Lisa’s Comments (group member since Jan 04, 2008)

Lisa’s comments from the Newbery Books group.

I actually find the anti-communist message harder and harder as I get older. I've read this book at least every couple of years since I was ten or so. It's still pretty amazing, though. And Meg's character is utterly idenifiable, especially as her mother keeps reminding her how similar they are.

I like The Giver a lot. But I LOVE Number The Stars. Even among Lowry's works, I find the real (though dystopian) WWII story much more moving than the sci-fi dystopian future. And I love the real, historical story of Norway managing to get almost all its Jews safely out of the country. Now THAT seems like fiction!

I thought this book was interesting and engaging, but not stellar. Perhaps what I liked best about it was its 'dated' feel. It was clearly of its time. Arguments with dad, a few first tentative dates...how sweet. Pre-teen romance books cover those themes now, not Newberys. (I enhanced the 'vintage' experience by picking up a used copy from the time, with a great cover and the smell of an old, old paperback.)

Aimee, your kids are incredibly lucky (and perhaps a bit sheltered) if none of them are dealing with similar issues.

I've got a remarkably opposite perspective. I work as a therapist with kids in foster care. I thought it was an incredibly approachable, interesting, and charming take on something that is hugely familiar to so many kids I know, and not just ones at work.

I loved Lucky. I loved her anger, and her fears. She was overwhelmed, and naturally so, but the story was told in a way that it would resonate without overwhelming readers.

Most of the Newberys for the last few decades have been about children in difficult circumstances dealing with fears, uncertainties, even anger. At their best, they deal with the most challenging hurdle for many kids, which is coming to terms with their parents' humanity and weaknesses. These books often balance entertainment with some sort of fascination about others' circumstances (at near that age, I read Anne Frank's Diary, among other things), and promote empathy in kids who don't find in the stories the normalization of their own confusing experiences. This book does that exceptionally well, and aside from that, I enjoyed it, too.

It was probably the kids' lit book I've read recently that most made me think of all the kids I wanted to recommend it to.

Number The Stars is my #1 favorite Newbery book. Although I'm pretty sure it was 1990 and (dating myself here) I would have been far too old for it, had I been a kid at that reading level, I'm fairly certain it would have struck me as pretty amazing then, too.

I just read M.C. Higgins The Great, figuring I'd read it as a kid, but it was entirely new. I was pretty impressed with the book, which got pretty abstract at times. It got all non-representational in places, like a Toni Morrison book.

For some reason, when I re-read the books, too, it's what I don't remember that seems to strike me hardest.

It was more interesting than I expected, so I was happy about that. A few of the stories were kind of cute and engaging. I, too, liked the sisters. I understand how it could be considered a notable contribution to children's literature.

But it doesn't strike me as the kind of book children would enjoy, would choose to read on their own, would finish if it weren't assigned in school. I'm sure I wouldn't have had much patience for it when I was ten. The language does present a bit of a challenge for a child, plus the fact that it's written in cadence, the subtlety of the stories, and, probably the most damning aspect: It's meant to be assigned to children to memorize. Ouch. I mean, I couldn't even memorize the to be or not to be monologue for high school english class. I'm sure there are plenty of children for whom this would be a source of pure dread and torture.

(To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to lay down arms against a sea of oppressions, and by something-or-other, end them. Something else goes here. To sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the rub. For in such sleep of death what dreams may come...shuffle off this mortal coil...nope, that's the best I can do, and even most of that's probably wrong)

I really like that list! Though now I suppose I'll just go read Dr. Doolittle on my own. :)

Totally looking forward to Dr. Dolittle! But some of the more obscure early ones may be out of print or hard to find.

I would like it if we got some of the newer ones into the mix, because as awesome as I think this idea is, I just don't think we'll keep it going long enough to get from the 1960s to the modern era on this schedule.

JM, you should join us for the book group--this one's our first book, starting May 1 right here in this very thread!

I only had to wait a week and a half or something at my local library, but Powells Books is out of it.

Luckily, this one doesn't involve driving anywhere, or bringing potluck.

Okay, I'll miss the potluck.

:muffins:
:pasta salad:
:cheese dip:

Hooray for the library! They've got the book for me! I'm totally in.

I'm going to recommend that each book get its own thread, so discussions about various books don't pile up on each other and get confused.

I've got this book on hold at the library, so if Multnomah County comes through for me, I'm in.

It sounds interesting to me. I can't promise I'll always participate, but if we can get a group of 'most of the times' who stick to that, there should be a decent quorum most months.

Do you want to read them in reverse order? Draw out of a hat? Have a member suggest a favorite each month? Your idea, so I'll leave the selection process up to you.

That's awesome. Congrats!

I'm going to go with "laziness." Add anything you'd like!

Okay, in my last few weeks of unemployment I borrowed a ton of books from the library, including making a significant dent in the Newberies (I'm mixing award and honors, I forget which book is which).

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry (Mildred D. Taylor): For some reason, I ended up reading a bunch of books set in the depression that focused on race relations, including highly acclaimed books written for adults. This one hit the hardest and pulled no punches. I'd read it years ago, but I'd forgotten how powerful it is. There's no sweet, hopeful ending, just adults trying to put the best face they can on a situation that's gone from bad to worse, but not deceiving their children that things are going to be even harder.

A Long Way From Chicago (Richard Peck): I didn't like it as much as A Year Down Yonder. It focused less on the storyteller and more on describing the town and grandma, and the narrator in this case was the older brother, who just never developed as a character. On top of that, it seemed pretty silly in the midst of all these other depression stories I somehow ended up reading all at once, and gave a pretty lightweight treatment (not that it didn't address it, it just did so in a way that came across as superficial and sugarcoated) to race relations at the time.

The Witches of Worm (Zilpha Keatley Snyder): I hated this book. A creepy '70s-era morality tale about a messed-up, self-absorbed girl who blames all her problems on witchcraft. Sure, in the end she 'learns her lesson' and 'comes clean', but unlike some unpleasant characters you can see potential in and can root for, she was just putrid. I'd hate to get a kid like her showing up in my office for therapy. Even the cat didn't get much of my sympathy.

Dear Mr. Henshaw (Beverly Cleary): My favorite thing about this book is that it's about a kid who is given the assignment, in first grade, to write to his favorite author. When I was in first grade (several years before this book was published), I was given the assignment to write to my favorite author. I wrote to Beverly Cleary. So I'm going to take credit for inspiring this book. You heard it first, folks. Other than that, I think it addressed some issues that had been a bit taboo for that age range in the mid-eighties (divorce, a parent who might not be all that responsible) but are well-known to kids now. As seems to happen to me a lot lately (how do I always end up reading similar books all clumped together?), I ended up reading two very similar books in a row that were epistolary in style and dealt with young boys who were dealing with recently-absent fathers.

Ramona and her Father (Beverly Cleary): I loved the Ramona books when I was a kid. I'm surprised, reading them now, how complex they are for books aimed at six-year-olds. Ramona's dealing with some pretty serious issues, including her father's unemployment and how that changes the family's financial picture. She can be kind of impulsive and even explosive, but not in a "...and then I learned my lesson and I'll never do it again" sort of way. I find it a bit hard to get completely engaged in books at this reading level, but Cleary really knows what she's doing. And I'm enjoying the Portland references, which meant nothing to me the first time around!

From The Mixed-Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (E.L. Konigsburg): I remembered loving this book as a kid. They ran away for at least a week, and lived pretty happily in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I desperately wanted an adventure like that when I was that age. It was nearly as much fun to read as an adult, with the added benefit of being able to enjoy the subtle and equivocal nature of the requisite lesson the kids learn from their experience.

Nothing But The Truth: A Documentary Novel (Avi): This started out engaging and interesting, but went downhill. I'll give it credit for not providing some sort of easy solution and happy ending. But the main character was not only not all that likeable, but due to the epistolary style, it was hard for him to develop much complexity, or the story to flesh out the details. You know the issue is complex, and the story gives you some hints as to why, but there ought to have been more there.

The Great Wheel (Robert Lawson): I picked this up totally on a whim because it was sitting on an endcap, and had that bright, shiny seal on the cover. It was a new version with a celebrity foreward by Richard Peck, and I didn't realize until I cracked the cover that it was actually written about 1950. I found it pleasant enough, but without much of a hook. It's the story of an Irish boy of about 18, circa 1900, who goes to America to seek his fortune, first working with his uncle laying sewers in New York, then recruited by another uncle to work for Ferris and build the first Ferris wheel for the Chicago World's Fair. There was a lot of engineering stuff, which would probably appeal to a small and specific group of kids, and a little romance, which would appeal to another group of...okay, I'll say it, girls, except that that particular set of girls wouldn't have much interest in the main part of the story, and the romance probably wouldn't interest the kids in it for the engineering. I didn't find either all that satisfying.

The View From Saturday (E.L. Konigsburg): This was a fun read, but still, it felt to me that Ms. K. has gotten a bit simplistic over time. Unlike Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, where the message seemed to be that what you set out seeking and what you find are not only two different things, but what you find will be complicated, might be a question instead of an answer, and may be difficult and even a little disappointing, and that's okay...this one seemed to just say that when fate brings people together, they can do anything. I enjoyed the characters, but the message was boooo-ring.

Rules (Cynthia Lord): A likeable book about dealing with people with disabilities. The main character can be a bit shallow, but I think her struggle, and the lack of easy answers, seems realistic for someone her age. Her vacillation between empathy/genuine friendship and insecurity seemed very real.

A Single Shard (Linda Sue Park): A cute fable, and an engaging read, though I had a hard time with how she (admittedly) distorted the cultural norms at the time to give us a sympathetic orphan character.

The Higher Power Of Lucky (Susan Patron): I loved this character. As an adult, I wanted to throttle her for all the assumptions she makes, but that's what kids are like. And as a therapist, I felt like she was so realistic in the way she struggled bravely to hide her feelings of loss, because she thought she needed to do so to recruit a substitute caregiver, yet hiding those feelings of loss prevented her from really using her new caregiver as a resource for comfort, or trusting that the caregiver would stick with her. As I start to work exclusively with foster kids, I should buy this book and shelve it next to all my books on how to approach therapy with kids who have experienced the loss of a parent.

I just finished A Year Down Yonder, by Richard Peck. A very fun story about a girl in the depression sent to live with her tough-as-nails, kind of intimidating grandmother. The ending was sappy as hell, though. It felt like a book that had been written decades earlier, both in good ways and in bad ways (like that sticky-sweet ending).

I don't know anything about it, but I'd love to check it out. I'm a little wary about it being described as a "collection of monologues and dialogues," though.