A Notes from the Windowsill annotated bibliography by Wendy E. Betts. Copyright 2005, 2006
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Last Updated 06/18/06
Papa's Latkes by Michelle Edwards. Illustrated by Stacey
Schuett. Candlewick, 2004 (0-7636-0779-7) $15.99
In a winter sometime during World War II, Selma and her little sister
Dora help their father prepare latkes, for the first Chanukah since
their mother died, a few months before. At first Selma is too
grief-stricken to eat: "Papa's latkes shouldn't look like this. They
should look like Mama's latkes. Chanukah shouldn't be like this.
Three people in the kitchen instead of four." But Papa reminds her
that, "we can remember Mama. And we can make latkes and we can still
celebrate Chanukah. That is what Mama would want us to do." Edwards
uses flavorful dialogue to enliven the long, sad story, while
Schuett's oil illustrations bring out the sombreness and uncertainty
in the faces of the two girls, and the desperate cheerfulness of their
father as he tries to make the holiday a happy one. (5-10)
Singer to the Sea God by Vivien Alcock. Delacorte, 1992; Dell
Yearling, 1995 (0-440-41003-7) $3.99 pb
Set in ancient Greece, this unusual adventure story is an exciting, sometimes magical look at how an ordinary person can become inadvertently caught up in the making of legends. Phaidon, a young Greek slave, has his first brush with myths in the making when his sister Cleo is accidentally turned into stone by Perseus and the Medusa's head. As Perseus tells him, "Innocent people suffer in wars. It's always been that way." But when Cleo's body is stolen from him to be sold as a statue, Phaidon vows that nothing will stop him from finding it and giving her a proper burial--and that includes a six-headed monster and a mysterious oracular prophecy that he is expected to fulfill.
Phaidon's adventures in pursuit of his vow make for an enthralling
tale, enhanced by a memorable cast of characters and a deftly created
other world. But what really drives the story is an underlying
wistful sadness at the fate of Cleo and a curiosity about how
Phaidon--young, clumsy, and certainly not innately heroic--will manage
to address the wrong done to her. The bittersweet resolution to his
quest is an unexpected, yet thematically satisfying end to a story
that is fated to become myth.
The Barn by Avi. Orchard, 1994; Avon Camelot, 1996
(0-380-72562-2) $4.50 pb
Everyone knows that nine year old Benjamin is the smart one of his family, "fit for more than farming." But when his father is struck down by a fit of palsy (a stroke), Ben has to leave school, to help his brother and sister keep their homestead claim going and tend their helpless, speechless father. As Ben struggles with the often disgusting tasks of keeping his father clean and fed, he finds the hardest part is seeing their once kind, jovial father so vacant: "It was like keeping watch on an empty box."
Then Ben discovers that his father had wanted to build a barn for his sake, so that if school made him dissatisfied with the farm, he'd "have something fine to come home to." And he finds that the dream of the barn is the key to reaching the person that still lives, somewhere within the "deep, dark cave" his father has become. Somehow, he must convince his family to make the dream come true, so he can give his father a reason to survive--and prove that going to school hasn't made him different.
Short and spare, The Barn is so economically written that not a word
is wasted; every line of the text resonates with thought and emotion.
The characters and setting are real and immediate, and the powerful
first person narrative draws the reader in, to share Ben's initial
despair, a growing sense of urgency and the mixed rage, anguish and
triumph of the ending. Compelling, original and emotionally
authentic, this is an astonishing story. * (9 & up)
Ruthie's Gift by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley. Illustrated by Dave
Kramer. Delacorte, 1998 (0-385-32525-8) $14.95; Dell Yearling, 1999
(0-440-41405-9) $4.50 pb
This light, episodic story tells the adventures of eight-year-old
Ruthie Hawk, just before the start of World War I. Growing up with
six brothers--surrounded by boys--Ruthie finds it hard to be the
proper lady her mother wants her to be. When she sees a beautiful
doll in the Sears Roebuck catalog, she dreams that it could help her
be more ladylike: "Having her would be almost like having a sister."
But the doll costs almost $5, an incredible sum. How Ruthie learns
that she can be a lady through her own strong character and good
heart--and gets the reward she deserves--makes for a likable,
satisfying story. (8-12)
Dear Great American Writers School by Sherry Bunin. Houghton
Mifflin, 1995 (0-71645-4) OP
Twin Branch, Kentuck may be a small town, but it's full of interesting
characters just waiting to be turned into stories. So when Bobby Lee
Pomeroy sees an ad for a mail order writing school--"Turn stories into
dollars!"--she's sure it will change her life. And in it's own way,
it does. This fresh and funny epistolary novel chroncicles a youn
girl's growth from a naive dreamer who thinks of writing as a way to
get rich quick into an educated young woman who has learned to value
herself and her talent. Along the way she has many funny and
bittersweet tales to tell about small town life during World War II,
in a voice that's lively, wry, yet homey: "I saw the two of them up at
the Five and Dime looking into each other's eyes like they were
counting the specks." "My heart was fluttering like paper caught in
an electric fan." Although Bobby Lee's voice has some narrative
limitations and is even occasionally marred by anachronistic slang,
she is a memorable and inspriring character. (10 & up)
Molly's Pilgrim by Barbara Cohen. Illustrated by Daniel
Duffy. William Morrow, 1983; Beech Tree, 1998 (0-688-16280-0)
Weaving a gentle message about learning from other cultures into an
easy-to-read story, Molly's Pilgrim is a thoughtful look at the
problems of a young immigrant. Third-grade Molly is miserable in her
new school, where she is constantly taunted about not speaking English
perfectly and being Jewish. When her mother makes a doll for the
class Thanksgiving project, Molly is even more humiliate: the doll
looks like a little Russian girl, not a Pilgrim. But as Molly and her
classmates learn, "Pilgrim" can mean anyone who travels to find
freedom: like Molly and her family. Although set around the turn of
the century, Molly's sympathetic narrative could be that of any
"pilgrim" today. (5-8)
Make a Wish, Molly by Barbara Cohen. Illustrated by Jan Naimo Jones.
Doubleday, 1994; Dell Yearling, 1995 (0-440-41058-4)
The follow-up to Molly's Pilgrim is a similar yet somewhat
richer and more sophisticated story, intended for slightly older
readers. Several months have passed for Molly and she's much happier,
because she's found a friend named Emma. But when Emma has a birthday
party, Molly can't eat any of her wonderful birthday cake: it's
Passover, and regular flour is forbidden. For Elizabeth, Molly's old
enemy, it's the perfect chance to make trouble between Molly and Emma
by spreading nasty rumors about Jewish customs. Molly's too shy and
embarrassed to explain--but how can she keep her friend? This longer
narrative gives Molly more depth than the previous book, making her
and even more sympathetic and understandable character. (6-10)
The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis.
Delacorte, 1995 (0-385-32175-9) $14.95; Dell Yearling, 1997
(0-440-41412-1) $4.99 pb; Laurel-Leaf, 2001 (0-440-22800-X) $5.99 pb
Definitely deserving--at the very least--its 1995 Newbery Honor, this is an unique and memorable book, a funny, sad and loving story about the power of family in the brightest and darkest times of life.
The Watsons--the Weird Watsons, as they sometimes get called, especially after Byron gets his lips frozen kissing his reflection in the car mirror--are Momma, Dad, Byron, Kenny and Joetta, a working-class black family suffering through the cold of Flint, Michigan in the early 1960's. Kenny is the narrator, an intelligent but unsophisticated "Poindexter"--read "nerd"--who describes with innocent humor his family's quirks, his troubles with bullies, and his love-hate relationship with his tough, sometimes brutal older brother Byron, who casually protects him when not busy tormenting him himself. Byron, having turned thirteen, is an "official teenage juvenile delinquent," and his parents are starting to find him uncontrollable. And so they decide to finally follow-up on their threat to take him to Grandma Sands in Birmingham, Alabama, a strict disciplinarian who "won't be putting up with any of that mess."
What awaits the Watsons in Birmingham? A small but devastating part in one of the most tragic, incomprehensible moments in American history; an event that will leave Kenny reeling from the unfairness of life and the sudden awareness of true evil. And when he is at his lowest ebb, hiding in the space behind the couch like a hurt animal waiting to heal, it is tough, seemingly heartless Byron that comes to his rescue.
Children's books that deal with heavy, painful subjects are
commonplace these days, but what sets The Watsons apart is that
most of the narrative is so lighthearted, with no forebodings in the
text of the events of the end. Readers are unlikely to understand the
significance of the title; I didn't make the connection myself until I
saw the book's dedication to four girls who died very young, "the toll
for one day in one city." But I don't think Curtis was aiming for
shock value, which would just make the book annoying; rather, the
contrast between the book's beginning and end emphasizes the
incomprehensible swiftness with which life can change and our sense of
security get ripped from us. The humor and lively characterizations
of the narrative also make it far more pleasurable to read than most
other children's books about tragic events, which are invariably
almost unrelievedly sombre. Ending on a positive note, as Kenny
realizes that he will always have the security of his family's love,
The Watsons turns what could be a dirge into a celebration of
what is good in life. (10 & up)
The Ballad of Lucy Whipple by Karen Cushman. Clarion, 1996
(0-395-72806-1) $13.95; HarperTrophy, 1998 (0-06-440684-9) $4.95 pb
Cushman's third historical novel departs from the world of medieval England for a very different time and place: California during the gold rush. But thankfully, the change of setting hasn't changed Cushman's vivid, earthy prose or her skill at creating a real and memorable heroine. California Morning Whipple, the daughter of Western-dreaming parents--her siblings were named Butte, Prairie, Sierra, Golden Promise, and Ocean--doesn't share the family dream in the slightest. When her father dies and her mother finally moves the family to Lucky Diggins, California, California the girl's first reaction to the "majestic, noble, imposing, magnificent" land is "Awful. Just awful." There's no school, no library, not even any houses; like everyone else, the Whipples will live in a tent.
Quickly deciding she must change her name--"in California it was not just a name. It was a place, a passion, a promise"--California becomes Lucy, "because it was not beautiful but ordinary... It was a very Massachusetts name." And Massachusetts is where Lucy longs, with all her heart, to return. But despite her best efforts, the hardships of life in Lucky Diggins keep her secret store of pickle crock money from growing enough to pay for her passage home. Though she refuses to accept life in Lucky Diggins, Lucy is forced to put aside her dreams and her books to help the family. She finds herself making friends, particularly with Lizzie, a wild, tough girl from an abusive family, and Bernard, an escaped slave, both of whom show her some new ways of looking at the world. As the Whipple family struggles through hard times and painful losses, Lucy, who has always valued safety above everything else, learns the value of freedom. In a delightfully surprising ending, she comes to understand what home really means, and achieves her real heart's desire at last.
Through Lucy's pungent, heartfelt narrative, Cushman tells a colorful
story that brings the Gold Rush setting to life. At its heart though,
is a theme that was also the center of her Medieval story Catherine,
Called Birdy and is equally meaningful in today's world: that
children don't often have many choices about their lives. This time
around, Cushman manages to find a satisfying resolution that offers an
understanding of both the importance of family and the necessity of
following your own dreams. (10-14)
An Island Far from Home by John Donahue. Carolrhoda, 1995
(0-87614-859-3) $14.96
For twelve-year-old Joshua Loring, news that the Civil War may be ending soon is a disappointment: ever since the death of his father, a Union doctor, he's been eager to join up and "make them pay." But Josh's uncle, an officer at a nearby army prison, knows that the South is already paying "with its blood," and he urges Josh to write a letter to one of the Confederate prisoners, a lonely fourteen-year-old named John Meadows. Soon Josh and John are corresponding regularly, sharing the details of their lives and learning that "sometimes our enemies are very much like ourselves." Then the war ends, and Josh realizes that he and John may never again have a chance to see each other. And so he sets out on a very dangerous journey: to sneak into the island prison and finally meet the Reb soldier who had somehow become a close friend.
Well written and emotionally credible, An Island Far From Home
is both
an absorbing and educational story. Along with some exciting
adventure and an effective portrait of a young boy's life in the
1860's, it offers a clear, basic understanding of some of the complex
emotional issues surrounding the Civil War. As Josh comes to
understand, both sides had reason to believe they were in the right
and both sides had terrible loses that must somehow be forgiven,
because "people are gonna have to live together again." Donahue does
a good job of creating a balanced picture of the different attitudes
of the time, while still maintaining an authentic atmosphere.
(8-13)
Radical Red by James Duffy. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1993
(0-684-19533-X) $13.95
The fight for women's suffrage has unexpected consequences for a twelve-year-old girl and her family in this historical novel set in Albany in 1894. Connor O'Shea and her mother Nora, both of whom know what it's like to feel powerless, are rapidly converted to the suffragists' cause by women activists paving the way for Susan B. Anthony's appeal at the state constitutional convention. But their assistance in the cause has to be kept a secret: Connor's father, an ambitious policeman, is vehemently opposed to the suffragists and determined to do whatever he can to stop them. When he discovers the truth and violently beats them both - not for the first time - Nora and Connor leave him to start a new life together, finding a personal victory despite the failure of Anthony's appeal.
Like many "issue" novels, Radical Red suffers from having a
narrow -
and not a particularly well-developed--focus. The suffragists are
not interestingly characterized and most of the political elements of
the story are dull. The main power of the book is the strongly drawn
relationship between Connor and her mother and the personal effect the
suffragist movement has on them, giving Nora the resolution to leave
Connor's abusive father. Although the book focuses on Connor and
Anthony, it is Nora, the woman who's always been a "good wife" but
refuses to let her husband abuse her child again,who is ultimately the
most interesting heroine. (10-14)
Sound the Jubilee by Sandra Forrester. Lodestar, 1995
(0-525-67486-1) $15.99; Puffin, 1997 (0-14-037930-4) $4.99 pb
A little-known episode in American history is the basis for this moving story about a slave family's first experience with freedom. Eleven-year-old Maddie and her family could never hope to escape from their owner's North Carolina plantation; the risks are far too great. But when their terrified Mistress takes them to an island in the Outer Banks to escape the Civil War, they suddenly have the perfect opportunity: nearby Roanoke Island has been turned into a safe haven for runaway slaves, and running away is a simple matter of walking away. Island life is far from perfect, and the former slaves must cope with constant battles against the elements, dangerous illnesses, and unkept promises and racial hatred even from the Union soldiers who are supposed to be helping them. But though the life is hard, being able to build their own homes, work their own land and for once enjoy the fruit of their own labor is, for many, like having found "heaven on earth."
Told in the context of Maddie's troubled adolescence, as she struggles
to find out who she is, fulfill her dreams of an education, and make
her family accept her as her own person, Sound the Jubilee is a
sympathetic and engrossing story. Sadly, as with most histories of
this kind, the ending is unhappy and unjust: with the end of the war,
the original owners of Roanoke Island received pardons for their war
crimes, and the land that had been given to the hardworking runaways
to be tamed, farmed and turned into a community was taken from them.
But through the character of Maddie, who is strong, intelligent and
willing to fight for her dreams, Forrester puts a brave face on the
ending, showing that the experience of Roanoke Island was one the now
free black families could use to help them succeed in their new lives.
(10-14)
Lily's Crossing by Patricia Reilly Giff. Delacorte, 1997
(0-385-32142-2) $14.95; Dell Yearling, 1998 (0-440-41453-9) $4.99 pb
Rockaway Beach during World War II is the atmospheric background for this tender story of friendship and growth. Lily Mollahan loves summers at the beach, where she's free from school, and piano lessons, and the way she never seems to live up to people's expectations. And this year she really intends to work on her "list of problems"--especially her tendency to make up extravagant stories.
But the summer of 1944 isn't like any other summer: Lily's father is being sent overseas, her best friend at Rockaway is moving away, and Lily is left alone, except for her perpetually nagging grandmother. Then she meets Albert, a young refugee from Hungary, and Lily finds herself telling her worst lie ever, bragging that she plans to swim out to an army ship and join her father in Europe. When Albert decides to go too, so that he can find the little sister he left behind in France, Lily discovers that her impulsive lie has put his life in danger.
With scrupulous attention to detail, Giff carefully creates the world
of 1944--so carefully in fact, it doesn't feel quite real at first.
But with Albert's appearance, the story comes to life; his
interactions with Lily are believable and engaging, as they slowly
become friends and begin to share their pain and loneliness. Through
Albert's experiences, Lily comes to understand many new things about
herself and her life, including the fact that her grandmother really
does love her; her inner growth is depicted with perception and
without didacticism. With the background of summer days near the wild
ocean adding a special tang, this is a poignant look at the homefront
experience and the special bonds of friendship. (8-12)
Earthquake at Dawn by Kristiana Gregory. Harcourt Brace, 1992;
2003 (0-15-204681-X) $5.95 pb
Anyone who has lived through a major earthquake knows that surviving the initial shaking is only the beginning of the ordeal. Earthquake at Dawn, a description of the aftermath of the great quake of 1908, is not only interesting historical fiction, but provides some understanding of the experience of quake survivors--showing not only the terrors and major deprivations, but the implacable destruction of everyday life that's almost harder to bear.
Earthquake at Dawn uses a fictional narrator, fifteen-year-old Daisy Valentine, but the events of the story are centered around documentation left by two women: Mary Exa Atkins Campbell, who wrote an exhaustive, revealing letter about the experience, and Edith Irvine, who took photographs of the ruins of San Francisco at much personal risk. (Quotes from the letter and several of Irvine's photographs are included in the book.) In the story imagined here, Edith Irvine is accompanied on a trip abroad by Daisy, a family servant with dreams of seeing the world. Those dreams are abruptly halted by the earthquake; although Edith and Daisy are relatively safe on a boat in San Francisco harbor when the quake strikes, their efforts to find Edith's father at City Hall soon lead them into the heart of the disaster. Their fictional meeting with Mary Exa brings them together with others into a circle of people trying to help each other through the worst of the ordeals: lack of water, pregnant women going into labor, fires and explosions, and looters and vigilantes. Adding insult to injury is their growing awareness that a corrupt government is trying to cover up the extent of the damage, making Edith's attempts to document it with photographs a risky enterprise.
Although Gregory falls prey to the historical fiction writer's worst
temptation--the urge to write in every well-known person who might
possibly have met her characters--Earthquake at Dawn is
engrossing and heartfelt, a very accessible record of this important
event. The attention paid to seemingly small details--the annoyance
of itchy, unwashed hair, the panic from hearing sudden thumps, Daisy's
embarrassment after she saves herself from fire by leaving her skirt
behind--helps give a picture of how it feels when your entire life is
being continually disrupted (aftershocks making it impossible to ever
feel safe), yet you still have to get on with day-to-day living. I
just wish it had been within the scope of the book to include all of
Campbell's letter, as its excerpts brought the experience to life even
more strongly. (10-14)
The Gentleman Outlaw and Me--Eli by Mary Downing Hahn. Clarion,
1996 (0-395-73083-X) $14.95; Avon Camelot, 1997 (0-380-72883-4) $4.50 pb;
Clarion, 2007 (978-0-618-83000-8) $5.95 pb (Note: The latest paperback
edition has been retitled The Gentleman Outlaw and Me.)
For this book, Hahn leaves her usual suspense genre to explore the old west, and proves that she's as much at home with card-sharks and horse thieves as she is with sinister strangers. Our heroine is twelve-year-old Eliza Yates, a spirited girl with a sassy tongue, who narrates the story of how she become Elijah Bates, the boy confederate of the notorious Gentleman Outlaw. Neither of them, however, was exactly what they seemed.
Eliza's adventure begins when she and her beloved dog Caeser run away from her harsh relatives, to find the father who went west when she was five. Disguised as a boy, she saves the life of Calvin Featherbone, a refined young man who claims to be an experienced outlaw. His friend Miss Nellie draws a different picture of him, however: "Some folks think they know it all, but talking like you swallowed a dictionary don't mean a thing if you aint got common sense." And Eli soon discovers the truth of her words, as Calvin--who's as stubborn as he is conceited--gets her into one dangerous get-rich scheme after another.
There's nothing especially original about this plot, but it certainly
doesn't seem stale. With a relish in her story that is highly
infectious, Hahn spins a lively, funny tale, with lovable characters,
a strong sense of place and an enjoyable dash of romance. (9-13)
Following My Own Footsteps by Mary Downing Hahn. Clarion, 1996
(0-395-76477-7) $13.95
Hahn's award-winning book Stepping On the Cracks introduced rough, tough Gordy Smith, a boy whom she originally envisioned as "a combination of three of the biggest bullies in my hometown." In this follow-up, Gordy takes center stage as the narrator as Hahn explores the forces that made him the way he is--and shows that he can be more.
The story opens with Gordy and his family on their way to stay with his unknown grandmother in North Carolina; the violently abusive "old man," his father, has finally been arrested. Contemptuous of his little sister June's efforts to please their grandmother and win affection, Gordy at first reacts to his new life the same as always, determined to reject everyone before they reject him. When his grandmother warns him that "if you don't learn to control that temper, you'll follow in your father's footsteps," Gordy retorts "I'll never be like that SOB!"--but he is obviously well on his way.
Still, Gordy starts to respect his grandmother for her strict but fair
treatment, and he makes an unexpected friend in William, a neighbor
boy handicapped by polio. Then Gordy's older brother Donny comes home
from World War II--not the hero that Gordy expected, but a depressed,
boozing loser--and "the old man" shows up, full of big promises about
the great new life he'll give them in California. Incredibly, Gordy's
mother is ready to give him yet another chance, but Gordy is
determined not to put himself in his father's power again. But what
will he do if his grandmother won't let him stay? And an even more
troubling question haunts Gordy, after a calamitous attempt to get
William to walk on his own: is he really "just like the old man"?
Gordy's vivid first-person narrative makes this an accessible yet
multi-faceted portrait of a boy struggling with complex forces in his
life, made even more complex by his refusal to look them in the face.
Through his relationships with June, Donny and William, Hahn shows the
caring impulses and essential naivete that Gordy hasn't yet managed to
destroy in himself; his grandmother's intelligence and authority offer
him a chance for self-knowledge and change. Although the conclusion of
the William episode makes the happy ending seem overdone, this is
overall a strong, positive story, with a well-crafted period setting
and atmosphere. (9-13)
Lotta's Progress by Norma Johnston. Avon, 1997 (0-380-97367-7)
$14.00; Avon, 1999 (0-380-78916-7) $3.99 pb
Many readers of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women vividly remember the scene in which the March girls unselfishly give their Christmas breakfast to a poor German family. This fictional work by the author of the biography Louisa May makes an imaginative leap to tell that story as it might really have happened to a German family meeting the Alcotts in 1848.
Lotta Muller and her family come to America believing that it's a land of freedom and opportunity. But instead of streets paved with gold, jobs for the asking and schools open to all, they find crowded tenements, wretched poverty and rampant discrimination against immigrants. Just when the family has seemingly hit rock bottom, Lotta is given the name and address of Mrs. Bronson Alcott, a "crazy lady" who "goes around giving things away to poor folks." The Alcotts, although relatively poor themselves, do help the Mullers--giving them not only material goods, but the resources to be able to provide for themselves. And the steadfast conviction of the power of determination and hard work she finds in young "Louy" Alcott gives Lotta something very important: a renewed belief in the American dream.
This smoothly written, well-paced story, told from Lotta's point of
view, is a sympathetic look at the realities of immigrant life, giving
a far more human face to characters only seen as pitiful recipients of
the March's charity. The flip side of this is that as Lotta and Louy
become good friends, it becomes increasingly implausible that the sort
of equal relationship Johnston envisions could ever have been the
basis of the depiction of the Hummels in Little Women; it might have
been better if the book did not draw on that connection at all.
Nevertheless, this is an engaging story that can be appreciated both
by fans of Little Women and by those who have yet to read it. Fans
will especially enjoy seeing the details of Alcott's life that reflect
her books--many of them real, others further, playful, imaginative
leaps by Johnston. (10-14)
Earthquake! by Kathleen V. Kudlinski. Viking, 1993
(0-670-84874-3);
Puffin, 1995 (0-14-036390-4) $3.99 pb
Part of the "Once Upon America" series, this book gives a brief but
vivid portrait of the immediate aftereffects of the 1906 San Francisco
earthquake. The story follows twelve-year old Phillip, who is trying
to calm the strangely terrified horses in his father's livery stable
when the quake hits. He and his family escape unharmed, but their
house is ruined, and a nearby gas leak spells immediate danger.
Trying to cope with the loss of everything familiar, Phillip doggedly
holds on to one thought: somehow saving their horses and the family
business. Conveying a strong sense of the emotional devastation that
accompanies a disaster, Earthquake! manages to end on a
believable
note of hope, as Phillip takes comfort in his ability to care for
horses, the one thing that nothing can take away from him. (7-11)
All is Well by Kristin Embray Litchman. Delacorte, 1998
(0-385-32592-4) $14.95; Dell Yearling, 1999 (0-440-41488-1) $3.99 pb
When a new family moves in next door, Emmy Frailey is delighted to find that they have a daughter, Miranda, just about her age. But the new neighbors aren't so welcome to her mother, her father and her father's other wife, Aunt Zena: they're Christians, or "Gentiles," and their presence signifies a threatening change in the formerly all-Mormon neighborhood. As the two girls become friends, the families gradually learn to trust and respect one another... but life has become more dangerous for polygamous Mormons in Utah, and Emmy's pa is forced to go underground to avoid jail. Then Miranda becomes sick with typhoid and Emmy knows that only one thing can save her: a blessing from Pa.
If they can get past the painfully soppy cover, readers will find this
a pleasant, undemanding story that's most notable for providing a
perspective rarely seen in children's literature. Litchman does her
best to explain both sides of the conflict without getting into sticky
areas; the result is naturally a simplified explanation that may not
satisfy all readers. Aside from one implausible conversation, the
historical setting is well drawn, giving a good sense of what life was
like for a Mormon farm girl in 1885. (8-12)
Fire at the Triangle Factory by Holly Littlefield. Illustrated
by Mary O'Keefe Young. Carolrhoda, 1996 (0-87611-868-2);
(0-87614-970-0) $5.95 pb
A tragic historical episode, the fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist
Company in 1911, is a vivid background for this exciting fictional
story about two friends named Tessa and Minnie. The two teenaged
girls, one Jewish, one Catholic, aren't supposed to be friends--but
when fire breaks out in the factory in which they work, their
friendship saves both of their lives. Although this book is written
at a very low reading level, in short, direct sentences, it's at a
much more advanced interest level; it's probably most appropiate for
remedial use, rather than beginning readers. (7-12)
Number the Stars by Lois Lowry. Houghton Mifflin, 1989
(0-395-51060-0) $13.45; Laurel-Leaf, 1998 (0-440-22753-4) $4.99 pb
One of the best uses of children's literature is to make complex subjects and concepts more immediate and personal, "sizing them down," as it were, to their most basic level. For a subject as complex and staggering as the Holocaust, good children's books are vitally necessary--'books that don't try to tell the whole story, but make the situation come alive through one situation, one character. In Number the Stars, Lois Lowry found a story to tell that reveals a lesser known aspect of that evil period: the courage and humanity of ordinary, good people who fought against it. The result is a poignant, life-affirming novel that richly deserved its 1990 Newbery Medal.
It is 1943 in Denmark, but for ten-year-old Annemarie and her best friend Ellen Rosen, life is fairly ordinary, despite the privations of war and the often frightening presence of German soldiers. Then suddenly the danger becomes acute for the Danish Jews and Ellen's family must go into hiding, leaving her behind as Annemarie's "sister." That night the Nazis come and Annemarie just barely manages to break Ellen's Star of David off of her neck in time.
The next day, Annemarie's family goes to visit Uncle Henrik, a fisherman who lives right on the water. "You can stand on the edge of the meadow and look across to Sweden," she tells Ellen, not realizing then the significance of her own words. But when the time has come to say goodbye to her friend, Annemarie understands without being told where she is going--and when it's discovered that a vitally important package has been left behind by the refugees, Annemarie knows that somehow she must get it to the boat. Then she is stopped by German soldiers. She is only a timid little girl: can she possibly find the wits and courage to deceive them?
As told in the afterword of Number the Stars, "almost the
entire Jewish population of Denmark--nearly seven thousand
people--was smuggled across the sea to Sweden,"
right before their "relocation" was to begin. This is the kind of
story epics can be made of, but Lowry's simply-written book focuses on
the small, personal aspects of the drama--just good, caring
people doing what they can, sometimes at the cost of their
lives--and thereby gives even more meaning to the history.
Annemarie doesn't go looking to be a hero--at the beginning
of the book she is "glad to be an ordinary person who would
never be called upon for courage." But she is called upon,
and discovers that even the most frightened person can be brave when
she needs to be. Reading her fictional story gives a new
understanding to the facts that are told in the afterword: for every
Jewish family that made it to Sweden, there is an untold story of
goodness and sacrifice. (8 & up)
Skylark by Patricia MacLachlan. HarperCollins, 1994
(0-06-023328-1);
HarperTrophy, 1997 (0-06-440622-9) $4.50 pb
"'Happily ever after,' said Caleb when Papa married Sarah. 'Now we'll live happily ever after. That what the stories say.'" Of course, real life is rarely that simple; though Anna, Caleb and their Papa all love Sarah, their happiness is disrupted by a severe drought that turns their beautiful prairie into a remorselessly hot and dangerously dry land. Anna, the young narrator, watches her stepmother in constant fear, seeing how much she misses the coolness of her native Maine; even though Sarah would never desert her new family or give up a fight, she hates the land that gets everything from people and "gives nothing back"--and as as her friend Maggie tells her, "If you don't love it, you won't survive... You have to write your name in the land to live here." But it will take the ultimate, painful test of separation for Sarah to finally give herself up to the prairie and truly "write her name in the land."
Like its predecessor, Sarah, Plain and Tall, this is a short,
spare, evocative story, expressing deep feelings in simple words.
It's a
style perfectly suited to the homey life of the prairie and to the
quiet characters, who aren't always "good with words" but who can see
the important things between the lines. (8 & up)
The Day That Elvis Came to Town by Jan Marino. Little, Brown,
1993; Avon Camelot, 1993 (0-380-71672-0) OP
With her father's drinking, her mother's constant nagging and a home so filled with boarders she has to sleep on the sun porch, it's no wonder that Wanda tries to shut the outside world out, finding her only peace and privacy in listening to Elvis Presley records and dreaming he's dancing with her. The arrival of a new boarder, blues singer Mercedes Washington, seems to open a new world for Wanda: not only is Mercedes kind and understanding, but she actually went to high school with Elvis! Soon Wanda has a new dream - meeting her idol in person - and she refuses to see anything that gets in the way of that dream, even the fact that the beautiful, glamorous Mercedes has serious troubles of her own.
Marino has written a tender, absorbing story about learning to
appreciate people for who they are, rather than who you want them to
be. Wanda and her family are drawn with sympathetic honesty and the
many complex issues of the story - racism, alcoholism, poverty - are
interwoven so delicately that they never seem forced or overwhelming.
(8-12)
White Lilacs by Carolyn Meyer. Gulliver, 1993 (0-15-200641-9)
$10.95 hc; (0-15-295876-2) $3.95 pb
A shameful, little-known episode in American history is fictionalized in this poignant novel. While waiting table for her employer's Garden Club, twelve-year-old Rose Lee Jefferson overhears a frightening conversation: The Garden Club's latest plan to beautify the city is by "getting rid of us." It's 1921, and Rose Lee and her family, like almost all the other blacks in Dillon, Texas, live in a neighborhood called Freedom. They have their own school, churches and businesses, as well as Rose Lee's grandfather's beautiful garden, "The Garden of Eden...right here in Freedom." Now the white residents of Dillon want to "rid our city of the blight...eradicate the squalor" of Freedom and they look upon its residents like children..."who may have to be persuaded that it's for everyone's good." And as Rose Lee discovers when her school is burned down, there's nothing that the white citizens of Dillon won't do to persuade them.
Told through Rose Lee's eyes, White Lilacs is a moving story of
a
young girl forced to witness the devastation of her entire community.
Although slightly flawed by a strained and slap-dash ending that seems
designed merely to highlight a "good" white person, its clear and
forthright version of the true story of Quakertown, Texas is a quietly
pointed reminder of a terrible injustice. (10-14)
The Girl-Son by Anne E. Neuberger. Carolrhoda, 1994
(0-87614-846-1); (1-57505-077-3) $6.95 pb
When Induk Pahk was born in 1896, her father first named her "Imduk," which means "virtuous woman" in Korean. He hoped this name would help counteract the powerful birth signs she was born under, signs wasted on a mere girl. But the signs--and Imduk's mother--had other plans for her and at the age of seven she was reborn as "Induk" ("benevolence"): a boy. For a year, Induk pretended to be a boy in order to be allowed to go to school--only the first of many challenges she would face to get an education. Her struggles led to a vow to live up to the meaning of her name: to do kindnesses for others and help them become free.
This simply written but inspiring true story celebrates the spirit of
a young woman who "spent her adult life giving others freedom through
education." It's also an intriguing look at the role of women in
Korean culture in the nineteenth century and a strong commentary on
the importance of education. (8-12)
The Lights Go On Again by Kit Pearson. Viking, 1994
(0-670-84919-7) OP
It's been almost five years since Gavin and Norah were sent to Canada as English refugee "War Guests," as told in The Sky is Falling and Looking at the Moon. Now the war finally seems to be ending, but although fifteen-year-old Norah yearns for home, ten-year-old Gavin feels that he's already there, with his friends, dog and adoring "Aunt" Florence. His parents are only distant memories...so distant that when word comes they have been killed by a bomb, he feels almost nothing--except hope that the two of them can now stay in Canada. When Aunt Florence offers to adopt them, Norah refuses, insisting that she belongs in England with what's left of their family--but Gavin, seeing a chance to keep almost everything he loves, decides to stay. But can he really bear to lose his one link to his biological family?
An excess of exposition about the previous books makes it difficult to
get involved in this story, but once past the explanations it is
engrossing and thought-provoking, with realistically fallible
characters. Gavin himself sometimes seems too self-centered and
wishy-washy to be sympathetic, but his character is redeemed in a
satisfying yet poignant ending: the discovery of a lost old toy
unleashes his pent-up grief for his parents, causing him to return to
England with his sister and struggle to "be brave" about his
homesickness for Canada. (10-14)
Nobody's Daughter by Susan Beth Pfeffer. Delacorte, 1995
(0-385-32106-6) $14.95; Dell Yearling, 1996 (0-440-41160-2) $3.99 pb
Emily Lathrop Hasbrouck has spent her short life being trained to be grateful for the roof over her head; the orphaned child of a "no-account" Hasbrouck, she has no claim on anyone for a home. Living first on the Christian charity of her great-aunt (which doesn't extend to providing for Emily in her will) and next at an orphanage, Emily tries to be good and grateful, but she can't help wanting things: a real home, a piano to play, a future as more than a servant--and to be free from the taunts and bullying of the rich girls in town, who make the orphans--helpless to retaliate against the children of the men whose charity they live on--their favorite prey. Emily holds on to one hope, that she'll be able to find the family who adopted her baby sister, who simply must honor the tie of blood and take her in too. But when the usual tormenting goes much too far one day, Emily's hope is shattered, leaving her with the realization that as an unwanted orphan she is truly entitled to nothing in this life--except ordinary justice.
A sobering portrait of what it can mean to be all alone in an
intolerant world, this is a painfully bleak novel. An aura of sadness
hangs over even the most cheerful scenes, foreshadowing the inevitable
heartwrenching climax that spells the end of Emily's hopes. Pfeffer
manages to scrape together a reasonably positive and still-believable
ending, but the atmosphere of sadness lingers, mute testimony to the
true seriousness of the problem and the improbability of many happy
endings. (8-12)
The Hopscotch Tree by Leda Siskind. Bantam, 1992; Dell Yearling,
1995 (0-440-40959-4) $3.50 pb
Every day, Edith dreads the sight of the Purple Sweater, aka Zandra Kott. Being Jewish, Edith is a prime target for Zandra and her bullying gang, and even talking to her favorite tree can't seem to help her figure out what to do about it. But when Edith discovers a secret about Zandra, she has to grapple with an even more important problem: whether she can stop Zandra's cruelty without becoming cruel herself.
Set in the 1960's, this is a strong portrait of what it's like to be an outsider among people who are hostile at worst, ignorant at best: the complete obliviousness of Edith's teachers that cutting out angels and singing religious carols might make her uncomfortable is a pertinent comment on what anyone outside of the standard mold has to deal with. There's no miraculous happy ending, but a believably positive one that shows the value of standing up for yourself and keeping your integrity. (8-12)
Love from Your Friend, Hannah by Mindy Warshaw Skolsky. DK Publishing,
1998; HarperTrophy, 1999 (0-06-440746-2) $5.95 pb
I hope it may be a sign of a change in the mood of children's fiction, that the two happiest books I've read in ages are set in a poor urban neighborhood (Jonah the Whale) and during the Great Depression. If there's one thing this book is not, it's depressing; I smiled all the way through it.
Hannah Diamond is looking for someone to write to: her best friend
Aggie has moved away and never answers any of her letters. But trying
the "pen pals" box at school only gets her "two measly lines and an
unfriendly P.S." from a BOY. So Hannah decides to take her problem
straight to the top, asking President Roosevelt to help her find a pen
pal. It's the beginning of some wonderful correspondences, as Hannah
finds herself writing to the president, his wife and his secretary, as
well as to her grandmother, a friendly drifter who stopped by her
parent's restaurant, and the recalcitrant Aggie. And by the end of
the book she has found the pen pal she most wanted, a true friend, in
a most unexpected place.
Hannah's letters, and their replies, also create relationships; even
the characters who never write letters themselves, like Hannah's
mother and father, acquire clear personalities, seen through Hannah's
eyes. Hannah herself is the most vivid personality: her warmth,
imagination and sincerity are unmistakable. Her reluctant pen pal
Edward Winchley is a match for her, a wryly funny boy whose letters
slowly reveal the sadness of his life. When Edward begins to change,
in response to Hannah's letters, we believe it, because we believe in
both of them.
I can't wait to read more books about Hannah. I wish she would write
to me. * (8 & up)
The period and setting of Cat Running--California during the
Depression--bring to mind an older, much-loved book by Snyder, The
Velvet Room. Those aren't the only resemblances: like Robin in
The
Velvet Room, Cat Kinsey also feels the need to run away from her
problems, and she also finds a special, secret place to escape to.
But real life inevitably intrudes on those trying to escape it, this
time in the form of Sammy Perkins, a ragged little "Okie" girl who is
drawn to Cat's secret grotto--and the beautiful doll Cat keeps there.
Cat already has reason to despise the Perkins family: Sammy's older
brother Zane Perkins has shown her up by running barefoot in the
school races, while she refused to run because her father wouldn't let
her wear slacks. And she has been well taught to avoid "those
disgusting Okies" and their "dirty, diseased children." Desolate
little Sammy is hard to hate though, and as Cat's initial fear and
dislike of the poverty-stricken "Okies" changes to sympathy and
understanding, she learns some surprising truths about her own family
problems--and about the importance of running to get somewhere, rather
than to get away.
Beautifully enhancing the straightforward changes that go on in Cat's
heart and mind with more subtle layers of meaning , Snyder has written
yet another book that readers will be able to sympathize and grow
with, finding it more touching and powerful with each rereading. In a
sense, Cat Running is a reworking of The Velvet Room,
bringing a more
mature and enlightened perspective to the themes Snyder first
introduced 30 years ago--gone are the melodrama, too-good-to-be-true
wish-fulfillments and, most thankfully, uncomfortably classist
assumptions. Each of the books has its own value, however; I would
like to think Cat Running will not replace the earlier book,
but
become a companion to it. (8-12)
A "teacher's pet" and frequent target for bullies, Lennie Dyer is
pretty lonely until he meets Ralph, who despite his nice clothes and
"posh" accent also likes imaginative games and swapping cigarette
cards. Ralph doesn't seem to care that Lennie is poor and his father
is an unemployed coal-miner, so Lennie tries not to care either,
ignoring the cautions of his family and the obvious disapproval of
Ralph's. But there's a lot about Ralph's life that Lennie doesn't
understand, and when their friendship is put to the test, Ralph may
not be able to meet the challenge.
Written in a direct style, without much subtlety of language or theme,
No Friend of Mine draws an accessible portrait of the stifling
power of class barriers in pre-World War II England, while demonstrating
that what's really important in a friendship is loyalty and strength
of character. The relationship between Lennie and Ralph is
particularly well-drawn, showing that they really do like and care
about each other. Recommended for reluctant readers. (10-14)
Based on the reminiscences of a real little girl, later written down
by her daughter, Bound for Oregon is a stirring story about a
family's adventure-filled trip on the Oregon Trail. Nine-year-old Mary
Ellen Todd and her family leave the poverty of Arkansas dreaming of a
"western paradise," a land so bountiful that people joke "out in
Oregon pigs run around under the acorn trees, round and fat and
already cooked." The lands between, however, are harsh plains and
mountain ranges, where the Todds face sickness, starvation and even
Indian attacks. When Mary Ellen's father is stricken with illness, it
seems as if the family will fall apart without his strong, purposeful
leadership. But in the course of their journey, Mary Ellen has
learned the lesson of surviving, even when filed with fear: "just
doing what had to be done. Facing west and putting one foot in front
of the other. Enduring."
Bound for Oregon draws a vivid picture of these American pioneers,
in an entertaining tale that will keep the details of the history fresh
in readers' minds. Van Leeuwen maintains an authentic atmosphere
well, competently dealing with the historical writer's uneasy balance
between truth and stereotype. Expressive and carefully detailed black
& white illustrations are good companions to the story. (8-12)
Twelve-year-old Hannah hates the Passover Seder at Grandpa Will's.
She hates his strange fits about the tattoo on his arm, and the long
boring speeches, and everything she's expected to remember.
"All Jewish holidays are about remembering," she tells her
mother. "I'm tired of remembering."
Then she goes to open the door for Elijah--and suddenly finds herself
being called Chaya. She has traveled through time and space to
a Jewish village in Nazi-occupied Poland, the only one there who knows
the fate that awaits them. At first Hannah urges people to fight,
but her efforts are useless; her foreknowledge is too little and
arrives too late, and she, along with everyone she has met, winds up
in a concentration camp. There she is befriended by a girl named
Rivka, who teaches her the tricks of survival in a place where every
day of survival is a victory over evil; it is Rivka who tells her,
when she rages against the passivity of the prisoners, that
"it is much harder to live this way and to die this way
than to go out shooting... We are all heroes here."
Reading it with a critical eye, The Devil's Arithmetic seems
awfully heavy on the lessons; practically every line of dialogue starts
to seem like a sound bite of profundity. Nonetheless, it is deeply moving
story of both staggering evil and goodness, and the vital importance of
remembering them. (10 & up)
Suzanne's thirteenth year is a hard one. Her family's home in
Nazi-occupied France has been taken from them, her best friend has
been rendered mute from witnessing horrors and there is little to eat
besides cabbages, potatoes and endless rutabagas. Although she's
relieved to still have her singing lessons, Suzanne
doesn't know how to respond when told to thank God for her blessings:
"What would I say? Thank you God for not making me a Jew. Thank you
for not making me a black person or anyone else that Hitler would
hate. Thank you for not giving the Nazis a reason to make me
disappear. I couldn't imagine God having much patience with such
prayers." So instead she always prays for the same thing: make me
strong.
Suzanne's chance to be truly strong comes when she is fifteen years
old. Now singing in professional shows, she is always on the go... a
perfect cover for someone to give and receive messages for the
French Resistance. Despite her father's constant exhortations to follow
the Nazi rules, Suzanne becomes a spy.
Based on a real person, this is a terse, compelling story of a girl who
decided to do more than just survive and daily
risked her life: not just for her country, not just to save others,
but so she "would never have to look back and admit
that we had not acted against the horrors that swirled around us."
(14 & up)
Focusing less on the history of the doomed Titanic than on fictional
passengers, this is an exciting adventure story that effectively
personalizes the tragedy. Fifteen-year-old Barry O'Neill, on his way
to join his parents in New York, isn't much enjoying his luxurious
first class accommodations on the Titanic: he's lonely for his
grandparents, and justifiably nervous about running into the Flynn
brothers, fellow passengers from his Irish village who have a grudge
against his family. To make things worse, the creepy cabin steward
keeps dropping hints about some danger that threatens him--or is it
the entire ship that's threatened? When Barry inevitably tangles with
the Flynn boys, he also meets their attractive sister, Pegeen, and
starts to see a new side of the troublemaking family. Then the
disaster strikes, and Barry discovers that the impoverished steerage
passengers--including the Flynns--are virtually trapped on the ship.
Somehow he feels he has to save Pegeen--but can he even save himself?
Although it's a bit overburdened with subplots and eerie
foreshadowings, this is a gripping story with lightly drawn but
striking characters. The complex class issues that arise aren't
thoroughly explored, but they do provide an interesting conflict and a
romantic aura which makes Barry's strong feelings for Pegeen
plausible. Barry's interactions with his fellow passengers give the
description of the last hours of the ship a special poignancy, as he
sees his friends and acquaintances face death, in many cases
needlessly. Enjoyable just as an adventure, this is also a stirring
introduction to a fascinating true story, in which human arrogance
received a resounding comeuppance. (12 & up)
Fifteen-year-old Annie, a farmer's daughter, knows well that in
19th-century New England, "daughters never got anything." That's why
she keeps on at school, even though she's the oldest scholar there--so
she can be a schoolteacher someday, able to take care of herself. But
Annie's father is irresistibly attracted to novelties--like an
expensive clock, a worse than useless item on a farm, where things
must be done according to nature's timing. And so Annie is contracted,
against her will, to work at a nearby mill and help pay off his debts.
At the mill, Annie finds herself in an unexpected and intolerable
predicament: the overseer, Mr. Hoggart wants her to "be friendly" to
him and deliberately endangers the life of the boy she likes. When
the situation explodes into tragedy and Annie still cannot get
anyone's support in getting out of the mill contract, she realizes how
helpless she really is. "I'd come to be everybody's toy, for them to
play with as they liked: Pa's toy and Mr. Hoggart's toy . . .They all
had something they wanted from me and they were determined to get what
they wanted. Me, I just didn't come into it, any way I could see."
Annie is determined to run away and not be helpless anymore, but not
before getting even with Hoggart--if she can.
Not just a sobering portrait of what life was like for women in
19th-century America, The Clock also offers a memorable
commentary on
the personal changes brought about by the Industrial Revolution, as
"sun time" gave way to "clock time": "With sun time, the way we
always worked before, and our grandpas and grandmas before us . . .
you could rest a little when you were tired, and take a drink of
something when you were thirsty, or a bite of bread and cheese when
you were hungry. But with clock time you weren't allowed to get tired
or hungry or thirsty on your own; you had to wait until the clock told
you it was time to be thirsty or tired." I doubt if any reader would
want to return to a way of life in which there was so much injustice
and virtually no redress against it, but it's worth thinking about how
things, and the love of things, can drive people's time and their
lives. The Clock, although it tends a little towards
repetition and
rushes disappointingly through its ending, is an intriguing and
valuable book. (12 & up)
The authors of the Newbery Honor book My Brother Sam is Dead
have written another thoughtful and absorbing story about young people
living through wartime, this time with a Civil War setting. Narrated
by fourteen-year-old Johnny, whose father died "for the honor of the
South," it describes his foolish decision to join a wagon train taking
food to the rebels, partly to earn money for his needy family, partly
in revenge for his father and partly because of the sheer excitement
of participating in the war. When the wagon train is captured by a
troop of black Yankee soldiers, Johnny's dreams about Southern honor
are lost in the bitter reality that he may well die and leave his
family destitute. But there is one hope of escape: Johnny's captor,
Private Cush Turner, is a young runaway slave who wants desperately to
learn how to read Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Johnny certainly
doesn't want to "help a darky set himself up as good as a white man"
but he figures he can teach Cush the wrong words while winning his
trust. And what starts as manipulation is unexpectedly changed by the
vicissitudes of war into true friendship, leaving Johnny at the end of
the war finally opening his mind to the words he had refused to "teach
right" to Cush: "All men are created equal."
Although it aptly illustrates the horrors of war--and as an afterword
points out, this was an especially violent and horrific conflict--the
strong point of With Every Drop of Blood is in its depiction of
the growing friendship between the two enemies, rooted in vivid,
believable conversations about Cush's life that challenge everything
Johnny has ever believed about black people and slavery. The
philosophical points in the book aren't expressed with much subtlety,
but the Colliers do a nice job of establishing the basic similarities
between the characters, in one-upmanship dialogues that add a touch of
humor to the sombre story while revealing that both boys are young,
naive and ignorant. The ending is particularly poignant, as Johnny
and Cush try to figure out what their friendship will mean in the new
world created by the war, which may not yet be so different from the
old. (12 & up)
Unless I miss my guess, Catherine, Called Birdy will be a
strong
contender for the next Newbery medal. Despite some first-book flaws,
it is possibly the best historical fiction for children I've ever
read--and highly entertaining, to boot.
Commanded by her brother Edward to write an account of her days, in
the hopes it will help her grow "less childish and more learned,"
fourteen-year-old Catherine begins: "I am bit by fleas and plagued by
family. That is all there is to say." The place is Stonebridge,
Lincolnshire, the year 1290, and Catherine's days are spent in
spinning, preparing the Medieval equivalents of Tums and Alka Seltzer
and trying to avoid marriage to the highest bidder. Despite repeated
admonitions to be contented with her lot, Birdy chafes unbearably for
the freedom of a boy, or even of a village girl, keenly aware of the
hypocrisy and injustice that govern the lives of noble women: "Why
must I learn to walk with a lady's tiny steps one day and sweat over
great steaming kettles of dung and nettle for remedies the next? Why
must the lady of the manor do all the least lovable tasks? I'd rather
be the pig boy."
Still, Birdy does manage to have some fun: talking with Perkin, the
goat boy; ducking out to visit fairs; thinking up new ways to curse
(she variously tries "God's knees," "God's chin,"and finally settles
on "God's thumbs"); and successfully discouraging possible suitors by
blackening her teeth and feigning imbecility. But when a suitor comes
along who will not be discouraged--"an ugly shaggy-bearded hulk" who
seems both cruel and disgusting--the true horror of her lot in life
becomes clear. How on earth can she marry him? How on earth can she
not?
Through the perceptive eyes and pointed commentary of this spirited
and intelligent girl, Catherine, Called Birdy creates a vivid,
thoroughly accessible portrait of life in the Middle Ages. Birdy's
lively combination of sharp wit and earthy humor make the book
uproariously funny and almost hide the fact that it also contains a
great deal of actual information. The flaw in this otherwise superb
book is that it is sometimes too realistic: the plot advances very
slowly, with many short journal entries simply describing details of
daily life. Although these are often amusing in themselves, and no
doubt true-to-life, I found myself impatient for something to happen.
Most of the book manages to maintain both historical accuracy and the
requirements of fiction, but the conflict shows--particularly in the
end, which in trying to satisfy both needs falls decidedly flat.
Nevertheless, I don't think I've ever read another historical work
that gave such a strong feeling for its period, in such an enjoyable
way. "The England of 1290 is a foreign country," writes Cushman in
the author's note. "Medieval people live in a place we can never go,
made up of what they value, how they think, and what they believe is
true and important and possible." Probably so...but this, I think, is
as close as we are likely to get. *
Word-loving Mattie Gokey longs for college and a life as a writer, but
the threads tying her to her home town seem to get stronger every
day. There's the endless battle against poverty on her father's farm.
There's Royal, who has no use for books or conversation, but whose
physical presence haunts her. And there's the sacred promise she made
to her dead mother, to take care of her sisters. Mattie feels as
trapped as an ant in pitch. But when a strange young woman entrusts
Mattie with her love letters, and is later found drowned, Mattie
discovers that some traps--and some promises--have to be broken.
Inspired by true events and actual letters, A Northern Light
brings the beauty of insight and hope to its evocative portrayal of
the often harsh, crude and heartbreaking world of rural poverty in
1906. (13 & up)
The Vietnam war, women's liberation, first love and the arrival in
town of Zachary Beaver, "the fattest boy in the world," make life in a
small town where "nothing ever happens" unexpectedly tumultuous for
Toby and his best friend Cal. Winner of the National Book Award. (12
& up)
In this remarkable look at her own hometown, Haas weaves events from
the past into a story that is vital and resonant today, a
multi-faceted novel touching on relationships between mothers,
daughters and sisters, the roles of women, and the nature of trauma
and psychosomatic illness.
The year is 1884 and the small Vermont town of Westminster West is
being threatened by a mysterious arsonist; three barns have already
burned down. But Sue Gorham has a more immediate problem; she's
fed-up with doing all the hard work while her sister Clare, the
"delicate one," gets rest and attention. Then Sue finds her father's
old diary in the attic and learns some painful truths about her
parents. What starts as a sleepless night for her rapidly
deteriorates into a serious nervous condition under her mother's
anxious care, shifting the balance of power in the family--and once
she's experienced it, Sue finds that she can't bear to give Clare back
the power of being the delicate one. Then the firebug strikes at the
Gorham farm, and Sue and Clare must each make a choice about what is
really important to them.
Based on true events, Westminster West is set during a difficult time
for farm women, one in which they still needed to work extraordinarily
hard, yet were also beginning to be expected to be "ladies"; as an
older woman puts it, "you've got all the work we ever had, and you've
got to keep your hands nice, too!" To Sue, it seems as if "everything
she'd learned about becoming a woman was a form of disguise. Mask
your strength. Lower your voice. Never seem to be angry or
perspire." Perhaps that's why a half-feigned illness so easily
becomes genuine, and so very difficult to give up.
Beautifully organized and thoughtfully characterized, this story
gently leads the reader to some fascinating insights about human
nature. Although Haas admits that this interpretation of Sue and
Clare's story is her own invention, she makes it hard to believe it
could have happened in any other way. * (10 & up)
Salem Village in 1691 is the setting for this young adult historical
novel. Twelve-year-old Mary Chase recounts her experiences of the
growing chaos and insanity of the Salem witch trials. During the
fear-filled days, woman after woman is taken away to be imprisoned for
witchcraft, including Mary's own mother. One of this novel's
strengths is its accurate, detailed description of the witch trials.
Relying on extensive historical research, Lasky uses the actual
language of the Puritan judges and victims, which makes her work even
more chilling.
What helps to set this book apart as a fine example of historical
fiction is the author's attention to showing the very human emotions
that lurk behind the witch trials. Greed, jealousy, and anger all
drive the girls who accuse the witches and the individuals who judge
them. The book shows how everyone gets drawn into the ever-widening
circle of the trials. Because of its historical accuracy and its
excellent depiction of the insanity that sweeps through the Salem
community, this novel deserves to be read by any student interested in
broadening his or her knowledge of one of America's darkest periods.
(12 & up)
After the German army occupied France in World War II, some of the
French resisted and some became collaborators. But as Marcel Delarue
remembers, "many more of the French people, my family among them,
appeared merely to live out the war hoping to squeak through unnoticed
and unharmed." Growing up in a small village in occupied France,
Marcel and his brothers Rene and Pierre are aware of some privations,
but otherwise the war doesn't interfere much with their childhood
pursuits--especially their favorite game of seeing who can lie the
most creatively and plausibly. When Marcel meets a friendly German
soldier, who reminds him a little of his absent father, there doesn't
seem any real harm in spending time with him; he's even proud of
keeping such a big secret, a splendid "extended lie." But things in
his village aren't exactly as Marcel thinks they are, and to his
horror, he learns that his secret friendship could be a dangerous one.
Stories about childhoods lost through war aren't new; what makes The
Good Liar so interesting is that it shows the precise moment in which
a child passes from ignorance to awareness, suddenly forced to
comprehend "too much doom for a child to imagine." Marcel is not
exactly a hero, in the sense that, say, the characters in Lois Lowry's
Number the Stars or Jane Yolen's The Devil's Arithmetic
(see above) are, but in a
way, that makes his story more meaningful; his newfound understanding,
with its accompanying confusion and ambiguities, is a very believable
and sympathetic portrait of what it's like for ordinary kids to face
terrors: "innocent, stupid, trusting, lying, needy, loving kids....
Like you."
Through the simple device of having an adult Marcel write his story at
the request of three contemporary schoolchildren, Maguire easily draws
readers into this book, despite the foreign tone that might otherwise
have made it less accessible. It reads like being told a story by a
favorite uncle: somehow both romantically far away, and very close to
home. * (9 & up)
The first book in Nixon's "Ellis Island" series is an enjoyable light
read about fifteen-year-old Rebekah Levinsky, who immigrates with her
family from Russia to the United SDtates. Both the trip and the
arrival are difficult for the Levinsky's, who discover that their new
life means constant hard work and the loss of many of their treasured
religious traditions. But for Rebejah, it also offers something: the
chance for the education that was denied to poor women in Russia.
Like the friends she met on the boat trip--Kristin Swensen, Rose
Carney and the attractive musician Aaron Mirsch--she is determined
that America will be the place where her dreams come true.
Written in a simple, unsophisticated style, Land of Hope is
essentially a standard YA problem/romance novel, well transplanted to
a historical setting. The details of the period and of Jewish life
are nicely drawn and add interest to the otherwise familiar theme.
(12 & up)
The second book in the "Ellis Island" series
is another undemanding historical
romance, this time focusing on Irish immigrants in Chicago.
Fifteen-year-old Rose Carney comes to America to help earn the money
to bring her mother and sisters over--but her father's drinking and
her brothers' involvement in dangerous political activities make that
goal seem very distant. When her mother dies and her brother Johnny
is arrested for smuggling weapons money into Ireland, things seem
hopeless, until help from Jane Addams' Hull House and the boy Rose
loves save the day. The treatment and characterizations are
simplistic, but the attractive period flavor makes this enjoyable
light reading. (12 & up)
The third book in the "Ellis Island" series about young immigrants
takes sixteen-year-old Kristin Swensen and her family to a Swedish
farming community in Minnesota. Kristin, longing for the freedom of
the New World she's heard so much about, is dismayed to discover that
the community sticks stubbornly to the old ways of Sweden; all of her
attempts to break free from her restrictive woman's role end in
failure or disgrace. Will she ever be able to achieve her dreams of
wearing what she wants, doing as she pleases--and even choosing her
own husband?
Like the first two books, this is an enjoyable light historical
romance, nicely integrating details of Swedish and immigrant culture
with its basic coming-of-age theme. A somewhat uneasy balance between
historical accuracy and catering to modern sensibilities make it
rather less believable than its predecessors, however. (12 & up)
Hilary, a young member of the "Aryan Warriors," a
Neo-Nazi organization, lies in a coma after a motorcycle accident.
Seemingly lifeless, her mind still works furiously, ceaselessly spewing
a torrent of hate for her mother and for Jews, whom she blames for
her father's death. Then she finds her consciousness slipping
away--into the body of a girl called Chana, a Jewish girl who lived
during the Holocaust, 50 years before. At first Hilary thinks her
visions are a meaningless dream and refuses to accept their
significance, but they keep coming. Inside Chana, Hilary experiences
the fear, pain, loss and despair of the Jews in the Nazi ghettos and
concentrations camps, becoming one with her in her suffering until she
can no longer tell where Chana's life ends and hers begins.
the inherent power of this story is somewhat marred by an ambitious
narrative style that isn't completely successful. Hilary's torments
inner voice, half watered-down expletives and half confused
flashbacks, does not give a convincing explanation of her
anti-semitism. Chana's narrative works better, especially as it
becomes the focal point of the novel: the recreation of the physical
and emotional horrors of the Holocaust is vivid and soul-wrenching.
(At one point, Chana realizes that the smell of Auschwitz is that of
"human flesh, human hair and bones burning. I was drenched in it,
choking with it, but I knew that in order for me to live, I had to
breath, I had to inhale this residue of someone else's life.")
Chana's story, describing in bitter detail her efforts to keep both
her body and spirits alive, builds in power until finally the war is
over and she has survived--in part, as her intuitive grandmother tells
her, because Hilary's spirit was with her. "She was the brave Chana,
the strong Chana, the Chana who could cry and mourn so many deaths, so
much destruction, so that you wouldn't have to... Your
shvester, your other self, kept your soul alive. In a deeply
moving ending, the separate spirits of the two girls talk to each
other for the first time--only now Chana is the old woman she is in
Hilary's time, another patient in the hospital. By sharing her
experiences with Hilary she has saved her life, just as Hilary's
spiritual presence saved hers in the past. And now, she tells
Hilary, it is her turn to share what she knows with others, to be a
witness: "I reached out to you. I touched you. I screamed, and you
heard. In hearing me, in understanding me, you have given my past new
meaning. It will change to meaning of your past as well, and someday
your life as an angry child who has turned her hate to love will
change still another life." (12 & up)
In a short but utterly compelling narrative, Sarny, a twelve-year-old
plantation slave, tells the story of how she was given a precious and
dangerous gift: the ability to read and write. Sarny's teacher is
John, a slave who has done the unthinkable at least twice--once in
escaping slavery, once in returning. For in spite of the brutal
punishments given to any slave who dares to learn letters or counting,
John is determined to pass on his knowledge to other slaves, to bring
them "the way to know."
Supposedly a true story (unfortunately no references are given),
Nightjohn is a masterful work which manages to be both realistic and
uplifting, showing the courage and intelligence with which slaves
faced their appalling situation. The story pulls no punches in
describing the horrors inflicted on the slaves: not only torturous
physical punishments, but an entire way of life designed to make them
feel like animals. And so we see why Nightjohn risked his freedom and
his life: although he couldn't save the slaves, he could give them a
voice to document their histories and a knowledge to help sustain them
throughout their hard lives. Written with striking images and
powerful turns of phrase, Nightjohn is mesmerizing, impossible to
put down or to forget. *
By keeping quiet and inconspicuous, and saying "Heil Hitler" when he
had to, seventeen-year-old Egon Katz managed to live safely though
most of 1938. Then one small moment of misjudgement brought him, a
Jewish boy, to the attention of the Gestapo, and Egon knew that
escaping Germany was the only way to survive. But in a world where
everyone seemed to be obedient to the Party, where could he go--and
who could he trust? Based on true events, this is a terse, gripping
story of survival that offers a sharply focused, intimate portrait of
one person's experience during the Holocaust. The narrative is short
and spare, but has enough vivid detail to bring Egon's story to life,
showing how his will and determination helped him to get through the
terrors and indignities of life on the run. (12 & up)
Using a framing device in which a woman in a concentration camp tells
stories to her fellow prisoners, this unusual collection retells
stories from Jewish folklore and history, giving them all a Holocaust
setting. Although the style is occasionly a bit maudlin, some of the
book is extremely powerful and moving. (10 & up)
Like the tree that grows in Brooklyn, milkweed is a tenacious plant,
the only hint of green managing to survive in the desert of the Warsaw
Ghetto. The narrator of this story is also tenacious, even as he is
buffeted by forces beyond his control, like a milkweed pod blown about
by the wind. His first memory is of running; the only name he knows
for himself is Stopthief. When he's adopted by another homeless
orphan named Uri, his first name and background are bestowed up him:
Misha Pilsudski, a Gypsy boy who once had seven brothers and five
sisters.
For a time, Misha lives a comfortable underground life, thieving with
Uri and a group of other boys, always sharing some of what he steals
with the local orphanage. Then he befriends a girl named Janina
Milgrom, a girl who lives in a nice home and wears beautiful shiny
shoes... for a while. Janina and her family are marched to the Ghetto
shortly before Misha himself is forced there--Uri, with red hair and a
genuis for conformity, manages to escape--and when Misha, a skilled
smuggler, supports them with stolen food he becomes part of their
family and gains another identity: a Jewish boy named Misha Milgrom.
Even when Uri reappears with a message--"Do not be here when
the trains come... Run. Don't stop running"; even when Janina's father
begs them both to run away from the Ghetto--Misha clings to his new
family and the life they know. But he can't control the forces that
will once again blow them like the wind.
Even aside from the ugliness it depicts, Milkweed is a
challenging story. Although occasionally the narrator steps outside
of the events to comment as an adult, most of it is told in the voice
of the uncomprehending, gullible boy he was, who is reliving pieces of
story barely understood, sometimes barely understandable. But it well
repays the reader who commits to it, and comes away with a new sense
of what it means to live through such times. I was left in tears by
the book's end, in which the adult Misha embraces the final pieces of
his identity. (14 & up)
Fearful of being mistreated, and of the danger of dying in childbirth,
thirteen-year-old Elenor wakes up every day hoping that her promised
husband Thomas will never come back from the crusades. For his part,
the battle-weary Thomas returns home far too disillusioned about the
so-called glories of war to want to think about marriage. Wishing to
help them both, and disturbed by the unrest the return of the
Crusaders has caused among his people, their priest, Father Gregory,
has an idea: Thomas and Elenor, travelng as "chaste companions,"
will make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint James in Spain as
penance for the sins of their entire community. This spiritual act
will help to bring the community back together--and also buy a little
time for Thomas to heal, and Elenor to grow up.
As Elenor and Thomas travel, they find a world of new friends,
learning from them their stories and songs and discovering new ideas
and ways of living. "Pilgrimage is painful," Father Gregory had told
them. "Painful and hard. How else could it pay for our sins?" But
amid the hardships are emotional and spiritual rewards that bring the
unlikely couple unexpectedly close to each other--and to their own
true selves.
Exquisitely beautiful in a way that owes more to sheer emotional
resonance than to overtly elegant writing, The Ramsay Scallop
is a rich, enthralling, heartfelt portrait of life in the Middle Ages.
Its greatest triumph is that it creates that emotional resonance even
while expressing, without compromise, the very different values of the
time. Much of the story is about beliefs--learning them and
questioning them; this astutely chosen structure opens a window onto
that world for modern readers, who may not fully understand why the
characters feel, act and believe as they do, but can't help but
respond to their sincerity and conviction. * (12 & up)
Back to the Notes from the Windowsill
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Cat Running by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. Delacorte, 1994
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No Friend of Mine by Ann Turnbull. Candlewick, 1995 (1-56402-565-9)
OP
Bound for Oregon by Jean Van Leeuwen. Illustrated by James Watling.
Dial, 1994 (0-8037-1526-9) $14.99; Puffin, 1996 (0-14-038319-0) $4.99
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The Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen. Viking, 1988
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Young Adult Books
For Freedom by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley. Delacorte, 2003;
Laurel-leaf, 2005 (0-440-41831-3) $5.50 pb
SOS Titanic by Eve Bunting. Harcourt Brace, 1996
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The Clock by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier.
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With Every Drop of Blood by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher
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Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman. Clarion, 1994
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When Zachary Beaver Came to Town by Kimberly Willis Holt.
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Westminster West by Jessie Haas. Greenwillow, 1997
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Beyond the Burning Time by Kathryn Lasky. Blue Sky/Scholastic, 1994
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The Good Liar by Gregory Maguire. Clarion, 1999 (0-395-90697-0)
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Land of Hope by Joan Lowery Nixon. Laurel-leaf, 1993
(0-440-21597-8) $3.50 pb
Land of Promise by Joan Lowery Nixon. Laurel-leaf, 1994
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Land of Dreams by Joan Lowery Nixon. Delacorte, 1994;
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If I Should Die Before I Wake by Han Nolan. Harcourt, Brace, 1994
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Nightjohn by Gary Paulsen. Delacorte, 1993; Laurel-Leaf, 1995
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To Cross a Line by Karen Ray. Orchard, 1994; Puffin, 1995
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Mara's Stories by Gary Schmidt. Henry Holt, 2001
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Milkweed by Jerry Spinelli. Knopf, 2003; Laurel-Leaf, 2005
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The Ramsay Scallop by Frances Temple. Orchard, 1994; HarperTrophy,
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