What I Read in July

July was a good reading month for me, both in terms of quantity and quality. I was satisfied and content in every way.

1. America's First Daughter by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoi
This was my favorite read from July, in part because it suited the month so perfectly (and you all know how I feel about a good, seasonal read).

It is a fictionalized account of Martha "Patsy" Jefferson (Thomas Jefferson's daughter). Her mother passed away when she was just ten years old, but not before securing a promise from Patsy that she would always take care of and protect her father. The promise itself seems fairly innocent on the surface--her father had just lost the love of his life; of course she would want to look after him and help him--but it has far-reaching consequences. Patsy is her father's secret keeper, pushing forward the image that the new nation expects and covering the human foibles that would turn people against him. She gives up her own heart to protect his.

Much of the story is embellished and dramatized for the sake of entertainment, but I found the author's note at the end of the novel to be completely fascinating (and impressive). Every care was taken to make the story as historically accurate as possible, but where facts were not known (in part probably because Patsy herself erased portions of incriminating history), plausible details were inserted. Regardless of what is or is not true, Patsy's life was a tragic one, and at times, the heartache is almost too much to bear.

I listened to this during our trip through the midwest last month (more on that in my next post) and found that this long novel (over 20 hours) was the perfect companion, especially because our trip went over the 4th of July holiday and ended at Mt. Rushmore where we all got a good look at Thomas Jefferson's stony features. In spite of its length, it was a compelling novel that I couldn't seem to listen to fast enough. For those who love historical fiction or emotional drama, I can't recommend it enough.

2. The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry
The Willoughbys are an old-fashioned family of father, mother, three sons, and one daughter. But they are not a happy family. The parents cannot stand the children (they "frequently forgot that they had children and became quite irritable when they were reminded of it"), and the children's feelings are mutual. Thus, they both devise plans to get rid of each other: the children suggest a vacation the parents can't turn down (volcanoes, alligator infested lakes, frozen mountain peaks--all perfect ways for them to meet their end), and the parents sneakily sell their house out from under the children while they're away.

With that brief introduction, I'm sure you can see that this is a morbid, irreverent, and even dastardly wicked plot. Being big fans of Roald Dahl, it's just the kind of book my kids and I love, and it certainly had a lot of potential going into it. However, it lost some momentum for me when it introduced a whole bunch of sub-characters (an abandoned baby, a grief-stricken candy inventor, a no-nonsense nanny, an organizational freak, a lonely boy, and a love-sick postmaster). It was wildly entertaining to see how the different plot lines all eventually entwined with one another, but I think my interest waned because I didn't love some of the characters, but I felt forced to pay attention to them so I wouldn't get lost.

Still though, my kids loved it from beginning to end and always begged for me to read and then keep reading. There's also a delightful glossary (with explanations such as, "Irascible means having outbursts of bad temper. I myself had a very irascible third-grade teacher and it made for a miserable year.") and a bibliography of famous books at the end of the book. And it's Lois Lowry. So you know that even if I'm complaining about the plot, it isn't all bad. Not by a long shot.

3. Jean and Johnny by Beverly Cleary
As a teenager, I remember reading Fifteen by Beverly Cleary and loving it, so I wanted to try one of her other young adult novels (in part, to help fulfill my goal of reading three pre-1970 young adult novels).

I honestly don't know what today's teenager would think about this book. I'm sure they would find it a little bit cheesy and a lot old-fashioned (because I myself kind of felt that way about it), but I wonder if they'd also be able to see past some of those things to the lessons of the story:

• Jean makes almost all of her own clothes because, even though she is just fifteen, her parents expect her to furnish her own wardrobe and handmade clothes are so much cheaper than ready made garments. Even though it would be just the opposite today (I speak from experience that you cannot save money by making your own clothes), the principles of frugality, contentment, and gratitude are still needed.
• Johnny is a real jerk. At first, I thought Beverly Cleary was actually casting him as the perfect male lead, and I was absolutely disgusted. (When Johnny takes Jean out for a soda and makes her listen to his entire radio program with himself as host, I laughed at how ridiculous it was.) But Beverly Cleary comes around, and so does Jean, and I think it would help all teenage girls see through the phoniness of so many boys.
• Jean refuses a kiss on a first date. As someone who held my kisses close, I gave a silent cheer for Jean's level head.
• The family dynamic in Jean's home is sweet: her father and mother sit around in the evenings, meeting their daughters' dates; Jean looks up to her older sister, Sue, and seeks her advice, but then rejects it when it doesn't fit with what she wants to do. It all feels very realistic while at the same time feeling just a little too good to be true.

In spite of my initial reservations, I ended up enjoying this story and wish it was the kind of book teenagers wanted to read today. It is the very definition of wholesome.

4. Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick

This was the book we settled on for our little family book club, and it was a big success. Even Mike, who hasn't read a physical book in probably a couple of years, really liked it and was actually the first one finished with it.

It's definitely a book that must be read, not listened to, because half of the story is told through pictures. Ben's story takes place in 1977, beginning in Gunflint Lake, Michigan and ending in New York City, and is told through words; Rose's story begins in 1927, beginning in Hoboken, New Jersey and also ending in New York City and is told through pictures. It is an interesting format, one that moves along at a rapid pace because you read two pages and then you look at the next twenty. 

When we had our book club meeting, I asked everyone to tell us about their favorite moment. Mine was easy. It was the part where the two stories collided, and I turned the page and saw Ben's face for the first time. I think I actually gasped. I probably can't tell you about each person's favorite moment without giving away major parts of the plot, but almost all of them were pictures, which I found so interesting especially since they told me they liked Ben's story (the one told in words) better than Rose's. I think pictures lodge in our memories a little more easily and maybe trigger emotions faster as well.

There are some mature themes with this one, not the least of which is that Ben's mother and father were never married (and Ben never even met his father). Mike and I were a little concerned about this, mostly because six-year-old Bradley was reading it, and we didn't know if we wanted to get into any hard explanations. But adults see very different things than kids, and because this relationship was merely alluded to without going into any sort of detail, it went right over his head. And we let it. Instead we focused on Ben and his adventures in the Museum of Natural History (think From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler) and Rose's loneliness in her quiet, protected world, and we marveled at this masterful storytelling. 

5. Courage to Be You: Inspiring Lessons From an Unexpected Journey by Gail Miller
I'm going to be completely honest with this one (even though I'm sure many readers will not share my opinion): the overall message was good, a few of the stories were interesting, and there was a smattering of memorable insights, but from the beginning this felt like a trite and formulaic inspirational read that was only selling copies because of who the author was (wife of Larry H. Miller). Whew, that was a long sentence, but sometimes it's best to just get it all out in one fell swoop.

The writing itself was overly simplistic and bland (despite being co-authored by Jason Wright) and was filled with many self-deprecating statements such as, "My marriage wasn't perfect; I'm not perfect; I might look like I have it all figured out, but I don't." I'm not saying that these statements weren't sincere; they probably were. But the tone just struck me as a little bit lofty even while she was trying very hard not to be.

My favorite chapter was, "Love to Serve--Serve to Love," where she shared this thought, "The only people I don't love are those I don't know yet." That alone was worth reading the book for, and I wish I could keep this statement at the forefront of my mind and really internalize and live it. In spite of not loving this book, I think Gail Miller really exemplifies this and the other principles she attempted to teach, as did her husband, Larry.

6. The Boy on the Porch by Sharon Creech
This was recommended to me by a friend a couple of years ago, but it wasn't until I was searching for an audiobook that was available for immediate download (an increasingly difficult feat) that I remembered it and finally listened to it.

It's a short book, which sometimes makes a story somewhat forgettable, but this one had a sweet poignancy that I think will stay with me. That said, I wouldn't have minded hanging out with the characters for a little longer.

When middle-aged couple, John and Marta, find a boy on their porch one morning, they are surprised and also a little disturbed. Try as they might, they can find no information about the boy save for a cryptic piece of paper from someone (his parents? a guardian?) that says they'll be back for him. What's more, the boy can't (or won't) talk, and so John and Marta are left to deduce as much as they can. Although the whole situation is strange, they both have big hearts that have been longing for a child to love. And so their relationship grows quickly and easily, until one day, when they've begun to assume it will go on like this forever, it comes to an abrupt end.

This novel took an unexpected turn toward foster parenting that I absolutely loved. My cousin and her husband have been foster parents for several years, and after I finished this book, I immediately told her about it. Even though it's a middle-grade book, John and Marta's self-sacrifice and non-judgmental warmth will touch the hearts of children and adults alike. Foster parenting is a roller coaster ride of emotions and is not for the faint of heart. This book celebrates those courageous individuals who are willing to share a piece of their hearts with others.

What have you been reading lately? Have you read any of these books? Tell me in the comments!

What I Read in May

I enjoyed everything I read in May, but there's only one book I wish I could gift to every parent in the whole, entire world. Read on to find out which one that was:

1. The One-in-a-Million Boy by Monica Wood
This book was on Anne Bogel's 2016 Summer Reading Guide, and I've heard her mention it many, many times since then. (It's a book she says she never would have read if not for a bookseller's insistence.) When the audio was on sale a few months ago, I purchased it, and I very much enjoyed listening to it. And even though I didn't read it in the summer, I can wholeheartedly get behind it as a perfect summer read.

Ona Vitcus, a 104-year-old Lithuanian woman, has grown quite fond of the odd little Boy Scout who comes over to help with jobs around her house when his father shows up in his place one Saturday. She doesn't know he is the boy's father at first and goes off about how she thought she finally had a Boy Scout who was reliable and responsible, but now she sees that he was just the same as the others. But then it comes out that the boy passed away suddenly and Quinn, the boy's father, who was never close to the boy when he was alive, is now there to fulfill the last few weeks of his son's obligation.

As the story progresses, we learn more about the boy, who was obsessed with the Guinness Book of World Records and was convinced that Ona Vitcus had a chance at being the oldest living person (if she can hold out for another thirteen years or so and get proof of her birth date . . . ). He asks Ona if he can record her life story. It's for a merit badge for scouts, but as Ona talks, she shares things she hasn't thought about in a couple of lifetimes. Meanwhile, the story moves forward in the present where Quinn develops his own friendship with Ona and confronts some of the issues of his past and the guilt he feels at not having been the father he should have.

The structure was fascinating because even though the book is about the boy, he stays somewhat concealed behind the recording of Ona Vitcus' life story, so even when we're in the past, we're only catching snippets of him. We never even learn his name. Everything about him is pieced together by the way he interacted with and influenced others, even after he had passed away.

There were some really humorous moments (Ona Vitcus is a real firecracker), and my favorite one was when Ona takes Quinn and his twice-ex-wife, Belle, on a road trip to visit her son to see if he has her birth certificate. Ona gave up this son for adoption when he was a brand-new baby, so she never had much of a relationship with him, and she was quite irritated at finding him a ninety-year-old man in a nursing home with a wandering memory.

I loved this quote: "Can memory be revisited to allow us to see now what we didn't see then?" If I had to distill the point of this story into one sentence, it would be that. Remembering events from the past enables the characters to see things in a new light and move forward with renewed hope.

Content note: Some bad language, including heavy use of the f-word in one scene; some offstage immorality.

2. Ramona's World by Beverly Cleary
We knew this day would come, but that doesn't mean we weren't sad when it finally did. We finished the last book in the Ramona Quimby series, and it felt like the end of an era. For the last five (six?) years, we've been slowly working our way through both the Henry Huggins and Ramona Quimby series (which I kind of think of as one big series since there is some overlap between characters). We finished the last Henry book over a year ago, but we held off on the last Ramona book because we've been pacing ourselves so that Ramona's age matched with Aaron's age. But with the end of Aaron's 4th grade year fast approaching, we knew we couldn't hold out any longer.

So we read it. And it was a sweet end to the series. The slow maturing of Ramona through each book is masterfully done. By the time she's in fourth grade, she has cast off a lot of her childish habits while maintaining her spunky creativity, which still leads to some embarrassing accidents (I think the scene where Ramona falls through her friend's dining room ceiling will remain on my kids' favorite list forever).

The blow of having these two beloved series come to an end can only be softened by one thing: Start over. (And, incidentally, that's exactly what Bradley and I have been doing. Beezus and Ramona, we love you.)

P.S. In writing this review, I was shocked to discover that I never wrote up a review of the seventh book in this series, Ramona Forever. I don't know how this happened. One of those unintentional oversights.

3. McBroom's Wonderful One-Acre Farm by Sid Fleischman
When I was in probably the fourth or fifth grade, I had to write a tall tale. To learn the key elements and style of a tall tale, I read stories about Paul Bunyan and Pecos Bill. If I'd known about Josh McBroom, I could have added him to the list, and I think I would have enjoyed his story most of all. I mean, how could you not like a tale about a farmer with eleven children who buys an eighty-acre farm, only to find out he's been hoodwinked and seventy-nine of those acres lie below ground. But then he finds out that the soil on his one-acre is the most fertile he has ever known. It can grow beautifully ripe vegetables in under an hour and a forest overnight. Perhaps McBroom didn't get taken after all.

The story is rich with the exaggerated language of tall tales:

". . . when I poked the gun barrel out the window, well, the wind bent it like an angle iron. The buckshot flew due south. I found out later it brought down a brace of ducks over Mexico."

"The air got so thick with hoppers you could swing a bucket once and fill it twice."

"Those infernal dinner guests had eaten the socks right out of my shoes . . . All they left were the holes in the toes." 

Anytime McBroom needs his family, he calls all eleven of his children in one long breath. Of course we had to try it out for ourselves, and the boys and I each took a turn trying to remember all eleven names and stringing them together just like McBroom: "Willjillhesterchesterpeterpollytimtommarylarryandlittleclarinda!"

My one complaint is that this book was much, much too short, but luckily there are more McBroom adventures, which I'm sure we'll read this summer. I can't recommend this enough as a great summer readaloud.

4. Refugee by Alan Gratz
I think this book has been quite popular on some school reading lists, but I hadn't heard anything about it until it was chosen as the middle grade novel for our May book club.

It follows three refugees: Joseph escaping Nazi Germany in 1938; Isabel leaving Cuba in 1994; and Mahmoud fleeing Syria in 2015. For the time periods and cultures and circumstances being so different, it was amazing to see the similarities between their stories.

Maybe too similar . . .

The book was presented in a way that really showcased the parallel nature of their journeys, and I'll admit that at times it seemed a little too contrived or formulaic. For example, first we had the set of chapters where a character fell into the ocean; next came the chapters where each main character did something brave and heroic to help his family survive; those were followed by the chapters where a loved one was lost. Subtle, this book was not.

I understand that it was written for children, but I don't believe the similarities needed to be so overt in order for kids to pick up on them.

However, in spite of the less-than-subtle parallels, I still ended up learning a great deal about these three events, one of which is, sadly, not finished. I appreciated the author's note at the end, which shared a little bit more about the historical accuracy of each story. And I loved the connections between all three characters at the end, even if it was a little contrived.

So I would definitely recommend this book, and I plan on having Aaron and Maxwell listen to it over the summer.

5. The Read-Aloud Family by Sarah Mackenzie
I saved my favorite for last. Oh, this book. I loved every part of it. I spent the whole time nodding my head and fist pumping the air and shouting, "Yes, Yes, YES!!!!" Everything I love and believe in about reading aloud as a family was validated among these pages.

For those who may not know, Sarah Mackenzie is the host of the fabulous podcast, The Read-Aloud Revival, which, as the title suggests, is all about igniting, or rekindling, as the case might be, a love of literature and stories as a family and in the process building lasting connections with one another.

The book is a continuation of this topic. The first part looks at the why behind reading aloud, the second part shares strategies for how to make reading aloud successful, and the third part shares
lists of potential read-alouds that will be enjoyed by all ages.

I obviously didn't need to be convinced that reading aloud is a great use of my time as a mother, so some might wonder if I actually found this book to be all that helpful. But I did! It fired up my passion just in time for summer vacation; it inspired me to make reading to Ian more of a priority (I admit that I find reading to one-year-olds a little bit exasperating); it helped me know how to start up conversations with my kids about what we're reading together and what they're reading on their own (seriously, the chapters on mastering the art of conversation and how to ask compelling questions were a goldmine of information); and the book lists at the end brought out my nerdy side--I read them straight through while simultaneously putting at least a dozen of the recommendations on hold at the library. They weren't just a rehashed version of other book lists; they included very new and current books and were highly curated to be the most beneficial in a read-aloud setting.

I plan to make this one of my go-to gifts for new moms because honestly, what better tradition could you start than one of reading aloud as a family?

What did you read in May? I'd love to hear!

What I Read in March

March was a good reading month for me, especially considering the fact that one of the books I read will probably be one of my top five reads in 2018. Keep reading to find out which one it was . . .

1. Zinnia and the Bees by Danielle Davis
Most books ask the reader to suspend their disbelief on some level., but I'm going to be perfectly frank and say that I just couldn't do it with this one. I wanted to like it because Zinnia, the protagonist, is a knitter, which I found immediately endearing. But when a truck filled with beehives crashes and the hundreds of liberated bees choose to collectively land in Zinnia's unruly curly hair, I was skeptical. But then the bees proceed to stay on top of her head for something like the next three weeks. She hates it (understandably) but just pulls up a hood and carries on with the other traumas in her life (her brother's abrupt departure, an emotionally distant mother, and friend problems). One has to wonder why a) no one else notices the buzzing bees, b) Zinnia doesn't ask someone to drive her outside the city or at least to a park where the bees could find an appropriate home, or c) Zinnia's new friend, a brilliant naturalist, doesn't come up with any ideas himself (even though he says he'll help her). If the events in the book took place during a single day, maybe this would work, but over several weeks, no way.

The other thing I couldn't handle, and this is actually a big pet peeve of mine in general, is that Zinnia's mother is an austere, insensitive, unloving mother (and always has been from the sounds of it), but then one day, she flips things around and begins to invest in their relationship. Of course, a big event triggers this, so maybe it isn't completely unbelievable, but I still have a really hard time with someone being painted as completely awful and then expecting me to just go along with this miraculous change in attitude and temperament. If this is going to be asked of me, then you have to give me at least a little glimmer that such a change could be possible before it actually takes place.

I can appreciate the fact that there are different books for different tastes, and this one just wasn't for me

2. Ellen Tebbits by Beverly Cleary
We're not quite ready to read the last book in the Ramona series. She and Aaron have grown up together, matching year for year, and now they're both in fourth grade, which is when the final book takes place. We'll read it in the next couple of months, but it will be bittersweet for sure.

In the meantime, we read Ellen Tebbits, which was new to me as well as to my kids. Ellen has a quieter personality than Ramona, but that doesn't mean she avoids childhood drama. In fact, the fight between her and her best friend, Austine, is probably one of the most realistic squabbles turned serious that I've ever read.

I always love Beverly Cleary's books for their strong time stamp. For example, at one point, Ellen and her mother go to the department store to pick out a pattern and material for a new dress. Can you imagine going to Nordstrom's to shop for fabric?! But I guess in an era when sewing for your entire family was in vogue, it would make sense to sell what the mothers would buy.

I gave Maxwell Otis Spofford for his birthday, which is the followup to this book. I thought I would read it aloud as well, but at the time, we were still in the middle of Ellen Tebbits, and by the time we finished, he and Aaron had both already read it on their own.

3. Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

This was my book club's pick for March, and I'll be surprised if it doesn't make it into my top five books of 2018. It was so good, but it's not for the faint of heart.

It was one of those books that left me pacing around the house, shouting, "This is happening in MY country?! During MY lifetime?!" "And also, "Our justice system is broken. BROKEN. And so corrupt." Mike's probably glad I'm done with it and that I processed all my feelings at book club so he doesn't have to hear about it anymore.

The book is by Bryan Stevenson, a lawyer who founded the Equal Justice Initiative, a nonprofit organization that strives to provide fair trials and secure humane sentences for all prisoners . In the book, he exposed many of the holes in our justice system--things like bribery, insufficient evidence, dishonesty, corrupt officials, and racial prejudices. He also shared many stories, which opened my eyes to the truth in painful ways.

One of these was about Walter, a man who was falsely accused of murder and sentenced to death row. The only evidence against him was a shaky testimony given by a man who later admitted he had been bribed by police in exchange for a lesser sentence for a crime he had committed. It was frightening to see how easily Walter was convicted of murder and how difficult it was to reverse that decision (even with plenty of evidence supporting his innocence).

But ultimately, the book was about mercy. Bryan was adamant that "Each of us is more than the worst thing we've ever done." I believe that, and that was something I tried to stress during our book club discussion. In this book, the criminals are the "good guys," the ones being wronged, and the ones the readers end up rooting for. But I was kind of amused how quickly we started pointing our fingers and condemning some of the other people in the stories: the prison guard, the judge, the white police officer, and the nosy neighbor. It was as if we needed a target for all of the anger and indignation we were feeling. But those people were also "more than the worst thing they've ever done." It was hard to admit, but they needed mercy, too.

Anyway, you can probably tell that this is a book for which I could easily have written a whole review. Maybe I should have. But I highly recommend it nonetheless.

4. Seek This Jesus by Neill Marriott
I became a fan of Neill Marriott the moment I first heard her endearing southern accent during General Conference. Her talks have been some of the most memorable of my life, and I think about them often, in all sorts of situations. (Side note: she was released from the Young Women General Presidency this past weekend during General Conference, and it made me want to cry. I feel so sad that I won't get to hear any more talks from her.)

This is a slim book, but I loved every word of it. Turns out, Sister Marriott has a way with words on paper just as much as she does when she is speaking. In fact, there were times when her voice seemed to leap off of the page as she shared her experiences.

This was a good mix of personal stories and bold insights. One of the most impactful stories for me was about one of her daughters when she was in elementary school. She didn't have any friends and felt so lonely at school. Sister Marriott said she found out the times her daughter's class went to recess. She said, "Each day at 10:10 am, I dropped to my knees wherever I was in the house. The kitchen floor, the family room rug, the bathroom tiles, all became prayer places as I petitioned the Lord on behalf of my lonely daughter." But the thing that made my eyes prick up instantly with tears was this: "That was when she needed me, and that was when she would have me."  I loved the way she accessed the power of prayer on her daughter's behalf.

I also loved this thought, which actually goes along perfectly with my theme for 2018 (which I still haven't written about . . .): "The temporal world rushes into any space in our lives that we will give it, filling our spiritual needs with good but mostly temporary activities."

This is a book I'm sure I'll revisit frequently, probably even later this year as part of my rereading goal. But first, I have to loan it to my mom.

5. Hello, Universe by Erin Entranda Kelly
This was the winner of the 2018 Newbery Medal. I had never even heard of it beforehand, which either shows that I was not great about following Newbery news ahead of time (which is true) or that it wasn't a favorite to win. Regardless, I put the audio on hold as soon as the winners were announced, and then I flew through it as soon as I got it.

It follows four characters: Virgil (a shy boy who is being bullied by Chet and is secretly smitten with Valencia), Valencia (a deaf girl who loves nature, is tormented by a recurring bad dream, and doesn't realize Virgil exists), Chet (the aforementioned bully), and Kaori (a self-proclaimed psychic who happens to have both Virgil and Valencia as (her only) clients). The bulk of the story takes place on a single Saturday when all four characters happen to cross paths and interact in a rather uncanny way. It begins when Chet meets Virgil in the woods and drops Virgil's backpack (which happens to be holding his pet guinea pig, Gulliver) down a deep, dark well.

I had mixed feelings with this one. I liked the story and the characters, and I absolutely adored the ending, but my overall reaction was surprise that it had won the Newbery. The writing was good, but I wasn't blown away by it (although Kaori did get me to laugh out loud several times). The plot line was interesting but not super intricate. And it was just a little bit on the short side. I had a difficult time seeing what set it apart from other beautifully executed middle-grade novels. I liked it for sure (much more than Zinnia and the Bees--see above) and would recommend it, but it's not one I'm rushing out to buy for our personal shelves.

What did you read in March? I'm always up for new recommendations!

Review x 3: Muggie Maggie, Zita the Spacegirl, and "Who Could That Be at This Hour?"

What do all three of these books have in common? Not a thing, except that they're all books my kids were reading, and then I decided to read them too (and cross a few more books off my reading goals list in the process).

1. Muggie Maggie by Beverly Cleary
Bradley earned this book after completing his first twenty hours in our summer reading program. When he started to read it, I asked him if I could read it too since it was a book of Beverly Cleary's that I'd never read before.

Maggie is in third grade, which means it's time to learn that one thing she's been dreading . . . cursive. She can't see the point of it, and so she refuses to even try. But then one day, her teacher makes her the message monitor, and the messages she's carrying back and forth look so intriguing, especially when she recognizes her own name among the curves and loops of the teachers' handwriting. Unfortunately though, her cursive reading skills are lacking as much as her cursive writing skills, but suddenly she has the right motivation to learn.

When I gave Bradley this book, I hadn't taken into account all of the cursive passages, which, not even being in kindergarten yet, he couldn't read. So he needed either Aaron or I to interpret them for him. However, the fact that he couldn't read them led to the book being even more realistic because he could understand Maggie's frustration at not being able to read them either.

For my part, I was surprised by how short the book was. I hesitate to question anything Beverly Cleary does because I think she's an absolute genius, but honestly, I felt like it could have been turned into a regular length novel quite easily just by expanding what was already there just a little bit, and I would have liked that. There just wasn't enough there to make it very memorable, which is really a shame because it's a fun story.

2. Zita the Spacegirl by Ben Hatke
My kids have been on such a graphic novel kick this summer. I can't seem to keep them in books, but they don't seem to mind rereading a book three, four, or even five times before we take it back to the library. I find myself making rules like, "You have to read another book before you can read that one again." Or, "You can read that book again, but you can't count it towards your reading prize time." But I try not to do that too often because I really don't mind at all if they read graphic novels. I'm so glad I made the goal to try out a graphic novel myself several years ago because I think it gave me an appreciation for the genre that I didn't have before, and that in turn has made me more accepting with my kids' own reading. I'm actually hoping to do a post in the near future about some of their favorite graphic novel series, but I thought I should read some of them first. Hence, Zita the Spacegirl.

Zita didn't start out as a space girl. She and her friend, Joseph, are playing (on earth) when they stumble upon a crater made by a meteoroid. In the crater, they find a kind of device containing a large red button. Not heeding Joseph's advice, Zita pushes the button and watches helplessly as her friend is beamed away from earth. So she does what any good friend worth her salt would do and pushes the button again . . .

Out of all the graphic novels I've read so far, this one was not my favorite. But that has everything to do with the fact that it's science fiction (not my go-to genre) and nothing to do with the actual storytelling and characters (which are quite excellent). I would not hesitate to recommend this, and if it's any indication for how much my kids love these books, when Max saw me writing this review, he tried to steal the book away from me, saying, "I just want to read a few of my favorite parts again." And he's already read it at least four times.

Also, my kids and I loved watching this video about Ben Hatke. He seems like a really cool guy.

3. "Who Could That Be at This Hour?" by Lemony Snicket
It is with some embarrassment that I admit I wanted to read this book solely because I loved the cover and the title of the series (All the Wrong Questions). When I posted about it on Instagram, someone mentioned that it was narrated by the same character as in A Series of Unfortunate Events. Having never read that series myself, I hadn't actually realized this series was a prequel to that one. Oops.

But it must be true because the narrator of this one is indeed Lemony Snicket. In fact, he's more than the narrator; he's the main character. He is nearly thirteen and just about to embark on his first case. Only, things get a little mixed up and he winds up with the most incompetent of chaperones, S. Theodora Markson. They set off on a search for a missing statue, which was apparently stolen and meet a host of interesting characters along the way. But it turns out, Lemony really should have stayed behind and met his associate (not the same person as his chaperone) in a tunnel under the city. But he didn't do that. And now he has to wonder who is behind this complicated mystery and if things are going exactly according to that person's sinister plan?

I gave this book to Aaron for his birthday (again, because I loved the cover), and so when he started to read it, I picked it up, too. We both enjoyed it, but me probably a little more than him but a little bit less than I thought I was going to. Does that make sense? I think I would have liked it more if I'd read at least the first book in A Series of Unfortunate Events first. Even though this book technically comes before, I think there were little details that would have been more meaningful (and maybe less confusing) with that groundwork. But I don't know. Someone who has read both should let me know.

While I like a good mystery, I felt like I was floundering a little with this one and couldn't exactly grasp what was going on or even what the characters were supposed to be figuring out. But the writing itself made up for my confusion because it was just so entertaining and witty. And I think that's why Aaron didn't enjoy it as much as I did--he spent half the book feeling confused as well, but he doesn't care about the writing enough to appreciate the little inside jokes and jabs.

Something else I didn't realize when I started it is by reading the first one, you're basically committing to read all four books in the series, and I just don't know if I have it in me. Maybe. But I realize the clock is ticking, and if I don't read the second one sometime in the next three months, I'd have to reread this one first because my memory is that bad.

Anyway, I guess the takeaway from all of this is that if you've read and enjoyed A Series of Unfortunate Events, you'll probably like this one. But if you haven't read it (or didn't enjoy it), I'd probably hold off on All the Wrong Questions.

Thoughts on any of these books? Please share!

Review x 3: Tuck Everlasting, Ribsy, and Eight Cousins

I'm determined to get caught up on my reviews, even if it means making them a little shorter and combining them together. So here I go with three recent reads: one that I read with Aaron, another that I read aloud to the boys, and another that I listened to by myself.

1. Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
So far this year, Aaron and I have read a nonfiction book about WWI, a graphic novel, a fictional story set in current times, a fantasy, and now, a modern classic.

Although published in 1975, Tuck Everlasting takes place in 1881. Winnie Foster imagines what life might be like beyond her white picket fence, and one day she gets her wish, although it's not anything like what she imagines. She meets the Tuck family in the woods that borders her home. Every ten years they come back to this spot, to a hidden spring that burbles from a large tree. When Winnie attempts to drink some of the water, they adamantly discourage her, and they're forced to tell her the reason why: they drank from that spring eighty-seven years ago . . . and they haven't aged a day since.

Aaron is such an easy going kid and will read pretty much anything I hand to him without complaint. Because of that, we've really been able to explore a variety of genres together, and I've been able to get a little better feel for his reading tastes. Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes was definitely his favorite out of the group I mentioned above (and he has since read the sequel and branched into other fantasy series on his own), and Tuck Everlasting, I'm sorry to say, was probably his least favorite.

I wasn't expecting that. After all, it's short, introduces interesting characters, and has a totally unique premise. The length was definitely a blessing. But in retrospect, although I found the characters interesting, they weren't actually very relatable to an eight-year-old boy. Winnie is the only child in the story; the others are all adults and kind of old-fashioned adults at that. And then, those deep, moral questions, which I found so fascinating and thought-provoking, actually didn't interest Aaron very much at all. There's a big difference between how you view your own mortality when you're eight versus thirty-one, and at this stage in his life, it probably already feels like he's going to live forever, so he doesn't need a magic fountain to help him out (Aaron didn't actually tell me any of this--I'm making my own inferences based on his reaction).

The book picked up a little for him at the end: clubbing someone over the head, going to jail, and then busting out went a long way to perk up his attention, but I don't think it made the story rocket to the top of his favorites list by any means. Although technically middle-grade, this is a story that definitely seems to grow in depth and meaning with age, so hopefully he'll revisit it when he's a little older.

2. Ribsy by Beverly Cleary
Oh, this is bittersweet. So, so bittersweet. We read Henry Huggins over three years ago and have slowly, one perfect book at a time, worked our way through the series, ending with this final installment. Since I never read this series as a child, each book, each adventure, each funny little mishap has been new for me as well, and I have treasured, absolutely treasured, reading these books with my boys. Anytime we've been in a readaloud rut or just finished a really long book, we've turned to Henry for some reprieve, and he's always been exactly the sort of pick-me-up we needed. I don't know what we'll do without him to fall back on.

This one is slightly different than the other ones in the series because Ribsy, always a lively character, takes center stage when he gets lost on a rainy Saturday in the mall parking lot. Each chapter finds him in a new place (with a large family, with a sweet old woman, with a lonely little boy). Everyone can't help but like Ribsy--he's such an agreeable dog--but he is desperate to get home to Henry, and Henry, on the other side, is desperate to find him.

Somehow Beverly Cleary always knows how to make things come full circle, and the end of this series is no exception. You might remember that Henry found and adopted Ribsy in the very first book, and the climax of that particular story happened when Ribsy's previous owner turned up and wanted him back. The boys let Ribsy choose, and Ribsy chose Henry.

But a part of me has always wondered, Did Ribsy really like Henry more than that other boy, or had he just gotten used to the new kid who fed him and played with him? This book is the answer to that question because, again and again, Ribsy is given the chance to forget about Henry and get settled into a new home (he finds many good ones to choose from), but he won't do it. In spite of food, shelter, and friendship, he wants his boy. The truth is, he really does love Henry best.

My only consolation with this series ending is that at least we still have three Ramona books left, and we like her just as much as Henry (that, and we can always reread, which is its own kind of delight). 

3. Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott
At the beginning of this year, I made the goal to read a book by Louisa May Alcott. It was one of my more specific reading goals for sure, but it came about because Little Men was one of the best books I read last year, and so exploring more of Louisa May Alcott's works was a high priority for me. After a lot debating back and forth, I decided to leave Jo and her boys for awhile and meet some new characters, and they did not disappoint.

When 12-year-old Rose Campbell is orphaned, she is welcomed into her large and close-knit extended family. Her chief guardian is Uncle Alec, but they live with her two elderly aunts and are surrounded on all sides by more aunts and uncles and eight boisterous cousins (all boys). At first Rose, who is somewhat sickly, is overwhelmed, but Uncle Alec soon gets some color back into her cheeks and strength back into her bones as he encourages a healthy appetite, lots of outdoor activities, and plenty of hands-on experiences. Even though her cousins are wild and obnoxious, they are also surprisingly sweet and absolutely adore Rose. Luckily, she uses her power and influence over them for good, and along with Uncle Alec's parenting methods, which are rather unorthodox for the times, she blossoms into a lovely young woman.

Some parts of this story are charmingly old-fashioned (and you can't help but be aware that it was published in 1874), but then there are other little gems scattered here and there that are surprisingly current and ahead of their times. There was one scene where Rose is wearing a tight belt around her little waist, and Uncle Alec insists that she loosen it so that she can breathe deeply and fill it out with a nice, healthy figure. He says: "If you dear little girls would only learn what real beauty is and not pinch and starve and bleach yourselves out so, you'd save an immense deal of time and money and pain. A happy soul in a healthy body makes the best sort of beauty for man or woman." Such wise advice, but something I sometimes struggle to remember myself and that many little girls are getting mixed messages of today.

If you can't already tell from the above quote, Uncle Alec is an all-around wonderful character and probably my favorite one in the book. He is adored and deeply respected by everyone, is experienced and intelligent, and is just so incredibly kind. No mention is ever made about a love interest, but I just wondered again and again how he couldn't be married. And yet, I think one of the reasons he was such a perfect guardian for Rose was because he was single. There was a quote in the book that I just loved, and this was it: "Fatherly and motherly hearts often beat warm and wise in the breasts of bachelor uncles and maiden aunts, and it is my private opinion that these worthy creatures are a beautiful provision of nature, for the cherishing of other people's children." I believe that, and as much as I want my younger siblings to find the person of their dreams and get married, there's a part of me that wishes they would just stay single so that they'll continue to love and adore my children.

Speaking of Rose's uncle and the rest of her family though, there was one thing about the story that I didn't really understand: for being such a sweet and close family, how could it be that Rose didn't really know any of them until after her father died? There isn't ever a hint of a falling out or any other type of quarrel that would have kept them apart, and yet, Rose doesn't seem to know any of her aunts, uncles, or cousins until she comes to live on Aunt Hill.

I'm so glad I had the goal this year to read something else by Louisa May Alcott. I think, just because of my love of Little Women, I always would have counted her among my favorite authors, but now I'm getting a much better feel for her books, and consequently, I love her even more. It's interesting because I think many people would think of her as an author who writes about little girls (because Little Women is her most well-known work), but now that I've read a couple more of her books, I would say that little boys factor into her writing very prominently. It's obvious from the way she writes about them that she loves little boys, and I feel a deep kinship with her because of that.

Without meaning to, I kind of put three classic children's authors into the same post! I'd love to hear your thoughts about and experiences with them and their books.

Review x 3: Ramona Quimby Age 8, The Twits, and Mathematicians Are People, Too

We ended our summer reading with books that were familiar, hilarious, and educational.

Ramona Quimby, Age 8 by Beverly Cleary

Being a child of the 80's and 90's meant that I was quite adept at using the "record" button on the VCR. Anytime there was something good on TV, I would stick in a blank VHS, record the show or movie, and then carefully label the outside (and the box).  Some people probably only recorded shows that they were going to miss, but I recorded anything I thought I might want to rewatch at some point. I could usually fit three movies or anywhere from six to twelve shows on one video, and it was a very economical way to stock up on my favorites (although, since we only had an antenna, we only got a few channels, and the quality was usually lacking.)

One favorite (and I think my mom actually recorded it when I was still quite young) was the made-for-TV series about Ramona Quimby. Did anyone else watch these? I believe it only ran for one season with ten episodes, but I got a lot of mileage out of those few episodes because I watched them so many times.

I couldn't help but think about that old TV series while we were reading Ramona Quimby, Age 8 because almost all of the episodes were based on chapters from this book. There was the egg-cracking fiasco where Ramona accidentally cracks a raw egg, instead of a hard-boiled one, onto her head, and then she overhears Mrs. Whaley say, "What a nuisance!" There's the weirdly textured meat at dinner, which turns out to be cow's tongue, and Ramona and Beezus complain about it so much that Mr. Quimby tells them they can make dinner the next night. There's the fruit fly larvae in the blue oatmeal (a classroom experiment) and the stomach flu that strikes in the middle of school and the "meow meow" book report. There's Yard Ape and Mr. Quimby drawing his foot and the nice older gentleman who pays for their dinner.

I was kind of glad my kids hadn't seen the TV series because it followed the book so closely that that's literally all I could think about while we were reading it and I think it's nice when they can go into a story without any preconceived ideas, but at the same time, it was kind of nostalgic for me.

One of the things that makes these books so continually fantastic is just watching the way Ramona grows up. With each book, she becomes a little wiser and more mature. She focuses on other people (and worries about her mom's job, her dad's school, the faulty car etc.) while also becoming more aware of what people think about her (does Mrs. Whaley think she's a nuisance? is the whole class going to make fun of her because she threw up?). But her growing up happens in the most believable way possible, and she is still very much the Ramona that we've always loved.

Soon after we finished this book, and not on purpose at all, we had hard boiled eggs one night when we had breakfast for dinner. I wasn't even thinking about Ramona, but my kids were. Crack! Crack! Crack! All of them smashed their eggs onto their foreheads. Clark, who hadn't listened to any of the story, had no idea what was going on, but that didn't stop him from joining in. Who can resist cracking an egg on your head?!

The Twits by Roald Dahl

 My mom and I have similar tastes on many different things, including books. However, those tastes do not cross at the point of Roald Dahl. She read James and the Giant Peach to my siblings and me when we were little, and that was enough for her. She finds him bizarre and strange and maybe even a little offensive. I find him bizarre and strange too but also incredibly funny, witty, and creative. And that makes all the difference. 

I couldn't help but think of my mom when we started in on the Twits because it basically takes everything she doesn't like about Roald Dahl and condenses it into one 76-page story.

First, you have Mr. and Mrs. Twit--the most despicable and disgusting couple you ever met, not to mention the rudest, too. They play nasty tricks on each other: spontaneous ones, like Mrs. Twit dropping her glass eye in Mr. Twit's coffee, and also carefully calculated ones, like Mr. Twit adding about an 1/8 of an inch to the bottom of Mrs. Twit's walking stick every night so that she'll slowly be convinced that she's shrinking. I'm pretty sure my mom would be horrified to read about such a mean, abusive couple, especially in a children's novel, but my kids and I laughed our way through it. They're just so ridiculous and the perfect villains because they literally have zero redeeming qualities.

But if the sheer nastiness of the Twits didn't turn her off, the next part most certainly would. Besides being awful to each other, Mr. and Mrs. Twit happen to have four monkeys they've been training for an upside down circus. It's a terrible life, as you might imagine, and eventually the monkeys decide they've had enough. They band together with the Roly-Poly Bird and the other birds who Mr. Twit likes to catch with his Hugtight sticky glue so he can eat them in stew. They pull off the most elaborate trick to date, one that puts Mr. and Mrs. Twit's own tricks to shame. (And, spoiler: it works.)

The thing about this trick is it's kind of out there--like, there's no way you would ever do such a thing, and even if you did, it would never work. And that's the other reason my mom wouldn't like this book. Even though the evil Twits get their just reward, it's all just a little too strange and morbid and unrealistic.

But that's exactly why I loved it. I mean, who can pull off something this bizarre and make it absolutely hilarious and entertaining at the same time? Only Roald Dahl.

Aaron read this book last year on his own and had been begging me to read it ever since. I'm so glad we did, but I'll be sure to tell my mom she can skip it.

Mathematicians Are People, Too by Luetta and Wilbert Reimer

Last summer we read the third volume in the Stories of the World series for one of our summer goals. We made a gigantic timeline out of the events we read about, and it ended up being one of the highlights of our summer, but it was also a pretty ambitious goal given its length and the amount of time we had. We really had to pace ourselves and keep on top of our reading to get through the whole thing in three months.

This year, I wanted to have another history-related goal, but I wasn't feeling quite up to tackling such a daunting book, so we went with Mathematicians Are People, Too instead. Comprised of fifteen chapters, each one focuses on the life of a different famous mathematician. Some of these I'd heard of, like Archimedes and Isaac Newton, but many were completely new, and I was always so intrigued by these unknown mathematicians who did so much to move the study of mathematics forward. In fact, some of them contributed so much that I kind of couldn't believe I didn't know about them (maybe if I'd been a math major, I would have).

One of these was Sophie Germain. As a woman mathematician in the early nineteenth century, she was up against almost insurmountable obstacles. No one thought a woman could, or should, be doing math. In fact, it was so impossible that she took on a pseudonym, Monsieur LeBlanc, so that she could correspond with other mathematicians without having to overcome the gender obstacle. She was a gifted mathematician and made great strides on the law of vibrating elastic surfaces. To their credit, two of the most famous mathematicians at the time, Joseph Lagrange and Carl Gauss (who also have their own chapters in this book) were quite accepting of Sophie when she turned out to be a woman and collaborated with her on many things.

Other stories were incredibly exciting . . . and tragic. One mathematician, Evariste Galois, died at the tender age of twenty because he was forced into a duel over a young woman he didn't even care about. He lost. In his short life, he not only made important strides in algebra, number theory, and group theory, but he was also a political activist and ended up in jail twice for being a little too outspoken. Can you imagine what he might have accomplished if he'd had the chance to live an average-length life?

I liked the length of the chapters (i.e., not too long) and that they were filled with both memorable stories and important information about each person's life. My one complaint is that sometimes the dialogue at the beginning of each chapter seemed a little contrived and inauthentic. If you can get past that, and I could, it's a book well worth sharing with your kids, and I'm glad that there's a second volume of stories. Maybe for next summer . . . 

Have you read any of these books with your kids? What's your opinion on the Ramona series and Roald Dahl's books? Please share in the comments!

Review x 2: Ramona and Her Mother and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Summer is here, which means I have more time to read to my kids! Both of these books were finished before school ended, but I thought I better combine them because we have a lot more now coming down the pike. 

Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary
I've noticed that when a read aloud has been rather slow and tedious, my kids and I tend to turn to something quick and fun and familiar afterwards. This happened most recently after we finished Rascal. Don't misunderstand, we liked that book a great deal but it wasn't a fast book for us, and I could tell that we needed a little pick-me-up to rekindle the reading bug. It should come as no surprise that the author we chose to remedy the problem was Beverly Cleary. She is our tried-and-true favorite, and Ramona was just the ticket.

Ramona is known for her seeming talent for finding mischief and getting into scrapes, but in this book, she thinks she is past all that. After all, she is seven years old and in the second grade. In fact, when she overhears someone compare Howie's annoying little sister, Willa Jean, to herself, she gets a little offended. Her pride takes another blow when someone else refers to Beezus as "her mother's girl."

But still, no matter how much she wishes it or tries to be more grown up, Ramona can't help getting into trouble. In this installment, she dumps a bottle of blueing all over herself and Howie, squeezes out an entire tube of toothpaste, and tries to run away. She is definitely more conscious of her actions (and more defiant about them when she knows it's something she shouldn't be doing), but she is still very much the same Ramona who, at four years old, ate a bite out of every apple in the basement.

The similarities between Willa Jean and Ramona throughout the book cannot be missed, and it is a brilliant tool for expanding Ramona's character. Through Willa Jean, we are able to look at Ramona from all angles: how other people see her and how Ramona sees herself, and we're also able to draw our own comparisons. Seeing Willa Jean in action reminds us of Ramona's escapades from years past. We also see how she's matured while at the same time staying very much one hundred percent Ramona.

One of my other favorite parts of the book is when Ramona's parents get into a really big fight one evening after a very long day. There were delays with picking up the car from the repair shop after work, and so everyone is tired and hungry when they get home. They expect dinner to be ready and waiting for them, but Ramona's mother had forgotten to plug in the Crock-Pot when they all left that morning. Their only other  option for dinner is pancakes (but they still plug in the Crock-Pot so that they can eat the stew the next night, and I was thoroughly grossed out about that), but Ramona's parents are sarcastic and rude and start throwing insults at each other (or actually, at Mr. Quimby's grandmother) until Mrs. Quimby grows so frustrated, she swats Mr. Quimby with the pancake turner and stalks out of the room.

There are many books with parental fights in them, but most of the time, there is some deep, underlying cause. I love this one because it shows what a good, old-fashioned quarrel looks like. Sometimes people just get tired and hungry and cranky and ornery. But the next day, after a good night's rest, the issues magically dissolve because they weren't really issues in the first place. Mike and I have similar quarrels (almost always the result of not enough sleep or not enough food), and I loved that my kids got to see this quarrel played out in a very similar way to their own parents. (But, in my defense, I've never smacked Mike with a pancake turner. :-))

This book just had all the heart and humor and authenticity I've come to expect from Ramona. You can tell we haven't been ripping through this series, and it's because I never want it to end. I always want there to be a new Ramona book to fall back on when we need something light but substantial. I guess eventually, we'll just have to start rereading. That will be fun, too.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis
After the boys and I finished Ramona and Her Mother, we decided to move onto another partially finished series and read the next installment in The Chronicles of Narnia. I never read this book as a kid, but it's now the third time I've read it as an adult, and that kind of surprises me since I don't reread a lot of books, and I wouldn't list this as one of my favorite books of all time or even one of my favorites in the series. Still, it's the type of book that holds up to a reread very well.

Lucy and Edmund Pevensie have been sent to spend the summer with their Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta and insufferable cousin Eustace (who, at least in the beginning, all bear a rather unflattering resemblance to Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley). When they are alone, they relive their Narnian adventures, and there's one picture in a tucked away bedroom that especially reminds them of Narnia because it looks like a Narnian ship floating on the sea. One day, as they're looking at it, Eustace comes along and starts taunting them. But that quickly ends when the ship in the picture literally starts moving and the waves start splashing and then they're actually in the picture and being pulled up out of the water into the ship.

The ship, as it turns out, is indeed a Narnian ship, and who should be on board but Prince Caspian himself. They are searching for the seven lords who left when Caspian's uncle, Miraz, was in control of Narnia. Lucy and Edmund are thrilled to be a part of the adventures, and Eustace eventually comes around too.

When I read this book for the first time, my favorite scene was definitely the one where Aslan helps Eustace shed his skin after he becomes a dragon. The symbolism made such a profound impact on me. This time, it was my kids who loved that scene (which I totally called before we read the book), but I found myself touched by other parts of the story far more.

One of those instances happens towards the end of the book when they get to, what they later call, Ramandu's country. They find a table spread with a bounteous feast and three of the lords sitting at the end of it, deep in an enchanted sleep. A girl comes out to greet them and tells them about what happened to those three lords and also the history of the table. At the end of her narrative, Edmund says, "I'm sure I don't mean to be rude. But we have had a lot of queer adventures on this voyage of ours and things aren't always what they seem. When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what might happen with a witch, too. How are we to know you're a friend?" The girl responds, "You can't know. You can only believe . . . or not." That really resonated with me (and actually brought me quite close to tears) because I feel like that's where I am with my faith right now: I can only believe or not. And I choose to believe.

And finally, I really loved the part where they are getting close to the end of the world, and the sun is getting bigger and brighter every day, but somehow, as it increases in intensity, something changes within each of them, and they are able to bear it. It reminded me of a scripture: "The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth." I just love the way the image of light is portrayed so strongly in this book as they get nearer and nearer Aslan's country because I truly believe the kingdom of God is more glorious and beautiful and light than we can dare to comprehend or endure at this time. Of this increasing brightness of the sun, Edmund said, "Though lots of things happened on that trip which sound more exciting, that moment was really the most exciting." And I think that's the way it will be as we near the end of the world as well. It will be thrilling. (And, in stark contrast to that, Max and Aaron both agreed that the earlier adventure on the Dark Island was one of the scariest moments they've ever read, and neither of them expected to be so terrified by it.)

Those are the things that stuck out to me this time, but I know that if, or I should probably say when, I read this book again, there will be other things that make an impression. It's just that kind of book.

What books have you been reading to your kids lately?

Review x 2: Henry and the Clubhouse and Ramona and Her Father

The summer wouldn't have been complete if we hadn't had any Henry Huggins or Ramona Quimby in it. So we read one of each.

Henry and the Clubhouse by Beverly Cleary
My dad used to keep a box of scrap lumber in the garage, and I can still remember the day that my brothers and I came up with the great idea to build a playhouse. We scavenged for wood pieces and started haphazardly nailing them together while talking out our plans: it would have windows! and a door! a real wood floor! a second story even! Who needs plans when you have a perfect vision of it in your mind's eye? I think our enthusiasm petered out by the end of the afternoon. It soon became apparent that not only did we not have enough wood but our skills were extremely limited. We abandoned the project in favor of a game of Monopoly.

Luckily, Henry's stamina and resourcefulness and ability far exceeded my own. After Henry inherits a bathtub crate from Mr. Grumbie, he decides to build a clubhouse. He hits the jackpot when Mr. Bingham decides to tear down his garage. He tells Henry he can have whatever he wants, including the windows. Henry recruits Murph and Robert to help. Murph draws up the plans, and before long, their clubhouse begins to take shape.

But Henry has more to think about than just his clubhouse. With his newly acquired paper route, he has a lot of responsibility. He doesn't want to disappoint his dad, and he knows he has a lot to prove to Mr. Capper since he's the youngest paper boy in the neighborhood. But it's hard. Part of the job description of a paper boy is to sell new subscriptions to the paper. Henry has the perfect opportunity when someone new moves onto his route, but it takes him several tries before he's successful.

Meanwhile, he's dealing with a completely different challenge in the form of five-year-old Ramona. She's quite taken with his clubhouse, but he and Murph and Robert have definitively decided that all girls (regardless of age or friend status) will be strictly excluded from entering. Of course, Ramona has plans of her own and ends up saving the day (but not until after she locks him inside his own clubhouse . . . ).

It's kind of funny, but I think my kids actually like Ramona's stories better in the Henry books than in her own books. It's partly because she's a little bit younger in them, but I think it's also because in her own books, her problems are a little too much her own. You know what she's thinking and how she's feeling, and her emotions get all tied up in everything.

In the Henry books, it's all from Henry's perspective, and Ramona is usually (at least part of) his problem. She's irrational and stubborn, and watching Henry deal with the pesky little neighbor girl is quite entertaining. (But for all his irritation, Henry almost always chooses the higher road when it comes right down to it, and that's one of the things I hope my boys take away from these books--Ramona might be shadowing him all around the neighborhood, and it might be driving him crazy, but the night that she's cold and exhausted, he's going to pause what he's doing and help her get home--what a kid.)

Once again, I was so impressed with the set up and execution of this book. When we were in the middle of it, it felt like just an ordinary story with very little going on, but in the final chapter (and this seems to be very typical of Beverly Cleary), little details suddenly had a big impact on the outcome of the story. Things that you thought were just random and pointless came back into play, and it was pretty brilliant.

Ramona and Her Father by Beverly Cleary
We read these two books back to back, and Ramona takes a little leap in age and maturity between the two. The content moves in that direction as well.

At the beginning of the book, Ramona's father comes home from work, and almost immediately, Beezus and Ramona can tell that something is terribly wrong. Their mother breaks the news gently but bluntly: Mr. Quimby has lost his job.

In all of the books leading up to this one, you get the distinct impression that although the Quimby's have enough, they're always stretching just a little bit to make ends meet. So you can imagine the impact this news has on their financial situation.

But, it turns out, a lack of available funds is only one of the consequences that comes from a job loss. Another one, and, as it turns out, it's the one that Ramona feels even more acutely, is that Ramona's father's morale plummets. His sense of humor slowly fades and his irritability slowly increases, especially after Beezus and Ramona convince him to give up smoking (both to save money and also his health).

So this story definitely has a more serious undertone than the previous ones, but the truth is, Ramona is still just seven years old, and even though she's worried about her dad, she's more worried about not having the perfect sheep costume for the nativity play. I think many authors would have fallen into the trap of taking this serious subject too seriously, but not Beverly Cleary. A seven-year-old is almost always going to be more interested in her own needs than those of her family. It sounds selfish, but it's actually pretty realistic.

And that's not to say that Ramona never worries about her father. She does, and at one point, after their cat knocks their jack-o-lantern off the table and ruins it, she even thinks, "Didn't grown-ups think that children worried about anything but jack-o-lanterns? Didn't they know that children worried about grown-ups?" So it's always present but just not always her first and foremost concern.

However, the reader gets a better glimpse of how tense the situation is based on how Beezus is reacting to it: she is sassy and rude and defiant, and that's also realistic. It's natural that a thirteen-year-old is going to have a better grasp of what's going on than a seven-year-old.

I think it was good for my boys to hear because up to this point in their young lives, I don't think they've ever really considered the ramifications of what would happen if their own dad lost his job. I don't want it to be something that they fret over, but I think it made them appreciate what they have just a little more.

And lest you think, this book is all seriousness with none of Ramona's usual mishaps, think again. The disaster with the crown of burrs is enough to assure anyone that she is still, always and forever, the same Ramona. 

Henry and the Paper Route by Beverly Cleary

Before I write about this book, can I just go on a little rant?

A couple of weeks before Christmas, I was at Costco and found a collection of fifteen Beverly Cleary books for under $30. I looked it over and noticed two of the Henry books (Henry and the Paper Route and Henry and the Clubhouse) and one of the Ramona books (Ramona Forever) were not included, but at less than $2 per book, I couldn't pass it up. I just thought I would add in the missing books later. No big deal. I might have to pay $7 or $8 for each one, but when I was saving so much on the others, it really didn't matter.

I gave the set to Aaron for Christmas. He loved it. Still loves it. I was congratulating myself on a brilliant purchase.

Then,  a couple of weeks ago, as I was deciding which books to get the boys for Valentine's Day, I decided to fill in a couple of those missing books. I checked on Amazon, but couldn't find the 2007 edition. (<----- The one pictured over there.) No problem. I went to Barnes and Noble. Couldn't find it. I tried The King's English. They didn't have any of them. Finally, I went to Frost's, a local new and used bookstore. They had several Beverly Cleary books in that edition but not the ones I was looking for. So I asked one of the salespeople, and she dropped this bomb:

"That edition is no longer in print."

I felt a little foolish because that's something I should have been able to figure out pretty quickly on my own without running around to three different stores, but I guess I just never expected something that was being sold at Costco two months before to be out of print.

It's not that big of a deal really. I'm sure I can track down those books on ebay or at Saver's (I already found and purchased Ramona Forever), but the main reason I'm irritated is because I don't even like that edition! The updated illustrations clash with the 1950's text. I only went with it because it was convenient and I thought it would be easy to get a matching set. But now I'm going to have the hassle of piecing it together anyway (and I will piece it together because I do want them all to match).

Anyway, on to Henry and the Paper Route. (Since it's one of the ones I'm still searching for, we just checked it out from the library.)

If you've read the other Henry books, you'll already know that Henry is very envious of Scooter's paper route. In fact, in Henry and Beezus, Henry has a chance to fill in for Scooter, and it almost turns disastrous when Ribsy won't leave the newspapers where they've been tossed. Scooter can be insufferably cocky at times, and he's no different in this book, but one day, as he pedals by delivering the papers, he asks Henry if he knows anyone who wants their own paper route. Yes, Henry knows someone. Himself! But Scooter says there's no way that's going to happen since Henry isn't eleven yet.

So Henry sets out to prove that he is a responsible almost-eleven-year-old. In the meantime, he acquires four kittens (one of which he gets to keep), collects the most paper for the school paper drive, folds Scooter's papers for him, and meets the new boy down the street. Oh, and enough time goes by that he actually turns eleven, too. Just when he thinks things he'll finally get the job of his dreams, it slips out of his grasp. And if not for a certain annoying four-year-old (i.e., Ramona Quimby) it would have stayed far out of reach.

Every time I read one of the Henry books, I get a little inkling of how much the world has changed in the nearly 60 years since they were originally published. For example, do you regularly see 11-, 12-, and 13-year-old kids delivering newspapers on weekday afternoons? Because I don't. And I never have in any of the places I've lived. All of the "paper boys" I know are actually adults who nearly run me over when I'm out running early in the morning as they toss the papers from their cars.

And then there's the paper drive held by Henry's school as a way to raise money for a new curtain in the auditorium. Henry diligently sets about collecting all the unwanted paper around the neighborhood (if he accumulates a stack of papers that measures 30 inches high, he gets a prize). What a difference from the fundraiser Aaron brought home earlier this week! (What unwanted, unnecessary item would you like to buy from this catalog? We settled on the chocolate-covered caramels and sent the form back with him the next day without ever asking any family, friends, or neighbors.) Can you even recycle paper for money these days? I have no idea.

But some things remain the same whether you were born in 1958 or 2008. At Henry's birthday party, "the boys entertained themselves by practicing artificial respiration on one another." I just had to laugh when I read that because it was so random, and yet, I happen to know a bunch of adolescent boys who would be quite amused by that (and likewise, I know very few (if any) girls who would come up with that as a fun activity). Once again, Beverly Cleary hit the interests, humor, and frustrations of boys spot on. She's pretty amazing.

Even though this was not my favorite Henry book, we still enjoyed it immensely. Like Ramona, we can always count on him for a story worth reading.