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Mister Max: The Book of Lost Things by Cynthia Voigt. September 10, 2013. Knopf Books for Young Readers. 400 pages. ISBN: 9780307976819

Max’s parents are actors with a flair for the dramatic, and his father has often insisted that a twelve-year-old boy is more than capable of taking care of himself. Still when both his parents go missing under mysterious circumstances, Max isn’t quite prepared to be left on his own with just his grandmother as an ally. It doesn’t take long for Max to realize how difficult it is to keep enough money in his pockets and enough food on his table. While looking for work, he accidentally gains a reputation as a young man who is able to find lost things. Realizing that people will pay him to locate lost items and solve difficult problems, Max begins to advertise himself as a “solutioner” under the name of Mister Max. While solving problems for others, he also tries to figure out the best way to bring his parents back home.

This historical fiction mystery novel is a huge departure from Voigt’s beloved Tillerman cycle, but it works very well and proves the author’s immense talent. The entire concept of the story is something I haven’t really seen before, and I really enjoyed immersing myself in this new world and getting to know Max, both as himself, and in character as Mister Max. Each of the supporting characters, from the schoolgirl who wants to be Max’s assistant, to the university student Max hires to tutor him, to Max’s librarian grandmother, are interesting people with deep backstories and well-realized roles in the story. I found myself becoming as invested in their problems as in Max’s, and I eagerly read through each chapter, wanting to know how everything would turn out.

Since this is the first book in a trilogy, I was wary from the beginning, because I was sure the book would end on an unresolved note. I was pleasantly surprised, therefore, with the way Voigt wraps up this first installment in a way that keeps the reader interested in the overall story, but that doesn’t make it completely painful to wait for the next book. This book will not ultimately stand on its own, but it does have its own conclusion, where all mysteries except the major one about Max’s parents, are resolved.

Voigt has always been a talented writer, and I have enjoyed the relationships among her characters in her realistic fiction novels. There are some similarities between Max and Dicey Tillerman, considering both kids are left to fend for themselves by missing parents, but Max’s story is more colorful and in some ways more fanciful than anything else Voigt has written. The Book of Lost Things is one of the best middle grade novels I have read this year, and I can’t wait to see where Max’s story will take us in the remaining volumes. Recommend this book to readers in grades 5 to 8 who like adventure, mystery, and history.

I was invited by Random House to read Mister Max: The Book of Lost Things on NetGalley. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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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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Ballet Stars. by Joan Holub, illustrated by Shelagh McNicholas. June 26, 2012. Random House. 24 pages. ISBN:  9780375869099

Ballet Stars is a level one easy reader which is part of Random House’s Step into Reading series. In simple sentences author Joan Holub describes for the reader the process of presenting a ballet recital, from getting dressed and warming up to dancing on stage and taking final bows.

This is a book I think adults can easily dismiss because the front cover makes it out to be just another pink ballerina book. There are so many pink-covered books about ballerinas, and after awhile, it starts to feel like one is as good as another. I was pleasantly surprised, therefore, when the text of Ballet Stars turned out to be nearly flawless.

There are sometimes as few as two words in a sentence, but Holub makes every word count. The story rhymes, which is normally a huge drawback for me, but Holub is skillful at matching up rhyming words that fit the story, rather than just throwing in random words because they happen to rhyme. When the ballet dancers get dressed, the text reads: “Sparkly ribbons. Ballet shoes. Bright white tights. And new tutus.” When describing the dancers’ movements, Holub writes, “Ballet arms. Ballet feet. Toes point out and fingers meet.” Both these excerpts show the strength of Holub’s writing abilities. The words she uses perfectly describe the clothing and motions associated with a ballet recital, and even without the support of the illustrations, these sentences would still evoke strong mental images. Holub even manages to work in some figurative language. There are two similes in the book, when the dancers “Twirl like snowflakes” and “sway like trees.”

The illustrations by Shelagh McNicholas make the book visually appealing, and they give great context for Holub’s writing. I appreciate McNicholas’s decision to include a male ballet dancer in the class, as well as her inclusion of characters from a variety of ethnic backgrounds. I also love the way she drew the dancers’ families and even their piano accompanist on the page depicting the moment before the curtain goes up. It’s one of the few detailed drawings in the entire book, and it provides nice insights into characters who don’t really have individual personalities otherwise.

Kids who are into ballet books will probably take one home from the library with them whether it’s truly well-written or not. That’s just the nature of kids and their obsessions, whether it’s ballet, trains, dinosaurs, or something else. This book really raises the bar, though, and shows what a truly well-written book for beginning readers can accomplish. Girls, especially, will love Ballet Stars, but parents and teachers will be just as thrilled by the learning opportunities it presents.

I borrowed Ballet Stars from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Peanut. by Ayun Halliday and Paul Hoppe. December 26, 2012. Schwartz & Wade. 216 pages. ISBN: 9780375965906

Everyone at Sadie’s new school knows she’s allergic to peanuts. She wears a medical bracelet on her wrist, and a bronzed peanut from her boyfriend, Zoo, around her neck. She promises the nurse she will always have her epi-pen on hand, and she doesn’t buy the peanut butter cookies at the school bake sale. Everyone knows about her allergy. What they don’t know is that it isn’t real. In this forthcoming graphic novel, Sadie learns what happens when a girl desperate for attention weaves a web of lies so thick she can’t find her own way out.

The most outstanding feature of this book, hands down, is the artwork. The illustrator, Paul Hoppe, makes great use of shadow, expression, and perspective in telling the visual component of this story. Though the figures are obviously cartoons and not life-like portraits, they come across as very real, and their different body types and faces reflect the diversity of most large American high schools. I love the way his drawings show the action from different angles - the ceiling of Sadie’s bedroom or the school hallway, Sadie’s point of view as she reads a note from Zoo, or behind Sadie’s computer monitor as her eyes scan internet search results. These different perspectives make the story very dynamic, even when what is happening in the text doesn’t necessarily require a lot of physical movement. I also think it’s great that Sadie’s shirt is colored red while everything else is black, white, and gray. It made it so easy to keep track of her in every scene, and it also just makes the book more visually appealing.

The story itself is also strong at the start. The suspense builds gradually and naturally, and the reader becomes more and more aware of the stress on Sadie as she tries not to reveal the truth about her fake allergy. Unfortunately, I think the resolution comes about too quickly. It is obvious all along that the lie must come out eventually, but the way it happens is predictable and over too soon. The denouement also felt strange to me. Things between Sadie and her mom are resolved way too easily, and I can’t figure out how Zoo’s actions in the final moments of the book relate to his realization about Sadie’s lies. Pacing and plot issues aside, though, the dialogue and characterization are perfect and evoke the everyday details of the high school environment, complete with sexual innuendo and angst.

Peanut seems like a natural choice for readers who have loved Raina Telgemeier’s Smile and Drama, though it is a bit more mature than Telgemeier’s tales of middle school. I think it also compares well to books published by the DC Minx imprint such as The New York Four, Good as Lily, and Emiko Superstar. For other books about bending the truth, check out my Pants on Fire reading list.

Peanut will be available on December 26, 2012.

I received a digital ARC of Peanut from Schwartz & Wade via Edelweiss.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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Love and Other Perishable Items. by Laura Buzo. December 11, 2012. Random House. 256 pages. ISBN: 9780375870002

Amelia is fifteen years old, and she works at a grocery store in Sydney, Australia. Her mother struggles to work, keep the house, and raise Amelia’s little sister, while her father travels for work and fails to pull his weight. Chris is twenty-one years old, and he too, works at the grocery store, which he calls The Land of Dreams. He’s had his heart broken, badly, and in his notebooks he now documents his quest for the perfect woman, as well as his dilemma over what to do with his life after college graduation. Amelia is deliriously in love with Chris. Chris wishes Amelia were older. Can there be any hope for romance between them?

This book is one of the best contemporary YA novels I have ever read. Typically, in stories where the point of view alternates between two or more characters, there is one point of view that I prefer over the other. In this case, both main characters are so compelling, it’s impossible to choose a favorite. I related so closely to Amelia, whose longing for Chris’s affections mirrors the unrequited love of fifteen-year-old girls everywhere. Many times I wanted to shake her and tell her that there is no way someone six years her senior would fall in love with her, but at other times, I wanted it as much as she did. On the flip side, I could understand completely Chris’s desire to be out on his own, to find a woman who will love him, and to stop hanging around a grocery store filled with high school kids. Amelia and Chris represent two ends of an adolescent spectrum, both of which are part of this “young adult” category. I thought it was such a good idea to bring them together in one story, which will appeal to a wide audience, but whose meaning will change depending on the age and experience of the individual reader. If I’d read this book at fifteen, I would have loved Amelia and misunderstood Chris. If I’d read it at 20, Chris would have been the character I loved most, and I would have dismissed Amelia as annoying and immature. Reading it now, at 30, after having lived through both high school and college, my view of the story is more balanced.

Aside from the strong voices, what impressed me the most about this book was the structure. Amelia’s chapters relate events in her life one month at a time. Then we get to look at Chris’s notebook, where he relates some of the same events, and additional ones that matter to him but not to Amelia. While Amelia’s sections feel like confessions directly to the reader, reading Chris’s chapters made me feel like I was eavesdropping, getting the full story without his knowledge. Knowing in every scene that I would eventually get the other character’s side of the story kept me in almost constant suspense, and I loved the way Chris’s chapters often changed my perspective on what happened in Amelia’s chapters, or vice versa. I also thought it was great that Chris had so much more going on his life that Amelia didn’t know about, but that her crush was still so vital to her day-to-day existence.

The Australian setting was also a treat for me. It was neat to experience Christmas as a summertime holiday, for example. I also appreciated that the US edition of the book wasn’t too Americanized, though I know some changes were made, even to the title. (The Australian title is Good Oil.) I was also thrilled by the grocery store setting. I have been trying for years to write a decent story set in a grocery store, but have never been able to get the details right. Thankfully, Laura Buzo nails it.

This is a great YA novel with lots of emotional depth and detail that rings true for the high school experience and the end-of-college experience. There is some language, drug use, and drinking, but nothing too graphic. I’m pretty sensitive about stuff like that, and the only thing that gave me pause was Chris’s cocaine use, mostly because it seemed to come out of nowhere. Literary allusions and discussions of feminism and philosophy abound in Amelia’s interactions with Chris. I bookmarked many references so I could find out more about them later on. Amelia is fifteen, but I hope that doesn’t put off older teen readers, as this is a sophisticated story that deals with many important coming of age issues, from dating and love to family and careers. I truly can’t recommend this book highly enough, and I hope my readers will share it widely with teens they know and love.


I received a digital ARC of Love and Other Perishable Items from Random House via NetGalley.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Not Exactly a Love Story by Audrey Couloumbis. December 11, 2012. Random House. 288 pages. ISBN: 9780375867835

Vinnie is fifteen, and his life has undergone some recent major changes. First, he and his mom move to a new town, leaving behind the girl Vinnie has loved from afar for years. Next, his mom falls in love with his new gym teacher, and decides to marry him. Then, Vinnie starts to get interested in a girl in his neighborhood named Patsy, and he makes an obscene phone call to her house to try to get her attention. Patsy is more intrigued than horrified by the call, and soon Vinnie is calling Patsy every night at midnight and the two teens are telling each other things they’d never tell anyone else. There is just one problem with their late-night friendship. Vinnie, who is also getting to know Patsy during the day, has never revealed his identity as the midnight caller, and he’s afraid if he ever does, Patsy will no longer care for him.

Not Exactly a Love Story is set in 1977, which is what makes possible the anonymous phone calls at the heart of the story. In 2012, with cell phones and caller ID, it’s a lot harder for teens like Vinnie to make untraced phone calls to the girls of their dreams, so I imagine that this is why the author chose to set the story in the past. I hesitate to truly call it historical fiction, as it reads similarly to a lot of contemporary YA books, but some references to pop culture and clothing, along with the phone calls, give it a 70s vibe, even if the time period is not of major importance.

Vinnie is a likeable character from the very first page. This is especially important because he’s so isolated and in his own head for much of the story. Being new in school has made finding friends difficult, so there’s not the usual best friend character for him to bounce ideas off of. His mom and the gym teacher play their supporting roles well, but for the most part, the reader is in Vinnie’s head as he sorts out his phone call persona from his true self. Many sections of the story are simply debates Vinnie has with himself over what to say or do next. Thankfully, these debates are interesting and raise a lot of questions, not just about communication, but about identity and honesty. Vinnie also makes observations about Patsy, the boys she dates, and her group of friends, which are among the best parts of the book. I love the way he calls Patsy’s boyfriend Biff, and refers to one of her best friends as Brown Bunny based on how she looks.

Some story threads seemed to me to be left unresolved. Patsy reconnects with a girl named Sissy early in the book in a scene that felt significant in some way, and I kept waiting for Sissy to reappear again later on in some final twist. This did not happen, and I was left wondering why Sissy was in the story at all. I felt the same way about the girl Vinnie leaves behind at the start of the book. Why bother starting the story there, when Patsy is the girl we’re meant to care about? It’s fine to have a story that doesn’t package everything up neatly, but in this case, I felt these story lines had been forgotten rather than intentionally left ambiguous.

Not Exactly a Love Story will appeal to girls, of course, because of the romance angle, but there’s also a lot for teen boys to relate to. Vinnie is similar to other great male narrators from this year: Guy Langman (Guy Langman, Crime Scene Procrastinator), Sanskrit Zuckerman (Since You Left Me), and Felton Reinstein (Nothing Special). Fifteen year old boys from any time period can relate to Vinnie’s desire to get the girl of his dreams, and they will sympathize better than anyone with the mistakes he makes on the road to getting what he wants.

Not Exactly a Love Story was published yesterday, December 11, 2012.


I received a digital ARC of Not Exactly a Love Story from Random House via NetGalley.

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

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Wedgieman: A Hero is Born. by Charise Mericle Harper, illustrated by Bob Shea. August 7, 2012. 48 pages. ISBN: 9780375970580

Wedgieman: A Hero is Born is a level 3 easy reader from Random House’s Step into Reading series. (In this series, Level 3 is for readers who can read independently, and the back of the book promises engaging characters, easy-to-follow plots, and popular topics.) Though the title suggests comparisons to the Captain Underpants series, I am happy to report that Wedgieman is somewhat less gross than the famed chapter book hero. In fact, Wedgieman starts out as Veggiebaby, then Veggieboy, and finally Veggieman, a superhero who wants to help kids eat their vegetables and stay healthy. (I like to think of him as Captain Vegetable for the 21st Century.) Wedgieman only gets his new underwear-inspired nickname after a mix-up with the letter on his uniform and a run-in with some kids who are fond of toilet humor.

While I don’t necessarily think the plot of this book is the most original thing in the world, I have to say that the telling of the story and the artwork really stand out from other easy readers. Charise Mericle Harper’s sense of humor is perfect for early elementary school students, and Bob Shea’s illustrations give the book the cartoonish feel it needs to draw in superhero fans. Harper makes great use of alliteration early in the book when she describes the shapes Veggiebaby can build out of his food (broccoli bears, spinach spiders, etc.) and again when she talks about the mess Veggiebaby makes while eating (peas in his pants, cabbage on the cat, etc.) Though the story doesn’t give a lot of room for description, Harper works in a few great lines showing, rather than telling us, about things like Veggieboy’s strength. “He held a bus full of chattering grandmas high in the air” is just about the best sentence I can imagine to convey a superhero’s super abilities.

The underwear humor in the second half of the book isn’t my cup of tea, but I know a lot of kids - both boys and girls - who are in that stage right now who will laugh themselves silly when they read this book. I also think there is something appealing about a bumbling superhero character who isn’t as smart or as savvy as the kids around him. That kind of humor works well for this age group, even if I do think the kids’ gossiping and name-calling is a bit mean-spirited.

All in all, Wedgieman is a promising new series sure to appeal to fans of other funny easy reader series like Fly Guy, George and Martha, and Elephant and Piggie as well as to readers who enjoy the Super Friends and other Marvel and DC comics easy readers.

I borrowed Wedgieman: A Hero is Born from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat. 

NOTE: This book was nominated by LoriA for the 2012 Cybils Awards in the Easy Reader/Early Chapter Book category. I am a first-round panelist in this category, but this review reflects my opinions only, not those of any other panelist, or the panel as a whole. Thanks!

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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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The Face on the Milk Carton. by Caroline Cooney. 1990. Random House. 192 pages. ISBN: 9780385323284

The Face on the Milk Carton - the story of a teenage girl who realizes she is a kidnapping victim after seeing her own face on a carton of milk - was published in 1990, and I think I first heard of it just a few years later, when I was in 6th or 7th grade. I remember how popular it was with the girls in my class, even the ones who didn’t ordinarily like books, and I’m sure I read it, though I didn’t have any specific memories of the plot, or of how the ending was resolved until picking it up again recently.

Here’s what I’d forgotten: (If you’ve never read the book, these might be spoilers, but I don’t really like to worry about spoilers for books that are 22 years old.)

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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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 Liar & Spy. by Rebecca Stead. August 7, 2012. Random House. 192 pages. ISBN: 9780385737432

Liar & Spy, the forthcoming new novel from Rebecca Stead, is, in some ways, the complete opposite of When You Reach Me. When You Reach Me has a girl protagonist; Liar & Spy’s main character is a boy. When You Reach Me involves science fiction and historical elements, Liar & Spy is completely contemporary and realistic. When You Reach Me has a pair of old friends who aren’t speaking; Liar & Spy has a pair of new friends just getting to know one another. The two books share one thing in common, however - both feature Rebecca Stead’s unmistakable writing style.

Georges is named for his parents’ favorite artist, Georges Seurat, but most of the kids in his school don’t know that, so they tease him, calling him Gorgeous and generally bullying him until school becomes insufferable. Georges’s family has also just lost their house, and they have had to move into an apartment while his dad finds work and his mom works double shifts as a hospital nurse. Only one exciting thing has happened to Georges: meeting Safer and his sister, Candy. They live in Georges’s apartment building with their free-spirited parents and spend much of their time spying on their neighbors. One in particular, whom Safer calls Mr. X, is a frequent target, because Safer says he smuggles dead bodies out of the building in duffel bags. Georges is drawn immediately into the excitement of spying on a potential murderer, but as Safer becomes more and more reckless, Georges wonders just how far he will be asked to go toward exposing Mr. X’s supposed crimes.

This book is so well-crafted that every character and every place the characters visit, including school, feels somehow magical. Stead chooses such strong, substantial details in her descriptions that the reader can’t help but visualize each sentence. I read this book over several days, riding the train to and from work. Each time I had to put the book down, I would look around dazedly, as though surprised to discover I was not actually living inside the world of the story. When I returned to the story each day, I could feel myself sliding back into the story with ease, eager to absorb every detail.

There are some twists and turns to the plot, with two major mind-blowing reveals toward the end that cause the reader to really reevaluate his/her take on the entire story. Though twists are fun, the more impressive thing is the way in which the mood of the story shifts depending on how Georges is feeling. Georges sees things one way at the beginning of the book, but when his attitude shifts after the events of the story, the very same people and situations look totally different. That kind of subtlety is what sets Stead’s writing apart, and it’s what really pushed me over the edge from a four-star Goodreads rating to a five.

I can’t say that I love Liar & Spy as well as I love When You Reach Me, but it’s not a disappointing follow-up at all. I’ll be curious to see whether Liar & Spy is also recognized by the Newbery Committee; I suspect it will turn up in a lot of this year’s Mock Newbery discussions. Liar & Spy will be available in bookstores beginning Tuesday, August 7.

I received a digital ARC of Liar & Spy from Random House via NetGal

2 Comments on Review: Liar & Spy by Rebecca Stead (ARC), last added: 7/31/2012

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Tahleen said, on 7/31/2012 5:21:00 AM

Thanks for the review—I was wondering about this one. I'm glad it's good!

Betsy said, on 7/31/2012 7:37:00 AM

I loved this book, too! I hope it gets some attention from the awards folks. In some ways I like it better than When You Reach Me, but in other ways not. Hmm...

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On his twelfth birthday, the unnamed narrator of this Gary Paulsen novel receives a lawn mower from his grandmother. Figuring he might make a few bucks, he starts mowing a few of the neighbors’ lawns. Soon, though, he finds himself with more lawns than he can handle and a stockbroker helping him reinvest his money. When all is said and done, he has more money than he ever could have imagined and almost no idea how it all happened.

Though I often think of Gary Paulsen as the author of outdoor adventure stories, I’m finding that his recent comic titles about early adolescence are a lot of fun as well. This one is obviously not very realistic, but it is entertaining as well as educational. Readers become invested (ha ha) in the narrator’s story because it’s so unlikely, and so humorously conveyed, but along the way they also learn basic principles of economics. Some of the concepts will go over younger reader’s heads, but middle school kids might actually be able to learn some real math as the narrator tries to figure out his newfound wealth. Reluctant readers will also gravitate toward the swiftly moving plot and small number of pages.

Fans of Gary Paulsen’s other humorous novels - Harris and Me, Liar Liar, Crush, Masters of Disaster, etc. - will eagerly devour Lawn Boy, as will readers who like the zaniness of Tom Angleberger, Louis Sachar, and Frank Cottrell Boyce (whose Millions would make an especially great read-alike for this book.) Teachers with a need for math-related stories might pair Lawn Boy with The Lemonade War, or any of the other titles on my “Do the Math” book list. There is also a sequel to Lawn Boy called Lawn Boy Returns.

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The Stories Julian Tells. by Ann Cameron, illustrated by Ann Strugnell. 1981. Random House. 80 pages. ISBN: 9780394828923

Julian is a young African-American boy with a talent for spinning yarns. Whether he’s making excuses for eating his mother’s pudding or convincing his little brother, Huey, that cats come from catalogs, he always has a great story to tell, and a dad who appreciates and cultivates his big imagination.

I was surprised right away by how beautiful the writing is in this book. It’s simple enough to be read by a newly independent reader, but it doesn’t sacrifice art for the sake of simplicity. Author Ann Cameron weaves lovely figures of speech in and out of her sentences, and her words project strong, complete images into the reader’s mind. Here’s just one example:

My father is a big man with wild black hair. When he laughs, the sun laughs in the windowpanes. When he thinks, you can almost see his thoughts sitting on all the tables and chairs. When he is angry, me and my little brother, Huey, shiver to the bottom of our shoes.

There are a lot of ways to tell a reader that a character’s father has a strong influence on him, and a strong presence, but this is by far the most appealing way I can imagine. It’s also a very accessible description, even though it’s not completely straightforward. Kids can recognize all of those words, and if they pause to consider them, they can decode the meaning of Cameron’s metaphors.

Another great strength of this book is its dreamlike style of illustration. Julian’s imagination, and his dad’s, seem to consume each of the drawings, bringing elements of the adventures they invent right into their everyday lives. The visual cues provided by the illustrations also help kids to understand the more poetic tone of this book as compared with other early chapter books, which will give them a little more context for understanding Cameron’s style.

This book is so skinny it often gets lost on my library shelves. Now that I’ve read it, I can’t wait to recommend it to my early chapter book readers - especially the boys who need something beyond Magic Tree House and Star Wars.

I borrowed The Stories Julian Tells from my local public library. 
For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.

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Flirting in Italian. by Lauren Henderson. June 12, 2012. Random House. 336 pages. ISBN: 9780385741354

Violet Routledge is shaken when she discovers that she strongly resembles the subject of a portrait hanging in Sir John Soane’s museum. When she learns that the painting was once located in the Castello di Vesperi in Tuscany, she makes the decision to study abroad for the summer, joining a small group of girls who have signed up to study art, culture, painting, dancing, and more under the tutelage of a local Italian woman. The fourteenth century villa where she will live turns out to be beautiful, and the other girls are different, but nice. There are only two things Violet isn’t really prepared for - her attraction to a gorgeous Italian boy named Luca, and the fact that her resemblance to that portrait will put her life in danger.

Flirting in Italian is the first installment in a new trilogy by Lauren Henderson. (She also wrote the Scarlett Wakefield mysteries, which ended in 2011 with Kiss of Death.) I had trouble getting into the Scarlett Wakefield books, possibly because the series begins with a death, but found no such trouble here. I knew from hearing Henderson read a few years ago, that her prose was very poetic, and her kissing scenes extremely original, with not a cliche to be found, but this book really brought those aspects of her talent to the forefront.

The story really bridges two genres. About half the time, it’s a mystery, complete with secret passages and unexpected evildoers. The other half of the time, it’s a romance novel, where Violet tries to reconcile her logical and rational side with the side that desperately wants Luca all to herself. I wouldn’t go so far as to label it romantic suspense, since the mystery and love story aren’t 100 percent intertwined, but the book has that same tone and atmosphere.

For the most part, Henderson does a great job of handling the various cultures and languages that are such a big part of her story. Violet and one her housemates are both English, as is Henderson, so I think their dialogue seemed the most natural and the least forced. The two American characters in the story did seem somewhat stereotypical at certain points, but their accents, too, seemed mostly on point, except for one moment where one of them used the word clever in a decidedly British way. The way Henderson infuses the Italian language into the story, mostly without translating, is also a really nice addition to the atmosphere of the novel. I felt completely immersed in the Tuscan way of life. I think my only issue was the way in which the characters were sometimes compartmentalized according to their country of origin. I wasn’t sure how much of the Italian culture was authentic, and how much was just a stereotype.

This book will delight Henderson’s established fans, but will also appeal to readers who have loved Maureen Johnson’s 13 Little Blue Envelopes, and Stephanie Perkins’s Anna and the French Kiss. It’s also a nice read-alike for some of Sarah Dessen’s books, but only for readers who also like a bit of mystery and suspense.

Flirting in Italian ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, since it is only the first of three planned books, but the end of the ARC already lists the title of the second book as Following In Love i

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