REVIEW: The Graveyard Book

Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book opens with a scene that, in the movies, would leave you holding your breath, popcorn forgotten. It only gets creepier from there, but that's not all. Gaiman is funny, too, and the world he's built for Bod is unique and mysterious. At times it feels like winter breath.

One of the best parts of reading The Graveyard Book is trying to puzzle out all the hints before the end, so I'm not going to reveal anything that's not already on the back cover. Even though an adult can figure out several of the pieces and fit them into place, kids are kept guessing. Not one of the kids in my daughters' book club fit it all together.

What I will tell you is: you'll have fun keeping track of the hints regarding both Bod's guardian and the man Jack. The Indigo Man gave me shivers. Voicing the Sleer made me feel like I was in on a deliciously surprising secret, though I had no idea what it was. The ghouls? The ghouls were great fun to read aloud, in spite of the fact that I can't maintain a fake English accent for more than a few sentences in a row. If that.

I'll also share that Bod's childhood is as normal as the inhabitants of the graveyard can make it; they take their responsibility as seriously as any parents, as any neighbors, as any teachers. Bod has playmates and lessons to fill his days. He has rules to obey. Like any kid, Bod pushes boundaries, gets into trouble, and needs help getting out again.

There is an excellent list of discussion questions LitLovers; the same list is also available on BookBrowse. With a gaggle of tweens in my living room, I try to keep the discussion no longer than thirty minutes, so I didn't use all the questions linked above, especially since several of them lead down rabbit-holes. (When is it okay to cross boundaries? What makes something or someone evil?)

Graveyard Cupcakes
(Headstones were craft foam)

One question that provoked an unexpected response was the first, about Dave McKean's illustrations. Meaning absolutely no offense to McKean, I want to share that none of the kids liked his illustrations. They agreed that the final illustration, of the Grey Lady, was the best, and that the drawing at the end of Chapter Seven made it look like the Sleer enjoyed pizza. Personally, though I can't draw anything beyond stick men and figure-eight puppies, I liked McKean's illustrations. Many of them felt as ethereal as the scenes Gaiman penned, and my favorite was at the end of Chapter Four. But then, I think I loved Liza even more than I loved Bod.

The Graveyard Book is perfect for kids looking for something creepy and fantastical. There's no gore, nothing gratuitous, but plenty of reasons to leave the hallway light on.

Banned Books Week, Belated

Last week was Banned Books Week, and though I was down with a head cold which rendered me mostly incapable of rational thought, I did read Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. 

Persepolis was challenged then banned from the middle school curriculum in Chicago Public School system earlier this year. From everything I read, high school teachers were still allowed to teach it. Last Sunday, as the book lay on my kitchen counter, with crisp corners and an uncracked spine, I thought, I can understand parents of seventh graders wanting to reassurance about the contents of a heavy book before their kids read it, but by high school, kids need to know this stuff. Whatever "this stuff" was, I didn't precisely know. I hadn't read the book yet. 

Now that I have, I can say the thing that struck me most, is that Satrapi is about my age. What does that mean, exactly? 

It means that Satrapi begins her story with the 1979 Iranian Revolution, when she was ten years old. My daughters are ten years old.

It means that in 1984, when I was swooning over the members of Duran Duran, Satrapi was fending for herself in an Austrian Catholic boarding school. And that while I was whining about having to read The Odyssey in verse and writing poetry instead of paying attention during AP American History, Satrapi was devouring essays by Freud, probably in German.

Most of all, it means that there was barely a two-page spread in Persepolis that didn't teach me something, and that in spite of the semester of Middle Eastern history I opted for in college, I know next to nothing. How does something like that happen? I'm still flipping back and forth in the book and Googling events and places to make sure I have the timeline straight for the fifteen years Satrapi chronicles.

I'm not sure if I should feel ashamed of or grateful for my sheltered upbringing. What I am sure about is that most seventh grade kids can handle the contents of Persepolis. Are violence and torture depicted? Yes. Much more than violence, though, Satrapi depicts her struggle to understand, to belong and to thrive on her own terms. What teenager can't identify with those desires?

I see no reason why our middle school students shouldn't read it, discuss it, and let it seep into their psyches. I've already decided to include Persepolis in the history curriculum for Pen and Em when we cycle back around to modern history. They'll probably be in the seventh grade.

What about you? What did you read for Banned Books Week? And what do you not know?

REVIEW: The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

You know those mystery books where you can tell whodunnit before the end of the fifth chapter? Ellen Raskin's The Westing Game is not one of those books.

When I was in sixth grade, I wanted to be Turtle Wexler.* Although Turtle was an afterthought to her parents, she was cool. She played the stock market, snuck into haunted houses, and got away with kicking people. As the oldest of three, sometimes I wanted to kick people. Turtle also slept in a closet years before it was all the rage.

I recommend reading The Westing Game with your child; you'll have fun comparing theories and sharing suspicions. As in any good mystery, everyone has a secret and nobody is entirely who they claim. However, it can be a difficult book to read aloud. Raskin lets you peek into many different minds, and sometimes the point-of-view shifts are sudden. When I read it to my daughters last year, I often had to redo the internal dialogue once I realized it had shifted. That's what I get for trying to give each character a unique voice without reading ahead first.

Safe to look. No spoilers.  :)

It's the disjointed nature of the story, though, that makes it such an exciting read. You know you're not getting the whole story...and also that you are. In spite of the head-jumping, this is Turtle's story and I promise, all the clues are there. But I'm betting you won't figure it out.

*I also wanted to be Harriet M. Welsch, Meg Murry, Mary Lennox, and Lucy Pevensie, but that's another issue.

REVIEW: My Life as a Book by Janet Tashjian

My daughter Emma chose My Life as a Book as her book club selection because like her, Derek only wants to read Calvin and Hobbes or other cartoons. The opening scene is hilarious with Derek's mom sailing over laundry piles as she chases her son, who is determined to avoid even a discussion about reading. Derek is very real: he could be my kid or the boy down the street. Like Calvin at his best, he often asks the questions adults would rather not answer. Reckless and goofy, passionate and clever, Derek sometimes takes things too far, but never out of malice.

Derek's big beef with reading is that he'd rather live all those adventures himself, not hear about someone else's amazing experience. As it stands, he's facing a long, boring summer with the required reading booklist when his best friend Matt heads off to Cape Cod and Derek gets sent to Learning Camp. The summer turns out better than expected as Derek gets caught up in solving a decade-old mystery and finds friendship in unexpected places.

The illustrations in the margins of My Life as a Book further personalize Derek--who clearly has a good sense of humor--and liven up reading for kids like my daughter. As we read, we scanned the sketches in the margins and looked for the corresponding words on the page. Emma had an easier time staying engaged in the story knowing there would be two or three breaks from the text, especially when reading on her own.

During our book club discussion, the kids pointed out that the comics Derek prefers have something in common with camp counselor Margot's visualization technique: they both make reading more accessible to people who are stronger visual than verbal learners.

The verdict? We aren't waiting to put the sequel on next year's book club list: we've already ordered it. 

REVIEW: The Cricket in Times Square by George Selden

I never read George Selden's The Cricket in Times Square as a kid, but I wish that I had. First published in 1960, Selden's book may not be a modern kid's first choice, but it's a sweet story about friendship, loyalty, and integrity. Chester Cricket finds himself in New York City because a liverwurst sandwich proved too scrumptious to pass up. Once there he is rescued by Mario, whose family runs a small newsstand in Times Square Station, then befriended by Tucker Mouse and Harry Cat. Mario adopts him as a pet, even procuring a cricket cage from a shop in Chinatown.

There are lessons in friendship (New York City cats and mice have worked past the age-old rivalry), integrity (Chester refuses to abandon the newsstand after an accident that will surely be thought his fault), and loyalty (Harry and Tucker help Chester fulfill a deep longing, even though it means they may never see him again).

Adults may be uncomfortable with the linguistic caricature of Mr. Fong and the fact that Mario seems to work a lot of late night shifts on the weekends, but these are excellent discussion points. How do modern authors deal with foreign accents? Why is Mario, an elementary-level student, working until past midnight on Saturdays? A little exploration of child labor laws and cultural stereotypes can lead to a lively discussion and an excellent opportunity for children to practice their critical thinking skills. It is the combination of weighty discussion material and positive lessons in The Cricket in Times Square that makes it a superb choice, especially for a kids' book club.

REVIEW: The Emerald Ring by Dorine White

The Emerald Ring (Cleopatra's Legacy), by Dorine White, opens with the coolest dream sequence I've read in a middle grade novel. Dreams and fear are big issues for Sara Bogus. Sure, she's starting middle school and that's enough to scare anyone, but Sara doesn't have the kind of nightmares where you show up to math class in your underwear. Sara's dreams are linked to the ancient, powerful ring she found in her grandma's attic--and someone else is after it. To make matters worse, Sara is pretty sure she's losing it. How else can she explain hearing voices that seem to come from nowhere?

Throughout the book, Sara's dreams become more intense as her connection to the magic relic deepens. Sara, her best friend Heidi, and their new friend Kainu work together to uncover the ring's past. They turn to an expert, fortune-teller Angela, to help Sara learn to master the ring's intense power. In the process, Sara finds the inner confidence she'll need to survive her encounter with the dangerous thief and maybe even middle school. 

The Emerald Ring was a fun book. White's characters are well-developed: her tweens are sufficiently reluctant to confide in adults, but the adults are responsible and concerned. I was glad to find the dialogue between Sara and her friends fresh and modern, but stopping short of sounding like a sit-com. Although the subtitle "Cleopatra's Legacy" and the details surrounding that legacy leave plenty of room for the author to build a series, Sara's story was satisfying and complete.

Review: Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh

Harriet the Spy picks me up and dumps me right back into the desk I sat in during the sixth grade. I never had a nanny and I couldn't have guessed which borough was which in New York City, but before I finished the story, I had my own notebook.

Harriet, a precocious eleven-year-old, wants to be a writer so she spies, writing down everything about everyone. Her spy route involves climbing onto roofs, peering through windows and even sneaking into dumbwaiters to observe the private lives of people she finds interesting. The people on her spy route are all alone, as Ole Golly is alone and Harriet is alone. It's easy to see the emptiness around Amanda K. Plumber and Harrison Withers--but even the Robinsons, who fill the hole in their life with extravagant, often frivolous items, and the Dei Santis, who orbit one another without ever colliding in a meaningful way--are isolated from those around them.

Compounding her violation, Harriet makes biting criticisms about her subjects. As myopic as she is, Harriet understands neither her transgression nor that the judgments she's made of others apply equally to herself. Throughout the book, Harriet continues to spy--first out of habit, then out of an intense desire to know what people are saying and doing about her.

Ole Golly tells Harriet to always be honest with herself in her writing. What Harriet needs to learn, however, is when honesty is more harmful than a lie. Harriet learns to take responsibility for the contents of her notebook but more importantly she learns how to repair some of the hurt she has inflicted. Ole Golly could have fixed it, and indeed she is instrumental in Harriet's eventual solution and growth, but first Harriet must struggle for weeks, the butt of classroom pranks and as a stranger to her parents. It is only by standing alone that Harriet is able to step into another person's shoes.

Final Note: I feel Harriet the Spy has as much to offer parents as it does children. Most of the Welsh's discomfort stems from the fact that they do not know Harriet well. They flounder and focus on the tangible but ultimately recognize the need for--and seek--assistance. As parents, it can be frightening to admit when we cannot help our children. Sometimes, just being there with them and rolling around on the floor like an onion is not enough and we need a trained, objective observer.