unadulterated.us

Let's do nothing! by Tony Fucile - review

Let's do nothing! by Tony Fucile

Frankie and Sal have done everything there is to do. Baked cookies, read comics, played every sport ever invented. The one thing they haven't done is... nothing. So they try it. Unprompted by any adult, I might add - and how many times have adults clutched their heads in frustration and pleaded, "Just sit still for TEN MINUTES!? Oh please?"

Well, Frankie and Sal demonstrate the impossibility of such an exercise. Pretending to be statues, Frankie is beset by pigeons. Pretending to be the Empire State Building, a giant ape steals his glasses. Pretending to be a redwood, he is visited by a friendly dog. It just can't be done. Even when his body is motionless, Frankie's imagination is still motoring along. Love that kid. Frankie and Sal may be my favorite pair of boys since Righty & Lefty, or Trouble Gum.

But as I savored the extremely natural, cartoony-sketchy boys, with their Dennis-the-Menace-y outfits and messy hair, I wondered why the wild and crafty eyes of Sal, the mastermind of the pair, looked so familiar. Hmmm.

That's right. Tony Fucile has spent most of his professional life as an animator, notably, on the greatest animated family movie of all time (YES I SAID IT), The Incredibles. This book, his first standalone picture book, has all the wit and energy of that movie, encased in a small-scale story that kids and parents will recognize and enjoy.

A Book by Mordicai Gerstein! - review

A Book by Mordicai Gerstein!

Check this cover. You know what this cover says to me, with its large generic title on a plain blue ground, with little storybook characters running pell-mell across it? It says, "NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" It says we are leaving flatland, we are entering meta territory, we are going to be bombarded with slapstick and in-jokes and Mordicai Gerstein had just WAAAY too much fun making this book. Dude, it's like MAD Magazine up in there. Kids are gonna love it.

Chaver Gerstein starts the book by introducing the reader to the family that lives in the book: a mom, a dad, two kids and some pets. He explains that when the book is closed, it is night, and the family sleeps. But when we open the book to read it, the family wakes up, yawns, stretches, eats breakfast, and then each person goes off to live his or her story. Dad's a circus clown, Mom's a firefighter, Brother grows up to be an astronaut, and even the pets have plans for the day. But sister has no story, and goes off to look for one.

Spectacularly, all the illustrations are drawn from the reader's perspective - that is, we are looking down on the family around the breakfast table, which exists in a featureless ivory space, lit from a source somewhere over the reader's right shoulder. As if we are sitting at a drawing table. This effect is unbelievably cool when Mother Goose, whom the little girl has run into on her search for a story, explains the existence of Readers. "Look up," she says, and the kid's face turns up toward us with an expression of alarm. It's a terrific little mirror moment, and reminds the reader that he or she is a participant in the story, too.

The little girl samples all kinds of stories - fairy tales, mysteries, historical fiction ("too much work," she decides, and I agree), etc. before announcing to her family that her story is that of a "young girl who doesn't know what her story is, and so she writes her own story."

You can get pretty deep with this - the story is the search, and she creates her story by taking control of it... or rather, she takes control of her story by creating it. Mumblety humblety give it to the reading specialist at your school and she will sniffle at its power. But the rest of us will be giggling at the silly pirates and ducking as the comet goes whizzing by.

The detail and the color palette made me think of The Yellow Balloon. The action is as loose-limbed as Steve Kellogg. But the concept and perspective are pure Mordicai Gerstein. Highly recommended.

The Case of the Case of Mistaken Identity by Mac Barnett, with illustrations by Adam Rex - review

The Case of the Case of Mistaken Identity by Mac Barnett, with illustrations by Adam Rex

I read a lot of funny middle-grade boy books. I, in fact, have something of a subspecialty in "If you liked Diary of a Wimpy Kid." SIGH. *I* didn't even like Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Although the author sent me a really nice email thanking me for my extremely ambivalent review. Jeff Kinney = classy guy. No matter what you think of Greg Heffley.

So I end up using the words "goofy," "silly," "cute," and, when I'm feeling not-so-inspired, "funny," in my reviews kind of a lot. Every now and then I have a chance to bust out "witty." Not that often. Binky the Space Cat got a "witty" from me, for its winking and generous portrayal of Binky, an overweight housecat training to be an astronaut. The True Meaning of Smekday I called witty. Derek Landy's Skulduggery Pleasant (which probably also got an "urbane"). And - not coincidentally - these are three of my hands-down favorite middle-grade books EVAR.

Joined now by this first book in what I hope will be a long long long (think Hardy Boys, Barnett - hope you're not doing anything for the next ten or twelve years) series of detective novels starring preteen everyman Steve Brixton and his honorary brother and actual best friend, Dana.

WITTY. This book. Wit to the Tee. There is a prom limo. There is a thug who is "nasty, brutish," and (you guessed it) "short." Mac Barnett even takes a swipe at the ALA's READ posters - truly, truly a man after my own fuggin' heart.

Our protagonist, Steve, a naturally bright kid to begin with, has been thoroughly schooled in the habits and techniques of solving mysteries by his heroes, Shawn and Kevin Bailey, cleancut, midcentury all-American boys who are not only ace teen sleuths but also varsity athletes! The Bailey Brothers' tips (haymaker punches, complicated knots, How To Spot a Scoundrel (hint: they limp)) come in handy when Steve tries to check out an old library book and is suddenly surrounded by a SWAT team of secret library agents!

Except - not only are Shawn and Kevin fictional, they're also conspicuously Golden Age. In the few instances when their advice isn't actually dangerous (Have to jump out of a second-story window? Roll when you hit the ground! Need a hiding place? Behind an airplane propellor is a good spot!), it's ludicrously old-fashioned.

Nice disguise, huh? Luckily, Steve is resourceful and knowledgeable and persistent - and heals fast - plus, all his experience reading detective novels has sharpened his deductive reasoning to a fine point.

The chapters are short, the funny is abundant, and the clues are all there. I'll bet my mom (an inveterate mystery reader) would have figured it out. But neither I nor my 8-year-old did. Listen: I kept reading this book even after the kids were in bed, my husband was out watching the Browns get creamed again (sorry honey) and I had those horny Southern vampires all cued up on the DVD player. I totally needed to see how it ended.

Oh wait - did I forget to mention Adam Rex's illustrations? Again? Adam Rex is brilliant. (I can't wait to read the forthcoming Fat Vampire - Laura, where's my copy?) Adam Rex's illustrations push this thing over the edge - from well-written serial fiction, exceptional grist for the mill of the middle-grade reader's imagination - to something that you could absolutely give as a gift. The cover and spine are exciting and packed full of things to look at, while echoing the format of older hardcover series fiction.

What I need now is MORE.

The Scariest Monster in the World by Lee Weatherly & Algy Craig Hall - review

The Scariest Monster in the World by Lee Weatherly & Algy Craig Hall

The scariest monster in the world? Not that scary, when he gets the hiccups! After a lifetime intimidating all the little critters in the forest, those same critters take pity on the monster when his hiccups make him cry. Eventually his own reflection serves to cure his hiccups, and he is so appalled by it that he cleans up his act and decides to act nice.

It's dear, it really is, with nice clear writing, but it's certainly not an unfamiliar story, and I don't know if I'd have reviewed it if it weren't for Algy Craig Hall's extraordinarily fluid, expressive graphite stick and watercolor art. Guy's got a nice line, renders motion beautifully, and captures a wide variety of goofy monster expressions. His work makes me think he's got a future in animation, and not so much as a financial journalist, which is apparently what he does in his off time.

Diary of a Chav, a novel by Grace Dent - review

Diary of a Chav, (aka Diva Without a Cause), by Grace Dent

Shiraz Bailey Wood is a wannabe ghetto fabulous fifteen year old in Essex. That's Essex, near London, not Essex, near Baltimore, although they are weirdly similar. OUR Essex is a blue-collar community with a reputation for teen pregnancy, lottery addiction, and recreational drug use. It also smells like poo, due to the proximity of the county's sewage treatment plant. (That's according to my colleague TinkerCinderBellaHontas, who grew up there, so don't email me.)

Shiraz's Essex is pretty similar. Her mom, who works at Essex's version of the OTB, cooks nothing that is not processed. Her family watches reality TV to the exclusion of anything else. Her favorite outfit is her pink tracksuit, accessorized with her biggest gold hoops.

And Shiraz speaks in this incessant drawly slang - half Cockney, half what is euphemistically called "urban". It's hilarious, it really is. For a school assignment, she has to write a letter of complaint.

"I have just spent two weeks of sheer unmitigated hell in a half-finished hotel, what was advertised as 'the most stunning jewel in the crown of this fabulous island.' Well if this is your most stunning jewel mate, you ain't got much bling bruv, 'cos this place was a right state and you are a proper liberty sending anyone there."

The whole book kind of reads like a stand-up comedy character gone long-form. Which we've seen - Jeff Foxworthy has a whole slew of "redneck" books. Belzer has written a few novels, pretty much AS Detective John Munch. I used to entertain people with my excellent South Baltimore accent at parties ("Aoh yeah hon, all's zere wen 'at sugar plant sploded - it was sew laut ah fought we's unner attack bah da British again!"*), and I will bet you real money that Grace Dent has been doing her Shiraz impersonation for years. She loves this girl, like you love a trashy cousin who doesn't yet realize there's more to life than chain restaurants, reality TV, and the mall; and in the course of Shizza's year, Dent begins to gently (and not so gently - the mashed rat in the bhaji is pretty rude!) remove her pavé-rhinestone blinkers.

It's so funny, and in the end, it's big-hearted and lovely. The slang will be an impediment for some readers, but there's an equally funny glossary in the back. For example: about the incomprehensible British TV series Last of the Summer Wine, Shiraz says "This is the most boring 'comedy' in the universe... despite never being funny, it is on every week and always has been and always will be until the end of time due to the cast making a pact with Lucifer in 1982 and becoming immortal."

I for one really appreciate that explanation.

*Oh yes, friend - I was there when the sugar plant exploded. It was so loud I thought we were under attack by the British again!"

Big Bear Hug by Nicholas Oldland - review

Big Bear Hug by Nicholas Oldland

For the littlest environmentalists, a book as silly as it is big-hearted. The bear wanders all over the place hugging stuff. Animals and trees, mostly. When he comes upon a man who starts to CUT DOWN a tree, the bear briefly considers mauling him to death before reverting to his nature (!) and hugging the guy. Who runs away, extremely unnerved.

And this bear reminds me of someone... ah! the bear in Jon Agee's Milo's Hat Trick. It's the lack of mouth, I think. In the Agee title, I tend to think the bear is telepathic. In this one, the bear is clearly mute. He just hugs stuff.

Love it.

Winnie Finn, Worm Farmer, by Carol Brendler, pictures by Ard Hoyt - review

Winnie Finn, Worm Farmer, by Carol Brendler, pictures by Ard Hoyt

Here's one to keep in mind when selection season rolls around, that is, IF your school does a soil unit, OR a food webs unit, OR plants a garden on school property somewhere, OR teaches about composting. So, yes, that means YOUR school. Certainly MY schools.

Winnie Finn is a worm aficionado. Knows all the funky facts about worms. Would like broader awareness of her area of expertise. Starts thinking about the county fair. Realizes that, no, you can't pin a blue ribbon on a worm... but she can get a share of the prize money by helping her friends and neighbors with their projects.

She constructs a worm composter out of cast-off items, feeds it with table scraps and chicken poop, and soon has rich worm castings, which she gives to the corn farmer in exchange for corn, which she hands over to the chicken lady in exchange for eggs that she passes along to a dog breeder. All three win prizes (tall corn, heavy layers, shiny puppies) and share their winnings with Winnie, who invests in new equipment and is well on her way to becoming a tycoon in the new barter economy we're hearing so much about.

Ard Hoyt's illustrations, are, as usual, lively and fun, with cute details (Winnie's cat is not as enthusiastic about worms as Winnie is). Winnie herself is bright-eyed and tomboyish, but with beads around her neck and a flower on her orange visor. With instructions for building your own worm farm in the back, this book may be shelved as a picture book, but it is well worth remembering as a curriculum support as well.

The Duchess of Whimsy by Randall de Sève and Peter de Sève - review

The Duchess of Whimsy by Randall de Sève and Peter de Sève

Oh, I like this. I like the lavishly insouciant colored pencil and watercolor illustrations. I like the fun, fancy Duchess, with her penchant for "elaborate attire" and "uncommon conversation." I like the Earl of Norm, who, although he is an intrinsically rather quiet guy, really enjoys the Duchess's spirit, and tries to spice himself up with fancy clothes and a giraffe. And I like that, in the end, he wins her over with a grilled cheese sandwich, and they find that they have more in common than they knew. I love that Randall and Peter de Sève are married and live in Brooklyn with their two daughters. Sigh. Love!

Aaaand... now I'm hungry.

Salt by Maurice Gee - review

Salt by Maurice Gee

"Salt" is such a good word. Hard-edged and hissing, but with that L in the middle for nuance. Only one syllable, four letters, terse, definite, but not simple. "Salt" is a noun and a verb, and sometimes an adjective, and it has meanings both mundane and technical - alchemical, even.

In this book, "salt" refers to the salt mines that Burrows dwellers such as Hari and his father, Tarl, must labor in if they are caught by the Whips - minions of the all-powerful Company. But all of the word's connotations travel through the narrative like a mineral vein through ore.

Yes - by the way - we're living in the Land of Capitalized Nouns here, and that's just one of the features of this book that ought to make me cringe: It's the first of a trilogy. It features the by-now familiar main character pairing I call The Princess and the Pauper - Hari, who lives in Blood Burrow and hunts rats for meat, meets up with Pearl, who is fleeing from an arranged marriage that is meant to consolidate her family's position of wealth and power. I can understand the appeal of this kind of arrangement for an author - it gives the reader a window into both ends of an alternate world's social spectrum. But it's getting kind of played: Terry Pratchett's Nation, Westerfeld's Leviathan (and, naturally, Kenneth Oppel's Airborn), and the forthcoming Ship Breaker, which is one spectacular, dark book, all have it.

Also, there are echoes and elements of many other wonderful stories. There's a physically and psychically arduous journey akin to "gotta get that Ring to Mordor". The ruined city and the mines call Riddley Walker to mind (GOD I love that book). We've got a Bene Gesserit witch type, a hands-free Vulcan mind meld, and Jedi mind tricks that even come complete with a seductive Dark Side.

So why does it feel so original? I think it's the spare writing, the unembellished landscape, the unexplained discrepancies between the world of Salt and our own. The plot seems to unspool as if the author is watching his characters make decisions rather than the other way around. The strong spiritual component doesn't bog down the action, and in fact feels natural within the landscape of Hari and Pearl's journey. They experience personal growth that could not be more mysterious to them if they were in a John Green novel.

Maybe that's why this book works so well for me. Maurice Gee writes people as well as John Green, stage-manages an action scene as well as Tolkein, and doesn't get distracted into loving descriptions of the world he's created, which can be a marvelous thing, but which will put off a non-fantasy reader in a heartbeat. It's a flinty book, but one to savor.