And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

I read Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express more than ten years ago when I was still in high school. It was the first murder mystery I had read, and it was a completely new reading experience for me. Even though it was fiction, I had to stay alert to every detail the entire time in order to piece together the evidence and solve the mystery before Hercule Poirot did (an impossible feat, I soon realized).

And Then There Were None was no less gripping but definitely more terrifying. There's something about beginning a novel with ten characters and knowing that by the end, all ten of them will be dead that just fills you with an intense feeling of dread. (And lest you think, like Mike did, that I'm spoiling the ending by mentioning the fate of the characters, I'll just refer you back to the title: And Then There Were None. Pretty obvious from the get go.)

The story begins by introducing the cast of characters: Mr. Justice Wargrave, Vera Claythorne, Philip Lombard, Miss Emily Brent, General Macarthur, Dr. Armstrong, Tony Marston, Mr. Blore, and Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. They are all on their way to Soldier Island, a modern estate wrapped in mystery.

(I almost listened to this book, and in the end, I'm so, so glad I didn't. It took me awhile to become firmly acquainted with everyone, and I spent the first thirty pages or so flipping frequently back to the beginning to remind myself of one thing or another.)

Their host (a Mr. U.N. Owen) is strangely absent at their arrival. Soon after dinner on their first night, a detached voice comes blaring into the drawing room. It accuses each of them of murder. By the end of the night, one of them is dead. Suspicion and fear quickly mount as they realize they are trapped on the island, and it appears that someone (maybe one of their own?) is determined not to let them leave it alive.

This was the kind of book where, when I was in the middle of it, I couldn't put it down because I was so desperate to find out who did it and why. But then, after I finished it, I looked back at the scope of the story and thought, Wow. If that had been a news story, I would be officially freaked out right now. When you look at the bare bones of the story, it is horrifying, to be sure. That it's fiction certainly makes it a little less horrific, but still, it isn't the kind of story I could read a lot of without needing a break.

That said, even though it deals with the murder of ten individuals, it is still rather mild: most of the killing happens off stage, and none of it is described in any detail whatsoever. It is a novel that is more suspenseful than gruesome. That's why I said that in retrospect, it's horrible, but in the moment, it was absolutely gripping.

Agatha Christie is frequently referred to as The Queen of Mystery. Some might think this has to do with the sheer volume of mystery novels she wrote during her lifetime (and I'm sure, to some extent, it does). But I also believe she earned that title because she knew how to craft a truly excellent mystery.

About this particular novel she said, "I wrote the book after a tremendous amount of planning." This is obvious from the beginning. The story is layered with intent and guilt and motive. There is not a single detail mentioned that is not important. Although there are a few perspectives she surreptitiously leaves out and perhaps a few misleading comments, the evidence is there. And that is why I loved it so much: it was a mystery that I should have been able to figure out. And yet, for the life of me, I couldn't. My thoughts ran wild: I suspected everyone and no one. I thought about it when I wasn't reading, but puzzling it out never resulted in any conclusions, which made me desperate to get back to it so more of the story could unfold.

At the end, the two inspectors are discussing the case, and in looking over the evidence, they are just as baffled as I felt. The final sentence from them is, "But in that case, who killed them?" For a moment, I thought that was the end of the book. I could see there were more pages, but I honestly thought they were just an author bio or some essay. I actually shut the book, so disgusted and disappointed. C'mon, Agatha! You mean you didn't know who did it either? What a cop out. 

But then I decided just to make sure. I opened the book back up, and much to my relief, it was the rest of the story, with all of the answers neatly laid out. I only feel the need to discuss an ending in detail when I am frustrated or angry about it. In this case, I am happy to keep my lips sealed because the ending was just right. (I thought of using the words "satisfying" or "perfect," but somehow those just seemed wrong in connection with murder.) Everything made sense to me; there were no surprises that weren't accounted for (which drives me absolutely batty with some mysteries). And really, once I knew everything, I was convinced it would have been impossible to imagine and construct and write such a story without an insane amount of planning.

Besides trying to figure out who the murderer was, it was also engrossing to determine who might be the next character to meet his (or her) tragic end. This was an element that is not a part of most murder mysteries, and it was just one more way the story kept up its captivating pace.

The mystery also had a creative framework, which I really liked. The entire plot is based on the nursery rhyme "Ten Little Soldiers," where one by one, the little soldier boys are eliminated. Personally, I think it's pretty gruesome for a nursery rhyme, but judging from Grimm's fairy tales, things have not always been so carefully packaged for children as they are now. Even though I don't approve of it as a nursery rhyme, I thought it provided an intriguing structure for the story.

If the ending hadn't wrapped things up so well, I know I wouldn't be praising this book nearly so much. But because she delivered the whole package, I have no reservations saying this is one of the best mysteries I've ever read. It was one I not only loved while I was reading it, but now, after the fact, I just keep thinking, That was incredible.

It was a perfect Halloween read. Even though the holiday is almost over and you're all probably in candy-induced comas by now, you might want to put it on your list for next year. Hope you all had a great Halloween!

Old Black Witch's Blueberry Pancakes

Last night we decided to have pancakes for dinner. We rarely, almost never, have pancakes for breakfast. But pancakes for dinner? About once a month. It is one of the few meals we eat that I don't have to hear any complaints about. Perhaps it has something to do with it being laden with sugar . . .

Since recently reading (and loving) Old Black Witch, we decided to make her famous blueberry pancakes.

In reality, these pancakes are pretty much just your average flour, baking powder and eggs except for the magical chant you repeat three times while stirring in the blueberries:

Gobble dee gook

With a wooden spoon, 

The laugh of a toad

At the height of the moon!

We practiced several times so we could say it without stumbling. And then, while Maxwell stirred, all five of us (yes, even Mike, who was home by then) chanted the magic words. It was quite thrilling. I was reminded that in order to make something special, you don't have to do anything grand or expensive. You just have to act like it's special, and then, magically, it is.

Old Black Witch's Blueberry Pancakes

1 1/4 cups flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 egg, beaten
3/4 cup milk
3 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup blueberries (thawed or fresh)

Mix ingredients together, and then pour in 1/4 cup amounts on hot griddle. Flip when all the bubbles have popped.

We doubled the recipe, and as we heartily consumed almost all of them, we had to agree they were some of the best pancakes we'd ever eaten.

We're sure it's because of those magical words.

LibraryPages: Borrow, But Don't Read

Note: the following is not meant to be unduly critical of the library. I love the library! I just want to express my feelings and then hear your wise and unbiased opinions.

Yesterday, Aaron and I went to the library. When I tried to use the self check-out, a little message popped up and said there was a problem with my card. This was not surprising since our library recently revamped their computer system and changed their check-out/check-in systems, and in the last two months, I always seem to encounter some kind of problem.

So I made my way over to one of the real, live librarians and told her I couldn't check out. She scanned my card and said it was because there was a $29.00 fine on it and they only allow fines to go up to $25.00. My mouth gaped open in astonishment, and I spluttered, "That cannot possibly be true." I said that in good faith since I had checked my account just that morning and seen with my own two eyes that my fines amounted to a measly 80 cents.

"It's for a damaged item," she said. "A Mind at a Time."

I had just returned that book a few minutes before, and I feverishly racked my brain for what kind of damage I had done to it. Thrown it into the fire? No. Stomped on it in a wild dance? Not this time. Ripped it up in a fit of rage? It wasn't that kind of book.

The librarian could see I was getting flustered, so she beckoned to another librarian, who came over holding A Mind at a Time. I refrained from snatching it out of her hands.

"How is it damaged?" I asked. As she opened up the front cover, I remembered.

When I checked out the book, the first grouping of 20 pages was beginning to pull away from the binding. During the few weeks of opening, closing, holding, and reading it, the pages had come all the way out--but were still glued together in their own little group.

So there it was. My abuse was not in burning or stomping or ripping, but in reading.

I rushed to defend myself: "I didn't do that! The pages were already coming out when I got the book."

Apparently, the librarian holding the book had been in the process of writing me an email. I almost wish it had been sent before we got things resolved. I would have loved to know what she was saying. Instead, she said, "Oh, that's fine. Next time, just make sure you tell us about the problem when you return the book."

So the fine is gone. And I should be happy. But I'm still a bit rankled for three reasons:

1. I check out well-used items from the library all the time: board books with flaps missing, paperbacks that are bent and scuffed, DVDs that are so scratched they skip more than they play. Am I really going to have to start reporting how all these items are damaged when I return them just so that I don't accrue unwarranted fines?
2. As items get read and used, it should be expected that a certain amount of wear and tear will occur. Even under the best handling, an item can only be passed between so many hands before it starts to show its age. How do you decide who is responsible for the damage when it was the work of several different people reading the book?
3. The book was still very readable (so readable I forgot to even mention the damage when I turned the book in--and, rather ironically, I did mention some problems with a picture book I was checking in at the same time). Even if the damage had been completely the result of my negligence and my mistreatment, I still don't think I should have had to pay the full cost to replace the book. If the book was so damaged it had to be retired, then yes, of course. But if it was merely going to be repaired and placed back on the shelf? Then charge a fine for damage but not an entire replacement fee.

Mike and I were talking about the whole situation, and we both half-seriously agreed that I maybe should have paid the $29.00 just as a way of saying thank-you for the thousands of dollars worth of books we've checked out over the years. Or because our own little bits of damage (a DVD scratch here or a crease or small tear there) have probably added up to $29.00. I certainly do not want to be stingy in regards to the library because I love that system so much, and my life would be completely different without it.

However, I also want to be fair.

And in all fairness, there have been many times when I've mentioned damage that we've done to books. I'm definitely not trying to get away with abuse. The funny thing is, because the damage was small, they've always just smiled and said something like, "Oh don't worry about it. That book has been around forever. That's what happens when you read a book."

This time was just so surprising and unexpected. I don't know if they're trying to crack down a little and make patrons more responsible or if this particular librarian was just a little over-zealous.

I would welcome any feedback, particularly from current- or former-librarians. Is it too optimistic to hope I have a silent reader or two who works in one of the Salt Lake City libraries? How about other moms who have had to deal with the dilemma of reporting damage? Do other libraries charge a damage fee, or is it all or nothing? Please share your opinions (but of course, do so kindly!).

KidPages: Three Books for Halloween

Every October we check out a lot of Halloween-themed picture books from the library. I'm sure your house is filled with them too. My children prefer scary (of course, they don't know what real scary is), and I prefer cute. This little list is a mix of both (but all of them end with cute).

1. Old Black Witch!, Wende and Harry Devlin
We read this book for the first time yesterday. Yes, yesterday. At the time, I already had the beginnings of this post in my head. For the sake of keeping the post a decent length, I planned on limiting myself to three books (which, you can see, I stuck to). Originally, one of the three books was going to be Cranberry Halloween, which we read earlier in the month and really liked. But then we read this one, and we liked it even more. Since they are both written by Wende and Harry Devlin and definitely have a similar feel, Cranberry Halloween got cut (but you should still go check it out!).

Old Black Witch is living in an old, abandoned house when Nicky and his mother purchase it and begin the process of fixing it up and turning it into an adorable little teahouse. Old Black Witch is outraged: "There aren't many old, broken-down houses left, you know." Nicky's mom kindly offers the attic room to Old Black Witch, which suits her fine since it is the only part of the house still occupied by cobwebs and bats and layers of dust. When the teahouse opens, Old Black Witch makes occasional appearances, and all of the customers find her quite charming--even though she is just as ornery as ever. However, her orneriness proves to be a valuable asset when two thieves decide to break in and steal from Nicky and his mom. The Old Black Witch will have none of that!

If you've never read anything by Wende and Harry Devlin, then you're missing out on a rare treat. Theirs is a unique brand of storytelling: at times simplistic and at other times detailed with the unmistakable charm of the 1960's upon it. It's on the wordy side of picture books for sure, but even two-year-old Bradley had no trouble sitting through it.

The witch is depicted as short and stout with a red face and a big nose. There is a certain quirky cuteness about her that is only intensified by her prickly personality. She's like the typical old lady who lives across the street: she hates children (and people in general), but she's as loyal as they come.

  

2. The Costume Copycat, Maryann Macdonald, illus. Anne Wilsdorf

I've read enough mediocre Halloween books to be able to spot one a mile off. 

Or so I thought.

But The Costume Copycat did not turn out to be even half as mediocre as I was expecting. No cut-and-paste dialogue. No Halloween classroom parties. No redundant rhymes.

Instead, what I found was a sweet story about two sisters: Angela (the younger one) and Bernadette (the older one). Every year, Bernadette picks just the right costume to be a smashing success in the neighborhood. And every year, Angela picks up Bernadette's costume from last year (in the hopes of enjoying some of the same popularity as Bernadette the year before) but finds that for some reason she just doesn't seem to have the same effect on people. But then one year, Bernadette's hand-me-down costume (a gypsy) won't fit Angela, and so she has to come up with her own. She discovers (as I'm sure you can guess) that her own ideas can be pretty amazing, too.

The thing that makes this story so delightful is the stark (and very amusing) contrast between Bernadette's and Angela's years with the same costume. The year that Bernadette is a white rabbit, their neighbor, Mrs. Walker, exclaims, "Oh, look at the cute little bunny!" and insists on taking two pictures of Bernadette. The next year, it rains all evening, leaving Angela a wet and muddy and bedraggled rabbit. Mrs. Walker, not unkindly, tells her, "You're a wonderful rat."

For almost the entire story, Angela is consumed with jealousy while trying desperately to have her moment in the sun. At the end, when she finally feels noticed and appreciated, it is amazing how she instantly stops being so selfish and begins using polite words and shows love for Bernadette. Just a little self-confidence goes a long way. It definitely makes me want to look out for those kids (perhaps living within the walls of my own home?) who are feeling overshadowed by an older sibling; I want to recognize their strengths and let them shine in their own way.

3. What was I Scared of?, Dr. Seuss

If you had asked me ten years ago what I thought of Dr. Seuss, I probably would have said something about fond memories in regards to green eggs and ham, but other than that, not a lot of affection or admiration. In fact, I really didn't think about him much at all.

I have since changed my tune.

 

While I don't think I'll ever love The Cat in the Hat, I now count some of his books among my most favorites (I think I could read The Grinch Who Stole Christmas a dozen times in December and not get sick of it). The more I read of Dr. Seuss, the more I love him.

We first read this book, hmmm, probably over a year ago. But I checked it out from the library again this month and was surprised by what a perfect Halloween story it is: a creepy pair of green pants with nobody inside them? pants that follow around an unsuspecting and innocent creature? pants that only come out at night? Definitely scary.

So scary, in fact, that my two-year-old was led to exclaim as we turned the page, "Oh no! Green pants!!!!!"

It ends up being that the green pants are just a little lonely and in need of a friend, which isn't so much scary as it is very weird. But you know what? It works.

The reason why I can't get enough of Dr. Seuss is because he is so fun to read aloud. Seriously. Try this stanza: "I ran and found a Brickel bush. / I hid myself away. / I got brickels in my britches / But I stayed there anyway." Brickels in my britches? Tell me that line alone doesn't just make you want to read the rest of the story. It's almost therapeutic for me to read his rhymes. Once I begin, the predictable, undulating meter pulls me in, and I am content to ride it out to the end.

You may have noticed from the cover that this is a "glow-in-the-dark encounter." Does anyone else think that a glow-in-the-dark book is like the dumbest idea ever? I mean, it's almost always closed up tight; the only time it sees the light of day is for the brief 30 seconds spent on its page; plus, who ever heard of reading a book in the dark? We have yet to look at this book in the dark because it would take so much time to get it ready. 

That's what we've been reading lately. Have you found any new favorites this month?

The Story of the Dragon and the Dinosaur - by Aaron

A few days ago, Aaron was reading Houndsley and Catina--a book about a dog and a cat who are best friends. Catina is a self-proclaimed author: "Every evening after dinner, she would make herself a cup of ginger tea and sit down to write another chapter in her book."

Her book contains seventy-four chapters.

Aaron read that sentence, and his mouth gaped open in amazement. Seventy-four chapters?!?! He had no idea a book was allowed to have so many chapters. Obviously, Catina must be quite the accomplished author to be able to write so many (ironically, she is not).

The next day, I found Aaron sitting at the table in the playroom. He had a large stack of blank paper on one side of him, and a pile of completed pages on the other.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Writing a chapter book."

By the looks of it, he had ambitions of surpassing Catina's mark of seventy-four.

I have to admit, I was intrigued. Ever since he started school, he has been much braver about spelling words on his own. But still, I had never seen him write so much in one sitting.

Each chapter consisted of a title and one sentence.

He petered out at chapter 10, and, like Catina, he had a rather difficult time keeping the plot going, but I love this first attempt at a novel.

For your reading pleasure, here are chapters 9 and 10 (with original spelling) of The Story of the Dragon and the Dinosaur:

Chapter 9

Verey Verey Verey Best Fres

then they became verey verey verey best fres.

Chapter 10

Verey Verey Verey Verey Best Frens

Then they wre verey verey verey verey best frens.

Since it seems there were only good things on the horizon for Dragon and Dinosaur's friendship (and a lot more "verys"), the story came to a happy and satisfying end.

Princess of the Silver Woods by Jessica Day George

In case you hadn't already guessed from my reviews of Princess of the Midnight Ball and Princess of Glass, this was the trilogy I decided to read for my "Begin and finish a series" goal. I was immensely proud of myself for reading all three books in two months.

But then . . .

. . . my mom and my two sisters saw what I was reading, and they all decided it looked like something they would enjoy, too. My sisters stole the books from me and read all three in a week's time. One week! They didn't even bat an eye about this. They acted like there was nothing unusual at all about reading an entire trilogy in one breath without reading something else in between.

Hmmm. It seems like maybe I'm the unusual one, and I should keep my pride about such ridiculous things to myself. (Even as it was, I read three books in between the second and third books. I couldn't help myself.)

Princess Petunia, the youngest of the twelve dancing princesses, is on her way to visit the Grand Duchess Volenskaya when her coach is attacked by the Wolves of the Westfalian Woods. Oliver, the head of the Wolves, has no intention of hurting anyone, but then, almost without realizing it, he ends up kidnapping Petunia. Even after he has delivered her safely to the Grand Duchess's estate, he finds that his life has become mixed up with hers, and he can't turn his back on her when he can tell that things are not as they seem and feels that something just isn't right.

This book was fun because it brought back most of the characters from the first book: all of the princesses, Galin and Heinrich, the Bishop, Walter Vogel, and even the old crone. And yes, the King and princes Under Stone as well.

This cast of characters gave the trilogy some symmetry and also a sense of finality. However, in retrospect, it made Princess of Glass seem a little out of place. It just didn't have a strong connection to the other two books. Now that I've read all three books, I think the middle book weakens the trilogy. I don't think it would if the third book weren't so strongly connected to the first book. But because there is that connection, the second books seems more like a detour than a part of the journey.

As long as I'm talking about the connection between the first and third books, I might as well mention the ending (you might want to skip this paragraph if you haven't read this book). I was very dissatisfied with the ending. It was much too similar to the ending of Princess of the Midnight Ball. In many ways, I felt like I was reading that book again (which, if I was following my usual habit of putting three years between books, probably wouldn't have been a problem, but spaced just a few weeks apart, this copying was really annoying). Honestly, as I was reading the scene with all the princesses exiting the ball in exactly the same manner as the first book, I kept thinking, The first time was unbelievable. But this? This is not only unbelievable but very uncreative.

And then (still talking about the ending to any readers who are skipping this part), the actual defeating of the King Under Stone was nothing special. It was all magic and spells and good vs. evil and blinding flashes of light, but in the end, it felt very much like Princess of Glass where all of a sudden everything was finished and good had triumphed, but I wasn't quite sure how we got there. Most disappointing to me was the anti-climatic moment with fire. Throughout the story, you get the sense that everyone in the Kingdom Under Stone is deathly afraid of fire. Petunia smuggled a book of matches in with her and tries several times to get something to burn. In the end, she sets the whole silver woods on fire, but it felt more like an afterthought from the author, like Oh yeah, I have to work in fire somehow, than an actual necessity of the climax. I just felt like there was a lot of potential there to make the ending more original and creative, but in the end, the new little bits and pieces were shoved in under the pretense of creativity.

Sorry, I know that all sounded a bit harsh, but poor endings rile me up, especially when the rest of the book is so good.

And it was good.

I loved Petunia and Oliver. Where I loved Galen but couldn't stand Rose in Princess of the Midnight Ball and loved Poppy but couldn't stand Christian in Princess of Glass, it was so refreshing to have this dynamic couple. They were both brave, self-sacrificing, and smart. My only wish is that there would have been a little more interaction between them and maybe a little more romance at the end.

I also loved the way the tale of Little Red Riding Hood was used throughout: everything from Petunia's gorgeous red cape (seriously, I want one) to the little cottage in the woods to Oliver being a Wolf. The ending might have lacked some creativity, but the retelling of this fairy tale did not.

One of the details I really liked was finding out more about the princes Under Stone. In the first book, we know that they were born to mortal women and then taken down to the Kingdom Under Stone. It was so intriguing to have the Grand Duchess and her grandson Grigori take such an interest in Under Stone and make the threat of connecting the two worlds all that more tangible and real.

While on the topic of the princes, I just have to mention one paragraph that seemed so out of place: "...to Petunia familiarity had bred a strange sort of comfort. The clothes were slick and strange, the food tasted like it had been sprinkled with ashes, but she had known Kestilan far longer than she'd known Oliver. Longer than she'd known Galen, even, and he was as dear to her as if he had been born her brother." As dear to her?! Where did this even come from? How do you use the word dear in reference to Kestilan?!  There was absolutely no foundation for such a statement, and I found it not only extremely unfounded but also intensely repulsive.

With a mixed review like this one, it's probably a little bit difficult for you to tell if I would recommend this series or not, so I'll make it easy for you: I would definitely recommend it. No question. Yes, the endings left something to be desired, but the reading experience itself was very enjoyable.

Now that I've read all three books, I can definitely see the value in reading the books in a series back to back (or almost back to back). I was able to make connections and remember details that I wouldn't have otherwise. However, at the same time, I think I might have enjoyed the trilogy a little bit more if my memory had lapsed a little bit between books. I'm glad that I forced myself to read in a new way, but I'm not sure I'm convinced that it's better than my old way. I think I'll just stick with reading whatever I feel like, and if that happens to be two similar books one right after the other, so be it. But if not, I refuse to feel guilty.

Helping Young Children Love Chapter Books - Guest Post

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know that one of my favorite children's lit blogs is What Do We Do All Day. Erica has a virtual treasure trove of book lists, not to mention game and snack and craft ideas. If my only source for new book ideas came from this blog alone, I would still be set for years!

A couple months ago, Erica asked me if I wanted to do a guest post on her blog. I can't even tell you how flattered I was! One of my very favorite bloggers wanted me to write something for her?! Of course I said yes.

So today I am over at What Do We Do All Day sharing some ideas for how to help young children enjoy chapter books. I hope you'll pop over there, read my post, and then explore some of Erica's great posts for yourself!

How to Help Young Children Love Chapter Books