A Notes from the Windowsill annotated bibliography by Wendy E. Betts. Copyright 2006, 2007, 2008
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Last Updated 06/21/08
The Adventures of a Nose by Viviane Schwarz. Illustrated by
Joel Stewart. Candlewick, 2002 (0-7636-1674-5) $14.99
When I first looked at The Adventures of a Nose, I was
irresistibly reminded of an article I once read about rejected picture
books which featured this unpublished gem of a beginning: "Fred was a
carrot. An unhappy carrot." But though I did find it hard to take
seriously this tale of an unhappy nose having trouble finding his
place in the world (could the fact that the nose bizarrely has legs
and feet be part of its problem?), I was captivated by the
illustrations. The mixed media pictures, whose soft textures and
sharply defined lines have a distinctly European flavor, show that
anywhere the nose goes, he fits in: whether he's under two
clouds in the sky or between two wheels of a train, the nose always
becomes part of a wonderful face. (4 & up)
Hi, Harry! by Martin Waddell. Illustrated by Barbara Firth.
Candlewick, 2003 (0-7636-1802-0) $14.99
A gentle, sweet story about a tortoise who finds that the world moves
too quickly for him, until he meets the perfect friend: Sam Snail.
Especially fun if you read Harry and Sam's dialogue veerrrry
slooooowly. (2-6)
Ten-year-old class-clown Regina Calhoun has never had a problem with self-esteem. After all, she reasons, "if you didn't think you could do something, who would?" She just knows that she'll win the school talent show: she's a Calhoun, and "Calhouns always ended up on top." But when she accidentally cuts off most of her hair, her best friend Margaret makes a new friend and the boy who has always liked her suddenly stops, Regina's supreme self-confidence begins to feel a little shaken. Then she discovers that her unemployed father has a new job--as a janitor. It seems more important than ever to prove herself by winning the talent show--but what if her big idea is a big flop?
In the tradition of Mary Calhoun's Honestly, Katie John and
Nancy
Robinson's Veronica the Show-Off, this is an appealing portrait
of a very individual girl, as she begins the sometimes uncomfortable
process of figuring out where she fits in the world. Although she's
brash, foolhardy and often obnoxious--and what's worse, completely
oblivious about it--Regina is so strongly herself, it's hard not to
like her; Cullen's does a nice job of subtly revealing Regina's
self-delusions without ever destroying our sympathies. The ending is
especially positive, as Regina realizes that even if she doesn't
always come out on top, some people will still like her just the way
she is: in spite of everything, "she was Regina--if not The Great, at
least a survivor." (8-12)
The Schernoff Discoveries by Gary Paulsen. Delacorte, 1997
(0-385-32194-5) $15.95; Dell Yearling, 1998 (0-440-41463-6) $4.50 pb
Harold Schernoff suffers from insatiable curiosity and a penchant for dressing like a thirty-year-old accountant. His best friend, the unnamed narrator of this story, is equally nerdy, with poor and alcoholic parents to boot. Naturally the two boys are the school untouchables, and so they join forces: "The fact that we were outcasts meant that we gravitated toward each other like two marbles rolling toward the center of a bowl." With his friend a reluctant partner to Harold's always nutty schemes, the two boys get themselves in and out of various silly, embarrassing and occasionally dangerous situations, like Harold's inspired plan to improve their social standing by teaching themselves to ski. And eventually the narrator begins to understand that their relationship isn't just a matter of two outcasts sticking together, but of two friends sharing a difficult but still exciting journey to adulthood.
Written in a laid-back, reminiscent tone that suggests autobiography
rather than fiction--an afterward pretty much confirms that the
narrator is, in fact, Paulsen himself--this is an easy to read,
likeable book, but sometimes lacks dramatic punch and promises more
than it delivers. Paulsen can have a wonderful way with a phrase
though, as when he comments on his changed relationship with the
school bully: "I'm not going to say we became friends. If I were to
meet Chimmer right now I'd just as soon park a car on him as
anything." (11 & up)
How Do You Spell Geek? by Julie Anne Peters. Little, Brown, 1996
(0-316-70266-8) $13.95; Avon, 1998 (0-380-73053-7) $3.99 pb
Eight-grader Ann already has a reputation as a nerd, so she isn't a
bit happy about being told to "sponsor" Lurlene, a new girl at school
who is far worse than a nerd: wearing pigtails, pink barrettes and
cowboy boots, she's obviously a total geek. But since they both have
recently divorced parents, Ann is pretty much ordered to show Lurlene
around. To her surprise, the two start to become friends, and when
Ann discovers Lurlene has a photographic memory, she encourages her to
sign up for the state spelling bee competition; Ann and her best
friend Kimberly have been working for years to make it to the National
Spelling Bee in Washington D.C. But Ann doesn't realize how much her
new friendship threatens Kimberly, who is under a great deal of
pressure from her parents--"the Little Hitlers"--to be the best.
Sponsoring Lurlene may mean losing the Spelling Bee--and her best
friend.
Taking a fairly lighthearted look at the issues of ambition and
conformity versus individuality, this is a likeable story that doesn't
push its messages too hard. It even manages to make Ann's goal of
being a champion speller seem interesting; I enjoyed the positive
portrayal of her ambition, which shows that a drive to succeed isn't a
bad thing, if you are able to keep a sense of perspective--and a sense
of humor. (8-12)
Regular Guy by Sarah Weeks. HarperCollins, 1999
(0-06-028367-X) $14.95; HarperTrophy, 2000 (0-06-440782-9) $4.95 pb
Twelve-year-old Guy is sure there's something fishy about his family. His mom tie-dyes all their underwear; his dad sucks oysters up his noise in public... there's no way these weird people could have produced a normal, regular kid like him. When he finds out that the weirdest kid in his class, Bob-o, has the same birthday as him, and was born in the same hospital, Guy is sure he's found the answer--especially since Bob-o's parents seem as normal as can be. But when he convinces their parents to let them switch lives, for a "homework assignment," he discovers that matching families up isn't that simple.
Regular Guy gets off to a shaky start, trying hard to sound
cool and topical with dubious results. (Do kids really still say
"Gross me out the door?" I can date that back to 1983.) But as the
story progresses, Guy's voice becomes increasingly authentic and
appealing, especially when he discovers that weird, yucky,
nose-picking Bob-o has some pretty good qualities. The ending even
manages to deliver a few surprises, as Guy begins to understand why
Bob-o is the way he is, as well as developing the expected
appreciation for his weird parents. A likeable and entertaining
story. (8-12)
Jason and the Losers by Gina Willner-Pardo. Clarion, 1995
(0-395-70160-0) $14.95; Avon, 1997 (0-380-72809-5) $3.99 pb
Jason may have to stay with his aunt and uncle and nerdy cousin
Everett while his parents get divorced, but that doesn't mean he has
to like it. Especially when it turns out that Everett is only into
things like stamp collecting and is terrible at sports--just the kind
of kid they always call a loser at Jason's "real school." It's a
relief to meet Matt Morrison, who likes kickball and basketball too.
But Matt is also a bully, and when he tells Jason to prove he's not a
loser by being mean to his cousin, Jason must decide how much he's
willing to give up to have a friend.
Written in a low-key, almost sad tone that conveys Jason's constant
underlying feeling of abandonment, Jason and the Losers is an
insightful look at the age-old tension between athletic and
non-athletic kids. Jason's perspective is rather an unusual one to
take in a book--after all, readers are more likely to sympathize with
the other side--but the nonjudgmental style of the writing makes his
character very understandable, even when it's not inherently
sympathetic. Consequently, Jason's shifting loyalties and eventual
befriending of Everett seem to truly spring from his own feelings, and
the ending--as happy a one as is likely for a child still separated
from his parents--has the ring of truth. (8-12)
Bad Girls by Jacqueline Wilson. Illustrated by Nick Sharratt.
Delacorte, 2001 (0-385-72916-2) $15.96; Dell Yearling, 2004
(0-440-41806-2) $4.99 pb
Ten-year-old Mandy White is a "miracle baby," the child of an older couple who thought they'd never have children. The other kids in her school don't find her so miraculous though, and Mandy is constantly teased for having grey-haired parents who baby her. Then she meets Tanya, a fourteen-year-old foster kid who gets to be as grown-up as she--and Mandy--wants to be. Tanya wears "great clacky high heels" and lots of make-up, but she also has a nurturing and lonely side, and both she and Mandy find something they need in each other. There's only one problem: Tanya likes to shoplift, and her idea of fun could destroy their friendship.
I've never really gotten into Jaqueline Wilson's books; their
first-person narratives always seem to be trying too hard. But from
the opening of this story, a harshly believable scene of the kind of
schoolyard torment "nice girls" specialize in, Mandy's situation
grabbed me. The complex portrait of Tanya, a smart, creative and
caring girl who has been badly shortchanged by life, is even more
compelling. Although I found the ending disappointingly pat on one
hand and painfully unresolved on the other, I appreciated the overall
subtlety of the narrative, which introduces several intricate themes
without ever betraying Mandy's point of view.
Some of the Kinder Planets by Tim Wynne-Jones. Orchard, 1995;
Puffin, 1996 (0-14-038069-8) $3.99 pb
In nine comfortably offbeat stories, Wynne-Jones explores the themes
of remaining true to oneself while connecting with the outside world.
The boys and girls of these stories sometimes have trouble meeting
standard expectations, yet happily, manage to discover people who
welcome them for who they are: in the hilariously titled "Tweedledum
and Tweedledead," a boy finds an imaginative way of dealing with his
teacher's insistence on conformity; in the title story, a young
actress has trouble portraying a feeling of wonder on stage, until she
finds an image that really feels wonderful to her. The voices of the
stories are open and friendly, gently inviting readers to enter their
world and make themselves at home.
Sixteen-year-old Johnny is in rehab when he first hears Debbie Harry sing and feels an instant affinity. Listening to Blondie becomes a way to soothe himself without booze--an outlet he especially needs when his mother decides rehab wasn't enough, and send him to live with his uncle in South Carolina. In his new school, kids are divided into two types: "the classic prep-school kids from old-money Southern families" and "the fuck-ups, kids like me... taken in by Langley Prep and subsequently whipped into shape. It didn't take a week to tell that the latter half were total shit in the eyes of the former."
Then he meets and falls for Maria, a very attractive member of the fuck-ups. Maria laughs at Blondie at first--"Disco Cheesecake!"--but quickly becomes sympathetic to Johnny's passion for Harry's combination of toughness and beauty. As they grow closer, in a plot twist straight out of fetish fantasy, Maria not only buys a Debbie Harry-style dress for Johnny, but encourages him to enter a drag contest. He does, and discovers it feels wonderful, "to get up there and be fabulous for a few minutes."
Probably the biggest plus of this story is its accessibility. It's fast-paced and easy to read, and Johnny starts out with so many familiar young adult problems that almost any teen could find something in him to relate to. That may help the book find more readers than just those attracted by a gender-bending theme. But that strength could also be considered a weakness. Too much of the story felt rushed and obvious, a bit afterschool-specialish, especially at in the beginning chapters when so many "issues" develop in a very short space of narrative time. My interest picked up considerably when Johnny moved and met Maria: their relationship, including a short, non-explicit sex scene, is drawn with tenderness and respect. Johnny's interactions with his uncle and cousin are also appealingly warm. Still, I kept hoping for more from this book: more insight, more evocative language, more gateways into understanding how Johnny really feels and why. A portrait of a heterosexual teen transvestite is rare in YA fiction; I really wanted a lot from this one.
In the end, I came away a little disappointed, but still appreciating
the story's basic support of individual expression, and I expect many
readers will feel the same. As Johnny's friend (once the only black
guy in his school into punk rock) tells him, "the great thing is, once
you get out in the real world, nobody cares anymore. As long as you
pay the rent." (14 & up)
This is What I Did: by Ann Dee Ellis. Little, Brown, 2007
(978-0-316-01363-5) $16.99
I'm glad I can show the cover of this book here, because I think it could be considered part of the title--that colon is quite deliberate. A lot of this book is about not saying anything, and how in a way, that is still saying something.
This... is a sort of mystery--it's a little reminiscent of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time in spots--and I have to confess that I read ahead to discover the secret, because the suspenseful slow reveal was just killing me. Once I knew what had actually happened, I was able to settle down and enjoy reading. Narrated by thirteen year old Logan, it is a terse, disturbing story, told in dribs and drabs of statements and reported dialogue, a far bit of which is blank:
Patsy: You must be Logan. Me: Patsy: Well, I've got a son your exact age. His name is Bruce. Me: Patsy: You are just going to love him. He's a doll. Me: Patsy: Are you okay?Logan does talk, some of the time, but much of his life is spent not knowing what to do or say; particularly now, when he is burdened both by being a target of severe bullying and by tremendous guilt about a time in his life when he failed to act.
Logan writes in short vignettes, which are separated by small graphics on each page. There's a kicker at the end of almost each one, such as this:
He was sort of riding slower than usual. I should have guessed then. I should have known something was going to happen. Why did it have to happen, Zyler?That example is one I thought a bit overdone for effect, but mostly the style is very effective. It feels like we're in someone else's mind, a mind which moves a little differently than ours perhaps.. It works to draw us into an outsider's perspective and create empathy for someone we might otherwise despise a little.
This... is a shocking story at times, and also very sad, but
very worth reading. The ending has a triumphant aspect, but is far
from pat. Although Logan has no diagnosis (that we are told about,
anyway), I think it would be especially interesting to readers looking
for stories about special needs kids, and/or about bullying, though it
could be enjoyed by most readers just as a suspenseful and emotional
read. * (13 & up)
Johnny Voodoo by Dakota Lane. Delacorte, 1996; Laurel-Leaf,
1997 (0-440-21988-1) $4.50 pb
This dreamy, bittersweet romance gets its moody atmosphere from its
setting in a Louisiana bayou. Alienated from her family and bereft
since the death of her mother, Deidre feels completely alone--until
she meets the mysterious, beautiful boy known as Johnny Voodoo and
learns to believe in love again. Told in a strong, believable voice,
this is a surprising, unusually honest depiction of what it means to
love--or not to love. (14 & up)
The Revelations of Saint Bruce by Tres Seymour. Orchard, 1998
(0-531-30109-5) $16.95
This exploration of morality and betrayal is less successful as a
novel than as an unusually ambitious character study. The hero--or at
least the narrator--is Bruce Wells, a boy with a deeply felt sense of
self that too often clashes with the expectations of society. Bruce's
pride in his individuality is hardly humble, but his moral conviction
are no act and his seemingly perfect, straight arrow character has
earned him the nickname "Saint Bruce"--actually an expression of
admiration amongst his circle of much less upright friends.
The trouble begins when Bruce trusts a teacher a little too much, and
spills the beans about a drinking party at school. When his four
closest friends are suspended, he becomes an outcast: truly, nobody
likes a snitch. As Bruce discovers the consequences of what he did,
for himself and for his friends, he begins to wonder whether the
ongoing fight to be himself is worth it.
Although it's certainly thought-provoking, I was left feeling slightly
short-changed by this book. So many interesting ideas are brought up,
such as Bruce's discovery that his friends thought a "saint" such as
him would never betray them. The different possible definitions of
just what a saint is could have been a powerful theme in this story,
but the surface is only scratched. Even what should be the defining
moment of the book--Bruce's "trial" by his friends--falls flat. And
the religious references that run throughout the book, in quotes and
chapter titles, are mainly window dressing.
What impressed me strongly about The Revelations of Saint Bruce is
that it's one of the few young adult books I've read in which the main
character really seems like someone I might have known in high school.
Rather ironically, Bruce is something of a non-conformist type,
especially when he pontificates about how stupid pep rallys and
convertibles are, as if he's the only teenager to ever think so.
Seymour's portrait is sincere but often unsparing: Bruce is utterly
chagrined when he discovers that others before him have answered his
teacher's numbered roll call by saying "I am not a number. I am a free
man." (A quote from "The Prisoner"--another familiar and plausible
touch.) Even from an adult perspective, I enjoyed seeing this kind of
person as a central protagonist, and I suspect other "non-conformists"
will be intrigued by this rare opportunity to see themselves in
literature.
It was interesting to read Drawing the Ocean right after This is What I Did: (see above)> because there are some general
plot similarities. Both are about teens who are trying to fit
in at a new school while burdened with guilt over feeling that they've
betrayed someone they loved. The approach in each book is very
different though, and could make for a provocative comparison study.
In Drawing the Ocean, we have a more muted, elegantly told
story, quite involving in its own way.
Sixteen year old Sadie is haunted: though her family doesn't talk
about her twin brother Ollie, he's always there. In a nickname her
father can no longer bear to use, in the fear that overtakes Sadie's
mother whenever Sadie's in a car without her, in Sadie's compulsion to
draw the ocean over and over. He even talks to Sadie, which is
especially odd, since he's been dead for four years. "We were
twelve," she remembers. "Part of me will be twelve forever. All of
you will be."
Still, Sadie is determined that moving will be a new start for her.
"I had spent long dreaming hours on how to fit in at my new school.
How it would be a chance to start over and not be that weird girl
anymore who was seen talking to herself sometimes and was way
too into art. I had to make friends early and fast. And act normal.
I was positive I could do it." And Sadie pulls it off; she hooks up
with Lila, who knows all the social rules and is happy to share them
in exchange for copying Sadie's homework. The most important rule:
stay away from "Fryin' " Ryan, a deliberate nonconformist who's the
school outcast.
When Sadie attracts the attention of football star Travis, her social
acceptability seems complete. But somehow she is unable to avoid
encounters with Ryan, discovering the vulnerability he hides behind
his uncaring facade.
A quiet, observant narration by Sadie brings this book fascinating
characterizations. Through her eyes we see that though Ryan is
sometimes smug and a bit of a poseur, he is undoubtedly truly
desperate about trying to survive high school with his sense of self
intact. Even enigmatic cool girl Lila has intriguing depths and a
need for true friendship. There are a few notes in the story that
rang false to me, and the ending seemed to wrap things up too quickly,
with Sadie's guilt over Ollie's death suddenly reaching a resolution
while at the same time she makes a decision about herself and Ryan.
It is in keeping with the generally low-key atmosphere of the story
though, that the resolutions come without much drama, just with
intelligence and feeling. (14 & up)
Introducing a promising new voice in young adult fiction,
Rats Saw God
is a hip, funny , yet intensely-felt portrait at a bright, smartass,
very unhappy teenager who discovers that for most of his life he's
been a rebel without a clue.
In almost no time and for no apparent reason, Steve York has gone from
being a 4.0 student with near perfect attendance to an almost
dropped-out pothead. When DeMouy, the school counselor, asks, "Do you
mind telling me how someone who makes a 760 verbal on his SAT fails
English?" Steve replies, "I couldn't make it all the way through The
Outsiders again." But Steve does care enough about school to want to
graduate, and he needs that English credit. And so he agrees to make
it up by writing a hundred page paper and decides, for once, to take
the classic advice and write about what he knows. "I hoped DeMouy
would appreciate what I was about to do. In order to bypass summer
school, I was set to open wounds that had never really healed."
Alternating between descriptions of his current life and his first two
years at Grace High School, Steve tells the story of his antagonistic
relationship with his famous father (always dismissively referred to
as "the astronaut"), his creative involvement in GOD (Grace Order of
Dadaists), and how his heart was run through frappe, puree, and
liquify in a love blender by fellow Dadaist Wanda, aka Dub. In the
process, he begins to understand things about himself, his father and
Dub that he hadn't realized before. And he finds those opened wounds
beginning to heal.
Narrated with about equal amounts of wit and teenaged angst, Rats
Saw
God is a very believable look at a particular kind of high school
experience. The long description of the progress of Steve's
relationship with Dub drags a little and his transformation at the end
seems overdone for dramatic effect, but the story as a whole is
insightful and compelling.
It's common in romance novels for a girl to fall in love with a lonely
outsider or misunderstood rebel--but how often is that outsider two
years younger and three inches shorter than she is? This slight but
appealing romance tackles a perspective rarely seen in young adult
novels, but familiar in real life: Justine, a bright, lonely
fifteen-year-old, discovers that friendship and love aren't always
found in the obvious places--and that "fitting in" is no match for
true compatibility. Anyone who's ever felt like an outsider will
enjoy Justine's confused attraction to Mike, her wise-cracking but
sensitive thirteen-year-old neighbor, although the "popular kids are
so dumb" tone gets snotty at times, and Justine is sometimes so
wishy-washy, the plot seems forced into melodrama just to extricate
her from uncomfortable situations. (11-15)
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Drawing the Ocean by Carolyn MacCullough. Roaring Brook, 2006
(1-59643-092-3) $16.95
Rats Saw God by Rob Thomas. Simon & Schuster, 1996
(0-689-80207-2)
$17.00; Aladdin, 1998 (0-689-80777-5) $4.99 pb
Lombardo's Law by Ellen Wittlinger. Houghton Mifflin, 1993;
Beech Tree, 1995 (0-688-05294-0) $4.95 pb
Nonfiction