How I Live Now ~ Meg Rosoff

Meg Rosoff’s first novel, How I Live Now, which won the 2005 Printz award, is told by Daisy, a fifteen your old American girl, shipped off to England to live with cousins. Her dad has remarried, and Daisy just does not fit in the picture, with a new baby on the way. She doesn’t like her dad much at this point, so, even though she did not choose to go to England, she’s just as happy not to stay home. But, an important point about Daisy is that she is not happy. And, as I suppose is the case with many books for adolescents and about adolescents: the book tells the story of the character, in one way or another, and his or her journey towards happiness.

Daisy moves in with her aunt’s family, in the countryside (her dead mother’s sister) She turns out to really love these people, almost right off. The hitch is that soon after her arrival, war breaks out, and all hell breaks loose. The story follows Daisy and her cousins and their efforts to deal, in this somewhat post-apocalyptic situation. It’s dark and grim and tense – the book, I mean. Yet, in some ways, their situation is pretty normal, they live and eat (the eating part is kind of important… read the book, you’ll see) and are actually pretty okay, against a fuzzy dark-ish scary background.

As someone who studiously avoids books with scary stuff and violence, I think it says something about this book and the way the story happens that I really loved it. The story of Daisy and her cousins is sharp and clear and vivid, and not so war-like and violent, and the war stuff feels – for the most part – more in the background, and less sharp and clear, and I think that is why I could deal with it. It was actually an interesting device, on the part of the author, the way she left a lot sort of fuzzy, about the war. That’s not to say there are not a few yucky moments, but, by the time they came around, I felt okay about reading them, for some reason.

I would not say that Daisy is a totally loveable character, there is something about her that means you don’t just fall in love with her (she’s no Maniac Magee, a character we all want to either be, be best friends with, or be the parent of…). But, she’s interesting and compelling and soon after the story begins, you do find yourself really wanting to know what is going to happen to her, how it will all turn out for her.

Margaux with an X - Ron Koertge

This was my second book by Ron Koertge – the first being Shakespeare Bats Cleanup. When I began reading, I was not at all sure I was going to like the book. It just had a sort of negative feeling for me, and I was not totally pulled into it. Perhaps I had too high expectations, having liked Shakespeare Bats Cleanup so very much. But, I liked it enough to keep reading, and in the end decided it was a very good read. Not sure I would have persisted if it had been my first Koertge book; but, as things stand now, I am in the market for another book by him, for sometime in the near future.

The story is about Margaux, beautiful, and, we get the feeling – mean. In addition to being mean, she’s also restless and unhappy, and ultimately, the book is about her effort to get past this restlessness and unhappiness, to move beyond it and find something more meaningful and positive in her life. And, in the course of this journey, we also discover that the meanness we sense in the beginning is more of a façade than a reality. Or, we discover that there is much more beneath the surface.

Margaux’s a high school student, in LA, with a set of wacko parents, who she seems to not like at all (and, with good reason, we decide, as we read and learn more about them). She has a close girl friend, and together, the two of them seem like a powerful, mean duo, alternately feared and admired by others in the high school community. What is not so quickly understood about Margaux, but revealed as the book progresses, is that she is smart, and she loves words. I think this is where the book got several degrees more interesting to me (though by this time I was also definitely engaged by the story line). She thinks about and plays with words, and uses sophisticated, obscure, and interesting words.

Example here:

An hour later, Margaux listens to Sara and a couple of her dunderheaded acolytes describe some farcical gymnastics in the inevitable back seat. p. 110

When I realized this, I then was suddenly able to make the connection between this book and the other one by Koertge. It’s not just Margaux who cares about words, it’s also Koertge. Now, yes, sure, all authors care about words. But, for some more than others, this is a driving concern, a central feature of their writing. While at first I thought these two books – Margaux, told in regular prose, and Shakespeare, written as a series of poems – were stylistically really different, I in the end have come to believe that they are actually very similar, even though their “shape” differs. Words really matter in each, both in the writing – from the author’s end, and for each of the main characters, Margaux and Kevin. [Margaux with an X, while written in third person point of view, is most definitely told through the eyes of Margaux, so it’s her voice and her word choice we are experiencing.]

Last but not least, the book has some suspense/mystery, and some fun relationships between interesting characters (I hesitate to say romance, because I’m not sure that it’s quite the right word, but, it’s something like romance…).

Life on the Refrigerator Door - Alice Kuipers

Based on Katie Rose's Planning Around A Text project for this book, I decided to read it. It's the story of a mom and a daughter, both busy and therefore constantly missing each other (by which I mean they never see each other, though, presumably, at times, they also do miss each other. Though, like most mother-daughter relationships, it has its occasional tensions and flare-ups). So, they tend to communicate by leaving notes for each other on the refrigerator door.

It's a short, sweet, and easy read. But, really, more bittersweet than sweet, as one of the central plot devices is that the mom gets cancer and we see them dealing with it, and their relationship, through their refrigerator door communication.

Yup, for me, it was a tear-jerker. I admit it.

It was a good read, but, pretty solidly in the chick-lit camp, I think I'd have to say.

Interesting point, from a teaching or YA Lit standpoint is that it has been marketed as both adult and young adult lit (just like The Book Thief and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time).

Also perhaps note-worthy is its note-based-structure, that is, its sort of epistolary format. I'm suddenly noticing a lot of these out there, and think it might be something worth exploring more, from a teaching-literature standpoint. There just might be some sort of a fun project in there, waiting to be created.

The Green Glass Sea ~ Ellen Klages

So much available reading material about WWII, and the Holocaust, even within the Young Adult Literature world. Lots of books to pick from, many very well-regarded ones. But, it seems to me that, for the most part, much of the fiction written about this time period is set in Europe, in Germany or other nearby parts. Another line of related books chronicles the Japanese Internment side of the war. I think Farewell to Manzanar is a classic for this [note: I’ve never read this one, and think I should give it a try sometime]; and, a year or so back I read Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata, which also tells the story of a Japanese family in the U.S. during WWII.

The Green Glass Sea, which is billed as historical fiction (and it clearly and successfully is this), [for me, one sign of good historical fiction is that it gets me interested in learning more about that time period, and what was going on at the time], falls into neither of the above categories, but is set in this same time period: WWII. The story takes place in New Mexico, Los Alamos, to be exact. Though, at the time of the story, the place is really only barely coming to be known as Los Alamos. The story primarily follows two eleven year old girls. While they are quite different from each other, they do have one important thing in common: both are the daughters of top notch scientists/mathematicians, called to this place, out in the middle of nowhere, where all the good brains of the time have gathered to try to create a solution to the war.

What a great idea for a story: creating the world of the kids living in that time and place, looking at that event through the eyes of the children who were there at the time, really just living very everyday lives, in a slightly not so everyday place.

The girls, Dewey and Suze, are young, and innocent, though their innocence is not just a function of their youth. The work the people are doing on “the hill,” as it is known, is top secret and while everyone knows they are trying to create a solution to deal with the war, no one is really talking about what they are doing.

From our removed, 21st century perspective, we, of course, have some idea of what they are doing; and this omniscient perspective that we have, compared to the limited perspective the narrators have (while the story is told/written in the third person, it is actually really being told through the eyes of either Dewey or Suze, depending on the chapter) is one of the interesting things about this story. For me, what was also interesting was just getting a little window in to this one specific element of the larger WWII story.

I loved some, though not all, of the characters (which is as it should be and, I think, what the author intended for us), and felt fully engaged by their circumstances and stories. Even though at some level, we know what happens in the end (just like we know that the Titanic sinks, but are still interested in the stories of those on the boat), I was still curious and, as I read, found myself always wanting to know what would happen next, as the story unfolded, and wanting to know what happened “in the end” for these particular people. Really, this might be my favorite book yet, this fall.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian ~ Sherman Alexie

Note: I wrote this to be shared as a book talk, in class. After the book talk, we had a lot of conversation about just how much detail and information a person should share, about a book, when doing a book talk... no definitive answer on this, I'd say. But some people did feel like I shared too much, during my book talk.

The book I want to share with you today is called The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, and it is by Sherman Alexie. Let me just quickly tell you a tiny bit about the author. He is a contemporary Native American author, and up until this book, everything he has written has been for adults, and he has written a combination of both novels and short stories and I think he has also done some film stuff. He has gotten really well known and won a lot of awards for his work, but, I have to admit, this is the first time I have read anything by him.

The book tells the story of Junior, also known as Arnold Spirit. He is a 14 year old Indian kid who lives on the reservation in eastern Washington state. The story is told through his eyes and in his voice. Basically, it is written like a journal that he is writing. He is a pretty funny kid, and he has a great way of telling the story. So, one of the things that, I think, makes this story a good one to read is the voice of the narrator/main character.

So, Junior turns out to be a pretty smart kid, we learn this early on and for whatever reasons we believe him (if you read the book you would have to decide if you thought so, really). we also learn early on, through his descriptions, that life on the rez is pretty bad. People are poor, people drink a lot, people are sad. It is just not that great a place to grow up. [yet, there seems to be happiness, too, and that is one of the interesting things about this book, to me, how there can be both happiness and sadness, such hope and such despair, all at the same time]

Within the first few chapters, a pivotal event occurs, an event which as you read it is, again, this odd combination of funny and sad I just mentioned. At the start of the new school year, Junior accidentally breaks his white math teacher’s nose with a textbook, resulting in him getting suspended from school. I have to reiterate what I sort of said above – he’s a good kid, not a troublemaker, not the sort of kid who usually gets suspended.

[during my book talk, I read a section from the book, here]

The teacher then comes to see Junior, and, in a surprising turn of events, rather than yelling at Junior, he apologizes for all the sins that the white people have committed against the Indians, weeps openly in front of Junior (freaking him out quite a bit) and quietly tells Junior that if he is ever going to be anything or go anywhere, he needs to get the heck off the reservation.

Junior has the wisdom to listen to his teacher’s advice, and, bravely, decides to try going to the white kids school, about 22 miles away from his home. The rest of the story is about what it is like for him to go there, the difficulties he faces, the fun he has, and the way he has to try to navigate two very different worlds and figure out who he is, as a person, a student, a friend and a Native American.

One of the things that is interesting about this book, and that makes it especially fun to read is that there are cartoons, pictures, graphics, throughout. Junior is an artist, who loves to use drawing to make sense of the world as well as to provide commentary about the world, so, his drawings are included throughout, and they definitely add to the story.

You can read more about Sherman Alexie on his website; this is where I learned just how autobiographical this novel really is, which I thought was sort of interesting.

The Rules of Survival ~ Nancy Werlin

I think Katie Rose thinks I am a wimp. A reading wimp, that is. Just want the nice, gentle, sweet storylines. Nothing sad, harsh, scary.

It’s funny. She’s right, of course. The sad, scary, harsh stuff SCARES me – or, is it that the sad scary harsh stuff prompts emotions in me that are scary and hard to handle? (whoa, I’m going all psychology on you now), and I have a desire to avoid it. And, I really did hate The Chocolate War, which WAS sad, scary, and hard. But, interestingly I guess that some of the other things I have read also share these qualities (so many books with dead moms, what’s up with that?), and yet, I read them with interest and even enjoyment. Certainly, you could never argue that The Book Thief was not sad, scary, and harsh. Yet, it was also much more, wasn’t it? (at least some people thought so. I know not everyone did, and that is okay..)

All of this brings me to The Rules of Survival, which I read a few weeks back, and which I was gripped by, and really enjoyed reading. Yet, if I give you the “brief description”, the review, you’ll wonder how I could have read it.

The book opens with a particularly self conscious narrative device, a “cover letter” written by the narrator, explaining what he is about to do: tell, to his younger sister and for her benefit, the story of what happened to them, a few years back, with their crazy mother. At the time he writes this opening letter, Matt says he is 17. He acknowledges that what he is about to do, write their story, is certainly going to be painful, but is something that he recognizes he might need to do not just to share what happened with Emmy, the supposed recipient of the story, but also so that he can actually process, make sense of, and, presumably move on from, the events that happened. There’s a fair amount of foreshadowing built in to that short opening section. Yet, since Matt is now 17, and writing it all down, we know that, in some way, it all comes out okay.

Matt is older brother to Emmy, who is around 5 or so when the story begins, and Callie, who is about 11. He is fiercely protective of both of them (though especially Emmy, and, in many ways, he and Callie band together to protect Emmy), and it is this desire to protect them that much of the story revolves around. They live with their totally psycho and wacked out mom who, interestingly, Matt calls Nikki, rather than “Mom.” My guess is that this is a conscious effort, on his/the author’s part, to create a certain distance or lack of emotional involvement. I think it is the sort of thing that might bother a reader, but, I did not find it troublesome at all.

If you ever felt like you were not the best mom (which I realize most of you have probably not felt, but I have), watching Nikki for a few days will quickly make you re-think that idea. She’s a case. Alternately crazy-fun (taking the kids on day adventures meant to prove her love for them and her “worth” as a mom: in one such instance she rents a jeep [you know, a “fun car”], takes them to an amusement park, and essentially force-feeds the kids cotton candy, so that they can know how much she loves them) and crazy-psycho (violent, irrational, abusive, etc.).


Much of the story hinges on the introduction and subsequent involvement of a stranger, an adult named Murdoch McIlvane. The older kids, Matt and Callie, see him one night when they have snuck out for Popsicles (Nikki’s out on date-night and has left them home alone, locked in). For various reasons, which are made clear as the story unfolds, they take an interest in him, eventually pursue him, and manage to involve him in their lives. Ultimately, what they are looking for is someone to save them. None of the adults in their immediate world are able to help them with the Nikki problem. Matt and Callie have a dad, but he’s only marginally present, and way too intimidated by Nikki to actually help his kids. Likewise, Nikki has a sister, who lives in the same building as Nikki and the kids, but she’s equally unhelpful.

There are some unrealistic things in the story. For me, I find it hard to believe that the above-mentioned adults could be so lame. But, I suppose it’s possible. Also, the kids success in weaving Murdoch in to their world seems contrived, and his staying seems hard to believe. Nevertheless, if you suspend your disbelief a bit, it all works and comes together. In the end, I think what helps is just Matt, who he is as a character, how he narrates the story, and what he learns and how he reflects throughout the process. I found myself just really liking this kid, and wanting to see happened to him (and whether he and his siblings were able to end up in a better place), and I think that was what pulled me through the story with such interest.

The Rules of Survival was a National Book Award finalist.

Shakespeare Bats Cleanup ~ Ron Koertge

yeah, I already posted about this one, but, then, I wrote more of a real "review"/brief description, so, decided to post that, too.

In Shakespeare Bats Cleanup, our main character, Kevin Boland, has been confined to his bed, due to a case of mono. He’s missing both his mom, recently deceased, and baseball: both playing and being with his friends from the baseball team. He has a decent relationship with his dad, a writer, though the fact that the dad is a writer makes Kevin not want to appear too outwardly engaged in or interested in writing.

Nevertheless, as is the case with a number of books I have read recently (Dairy Queen, The Rules of Survival), the story is not just being told in the first person (as is the case of Crispin), but is actually being written by the first person narrator as it is being told (for some reason, right now, I think this is a cool feature…). Furthermore, the writing is an element of the story that is important to pay attention to. In this case, growing out of his boredom, his dad casually handing him a composition book, and his sneaking up and grabbing one of his dad’s books on poetry (just as a kid might furtively squirrel away a Penthouse magazine, Kevin observes), he decides to experiment with writing poetry. The writing (story) that follows is a series of poems, and, as Kevin experiments with poetry, he also reflects on his world: grieving (in a very low level and not mushy way) for his mom, missing baseball and his friends while he convalesces, and providing alternately poignant and funny commentary on adolescence.

This is an easy read, in terms of density, as there is not that much text, basically, a short poem per page, with a few extending over more than one page. While it has some heavy stuff – his dead mom, for one, and his sort of loneliness at being excluded from the team while he recovers from mono – it is, at the same time, a really sweet book, especially when Kevin’s efforts to have some success in the girl department begin to be rewarded.