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Bridge to Terabithia

I read Bridge to Terabithia once long ago, and my memory of it was fuzzy–only that it was a very good book, and that it made me sad.

When a student needed to read it for a class, I was glad to pick up a copy and read along. And, having read it again, I have to say that I still think it’s a very good book. And it still makes me sad.

I love Jesse–and feel convicted by him. Like him, I fear what the people around me think–and feel both crippled and embarrassed by my lack of courage. Like Jesse, I have siblings I love–and sometimes want to throttle (less so now that I don’t live with them, but I remember that feeling).

And, then, of course, there’s Leslie–the child of the city and imagination who changes everything. I love the way Leslie brings Jesse along with her flights of imagination, and the way the two of them challenge each other to experience things beyond their normal.

I also love the way this book deals with hard things with both honesty and compassion. In this particular strength, Bridge to Terabithia excels beyond most books I have read. I highly recommend it for anyone. It might be even better than some of the other Newbery award winners I’ve reviewed here, like Holes and Hello, Universe.

Little Women

I’ve been rereading Little Women the past few weeks, and I’m reminded what a wonderful book it is. I started reading it for a The Enchanted Book Club, but I’m way behind, and haven’t been able to participate in the discussions. Maybe I’ll do better with next month’s selection.

Moral Pap for the Young?

Louisa May Alcott may well have considered Little Women to be “moral pap for the young,” but that’s not how I see it. The characters are so well-drawn that it’s hard to help loving them. Even though it’s more than a century since she published the book, I feel like I know Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.

What I’ve always liked best about this is the sister-relationships. They’re so life-like. My sisters have occasionally angered me the way Amy angers Jo. We’ve all strained each others’ nerves. And we have each others’ backs. The particulars may be different, but the experience is the same.

I even like the “moral pap.” At least, I relate to the need to control one’s temper–and appreciate now (as I did when I was young) finding a character who struggled with this in her life. I’m not the only one. And it is a real need. Sometimes maturity requires learning to control oneself–and that’s not necessarily an easy thing.

True Beauty

I also like a book (an old book!) that appreciates women for more than just outward beauty. These “little women” are intelligent, well-read, ambitious, creative, and often exuberant, and they strive to develop good character in themselves. I like them for it. It helps me to recognize that these are the kinds of things (not just physical attractiveness) that make someone beautiful. I want to be this kind of woman.

If you haven’t read this classic, I recommend it. And if you have, it might be worth picking up again.

Enola Holmes: The Case of the Missing Marquess

Chrysanthemums beneath the title page from The Case of the Missing Marquess: An Enola Holmes Mystery

I became interested in Enola Holmes when I saw the movie (on Netflix) titled with her name. I loved it, and her, and so did my husband and daughter, who watched it with me.

But, of course, Enola Holmes lives in a book, too. A set of books, really, by Nancy Springer. As I usually find with good films made from books, the books are even better. Well, at least the first one is. (I imagine the later ones will be as well–I just haven’t read them yet. I have added them to my “want to read” shelf on Goodreads).

Enola is lovable and smart and funny–and she’s dealing with a whole boatload of patronizing hogwash (because women were treated quite deplorably in her day). It’s delightful to watch her succeed where her brothers assume she cannot. Like Adelaide from a few weeks ago, she refuses to let other people’s assumptions box her in.

Anyway, I strongly recommend The Case of the Missing Marquess for those who like history, or mysteries, or girls finding their way in the world.

Holes

This book has been on my shelf for quite some time, and somehow I never felt like picking it up. Maybe the cover was too bland. Maybe the Newbery sticker faded into the sand. I don’t know.

This weekend, though, I picked it up off the shelf, and wow.

I like Stanley and Hector and the other boys at the camp. I like the tiny hints of supernatural–happenings that are just a touch too convenient–but not so far out of the ordinary as to be unbelievable. It’s a surprisingly realistic book for an old-style fable that centers on a curse.

Like all the best old-fashioned fables, this story has a great ending, but the really wonderful part is the journey to get there. I’d highly recommend this if you still read middle-grade books at all.

If you love me, call me Dorrie

This is a nostalgic read for me…a book that someone gave me when I was in late elementary school.

It love the characters here, and the Parent-trap like machinations of the teens are both funny and heartwarming.

I loved and still love the way Dorrie finds her place in her family and gets to stability, even if it’s not exactly the way she envisions it. And though there are preachy moments in here they aren’t completely cringe-worthy.

This is a book I go back to from time to time–a comfort read when the world has gone crazy. Do you have any nostalgia reads like this?

Binti

I picked this up from the library after a friend recommended it on Goodreads, and it’s every bit as good as she said it was. I’m probably going to want to get a copy of my own of this stunning little gem at some point.

When Binti leaves home to attend university off-world, her traditional family and people don’t approve. They say she’s selfish. That she’s ruining her future. That the university will separate her from her culture.

Binti goes anyway, lured by the promise of sinking into the mathematics that give her unique abilities to concentrate and communicate.

She doesn’t expect those abilities to become quite so critically important as they do. Her very survival depends on them, and that process of survival changes her in ways even her family couldn’t have predicted.

This is a fabulous story that explores (in an edge-of-the-seat danger kind of way, not a preachy way) what it means to leave home, and what it takes to keep some of home with you.

Scarlet

This is book 2 in The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, and it’s every bit as good as Cinder. The story continues, with great new characters taking center stage. I love Scarlet’s loyalty and tenacity and Wolf’s fight to hang onto the good parts of his humanity. Thorne is fun, too. (Though I’m not sure I understand quite how much my daughter likes him.)

I totally understand K’s love for the series, though. I can’t wait to start on the next book. (Actually, I have to wait to start on the next book because I have actual, you know, work I have to get done, and once I get into these, I tend not to stop. Still, I’m very excited to get to the next book as soon as I can open up a time in my schedule that’s long enough for it.)

If you like YA science fiction and fantasy, and you haven’t read these yet, you really should.

Boxers & Saints

So, I’m not usually a graphic novel person, but every so often I run across something amazing. This is one of those things.

This is a story ripped from the pages of history–but not the history I learned in school. Why is that? well, because we didn’t do much Chinese history

I may have heard of the Boxer “rebellion” (can you really call it a rebellion when it’s local people trying to kick out foreigners?), but I certainly didn’t learn anything about its nuances when I was in school.

But this story tells the history from the perspective of two teens–one a Chinese Christian, one a “boxer” (think kung fu, not guys stripped to the waist and wearing leather mitts). It’s easy to relate to both. It’s easy to see how they take the paths they take. It’s easy to see how those paths collide.

And the artwork is incredible.

Read it. It’s absolutely worth the time.

Cinder

My fourteen-year old has been begging me to read this one for at least a year now–and it’s spectacular. I love the world-building. Everything from Cinder’s cyborg parts to her stall in the market is shown in beautiful detail that makes the story come alive.

And, of course, fairy-tale retellings are among my very favorite kinds of stories. This Cinderella remake is absolutely delightful. Yes, I’m reading the other books (just as soon as I make some headway on my to-do list).

The Book Thief

Wow.

Sometimes I read a book, and it’s so good, that I’m a bit in awe. This one is like that.

I didn’t know what to think, at first, of a book narrated by death. But it grew on me. And seemed so appropriate–Death telling a story about World War II–a time when he was unusually busy.

Liesel is a great main character, but I think my favorite was Hans Hubermann–a man both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. He doesn’t look like anything special. He’s not super-well educated (though he teaches Liesel to read and encourages her love of words). He doesn’t have an impressive job (though he’s a competent and reasonably hard-working painter). He’s not particularly talented (though he plays the accordion with gusto).

But–he keeps promises, and he loves in extravagantly practical ways. If, at the end of my days, as much can be said of me, I will have lived well.

I haven’t cried so much reading a book in a long time.