Trapped in a masquerade of normalcy, Anke struggles to figure out her role in her dysfunctional family.  She lives in fear of her father's rage, yet longs for his love and attention.  Her brother Darren is physically abused, her sister Yaicha is sexually abused, and her mother lives in denial, while Anke feels like furniture: present, unnoticed, non-living.  Only when she defies her father to join the school volleyball team does Anke find her own strength, her own voice, and the power to stand up for what is right even at high personal cost.

On one hand, Thalia Chaltas's explosive debut novel explores the dark reality of living with abuse as a witness, and the complex psychological drama endured by a family trapped in a cycle of violence.  On the other hand, the book delicately balances the trauma at home with Anke's relatively normal school life -- an accurate depiction of a fifteen year old's confusion about boys, wry observations about high school, and fixation on appearances.  Chaltas weaves images of Anke's love of nature and its beauty throughout the novel, a counterpoint to the unnatural behavior of her father.

Written in well-crafted poems, the novel's structure gives the reader breathing space to deal with the devastation Anke experiences, and the volatility of her emotions.  Provacative, intense, and empowering, this unflinching and brave book will resonate deeply with readers and shine a light of hope to those who long to make their voices heard.  To learn more about the author, visit her Web site.



Update:  Thalia Chaltas received a starred review in Publisher's Weekly!  Her novel is due out in April.

Part non-fiction cat story, part autobiography, and part reflection on life in rural Iowa, this NY Times Best-Seller has at its heart an abandoned kitten who changed the lives of at least one librarian and in essence, an entire town.

When the kitten was discovered -- shoved into the book drop in the middle of a 15 degree winter night -- no one knew the cat would go on to become a celebrity.  The librarian who wrote the book (with the help of a ghost writer) always stresses that the cat's own personality was what made him unique and the transformation of the town and its inhabitants possible.  By the end of his very long live, Dewey was known around the world -- the most famous library cat ever.

By balancing humor, pathos, affection for the beloved-but-spoiled Dewey, and practical Iowa sensibility, the authors manage to create a thoughtful hybrid book that manages to both entertain and teach, without going overboard in any direction.  A must-read for those who love libraries, and those who love cats too!

Writers and editors often talk about the importance of the first sentence and the first page.  If a story doesn't hook a reader from that first page, you're sunk -- kids especially will not waste their time on a book that doesn't hold their interest.  Thus it was with great interest I was hooked by opening page of Kathryn Fitzmaurice's debut novel, The Year the Swallows Came Early.  I am unapologetically a California native.  I've lived there twice, once as a child and once as an adult, for a total of about 16 years -- they longest I've lived anywhere.  So when the opening page refers to both the Pacific Ocean and See's candy . . . I won't stop reading.  However, it's the character's voice, so honest and real, that truly grabbed me, and her observations that something (in this case, a house) can look perfect from the outside, but inside, there is a different story.

And that's the story of eleven year old Eleanor "Groovy" Robinson, who experiences a lot of growing up in spite of herself, and teaches some of her friends and family members important lessons as she learns them.  The basic plot: Groovy is a foodie, loves to cook, and prides herself on knowing the perfect meal for every emotion and occasion.  Her quirky mother -- a beautician -- checks her horoscope to know how to plan her day.  At the outset, Groovy's dad -- the person she feels most connected to, who knows the real Groovy -- is arrested while the two of them are walking to town.  The first worst part of it is finding out her mother called the cops.  The second worst part is finding out it's because Groovy's dad gambled away her inheritance, the money she was going to use to go to culinary school when she got older.  Subplots involving both peers and adults explore various aspects of relationships and forgiveness.  Throughout the story, the motif of the swallows returning symbolizes stability, something all of the book's characters crave but seems just out of reach.

A book full of realistically drawn characters coupled with prose that reads like poetry, The Year the Swallows Came Early introduces Kathryn Maurice as an exciting & talented new voice in the world of children's books.  Her Web site has video at the mission in San Juan Capistrano where the swallows return each year, as well as discussion questions and information about the author.  You can also read about her in a newspaper article online.

Thirteenth birthdays in the Beaumont family are a big deal, though not for any of the usual reasons.  When they turn thirteen, each Beaumont receives his or her savvy -- a special power they have to learn to "scumble" or harness and control.  The patriarch of the clan, Grandpa Bomba, can literally move mountains and earth to create new land.  Seventeen-year-old Rocket creates electricity (or causes blackouts), Fish makes storms, and the story's heroine, Mississippi (called Mibs) wakes up on her birthday waiting to figure out what her savvy will be.  With her father in the hospital in a coma after a car accident and her mother (whose skill is doing everything perfectly, even making perfect mistakes) by his side, the Beaumont kids are left to the mercies of the well-intended Miss Rosemary, the pastor's wife.

Determined to help her family, Mibs decides to hide on-board a pink Bible-delivery bus, and when she's joined by her siblings and Miss Rosemary's teenaged kids, they are off on an adventure that will put them in the paths of colorful characters, from the hapless Lester to the big-hearted Lill.  Reminiscent of Steinbeck's The Wayward Bus, this brilliant and bittersweet first novel tugs on the heartstrings while bringing a smile to your face.  Fun, magical, and well-crafted, Ingrid Law's Savvy is a quick and satisfying read that will have you wondering what your savvy would be if you could choose. 

To write a heartbreakingly gorgeous novel and not live to see it become a beloved bestseller is perhaps one of the greatest ironies I can imagine, as a writer.  Mary Ann Shaffer, the author of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, spent years researching and writing this word-perfect, poetic, and insightful epistolary novel, only to have to turn it over to her niece due to failing health.  While her illness may seem to some irrelevant to the novel itself, the author’s delicate handling of death and the bitter ironies of war take on a new resonance in light of her personal tragedy and battle.

 

To me, it is exactly her superb balance of darkness and light that make the joys and sorrows of the story that much more keenly felt by the reader.  I wept.  I laughed aloud.  I wanted to go to Guernsey and walk its cliffs, see its wildflowers, find the types of people upon whom she based her characters.  For it is through their eyes and experiences I saw a unique and never-before-heard part of World War II, and it pained me, as stories of that period of history always do, and I hope always will for myself and others.  The inhumanities of mankind took on faces of friends, children, brothers, sisters, and it is only the callused heart that could fail to be moved by their fate.

 

What, then, is this book that has me so distraught and elated in nearly equal parts?  It’s the tale of a writer who lives in post-war London, and who receives a letter from one Dawsey Adams, of Guernsey.  He is in possession of a book that once belonged to her, and as there are not bookshops left on the island, inquires if she will help him find other writings by Charles Lamb.  Thus begins a great correspondence with members of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, ostensibly as research for an article she is writing, but their exchange of letters soon takes on a life of its own.  Inevitably, Juliet must go to Guernsey to meet her new friends, and it is there she begins uncovering stories of the German Occupation, and of heroes great and small.

 

Shaffer and Annie Barrows (a well-published author in her own right) deftly weave into the narrative historical facts and what feel like true recollections of Islanders, bringing to light details of compassion, tragedy, and triumph that are often lost to the militaristic lists of battle dates so often considered the recording of history.

 

If I were wealthy, I’d buy copies for all of my friends so they could read it *immediately.*  In lieu of that, I beg you, go to your local library and request it; buy it; or, if you are interested in a Book-Crossing copy, email me and I’ll get you on the list.  The copy I read was generously provided by my friend from Cardiff, Wales, Mike Wiggett.  It's going next to a BookCrosser in New Hampshire, but I am unaware of a destination after that.

 

In this spare and beautifully-written novel in poems, Kelly Bingham captures the agony of loss and the triumph of the human spirit.  The book opens with Jane Arrowood, a southern California teen, in the UCLA Hospital following a shark attack that left her in a coma, and required the amputation of her right arm above the elbow.  Details of the attack emerge through flashbacks, interjected newspaper articles, and conversations with her family.  As Jane begins the two-steps-forward, one-step-back dance of recovery, readers walk with her, feeling her pain as she realizes her relationships are all changed, and her dream of being a professional artist is over.  Bingham prevents the novel from slipping into a morass of despair by introducing some bright spots into Jane's life: Justin, a young fellow amputee in the hospital; Mel, a kind therapist; and Max, the hottest guy in school, who shows Jane kindness.

One stroke of brilliance that impressed me was the author's effective use of letters from strangers as a way of revealing Jane's progress, anger, and turmoil.  The letters run the gamut of well-intended strangers to clueless kids doing school reports, but most of the letters are from people who have survived the loss of limbs and offer their experience and hope.  They all seem to understand their cliched words of comfort may not help at the moment, but they all try to share their methods of coping with their physical challenges, and in the end, Jane is able to experience their truths for herself.

If you've never read a novel that is told through a series of poems, this is a great introduction to this style of writing.  While typically lauded for their appeal to "reluctant readers" due to the large amount of white space on the page, novels in poems seem to me to be a distillation of a traditional novel -- all of the emotion, drama, and impact of prose condensed into a series of poems.  Shark Girl is haunting and real. 

As an aside, there may be some curiosity about this book's relationship to Bethany Hamilton, the girl in Hawaii who survived a shark attack while surfing.  Here is a link to an interview with Kelly Bingham that details her writing process.

Hildy Biddle is a teen with a nose for the truth, and there is a rotten apple in Banesville, New York, a place known for its apple orchards, small town values, and . . . local ghost.  When rumors surface that the old Ludlow place is haunted, a chain reaction of events begins, ranging from a mysterious fortune teller who predicts catastrophe and senses evil spirits congregating in the town to a series of unexplainable signs warning of evil yet to come.

As a reporter for the high school newspaper, Hildy starts to investigate who is behind the fear mongering.  Will she be brave and tenacious enough to expose the truth?  And can she convince everyone in time?

What I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE about Joan Bauer is that while her stories seem simple and straightforward, they are as finely layered as puff pastry.  She takes broad concepts such as the power of the press, eminent domain, the revolution in Poland, and the power of the underdog, and creates a deliciously complex yet personal story that demonstrates the significance of one individual, and what can happen when people join together to fight for what is right.  I'm partial to her previous novels as well, especially Squashed and the Newbery Honor book Hope Was Here.  There is tension and conflict without going overboard (I don't end up with nightmares!), and there's always a wonderful love interest for the protagonist (hurray!).  Joan Bauer creates heroines I can relate to and cheer for, and I really appreciate that.

Julie Larsen, this book is for you!  You will love it!

Recently, my friend Anne Bustard recommended this book, not only because it's well-written and an excellent story, but because she recently had lunch with the author, Shana Burg, a fellow Austinite, and they had a swell time.

As the story is set in Mississippi, I figured it would be in our library system.  Wrong.  When the Caledonia librarian ordered a copy through interlibrary loan, the book came from the Virginia Beach Public Library.  Unbelievable.  After reading Addie Ann's emotional journey as a twelve-year-old witness to the horrors of discrimination, I feel like writing to every MS congressperson and insisting they purchase a copy for every public and school library in the state.  A Thousand Never Evers takes place in 1963 in the Delta, and is both beautifully written and educational.  Younger readers will learn a lot about the civil rights movement, its key players, and major events, but always through the experiences of the protagonist and her family.  The key plot points involve her brother Elias and his disappearance after protecting Addie Ann from white bullies, and a community garden that was left to both the black and white communities, a fact which is denied by the bigoted white sheriff, so the black community is shut out.  Author Shana Burg maintains the perfect amount of tension throughout the story, but thanks to her character's innate optimism, the story never sinks into despair.

One of the best historical novels I've read in a long time,  I hope this evocative story gets some good press and publicity, and award consideration.  You can read the first chapter of the novel here.

Lately, the question of audience has been on my mind.  As in "what is the audience for this particular book?"  It seems that several books I've picked up lately are murky on that topic.

For example, Peter Sis has a critically-lauded picture book out, titled The Wall.  It's about his life growing up in Prague during the Cold War, the suppression of creative ideas, the inescapable control of communism, and the struggle he endured.  The book is very large, the illustrations (he wrote and illustrated) are detailed but are mostly small, with many to the page, and the story is rather dark, after all, we're dealing with oppression.  He refers to concepts, events, and pop culture icons that today's kids won't know, and I hate to admit there were some that I didn't even know about.  Thus, who was this book written for?  Do elementary grades study the Cold War nowadays?  Or is this a book written for the adults in the publishing world?  I don't know.

Another book that has some people asking "who is the audience?" is Kathi Appelt's The Underneath.  Described as "really freaky deaky weird" but still garnering praise from Empress of the Librarians E.R. Bird on her Amazon review, the book is one that people either love or hate.  I'm afraid to read it, and my stepdaughter Sarah started it, but says she is having a hard time getting into it.  (She tossed it aside once Twilight finally entered our house.)

Then there are the books I've recently reviewed.  One is the winner of Norway's picture book of the year is and may be the worse picture book I've ever seen, so condescending and trite I feel the author has never interacted with real children.  Another, a young adult novel, tried to include every single Big Issue in the genre: bullying, school violence (i.e. pipe bombs), homosexuality, homophobia, drug use, truancy, dating woes, racism, white privilege, mental issues (in this case depression), domestic violence, and biracial characters.  I think teen pregnancy was literally the only thing left out of the story. 

This all leaves me wondering: who were the authors thinking of when they wrote these books?  And, is anyone else out there having this kind of difficulty with the books you are reading?

Zoe Elias dreams of playing Carnegie Hall, of being a famous concert pianist (though her fantasies are more about the glamor than the music), and of the adulation of the crowds.  Unfortunately, rather than the piano she asks for, Zoe gets an organ.  A Perfectone D-60, to be specific.  How could something so simple go so wrong?  Her father is agoraphobic and when stressed, makes bizarre -- an usually expensive -- mistakes. 

Rather than whining about her father's error, moping about how she doesn't fit in with the "Brat Pack" at her school, or refusing to touch the organ, Zoe begins to play, and the novel bubbles along with all of the youthful optimism possible in the face of such a serious issue as incapacitating mental illness.  A delightful cast of characters, Mr. Elias's persistence in learning through the Living Room University courses he orders, and the pitch-perfect supporting character of Wheeler Diggs make this middle grade novel one of the best I've read in ages.  Short chapters keep the pace moving, and empathy for the determined and realistically-drawn Zoe made this book hard to put down.  Linda Urban manages to tie up all of the story's threads without making the ending feel contrived.  A Crooked Kind of Perfect is about potential, hope, and perseverance, and who doesn't need a dose of that every once in a while?

Happy Reading!