Category Archives: Children’s literature

Children's literature, Spare time - Culture

Reading

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Back in fifth grade, I was very competitive with my best friend Heather.  Heather always did just a bit better on spelling tests, and she was a much faster reader than I was.  I vividly remember sitting at our round four-person table in our semi-open classroom (it was the seventies, baby) during reading time, one eye on how fast Heather was turning her pages and the other eye on my own page.  My goal was to keep up, but man was it hard.  I knew I was losing threads of the story in my effort to keep pace with Heather.

And today I still struggle with my reading speed.  I prefer to read slowly and savor a writer’s choice of words, but that takes time.  There are only so many hours in a week that are available for me to read, and there are times (like last evening) when I feel very pressured to just get through the book.  (Last night’s book was the choice for today’s teen book group, I Am Rembrandt’s Daughter, which I loved despite having to gobble it down in one sitting.)

I’ve been following Roger Sutton’s admonitions to lovers of children’s literature recently on his blog, and I do totally understand his thinking.  We should be reading adult literature as well as children’s literature – we should be retaining that intellectual balance in our reading lives.  But how??  I’d wager that Roger Sutton has time in his work day for reading children’s literature (it just makes sense that the editor of the Horn Book would be allowed time to read on the job), and then he can use his off hours for reading adult books.  I don’t have that luxury in my role working in a very busy children’s room.  And then, three days a week, I leave my main job and toddle off to my second job tutoring.  And then, after I get home from tutoring and eat dinner, there is always a stack of children’s books waiting for me that I MUST read.  Most are for the weekly book groups that I run at the library, and a few are children’s books that are so popular with the kids that I know I need to read them to see what they’re all about.  And then too, there are the other parts of life that need to be lived: concerts, walks in the sunshine, household chores, quality time with the spouse.

I miss my old friends Jane Austen and Henry James and Thomas Hardy, but I can’t seem to make time for them anymore.  I know I’ll never be a faster reader, and I doubt that I’ll ever have the extra time available.  What’s a girl to do??

Book groups, Children's literature

Uncovering Avi

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Though the 5th grade book group members love Avi’s Crispin series, there is one thing that really irks them:  Avi’s name.  “What’s his real name?” they ask me.  “Why does he only use the name ‘Avi’?  That’s just dumb,” they say.

So before last Tuesday’s book group, I decided to do a little research and see what I could find out about Avi’s true identity.  On his official website, Avi makes it quite clear that the only name he wants public is Avi.  But I kept poking around, and within fifteen minutes I had discovered his true name (not too hard, it turned out), AND I had also confirmed the validity of his true name through a cryptic quote issued by Avi himself on an online chat with students.  At our book group meeting, I told the kids present what Avi’s real name is, and (sorry, Avi), they giggled. 

Why does this all matter?  Why did I feel driven to uncover Avi’s identity?  Partly because I’m a nosy so-and-so, partly because I despise pretension, partly because the kids asked me over and over and over to do this, and partly because it was a challenge.  It’s almost as if Avi’s real name wouldn’t matter to me or to the kids if he didn’t so firmly reject it.  The rejection of his name is what drives our curiosity: surely the name must be amazing in some way, and surely there must be a really good reason compelling him to cast it aside with such finality.  It’s really none of our business, but we’re humans and we want to know.

In the end, the name was disappointingly ordinary, and once I shared the information with the kids, we all quickly moved on and had a fantastic conversation about the book at hand, never again mentioning Avi’s real name.  We knew, so it didn’t matter anymore.

And though I know now, I won’t be sharing the information here.  If you care to find out, discovering Avi’s real name is an excellent exercise in research (that’s my inner librarian speaking – research is good for your soul).

Book groups, Children's literature

Crispin: At the Edge of the World

Avi’s sequel to his Newbery medal winning Crispin: Cross of Lead is the subject of today’s fifth grade book group.  Historical fiction doesn’t tend to be the hottest genre for this age group, but the kids in the book group passionately love both of these books.  We discussed Cross of Lead a few months back, and though I know that most of the kids went on to read the sequel, At the Edge of the World, on their own, I thought it would be an excellent choice for this month’s book discussion. 

So, if historical fiction isn’t usually as popular as fantasy or realistic fiction, why do these books appeal to the fifth graders?  First of all, as I’ve mentioned before, these fifth graders are an exceptional group of strong, interested, active readers.  But clearly the books take a fair amount of credit here.  In Crispin, who would have lived roughly 650 years ago, Avi has created a character of depth and feeling who can draw today’s readers into England of 1377.  We care about Crispin, and our caring draws us in to the rest of the story.  And Crispin’s adopted father and sister, Bear and Troth, form a loving nuclear family that balances the horror and bloodshed of the violent free company and the destruction wreaked by the French upon the town of Rye.  Had Avi not juxtaposed love and war, I doubt that the readership would be as great for these books.  But he did, and the results are masterful. 

I’m looking forward to today’s discussion, and will post the fifth graders’ comments here in the coming week.

Children's literature, Etc.

Oh, the grammar…

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Like fingernails on a chalkboard, these two lines leaped out at me yesterday:

From the newest Sundance catalog, page 23, “SUNDANCE DENIM MAKES IT’S DEBUT”

From Crispin: At the Edge of the World by Avi, page 126, “With the ship afloat, Bear waded into the water and hoisted Troth and I onto the deck.”

Shudder.  Though the Sundance publication is a catalog, I somehow expect its copy to be of higher quality than most catalogs – it must be that photo of Robert Redford on the inside front cover.  But there, in large capital letters, sits my pet peeve.  “It’s” means “it is.”  Why, oh why, do so few people understand that???  I’ve done my part over the years to educate my students of the truth of “it’s,” but one woman alone cannot alter the mistakes of many.

And then Avi, an author of great talent, makes the mistake of using “I” where he should have used “me.”  Double shudder.  And it’s not the only error of its kind in the book: somewhere in the last quarter of the novel Avi makes the same error again, though of course I can’t find that error now when I need to quote it.  [Please note the correct usage of “it’s” and “its” in the previous sentence.]  Wanting to excuse Avi’s mistake, I thought perhaps this mis-use of “I” was of historical import, that an English orphan in 1377 would have made this error – but I doubt that is true, given that the grammar in the rest of the book is correct by today’s standards.

I know I’m far from perfect, and that I habitually split my infinitives, but it just makes me crazy when I see these two mistakes in print.  Those fingernails are taking some serious slate off that chalkboard.  

What irks you?  What are your pet literary peeves?

Book groups, Children's literature

Five Children and It

At the last 5th grade book group meeting, we discussed E. Nesbit’s Five Children and It.  Without a doubt, this was our best book discussion ever, and I give all the credit for that to the kids in the group. 

About half of our discussion progressed in the usual way, sharing what each of us liked and disliked about the book, trying to figure out anything that puzzled us along the way, and such.  But then one of the kids reminded me that I had mentioned that J.K. Rowling specifically talks about E. Nesbit as being one of the authors who has influenced her the most.  “Why is that?” asked all of the kids.

So I read aloud a quote I had found from J.K. Rowling, which states that Rowling feels more connection with Nesbit than with any other author.  As a group, we tried to figure out why Rowling would say that.  One kid suggested that they both write fantasy, and we all agreed that was true, but that there must be more of a connection between the two writers for Rowling to say what she did. 

Eventually, we teased out that Nesbit’s fantasy takes place in the real world, and is experienced by only a few chosen characters, and that Rowling’s wizards coexist with unknowing muggles in a world that is real aside from the fantasical elements.  Everyone was fully involved in this discussion, and it was engaging, quick-paced, and certainly opened my eyes to an aspect of both Nesbit’s and Rowling’s books that I had never consciously thought about before.

Midway through this conversation, M. exclaimed loudly, “This is SO cool!!  I wish our book groups at school could be like this!!!!” 

Which was so cool for me – because I love these book group discussions, and it’s so rewarding to know that the kids do, too.

Book groups, Children's literature, Young adult literature

1 day, 2 book groups

Of Wintersmith and Clementine, one book was a hit, and one book was a flop.  Any guesses as to which was which?

Once again, I demonstrated my deep understanding of the appeal of children’s and young adult literature: my opinions on the two books were polar opposite to the kids’ opinions.  Granted, the third grade book group had never met before, and only two kids showed up (and a newspaper reporter stayed for the whole meeting), so they tended towards shy rather than forthcoming.  I’d like to think that’s why they claimed to love Clementine, but I think I’ll have to face the sad truth that they actually DID love the book.  They loved the humor, they loved Clementine’s character, and they made some thoughtful observations about language and connections to their lives and other texts.  All in all, a successful first meeting.  (And I decided not to spoil it by saying that I hated the book. 🙂 )

As for the teen book group’s discussion of Wintersmith: by the end of our meeting, they had convinced me that the book is a bit flimsy, with weak characterizations and an abrupt ending.  I had been swept along by Pratchett’s language and the humor (especially the humor of the Feegles, and especially the scene in which the Feegles talk about women – the pursin’ o the lips, the foldin’ o the arms, and the tappin’ of the feet), but the girls in the book group saw past the humor and found many flaws with the novel.  They’re right.  The witches are rather interchangeable, lacking real character, and the plot flounders in the final third of the book.  I still like the book, but I agree with the teen book group that it should be given a B- or C+, no better. 

That’s what I love about these book groups – the kids who come to the meetings are open to and freely participate in intelligent discussions that ultimately expand the appreciation of the book for all participants, me included.  The teen book group mentioned yesterday that they’d like to read some classics (Pride and Prejudice was specifically named), and they will each be sending me lists of books that they’d like to be considered for our February, March, April, May, and June meetings.  I’d love for us to discuss a truly great piece of literature, and see where our discussion leads.

(keep your eyes on the Book List page of this blog, since I’ll be adding many new titles in the coming days)

Book groups, Children, Children's book reviews, Children's literature

Clementine

Oh dear.  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I’ve been recommending Clementine by Sara Pennypacker (illustrations by Marla Frazee) to coworkers, patrons, and friends for quite a while now.  Of course, I hadn’t actually read it, but I’d read all of the reviews, listened to a third grader who loved it, and been dazzled by the cute cover.  So I chose it as the first book for my newly formed third grade book group, and sat down Friday night eager to finally read it.

But – you guessed it.  Overly cynical, highly critical Abby didn’t like the book.  Hated it, more like.  How can that be??  Here’s how: I’ve known a LOT of third graders, kids I taught at the elementary school, kids that I tutor in my off-library hours, and kids who come in to the library.  And not one of those third graders has ever been as cluelessly, annoyingly, cloyingly CUTE as Clementine.  Blech.  Ptooey.  Ptooey. Blech blech blech.  Take a little syrup, add some sugar, molasses, and saccharine, and you’ve got Clementine.  She’s an adult’s idealistic vision of what a third grader should be, and about as far away from Sendak’s Max as possible.  Like Sendak, I’d like the characters in children’s books to reflect real children, with their lumps and bumps and streaks of meanness and startling insights and un-cute moments. 

I won’t be talking with the third grade book group about my feelings about Clementine, since it’s our first meeting and I haven’t even met some of the kids yet.  I know that I tend to be a harsh, harsh critic, and I don’t want to burden our very first meeting with that baggage.  Unless, of course, the kids bring up Clementine’s character, and they want to discuss her.  It will be really interesting to see what they think of her. 

Children's literature, Young adult literature

A two book weekend

After a season of home improvement projects, the cold weather has finally moved in, and I was able to enjoy a two-book weekend.  Absolute heaven (though it wouldn’t be so heavenly if I did this every weekend).

The first book was The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie; the second book was The Off Season by Catherine Gilbert Murdock.  Both books concern young adults who struggle with big life issues, teens who face deaths of loved ones, poverty, terrible accidents of loved ones, and school pressures.  I enjoyed both books, but Alexie’s novel rises to a far higher level than Murdock’s.  Far higher.

Alexie’s touch is lighter and cleaner, and the events of his story feel more genuine and less soap-operatic, while Murdock’s novel made me think of the show E.R. when it turned the corner from interesting to a bit over-the-top ridiculous.  Notably, Alexie’s novel is semi-autobiographic, while Murdock’s seems to be rather removed from her real life (her biography states that she grew up in Connecticut, lives now in suburban Philadelphia, and attended Bryn Mawr College – but The Off Season and its predecessor, Dairy Queen, take place on a family dairy farm in Wisconsin, with a main character who’s more jock than brain).  Does this prove true the old adage that an author should write what he or she knows?  According to the teen book group, who discussed Dairy Queen two weeks ago, that adage is indeed proved.  But I think that The Off Season is weak for another reason, since I did enjoy Dairy Queen: it suffers from sequel-itis. 

When I finished Dairy Queen two weeks ago, I was perfectly happy with it, and happy to imagine how D.J.’s life evolved after the conclusion of the book.  But in preparing for the book group discussion, I was reminded that there is a sequel, and the temptation was too strong: I read the sequel.  And the sequel answered all the unanswered questions from the previous book, and then continued on into new dramas and new difficulties in the life of D.J.  In reading the sequel, I became passive as a reader, since my thoughts and feelings on how D.J. might have matured and grown became moot in the face of the “real” answers.  My opinions didn’t matter any more, because the author, the real authority, had come through with what really happens to D.J.

And that, in a nutshell, is what’s wrong with sequels.  Reading is joyful because it’s active, because the reader gets to take the author’s words and descriptions and use the author’s starting point to embellish and visualize the world of the novel.  Most wonderfully, readers get to close the book at the end and imagine what happens next – how the characters will age and change – how their lives will progress.  I love a book that leaves me with questions, and provides me with the space to answer those questions for myself.  Some sequels honor that space and that role of the reader, but too often sequels impinge on the reader’s right to be active.  And it’s dreadfully hard to avoid sequels in children’s and young adult literature, since a large proportion children’s and YA books today are published as part of a series.  Totally understandable from a marketing standpoint, and totally understandable from an educational standpoint (developing readers seek out series books, for a multitude of very good reasons), but totally sad from the standpoint of an adult reader like me who likes to have a significant role in the reading process.

Book groups, Children's literature

Magyk by Angie Sage

I’m only about one-fifth of the way through Magyk, but so far I’m really enjoying it.

Magyk and its successors, Flyte and Physik, have been sleeper hits in the library with fourth and fifth graders:  the kids who know about the books passionately love them and read and re-read them, but there are a lot of kids who don’t seem to have ever heard of this trilogy.  So I decided it would be a great idea to read Magyk  for the fifth grade book group (which will be meeting tomorrow).

At 564 pages, it’s a bit of a project to try and read for the book group (both for me and for some of the kids in the group), but the book’s quick pace and smooth style make it more approachable than its girth would initially suggest.  And luckily we can take advantage of this three-day weekend to finish reading…

I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s discussion, even though comparisons to Harry Potter are inevitable, because this is just the type of book that these fifth graders love to read:  well-written fantasy with a lot of action, suspense, magical terminology, and colorful characters.  And when we’re discussing a book that everyone loves, then everyone participates and the group’s meeting is fun for all, me included.  And, if we’re having a great conversation about the book, maybe the kids won’t notice that I sneakily bought 100% whole wheat bagels and light cream cheese for the book group snack.

Book groups, Children's book reviews, Children's literature

Framed by Frank Cottrell Boyce

The 6th Grade book group discussed Framed by Frank Cottrell Boyce a week ago Tuesday, and they were very firm in their low opinion of the book, which didn’t surprise me.

Originally, I was going to try to replicate the kids’ comments on the book, but now so much time has elapsed that I don’t think I’ll be able to.  Suffice it to say that not one kid in the group liked the book much, they weren’t engaged by the characters, they couldn’t relate to the lifestyle and culture of the Welsh town in which Framed takes place, and they really didn’t see much humor in the book.  And surprisingly, not one of the kids attending the group that day had been intrigued enough by the paintings cited in the text to follow the link to the National Gallery and look at the paintings online.

Thank goodness that I had thought to bring in my laptop that day, and that I had created links to each painting on my favorites list.  Without question, the best part of our meeting that day was the time we spent looking at the paintings and discussing the paintings.  I even found a short narrated guided tour of the Mona Lisa which allows you to see the back of the painting and the repairs that have been made to the Mona Lisa over the years.  The kids were most engaged and interested while they were viewing the artwork, and I do think that seeing the art added immeasurably to their understanding of the book.  Had I been teaching this book in a school reading group, I would have been sure to introduce the art first and have those images in the minds of the readers as they read the story.

And my opinion of Framed?  I’d like to say that I loved the book.  It’s witty, subtle, totally unique, and laugh-out-loud funny at times.  But as I was reading the book, I had a sneaking suspicion that the kids would not like it.  Much of the humor is very British, and very grown-up.  Things that made me laugh flew over the heads of the kids in my group.  I’d love to know how British and Welsh kids react to this book; was my group’s lack of appreciation due to cultural differences, or to the humor being too sophisticated? 

So once again, I brought a very well-reviewed, highly regarded children’s book to my book group, and it fell flat for them.  Once again, the question arises:  how problematic is it that children’s literature is written by, published by, marketed by, and bought by adults?  I, for one, will never have an answer to that question.