The False Prince by Jennifer A. Nielsen

I used to try to make an effort to read at least some of the same books as my kids. But lately, I haven't had much of an interest in their reading material. For most of fourth grade, Maxwell's favorite series (along with its multiple spinoff series) was Warriors. In case you couldn't guess, action packed drama involving warring cat clans is definitely not my thing. 

Aaron is a much more eclectic reader than Max, but this summer he has either been reading books that I recommended (which I've already read) or long-winded fantasy series (also not my thing).

As part of our summer reading program, the boys could earn a book after twenty hours of reading (ten hours for Clark). For the first two months of summer, Aaron was literally earning at least one book every week. At one point, we kind of ran out of ideas, so I had him look through this excellent list of adventure books from Erica at What Do We Do All Day (seriously, all of her lists are good, but this one is a particular gold mine). He selected The False Prince, and after reading through the summary, I said, "Hey, that actually sounds like a book I might like, too." 

Luckily, knowing that his mom might be interested in the same book as him is not a turnoff for Aaron. Once he was done with it and confirmed that it was very good, I checked out the audio and gave it a listen. 

Although his life is not luxurious in any way, orphan Sage is quick on his feet with an even quicker mouth, so he gets by just fine. But one day, just after stealing a ham, his life makes an abrupt turn when a man named Connor, one of the country's regents, stops by the orphanage and handpicks Sage for a secret project.

After a great struggle with some complaining and insults thrown in, Sage finds himself in the back of a wagon with three other boys: Vladimir, Tobias, and Roden. They exchange what little information they know, but it is soon clear that the four of them were chosen for a role that only one of them will ultimately fill. Connor gives each of them the chance to leave before he reveals the full plan, and when Vladimir accepts the offer, Connor has him shot in the back before he even leaves the campsite. The other boys quickly realize this isn't a game, and Connor will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

And what does he want? To save the kingdom of Carthia from war and destruction. The king, queen, and prince have just been murdered, leaving no heir to the throne. There was a second son, Jaron, who was  supposedly killed by pirates four years before, but his body was never found. Connor has evidence that Jaron actually did die, but he plans to take advantage of the hope the country still has that Jaron is alive. 

And that is where Sage and the other boys come in. Connor takes them to his estate for two weeks where he trains them in all of the arts, graces, knowledge, and traits of Prince Jaron. At the end of the testing period, he will choose one of them to be presented as the long-lost Prince Jaron and ascend the throne as the rightful king of Carthia. 

I listened to an interview with Jennifer Nielsen about writing this book, and she said that once she had the character of Sage firmly in her mind, everything else fell into place. She said that Sage became this living, breathing person for her, and she would think about him constantly and what he would do in various situations in her actual life. 

When I heard the way she talked about Sage, it suddenly made sense why the story worked so well for me. It was because Sage was so convincing--even with his conflicting actions and attitudes. He was 100% believable, and I think a lot of that had to do with Jennifer Nielsen's relationship with him: it was affectionate and personal and very intimate. He wasn't just some character that she dreamed up to execute a certain idea. She took the time to get to know him--his layered complexity that made the story so rich and thrilling.

I'm so glad she took the time to get him right because if Sage hadn't clicked for me, the whole story would have fallen flat. As it was, I enjoyed the whole thing very much and thought it had some good twists and turns.

This one is the first book in the series, but I can't decide if I want to read any of the others or not. I honestly kind of liked it as a standalone novel. I don't want to spoil anything, but I'm worried that Sage won't be as fascinating or exciting of a character in subsequent books, and since he was the reason why I loved this book so much, I just don't want to risk ruining that. 

I would place this book solidly in the 10-14 age range, but a younger child could enjoy it as a readaloud, and I obviously still enjoyed it very much as an adult. 

Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns

Just a heads up: In the course of this review, I mention a couple of things that might be considered spoilers, so continue at your own risk.

When I was a kid, I can remember seeing both A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Cold Sassy Tree on our bookshelves. Not knowing anything about either of them, I kind of thought of them as the same book--probably because they both had the word "tree" in their titles.

As an adult, I eventually picked up A Tree Grows in Brooklyn almost ten years ago, and I fell in love with everything about it. But Cold Sassy Tree remained unread, even though it seemed to get tossed around quite often as a suggestion at various book clubs over the years. It finally landed when my book club planned out our reading for 2020 and voted to read it in February for the relationships genre.

And surprisingly, even though the protagonists, storylines, and settings are markedly different between the two books, there was something about the writing that actually did end up reminding me of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Maybe it was just all in my head from my association with the two books in my childhood, but a certain quality under the surface seemed to resonate in each of these two books. Maybe it is just that both of them seem to exude that sharp and vibrant writing style that marks them as a modern classic. (Other books that have a similar feeling to me: Crossing to Safety, To Kill a Mockingbird, and East of Eden.)

The story is told from the 14-year-old perspective of Will Tweety in 1906. He lives in the town of Cold Sassy, Georgia with his mother, father, sister, grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, and cousin. His grandfather, E. Rucker Blakeslee, owns the general store and is well respected in the community.

That is, well respected until his wife, Mattie Lou, passes away and, not three weeks after her funeral, he elopes with the milliner, Miss Love Simpson. Mary Willis and Loma (Will's mother and aunt) are so mortified and ashamed of their father. They'll have absolutely nothing to do with Miss Love.

But Will likes her. She is kind and young (more than 20 years Mr. Blakeslee's junior), and so pretty. Ostracized from the rest of the town, she takes Will into her confidence, explaining that the marriage was really a business arrangement. Mr. Blakeslee gets a housekeeper, and she gets deeded the house and the furniture after his death.

But regardless of what it started out as, it is soon clear to Will that his grandfather has strong feelings for Miss Love, and Miss Love is slowly but surely reciprocating.

I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but this story unfolded in the most surprising way. Remember, it was told through the eyes of a 14-year-old boy; and while I didn't always enjoy being in the head of said 14-year-old (ahem, puberty), I have to admit that it cast the story in an interesting and compelling light. It felt so authentic and real that I couldn't quite fathom how a 60-year-old woman had written it.

Speaking of which, I enjoyed the writing style so much that I looked up Olive Ann Burns after I was finished to see what else she had written. Tragically, much like Harper Lee, it looks as though she was a one-book wonder. But I can't help but think that if her one and only book was this good, imagine what else she might have produced.

One of my favorite characters was Mr. Blakeslee. I loved the way he pushed against social constructs and laid aside conventionality in favor of what he deemed was right or proper . . . or just what he selfishly wanted. For example, when Miss Love is dismissed from being the Methodist pianist, he sees it as an opportunity to have a good time, just the two of them, singing and preaching together. (His religious views were rather unorthodox as well, but I loved them.) At another point, after Will's Uncle Campbell commits suicide, rather than making the whole affair feel shameful and unforgivable, Mr. Blakeslee pours out compassion and expects the whole town to come along with him in honoring the man. (It's quite possible that his actions were also a reflection of the guilt he felt, but it helped the town move forward in a positive way nonetheless.)

The most tender moment for me, and the one I'll probably always remember from this book, occurred when Will read the suicidal note from his uncle. The P.S. said, "I fixed the faucet," which alone about broke my heart since it was something his wife, Loma, had been nagging him to do for a long time. But then Will noticed that "even as I stood there holding his sweet and lonely words, I heard water going 'drip, drip, drip' into the bathtub." It was too much for me. It made me so sad to think that this man felt like he couldn't do anything right, and then, just before he took his own life, he tried to do something that would make his wife happy. But it hadn't worked; the faucet was still dripping. But then Will, in spite of all of his mischievous and naughty ways, picked up the wrench and changed the washer because, in his words, "nobody was going to say Campbell Williams was so sorry that he couldn't even fix a faucet." There were many heartbreaking moments in this story, but this one--this is the one that got to me.

I listened to the audio version of this book, and I thought it was fantastic. I never even cracked the cover of the actual book, so I never saw what the text was like. To me, the southern accents just flowed easily and naturally. But after going to book club and hearing about the experiences of those who had chosen to read rather than listen, I felt like I made the right choice. Apparently, the dialogue, which had been so engaging for me, was a bit of a beast to read when written out.

I was surprised to find out that this book was published in 1984. For some reason, I expected it to be older than that. I think it has that timeless feel that makes it difficult to place in a certain decade. I can see why many people think of it as a modern classic. It is multi-layered and vivid and just so real. 

Middlemarch by George Eliot

I had no intention of reading Middlemarch.

Several years ago, I remember Mike telling me that I should read it. Apparently, it was a casual acquaintance's favorite book. That wasn't much of a trusted recommendation, but I briefly considered it. However, when I saw the length, I tucked it away indefinitely. I love to read, but long books are still daunting because I know I'm going to give up weeks, maybe even months, when I could be reading something else.

So really, I had no plans to read Middlemarch.

But then at the beginning of the year, I made the goal to "Read two classics by female authors." I was thinking of Edith Wharton or Virginia Woolf or Anne Brontë, but then one of my friends reminded me that George Eliot was actually a pen name for Mary Ann Evans. This same friend also said that if I read Middlemarch, then she would read it too, and then we could discuss it afterwards.

I just can't resist checking off a goal and having someone to discuss a book with. So without quite realizing what I was getting myself into, I checked out the audio from the library.

That was three and a half months ago. This book consumed nearly a third of this year. And was it worth it? Well, read on and decide for yourself.

The story is set in Middlemarch, a fictional town in central England. Although the cast of characters is quite large, the plot mainly focuses on two people: Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate. Interestingly, the two of them actually have very little interaction with each other until the end of the novel. Dorothea is intelligent, pious, and even a little self-righteous (provoking Will Ladislaw to say at one point, "I believe that you have some false belief in the virtues of misery"). All she really wants is to make a little bit of a difference in the world. So when Reverend Edward Casaubon (who is something like 20 years older than she is) asks her to marry him, she accepts (even though at the age of 18, she is not even close to desperate, plus she already has another offer from the dashing Sir James Chettam). Her younger sister, Celia, can't imagine what would drive her to such a decision, which leads to one of my favorite conversations in the whole book (between Celia and Mrs. Cadwallader):

"I am so sorry for Dorothea."
"Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose."
"Yes. She says Mr. Casaubon has a great soul."
"With all my heart!"
"Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader. I don't think it can be nice to marry a man with a great soul."
"Well, my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now. When the next comes and wants to marry you, don't you accept him."
"I'm sure I never should."
"No. One such in a family is enough."

Anyway, true to Celia's fears, that marriage proves to be a disaster from the start, but meanwhile, Dr. Tertius Lydgate moves to Middlemarch. He is a young doctor and just getting started in his practice. He is similar to Dorothea in that he has high ambitions for his life, feels a strong loyalty to his profession, and intends to improve the world, even if it means rocking Middlemarch's hierarchy and politics just a little bit.

A wrench is thrown into his plans, however, when local beauty, Rosamond Vincy, falls for him. Before long, they are married, but Rosamond is unprepared to accept the meager salary of a young, struggling doctor, and their marriage is soon on shaky ground as well.

That little summary introduces you to the main characters, but it does not even begin to scratch the surface of what this novel is about (nor does it introduce you to my favorite couple, Fred Vincy and Mary Garth). I don't think it's possible for me to condense an epic novel into a few paragraphs, and I don't think that's what you came here for anyway.

If you've read Middlemarch, first of all, congrats, and second, let's go out for lunch and discuss it.

And if you haven't read it, well then, you're probably wondering if you should read it. Is this a classic that should be required reading for every single person on the planet?

Hmmmm . . . I'm going to say, no.

That's not because I didn't like it, and it's not because I didn't find a great deal of value in it. It's just that it took three and a half months to finish, and I'm not sure it was worth the sacrifice. A few weeks ago, I was at book club with the same friend who had agreed to read it with me. I told her I was on disc 18, and "it was finally picking up." And then I thought, Did you hear what you just said?! You've listened to over twenty hours, and it's just now becoming interesting?! There's something wrong with that.

That assessment wasn't entirely true. I hadn't found the whole thing up to that point uninteresting, but enough that it was feeling like a bit of a slog to get through. The question that I kept asking myself was, "If the ending is amazing, will the rest of the book have been worth it?"

George Eliot was a contemporary to Charles Dickens (the first installment of Middlemarch was published just a year after his death), and their novels follow similar structures. I've learned from the Dickens' novels I've read that the set up is worth it. You invest the time to get to know the characters and their secrets and then the ending brings everything together in a miraculous sort of way.

So that's what I was expecting to have happen in Middlemarch. And to a certain extent, that's what did happen. It was easy for me to finish the book. The tension between Rosamond and Lydgate was palpable. Their arguments were so real, I felt like someone could lift them straight out of the story and drop them into a modern novel and no one would guess they were written in 1870. And then there were Bulstrode's secrets (the most Dickenish part of the story for sure--you can't convince me Raffles wasn't actually one of Dickens' creations). And of course, how could I not love Will Ladislaw's tumultuous, but yet tender, passion?

So I'm torn. It is brilliant. I can see why it is on so many people's favorite lists, but . . . I don't think it will go on mine. I loved the characters and the commentary on marriage (so insightful!). And I found many of the passages to be worthy of being written down and remembered. But the middle was unforgivably tedious for me, and I'm just realizing that if I ever wanted to reread this book (and I believe if a book is a "favorite,"then of course you will want to reread it), I'd have to go through that again, and I don't think it would be worth it. One time, yes. A second time, probably not.

My experience reminded me of something that was said about Ladislaw's and Dorothea's relationship: "But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope." Sometimes listening to this book felt like despair (usually when I was trying to listen to it when my kids were awake--always a big mistake), but really that despair was only the "painful eagerness of unfed hope." I hoped it was going to get interesting. I hoped the ending was going to be amazing. I hoped things were going to work out for the best for all of the characters.

And, for the most part, all my hopes were fulfilled.

Tell me: Have you read Middlemarch? Are you glad you did? Who is your favorite character(s)? And what was the hardest part for you to get through (mine was when Mr. Brooke was running for a position in Parliament)?

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein

In the last year, Code Name Verity has received a lot of attention, praise, and awards (including a Printz Honor). And it finally got to the point where I was hearing about it so much that I thought, Enough already! I'll read the book! (Actually, I was a little irritated with myself because I kept forgetting to put it on my to-read list (yet another testament that my memory is bad enough that I really do need Goodreads), and so it was a good thing it kept popping up everywhere or I probably would have never remembered to read it.)

And now the tricky part - how do I possibly give a summary of a book whose very essence lies in its carefully cloaked secrets and guarded identities? It's not like some books where the twists all happen at the end; if I start explaining or describing practically anything, I will most certainly make an inadvertent slip of the keyboard and tell you something that should be kept under lock and key. Maybe you're like me and rarely remember plot summaries, but I would not dare risk that and spoil it for someone.

So you get the most basic facts: It is historical fiction that takes place during World War II. It is about two young women, but I can't even tell you their names. Both of them take a turn narrating the story. One of them is a spy who has been captured by the Nazis and her narration is in the form of a confession (I don't think that's giving away anything important since I'm pretty sure the reader knows that right from the start). It is a fascinating tale not only because it is about two women who were both intimately involved with the war but also because it tests the true meaning of honesty, friendship, and sacrifice.

I have to say, this book was a slo-o-o-o-o-o-w start for me. If I wasn't a bit OCD about finishing books, I think I would have given up on it. I listened to it, and it literally took me a full four CDs (out of nine) before I was fully invested in it. After that, it flew, and I was quite happy I stuck it out. The first part talks a lot about flying and planes and technicalities that I just wasn't all that interested in. But in the end, I could see that it was a needed and worthwhile set-up, and the rest of the book was awesome. I'm telling you this just so you know that if you're like me, you might have to read half the book in order to give it a fair chance. (I totally understand if that's not worth it to you, but just know you'll be missing out.)

I listened to the audio, and both narrators (Morven Christie and Lucy Gaskell) were amazing. It is a really emotional book, and they relayed that emotion so poignantly that I felt it. There is one point in the story where one of the women is crying, and her tears are spilling onto the pages she's writing. Even though I wasn't actually crying (at least not at that point), it was still like I could feel tears dripping down my cheeks and off my nose. Of course, this is also evidence of the incredible writing, but I know the excellent narration also added to it.

Mike listened to it, too, and although he was a little wary of its lack of male leads, he ended up liking it (except he arrogantly insisted that he liked the ending he thought up a lot more than the way it actually ended). I always like it when we read the same book because then I have someone to talk with about it. He did burst my bubble in a couple of places by pointing out how unlikely it would have been for a couple of the (major) events to take place, but then I countered by telling him that a good story is built on unlikeliness. I also thought it was interesting that he preferred one main character, and I preferred the other.

There were two phrases that were repeated regularly throughout the story (and both were used by both characters). For me, these two phrases summed up some of the underlying themes of the novel.

"Careless talk costs lives" was the first one. Much of the book focuses on the power of words: one word might save a life while another word might destroy it; also, the same words can be taken and interpreted in a multitude of different ways; sometimes, it's the things left unsaid that mean the most; and also, the mouth (and pen) is something that should be kept carefully guarded because once the words are free, we no longer have control over them.

The second phrase was, "Fly the plane, Maddy." Sometimes this was meant very literally while at other times, it seemed like there were some underlying messages: keep going, keep fighting, no matter what; focus on the task at hand; do your duty; enjoy the wonders of this life; turn off your emotions and go.

I really love a book that uses repetition in a creative and multifaceted way. Even if the author didn't intend for me to find inspiration in these memorable phrases, I found them nonetheless, and that's why reading is magic to me.

If you've read the book, you might be interested in reading this lengthy interview with Elizabeth Wein on Bookwitch. I'll be honest, I haven't read the entire interview, but it does go into a lot of interesting detail.

And also, I just heard that Elizabeth Wein has a new book coming out in September called Rose Under Fire. It is also about a female pilot in WWII (Wein herself is a pilot, so it makes sense that she would write about them), but it takes place in the infamous concentration camp at Ravensbruck.

In spite of its slow beginning, Code Name Verity was one of the best stories about friendship I've ever read. If you've read it, I'd love for you to share your thoughts about it.

Content note: there is some offensive language.

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

As a reader, I feel that I am relatively well-rounded. And by that I mean that I don't have a particular genre I stick to at the exclusion of all others. Sometimes, I'm in the mood for some interesting historical fiction; other times, I want a classic.  Sometimes I want a parenting book (yes, I'm weird, I read parenting books for fun and not out of any sense of obligation) and occasionally, I even decide to go for a little fantasy. And within all those genres, I like a healthy mix of children's, middle-grade, young adult and adult.

A few weeks ago, I had just finished a disappointing adult fiction novel, so I was in the mood for something for the younger crowd; something that would be exciting and teeter on the edge of reality just a bit.  The Thief had been on my list for over a year, and it seemed like it fit everything I was wanting at that moment.

When the story begins, Gen is in prison for theft. He wasn't in prison because he got caught, but rather because he was bragging about it after the fact. Turns out, he has an extraordinary talent for taking things which don't belong to him, and the king's magus releases him from prison with the assignment to steal Hamaithes' Gift, a precious stone with rare capabilities that the king wants. The journey is long and dangerous with an interesting mixture of trust and suspicion to go around. The ending is chock-full of surprises.

Greek mythology plays a key role in the story (several myths are told by Gen and the magus, and Gen must steal the stone from a temple which is protected by gods and goddesses), but I have had a distaste for myths since reading a book of them in the fourth grade, so to have them so prevalent throughout didn't really make the book immediately appealing to me.

The whole plot revolves around Gen, the magus and his two apprentices, and a soldier. I am not one to appreciate it when authors add a female or two in the hopes of appealing to a larger readership, BUT I will say that this story lacked some interest for me, and I think it was maybe because it was missing a girl (or that it was full of myths :-)).

I listened to this one (you know, all those hours of packing, cleaning, and unpacking), and the narrator was fine. But I did think that the way the voices were described in the book didn't always match with this narrator's particular interpretation. (For example, Turner describes Gen's voice as being on the rough and uneducated side, and I didn't feel like this was portrayed at all.)

The story itself was pretty slow-paced for me (especially with the ancient myth detour every other chapter), but the ending was fantastic. (And if there's anything that will instantly redeem a book for me, it's a great ending.) The whole time, I had the lurking feeling that there were some things that didn't quite make sense and that there was some secrecy among the characters. I don't want to give anything away, but let's just say that Gen is even more sly and cunning than I originally thought, and everything just plays out delightfully (except for the traitor...shhhh...).

So to sum it up, it wasn't my favorite book, but the ending was so good that I have no regrets reading it.

(Side note: everything I've looked at classifies this book as young adult, but it felt more middle-grade to me. I wonder if that's because the middle-grade category has matured in content in the last 16 years?)

Dead End in Norvelt by Jack Gantos

I like to put things on hold at the library. And I exercise this right quite...um...liberally. What this means is that my hold list is usually maxed out at 25 items. It also means that almost without fail, items I've been waiting for for a long time all converge on the library at the same time and leave me completely swamped.

As soon as I found out that Dead End in Norvelt won the 2012 Newbery, I reserved the audiobook. But wouldn't you know it? After waiting for six weeks, it came at just the wrong time. I returned it without listening to a word. I put it on hold again. After waiting for another several weeks, it arrived with another pile of long-awaited books. I took it back.  By the time I reserved it for the third time, the post-Newbery rush had died down, and I received it immediately when I had plenty of time to listen to and enjoy it. And it was the perfect summer read, so I'm glad I waited anyway.

Set in the 1960's, Dead End in Norvelt is about 12-year-old Jack Gantos, who is grounded for the entire summer due to the accidental firing of his father's gun AND the purposeful mowing down of his mother's plot of corn. The grounding is only temporarily lifted anytime he has to help his rheumatic neighbor, Miss Volker, write up the obituaries of the "original Norvelters" as they pass away. Besides that, his father is building an airplane and some angry, revenge-hungry Hell's Angels are setting homes on fire, so even with the grounding, the summer isn't too dull. But when the old ladies start dying with increasing frequency, the whole town begins to suspect that things are not as innocent as they seem...

Turns out, although heavily fictionalized, this story is built on a foundation of truth. According to an author interview I listened to, Jack really did live in Norvelt, one of Eleanor Roosevelt's project towns. He really did have epic nosebleeds. And there really was a Miss Volker, although she had a different name. I wish the interview had been longer. I would have loved for him to go through the story piece by piece separating the fact from fiction. Then again, maybe knowing what wasn't true would have made the book lose some of its appeal.

When this won the Newbery, I heard titterings of disappointment all around the internet. No one expected it to win. And, once it surprised everyone and did win, many thought it was undeserved. I know there were some strong contenders among the favorites, but after finishing this book, I had no trouble giving it my whole-hearted, two-thumbs-up approval as a Newbery medal winner. Here are some reasons why:

• Jack exhibits tremendous character growth. The story begins with him making some stupid decisions that lead to unpleasant consequences. As he helps Miss Volker, learns more about the history of Norvelt and history in general, and spends more time with his parents, he becomes kinder, more sensitive, smarter, and more independent. In the final scene, during a critical moment, he has the choice to either do something stupid again or make a more mature decision. I think many 11- and 12-year-old boys will be able to relate to Jack's decisions, and hopefully, man up and make the right decisions themselves.
• The book is full of history: Jack reads about it in his bedroom; Miss Volker tells about it in her candid way. It's interesting and exciting, and each event has a point and moves Jack's story forward. I love it when learning doesn't feel forced. And it doesn't feel forced here.
• It's funny. I guess some people think a funny book shouldn't win the Newbery, but why not? I love reading a book that makes me laugh out loud. And there were a lot of those moments in this book. 
• For example, when the whole fleet of Hell's Angels come roaring into town, Jack gets really nervous and starts doing jumping jacks and shouts, "Welcome to Norvelt! We are a friendly town." I don't know why, but this scene struck me as incredibly funny.
• One more example: Jack's nose bleeds whenever he gets nervous or scared or sick about anything. This leads to many funny scenarios, not the least of which occurs when Miss Volker operates on his nose (twice). In the middle of one of the procedures, the phone rings, and she answers and says, "Make it fast. I'm in the middle of a nose job." Maybe you have to be immersed in the story and intimately acquainted with Miss Volker for that to be funny, but I laughed.
• There is mystery and suspense and danger. I have to admit I didn't love the ending. I thought there were some unmet expectations that were never adequately explained, but overall I liked this aspect of the story.

And now a word about the audio:

Although I wasn't reading great reviews about the book itself, I was hearing only glowing reports about the audio version of it. Jack Gantos himself narrated it, and everyone said it was just phenomenal. So, knowing that the format of a book can make or break my experience with it, I knew I had to go with the audio.

There's something about having the author read his own words that casts them in just the right light. Jack Gantos isn't an exceptional reader per se (it's not like he use a wide variety of accents and voices like some narrators), but he gets the inflections just right...exactly like he heard them in his head when he wrote the book, and that counts for a lot. For example, when Jack (the boy) goes over to Miss Volker's at the beginning of the story, she has her hands in a boiling pot of wax. She's talking to Jack but her voice is strained and tight and chopped up because she's in so much pain because of the heat. Jack Gantos (the author) chopped up the words just right to give it the right effect. I just felt like having him as the narrator helped me get to know the characters on a deeper level because I saw them more through the eyes of the one who created them. I can't recommend the audiobook highly enough.

I read a review on Goodreads that said an award-winning novel shouldn't just be entertaining or humorous but that there should also be a "universal, worthwhile theme and dynamic characters who grow and change from their experiences..." This reviewer said Dead End in Norvelt lacked those two elements. With all that I just said above, I guess you know I disagree. I felt like the point of the book was something along these lines:

Don't just learn ABOUT history; learn FROM it; let it influence your decisions and change you. Don't make history repeat itself.

I think Jack (the boy) did just that, and Jack (the author) described it perfectly. Seeing that change made the book not only worth it for me, but also worthy of the Newbery it garnered.