summer 'beries

We are off to the library where I will inevitably pick up some fresh Newberies (I took a break for a month or so, but I'm ready to jump back in.) So, in the mean time, some reviews:

Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse (1998)

A gut-wrenching story of 14-year-old Billy Jo growing up in the middle of the Oklahoma dust bowl. As if that weren't hard enough, Billy Jo, her mother, and unborn brother suffer through a terrible, maiming, guilt-riddled accident that permanently alters the course of our heroine's life. Told through a series of free verse poetry, the book never dips into sentimentality, but simply and elegantly crafts the standard tale of hope triumphing when it seems that all hope is lost. But this time there is nothing standard about it. I would love to read more by this author.

A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park (2002)


The first Newberry winner about Korea! Woot woot! Sadly, not a super awesome one but still pretty solid. Just like a kimchified version of Young Fu of the Upper Yangtze but not quite as funny, despite it's more recent publication date. A young orphan becomes an apprentice to a grumpy vase maker and hopes to one day get the chance to design his own masterpiece. Kind of bugged that the author used names like "Crane Man" and "Tree Ear" for her characters instead of their traditional Korean names. Smacks of orientalism, which is weird since the author is herself Korean. We do have one of her picture books, however - Bee-Bim Bop! - and it rules the school.

Criss Cross by Lynn Rae Perkins (2006)


I had a love/hate relationship with this book. I loved the characters - they were quirky and funny and were an achingly sweet reminder of early adoloscence. I loved the dreamy, contemplative tone of the book - it really seemed to capture the essence of the self-absorbed, universe-expanding ruminations of a thirteen-year-old. Now that I think about it, I really did like this book quite a bit so maybe "hate" is a strong word to voice my objections. I just really have a thing about gimmicky literary techniques and this book is FULL of them. A whole chapter written in haiku, another written in a question-answer format; cutsie little hand-drawn illustrations scrawled in the margins. Seemed a little try-hard and little late to the post-modern party. But now that I think about it, this is exactly the kind of thing a tweenie reader would get a kick out of. And while it is geared toward an older audience - the main characters are 14 - it is honest, thought-provoking, and beautifully written. With the wealth of trashy tween books out there that hightlight cliques and crushes and vampires, Criss Cross stands out as an example of what these kids could be reading instead.




Summer of the Swans by Betsy Byars (1971)

I don't particularly care for this brand of 70s book. Seriously, did you see the cover? Don't these kinds of books give you the creeps like they do me? Maybe it's just because I have such a Pavlovian response to The Bridge to Terabithia, and this book is cut from the same cloth. I just hate the descriptions of the hair, the clothes, the sneakers, the cars, the TV shows... I can almost see it with the same grainy sepia quality that all movies from the 70s are steeped in. This book just felt like a made-for-TV movie or after school special. Teen Sara is the middle child between a gorgeous older sister (of course) and a mentally handicapped younger brother (okay, I didn't see that one coming, but I applaud Byars' taking it to the next level!) She hates her gawky body (no!), doesn't know how to talk to boys (suprise!), she resents her parents' divorce (shocker), and lives with her surly aunt? grandma? Whatever. The book covers one day in Sara's life - a day that her little brother wanders off to find the swans nesting on the lake for the summer and doesn't return. By the end of the book, the brother is found and Sara learns to care about someone other than herself. The book ends as she departs for a party at a boy's house. Mission accomplished!




Smoky, the Cowhorse by Will James (1927)

While the title of the book provided plenty of laughs, the book itself did not so much. At first, I was astonished at how boring it was. And then I was astonished at how depressing it was. Though the book does gain some significant street cred when you learn that Will James was an actual real-life cowboy in his youth. And then it loses some when you learn that his real name is Earnest DuFault and that he is Canadian. Oh well. Easy come, easy go!