Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

I am trying to do better about reading children’s lit in certain age ranges; I usually go to town on my picture books and YA titles, the two ends of the continuum. But — for whatever reason — I don’t read as many beginning readers and chapter books, in particular. So, I’ve been doing some reading lately in each age category (I don’t think I missed any, though — technically — board books aren’t represented here) and figured I’d do a post featuring one title for each one (my YA category, though, features two stellar titles I just finished). So, let’s get to it — children’s literature across the board, from picture books to the two best YA titles I’ve read this year.

Here’s a little gem for you: Hippo! No, Rhino by Jeff Newman, nominated for a Cybil Award in the Fiction Picture Books category. This is a sly, clever, hip, little slip of a book; it’s mostly wordless; and it’s got the look of a picture book that might have been the shizizzle when I was a toddler (in the ’80s — okay, um, the ’70s). Enter the zoo with a baffled zookeeper who doesn’t quite know his animals (and looks not unlike Cheech or Chong) Read the rest of this entry �

Oh, it’s too hard. “Fisherman’s Blues,” anyone? Ah, that takes me back . . .

Anyway, ever heard of the changeling myth? You know you have. And not just when the goblins come and take Ida’s sister away, leaving an ice baby in her place (o yes, I can work Sendak into any review). A changeling is a fairy or hobgoblin who steals into your home, whisks away your young child, and changes place with him or her. It’s an eons-old folk myth, perhaps most famously put to use in W.B. Yeats’ poem (and subsequently, for nerds like me, put to song by the aforementioned Waterboys way, way back in 1988 when I was but a wee sophomore in high school). In Keith Donohue’s The Stolen Child, published this year, this myth is put to great creative use.

Read the rest of this entry �

. . . that foot-binding in the-days-gone-by of China was so painful. I say that at the great risk of sounding dreadfully dingy, but I just had no idea it was so flat-out bloody, even resulting in death for many young girls — oh, and that it served as a source of erotic fetishism for men when the girls became women. Who knew? Not I. When I mentioned to Eisha that I was reading about it, she commiserated, having experienced her own shuddering cringes, I’m sure, when reading about the bone-breaking, blood-tinged foot-binding pain in Donna Jo Napoli’s Bound. I know, I know. It’s pretty obvious if you think about it — that it would bring about excruciating pain. But, I’d never really thought about it or, obviously, read about it. Lisa See describes it with great candor and detail in her latest novel, Snow Flower and the Secret Fan (2005), a book that is marketed for adult audiences but was reviewed by School Library Journal as a great title for YA audiences as well.

Read the rest of this entry �

Wanna play God? Here’s your chance: by entering a simple blog comment, YOU may determine whether or not I finish this book. And you’ve probably never even met me!

Here’s the deal. I started Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan a few days ago, because it sounded like something I’d dig and it got such raving reviews, esp. on other blogs. But… I’m 84 pages in and I’m still waiting for it to grab me. Is it just me? Do I need to give it more time? Will it be worth it?

Here’s what I think so far:

Read the rest of this entry �

Steven Herrick’s By the River, published in 2004, is a beautifully-told novel in free verse. A lovely, lovely book this one is. And I have been wanting to read it since it was first published, but no local libraries had it. Herrick is an Australian literary sensation of sorts, as I understand it, and this book itself garnered many honors in Herrick’s home, including a Children’s Book of the Year Honor Book for Older Readers by the Children’s Book Council of Australia. All of that’s to say that the book is an Australian wonder, but it seems to have stayed there in all its glory a while, mate. But now I have Front Street Books to thank for its Spring 2006 publication here in the States, complete with a new jacket and book design. Finally, I have it in my hands. (And, to give credit where credit is due, I have the honorable Judith Ridge, also a member of the Child_Lit listserv, to thank for recommending the book. She doesn’t know me, but she raved about it on Child_Lit and piqued my curiosity. Besides, she has an informative blog, especially for those who want to keep abreast of children’s lit in a country other than this one).

Read the rest of this entry �

At the risk of sounding like a big ‘ol flake or pathologically worrisome (which I probably am), I must admit that I fear one of those awful, grim catastrophes in my lifetime — whether it be biological or environmental or warfare-related or what-have-you — that will make life not unlike a zombie movie. Rather, the atmosphere will be such. We’ll all be afraid to go out, or — worse yet — simply won’t be able to go out; I’ll be kicking myself for not having stored cans of food and bottled water; and I’ll be pining for the old days of freedom, wondering why I ever took for granted even the uninspired or monotonous days. Total chaos. A total dissolution of the rules of society we agree upon. Hey, it’s not out of the realm of possibility, and I do have at least one other friend who admits to this fear as well. (In fact, when I saw the horror that unfolded for the lower class of New Orleans during the flooding that occurred around this time last year, I thought, this is how they must feel.) I guess when I became a mother, too, these fears intensified, but I digress . . .

Read the rest of this entry �

I always wanted to read this book, published in 2002. But I never got around to it. I finally picked it up a week or so ago, knowing that the five-year anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks was looming. And now it’s just one day away. I can still hardly believe it ever even happened.

911: The Book of Help is sub-titled, Authors Respond to the Tragedy. And that’s just what it is — a collection of twenty-two essays, poems, and short fiction by authors who typically write for young adults with drawings by Chris Raschka (done on the day of the attacks as the second tower fell), all created in response to the terrorist attacks. Edited by Michael Cart with Marc Aronson and Marianne Carus, a portion of the book’s proceeds were given to The Families of Freedom Scholarship Fund. All of the authors and Raschka donated their work. The title of the book makes a seemingly obvious connection between the date of the attacks to the emergency assistance phone number one uses to call for help. (But this terrible irony of the attacks is something that doesn’t always occur to folks right away). The book is divided into four sections: Healing; Searching for History; Asking Why? Why? Why?; and Reacting and Recovering.

Read the rest of this entry �

I could just mention this wonderful book in the picture-books-about-music thread that is going in the comments section of the “Never leave your cat alone” post. A few of us started discussing picture books about jazz, but Eisha also mentioned picture books about the blues, opera, and salsa. So, I could just throw in another comment about Honky-Tonk Heroes & Hillbilly Angels: The Pioneers of Country & Western Music (2006), but then you might not see it. And this is one swingin’ book, ya’ll, that you won’t wanna miss. And, yes, the title of my post is rather lame, as I’m trying to work in a Hank Williams lyric. Humor me here.

Read the rest of this entry �

If you’ve spoken to me at all in the past few weeks, odds are you’ve already heard me mention The Book Thief by Markus Zusak at least once. And if you’ve picked up a newspaper, or a review journal, or glanced at anyone else’s book blog, you’ve probably read at least one review of it. Everybody, everywhere is talking about it. Which is the main reason I’ve been reluctant to talk about it here. But I must. This is that kind of book. It just will not leave me alone. This book does not lie down quietly in the subconscious – it stomps around the frontal lobe and bangs its fists on the inside of the skull. The copy I’ve had checked out for waaay too long has utterly refused to let me return it until I write some of this stuff down. So, okay already…

Read the rest of this entry �

I’m nervous about writing about Samurai Shortstop by Alan Gratz for the same reason I was nervous about reading it – I know the author. Many years ago, Alan and I did time together in the same theatre company, and even though I haven’t seen him in far too long, I still consider him a friend and would have felt really, truly awful if I’d read his very first published novel and didn’t like it. But rest assured, Dear Reader; I would never let a little thing like friendship compromise the integrity of my book recommendations. Believe me when I tell you that my fears were unfounded: the book totally ROCKS.

Read the rest of this entry �