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The Story of Tracy Beaker. by Jacqueline Wilson. 1991; 2006. Yearling. 224 pages. ISBN: 9780440867579

 Tracy Beaker lives in a children's home. She has had two failed attempts at making things work with a foster family, but because she is an older child and a bit unruly, she has had trouble making a long-term connection. When she begins writing her life story in a book given to her by the home, she discovers some writing talent, and even has the chance to meet a real-life author, but when it seems like she and the author might just hit it off, she finds that her behavior might keep her from truly enjoying this new friendship.

Tracy is the plucky kind of character kids love to read about, whether they have anything in common with her or not. She is smart-mouthed, funny, sarcastic, and authentic, and her difficult situation gives kids a lot of reasons to root for her right off the bat. She is not always a reliable narrator, but her lies and half-truths are always obvious to the reader, and I think the reader can easily understand that they arise from a desire to protect herself. Even her misbehavior – getting into fights, breaking others' belongings, having angry outbursts – is presented in a realistic way that presents things for what they are, without glorifying disobedience or immediately passing judgment on Tracy as a “bad” kid.

Though this book was originally published in the UK in 1991, it didn't make it to the United States until 2006. Though I suspect the publisher probably could have updated some things to bring the story up to date, there is no obvious evidence that this has been done in the US edition that I read. I recall no references to cell phones or other gadgets, and honestly, I'm not sure Tracy or her friends would realistically have those things even if this book were written today. Everything in the story felt very contemporary, and I think most middle grade readers would feel the same way.

Last year, when I reviewed One for the Murphys, I criticized it for its overly happy ending, which to me, felt forced and unrealistic. The Story of Tracy Beaker seems much more in tune with what a real-life foster care experience might be like, and I think anyone who reads One for the Murphys should read this book as well to ensure a more balanced look inside the lives of kids who are in the foster care system.

There are several other titles about Tracy Beaker, and though they don't seem to be available in the US, I'd definitely like to read them. They include: The Dare Game, Starring Tracy Beaker, Tracy Beaker's Thumping Heart, and Ask Tracy Beaker and Friends.

I borrowed The Story of Tracy Beaker from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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The Big Six. by Arthur Ransome. 1940. 367 pages. ISBN: 9781567921199

In the eight books of the Swallows and Amazons series published prior to The Big Six, Arthur Ransome’s wonderful characters have imagined themselves in a whole host of situations. Sometimes they are sailors; at other times, they’re miners, at still other times, they’re explorers. This time around, the Death and Glories (Joe, Bill, and Pete) and Tom Dudgeon as well as Dick and Dorothea, fancy themselves detectives, and they’re not too far off from becoming the real thing. Someone has been casting off boats, and almost everyone believes it is the Death and Glories. They have been in the vicinity of each boat set adrift, and Mr. Tedder, the local policeman is sure he will be able to prove it was them and disband the Coot Club. Dorothea, with her wild imagination, and Dick, with his new interest in photography team up to help their friends prove their innocence and catch the real culprit.

While I will always love the Swallows the most of all of Ransome’s characters, I really grew to love the Death and Glories in this book. In their first appearance, back in Coot Club, the three boys seemed very much like one entity, with very few obvious details to differentiate one from another. In this book, the three boys’ individual personalities are much more pronounced, and I enjoyed seeing the ways they related to one another. I also enjoyed seeing Dick and Dorothea in leadership roles in this story. In all the previous books they have been in, it seems like they have always taken their cues from someone else - namely Nancy, Tom, or Mrs. Barrable. To see them as heroes in this book was a nice change of pace. I also thought it was neat to introduce a mystery element into a sailing story, and I didn’t miss the technical sailing jargon that seems to permeate most of Ransome’s other writing.

I am now just three books away from completing this series, and The Big Six is definitely among my favorites of all the books. At some points, the repetition of the evidence and the lack of action is a bit tedious, but for the most part, the fresh dialogue keeps things moving, and the slow revelations about the different clues help to build suspense so that the reader doesn’t know the outcome of the mystery until the absolute last second. Though the reader can easily guess early on who the true criminal is, it is still entertaining to see the kids solve the mystery and prove their case even when none of the adults around them could manage. Just like all the other Swallows and Amazons books, this one celebrates what kids can do on their own and proves that they should be taken just as seriously as adults.

I own a copy of The Big Six. 

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The All-Of-A-Kind Family. by Sydney Taylor. 1951. Follett Publishing Company. 189 pages. ISBN: 0929093089

Mama has five girls: Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte, and Gertie, and because there are no boys, they call themselves an “all-of-a-kind family.” The family doesn’t have very much money, but they still have lots to be happy about. The girls visit the library regularly, where they are always glad to see their friend, the library lady. They have a wonderful relationship with their father’s best friend, Charlie, who gives them treats when they are sick and often comes around for dinner on holidays. They even get a little bit of money now and then to spend on secret candy to eat in bed, and to buy gifts for their father’s birthday. Throughout the year, the girls keep busy and make the best of what they do have - wonderful friends, and each other.

This first book in the All-of-a-Kind-Family series was written in the 1950s, but it takes place during the year 1912. Despite the age of the story and the fact that it is historical fiction, it is a fresh and accessible book, even today. Though the girls in the story are poor and living on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, they have many experiences that can be universally appreciated by children from all backgrounds, living in urban and rural environments. Each chapter consists of a particularly memorable episode in the family’s life, including things like the loss of a library book, the discovery of old books in their father’s warehouse, and missing out on the Passover seder because of scarlet fever. Readers learn not only what life was like for immigrants living in early 20th century New York, but also all about Jewish tradition and celebrations throughout the year. Though the girls in the story lived 100 years ago, they have many qualities, interests, and worries that contemporary kids undoubtedly share.

The All-of-a-Kind Family is a great fictional representation of growing up in a Jewish family, as well as a sweet celebration of sisterhood. There are some surprise twists at the end of the book that bring together details and characters from earlier chapters, and I didn’t see any of those coming, so I was very pleased by that. I also like how quickly the story moves, and the upbeat tone that provides a sense of hope in difficult circumstances without becoming overly sentimental about city living or poverty. Readers who are anxiously awaiting another installment in the Penderwicks series might enjoy reading about the All-of-a-Kind Family - a series with six books in all - while they wait. It might also appeal to fans of Megan McDonald’s Sisters Club books, and to readers who enjoy The Boxcar Children, The Bobbsey Twins, and Betsy-Tacy.

I borrowed The All-of-a-Kind Family from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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The Railway Children. by E. Nesbit. 1906. 208 pages. ISBN: 9780486410227

Roberta (Bobbie), Peter, and Phyllis (Phil) have never been poor before, but when their father must go away unexpectedly, they and their mother move to a more modest home in the country. There isn’t much to do in their new, smaller house, and their mother is always busy writing stories to make ends meet, so the children often find themselves visiting the railway station. There they have many adventures: making friends with Perks the porter, waving to a particular old gentleman who rides the train past their station every day, and even saving a train from a very bad accident! All the while the three children are kept in the dark about where their father really is. When Bobbie finds out by mistake, she uses her railway connections to sort things out and, hopefully, bring her father home.

My husband has been nagging me to read this book for months, and I kept putting it off because I was one hundred percent sure it was an old, sad orphan story. I was completely wrong about this, as it turns out. There is some sadness in the book, but the kids are not orphans, and though the story is now over 100 years old, it reads more like a 1950s children’s novel, such as those written by Eleanor Estes and Elizabeth Enright. It is certainly somewhat old-fashioned compared to contemporary middle grade novels - the children dress in early 1900s garb, they watch a “paper chase” in one chapter, and they lack the modern sources of news and communication that would have made it much easier for them to learn of their father’s whereabouts during his long absence. The narrator also sometimes addresses the reader directly, which is not very common in contemporary kids’ books (unless they’re written by Lemony Snicket.) Even so, the dialogue between the characters sounds very contemporary, and many of the children’s arguments and conversations could easily happen in any group of 21st century children I have met.

The story itself is well-written without being difficult to read. The characters come vividly to life mostly in the way they speak, and each chapter’s adventure moves swiftly by. It is extremely unlikely that any group of kids would have so many opportunities to save lives and cheer up those in need, and it did bother me toward the end of the book that a country town where nothing ever happens could suddenly be the center of so much excitement. Still, kids reading this book would no doubt enjoy seeing kids their own age becoming heroes, no matter how unlikely those events might actually be. They will also relate to the kids’ desire not to seem like pious goody-goodies, and to the mistakes they make along the way.

The Railway Children is to railroads what Swallows and Amazons is to sailboats. Any child who has ever been fascinated by trains will fall in love with the railway station along with Bobbie, Peter, and Phil, and they will enjoy feeling like part of their family. Recommend The Railway Children to realistic fiction readers who enjoy family stories, adventure, and emotional happy endings.

I read The Railway Children free online at Project Gutenberg.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Afternoon of the Elves. by Janet Taylor Lisle. 1989. Orchard Books. 122 pages. ISBN: 9780531084373

Sara-Kate Connolly is in fifth grade for the second time, and everyone, including fourth graders, like Hillary, knows to stay away from her. Her house is dark and dilapidated, and the yard is overgrown with brush. Plus, Mrs. Connolly never comes out of the house. It’s not safe to play at the Connollys’ house, and Hillary’s mom would prefer that she didn’t. The only thing is, Sara-Kate has an elf village in her backyard. She invites Hillary over to help her maintain it, and from that first afternoon Hillary is hooked - not just on elves, but on Sara-Kate herself. As their friendship grows, Hillary becomes convinced that Sara-Kate herself might be an elf. She also learns, over time, and quite by accident, the horrible truth of Sara-Kate’s sad and mysterious life.

This is one of the creepiest children’s books I have ever read. I am so thankful I did not discover it when I was a kid, because I’m not sure I could have handled its eerie tone and unresolved ending. Though this is a realistic fiction book, it’s also something of a psychological thriller. Hillary believes in Sara-Kate’s well-constructed fantasy so thoroughly that she becomes almost blind to the fact that Sara-Kate and her mother are nearly starving to death. She becomes obsessed with the elves to the point that she continues visiting them after Sara-Kate is gone, and she becomes distant from her own friends and rebellious towards her mother. Sara-Kate’s house is described using details one would attribute to a haunted house, and a little shiver of fear and anticipation went up my spine each time Hillary thought she saw Sara-Kate’s mom appear in the window. When Hillary finally makes her way into that house and sees the state of things inside, I felt like I was watching a horror movie, just waiting for something to jump right out at me. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it - the whole story actually really freaked me out.

This book was published in 1989, and received a Newbery Honor in 1990, but though it is more than 20 years old, it reads as though it could happen any time. Despite it creepiness, the story does raise a lot of important issues that seem relevant to almost any time period. It shows the way poor families, or families in need of serious help, can sometimes fall through the cracks. It questions whether the help given to such families is adequate or truly helpful. It shows the ways in which traumatized children can cope through fantasies, and even helps Hillary to become her own person, in a very weird way. What makes the book so unsettling is that nothing is neatly resolved. The reader is left to grapple with difficult questions on her own, and to come to her own conclusions, whatever they may be.

Kids can read this book on their own, but I think this is one of those stories that really needs to be shared and discussed so kids can process what they have read. After finishing the book, I didn’t even want to walk around my own house in the dark. It’s that kind of disturbing and eye-opening story, and I think kids who read it will have a lot of their own questions and worried thoughts upon finishing it. It’s a beautifully written novel, and in some ways quite similar to my favorite book by E.L. Konigsburg, Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth, but a feel-good beach read it is not. Recommend it to those strong upper elementary readers looking for a challenge, and to fans of horror stories. Also check out this discussion between the author and a group of students, at her website, which sheds at least a little bit of light on the story. 

I borrowed Afternoon of the Elves from my local public library. A new edition is also available from Open Road Media via NetGalley.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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Miracles on Maple Hill. by Virginia Sorenson. 1956. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. 180 pages. ISBN: 9780152545581

Miracles on Maple Hill was published in 1956, and it was the winner of the 1957 Newbery Medal. As the book opens, Marly and her family are headed to Maple Hill, a rural area of Pennsylvania where Marly’s mother spent her childhood summers. Though at first it appears to be a happy family vacation, the truth is that Marly’s father is suffering the psychological effects of the time he spent as a prisoner of war. At home in the city, he is angry and irritable, jumping at every little thing and sometimes even mistreating his children. The family is coming to Maple Hill in the hopes that the country lifestyle will help Marly’s dad start to heal. Over the next year, Marly gets to know wonderful people - Mr. and Mrs. Chris, Harry the Hermit, and Margie - and she experiences all the miracles Maple Hill can offer, from maple syrup and wildflowers to the slow recovery of her father’s mental strength.

In contemporary children’s books, there is a tendency to dwell more heavily on the darker side of life. Nowadays, for better or for worse, we trust kids to deal with the harsh truths of life - abuse, poverty, divorce, death - and many books describe these situations in detail, evoking empathy from readers and encouraging them to feel all the associated emotions, good and bad. This book handles the pain of Marly’s dad’s experiences in a more detached way, which I think is an interesting and effective approach.

Marly is about ten years old, and what we know of her dad’s condition is filtered through her point of view. It seems likely, given the personality of her mother, that Marly would be protected as much as possible from the darkness of her father’s experiences. Because of this, the reader is really only shown those few frightening moments of anger that Marly has actually witnessed. Throughout the book, both Marly and her brother react to their father nervously, with lots of concern over how he will respond to them, but the reader isn’t subjected to the experiences that made them feel that way. I can only assume this was a conscious decision on the part of the author, and my guess is that it was a decision made to protect young readers. Though some kids do certainly like to read the gory details, or maybe even need to read them to feel validated, other kids are more sheltered, like I was, and this book strikes a great compromise between perfect happiness and interesting storytelling.

The other remarkable thing about this book is its descriptions of country living. I borrowed this book from my urban library system, where kids don’t often run into wildflowers, wild mushrooms, or sap from maple trees. If they read this book, though, they will feel as though they have spent a year on Maple Hill right alongside Marly. The descriptions of everything Marly sees, feels, and tastes during her year of visits to Maple Hill are beautiful, and the author uses just the right details to transport the reader through the beauty of the different seasons. She ties all of this wonderful information about the natural world in with Marly’s relationship with her brother, Joe, and both kids’ relationships to their Maple Hill neighbors, and it is the combination of character and setting that drives the story forward.

This is very much of a book of the 1950s. There are lots of references to very rigidly defined gender roles, where Joe is permitted many freedoms, but Marly must stick close to home, and where it is surprising when Marly’s father learns to cook, or when her mother drives the family car. At one point, Marly’s mother actually apologizes to Marly’s teacher because Marly is more of a tomboy than the other girls at her one-room schoolhouse. These references are among the few moments in the story that make it seem more historical than contemporary. There are also a lot of references to Marly’s father’s time in World War II, which could date the book, but given that our country is also at war today, it is possible that contemporary kids could have a parent in a similar situation to Marly’s father and find some hope and meaning in his recovery.

I really enjoyed this book, though it’s probably best enjoyed when we think of it as “old” realistic fiction rather than historical fiction. The story reflects the values of the time, but they have not been filtered through contemporary thinking. Two very recent novels about similar subjects that might draw interesting comparisons are The Second Life of Abigail Walker by Frances O’Roark Dowell and The Bell Bandit by Jacqueline Davies.

I borrowed Miracles on Maple Hill from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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A Ring of Endless Light. by Madeleine L'Engle. 1980. Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. 324 pages. ISBN:  9780374362997

My feelings about the last three Madeleine L'Engle books that I have read have ranged from lukewarm disinterest to all-out hatred, so I was almost nervous to pick up another one. Thankfully, though, A Ring of Endless Light, published in 1980, made me fall in love with L'Engle's writing all over again. Vicky Austin is almost sixteen, and she is struggling to make sense of death. A family friend, Commander Rodney, has died trying to save a drowing teen, and Vicky's own grandfather is dying of leukemia. Vicky also spends time with Zachary Grey, the troubled young man she first met in The Moon By Night, Adam Eddington, who works with her brother John at a marine biology research station, and Leo Rodney, whose feelings for Vicky are far more romantic than hers for him. As her grandfather's condition deteriorates, Vicky comes to terms with the idea of death and works to sort out her feelings for each of the young men who desire her affections.

Because I have such an affinity for realistic fiction, it comes as no surprise that my favorites among the L'Engle books I've read have been the ones about Vicky Austin and her family. My love for this particular book, though, extends beyond just a genre preference. There is plenty of science fiction in A Ring of Endless Light, including references to farandola, discussions of Adam's role in Dr. O'Keefe's regeneration research, and the discovery that people can communicate with dolphins telepathically. The difference between this book and A Swiftly Tilting Planet or A Wind in the Door is that I connect better with Vicky's emotions than with Meg's or Charles Wallace's. Meg and Charles Wallace always feel like characters, whereas Vicky sometimes feels like a real person who has the experiences of a real teen.

There were moments in this book where I felt it was necessary to suspend my disbelief a little bit. It seemed unlikely to me that several people connected to one family would die or come so near to death in such a short time. I also thought the way Zachary Grey was brought into the story was maybe a bit too coincidental, and I wondered if it was necessary to create a connection between him and Commander Rodney's death. Even so, the way these events are described, and the way they work together to further the plot, is exceptional. Whereas in A Swiftly Tilting Planet, I felt that L'Engle made all the connections between the characters too obvious, A Ring of Endless Light is written with more subtlety, and even if the events of the story are unlikely, the overall narrative is more believable.

I am nearly finished reading L'Engle's Murry/O'Keefe and Austin books. Next up is A House Like a Lotus, and after that, only Many Waters, An Acceptable Time, and Troubling A Star are left.  I'm hoping these last few books will be as enjoyable as A Ring of Endless Light, or at least not as dismal as A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

I borrowed A Ring of Endless Light from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Dump Days. by Jerry Spinelli. 1988. Little, Brown and Company. 159 pages. ISBN: 9780316807067

Best friends JD and Duke spend their summer days digging in the dump for possible treasures, terrorizing rats and dodging bullies, interacting with various quirky neighbors, and wishing for enough money for a zeppoli, an Italian ice, or a comic book. One lazy afternoon, the boys map out a perfect day, filled with all the things they love. They’ll save every penny, look for ways to make extra cash, and by the end of the summer that perfect day will be theirs. With parents, bullies, siblings, and neighbors to contend with, however, their best laid plans go swiftly awry, making them question not just their plans but even their faith in each other.

Jerry Spinelli’s books are about very different subjects and use very different tones of voice, but they all have one thing in common: heart. Spinelli understands his characters and their relationships in such a fundamental way that these fictional kids seem very real, and they stick with the reader long after the story ends. In the case of JD and Duke, it is their friendship that comes so vividly to life. The two boys are different - one is Protestant, one is Catholic, one has a big family, one has a small one, one has more permissive parents, one’s parents have stricter rules - and yet what brings them together is a desire for simple things that are just out of a kid’s grasp - snacks, comics, and video games. Though the journey toward the perfect day is the focus of the plot, the real story is in the interactions between the two boys, and in how they relate to one another with regards to their goal.

Another strength of Spinelli’s writing is how he portrays setting. Not only could I imagine the dump and the neighborhood where JD and Duke spend their time, I could also picture and hear their neighbors and family members. In this book, as in Jake and Lily and Loser, Spinelli evokes a whole world of childhood that feels very real and believable. The boys’ issues with bullies and interactions with their own siblings are some of the most memorable portions of the book. I especially like the way Spinelli gives characters little quirks, like the toddler who likes to go outside without clothes and the bully who has to wear a special shoe because one leg is shorter than the other. These are the kinds of things notice about each other, and the tiny details that resonate with readers.

Dump Days is the rare book on the shelf at my library that looks old and outdated, but is checked out almost all the time, especially in the summer. Though it is out of print right now, I don’t see any reason why a contemporary reader couldn’t pick it up and enjoy it. Readers who loved Maniac Magee will want to read this one, too, because it is set in the same town, and the legend of Maniac Magee is mentioned in passing by JD as he narrates the story. Like most Spinelli stories, this is also a great one for dealing with bullying and discriminations, as both issues become important to the story.

I borrowed Dump Days from my local public library.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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The Hundred Dresses. by Eleanor Estes. 1944. Harcourt Children's Books. 96 pages. ISBN:  9780152051709

The Hundred Dresses is a short realistic fiction novella by Eleanor Estes that received a Newbery Honor in 1945. It is a story, based in part on the author’s childhood, about the impact of bullies. Wanda Petronski is a poor Polish-American immigrant, who comes to school each day in the same clean but shabby blue dress. One day, when her classmates tease her for her unusual last name and style of dress, Wanda claims to have one hundred dresses all hanging in her closet From then on, Peggy and her best friend, Maddie, ask Wanda every day how many dresses she has, punishing with their taunting her for what they know must be a lie. It is only when Wanda’s family leaves town to escape the cruelty of their neighbors that Maddie - who is the story’s main character - feels a sense of remorse for what she has done.

Though some things make it clear that this story is not set in the present day, for the most part, I was amazed at how well this book holds up 67 years after it was first published. Entire lifetimes have come and gone since the book was first written, and yet kids still need to learn the same hard lessons. The relationship between Maddie and her best friend, Peggy, who leads most of the teasing, reminds me of so many friendships I have read about in children’s fiction. Peggy can be likened to Wendy, who makes whale jokes about Linda in Judy Blume’s Blubber, or even to Jennifer in E.L. Konigsburg’s Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth, who makes demands upon Elizabeth to prove their friendship. Today’s “mean girls,” who appear in practically every middle grade novel about female friendship, all seem to follow in the footsteps of Estes’s Peggy. I tend to think of bullying as a new phenomenon, because we talk about it more nowadays than ever before, but this book reminds everyone - kids and adults - that cruelty has been around for a long, long time.

Just after I finished reading The Hundred Dresses, I read on School Library Journal that the Open Circle Program at the Wellesley Centers for Women has named it the number one best book for Kids’ Social and Emotional Learning. I instantly understood why. Reading books helps kids become more empathetic - reading books about bullying helps kids step into the shoes of both bully and victim and hopefully gets them thinking about why they would not want to be cruel to a classmate. I certainly don’t think books alone will combat the problem of bullying, or provide a complete emotional and social education, but this book is a perfect choice for getting the conversation started and for getting kids to think critically about their behavior. By taking a kid’s eye view of a real-life bullying situation, it gets away from the preachy tone of well-meaning adults and instead give kids the power to make the right choices, and to make amends when they do the wrong thing.

I borrowed The Hundred Dresses from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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A Swiftly Tilting Planet. by Madeleine L'Engle. 1978. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 288 pages. ISBN: 9780374373627

A Swiftly Tilting Planet is the third book in Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quintet. Based on comments here and on Goodreads, I expected to like this book, but I can’t believe how disappointing it was.

It is Thanksgiving, and a pregnant Meg Murry is celebrating the holiday at her parents’ house with all of her brothers and her mother-in-law, Mrs. O’Keefe, while Calvin is away at a conference. The phone rings and Meg’s father receives the news that Mad Dog Branzillo is about to wage nuclear war on the world. Mrs O’Keefe, who is typically not very social, suddenly turns to Charles Wallace, recites an Irish rune, and informs him that he must be the one to save the world from nuclear destruction. Charles Wallace wanders out to the star-watching rock, and meets Gaudior, a flying unicorn who will help Charles Wallace travel through time and go “within” various members of Mad Dog Branzillo’s family. If he can find out where one of them went wrong, he should be able to keep Mad Dog Branzillo from blowing things up. In the meantime, so as not to be left completely out of the action, Meg lies in bed with a newly found dog and kythes with Charles Wallace.

There are so many problems with this book that I find it hard to even summarize it without making fun of it. Some of them are minor - such as the fact that the government would call Mr. Murry to tell him the world’s about to blow up, and he would react so calmly and matter-of-factly, and carry on with Thanksgiving dinner, or the fact that Meg, formerly our heroine, is such a passive part of the plot, lying in bed and watching from a distance. I probably could have ignored just these small issues, but there is a whole host of major flaws that make it impossible for me to enjoy the story on any level.

Time travel, for example, is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Just jump into the wind and let it take you where it wants you to go! A Wrinkle in Time spent time building Meg’s world and explaining how tesseracts operate. To suddenly describe time travel like it’s no big deal cheapens its significance in the first book of the series. I will admit that I’m not naturally a fantasy or science fiction reader and that I don’t like being asked to suspend my disbelief, but this just seems like lazy writing.

Names are also an issue. Every character in Mad Dog Branzillo’s family line has a name that is a variation on someone else’s name from the past. This is obviously meant to highlight the connections between generations, which is interesting, but it takes Charles Wallace, a child genius, nearly the entire novel to figure out that these names are all connected, while I had it figured out very early on. It’s fine to throw in all these connections; it’s silly to assume that the reader won’t notice them, or that Meg and Charles Wallace would need a long time to decode them. The story should not hinge so heavily on a revelation that is right in front of us the whole time.

Even Mrs. O’Keefe’s rune poem started grating on my nerves. Phrases like “the snow with its whiteness” and “the rocks with their steepness” sound very childish, and I had a hard time buying into the idea that reciting these words could have any impact on anything. I understand L’Engle’s desire to connect the natural world to the events and people of the world, but there isn’t enough in the story to explain how steepness, whiteness, deepness, or starkness actually help Charles Wallace. This rune is apparently based on an Irish prayer called St. Patrick’s Breastplate, which makes me wonder why L’Engle didn’t just use the original instead of writing her own.

I am so glad to have this book behind me. Thank goodness this isn’t the first L’Engle book I ever picked up, and or it most assuredly would have been my last. A Wrinkle in Time is a wonderful book, but so far none of the others in the quintet have been able to live up to it. I’m very glad that the next book on my list is A Ring of Endless Light. After all this time being irritated by the Murry O-Keefes, I’ll be thankful to be back amongst the Austins.

I borrowed A Swiftly Tilting Planet from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Secret Water. by Arthur Ransome. 1939. Jonathan Cape. 376 pages. ISBN: 9780224606387

After the real-life adventure of the Walkers in We Didn’t Mean to go to Sea, it was hard for me to imagine how Arthur Ransome could continue to write exciting stories about these characters. After all, was not their journey to Holland on their own in a borrowed boat a final exam of sorts, the challenge toward which all their make-believe had been building? Thankfully, Ransome has a bigger imagination than I do, and his eighth book in the Swallows and Amazons series is just as engaging as any of the others. Though the Walkers more or less mastered sailing in the last book, in Secret Water, they become true explorers. Their father drops them off on an island with a blank map, announces they are marooned, and leaves them there with one assignment: to explore uncharted territory and complete the map. Not long after, the Walkers are joined by the Blacketts, as well as a new group of “savages”, the Eels, who serve as guides among the islands and teach the Swallows and Amazons all about human sacrifice.

There are a number of things about Secret Water that demonstrate the development of the characters, especially since the first book. Bridget, who was once known as baby “Vicky” is now a member of the expedition. She’s about four years old, and she constantly reminds her siblings that she is old enough to participate in the same things they do. I think most authors tend to portray youngest siblings like Bridget as annoying tag-alongs who hold everything up and make messes, but Bridget is a formidable little girl, and she has her share of shining moments. Roger and Titty, previously the youngest members of the expedition, are now old enough to venture off on their own and take responsibility for themselves and for Bridget. The spirit of imagination and make-believe is most alive in them this time around, though Nancy also gets excited, especially when it comes time to have a corroboree with the Eels.

Susan is still the mother figure, and she plays that role much more completely when Bridget is around than in the past. John, who has in the past been just as much a part of the make-believe as anyone else, seems more fatherly in this book and also more concerned with impressing his own father. While Nancy worries about blood oaths and sacrifices, and Roger and Titty imagine themselves as Israelites and Egyptians, John focuses on the task at hand. We can see the beginnings of manhood in John, and I wonder whether we’ll see as much of him in the rest of the books of the series. Surely at some point Susan and John will outgrow the games of their childhood. I keep wondering whether their coming of age will figure into any of the stories.

Secret Water is a great follow-up to the adventure of We Didn’t Mean to go to Sea. The story rewards the Walkers’ safe journey home with another, more controlled opportunity to explore their independence and we get to see just how much they all love, admire, and want to please their dad. The new characters - Don, the Mastodon, and Daisy, Dum, and Dee, the Eels - are a lot of fun, and again completely different from Dot, Dick, or any of the Walkers or Blacketts. I was also amazed that Ransome described things like changes in the tide and sailing routes in language that made it possible for me to imagine them and follow along.

As curious as I am about the four remaining books in the series, I am disappointed that I’m two-thirds of the way through it already. I’ve come to really love these characters, and I’ll be sad when I finish the last book. That said, though, I’ve heard that book nine, The Big Six, is a detective story, and I’m really eager to see what that will be like, so I know it won't be long before I jump right into the next one. 

The copy of Secret Water I read for this review is part of my personal household collection.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. by Barbara Robinson. 1972. Harper Collins. 90 pages. ISBN: 9780060250430

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is a book I always intended to read as a kid, but then never did. Like some of the characters in the story, I was intimidated by the bad behavior of the Herdmans. Me, read a book about kids who smoke cigars? I didn’t think I could do it. What I missed as a middle grade reader is that this book is the perfect embodiment of the true meaning of Christmas.

When the pageant director falls ill, the narrator’s mother steps in to take over. The Herdmans, who have typically been left out of Sunday school activities in the past, decide they want in on the pageant this year, and they sign up for all the major parts in the production, without even really knowing the story of Jesus’s birth. Though most people are horrified by the involvement of these badly behaved kids in an important religious event, the Herdmans surprise everyone by being so willing to engage with the Christmas story and its various significant figures.

I think kids and adults alike are equally guilty when it comes to passing judgment on others. My disapproval for the Herdmans kept me from even reading the book as a goody two shoes kid, and the main character and her friends worry about what will happen to their pageant if kids like the Herdmans get involved. What this story does for us is slowly peel away the layers of our disgust and concern and show us the good at the heart of the Herdman kids, and the way their sincere and honest way of interacting with the world actually makes them better suited to playing out the Christmas story than almost anyone else.

Like the Horrible Harry books, this story shows us the “bad” kids through the eyes of a “good” kid, but though the story focuses on the actions of the Herdmans, it’s the “good” narrator who is changed and enlightened by the story itself. Barbara Robinson’s writing style makes this type of storytelling look easy, and I was amazed by how easily and willingly I was carried along by the events of the story. The ending, where they finally perform the pageant all the way through from beginning to end, has some of the funniest and most poignant moments of any children’s novel. The Herdmans don’t know much about Christmas, but we all learn something from their learning process.

Though The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is now 40 years old, it still holds up really well, and it’s the perfect book to make a part of your family’s Christmas traditions.

I borrowed The Best Christmas Pageant Ever from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle. 1973. Square Fish. 240 pages. ISBN: 9780312368593

I have to be in a certain mood to read L’Engle’s books about Meg Murry, which is why it took me a while to get to the next one on my list, A Wind in the Door. The story opens with one of the most memorable lines in children’s literature: “There are dragons in the twins’ vegetable garden.” Charles Wallace is indeed seeing strange creatures in the garden, but that’s the least of his troubles. He’s also being bullied at school where the principal, Mr. Jenkins, fails daily to protect him, and he might be suffering from a disease of his mitochondria, which are endangered by something called farandolae. Meg is very worried about Charles Wallace, so when she is approached by a being named Blajeny, who calls himself a Teacher, and assigned to be partners with a cherubim (a singular being so large he is basically plural) named Proginoskes in the completion of three tests, she accepts the challenge and follows her new allies on a quest to save Charles Wallace and many others from being unnamed by the evil Echthroi.

I give Madeleine L’Engle a lot of credit for being able to keep all of these strange words, beings, and places straight in her mind, because even trying to summarize her books gets tricky quickly! I was iffy about this one at the start - it’s difficult for a realistic fiction reader like me to settle into worlds where large dragon-looking cherubim appear in gardens! Once I did get my bearings, though, I enjoyed reading of Meg’s high-stakes struggle against evil. The concept of naming someone or something in order to show one’s love for it really appealed to me, as did the separation of acts of love from feelings of love. The concept of kything as a means of silent communication is also interesting, and I like the way it adds this subtle layer of closeness to Meg’s relationship with Calvin.

At times, I felt that this book really came close to being too mushy and emotional, but for the most part it walked the line fairly well between too much and just enough. As in A Wrinkle in Time, it’s hard not to consider the religious themes and implications of the story, and I appreciate L’Engle’s willingness to continually take on those big issues. I’m also hugely impressed that she could do so much with a setting - Charles Wallace’s mitochondria - where everything is immersed in darkness and no one moves physically. Everything that happens in the characters’ minds is so interesting and dramatic, and much happens even when it seems like almost nothing is happening. I enjoyed it, too, when L’Engle starts writing in free verse toward the end of the book. I may be a bit more cynical now than I was as a teen, so my reaction was a little bit snide after a while, but I know my fifteen year old self would have related strongly to those sections.

I have read A Wind in the Door once before - in library school- and I remembered it as the best book of the Time Quintet. I didn’t have the same reaction this time, but I did like it, and I plan to continue on with my L’Engle reading list until it’s done. Next up is a story featuring Polly O’Keefe, Dragons in the Waters.

I borrowed A Wind in the Door from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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Hello... Wrong Number. by Marilyn Sachs. 1981. Scholastic. 97 pages. ISBN: 9780590327283 

Hello... Wrong Number is a short and sweet paperback YA novel originally published in 1981. A teenage girl named Angie intends to call the object of her affection, a boy named Jim McCone, but when she dials the wrong number, she gets a different Jim. In a series of phone calls, Angie and the wrong Jim become quite close, sharing confidences and saying things to each other they’d never say to anyone else. But they have never met face to face. Will Angie, who can be quite shallow about boys, still like Jim if he doesn’t look as she imagines?

I chose to read this book because it reminded me of a book I loved as a kid, Phone Calls by R.L. Stine. Like Phone Calls, Hello... Wrong Number is a story told almost exclusively in dialogue between the main characters. Though the story is very lighthearted and easily zipped through in one sitting, the dialogue is well-written, bringing the characters right off the page. Both characters’ voices are very strong, and I could almost hear the way they might speak to one another.

Most kids have cell phones now, and caller ID makes it pretty easy to avoid wrong numbers, so it’s hard to say if today’s teens would relate to the story or not. I certainly don’t think most high schoolers in 2012 would name KC and the Sunshine Band as their favorite band, or compare a boy they like to Elton John, as Angie does. Still, Marilyn Sachs is a great author for fans of Paula Danziger, who also always wrote short, fun, romance novels for younger teens. Hello... Wrong Number would work well in a lesson about writing dialogue, and I think it would be fun to hear kids talk about how phone calls have changed since their parents were kids. It's also just a great escapist read for anyone missing the 80s!

I purchased Hello... Wrong Number from my local used book store.
 
For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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The Hobbit. by J.R.R. Tolkien. 1965 (1937). Ballantine Books. 287 pages.

The Hobbit is one of those books I have always intended to read. As a kid, I was deeply disturbed by watching part of the Rankin-Bass movie, and that put me off the entire thing basically until the Lord of the Rings movies came out. Then I was suddenly all about Frodo, and I got very into the whole Tolkien universe. But I still didn’t read The Hobbit. Now, once again, I’m ashamed to say that I’m being motivated to read a book because its movie is coming out. I hope that it saves some face to say that the copy I read was the authorized paperback edition from 1965 and not a 2012 edition with the movie cover, but I’m still pretty ashamed that it took me this long to read a classic.

The Hobbit follows the adventures of reluctant traveler Bilbo Baggins, who is selected by Gandalf to accompany an expedition of dwarves who plan to fight a dragon and win back the treasure they lost years and years ago. As compared with Lord of the Rings, this book is much less dark and less violent. Bilbo does find himself in dangerous situations fairly often, but even when others around him perish or are injured, he is spared the majority of the pain and suffering. I imagine this is because The Hobbit is intended as a children’s story, and that Tolkien wanted to incorporate excitement and adventure, but without scaring his audience so much they’d want to stop reading.

I enjoy Tolkien’s writing, and even read sections of this book aloud to myself in my empty house to just really appreciate the words and descriptions that he puts together. I was disappointed, though, that this book lacked a lot of the high stakes and subtlety of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I had gotten the impression somehow that there were more obvious connections between the two stories than I actually found. It was fun to read about Bilbo’s first encounter with Gollum, wherein he comes to possess the ring that causes all that trouble later on, but I had always imagined that Gollum had a huge role in The Hobbit, and in reality he gets just one chapter. I was thankful for the other characters I got to meet, however, especially Beorn, the large man who can morph into a bear. (He reminded me somewhat of Tom Bombadil, one of my favorite LOTR characters, and I can only hope that they won’t cut Beorn from the film the way they did Tom.) I also have the same affection for Gandalf that I do for Albus Dumbledore. I sighed in relief each time he reappeared in the story, and his relationship with Bilbo is very touching, especially knowing what it will be like in the future stories.

I’m not a fantasy reader, I always say, but The Hobbit is one of those books that everyone should read, regardless of the genre you feel most comfortable with. It’s a bit dense for inexperienced readers to enjoy alone, but it would be a perfect family read-aloud. Kids like stories about defeating dragons, and Bilbo is child-like enough that kids can imagine themselves in his shoes and follow him on his journey. The nice thing about fantasy titles, too, is that they don’t get dated as quickly as realistic fiction titles. The world Tolkien has created can always exist in our imaginations, without the worry that some modern technology will change the way we think of it.

Anyone taking a child to see the first The Hobbit film this holiday season should definitely share the book with that child first. Kids who love Ranger’s Apprentice, Harry Potter, Last Apprentice, and Septimus Heap will feel right at home in Bilbo’s world, but many other types of readers can find something to love about it as well.

The copy of The Hobbit I read for this review came from my bedroom bookshelf.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Fourth Grade Rats. by Jerry Spinelli. 1991. Scholastic. 86 pages. ISBN: 9780590442442

Though Fourth Grade Rats has recently received a makeover in time for the publication of its prequel, Third Grade Angels, it’s actually an older title, which was first published in 1991. While Third Grade Angels focuses on Suds’s attempt to be the most angelic member of his class, Fourth Grade Rats is about his quest to follow his friend Joey’s lead and become a rat. According to Joey, rats say no to their mothers, carry their lunches in bags, not lunchboxes, and they never cry or get scared. Suds tries to live up to all these rules, but he’s so used to being good, it’s hard to change his ways.

The first thing I noticed about this book, sadly, was an error in continuity. In the prequel, which I read just a few days before reading Fourth Grade Rats, Suds meets Joey on the first day of school. In Fourth Grade Rats, though, the boys reminisce about something that happened to them two summers ago on the Fourth of July. For them to have this shared memory, they would have had to meet prior to the first day of third grade. I read a paperback edition of Fourth Grade Rats, with a 1991 copyright date, so I guess it’s possible that the story line has been edited in the 2012 version so that the two books match, but even so, this error is going to be obvious to kids who are reading aged library copies of Fourth Grade Rats alongside their brand-new copies of Third Grade Angels.

Another thing I noticed quickly is that I didn’t like Fourth Grade Rats as much as Third Grade Angels. This surprised me, because I almost always think the original story is better, but in this case, I didn’t think the writing was quite as distinctive in this book as it is in the newer one. Though Suds takes baths in both stories, I thought the effects of the bath on his well-being were described much more effectively in Third Grade Angels. I also thought his crush on Judy, and Judy herself, were more interesting in Third Grade Angels.

All of this is making it sound like I didn’t enjoy Fourth Grade Rats, and that isn’t true. The story is quick, funny, and clever. Parents who worry about stories that glorify disobedience will love the moral, and kids will enjoy the silly things the boys do to prove they are rats. I also enjoyed the illustrations in the particular edition that I read, which were filled with great early 90s fashion and hairstyles like this:


And this:

I think it’s especially hilarious that there was a time in my childhood where we all dressed exactly like that! I also love these illustrations. Though they are apparently not done by the same illustrator, they really remind me of the drawings in the Baby-sitters Club Little Sister books.

Fourth Grade Rats has really stood the test of time, but I think it’s also interesting to note how much Jerry Spinelli has evolved as a writer in 20 years. Fourth Grade Rats was good, but Third Grade Angels is even better. I will definitely recommend both books to my library’s third- and fourth-grade chapter book readers.

I borrowed Fourth Grade Rats from my local public library. 

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Dancing Shoes. by Noel Streatfeild. 1957. Random House. 224 pages. ISBN: 9780679854289

Like Ballet Shoes and Theater Shoes, Dancing Shoes is another novel by Noel Streatfeild about children in show business. The setting for this story is a dancing school run by selfish, demanding Cora Wintle, who calls her students Wintle’s Wonders. Rachel, the main protagonist, is Cora’s niece, and she and her adopted sister Hilary move in with Cora after their mother dies and leaves them orphans. Rachel has no interest in dancing, but Hilary has talent for it, and indeed the girls’ mother wished for Hilary to enroll at the Royal Ballet School. Rachel worries, therefore, that Hilary’s training with Mrs. Wintle isn’t serious enough. On top of that, both girls must contend with the obvious favoritism shown to Cora’s spoiled daughter, Dulcie.

Though I enjoy Noel Streatfeild’s writing very much (and Elizabaeth Sastre’s narration even more), I think this is the weakest of the three “shoes” books I’ve read. The plot structure was very similar to that of Ballet Shoes and Theater Shoes, and the characters weren’t as interesting to me as either the Fossils or the Forbes children. Cora Wintle seemed almost cartoonish in her role as antagonist, and I had a hard time truly buying Rachel’s motivation for preventing Hilary from becoming a Wonder. Characters like Pursey, the girls’ nurse, and Mrs. Storm, their teacher felt like poor imitations of supporting characters in the previous books (namely Nana and Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith). I also grew weary of Dulcie, who probably could have used a redeeming quality or two.

What was interesting was how much more up-to-date this book felt than the previous two. It was published in 1957, the same year as other still-relevant books like Henry and Ribsy by Beverly Cleary and Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat , and aside from a few dated references, it is the kind of story that could still be published today. In fact, girls who read a lot of middle grade fiction would recognize the rivalry between Rachel and Hilary and Dulcie as very similar to the “mean girls” stories written for tween girls here in the 21st century. In that sense, it might be easier to sell some kids on Dancing Shoes rather than the more old-fashioned “shoes” books.

This is, sadly, the last of Streatfeild’s book available in an audio format. I may not have enjoyed this last book as much as the others, but I will definitely miss listening to Elizabeth Sastre’s wonderful voice, which will forever be the voice of all of Streatfeild’s characters in my mind.

I borrowed Dancing Shoes from my local public library. 
For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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Coot Club. by Arthur Ransome. 1934. David R. Godine Publisher. 352 pages. ISBN: 9780879237875

Coot Club is a story in the Swallows and Amazons series by Arthur Ransome, but it’s the first one so far not to include a single Swallow or Amazon. This time, the only familiar characters are Dick and Dorothea Callum, first introduced as new friends of the Walkers and Blacketts in Winter Holiday. They are spending their Easter holidays with their mother’s former teacher, Mrs. Barrable, who lives in a boat called the Teasel on a river in Norfolk. Mrs. Barrable has a neighbor named Tom, who is a member of the coot club, devoted to the protection of coots and other birds nesting along the river. Tom’s friends and allies include twin girls, experienced sailors nicknamed Port and Starboard, and the Death and Glories, three rough-and-tumble little boys with a boat of their own. Though Mrs. Barrable expects to spend her holidays painting on a stationary Teasel, she soon finds herself on a sailing adventure, as Tom escapes some tourists he has upset, and Dick and Dorothea finally have a chance to prove themselves as real sailors.

Of all the Ransome books I’ve reviewed so far, this one is the hardest to summarize. So much happens, and there are just so many characters. That’s the remarkable thing about Ransome’s writing that I don’t think I have mentioned yet in my reviews - the sheer number of characters and Ransome’s ability to manage them all. The cast grows with each new story, but every personality is fresh and new, and I never have trouble keeping track of who is who. Not only that, but the characters are described so well, each of them seems almost like a real person, and I still think about the characters long after finishing each book. In this book, the reader really comes to sympathize with Tom, who goes to great lengths to escape the hullabaloos, the rude visitors whom Tom has so angered, and to love Mrs. Barrable, who, like Captain Flint, is more like a child than an adult.

The story itself is exciting because it involves a true sailing trip, more similar to the imagined voyage of Peter Duck than to the short day excursions the Swallows and Amazons make in the other books. Kids become armchair travelers as they read, learning about the wildlife, bridges, and geography of the Norfolk Broads, while also adding some new sailing terminology to their vocabularies and worrying about the hullabaloos. It was also interesting to see the differences in Tom and his friends’ approach to sailing as compared with the approach of the Walkers or Blacketts. The Swallows and Amazons do a lot more pretending than do the Coots, but both groups are wary of adult involvement, and both have enemies real and imagined.

As always, the writing in this book is impeccable, and though I missed my beloved Walkers and Blacketts, it didn’t take long for me to delve into this new segment of Ransome’s world which he so carefully and wonderfully describes. I don’t know who is in the rest of the books in the second half of the series, but after finishing Coot Club, I know I wouldn’t mind running into any of its characters again.

I borrowed Coot Club from my local public library. 

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Sammy Carducci's Guide to Women. by Ronald Kidd. 1991. Penguin. 112 pages. ISBN: 9780140364811

Sammy Carducci’s Guide to Women is a comic novel about the trials and tribulations of dating in the sixth grade. Sammy is the shortest boy in his class, but he makes up for his small size by having a big personality filled with cocky self-confidence. He’s been watching his older brother, and now believes he has all the knowledge necessary to impress the women in his class. The only problem is, the one girl he’s really interested in, Becky Davidson, is the most physically mature girl in the entire school, and he has a lot of competition for her affections.

This book is written by Ronald Kidd, who, nowadays, publishes chapter books like Chasing George Washington and Teddy Roosevelt and the Treasure of Ursa Major, as well as novels like The Year of the Bomb, and On Beale Street. Sammy Carducci was published in the middle of his career so far, back in 1991.

Reading the story felt a lot like watching a 90s sitcom like Saved By the Bell or Boy Meets World, where kids are the main focus and adults play a secondary role. A lot of the “jokes” of this story - Sammy’s height, Becky’s maturity, Becky’s parents’ reactions to Sammy, Sammy’s disagreements with his friend Gus - are common tropes found in a lot of movies, shows, and books from the same time period. Sammy isn’t quite a stereotype, but he does represent a certain type of recognizable character, whose personality is familiar to me based on how much time I spent indulging in 90s pop culture as a kid.

Kidd’s writing reminds me a lot of authors like Gordon Korman, Louis Sachar, and Rachel Vail, who use this same sense of humor to tell stories about early adolescence. Like books by Korman, Sachar, and Vail, Kidd’s story about Sammy Carducci could really appeal to boys or girls, thanks to Sammy’s engaging voice and the high stakes he sets up for himself by wanting to date Becky.

Though Sammy Carducci’s Guide to Women is out of print, a play based on the story can still be purchased from Dramatic Publishing.  I can imagine a play with so many colorful characters would be a lot of fun to perform, and it would be really interesting to see what kind of contemporary spin could be put on the story to bring it up to date.

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The Telltale Summer of Tina C. by Lila Perl. Scholastic. 202 pages. ISBN: 9780590332712
Tina Carstairs is twelve years old, and considers herself a Sad Soul. She and her friends have even formed a club - the Saturday Sad Souls Club- devoted to the improvement of their most egregious flaws. But even though Tina has a twitch that flares up when she’s angry or anxious, that’s not the biggest of her problems. Her mother walked out on the family, moved away, and met a new man. Her father is planning to marry an overly sweet young woman named Rosebud. And Tina’s friends have invited a new girl into their club despite the fact that she doesn’t seem to have any flaws. The only thing that might save Tina’s summer from total disaster is Johann, a sixteen-year-old Dutch tourist she meets in New York City.

The illustration on its front cover and even the blurb on the back of it reduce this book to a frivolous story about a misunderstood adolescent. I realized very early on in the story, however, that this book has much more depth than that. The Telltale Summer of Tina C. is a well-written slice-of-life story about growing up in the 1970s suburbs. Though Tina’s parents are divorced, she is troubled by the idea of blended families, and outright disturbed by the fact that her mother’s new boyfriend does the cooking, while she works all day. Though Tina has some angst - about her twitch and the boys who tease her for it - her life is pretty well sheltered until she has the opportunity to visit New York. The story arc really resembles a coming of age story more than anything else, and Tina is a well-developed, flawed, but lovable protagonist whose emotional experiences are more important than the individual points of the plot.

As I read, I found myself wondering how a twelve-year-old girl of 1975 might react to certain things about this story. Would it seem unusual, or dangerous, for example, for a girl Tina’s age to spend time with a sixteen-year-old boy in a museum, without adult supervision? In 2012, parents would go nuts, I think, imagining all the ways in which an older boy might take advantage of a younger girl, but was society the same way back then? Or did parents feel safer? I also wondered if the underlying discomfort with divorce and remarriage reflected the author’s attitude, or Tina’s, and whether the average reader of this book would have felt the same sense of confusion and dread, or if she would take it in better stride.

I really don’t think a book like this one could be published today. It’s so innocent, and I can imagine a 21st century twelve-year-old finding it tedious and slow-moving. On the other hand, it’s one of the best Apple paperbacks I’ve ever read, and kids who are weary of the darkness of contemporary YA might like to give it a shot. It’s out of print, but copies are available online.

See more posts about this book at Cliquey Pizza: 80's teen book series & pop culture and New York Minknit.  Kirkus’s original review from 1975 is also available here. 

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