What I Read in February

Okay, this is getting embarrassing. Like January, I somehow managed to only read three books in February. What is wrong with me? In my defense, I spent a big chunk of the month reading a book for book club (Unmentionable: The Victorian Lady's Guide to Sex, Marriage and Manners by Therese Oneill), but I'm not including it here; I only read half of it because the style grated on me after awhile, plus I didn't appreciate some of the content.

So here are the three books I actually finished:

1. The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey
Some books are extremely engaging and entertaining when you're in the middle of them, but after you finish, you find yourself liking them less and less each time you think about them. Other books are harder to connect with when you're reading them, but the longer you're apart from them, the more you love them.

I can already tell this book is going to be the latter scenario for me.

That's not to say I didn't like it when I was reading it. I definitely did--the writing is pristine and stunning, and the Alaskan wilderness is a perfect backdrop for winter reading--but the plot was a little slow-moving. I didn't fly through it but had to hunker down and really commit to finishing it.

But since finishing it, I'm finding my esteem gradually rising. It's hard to explain, mostly because it makes it sound like I didn't enjoy the actual act of reading it. It's just that I love it so much more now that it's over, and I'm beginning to see that it wasn't just a good story but a masterful retelling of a quiet and heart wrenching fairy tale.

It has its roots in the Russian fairy tale, "Snegurochka" (the Snow Child). But it's set in the early 20th century on a wild and often times harsh Alaskan homestead. I loved what Eowyn Ivey said about it in an interview: "I found that the earthy, often violent realities of homesteading created wonderful texture contrasted with the ethereal elements of the snow maiden." And that's exactly how I felt about it. There's this part of it that's very physical and tangible and this other part that keeps slipping through your fingers in an other-worldly fashion.

But the real takeaway for me was this: "We are allowed to do that, are we not Mabel? To invent our own endings and choose joy over sorrow?" I had a feeling from the beginning that the ending would be, at best, bittersweet, and, at worst, tragic. While I won't spoil what happens, I will say that I kept thinking about this phrase as I was reading, and I realized that in spite of sad things, we can always choose joy over sorrow, even if sorrowful things happen to us, and I think Mabel really makes that discovery during the course of the story.

Content note: a baby is conceived out of wedlock, and there is some profanity

2. The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis
My boys and I have several series that we're in the middle of. This is intentional. It's nice to have a few books constantly at the ready so if our current readaloud is a total bomb (it happens), we can get back into a good reading groove with the next installment in a much-beloved series.

The Chronicles of Narnia happens to be one of those. It's been almost two years since we were last in Narnia (when we read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader), and Aaron and I were ready to get back to it. The feeling wasn't mutual though. Max was obstinately reluctant (as usual), and Bradley took one look at the cover and insisted that it would give him nightmares. We went ahead with it anyway.

(Ironically, Bradley skipped the first two-thirds of the book and finally decided to join us on, you guessed it, the very scene depicted on the front cover. And he wasn't scared at all.)

I read this book myself several years ago and wrote an extensive review at that time (probably one of my favorite reviews I've ever written), so I don't feel like I need to go into much additional detail here. I will say that I loved reading this one out loud. Doing the voices for Puddleglum and the witch were my favorite.

3. Anne of Green Gables: a graphic novel adapted by Mariah Marsden and illustrated by Brenna Thummler

I have reached a point in my reading life that I never quite expected and that is that I actually really enjoy graphic novels and will often reach for one when I need a quick read that will also serve as a bit of a palette cleanser.

When I saw this new graphic novel adaptation of Anne of Green Gables, I immediately put it on hold, and I loved revisiting one of my favorite stories in a new way.

For the most part, this adaptation remains true to the original story and includes all of the major scenes (Anne cracking her slate over Gilbert's head, intoxicating Diana, dreaming of puffed sleeves, and nearly drowning in her role as the Lady of Shalott, etc.). But more important to me was that it stay true to the heart and feeling and essence of the original, and it did. (And we all know that sometimes these adaptations DO NOT--can I get an "amen" in regards to Netflix's Anne with an 'E'? Ugh.)

I particularly loved Matthew and Marilla in this adaptation, and I maybe got a little teary-eyed when Marilla tells Anne, "Matthew and I--together, we loved you beyond sense."

Of course, it can't compare to the original (nothing can!!), but I think this would be a perfect introduction for kids who might not be quite ready for Anne's flowery speeches. I'm pretty sure Aaron, Max, and Bradley would agree since they all stole it from me and read it, too.

That's it for February. I anticipate March being a much better reading month as I'm already well over halfway through three books.

What did YOU read in February?

Review x 2: Rose in Bloom and The Blue Castle

About half of my reading goals this year were loosely defined, giving me plenty of wiggle room and opportunities to change my mind, and the other half were very specific. Number Three was one of the latter: "Read Rose in Bloom by Louisa May Alcott and The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery."

I read Eight Cousins last year, and I knew if I didn't put a high priority on reading the sequel, Rose in Bloom, it would be years before it happened, which would make me think I had to reread Eight Cousins before I could pick it up, and . . . you can see how that could turn into a vicious cycle for me.

By contrast, The Blue Castle has been on my to-read list for years and years and years. And every year, I thought I would get to it, and every year, I didn't. Except for this year. I knew making a goal would force it to happen.

Because the two books were grouped together in my goals, it only makes sense to review them together, although they're actually not very similar at all.

Rose in Bloom was a slow read for me. I listened to it, and, as you might remember, this is not the year of the audiobook. It probably took me four months to listen to, and the only reason I ended up getting through it was because I made weekly goals along the lines of, "Listen to an hour of Rose in Bloom."

All of Louisa May Alcott's books have a strong moral undertone (I'm making assumptions here since I haven't read all of her books, but my sample size would indicate that this is the case), but this one was especially heavy handed. Rose was a little too much of a goody two shoes for me (and when the girl who has always been a bit of a goody two shoes herself admits that, then you know it must be pretty blatant).

I grew tired of Rose continually chiding and preaching to her cousins, giving up certain things because they were giving her too much pleasure (as noble as that is), and sacrificing all of her time for the good of others. It was just too much, and I couldn't seem to muster up the same feelings of adoration that everyone else seemed to feel about her. She was too good and too saintly, made all the more aggravating because she was always bemoaning how she was not good and not saintly and must therefore try a little harder.

One of the reasons I really wanted to read this book was because when I reviewed Eight Cousins, I mentioned that I was so curious about Uncle Alec and what made him stay a bachelor. One of my friends commented and said that all of my questions would be answered in Rose in Bloom. And so I kept waiting to hear more about Uncle Alec's past and what I was sure would be a failed love interest, but I guess I was looking for the wrong thing because that kind of story wasn't there. (Then again, maybe I just missed it because I was reading the book so sloooowwwllly.)

I will say that the ending redeemed the book a bit for me because it was so sweet and exactly what I wanted to happen. So there's that.

The Blue Castle was a completely different ride--one that was quirky and completely unbelievable and just so much fun.

Valancy Stirling has always lived under the oppressive thumb of her mother and various relations. She wears what they want her to wear, spends her time doing what they except her to do, and laughs appropriately at all of Uncle Benjamin's insufferable jokes. But after she finds out she has an incurable heart condition and has less than a year left to live, she throws all cares to the wind and finally lives her life the way she wants to. It's thrilling and exhilarating, and she takes the reader right along with her.

When Valancy first learns about her diagnosis, she is naturally upset, but I loved this line: "Rebellion flamed up in her soul as the dark hours passed by--not because she had no future but because she had no past." This rebellion makes her bold and brazen in a way that is completely endearing--like, she buys herself a green dress (shocking!) because she's always been made to wear brown, and she goes to the Presbyterian church even though the entire Stirling clan has always gone to the Anglican church. She creates a past for herself, something that she can fondly look back on and that other people will remember her by.

I mentioned above that it's a rather unbelievable story, and it is, and I suppose some readers would fault it for that, but I didn't. I loved every unbelievable moment. There have been times in L.M. Montgomery's books where I've wanted more (who can read Anne of Windy Poplars without thinking, That's all sweet and charming, but what about Anne and Gilbert?!), but there are no passionate feelings lacking in this one (and of course, it's all innocent and perfectly appropriate (even if Valancy thinks she's being scandalous), which made me love it even more).

After I was done with it, I pushed it into my sister's hands, and she in turn pushed it into my mom's hands. So within about a month of each other, we all had read it, and we all loved it.

I think part of the reason I loved it so much was because it was so different from what I was expecting. For some reason, I had the impression that it was going to be dark and moody, so when it ended up being spunky and sassy and even at times a bit silly, it delighted me to no end. Valancy's mother is too awful, Barney is too perfect, and Valancy is too adorably clueless for real life, but they're all just the right amount of those things to make a really good story.

I can see this one turning into a comfort book--one that I return to when I just want to escape into a happy place.

I know many of you count Rose in Bloom as your favorite Alcott novel, and even though it won't be mine, I'm interested to hear why you love it so much. And what is your opinion of The Blue Castle: is it endearing or ridiculous?

Why I Don't Mind Folding the Laundry

Motherhood, and also just adulthood in general, comes with a long list of menial, repetitive tasks. The dishes must be washed, the laundry must be folded, the grass must be mowed, the floor must be swept, the oil must be changed, the windows must be scrubbed, the garden must be weeded, the meals must be cooked. Over and over again, forever and ever, from now until the end of your lives.

No one tells you any of this in their peppy graduation speeches. There's a lot of, "You can be anything you want in this world! You're going to do amazing things! Go get 'em!" and not a whole lot of, "And, oh yeah, those piles of laundry don't wash themselves. Have fun with that." (They also never tell you that, yes, you can eat ice cream on the couch after the kids go to bed--so there are some hidden perks.)

There are days when I feel like my life is slowly evaporating in monotonous tasks. Sometimes it seems like I have nothing to show for these hours and days that I'm living. It can be kind of a discouraging thought to realize you could live your whole life and come to the end of it, and no one will really care that you've folded 23,541 loads of laundry. It actually doesn't look that impressive in an obituary.

But then, there are also days when I don't mind those boring tasks one bit. When I don't have to think about what I'm doing, then I can think about whatever else I want. My hands are busy, but my mind is utterly and completely free. There's something quite pleasant in that.

When I was reading Emily's Quest a few weeks ago, I came across the following passage. And it was satisfying to find out that Emily Byrd Starr agrees with me:

"This evening, just when I was in the middle of a story Aunt Elizabeth said she wanted me to weed the onion-bed. So I had to lay down my pen and go out to the kitchen garden. But one can weed onions and think wonderful things at the same time, glory be. It is one of the blessings that we don't always have to put our souls into what our hands may be doing, praise the gods--for otherwise who would have any soul left? So I weeded the onion-bed and roamed the Milky Way in imagination."

It sounds fairly romantic--especially that bit about roaming the Milky Way--but there's a lot of truth in it. There are so many things I enjoy doing when I don't have to be fully engaged with the physical task at hand.

The first, and probably most obvious one, is to "think wonderful things," as Emily put it. I don't know that my thoughts are always wonderful, but I love to just let my mind wander. I stew over problems (and brainstorm solutions), I formulate new blog posts, I ponder eternal truths (which sounds much more impressive than, at least in my case, it actually is), and I make plans for the future. And for me, I actually think a lot more clearly if I'm busy doing something instead of sitting still and trying to think.

Monotonous tasks also give me the perfect opportunity to indulge in some inspiring or entertaining listening. For the last few months, I've been listening to a conference talk first thing in the morning before I listen to anything else (I've had this one and this one on repeat lately). It gets the day started right and reminds me to focus on the important things. I tend to listen to audiobooks when the kids are asleep or occupied (I'm listening to The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton right now--so good!) and podcasts when they're likely to need my frequent attention (two recent favorites: Bringing Up Betty and The Yarn).

I'm not much of a singer, but occasionally, I like to sing while I work. It makes me feel happy and alive. But even more than that, I like to put on some upbeat music. It's energizing--for me and my kids. Sometimes--usually--dancing ensues.

A task like washing the dishes gives me the perfect opportunity to call someone on the phone. It's almost always my mom, but once in a while I branch out to a friend that I need to catch up with. The truth is, I don't love talking on the phone, but if I'm busy doing something else, it can be fun.

Not recently, but quite a bit in the past, I used those mindless tasks to memorize scriptures or poems or hymns. Wiping down the bathroom sink took the same amount of time as five repetitions of a certain phrase. I should get back into that.

I've also found that if I'm doing something fairly stationary (like making dinner or folding laundry), it's a great time to have some quality time with my kids. I can help them with homework or projects. I can let them help me with whatever I'm doing. I can ask them questions and take the time to listen to all their grand ideas.

So yes, I've definitely found ways to enjoy doing almost every task in our home. My problem now stems from the fact that it's almost impossible to "think wonderful thoughts" if I'm being interrupted four different times by four different people. But I happen to be quite fond of those four little people, so usually I don't mind.

What do you do to engage your mind while your hands are busy?

Emily's Quest by L.M. Montgomery

Finally, finally, I can check off the Emily trilogy from my to-read list. I read the first one probably fifteen years ago, then read it again a few years ago, and finally made the reading of the last two one of my goals for the year. And I'm so glad I did. This final installment was probably my favorite one in the trilogy.

At the beginning of this book, Emily has been left behind. Sure, she has Aunt Elizabeth, Aunt Laura, and Cousin Jimmy, but all of her friends (Perry, Ilse, and, most notably, Teddy) have gone off on the grand adventures of adulthood. (Emily has something of a vague regret for not taking up Miss Royal on her offer to go to New York City.) But New Moon is just as dear as ever, and Emily loves the sweet comforts of home. Before Teddy leaves, he and Emily make a promise of sorts to each other. Whenever either of them sees the star, Vega of the Lyre, they will think of each other--"everywhere and as long as we live."

But after he goes, Teddy changes. He becomes preoccupied with his art and soon becomes quite well-known and esteemed. Emily, on the other hand, publishes a lot of stories and poems but can't seem to get any higher on her Alpine path. She becomes very discouraged and, after a nearly fatal accident, she loses interest in writing entirely. The years pass slowly, and it seems for a time that all her dreams are lost.

This book reminded me of the movie, It's a Wonderful Life. As you might remember, George Bailey wants nothing more than to get out of Bedford Falls. He wants to travel the world and go to college and become an architect. But after his father passes away quite suddenly, he chooses to stay in order to help the Bailey Building and Loan not fall into the greedy hands of Mr. Potter. In Emily's case, she stayed at New Moon much more willingly (she's a homebody at heart), but she still watches as all of her friends find success and happiness and she seems to stay stagnant and the same. In both scenarios, the friends come home for visits and find everything exactly as they left it. It's comforting to them, but it's aggravating to George and Emily who, in spite of choosing to stay, have such big dreams for their lives, none of which seem to be coming to fruition.

This book was quite the contrast to Emily Climbs, which, in spite of many funny and witty moments, was almost intolerably slow for me. The romantic tension in this one kept the pace up for me. Montgomery keeps the reader guessing the entire time: who is Emily going to end up with? Is she even going to get married? Is she really going to marry someone she doesn't love? Is Teddy really going to marry someone he doesn't love? 

It's a different kind of page turner than something action-packed or danger-filled. In fact, I suppose you could say that for most of the book, nothing much happens. Many years pass, and, as a reader, I felt a lot of frustration with Teddy and Emily and kept wondering, Is anything ever going to happen???? But it was that question that kept me turning the pages. I had to know if things would resolve between them. The promise of reconciliation was very tantalizing.

It's so funny because, really, I don't actually like Teddy Kent very much. I know he's sweet and dreamy and kind, but he never seemed to have much backbone, and this final installment did nothing to change my opinion. In fact, if he'd been less romantic and more practical, none of the misunderstandings would have happened (but then, I just said that the whole reason I liked this book was because of the romantic tension, so you can see, I'm conflicted).

However, when there was even a hint of a threat that Emily wasn't going to end up with Teddy, I was quite indignant. How could Montgomery set up their love story so perfectly in the previous two books and then not have anything come of it? She strings the reader along until the last possible second (we're talking, the-wedding-guests-are-arriving, the-minister-is-waiting, last possible second). In fact, it wasn't until the last four pages that I could finally relax, and I'll admit, I would have liked a few more pages of happiness before it all ended. I think all the previous pages of tension deserved a drawn-out happy ending.

Even though waiting to see what would happen between Emily and Teddy was the main thing that kept me reading, Emily's ambition to become an author was a close second. I loved one of her journal entries where she is reveling in life's beauty, and then her final line is, "How much difference in one's outlook three acceptances make!" (She's referring to having three of her manuscripts accepted for publication.) It's so true. On the days when someone compliments me or follows me on Instagram or comments on my blog, my disposition changes because I feel appreciated and valued. And it makes me realize that it wouldn't take much effort on my part to do that for someone else as well. 

Out of the three books, this is the only one that, upon finishing, I went back and reread some of my favorite parts. I guess that affirms what I said at the beginning: this is my favorite of the three.

Emily Climbs by L.M. Montgomery

I read the first book in the Emily trilogy, Emily of New Moon, when I was a teenager. Ten years later, I decided I wanted to read the other two, but by that time, I couldn't remember the first very well. So I reread it. And then I stopped again. If that isn't a testament to my inability to finish a series (even ones I love), I don't know what is.

But have you seen the new covers illustrated by Jacqui Oakley (<----)? In spite of my love of books, I'm not a huge book-buyer. But when I saw the new Emily covers, I splurged.

And then I decided it was finally time to read Emily Climbs (and soon, Emily's Quest (how convenient that it's one of my reading goals for 2015)).

This installment chronicles Emily's high school years. Blair Water doesn't have a high school, but Shrewsbury does. Most of Emily's friends (Ilse, Perry, even Teddy) are planning to board in Shrewsbury and attend school there for three years. Emily longs to further her education and go with them, but Aunt Elizabeth is dead set against it. But then suddenly, miraculously, one week before school starts, she relents--on one condition: Emily must give up writing.

Emily is stunned by the request. As much as she wants to go to school, she realizes to give up writing would be as impossible for her as to give up breathing. She would die without it. She knows this, and so she declines the offer.

However, Cousin Jimmy (good ol' Cousin Jimmy!) knows what this opportunity will mean to Emily, and so he acts as mediator between them. He convinces Aunt Elizabeth to be satisfied with Emily only giving up writing fiction, and he convinces Emily to be okay with only writing truth for these three years.

Emily's beloved (but curt) teacher, Mr. Carpenter, thinks this is a good idea and that it will greatly improve Emily's writing . . . and hopefully cure Emily of her excessive use of italics. (After Emily complains to him that he only says disagreeable things, he counters with, "It might be a nice world if nobody ever said a disagreeable thing, but it would be a dangerous one.")

Because of this emphasis on truth, much of the book is made up of entries from Emily's own diary where she diligently tries to give an accurate account of her experiences and the people who take part in them. I loved these sections. They made Emily come to life, and I could see her writing maturing and improving over those three years. However, I found the spacing of these journal sections a little awkward. There wasn't any particular pattern for when they would be inserted, and often they seemed like a means to cover several months in one gulp. But overall, I appreciated them and really found it invaluable in a story about a girl who loves writing and dreams of becoming a writer to get to see examples of her actual writing.

The story itself is rather slow-paced. I found it easy to set it aside and read other books (El Deafo, The Crossover, etc.) in between. But if you could see all my dogeared pages, you'd know that its words still touched me in a multitude of ways. L.M. Montgomery's descriptions are more vivid and real to me than almost any other author's.

And even though it's not a page-turner, it's still filled with so many delightful little scenes. Let me tell you about one of my favorites:

While Emily attends school in Shrewsbury, she boards with her Aunt Ruth, who is even more formidable and disagreeable than Aunt Elizabeth. During her first year there, Emily takes part in a school play, and when Aunt Ruth finds out about it, she is outraged. She calls Emily sly and forbids her to take part in it. But Emily is stubborn and loyal and won't back out at the last minute, so she participates.

When she returns home that evening, she finds all the doors locked. A fiery anger overcomes her, and she decides she is through with Aunt Ruth. No human being can be expected to put up with such abuse for so long. So, in the middle of the night, she walks the seven miles home to New Moon. By luck, Cousin Jimmy is still awake, eating a crockful of doughnuts no less. Of all the people who might have convinced Emily to return to Shrewsbury and continue to endure Aunt Ruth, he's probably the only one who could actually do it. Then at two o'clock in the morning, Emily walks the long road back to Shrewsbury (can you imagine doing such a thing today?!), and, as it turns out, Aunt Ruth is very relieved to see Emily.

I never thought I would like Aunt Ruth (L.M. Montgomery calls her "a rather stupid, stubborn little barnyard fowl trying to train up a skylark"), but even she came through in the end and defended Emily at a critical moment when no one else would have been able to help her. After that, Emily thinks, "I wonder where I put my Jimmy-book. I must add a few more touches to my sketch of Aunt Ruth." By that time, Emily had been living with Aunt Ruth for almost three years and thought she had her pretty well figured out, but this was a great reminder to me that humans (fictional or not) are multi-layered and that usually we make assumptions too quickly.

(Another favorite scene was the dog mix-up between Miss Royal and Emily. That one was so incredibly funny, but I don't want to spoil it since it happens towards the end of the book, but if you've read it, I'd love to talk about it with you.)

It's always a little sad when you don't love the boy who turns out to be the romantic interest, but in this case, I have to admit that I didn't love Teddy (that's part of the reason the Emily books will never surpass the Anne books for me). However, I think he's a perfect fit for Emily, and I really love their timid and slowly unfolding relationship. It's adorable, and so even though I would never want to marry Teddy, I can't help but wish it for Emily.

Although a slow book (I guess slow second books in trilogies were a thing even in 1925), I still really liked this book, and I'm looking forward to the last one.

Have you read the Emily books? Who do you like better--Emily or Anne?

Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery

I remembered only two things from my first reading of this book: 1) Emily's cold nights in bed with her austere Aunt Elizabeth and 2) cutting bangs for herself against Aunt Elizabeth's wishes. Now, after having read it a second time, I find it amusing that those were the two things that stuck with me. They are not particularly important to the plot, and even as I was reading it, nothing else stirred or came forward in my memory...not even the mystery surrounding Ilse's mother or Aunt Elizabeth and Emily's relationship eventually coming to a head. Memory truly is a sporadic and flighty thing.

When the story begins, Emily's father is dying of consumption. After he dies (I don't consider that a spoiler since it happened in the first 20 pages), Emily is sent to live with her proud, tradition-loving Murray relatives. Between Aunt Elizabeth's stern dislike, Aunt Laura's sweet and sensitive concern, and Cousin Jimmy's unquestioning love, Emily finds plenty of material to write about on any scrap of paper she can find. (Aunt Elizabeth doesn't believe in having too much paper around.) And then to spice things up, there's also a visit to the unconventional Aunt Nancy, a near-tragic fall down a deep ravine, and a disturbing scandal surrounding the disappearance of Emily's best friend's mother.

Of course I couldn't read this book and not compare Emily to my beloved Anne Shirley. There are three Emily books, and I only ever read this one, whereas I read the entire Anne series plus several re-reads, so it is only natural I suppose that I would be more attached to Anne. That said, Emily is very easy to love and shows some definite similarities to Anne: a  strong, and sometimes overactive, imagination, orphaned, and a desire to write and create. But where Anne is dramatic and emotional, Emily is dependable and somewhat defiant. Anne can fly into a quick temper, but Emily's emotions seem to run a little deeper and last a little longer. And although Emily loves to hear the Wind Woman outside her window, she doesn't give luscious and charming names to every flower and brook the way Anne does. I don't think Emily could ever replace Anne for me, but I'd still take her as a friend.

In true L.M. Montgomery fashion, the story is full of delightful descriptions and memorable characters. I especially love her minor characters...those ones that flit in and out of the story but that leave a marked impression because they are so brilliantly described. Take Father Cassidy, for example. He takes part in just one chapter (save for a couple of brief references later on), but I couldn't forget him because of this image: "Emily thought he looked just like a big nut--a big, brown, wholesome nut." It's not flattering, but it's also not unflattering. It simple and perfect. In addition to that though, Father Cassidy is memorable because he has a distinctive voice ("Don't be afraid of the B'y. He eats tender little Protestants sometimes, but he never meddles with leprechauns.") and he encourages Emily in her talents. I won't bore you with analyzing every single minor character, but just know that Montgomery is just as vivid with all her characters.

Oh, and she has such a wry sense of humor. For example, after Aunt Laura piteously asks Emily what she was thinking, Aunt Elizabeth advises sarcastically, "I think it will be better if you do not ask that child what she is thinking of." I think I used to miss a lot of the subtle humor when I read these books as a child, but now it is another reason why I love L.M. Montgomery so much.

And she also has some great one-liners...those times where she says just the right thing in just a few words. Take this description about Cousin Jimmy, who lives with Aunt Laura and Aunt Elizabeth because he fell in a well when he was a boy and was never the same since: "Whatever was missing, it wasn't his heart." Doesn't that just make you love Cousin Jimmy? And you haven't even read the book!

One last thing that I loved about this book were the chapters that were composed entirely of Emily's letters to her father. In these sections, the writing switches to first-person by Emily, where we get an inside look into how she feels about life and certain events/people. I loved having most of the book told in third-person with the occasional snippets told in first-person. Seeing Emily's character from two angles and perspectives really fleshed her out for me and made her more real.

This was just a wonderful summer read. Since I never read Emily Climbs or Emily's Quest, I'm looking forward to finishing the Emily trilogy.