lucas provides a list of good reasons to make friends with a dead lady in an urn), realistic portrayals of family and extended family, and an interesting mystery to carry forth the discussion of what it means to be dead or missing.  It'd be an interesting choice to include in a Halloween display as it's spooky in a nontraditional sense.  

#TheList, No. 909: Madame Doubtfire

Guess who didn't know that the 1993 movie Mrs. Doubtfire was based on a children's novel? Me. I feel left out of the loop.

We know the story: parents divorce and put their children in the middle of their many bitter arguments involving custody arrangements. The mother doesn't want to give the father more time with the children. To get his deserved time, the father comes up with the inspired idea to dress up like a woman and apply to be the housekeeper/nanny. Then it all blows up in his face and he's left fighting to prove that his actions make him a great, caring father.

That all translated to the movie.  But the book has many dark moments that didn't quite make it into the movie (in my recollection). For starters, the fights between the parents are intense, lengthy, and at times, downright cruel. The fights about the children often lead to arguments with the children, the father taking no pause to place blame on the children for his predicaments.  Then there are the instances when the father daydreams and/or mimes about killing his ex-wife...in front of the children. For example: when he inspires himself to clean by imagining he's mopping up his ex's blood. Big ol' yikes.  It's made clear that they aren't the portrait of a happy go lucky family.

I wasn't a fan of the novel; the father's violent tendencies really disagreed with me. However, I respect that it didn't try to Parent Trap the divorced couple.  The book isn't about bringing them back together; it's about realistically (minus the cross-dressing) depicting what it's like for children of divorced families and how parents need to readjust with their children's interests as the big picture.

One last thing. Let's take a minute and examine the book cover for the edition I read:

It's a little blurry, but it looks like Adam Sandler in drag. So I'm fairly certain that this cover foreshadowed Jack and Jill.

#TheList, No. 179: The Jungle Book/ No. 730: The Graveyard Book

I had never read The Jungle Book before last week and I still have yet to see the Disney movie (I do know the "Bare Necessities" though).   Going into the book, I only knew that the two were markedly different, Disney having deemed the book version too dark for the animated movie. Other than that, I was clueless.

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it because I do approach the "classics" a bit begrudgingly.  But when you read them on your own and not in the confines of school, they are more enjoyable.  Anyway, I enjoyed it! A collection of stories featuring anthropomorphized animals to spell out morals.  They're entertaining, easy to follow, and can be read apart from each other (although the Mowgli-centric tales rely on each other to an extent).

I was incredibly surprised by "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," the story about a brave mongoose protecting his human family from cobras.  Way back in 2nd and 4th grade, I watched an animated version of this story. Every now and then I would flashback to it and want to know what it was called, but would always get distracted and forget to look it up.  Now I know it's from The Jungle Book and I am in awe.  

The chapters are pretty long for storytelling, but I think a great children's librarian could make it work.  If anything, it could be a great theme for a long-running program complete with an amazing bulletin board that kids could help design.  Maybe the kids could come up with their own modernized versions of the morals.

That being said, Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book is inspired by Kipling's work.  I knew this ahead of time, which is why I read The Jungle Book first.  It's not necessary to do so, but it is nice to see where the two works connect and it's a great tidbit to tell patrons if they ever check out The Graveyard Book.  Sidenote: a huge part of what I do is making sure that someone has read the beginnings of series or is aware of related materials.  A lot of times children or teens pick up something that looks cool or is on the "New Books" shelve without realizing that there are other parts to read first.

Unlike The Jungle Book, The Graveyard Book doesn't work in pieces.  It has a narrative that runs throughout, with a clear beginning and end. It does, however, explore the same morals of family and protection that are found in Kipling's work.  In this book, a young boy's family is murdered and the ghosts of a nearby graveyard take in the live baby to protect him.  We follow "Nobody's" growth in the graveyard, the lessons he learns from his ghostly protectors, the friendships he acquires, and the help he tries, with various success, to give to both the live and dead.  It has Gaiman's signature dark twists, but the core of the novel is quite similar to The Jungle Book.  

I would highly recommend it to readers/fans of The Jungle Book, provided they were able to handle the darkness, i.e. children having The Jungle Book read aloud to them probably aren't ready for the Gaiman version.  

#TheList, No. 434: The Secret Garden

I've gotten away from #TheList for awhile in order to play some much needed catch-up with more recent titles.  But this past week, I made use of the free books on iBooks and finally read The Secret Garden, by F. Hodgson Burnett.

Old-fashioned racism aside, I enjoyed the tale of the young orphan Mary growing out of her spoiled bratty ways alongside a garden (symbolism!).  After the death of her parents, Mary moves from India to England to live with her emotionally distant uncle (played by Mandy Patinkin in the Broadway musical version!) - a hunchback so heartbroken over the death of his wife, that he forbids anyone to open her garden and also refuses to spend time with his sickly son.  This book really brings out the happiness.  Anyway, Mary of course stumbles upon the garden. With the help of her new-found friends, is able to bring life to the garden, the sickly son, and herself.

The Secret Garden is definitely a novel you have to approach through the eyes of a child, otherwise it just seems kind of bland and full of forced enthusiasm.  But through the eyes of a child, it's obvious how the uncovering of a secret garden and the use of "Magic" to revitalize said garden (and people) is wondrous.

Now about the racism.  Cracked covers it in more detail, though I disagree that the book is "secretly" racist. It was pretty clear from the get go to me.  I think even children (today's children) would pick up on it rather fast, especially with this quote:

 "a lot of blacks there instead of respectable white people."

Yikes!

Now, if you were using this book as a school lesson or library activity (though I think it's best used as a read aloud at home or for a college paper on children's lit), the obvious activity is to make your own secret garden.  Either real or in diorama form.

#TheList, No. 551: The Wolves of Willoughby Chase

A 5th grader asked me for a "bunch of suggestions" on what to read over winter break.  So we walked around the fiction section picking out books at leisure and talked about them until she had a sizeable pile.  It was a slow day in the library, I wish that this was a daily occurrence.  It would be heavenly.  During our stroll through amazing books, she grabbed Joan Aiken's The Wolves of Willoughby Chase and told me it was one of her favorites.  She talked about 55 mph about it so I promised her I would check it out over the winter break.

I felt guilty that I didn't like it as much as she so obviously did, but I can see the appeal: adventure, good vs. evil, smart, brave children, fantastical good relationships between the rich and the help, and, my favorite, symbolism!

A pair of cousins, with the help of friends (servants), take down their evil governess and her scheme to take over the family's estate and create a school for the elite in order to steal their money. Also, there are wolves all over the place. The book starts off as (for me at least) a bit of a snoozefest. Once the parents are removed, the plot considerably picks up pace.

It makes sense, of course, that that is where the book picks up.  The first rule of children's lit is "kill the parents."  With parents around, there are rules and expectations.  Once they're gone, the children can have adventures.  What's interesting about this book is that the opposite occurs.  The parents, particularly the father, is all about the fun.  He encourages his daughter, Bonnie, to be a rambunctious brat.  Once he's gone, the governess imparts strict rules upon Bonnie and her cousin, Sylvia.  Twist!

Oddly enough, it's these rules that allow the adventure to begin.  The girls rebel against the governess, get sent to an evil orphanage, escape, and take down the evil woman.  All with many compliments to each other for such smarts.  On top of this,

Not my favorite of children's lit, but the symbolic value of the wolves gets it some more points (the governess and her evil partners are like the wolves!).   I'd label the book as historical fiction and would definitely recommend this to a child who likes classics (like the girl who loves it so much).

#TheList, No. 904: The Ruby in the Smoke

First off, Happy New Year!! (or Happy No Year if you're a Friends fan).

Now, The Ruby in the Smoke, by Phillip Pullman.  I enjoyed it well enough, but I'm fuzzy on the details of the plot.  Allow me to paint a picture of my experience reading this novel.

I was flying to Virginia and had to make a connecting flight in Newark.  After my first flight out of Boston was delayed three times, I was actually delighted to be in the worst place in the US.  But then my connecting flight was delayed and delayed and delayed and finally canceled.

I feel ya.

Long story short, I spent 17 hours in the Newark airport, going almost 35 hours without sleep.  I read three books and listened to two iPods until they died (yes, I carry a backup iPod sometimes...).  But then someone incredibly awesome drove from VA to NJ and saved me and the rest of vacation was relaxing.

But The Ruby in the Smoke was the last book I read as I approached 30 hours of no sleep.  While I read this book, a seagull flew over my head.  I was inside the terminal.  Later, a pigeon stopped by.  Then a sparrow. Obviously, I was distracted as I read this novel.

From what I recall, in this mystery adventure, Ms. Sally Lockhart's father had died and she receives a somewhat cryptic message that leads her to find out secrets of her father's life.  During this adventure, she displays ridiculous amounts of business savvy, love for her pistol, and a sense of incredible calmness.  I think she's also 12.

But I liked it for some obvious reasons.  The lead is a young girl who knows how to take care of herself.  There's a mystery at hand.  The novel is historical fiction.  There's some humor, a little violence, and a pretty good ending (if I am remembering correctly).  With all of the novels for children and teens being released with strong female leads (or female leads in the case of Twilight), this a good book to fall back upon if those newer books are unavailable or already read.  Plus, the kids might find the author familiar if they enjoyed The Golden Compass series.

#TheList, No. 495: The Twenty-One Balloons

If I wanted to give an honest description of this book, I would say: Picture the movie Up, but put the sad montage near the end and subtract the dog.

The Twenty-One Balloons: A man who just wants to be left alone and get some peace and quiet decides to take a balloon trip for a year.  His plans go astray thanks to a sharp beaked gull, and he ends up across the world in a record 40 days.  The entire country is freaking out about this, including the President, and they can't wait to hear his story (this was before Twitter).  A press conference is held in San Francisco, and he tells the tale of his incredible journey.  

It is great.  Written in 1947 by William Pene du Bois and apparently very similar to F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story, The Diamond as Big as the Ritz, an eerie similarity that is referenced in an author's note prior to the novel.  It's suitable for all elementary school ages, either as a read-aloud for those tots who don't quite have a grasp on multiple syllables, or as an independent read.  The story is adventurous, humorous, and all about the descriptions.  Semi-spoiler: he lands on a secretly inhabited island and all of the colony's inventions are described in detail.  ALL of them.

But I'd definitely put this out there as part of a movie/book display. If I was feeling really ambitious, I would make it a Disney themed display (kids LOVE Disney) and pair books with all of the movie and TV show hits.  Plunk this one right next to Up. Enjoy.  

#TheList, No. 703: Cirque du Freak: A Living Nightmare

Here's the gist of the story: There's a boy, Darren, and he's telling the reader his story.  He likes spiders.  Like isn't a strong enough word.  He enjoys spiders so much that he decides to steal a super poisonous one from a vampire.  Alright, that sounds like it could get interesting.  He finds this vampire at Cirque de Freak, an illegal freakshow that of course he has to attend.  The remainder of the book (and the entire series, I presume), deals with the consequences of his actions.  What if he hadn't gone to the show? What if he left while he still had a chance? What if he, you know, HADN'T STOLEN A SPIDER FROM A VAMPIRE?  Ah the little choices that we make as kids and grapple with all the time when we're adults.

The plot is interesting and I'm sure the rest of the series is as well.  There's suspense, a circus of "freaks," a vampire, different takes on vampire mythology, and spiders.  But I'll be honest; I was not a fan of this book.  However, I think if about half of the exclamation points were removed, I would give it another shot.  Seriously, it felt like every other sentence was pocked with an exclamation point. Maybe it's intended to sound like a child excitedly shouting his story at you, you know in that way that only a five year old who's talking about taking in the mail can accomplish.  But to me, it just makes events that should be dark and spooky, more like a fun pony ride.  "I saw the coffin!...I was scared!...I couldn't believe it!"  Those aren't actually quotes, but they could be.

Punctuation problems aside, I think 5th and 6th graders would really enjoy this book/series.  To be stereotypical for a moment, it has all the elements that would get a boy to pick up a book.  Okay, stereotypical moment complete.  This book is also excellent to recommend to children interested in vampires, but whom you want to keep away from Twilight.

#TheList: No. 664; Maniac Magee

Aside from Maniac Magee, the only Spinelli book I've ever read is Stargirl, which might be one of my favorite young adult novels that I randomly happened upon in my youth.  I didn't really like Maniac Magee as much, but I definitely see why it's a beloved book of many, including one of my students who walked by as I was reading it and started gushing about how much she loved the book.

Like Stargirl, Maniac Magee features a main character who changes a town with his eccentricities.  The town is in awe of his legendary status (one-handedly catching and kicking a football, bunting a frog for a home run, etc.), placing him on a metaphorical pedestal, until it comes crashing down thanks to the town's racial divisiveness. 

Magee is blind to race, much like Stephen Colbert.  His interactions between the black East Enders and the white West Enders results in strife for those residents who are against mixing and don't understand how the other side lives.  It's an interesting examination of racial struggle as seen through the life of this bizarre boy legend. 

The book also examines homelessness, as the orphan Magee comes to the town after running away (literally) from his aunt and uncle, and struggles to find a permanent place to live.  It contributes to the racial themes of the book, posing the question of belongingness. 

I enjoyed the first two parts of the novel, but the third part seemed a little forced to me.  I still enjoyed the book as a whole, and there's no question why so many elementary school teachers feature this novel in their lessons each year. 

#TheList No. 697: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Unless you've been living under a rock, you most likely know that J.K. Rowling's first novel purposely for adults, The Casual Vacancy, came out last week.  I started it yesterday, it's very different from HP and I really like it so far.  To get prepped for the new Rowling book, I decided to skip ahead on the List, and go for my favorite Harry Potter book.

The Prisoner of Azkaban is usually everyone's favorite of the series.  Whether it's the new information about the death of Harry's parents, the introduction of the Marauder's Map, or simply Sirius Black's amazing entrance, it's one of the most revered of the HP world.  What's interesting is that the movie version of this book was the least successful financially.  It doesn't make sense because look at that picture of Gary Oldman as Sirius.  Siriusly, guys? Have you seen this wizard? Yes I just made that bad joke. Moving on.

Rereading Azkaban, I noticed that there is still a lot of explication of previously introduced concepts.  The whole, "you see, Harry isn't like other boys. He's a wizard" concept is still evident (I paraphrased there, obviously) and that can drag the book for a tiny bit because we already know this information.  Forgetting the scoring system of a Quidditch match? Maybe. Forgetting that Harry is a wizard? Not going to happen.

But that aside, the book is incredible.  It is fast paced, funny, moving, and filled with adventure, friendship, and consequences.  And, of course, magic.  In case you forgot.  The lessons the trio learns about second chances (time-turner business), different outlooks (Malfoy's view of Hagrid and Lupin vs. the trio's view), and skewed histories (Snape's account of James saving his life vs. Lupin's account) are often implicit, which gives levels to the reading experience.  The books aren't about magic.  The books are about these lessons. Magic is just something they know how to do.

#TheList, No. 591: Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH

As I mentioned before, I decided to reread Robert C. O'Brien's Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH in order to rejuvenate my compassion for little critters.  It didn't work.  But I still loved this book.

Mrs. Frisby is a mother mouse and her youngest son, Timothy is very ill.  So ill that he can't possibly make the move to their winter home.  What to do, what to do?  With some guidance from other field animals (a crow and an owl), Mrs. Frisby turns to the rats for some help.  During her quest, she learns about the rats' mysterious past: being scientifically enhanced in order to learn at an incredible speed and significantly slow down the aging process.

As a result, they are super rats and that thought scares me.  They claim they aren't evil and are even carrying out a "Plan" to clear their negative image (they don't like terms like "rat race), but I kept removing myself from this imagined world and freaking out about the possibility that rats were going to march through my front door.  NO THANK YOU.

Aside from that horrifying image (that and the prospect of rats and mice teaming together to take over the world), the book is great for children, I'd say ages 9-11 years.  I myself read this book in the fourth grade.  As a project, I made the BEST board game ever.  It followed Mrs. Frisby's path to her new home and had a bunch of obstacles and cards and really cute game pieces.  I spent hours on it and I didn't cheat like some people and just cover up the spaces on the Mouse Trap game.

Anyway, why is this book great?  It's not dumbed down at all for its readers.  O'Brien is unafraid to use phrases his intended audience won't be familiar with.  Instead, he incorporates the meanings into the characters' speech.  For instance, the owl tells Mrs. Frisby to go to the lee side of the stone.  Despite not knowing  what that is, she agrees.  A couple pages later, she asks the crow and he explains.  This is reassuring to a young reader, because now s/he is on the same level as Mrs. Frisby.

All in all, it's a great book to read and will cause you to empathize with the anthropomorphized rodents...just not real ones.

#TheList, No. 461: Ballet Shoes

Noel Streatfeild's novel about three young orphans pursuing ballet in order to earn money for their makeshift family is charming.  That's the best word I can think of to describe this book.  I think young girls around the 4th-6th grade will love it, even if they don't care for ballet (like me).  Yes, I was sexist and classified this as a "girl book." I'm sorry. 

Three young girls, Pauline, Petrova and Posy, all join a Dance Academy so that they can train and eventually earn money.  One actually enjoys dance, one prefers acting, and one grimaces and bears it while dreaming of working on engines.  I wish there was more focus on the engine story.  Her hatred of the arts is more of the focus, but Streatfeild does not delve into her actual interests enough for my taste.  I always enjoy a good rebel.  But her willingness to push through her discomfort is moving, and emphasizes the family values in this story. 

Some readers may find various parts of the book to be very tedious.  There are many, many, many lists of all the tasks the girls perform each day.  This includes what they wear and when, what they learn in classes, what they eat, etc. It's specific and helpful for visualizing, but only to a point.  It gets very repetitive and drags the story along. 

There's also a movie version of this book that stars Hermione Granger Emma Watson.  I haven't watched it just yet, but I trust her acting abilities (especially after seeing the Perks of Being a Wallflower trailer) so I do think I'll look into it. 

If I ever had to make a program surrounding this book, I'd have to go with any combination of the following:
-ballet/dance lesson
-designing your own tutu competition
-movie viewing
-Shakespeare lesson
-exercise program

 

#TheList, No 648: The Snow Spider

I have a problem. I'm heavily devoted to Harry Potter.  Actually, it's not a problem. It's a standard.  When I read any book/series with a plot that relies on a child coming into his magical powers, I can't help but hold it up to HP.  I can't speak for the rest of the trilogy, but to me, The Snow Spider failed...miserably.

The gist of Jenny Nimmo's book is a young boy goes on a quest both to find out if he inherited his ancestors power and to locate his missing older sister.  There's a lot of familial strife in the story, obviously with the hole in the family from the sister's absence, but also because the parents' lack of magical skills distances them from their son's attempt to practice magic.

If you follow the Hero's Quest or the Monomyth, you'll find the "wise old man" who guides the hero throughout the journey (i.e. Obi Wan Kenobi, Dumbledore, etc. etc.).  So in this book, when the grandmother gives our little magician, Gwyn, five unusual birthday gifts to see if he has inherited the magical powers of their ancestors, I figure, okay here's our wise old [wo]man.  The feminist in me smiled.

But she gives Gwyn NO guidance.  Instead, she says (I'm paraphrasing) "figure it out yourself, I'm going to go dance and be that relative that you think is drunk at parties, but is really just crazy."  When Gwyn makes a (fairly horrible) mistake, she actually gets angry with him for failing and places guilt on his shoulders.  There's a difference between withholding information and waiting until the right time to teach someone (a la Dumbledore).  I don't know if she smartens up in the remainder of the story, but there was a significant disconnect between me, the reader, and this character I assumed would be the one to voice the specifics about this setting.

About halfway through the book, Gwyn's parents undergo abrupt character changes.  While I liked that this added some complexity to the family unit, for a children's book that I was already having issues with (she puts the grrrr in grandmother), I felt like the abrupt changes were throwing the book into disarray and weren't emphasized enough to be used to develop the characters.

But that's just my opinion.  The book (which pre-dates HP by about 10 years), has won some awards so it definitely has an audience and is doing something right.  But in a world with HP (yay), I think it can be replaced.

#TheList, No. 256: Ramona the Pest

Now, I read books in a cycle: Adult, Young Adult, Children's, Memoir.  Or I try to at least.  Sometimes the cycle changes due to how much room I have in my bag that day (yes, here is where my refusal to get an e-reader comes to kick me in the butt).  So I grabbed a random Ramona book off of my shelf to put me in a good mood.  I happened to pick the one that is featured on The List: Ramona the Pest, number 2 in the 8 book series. 

In this book, Ramona starts kindergarten and has to deal with learning what behaviors are appropriate at home vs. at school, how she can't be the center of attention all the time, and how to read and write, all why still being herself.  It's a lot of responsibility for a five year old to take on.  Cleary is able to get this serious 5 year old business across while maintaining a great deal of humor.  For instance, when Ramona is learning the National Anthem, she mistakes "the dawn's early light" for "dawnzer lee light," and thinks she's figured out that lamps are called dawnzers.  It's a joke that's sprinkled throughout the book until she's finally corrected by her family's laughter. 

Kids reading this will recognize how she feels because they're most likely going through the same troubles themselves, or they remember when they made such mistakes.  Adults reading this to children (or themselves...) will laugh because it's written convincingly in a determined 5 year old voice. In any other point of view, Ramona would, indeed, seem like the world's largest pest.  Plus they remember making those mistakes as well.  Case in point: Grease was my favorite movie in 3rd grade and I thought that Rizzo cut class when she said she "skipped a period." I didn't put two and two together until a few years ago. 

Oh Beverly Cleary. You created one of my favorite children's literature characters of all time. Not only did you do that, but you put her into a realistic and humorous (humorously realistic?) series. Adults love it (Exhibit A: me) and kids understand it (Exhibit B: me as a kid).  Not only is Ramona is a well-written account of how many children think and act, but you wrote a working mother into the story and a father losing his job, which was such a rare thing to see in a children's book in the 60s, but a realistic fact of life.  For that, I thank you.

Ramona has been a character since 1955.  Since then, the books have been republished numerous times with different covers to appeal to different generations.  One of my favorite things to do is compare covers so here we go (the dates may be off, I'm relying on the Internet, and we all know that's a mistake):

1968

1968

1979 or 1982

1992

2000

2009

Audio

The audio book is apparently read by Stockard Channing, which made me laugh for about 5 minutes just now, because she's the actress who played Rizzo in Grease.  So this entry just ended perfectly.

#TheList. No. 200: Mr. Popper's Penguins

Look at this:

 

Now this:

And this lil' guy:

 

I LOVE PENGUINS.  So it should come as no surprise that I loved reading Mr. Popper's Penguins while on the elliptical at the gym the other day.  What might be a surprise is that it was the first time I had ever read this children's book.  I know, I'm shocked too.

A synopsis for those who also have never encountered Mr. Popper, or a refresher for the many who have:  Mr. Popper is a house painter who loves reading about the Arctic or the Antarctic.  One day, an admiral on a South Pole expedition responds to the equivalent of a fan letter by sending along a penguin. From there, the Poppers acquire a penguin family and while that's incredibly fun in ways, they need to figure out a way to financially keep these penguins and the family afloat.  

 

What struck me immediately was how well this book would work for either reading to a child or a child reading it on their own.  The story is broken down into 20 short, illustrated chapters.  The language lends itself to vivid images, which is necessary for read-alouds, but it's not too daunting for a young reader who wants to tackle a book on her own.  It's captivating, amusing, and well-written. 

The only thing that irked me about this book was the description of Mr. Popper being absentminded because he was always daydreaming about other countries.  This absentmindedness comes into play in the ending, but there's a large span of story where he seems to be the most together person trying to walk a penguin on a leash.  For a younger audience, they may not remember that aspect of his character.  They also might not care, but it irked me at least.  

This book offers a wide variety of active and passive programming ideas.  First up, movie night! There's a Jim Carey movie adaptation of this book that I've never seen, but he makes great facial expressions which is something that kids just love.  Or you could offer a bunch of other penguin themed entertainment: Madagascar, Happy Feet (but not the second one because it's not as good), March of the Penguins, etc. etc.  You could have kids draw their own penguins or make paper bag penguins: 

 

Kids could write their own short story about what they would do if they got a penguin in the mail.  Or you could just make a penguin display with this book, the above movies, And Tango Makes Three, nonfiction, Arctic books, etc. etc.  Really, the possibilities are endless.  Now go do some!!

#TheList, No. 987: The Running Man

First things first.  This book was not what was advertised.  Don't call something a "thriller" unless it's a thriller.  It's one of my biggest pet peeves. Like the re-issued classics that have Twilight styled covers.  One of those fans who now wants to rip Kristen Stewart's heart out will be hypnotized by the cover, go home expecting a sheriff father observing an abusive relationship that is deemed perfectly acceptable, and be saddened when that's not s/he they gets.

Other than that misleading bit of information, Michael Gerard Bauer's The Running Man was a fairly competent young adult novel. 

The premise: A young teen, Joseph, needs to complete a portrait for an art class and ends up using his recluse neighbor, Tom, as a subject.  Tom is the focus of much gossip spread by the token nosy neighbor, Mrs. Mossop (rhyming!), causing Joseph to feel hesitant about undertaking such a project.  But while working, he comes to know Tom better, and learns why he's become the recluse he is today.  He also helps him take care of silkworms...it's part of a whole symbolism thing.

The story is a typical "kid reaches the age where he learns that adults have problems too." To quote the first episode of Friends: "Welcome to the real world! It sucks. You're gonna love it."  What sets The Running Man apart from similar stories, is that Tom isn't the only adult shown to have problems.  The titular figure, the "running man," a seemingly psychotic man who runs raggedly around the town and the subject of many of Joseph's nightmares, also has deeply rooted problems that impact his behavior.    Even Joseph shows signs of experiencing some of these "grown-up" problems as the novel progresses toward the revelation of Tom's terrors. 

The silkworm symbolism was a little heavy, but for young readers, it'll help them understand the novel's happenings. 

Who would I give this too: Not someone expecting a thriller, that's for sure.  I still don't see how that reviewer could see "thriller." Maybe an emotional thrill? Anyway, I would give this to someone who likes realistic fiction and serious subject matters. 

Also, this novel has nothing to do with the popular dance move of the same name.  I know, I was sad too.