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Additional Works Cited Kathy, McLellan, and Suellentrop Tricia. “Serving Teens Doing Time.” VOYA 30.5 (2007): 403-07.
O’Brien, Natalie, Jennifer Langhinrichsen-Rohling, and John Shelley-Tremblay. “Reading Problems, Attentional Deficits, and Current Mental Health Status in Adjudicated Adolescent Males.” Journal of Correctional Education 58.3 (2007): 293-315.
William, Drakeford. “The Impact of an Intensive Program to Increase the Literacy Skills of Youth Confined to Juvenile Corrections.” Journal of Correctional Education 53.4 (2002): 139.
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YA
Middle Grade
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Adult Fiction
Currently Reading
Incarceron by Catherine Fisher
World-building definitely takes the day in this one – it’s incredibly creative. And the story is gripping. I hope that we will see more of the world outside the prison in the next book – while the prison itself is interesting, the politics of this country that cannot use modern conveniences by law are the part of the book that really grabbed my attention. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
The True Meaning of Smekday by Adam Rex
I thought this might be one of those books that is capital-G goofy in a desperate, “kids like this stuff, right?” kind of way. How could I ever believe that of Adam Rex? Is it goofy? Absolutely. Pitch-perfectly goofy, and all in the service of a good story. Gratuity is a delight, especially in her relationships with her mother and J Lo. As far as I’m concerned, this is the gold standard of goofy alien-invasion stories.
Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi
Now here’s a YA dystopian novel with some serious teeth. This is a world that is nasty, where everything and everyone is out to get you, but these kids are way too busy staying alive to whine about it. Fast pacing, fantastic central relationships, and a story that raises a lot of great questions about environmental stewardship and class issues without ever feeling like it’s moralizing at you. Nailer’s dad deserves a nod in any discussion of the scariest fathers in YA. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
White Cat by Holly Black
Mobsters and magic, written by Holly Black? Sold! I didn’t connect with the characters in this one as strongly as I might have liked, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story and the world, and I will look forward to more in the series.
The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan
Honestly, this made me sad. I was so excited about it, and then it felt like a faded rehashing of the Percy Jackson series. I loved Basta, but she was the only thing in the book that made me care – or even made me laugh very much. I’m hoping that maybe I was just in the wrong mood for this book – I’ll give the next one a try. But I was definitely disappointed.
The Heart is Not a Size by Beth Kephardt
Lovely book, if not my favorite of Beth Kephardt’s. She has that strange way of making it feel like not much is happening even when there is a good bit of story going on – and making that slow pace feel right. The internal lives of her characters are so rich. And we can add this to the pile of recent books for teens that address religion in ways that go beyond the obvious – a pile I’m pleased to see grow. (Review copy provided by publisher)
Sorcerers and Secretaries Vol. 1 by Amy Kim Gantner
Cute and relatable, but didn’t stick with me at all. And the romantic interest drove me nuts.
The Demon’s Covenant by Sarah Rees Brennan
Excellent second book in a series – does a nice job of avoiding the “middle book in a trilogy that doesn’t have it’s own narrative arc” pitfall that drags many a good series down. The strange sibling relationship between Nick and Alan, which was my favorite thing about The Demon’s Lexicon, gets even more interesting here.
Make Way for Dyamonde Daniel by Nikki G
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Incarceron by Catherine Fisher
World-building definitely takes the day in this one – it’s incredibly creative. And the story is gripping. I hope that we will see more of the world outside the prison in the next book – while the prison itself is interesting, the politics of this country that cannot use modern conveniences by law are the part of the book that really grabbed my attention. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
The True Meaning of Smekday by Adam Rex
I thought this might be one of those books that is capital-G goofy in a desperate, “kids like this stuff, right?” kind of way. How could I ever believe that of Adam Rex? Is it goofy? Absolutely. Pitch-perfectly goofy, and all in the service of a good story. Gratuity is a delight, especially in her relationships with her mother and J Lo. As far as I’m concerned, this is the gold standard of goofy alien-invasion stories.
Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi
Now here’s a YA dystopian novel with some serious teeth. This is a world that is nasty, where everything and everyone is out to get you, but these kids are way too busy staying alive to whine about it. Fast pacing, fantastic central relationships, and a story that raises a lot of great questions about environmental stewardship and class issues without ever feeling like it’s moralizing at you. Nailer’s dad deserves a nod in any discussion of the scariest fathers in YA. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
White Cat by Holly Black
Mobsters and magic, written by Holly Black? Sold! I didn’t connect with the characters in this one as strongly as I might have liked, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story and the world, and I will look forward to more in the series.
The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan
Honestly, this made me sad. I was so excited about it, and then it felt like a faded rehashing of the Percy Jackson series. I loved Basta, but she was the only thing in the book that made me care – or even made me laugh very much. I’m hoping that maybe I was just in the wrong mood for this book – I’ll give the next one a try. But I was definitely disappointed.
The Heart is Not a Size by Beth Kephardt
Lovely book, if not my favorite of Beth Kephardt’s. She has that strange way of making it feel like not much is happening even when there is a good bit of story going on – and making that slow pace feel right. The internal lives of her characters are so rich. And we can add this to the pile of recent books for teens that address religion in ways that go beyond the obvious – a pile I’m pleased to see grow. (Review copy provided by publisher)
Sorcerers and Secretaries Vol. 1 by Amy Kim Gantner
Cute and relatable, but didn’t stick with me at all. And the romantic interest drove me nuts.
The Demon’s Covenant by Sarah Rees Brennan
Excellent second book in a series – does a nice job of avoiding the “middle book in a trilogy that doesn’t have it’s own narrative arc” pitfall that drags many a good series down. The strange sibling relationship between Nick and Alan, which was my favorite thing about The Demon’s Lexicon, gets even more interesting here.
Make Way for Dyamonde Daniel by Nikki Grimes
Read this one at the urging of one of my patrons, and it was just about what I expected from it – a sweet, quick read with a strong female character that will appeal to lots of my beginning readers. It’s really exciting to see so many books for this age range with great POC characters popping up recently – a trend I hope to see reach down to easy readers soon as well.
Britten and Brulightly by Hannah Berry
Somewhere in between baffling and brilliant. The art is stunning and perfectly suits the tone of the narrative. Features some great old-school noir lines – the kind that make me want to put on some bright red lipstick and a hardboiled gumshoe accent and say hardened, brilliant things. But I still have NO idea why he was a teabag.
Scarlett Fever by Maureen Johnson
I unabashedly love these books. And yes, I am absolutely one of the hordes who are in love with Spencer – his deliciously silly plotline was the highlight. This was even better than the first one.
I So Don’t Do Mysteries by Barrie Summie
I pretty strongly disliked the main character in this one, who had no faith in herself and very little curiosity, and I wasn’t ever able to get past that dislike. I was also bothered by how easy the suspension of disbelief was. But I know some kids who will like this a lot, so I’ll give this series another chance and hope for a little more character growth. (Review copy provided by publicist)
The Vinyl Princess by Yvonne Prinz
As a bit of a music geek, I appreciated a lot of the music-geeky characters – they shine when they’re talking about their favorite albums or making a mix. But the romance subplots were obvious, and the exponential growth of her blog was unrealistic enough that it pulled me out of the story.
Plain Kate by Erin Bow
When Arthur Levine raves about a book and makes comparisons to one of his previous acquisitions, The Golden Compass, I stand up and listen. And this fantasy did remind me of Pullman’s masterpiece in some ways – both authors show respect for their young readers by telling stories that are sometimes dark and always complex, without ever writing down. And this is genuinely dark – much more than I expected it to be. Russian folklore provides a rich base for Bow’s story, and her characters are wonderful. This is one to watch for. (Review copy provided by publisher at BEA)
The Half-life of Planets by Emily Franklin and Brendan Halpin
A sweet romance between a girl who’s trying to get over her addiction to kissing and a music-loving boy with Asperger’s. I did feel like quirky traits took the place of genuine character-building sometimes, and I was really annoyed at Lianna’s complete inability or unwillingness to understand how Hank’s actions are affected by having Asperger’s. But despite those reservations, I enjoyed this. (Review copy provided by publisher at BEA)
Mistwood by Leah Cypess
I think this fell victim to too many Graceling comparisons – not that it wasn’t a good book, but it didn’t meet the extremely high standard that I had set in my mind. The story is interesting, and the court politics are great – particularly anything that involved the prince’s sister Clarisse, who is a total Machiavellian ass-kicker. I started to really enjoy it towards the end as Isabel began to realize exactly what was happening to her, which gives her a little bit more depth as a character. (Review copy provided by publisher at BEA)
The Body at the Tower by Y.S. Lee
Another solid entry in this series. Mary starts to actually acknowledge how distant she feels from her Chinese background and how eager she is to keep it hidden in public, which I would really like to see explored further – I thought it was the most interesting part of this book, and it was mostly glossed over. But the mystery was entertaining, and the romance was still quite a bit of fun. (Review copy provided by publisher at BEA)
Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness
Oh man oh man oh man. These books kill me. Todd and Viola have their final showdown with Mayor Prentiss, Mistress Coyle, and the Spackle, and it is a doozy. Patrick Ness knows how to send readers on an emotional rollercoaster, and he has turned the volume up to 11 here. I have rarely felt so physically battered by a book. I didn’t quite believe Mayor Prentiss’ plot arc – toward the end it was a little too much for me. But that hardly mars a truly exceptional series. I can’t wait to see what Patrick Ness has in store for us next. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA)
Gunnerkrigg Court Vol. 1: Orientation by Tom Siddell
A group of my library kids have been raving about the Courtney Crumrin series, and I’m planning to buy this series and hand them over to those guys. It has the same kind of delightfully ho-hum response to really unusual situations, and similarly great characters. I loved the episodic feel – especially when it means there can be a one-pager featuring Fox Mulder.
The Kneebone Boy by Ellen Potter
I wasn’t wild about the ending of this one, but it was certainly unexpected and I think will appeal to a certain type of reader. However, the ride that the Hardscrabble children take to get to that ending is a terrific one. The narrative voice is definitely the star here – although Great-Aunt Haddie and her castle folly threaten to steal the show. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA)
Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
A younger, more innocent turn for Cohn and Levithan. I really enjoyed the scavenger hunt conceit, and I loved Lily and Dash’s opposing feelings about the holidays – Dash’s bah-humbug compared with Lily’s cheerful-Christmas-elf cracked me up. I think Lily’s relentless good cheer was a bit of a stretch for Rachel Cohn – it was definitely a stretch for me. But as we started to see some cracks in her Christmassy armor I warmed up to her. A sweet read. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA)
The Surrender Tree by Margarita Engle
Engle is so good at getting to the core of her historical characters – their voices really shine. And this is such a rich story, even with the very sparse actual historical detail that exists about Rosa and her husband. I am starting to think that verse novels are an ideal way to tell fictionalized versions of true stories from history – the form forces the author to distill the story down to its most essential parts. And Engle is the reigning champion of these historical verse novels.
About once a year, sad-eyed teens wander into my library, sigh, and tell me that their teacher is making them read historical fiction. Now most of the time I can send the boys away happy – here in my library the words “Walter Dean Myers” and “Vietnam War” work wonders – but a certain type of girl groans at everything I pull out and casts sad eyes towards the Twilight books and whatever PC Cast happens to be on the shelf that day. They’re looking for a little bit of the supernatural and a whole lot of romance, but it’s got to be realistic fiction with a strong historical bent. And Dianne Salerni has found a story that a history teacher and a teenage girl can get equally excited about.
Kate and Maggie Fox only meant to play a practical joke, but their ability to make loud rapping noises with their joints – combined with a few strange coincidences – have the whole town convinced that the young sisters can converse with the dead. And when their shrewd Aunt Leah gets involved, the girls find themselves in the center of the newly formed Spiritualist movement, with their services highly desired for seances and sittings.
A rift grows between Maggie, who struggles with her conscience as their growing fame and need for secrecy make her more and more uncomfortable, and Kate, who is either completely convinced that their talent is genuine or a frighteneningly good liar. The narrative is split between the two girls with Maggie getting the majority of the chapters – which is a good choice, since Kate’s chapters are told from the perspective of someone who is either crazy or an incredible manipulator, neither of which make her easy to relate to as a narrator. Maggie, on the other hand, is easy to sympathize with as she is swept up in a series of events that are often beyond her control.
It’s a compelling piece of history – the kind of history that just begs for the YA treatment. And Salerni has clearly done her research, both on the Fox sisters and on the period. Details are vivid, and the narrative touches on other important historical movements of the time in interesting ways, particularly women’s liberation. In the second half of the book, Maggie’s relationship with a famous Arctic explorer provides some wonderful opportunities to explore issues of class, gender, and power in the late 19th Century.
While Salerni’s historical accuracy and clear love for the period and the story are welcome, they do lead to one of my pet peeves for historical fiction based on a true story – Salerni’s desire to tell every part of the Fox sisters’ story means that this book is loooooong. We Hear the Dead is strongest in the beginning, when the sisters were first caught up in their deceptions, and in the second half, when Maggie’s love interest provides a firm plot arc for her character. The central part of the book, which relates a part of the Fox sisters’ story that does not have as natural a narrative arc, did not always hold my interest as a reader. A tighter focus would have benefitted the book and made it a little bit more approachable in terms of length. Despite that reservation, Salerni tells an engaging story that will appeal to many teens.
Reviewed from ARC provided by the publisher.
About once a year, sad-eyed teens wander into my library, sigh, and tell me that their teacher is making them read historical fiction. Now most of the time I can send the boys away happy – here in my library the words “Walter Dean Myers” and “Vietnam War” work wonders – but a certain type of girl groans at everything I pull out and casts sad eyes towards the Twilight books and whatever PC Cast happens to be on the shelf that day. They’re looking for a little bit of the supernatural and a whole lot of romance, but it’s got to be realistic fiction with a strong historical bent. And Dianne Salerni has found a story that a history teacher and a teenage girl can get equally excited about.
Kate and Maggie Fox only meant to play a practical joke, but their ability to make loud rapping noises with their joints – combined with a few strange coincidences – have the whole town convinced that the young sisters can converse with the dead. And when their shrewd Aunt Leah gets involved, the girls find themselves in the center of the newly formed Spiritualist movement, with their services highly desired for seances and sittings.
A rift grows between Maggie, who struggles with her conscience as their growing fame and need for secrecy make her more and more uncomfortable, and Kate, who is either completely convinced that their talent is genuine or a frighteneningly good liar. The narrative is split between the two girls with Maggie getting the majority of the chapters – which is a good choice, since Kate’s chapters are told from the perspective of someone who is either crazy or an incredible manipulator, neither of which make her easy to relate to as a narrator. Maggie, on the other hand, is easy to sympathize with as she is swept up in a series of events that are often beyond her control.
It’s a compelling piece of history – the kind of history that just begs for the YA treatment. And Salerni has clearly done her research, both on the Fox sisters and on the period. Details are vivid, and the narrative touches on other important historical movements of the time in interesting ways, particularly women’s liberation. In the second half of the book, Maggie’s relationship with a famous Arctic explorer provides some wonderful opportunities to explore issues of class, gender, and power in the late 19th Century.
While Salerni’s historical accuracy and clear love for the period and the story are welcome, they do lead to one of my pet peeves for historical fiction based on a true story – Salerni’s desire to tell every part of the Fox sisters’ story means that this book is loooooong. We Hear the Dead is strongest in the beginning, when the sisters were first caught up in their deceptions, and in the second half, when Maggie’s love interest provides a firm plot arc for her character. The central part of the book, which relates a part of the Fox sisters’ story that does not have as natural a narrative arc, did not always hold my interest as a reader. A tighter focus would have benefitted the book and made it a little bit more approachable in terms of length. Despite that reservation, Salerni tells an engaging story that will appeal to many teens.
Reviewed from ARC provided by the publisher.
YA
Middle Grade
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(Reading logs two posts in a row – how embarrassing! I have so many half-written review posts, so hopefully I’ll get some of those up soon now that summer reading is up and running.)
YA
Middle Grade
Graphic Novels
Adult Fiction
Currently Reading
(Reading logs two posts in a row – how embarrassing! I have so many half-written review posts, so hopefully I’ll get some of those up soon now that summer reading is up and running.)
YA
Middle Grade
Early Chapter
Kids and YA Nonfiction
Graphic Novels
Adult Fiction
Adult Nonfiction
Currently Reading
YA
Middle Grade
Early Chapter
Kids and YA Nonfiction
Graphic Novels
Adult Fiction
Adult Nonfiction
Currently Reading
Ry is on the train to summer camp when he reads the final letter from the camp director. The letter reads, in its entirety:
Dear Roy,
Do not come to camp. There is no camp. Camp is a concept that no longer exists in a real place or time.
We are so sorry. The Summer ArcheoTrails Program will not take place. A statistically improbable number of things have gone wrong and the camel’s back is broken. Your money will be fully refunded as soon as I sell my car and remortgage my house.
We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, blahblahblah. We hope to regroup and put together a bombproof program by next summer. Live and learn!
With deepest apologies, believe me,
(illegible scrawl)
Wally Osfeld (pgs 6-7. All quotes taken from ARC and are subject to change.)
This is not the last statistically improbable thing that will happen to Ry during his summer vacation – not by a long shot. Who ever would have guessed, for example, that shortly after reading this strange letter Ry would hop off the stopped train – just for a moment – to try to get cell phone reception so he can call his family, only to have the train suddenly pull away and leave him stranded in the hills with not so much as a house in sight? By the time Ry reaches civilization he has only the travel cash from his pocket, a black eye, a pocketknife, a single shoe, and a useless cell phone with very little charge and no reception. Not that the cell phone would have done him much good – his parents, who are on a vacation somewhere in the Caribbean, have lost their cell phone to a curious monkey. And his grandpa, who is house-sitting and taking care of Ry’s dogs, has hit his head during a fall and developed short-term amnesia. No one in the world knows that Ry is wandering by himself – and it might not seem like it at this moment in time, but a totally unplanned, detour-filled, almost-catastrophic road trip might be exactly what Ry needed this summer.
Some books have a charm that is just so easy. It takes a light hand and a keen sense of humor to make the reader stay invested and, well, somewhere within the realm of belief, in a book where literally everything goes wrong. And I do mean everything – Ry is in the above situation within 30 pages, and things don’t get any simpler for him. Luckily, Lynne Rae Perkins has both of those qualities in spades. Despite Ry tripping from one unbelievable situation to the next, the wry, conversational style of the narrative keeps the verging-on-silly plot from running off the rails. A notable example (and please know that I am doing my very best not to make this review just a string of random quotations – it’s a serious temptation with a book that’s so expertly narrated!): “Ry looked at his feet and legs in one of those little shoe mirrors that sat on the floor. The shoes were a metaphor for the decline of western civilization: crappy and glitzy and barely useful, but pretty comfortable. This is the narrator’s opinion. Ry didn’t think that thought specifically, but he felt as dispirited as if he had.” (Pg. 68. All quotes taken from ARC and are subject to change.) You want to crawl inside the narrator’s head right now, don’t you? I sure do.
And in the end, no matter what the plot threw my way, the absurdly delightful characters that people this novel could hold my attention in any situation. Ry is funny, sweet, and a little bit dumbfounded – as anyone would be i
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Ry is on the train to summer camp when he reads the final letter from the camp director. The letter reads, in its entirety:
Dear Roy,
Do not come to camp. There is no camp. Camp is a concept that no longer exists in a real place or time.
We are so sorry. The Summer ArcheoTrails Program will not take place. A statistically improbable number of things have gone wrong and the camel’s back is broken. Your money will be fully refunded as soon as I sell my car and remortgage my house.
We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, blahblahblah. We hope to regroup and put together a bombproof program by next summer. Live and learn!
With deepest apologies, believe me,
(illegible scrawl)
Wally Osfeld (pgs 6-7. All quotes taken from ARC and are subject to change.)
This is not the last statistically improbable thing that will happen to Ry during his summer vacation – not by a long shot. Who ever would have guessed, for example, that shortly after reading this strange letter Ry would hop off the stopped train – just for a moment – to try to get cell phone reception so he can call his family, only to have the train suddenly pull away and leave him stranded in the hills with not so much as a house in sight? By the time Ry reaches civilization he has only the travel cash from his pocket, a black eye, a pocketknife, a single shoe, and a useless cell phone with very little charge and no reception. Not that the cell phone would have done him much good – his parents, who are on a vacation somewhere in the Caribbean, have lost their cell phone to a curious monkey. And his grandpa, who is house-sitting and taking care of Ry’s dogs, has hit his head during a fall and developed short-term amnesia. No one in the world knows that Ry is wandering by himself – and it might not seem like it at this moment in time, but a totally unplanned, detour-filled, almost-catastrophic road trip might be exactly what Ry needed this summer.
Some books have a charm that is just so easy. It takes a light hand and a keen sense of humor to make the reader stay invested and, well, somewhere within the realm of belief, in a book where literally everything goes wrong. And I do mean everything – Ry is in the above situation within 30 pages, and things don’t get any simpler for him. Luckily, Lynne Rae Perkins has both of those qualities in spades. Despite Ry tripping from one unbelievable situation to the next, the wry, conversational style of the narrative keeps the verging-on-silly plot from running off the rails. A notable example (and please know that I am doing my very best not to make this review just a string of random quotations – it’s a serious temptation with a book that’s so expertly narrated!): “Ry looked at his feet and legs in one of those little shoe mirrors that sat on the floor. The shoes were a metaphor for the decline of western civilization: crappy and glitzy and barely useful, but pretty comfortable. This is the narrator’s opinion. Ry didn’t think that thought specifically, but he felt as dispirited as if he had.” (Pg. 68. All quotes taken from ARC and are subject to change.) You want to crawl inside the narrator’s head right now, don’t you? I sure do.
And in the end, no matter what the plot threw my way, the absurdly delightful characters that people this novel could hold my attention in any situation. Ry is funny, sweet, and a little bit dumbfounded – as anyone would be in the situations he finds himself in. He is charming from the very beginning, and is capable of keeping his affable nature even in the worst of circumstances. And then he finally stumbles into a town, finds a stranger, and tries his best to act like this is all something that happens to ordinary people. But in what might be the single stroke of good luck that finds Ry in his journey, this total stranger is Del.
Oh, Del Del wonderful Del! Del lives, breathes, and thrives on people in unusual situations who are in need of his help. Especially if that help involves unexpected road trips, fixing things in unusual ways, danger, or unlikely odds – and Ry’s story will have all of these. Del’s the kind of guy who listens to Ry’s improbable story and says, well, since you can’t get a hold of your family I guess I’ll drive you from Montana to Wisconsin. And when that doesn’t work out as they planned, he says well, I guess I’ll just take you down to the Caribbean to find your parents. And when they end up in a car driven by a man with very little eyesight and no feeling below his knees, or in a small plane that requires some midair repairs over the ocean, Ry is able to stave off panic by looking at Del, who “seemed, as he was in any situation that required physical strength and agility plus mechanical aptitude and that also included unlikely odds, perfectly at ease” (pg. 259, All quotes taken from ARC and are subject to change.) Del is, without question, my new favorite grown-up in a YA novel, and he is the perfect companion for Ry’s bizarre summer. It is Del’s reassuring presence that makes the novel still feel comfortable and safe enough to be truly funny, even in situations that should, by all rights, be terrifying.
Now, Ry and Del’s adventure is interwoven with a few others – Ry’s parents, his grandpa, and even his dogs each have their own tale to tell. And in Perkins’ hands, their tales are also funny and sweet and worth reading. In any other context, I think I would have been delighted by these little sidestories. But I fell so completely in love with Ry and Del that I got easily annoyed by anything that took me away from them. Please don’t think of this as a genuine quibble with the book – when I make myself think of it in an objective way and not as a crazy reader with an agenda of her own, I think these detours were the best way to tell the stories of Ry’s family, and those stories are important to Ry’s journey and do a nice job of further illuminating the themes of luck and chance that the book centers around. And I think many readers will love their addition, especially the story of the dogs, which is told in short illustrated episodes.
I have not yet read anything else by Lynne Rae Perkins. I feel like an idiot now. Are her other books this wise and wonderful? Somebody get me a copy of Criss Cross, stat!
Review copy provided by the publisher.
When you see The Dreamer sitting on a shelf, you will want to pick it up and hold it in your hands. From the shimmering cover that invites you into the universe of Neftalí’s head, to the thick paper that feels perfect under your fingers, to the calm green color of the ink, to the tiny illustration of an acorn that greets you on the title page, this is a book full of small treasures. In a story that is about taking delight in the smallest details, kudos to the designers who made the physical object of this book reflect the subject matter so beautifully.
Neftalí’s family lives under the shadow of his domineering father, a railroad man. Happy family moments are stopped cold by the sound of the train whistle that announces Father’s impending return. Rodolfo, Neftalí’s older brother, has already abandoned his dreams of studying music and becoming a singer, and Father is doing his best to railroad Neftalí onto the same path of leaving dreams behind and pursuing the future of Father’s choosing. But while Neftalí appears to be a weak, vulnerable child, he has hidden reserves of strength and stubbornness.
Munoz-Ryan does a wonderful job of capturing the nuances of Neftalí’s character. His compassion and curiosity are almost overwhelming, and they often get the better of Neftalí’s desire to please his authoritarian father. His fascination with words is woven into the text as he plays with their sound and meaning. The story is episodic, and the scenes are well chosen to crystallize the moments that made Neftalí into Neruda, but they also hang together well to tell a story of a shy young man with a highly developed sense of wonder. One of this book’s greatest strengths, in terms of getting it into the hands of children, is that it easily stands on its own as a novel. There is no need to know anything about Pablo Neruda to appreciate this book – in fact, there is no need for a reader to even know that it is based on a true story. While being aware of Neruda’s life certainly adds layers of resonance to this book, the story will be enjoyed by anyone who can appreciate Neftalí’s struggles and his unique outlook. The selection of poetry in the back of the book, which includes several of Neruda’s poems that directly address some of the pivotal moments in the book, is expertly chosen to appeal to young readers and may convince some young readers to seek out more.
While Munoz-Ryan’s telling of Neftalí’s childhood is wonderful, the collaboration with Peter Sis makes the story sing. Each chapter begins with three small pictures on a single page, each picture showing some scene, feeling, or object that will be important to the text. These tiny drawings echo the small treasures that Neftalí collects, and they evoke the fascination with the world around him and the attention to detail that define Neftalí. Larger drawings, all in Sís’ characteristic stippled style, illustrate the fantastical ways in which Neftalí sees his world while also working in relevant lines from Neruda’s poetry. These drawings are full of wonder, but also very evocative of Neftalí’s feelings in that moment – whether that is fear of his father looming up above the sea, sadness and protectiveness of a hurt swan, or the excitement of traveling and making new friends. Sís’ drawings do with ink lines what Neruda’s poetry does with words – they crystallize feelings and experiences down to their essence, conveying them in briefly but completely. They complement the story, and the poetry, beautifully. Asking Peter Sís to turn Pablo Neruda’s imagination into visual form was a stroke
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When you see The Dreamer sitting on a shelf, you will want to pick it up and hold it in your hands. From the shimmering cover that invites you into the universe of Neftalí’s head, to the thick paper that feels perfect under your fingers, to the calm green color of the ink, to the tiny illustration of an acorn that greets you on the title page, this is a book full of small treasures. In a story that is about taking delight in the smallest details, kudos to the designers who made the physical object of this book reflect the subject matter so beautifully.
Neftalí’s family lives under the shadow of his domineering father, a railroad man. Happy family moments are stopped cold by the sound of the train whistle that announces Father’s impending return. Rodolfo, Neftalí’s older brother, has already abandoned his dreams of studying music and becoming a singer, and Father is doing his best to railroad Neftalí onto the same path of leaving dreams behind and pursuing the future of Father’s choosing. But while Neftalí appears to be a weak, vulnerable child, he has hidden reserves of strength and stubbornness.
Munoz-Ryan does a wonderful job of capturing the nuances of Neftalí’s character. His compassion and curiosity are almost overwhelming, and they often get the better of Neftalí’s desire to please his authoritarian father. His fascination with words is woven into the text as he plays with their sound and meaning. The story is episodic, and the scenes are well chosen to crystallize the moments that made Neftalí into Neruda, but they also hang together well to tell a story of a shy young man with a highly developed sense of wonder. One of this book’s greatest strengths, in terms of getting it into the hands of children, is that it easily stands on its own as a novel. There is no need to know anything about Pablo Neruda to appreciate this book – in fact, there is no need for a reader to even know that it is based on a true story. While being aware of Neruda’s life certainly adds layers of resonance to this book, the story will be enjoyed by anyone who can appreciate Neftalí’s struggles and his unique outlook. The selection of poetry in the back of the book, which includes several of Neruda’s poems that directly address some of the pivotal moments in the book, is expertly chosen to appeal to young readers and may convince some young readers to seek out more.
While Munoz-Ryan’s telling of Neftalí’s childhood is wonderful, the collaboration with Peter Sis makes the story sing. Each chapter begins with three small pictures on a single page, each picture showing some scene, feeling, or object that will be important to the text. These tiny drawings echo the small treasures that Neftalí collects, and they evoke the fascination with the world around him and the attention to detail that define Neftalí. Larger drawings, all in Sís’ characteristic stippled style, illustrate the fantastical ways in which Neftalí sees his world while also working in relevant lines from Neruda’s poetry (edited to add – please see Pam Munoz-Ryan’s correction in the comments – these lines of poetry were written by her, not Pablo Neruda.). These drawings are full of wonder, but also very evocative of Neftalí’s feelings in that moment – whether that is fear of his father looming up above the sea, sadness and protectiveness of a hurt swan, or the excitement of traveling and making new friends. Sís’ drawings do with ink lines what Neruda’s poetry does with words – they crystallize feelings and experiences down to their essence, conveying them in briefly but completely. They complement the story, and the poetry, beautifully. Asking Peter Sís to turn Pablo Neruda’s imagination into visual form was a stroke of genius, and one that will give young readers an additional window into the world of his words.
Soul Enchilada by David Macinnis Gill – A story that sometimes got a little bit goofy, but in a very self-aware way that I enjoyed. And I am completely in love with these characters – Bug and Pesto are too much fun.
The Dead-Tossed Waves by Carrie Ryan – While this one didn’t pack quite as much of an emotional punch as The Forest of Hands and Teeth, I thought that it was really well-plotted and absolutely terrifying. And that’s exactly what I want from a zombie book. Loved the connections between the two stories. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins – Cute but predictable story set in a(nother) school for kids with magic. I did think that the mean girls side of the story was handled well, but I didn’t find this novel especially memorable.
The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place by Maryrose Wood – I was completely won over by this rollicking old-time story that has tongue firmly planted in cheek. I didn’t think that the conceit was going to hold through a full novel – was pretty sure that it would feel one-note and boring by the end – but I’m happy to say that wasn’t the case. I think it worked because Miss Lumley and the Incorrigibles are such winning characters. (Review copy provided by publisher.)
The Color of Earth and The Color of Water by Kim Dong Hwa – While I realize that these books are about a young girl’s sexual awakening, it sure would be nice if we were ever privy to a single one of her thoughts that doesn’t center on boys and sex. Diversify, please! On the good side, the art is absolutely gorgeous.
She Thief by Daniel Finn – Interesting story, but suffered from some pacing issues, and the slangy sort-of-Cockney dialect was distracting. I did like the setting a lot - a future London that sometimes feels a lot like the past until a cell phone shows up in somebody’s pocket. (Review copy provided by publisher at ALA Midwinter)
The Maze Runner by James Dashner – Are we in the golden age of YA dystopia or what? I keep thinking “oh man, another depressing dystopian novel, here we go again” and then I keep getting blown away. This was taut and exciting and surprising and exactly what you would want from this type of story. I handed it directly to one of my library kids when I was finished, and he came back the next day gushing and asking for the sequel. Which I need. Right now.
The Devil’s Kiss by Sarwat Chadda – Great beginning – the first chapter definitely brings the intrigue. And the whole things move quick and draws the reader along. And Billi is a bona-fide ass-kicker. And yet… just didn’t make me care as much as I wanted to. Can’t put my finger on why.
The Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner – Ok, confession time: I read The Thief and liked it fine. But I didn’t love it, and so I never got around to the rest of this series. Go ahead and berate me for a couple of minutes – I totally deserve it. This series is AMAZING. Eugenides is THE AWESOMEST. I need to talk about these books in ALL CAPS. The Thief improves on re-reading, and the r
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Borderline starts out as a coming of age story about Sami Sabiri, a Muslim-American teen who is struggling to balance his family with his school and social life in a very white suburb. It turns in to a taut thriller that explores safety in the Homeland Security era, race, and terrorism.
Now, if those were descriptions of two different books, I would probably pick up book #2. And if I did, I would be missing out. While the issues of justice, fear, and racial profiling that are addressed in the story of the arrest of Sami’s father are extremely interesting and the author does a nice job of carefully weaving them into the text, I did find the situations sometimes past my point of belief. And I was genuinely more invested in Sami’s story before he is thrust into extraordinary circumstances – not my usual reaction to a book.
Sami is such a likable kid, and his isolation from friends and schoolmates and his frustration with his strict father are shown in a way that make you really feel for him. Sami’s easy sense of humor when he is with his best friends Andy and Marty contrasts with his insecurity at school, where he is the only Muslim student. But as Sami tries to navigate a path between the usual small teenage rebellions and his desire to please his parents, and especially his strict and distant father, Sami begins to drift away even from his friends, who don’t understand the pressures that Sami feels. Sami’s uneasy navigation of those relationships are this book’s greatest strength.
Sami’s father’s strange actions begin to arouse Sami’s suspicions, and shortly after Sami launches his own investigation of his father’s activities, Mr. Sabiri is suddenly arrested and accused of being part of a terrorist plot. Not only is Sami ostracized and sometimes threatened by neighbors, classmates, and even school officials, but he is also desperate to learn the truth about his father. Whlie his mother works closely with a lawyer to fight a justice system that seems to ignore the idea that a person is innocent until proven guilty in the face of potential terrorism, Sami becomes convinced that he is the only person who will be able to reach the accused leader of the terror plot and prove his father’s guilt or innocence. He and his buddies race off on a poorly-planned mission to seek out a possible terrorist.
This is the part of the story that I had some mixed feelings about. Maybe if Sami hadn’t been such a vividly drawn character, I might have been more willing to gloss over some of the tremendously stupid decisions that were made by someone who seemed like a smart kid, if a little bit impulsive. If this book had started as a legal thriller, I probably would never have questioned Sami’s actions in his quest to save his dad. But because Sami was so real to me, I had a little trouble reconciling the two parts of the book, which sometimes pulled me out of the action of the story.
I don’t want to give anything away, but I will say that the true story behind Sami’s father’s arrest is much more interesting and convincing than I ever would have guessed. I may have drifted away a little bit, but the conclusion really grabbed my interest and pulled me back into the plot of the book. And I never drifted away from the characters – Sami and his friends and family had a grip on me from beginning to end.
Allan Stratton on the web
A review copy of this book was provided by the publisher.
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(Side note: I am a reading machine! 23 books: my best month ever! And in a month where I had houseguests three weekends in a row! I am feeling a) very accomplished and b) like I should probably get out more.)
“Being brown and broke has been a seventeen-year-test in just how badly I want an average life… Why does the valedictorian have to choose between my class ring and this SAT prep class? Why does a clean-cut teenager have to decide between showing up to my minimum-wage job and going to the movies with the most popular girl in school? Why do I have to fight so hard just for the mere chance to have it all?” (pg. 52. Quotes taken from ARC – language is subject to change.)
Efrain Rodriguez is the highest-achieving student at his high school in the South Bronx, and despite lots of people telling him that he will never get in (and couldn’t pay for it even if he did), he has his heart set on the Ivy Leagues. But money weighs heavily on his mind – his mom is working long hours just to get by, and his dad hasn’t exactly taken a strong interest in Efrain’s life since having a baby with his new girlfriend. Efrain feels like he needs to take his financial situation into his own hands, and his afterschool tutoring job doesn’t cut it anymore. So when an old friend who deals drugs approaches him with a chance to make a lot of money fast, Efrain thinks about all those choices he is forced to make in his life because of money. He surprises himself by saying yes.
As Efrain is drawn deeper into the world of dealing, and as his lies to friends and family multiply, the reader can feel the moment when everything falls apart looming over Efrain. You know that it’s coming, and that the fallout is going to be awful – it’s just a matter of when. And if that reader is me, the reader will be banging her head against a wall and shouting “No Efrain Stop Stop Stop No!” Because he genuinely doesn’t want this life, and he really doesn’t need this life if he will allow himself to rely on the people around him. But when Efrain starts to list the things that are stacked against him, you can feel his desperation and start to understand how he could possibly make this decision that goes against every part of his judgment and his sense of morality.
Efrain’s relationships with his girlfriend, mother, and sister, are well drawn, but his relationships with the men in his life are especially complex. Efrain grew up with two best friends, Chingy and Nestor, but the group split when Nestor started dealing drugs. Chingy will no longer have anything to do with Nestor, and his changing relationships with these two boys over the course of the book are one of the most compelling parts of the story. Nestor, who brings Efrain in to the drug trade, could easily have been a stereotype of the bad drug-dealing kid. At first glance that is all you see. But as the story digs down a little bit deeper into his life, he becomes a genuinely sympathetic character – a choice that makes the story much more interesting and less reductive. Efrain’s relationship with his absentee father follows a similar arc.
I did find the dialogue uneven, especially between Efrain and Chingy - sometimes it flowed freely and genuinely, and other times it sounded a little bit like a skit written by a guidance counselor about getting in to college. Efrain and Chingy go from slangy, loose conversations to this:
“In order to be as accurate as possible, I couldn’t just develop one code. I had to create a unique algorithm for each and every college.”
It takes me a second to grasp his point. “Because Hunter College may place more emphasis on your SAT score than, say, Harvard might?”
“Exactly! And there’s no way to assess that unless you talk to someone at every admiss
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