Almost never do I pick up books with animals in their titles or on the covers. I was one of those students who was inundated by that required dead-animal reading in school: Rascal, Sounder, The Yearling, and others I’ve since blocked out. In fact, one of the books I most relate to? No More Dead Dogs by Gordon Korman. Haven’t read it? Do, and you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

Fast forward to the day when Kim Baker asked if I wanted to read an ARC of her then-forthcoming book, I gave an enthusiastic YES.

Then I received it. it’s called THE WATER BEARS. Bears. Bear on the cover.

Oh, no. But I said I’d read it, so I yanked off the Band-Aid and jumped right into the first chapter. I didn’t stop. Turns out, I had nothing to fear. No pet bears die in this book.

it’s all about Newt Gomez’s personal journey, a year after he survived a bear attack. And it jumps headlong into a story of hope and fears and wishes.

All Newt wants for his 13th birthday is a new bicycle. And to go to school on the mainland. And to stop having nightmares about the attack that caused the scars and pains in his leg. But instead of a bicycle, his family surprises him with a former taco truck he can drive around. Yes, at 13, he’s driving an old truck (and it makes sense in the story)! Because of the truck, Newt is now carting around a life-size wooden bear that washed ashore. Turns out, this bear might grant wishes, one per person. But just as Newt has decided on his wish, everything changes.

What I loved most about this book – aside from the very real characters, the extraordinarily unique setting of Murphy Island, and an awesome sense of family – it reminds us that if we wish and wish hard, our wishes just might come true, but not necessarily the way we envision them.

Thanks, Kim, for a wonderful, heartfelt read.

… years ago, during that decade when I envisioned myself as a picture book author, I checked out book after book after book from the library, reading and learning … and eventually learning I had way too many words in me to be a picture book author. But it wasn’t in vain. It had been lovely. Especially with this one book.

If checking out the same title, time and again, entitled you to own that book, Marianna May and Nursey would have been ours long before it went out of print and I had to hunt it down.*

Marianna May and Nursey may not be Tomie dePaola’s most popular work, but it was the most popular book in our house. I still remember the toddler begging me to read it several times each night, even during a bout with acute laryngitis. She wouldn’t rest until I croaked it out. Twice.

Tomie dePaola, a wonderful teacher, mentor, personality, and force passed away earlier this week. While we usually use Barrie Summy’s Book Review Club to highlight new books, today, I urge you to remember than some of our best literature has already been published.

And if you can spare a few dollars, consider honoring the memory of Tomie dePaola by buying one of his titles for yourself, for the little ones in your life, or to donate to schools or libraries in need. I plan to.

*I just saw. Marianna May and Nursey has been reissued!

Here’s a middle grade novel that scared me even before I read it. The Ghost in Apartment 2R by Denis Markell (Delacorte Press 2019). It’s not that the title or the thought of ghosts freaked me out. No. I blanched because I recently finished a full 70,000-word first draft of a book, and the concept of Markell’s story seemed way too close for comfort.

I ran right out to get a copy. Then it sat on my table for one day. For two. I circled it again. Again. Finally, I grew the guts to pounce. I’m happy to report that I’m not writing the same book. I’m nearly as happy to report that this is a fun, approachable, conversational read with much to love.

Danny swears there’s a ghost in his apartment. His parents and his friends swear it’s an emotional reaction to changes in his life. His brother has left for college, and Danny’s parents had always promised he’d get to move from his literal closet of a bedroom – and yes, he’s heard all the Harry Potter jokes – to his brother’s room when that happened. But when his parents decide to rent out the bedroom to make more money for college expenses, that’s when the (maybe) ghost starts showing up.

While readers will root for Danny’s attempts to convince his friends and parents to believe in his ghost, it might be the setting that wins us over the most. This ghost story is also a love letter to Brooklyn and its cultural richness history. All the sights and sounds and smells and tastes come fully alive and have me craving to revisit Brooklyn – specifically, the area where Danny lives – the next time I come to NYC.

It’s all so real. So are the characters and the relationships – both peer-to-peer and cross-generational. Denis Markell has wonderfully captured the varied and interesting and quirky personalities that make this book stand out.

I picked up The Ghost in Apartment 2R, hoping I’d read something different. I did. And I’m glad, for me, but especially for the readers.

So happy to be included on this list! The Gollywhopper Games has been in print for nearly 12 years, and I still get mail from readers who are discovering it for the first time. This is one reason why. Thanks so much!

If you’ve ever heard M.T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin speak, you’ll know that a collaboration between the two could only amount to something special. And highly intelligent. And different. And thoughtful. And … everything.

Because their work on The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge has already garnered a mass amount of publicity, including a number of starred reviews and is long-listed for the National Book Award, why would I talk abut it here?

The reason: When I went to place a hold on it through my local library system – I figured I might have to wait in line – I found there were a number of copies just sitting on the shelves. Even today, 6 of the 8 copies are available for checkout.

And so I’m giving a shout-out to a book that isn’t in my normal wheelhouse.

The plot, at the outset, sounds simple. Curmudgeonly historian Brangwain Spurge has been catapulted over the mountains by the elfin nation to deliver an artifact to the goblins, a peace offering, he’s told, that may ease the rift that has continued for a century. Poor Brangwain’s travels are anything but smooth. Perhaps worse, he is not taken to the goblin leader but is instead, hosted by Werfel, an enthusiastic archivist who has the notion that they will become true professional camrades. Brangwain Spurge just wants to fulfill his obligations. What happens next is a series of misunderstanding, missteps, and misguided missives (we see these in Eugene Yelchin’s wonderful illustration) that have us wondering exactly how there could ever be a satisfying conclusion.

Here’s where this book veers far from average. As you read, you’ll soon discover that you’re not only involved in an adventure, but a political commentary, a satire, an allegory, a case of unreliable narrators, and a work of undeniable excellence. Oh, and you can categorize it as a road-trip story, too. I see The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge being taught in high school and college courses. I can also see MG and YA readers lapping it up for the plot and for the pictures. And don’t gloss over those pictures; they are a layer unto themselves.

This book will not be for every reader. But it’s not intended to be. It wasn’t for me. And then, it was. A must read!

A few weeks before I was to appear at a school visit last month, the librarian asked if I would stay after for a pizza party. Invited would be the twelve 4th and 5th graders who had read every book on the Mark Twain list. I love pizza. I love parties. I love readers. And I, myself, had read all those books, too.

I had three favorites, one of which, I predicted, would be an underdog in the voting, for the sole reason that the general conflict is (sadly) something kids see every day.

When I first opened this particular book, I didn’t expect to love it as much as I did, but you can’t always judge a book by its cover. And you can’t judge people by theirs. Or by your initial impressions of them. The latter is a big takeaway from SAVE ME A SEAT by Sarah Weeks and Gita Varadarajan.

For Ravi, it’s the his first day of fifth grade in a new country. Back in India, he was a cricket star, super popular, super smart. He swaggers in to his new school full of hope and optimism and immediately spots Dillon, a child of Indian immigrants with swoopy bangs, a big smile, and an even bigger following. Ravi know, with absolute certainty, that he and Dillon will become the best of friends.

Dillon is exactly the guy who Joe Sylvester tries to avoid. Joe is large for his age, has APD (a noise-filtering condition), and is an easy target. Ravi wants nothing to do with Joe, who’s so unpopular, he eats lunch in the cafeteria by himself. Besides, they have nothing in common; then again, initial impressions are often wrong, especially when there’s a smiling, swoopy-haired bully involved.

As a seasoned reader, you can only imagine that with such different perspectives and outlooks, Ravi and Joe are headed on the same crash course for disaster. I’m a cringe-r. And this book is riddled with the best kind of cringe-worthy parts, the type that feels like these kiddos will only get stronger through their embarrassment and humiliation.

Save Me a Seat is told from alternating points of view, over the course of the five-day school week, each day’s section named for the featured cafeteria lunch. As for me, I didn’t need lunch the day I read this book. I swallowed it in one huge, immensely satisfying gulp.

Weeks later, at the pizza party, after I asked those 12 Mark Twain readers to save me a slice, I also asked which book they planned to vote for. No one talked about Ravi and Joe. The three titles mentioned most; really terrific books as well: Unbound (Ann E. Burg), Maxie’s Secrets (Lynn Plourde), and The Seventh Wish (Kate Messner). But when I asked the kiddos about Save Me a Seat, there was an overwhelming, “Oh, yeah!” It may not win the Mark Twain Award, but it’s a true winner!

I make it a point to review books that you may not have heard about. This month, though, I’m making an exception and I’ll always make an exception for a must-read. The Parker Inheritance by Varian Johnson is a must-read.

I’d had so much fun reading an earlier book of his, The Great Greene Heist, that when I heard Varian was coming out with a new mystery, it soared to the top of my Buy-It! list. I did buy it soon after its release, but I approached it like dessert, waiting to consume it as a special treat. And it was special.

It sets up like this:
When Candice Miller temporarily moves to her late grandmother’s house in small-town South Carolina, she finds a letter that reveals the first clue to a puzzle, which promises to lead to a fortune. With the help of Brandon, her neighbor, they embark on a path that not only brings them more clues, but also brings to light the ugly and beautiful truths surrounding the town and its inhabitants.

I often find books to love, but this is a book I wish I had written. I couldn’t have, though. I am not a colored boy born in the 1910s. I am not a Negro tennis player born in the 1940s. I am not a black girl born in the 2000s. Varian Johnson has taken realities of African American life from the Jim Crow South through the present, and he has expertly placed them in a context that helps further our understanding of the racism that did exist and still exists today. This piece is woven in so expertly, it becomes a natural and essential element to a very compelling mystery.

I can count, on one finger, the books I have re-read as an adult. Not only is that book, The Westing Game, mentioned in The Parker Inheritance, it influences Candice’s and Brandon’s quest. And I predict, within the next few months, the first sentence in this paragraph will no longer be true. I plan to start The Parker Inheritance over, from page 1, as soon as I have another reason to treat myself to reading dessert.

(Full disclosure: I’ve met Varian Johnson a few times, had dinner with him once but that, in no way, has influenced me choosing to talk about his book, nor has it shaped this review.)

Confession #1: I have seen the movie Ocean’s Eleven, in whole or in part, at least 30 times. Probably more. There’s something about a great heist story that keeps me riveted to the screen or the book or my imagination. (I think I have a heist story in me; it just hasn’t come out yet.)

Confession #2: I read very few fantasy books.

When, however, I saw the announcement of Sarah Beth Durst’s new book, I didn’t care that Fire & Heist was a fantasy. I ordered it from my local bookstore immediately. Full disclosure, I’ve known Sarah Beth Durst since early Live Journal days. I’ve also had the pleasure of our paths crossing several times, in person, so I really, really wanted to like this book. I LOVED it. Fire & Heist is everything a heist story AND a fantasy story should be.

Sky Hawkins lives within a sub-culture in Aspen, Colorado, one that celebrates the art of the heist. She is a wyvern, a human capable of transforming into a dragon, and as a wyvern, one gains power and acceptance by stealing treasure. Right now, however, Sky is at her lowest low. Her mother, who failed in some grand, mysterious scheme, has disappeared and has cast shame over her entire family. Sky’s friends have turned their backs on her. Even worse, it was her boyfriend who emphatically humiliated at their community’s Reckoning. Sky needs answers. The only way to get them is to discover what her mom was trying to steal and complete the heist herself. With a pieced-together crew, Sky goes against the wishes of her father and brothers to embark on a mission that could bring back at least a semblance of her old life or, possibly, lead to worse.

There you have it – all the motives and emotions and setting and characters and details and gold and jewels you’ll even need for a nail-biting, page-turning, and thoroughly satisfying heist story. And now I’m off to pass Fire & Heist on to an 8th grader who has no clue how great a story she’s about to read.

I can’t quite remember how I met Antony John. It was at some local writer’s get-together, I believe. Sure. Let’s say that was it. And it definitely was at the beginning of both of our writing/author careers. I may have cheered as loudly as his closest family and friends when he won the Schneider Family Book Award for his outstanding YA Five Flavors of Dumb.

Then one day, two or three years ago (time flies, you know?), he asked if I would read a draft of his first foray into middle grade fiction, give him feedback. I didn’t pause. Of course, I would. I’m a sucker for his characters and their amazing senses of humor. (Reflects the author. Truly.)

I say this all so that you know that I was a big fan of MASCOT even before his edits, even when the dog was farting too much. I was a big fan before any editor saw it. And now, the story is even better.

Meet Noah Savino. He doesn’t really know his life anymore. In his old life, he was starting catcher on one of the best little league teams in St. Louis, he was tight with Logan Montgomery and the core of that team, and he could stand. Following a car accident that killed his father,  he’s stuck in a wheelchair, and everyone (except maybe Alyssa Choo) looks at him with pity. And here in 7th grade, there’s this new kid, Double-Wide (which accurately describes his size and the amount of info he shares), who has latched onto him.

WAIT. Don’t think this is one of those depressing books, not even if I go into Noah’s issues with physical therapy, his mom’s new relationship, and the neighbor who couldn’t be more unfriendly. MASCOT is filled with laugh-out-loud moments, and feel-good ones, too, as it follow Noah’s struggles to forge a life where he’s not stuck on the sidelines anymore.

All right, Antony, hurry up with that next book!

Welcome to a book review in three parts. Part One concerns the reason why I even chose to read this book. Part Two introduces my skepticism about this choice. Part Three finally tells you what I think about it. Enjoy the backstory; enjoy the book.

PART ONE

Travel to Florida with me, about 6 years ago. I was invited for an incredible week of school visits, to date still one of my best experiences. The Gollywhopper Games had been chosen for the Sunshine State Readers list, and I was making the rounds. Toward the end of the week, one of the librarians showed me this wall outside her school’s cafeteria. Students who’d read books on the list had their pictures, along with the books they’d read (more added as necessary), posted on that wall.

The librarian invited me to join them in their reading journey. A bit exhausted and overwhelmed by this wonderful week, also wanting to be a good sport, I said, “Sure. I’ll join your Superstar wall.” When it hit me that I’d committed to reading 15 MG books, many of which I had little interest in reading, I sort of regretted it. But I have this strange habit of honoring my commitments.

It was one of the best blurted-out agreements I’d ever made. Even though the genres and/or subjects in a number of these books fell outside my personal preferences, this turned out to be a truly great reading experience.

PART TWO

Remembering how wonderful it was being a Superstar that year; also struggling with choosing which books to read next (so many books, so little time), I decided to do what I’d been threatening ever since Florida. I promised myself I’d make it through the entire Mark Twain List from my state of Missouri. 

I bought the full stack, now on its way to a school on the other side of the state (if you’re a teacher/librarian you may want to periodically check @jodyfeldman on Twitter for future giveaways). Then I looked at what I’d gotten myself into. Specifically, two books with dogs on the cover.

Understand, I am a huge fan of Gordon Korman’s No More Dead Dogs because I utterly identify with the main character. When I was in school, yearly it seemed, I suffered through assigned dead-animal books; Rascal, The Yearling, Sounder — and my brain has chosen to forget the rest — but I wasn’t about to let a few hours of reading stop me.

PART THREE

Maxi’s Secret (Or, What You Can Learn From a Dog) by Lynn Plourde.
This is a book where the dog dies. That’s not a spoiler. Here are the first two lines:

Let’s get this part over with – it’s not secret.
My dog, Maxi, dies.

There’s a bit of brilliance in that opening. It reminded me of one of my favorite adult books, Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, which reveals early on that the hostages are eventually released unharmed. It works because you can read the book,  appreciating the characters and circumstances and nuances without worrying about the eventuality of it all. Similarly, in Maxi’s Secrets, it’s more a story of how this big, bouncy, white dog changes so many lives in so many ways. 

Timminy’s family has just moved to a new town which means a new middle school. Problem one, Timminy is short, really short, which makes him a bully target. To help him ease in, his parents agree to get him a dog. The lovable puppy he falls in love with happens to, well, let me quote the flap copy: “When Timminy discovers Maxi is deaf, he is determined to help her—after all, his parents didn’t return him because he was a runt.” And so he does, with the help of neighbor Abby, who is blind.

Seriously. That all sounds terrible and depressing: blindness, deafness, shortness, death. Turns out, this is a truly funny, hopeful, inspiring, riveting read. And that’s exactly why I’ve decided to keep reading the entirety of one State List every year. You never know what gems you may find.