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The Restorationists series by Carolyn Leiloglou

Nov20
  • Beneath the Swirling Sky by Carolyn Leiloglou. Illustrated by Vivienne To.
  • Between Flowers and Bones by Carolyn Leiloglou. Illustrated by Vivienne To.

I read Beneath the Swirling Sky last year when it came out—and failed to write a review. Now, I just finished the second book in what is slated to be a trilogy, and I must say that that this series, already pretty good in the first installment, just got better in the sequel. Reading Between Flowers and Bones was an immersion experience, just like stepping into a book (or a painting).

That’s a not-so-subtle nod to what happens in these stories. In Beneath the Swirling Sky, Vincent is visiting his great uncle Leo in Texas. Vincent’s parents believe that if Vincent gets a taste of all of the art that Uncle Leo, an art restorer, has in his home, Vincent will start making art again. But Vincent never wants to look at a paintbrush again.

However, Vincent’s homeschooled cousin, Georgia, and his little sister Lili, are also staying with Leo, and when Vincent actually falls into a painting and Lili gets kidnapped . . . well, Vincent’s gift for art and artistry along with Georgia’s navigational skills are the only way to save Lili. And so Vincent becomes a Restorationist.

Between Flowers and Bones focuses on Georgia and her envy of the gifts of others to the detriment of her own gift as a Restorationist Navigator. Can Georgia and Vincent become a team, or will Georgia’s jealousy and Vincent’s headaches keep them from saving and restoring and even making great art? Just as the first book featured the work of Vincent Van Gogh, but also a lot of other artworks by a multitude of artists, this second one features Georgia O’Keefe along with many other artists in an exciting art adventure.

It looks if the third book in the trilogy will feature yet another child, and probably another artist, as the central characters in the book. The ending in Between Flowers and Bones is somewhat satisfying, but also a bit of a cliffhanger, which is always not my favorite kind of ending. But I can deal with it. At least the story does have a good arc, and it was all engaging enough for me to want to come back for more.

Ms. Leiloglou is a homeschool mom, the granddaughter of art collectors, and the daughter of an art teacher. So all of the art and the inclusion of a homeschooled character in the boos is no accident. Indeed, it’s obvious that writing these books required a lot of research and a lot time spent in art museums and artists’ studios. All of the artists and paintings that are mentioned in the books are an invitation to view their work, and I was intrigued enough to look up some of them online. Surely art-inclined readers will be drawn to do the same.

The Restorationists series embodies middle grade fantasy quest fiction at its best, and I recommend it–if you don’t mind that the story is somewhat incomplete. Or you could wait for the third book–maybe, next year?

The Long Way Around by Anne Nesbet

Nov12

This 2024 middle grade fiction book reminded me of another book I read a couple of years ago, Out of Range by Heidi Lang. But I liked The Long Way Around even better because the characters were more likable and more supportive of each other. I was also reminded of Lost on a Mountain in Maine by Donn Fendler, a true story of how a 12 year old boy survived for nine days in the Maine wilderness without enough food or proper clothing and made it back to be reunited with his family.

The Long Way Around takes place on the other side of the country in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of Northern California and features three cousins–Owen, Vivian, and Amy–who become separated from their parents by an earthquake-caused rockfall. There’s only one way to get back to civilization—the long way around on an “unmaintained” trail that’s barely visible on the map.

As the children hike through many miles of wilderness they encounter earthquake aftershocks, dangerous animals, thunderstorms, and roadblocks that challenge their courage, persistence, and survival skills. Each cousin brings with him or her both strengths and weaknesses that give them reasons and the ability to help one another survive. Vivian, age twelve, is the leader in the group, but she carries with her a fear of heights and of her future in scary middle school. Owen, also twelve, has what sounds like PTSD from a car wreck that he recently survived, but he’s really intelligent and his cooking, math, and map skills are an asset to the team. Amy, Vivian’s little sister, is only eight years old, and she is the most vulnerable of the trio, physically speaking. But Amy also has the best imagination of the bunch and a capacity for hope that keeps them all going.

Survival stories, even fictional ones, are inspiring. They show us that we can draw on strengths we never knew we had until the time comes. In the story, Vivian in particular learns that she can expect to be ready when the challenge comes to face whatever comes at her, to overcome her fears one step at a time.

Bletchley Park Books for Teens

Nov8

The Enigma Girls: How Ten Teenagers Broke Ciphers, Kept Secrets, and Helped Win World War II by Candace Fleming.

The Bletchley Riddle by Ruta Sepetys and Steve Sheinkin.

Bletchley Park and the code breakers who lived and worked there during World War II are hot topics these days. Maybe it’s because the whole episode is less “mined” because of all the secrecy that surrounded the work there. Maybe it’s just a fleeting trend. At any rate, there do seem to be a lot of books about Bletchley floating around, but not so many for the younger set. Until now.

These two books, one fiction and one nonfiction, were recently published (2024) and are appropriate for young people about 13 years of age and up. The Enigma Girls tells the story of several teenaged girls who were recruited to work at Bletchley either because of their math skills or their language proficiency. But these girls were not, for the most part, doing the high level code breaking that was the most intriguing and intellectually challenging work going on at Bletchley Park. Rather, they were keeping records on notecards of all of the code words and German double speak that had been decoded. Or they were servicing and keeping the huge “bombes” running. These were the machines that were created to infiltrate and determine the settings for the German Enigma coding machines. Machines (or primitive computers) were fighting machines, and teenagers were keeping the machines moving and computing.

By limiting her story to the females who worked at Bletchley, gifted nonfiction author Candace Fleming risks over-emphasizing and even distorting the role that these women and girls played in the overall mission of breaking and intercepting the Nazi communications. But she doesn’t fall into that trap, and instead as I read I was moved to admire the persistence and hard work of these unsung heroines who toiled in harsh conditions doing work that they were unable to discuss or even understand completely. It wasn’t a romantic, spy-novel kind of job. The “bombes” were huge, oily, and loud, and the girls who tended them knew very little about how they worked or what significance their work might have. And after the war was over, the Enigma Girls were still left in the dark about how their work helped England win the war because they and everyone else who worked with them were bound to secrecy by the Official Secrets Acts that they all had to sign. They only knew that they were needed to “do their part” in defeating Hitler—and they did.

The Bletchley Riddle, although it is “based on the real history of Bletchley Park, Britain’s top-secret World War II codebreaking center,” makes the whole setting and story much more exciting and romantic. (Fiction can do that.) Ruta Sepetys and Steve Sheinkin, both well known in YA literature circles, wrote this spy novel together, and the joint authorship shows. It’s a bit disjointed at times, but the two authors do tie up most all of the loose ends by the end of the story. Fourteen year old Lizzie Novis has lost her mother, Willa, a single parent who works for the U.S. Embassy in London. Willa went to Poland to help evacuate tens of U.S. Embassy there in anticipation of the Nazi invasion of Warsaw. And she didn’t come back. Everyone says that Willa is dead, that she most likely died in the invasion. But Lizzie is sure that Willa is still alive, and she’s determined to find her mother no matter what it takes.

I’ll let you read to find out how Lizzie ends up in Bletchley, with several hurried trips back to London. I’ll let you read about Lizzie’s older brother Jakob, and how he becomes the other major character in the story. And finally in the pages of the book, you can meet Lizzie’s new friends, Marion and Colin, and read about a little harmless romance that springs up as they all try to keep up with the irrepressible Lizzie and her quest to find Willa. It’s a book about lying and spying and secret-keeping and persistence in a time and place where all of those qualities, even the dishonesty, are necessary for survival.

But the story never becomes too thoughtful or deep. It’s barely believable that Lizzie can get away with all of the shenanigans that she pulls. And Jakob seems too befuddled to be as intelligent as he’s supposed to be. Maybe he’s a bit of an absent-minded professor at the ripe age of nineteen. Anyway, it’s a lark, but not to be taken seriously. And the minor characters—Alan Turing, Dilly Knox, Gordon Welchman—as well as the setting provide a good introduction to Bletchley Park and its importance to the British war effort and eventual victory.

I recommend both books for those teens who are interested in World War II and Bletchley Park and codes and codebreaking. Oh, both books spend a fair amount time talking about codes and ciphers and Enigma and how it worked and how the Enigma code was broken? Or deciphered? I can never keep the difference straight in my head between codes and ciphers, much decode or decipher anything. But you may have better skills than I do.

Surprised by Oxford by Carolyn Weber

Nov4

I read this memoir conversion story on my Kindle back in 2011 when it first was published. I said then that I enjoyed the story, but it left me feeling . . . incomplete and sort of lacking in understanding. I don’t think I read well on an e-reader, and that may be why I was ambivalent about Surprised By Oxford when I read it back in the day. So, when I heard about the movie that recently came out, based on the book, I thought I’d watch that.

It was a good movie, not great, but solidly good. Now I had to re-read the book that I really didn’t remember much about, since I read it over ten years ago, and since I have a leaky brain. I didn’t review the book back in 2011 when I read it the first time, which is another reason I couldn’t remember much more than a vague impression of possible dissatisfaction or maybe appreciation from my first read through.

The story is deceptively simple: Agnostic Canadian feminist gets a scholarship to Oxford. She is dazzled by the Oxford experience, meets a group of “serious Christians” (and others who are not Christian at all), and eventually becomes a Christian herself. The hook is that Ms. Weber tells the story of her Oxford education and conversion to Christianity with a great deal of poetic language, wordplay, puns, Brit-speak, simile, metaphor, and philosophical thought processes. It’s not always easy to follow Caro, as she is called in the story, as she winds her way through Oxford and through literature to get to Jesus.

The influences in Caro Weber’s conversion are many and varied. There is surprisingly much less C.S. Lewis in the book than I thought there would be. Caro does attend a meeting of the C.S. Lewis Society at one point in the story, but the speaker there talks about joy and prayer rather than about Lewis specifically. Lewis sometimes enters the discussions, but not that often. Her influences seem to be more tilted toward the Romantic poets that she is studying, as well as John Milton, George Herbert, William Blake, and the other students and professors who engage with her in many conversations over the course of a year at Oxford. These conversations, sometimes adversarial, sometimes encouraging, make up most of the book, and they are indeed both surprising and challenging.

There’s also a lot of Caro’s family history in the book. The author has, or had, “daddy issues”, rightly so since her father sounds like a very broken and abusive man. (As far as I can tell, she has since reconciled with her father, who has shown some signs of repentance and change.) Of course the father issues translate to God issues, and a large part of her conversion is due to her coming to understand that God is not like her father.

The book is better than the movie, but also harder to digest. Caro sees metaphors and signs everywhere and in everything, and sometimes the language she uses to describe her thought processes is obscure and difficult to follow, at least to me. If you are more well read than I am, you may understand more clearly. I did enjoy the book more this second time than I did the first time, and I do recommend it to Anglophiles and seekers and lovers of poetry who want to read a Romantic (in the literary sense) memoir.

I would like to read Carolyn Weber’s second book, Holy Is the Day: Living in the Gift of the Present. And maybe her most recent one, Sex and the City of God: A Memoir of Love and Longing?

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Growing Patterns: Fibonacci Numbers in Nature by Sarah C. Campbell

Oct28

What are Fibonacci numbers? Who was Fibonacci? Why does the Fibonacci number pattern appear in sunflowers, pineapples, and even the spirals of a nautilus shell?

This book, illustrated with photographs taken by the author and her husband, Richard Campbell, answers the first question and the second (in the end section, called. “More about Fibonacci Numbers”), but the third question of why remains a mystery. The pattern for Fibonacci sequence is: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13 . . . Each Fibonacci number in the sequence is the sum of the two numbers before it in the pattern. Leonardo Fibonacci was the Italian mathematician who first wrote about this fascinating number pattern.

The book starts out easy with pictures of flowers that display the Fibonacci numbers. The reader is told to count the flower petals, which turn out to be a number equal to one of the numbers in the Fibonacci sequence. Most flowers have a Fibonacci number of petals, although some do not. Then it gets more complicated.

Pinecones, pineapples, and sunflowers also display Fibonacci numbers, but these are found in the number of spirals in the pinecone, or in the center of the sunflower, or in the pineapple skin. I truly had trouble counting and understanding the spirals, even though the photographs were clear and even had the spirals numbered.

Then we get to the growth of the spiral on a nautilus shell. This growth can also be expressed in a Fibonacci number sequence. I think I understood this one, but it’s complicated and might be hard to explain to children. I’m not sure the book does an adequate job of explaining (or maybe I just didn’t do a great job of understanding).

I would pair this book with the picture book biography, Blockhead: the Life of Fibonacci by Joseph D’Agnese. Blockhead tells the story of how Fibonacci discovered the numbers sequence that is now named for him as well as popularized the use of Arabic numerals in the West. Even though people thought he was a head-in-the-clouds blockhead, Leonardo Fibonacci is now known as the “greatest Western mathematician of the Middle Ages.”

These two books together give a much more enlightening introduction to Fibonacci numbers than does either book on its own. The photographs in the first book, Growing Patterns, are vivid and helpfully labeled and numbered. The story of Fibonacci’s mathematical obsession and the diagrams that illustrate the numerical sequence are good for creating more interest and for helping children (and adult like me) understand the fun of finding and counting Fibonacci numbers. After reading both books, you could spend a lot of time discovering Fibonacci numbers in nature: in flowers, lemons, apples, leaves, shells, waves and other natural and even man-made objects. Or you could let your children discover more of these numbers for themselves after you have introduced them using these picture books, if they are interested. Spread the feast and see who partakes of the wonder.

Home on the Range by Deborah Hopkinson

Oct24

Home on the Range: John A. Lomax and His Cowboy Songs by Deborah Hopkinson. Illustrated by S.D. Schindler. G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 2009.

“John Avery Lomax grew up singing. Why, he probably knew more folk songs, tunes, and ballads than there were cattle in the great state of Texas.”

John A. Lomax was an “ethnomusicologist”. In layman’s terms, picture book language, that’s a collector of folk songs. He’s of special interest to me, a Texas girl, because he collected cowboy and western folk songs, many of them songs of Texas. John Lomax was a Texas boy, born in Mississippi, but raised in good old Texas. Deborah Hopkinson’s book tells the story of how Mr. Lomax became a folk song collector and how he recorded thousands of folk songs that might be lost to history if not for his work. Lomax’s book Cowboy Songs and Frontier Ballads, published in 1910, helped to preserve songs such as “Git Along, Little Dogies” and “Sweet Betsy from Pike” and of course, the titular song for this book, “Home on the Range.”

The book chronicles the studies and travels of the peripatetic John Lomax and his son Alan who also became a well-known ethnomusicologist. Scattered throughout the biographical material are the lyrics, or at least partial lyrics, to many of the songs that the Lomaxes collected. Unfortunately, unless you already know the songs included, you’ll have to look them up somewhere to find the rest of the lyrics to the song and the tunes. But on YouTube you can find the likes of Gene Autry and Roy Rogers and Johnny Cash and Burl Ives and others singing these old cowboy songs. Some of the songs that are alluded to:

S.D. Schindler’s illustrations that accompany Ms. Hopkinson’s fine text are first-rate. I especially liked the beautiful two page spread of cowboys in a Fort Worth saloon, where Lomax attempts to get them to sing into his “large recording horn.” There’s also a two page spread illustration of John’s classmates at the University of Texas, transformed into cowboys, and even one cowgirl, sitting around the campfire listening to Lomax sing the old songs of the West.

In the end notes to the book, Hopkinson tells readers that many of these songs, including “Home on the Range,” were thought by John Lomax to be folk songs of unknown origin, but some of them indeed had specific lyricists and composers.

“After the song (Home on the Range) became popular in the 1930’s, an Arizona couple claimed to have written it in 1905. Eventually, the song was traced to two Kansas men, Brewster Higley and Daniel E. Kelly, who wrote it in 1873. Finding the origins of songs can be difficult!”

Anyway, whoever wrote these songs, they belong to all of us now, and we can be thankful for John A. Lomax who recorded and preserved them for us to enjoy and for Deborah Hopkinson and S.D. Schindler who were also preservationists, giving us this lovely picture book biography of a pioneer musicologist and his work to save all of the old cowboy songs.

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Creekfinding: A True Story by Jacqueline Briggs Martin and Claudia McGehee

Oct18

Once there was a creek in northeast Iowa that got covered up by a cornfield. Then, a guy named Mike bought the land and anted to bring the creek back. But it took a lots of planning and work and rocks and dirt and plants and insects and birds and fish—and even some big earth-moving machines–to revive the creek and make a place for Brook Creek to flourish and nourish both people and wildlife.

“If you went to the creek with Mike, you’d see the water. But a creek isn’t just water. You’d see brook trout and sculpin. You’d hear the outdoor orchestra—herons, snipe, bluebirds, yellowthroat warblers; frogs returned home; and insects–thousands, and thousands, and thousands of insects.”

I’m not much of an outdoors girl. But I did find this true story of how Mike Osterholm, who is “passionate about the prairie, cold water streams, brook trout, and partnering with the earth,” decided to revive the creek that once flowed through his land and how he did it, a fascinating one. The implication in the book, never stated, is that a cornfield is of lesser value or “earth-friendliness” than a brook full of trout. I’m not so sure about that. But a brook was what Mike wanted, just as the farmer who owned the land before him wanted a cornfield, and I liked reading about how it all came about.

The illustrations by artist Claudia McGehee, are all “prairie greens, creek blues,” yellows and browns, nature colors. Etched out in scratchboard and then painted, the pictures are evocative of a wild natural world restored, and they do add to the text a certain earthy feeling that couldn’t be achieved by words alone. It’s a beautiful book, and for this indoor girl, it makes me actually want to find a creek or a brook or some sort of running water to sit beside and observe. That’s a sign of a well done nature picture book.

This book was recommended to me by Sandy Spencer Hall of Hall’s Living Library. It would be a good addition to a Charlotte Mason-style nature study read aloud time, best served next to flowing water—or perhaps in a cornfield?

Across So Many Seas by Ruth Behar

Oct17

Across So Many Seas, the story of four twelve year old Sephardic Jewish girls from different time periods, felt very . . . educational. I didn’t mind the didactic tone of the story, and I was somewhat fascinated by the saga of the Sephardic Jewish experience from Spain to Turkey to Cuba to the United States (Miami). We tend to know and read more about Ashkenazi, Eastern European Jews and Judaism than we do about the Sephardic Jewish people, who came from Spain after the 1492 expulsion of the Jews under King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella (yes, Columbus’s sponsors). These Sephardic Jews spoke a Spanish-derived language called Ladino and either became conversos (converts to Catholicism) under threat of death, or left Spain as refugees, going to Italy and Turkey and other places to find freedom to practice their Jewish faith.

The first story in Across So Many Seas features Benvenida, a Jewish girl living in Toledo, Spain in 1492, during the Spanish Inquisition and the expulsion of the Jews. Benvenida’s family is forced to leave Spain, and they end up living in Turkey where the sultan has promised them freedom of religion. Again the story feels as if the author has a lesson to teach: “Here’s a story, children, to teach you about your history and heritage. Listen, while I make it into a tale for your edification.” Benvenida, who speaks and thinks like a miniature adult, never seems like a real person, only a vehicle for the teaching of history. But still, I was interested enough in the history to keep reading.

The other three girls in the story are Reina (Turkey, 1921), Alegra (Cuba, 1961), and Paloma (Miami, FL, 2003). These three are grandmother, mother, and daughter, and their tales are full of more displacement and emigration, as each girl experiences her own story of travel across the seas. Only Paloma seems to have a stable home where she can make free choices for herself without having to labor under the prejudice of others and the expectations that her family has for proper Jewish girls.

The author, Ruth Behar, comes from both Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jewish ancestry. The book is based in part on the story of Ms. Behar’s Abuela, her paternal grandmother, who came to the United States via Turkey and Cuba and who was of Sephardic heritage. It’s a lovely tribute to Ms. Behar’s heritage and to her grandmother, and I enjoyed learning more about this stream of history. But be warned that the book is heavy on the history and light on believable characterization, dialogue, and plot.

The Silver Donkey by Sonya Hartnett

Oct15

It’s easy, almost inescapable, to find children’s books set before, during and after World War II–fiction, adventure stories, Holocaust stories, biography, memoir, nonfiction about battles and about the home front. I have about three shelves full of World War II books. But when I am asked to recommend books about or set during World War I, the task is harder. There are some good books about World War I, fiction and nonfiction, even picture books, but that war just doesn’t live in our collective imaginations in the same way that World War II does.

Someone recommended The Silver Donkey to me, and I thought, what with the comparative dearth of books set during that war in comparison to the Second World War, I’d add it to my library. Sonya Hartnett, the author, is an Australian writer. Her books, mostly written for children and young adults, have won numerous awards and prizes, including for the author the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award from the Swedish Arts Council in 2008, a sort of lifetime achievement award in children’s literature. Knowing all of this, I was primed to enjoy The Silver Donkey.

And enjoy it I did. However, I must say that it’s an odd sort of book. Two sisters who live on coast of the English Channel (do the French call it the French Channel?) in France, find a man lying in the forest who appears to be dead. The sisters, Marcelle, age 10, and Coco, age 8, are deliciously thrilled with their discovery, brimming with “anticipation and glee.” Their response feels very French, and somewhat true to the nature of children. As they approach the man, they find that he is not dead, but merely sleeping. He also tells them that he cannot see.

Marcelle and Coco have found a British deserter who wants nothing more than to go home across the Channel, to see his family, especially his younger brother who the soldier believes is calling to him to come home. Marcelle and Coco, and later their brother Pascal, find a way in their childish simplicity to help the soldier by bringing him food and eventually by discovering means for him to cross the Channel to England. In return for their help, and to pass the time, the soldier tells the children stories–stories about donkeys.

These are not perfect children, nor are they role models. They take food from the family larder and lie to their parents about what has happened to the food. They keep secrets. They aid and abet an army deserter, and they squabble with one another. They are somewhat ghoulish; Pascal in particular wants stories about war and battles and violence and heroism. The donkeys in the stories are more admirable. The first story the soldier tells is about a faithful old donkey who takes the expectant Mary to Bethlehem for the census and brings her and her baby home safely. The second story is about a humble donkey whose humility saves the world from a terrible drought. And the war story that Pascal begs for ends up being about a donkey who carries the wounded to safety in the midst of battle–at the cost of his own life.

The whole book is bittersweet. The heroes are all fictional donkeys. The children are funny and very human; somehow they feel as if they could only be French children with a sort of French attitude toward life. The soldier is a hero who calls himself a coward, and he is both brave and tired, tired of war. He is so tired that he decides one day, after having fought courageously in the war for a year or more, to leave the battlefront and walk home. His blindness seems to be a psychosomatic response to the horrors of war.

I wouldn’t recommend this book for younger readers, but for children thirteen and older it might be a good introduction to the controversies surrounding the entirety of World War I. Was it a wasteful stalemate of a war, initiated and perpetuated by old men who sent young men to die for no reason? Is honor worth fighting for? Should a soldier be like the donkey, brave and humble and faithful, or are humans called to be more discerning and wise than donkeys can be? What is the proper response to a war or to a soldier who has abdicated his responsibility in a war? These are certainly questions for older children and adults to think about, and The Silver Donkey gives rise to thought and discussion about questions of this sort.

The donkey stories are the best parts of the book, though.

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

The Tenth Mistake of Hank Hooperman by Gennifer Choldenko

Oct7

When I first started reading The Tenth Mistake of Hank Hooperman, I thought, “Oh, no! Not another condescending middle grade fiction book full of bathroom humor!” On the very first page, we find out that eleven year old Hank, who is trying to potty train his little sister, Boo, would prefer his sister called him “Superman”. Instead, her affectionate nickname for her beloved older brother is “Pooperman.” However, Boo’s nickname for Hank turns out to be about the only “potty humor” in the book, and precocious little Boo is a delightful breath of freshness and innocence in a book that otherwise deals with some heavy subjects.

A week ago, Hank’s single mom left him in charge of Boo in an apartment with very little food or money. Hank has taken care of himself and Boo so far with no major errors, but now they are completely out of food and money. And the apartment manager is threatening to evict them. With no family to turn to and no idea where his mom could be, Hank takes Boo across town to the home of a stranger that his mom once mentioned. It may be a level 10 mistake, but what else can he do?

The stranger, Lou Ann Adler, turns out to be an old friend of Hank’s dead grandmother, and she takes them in–for now. But Hank has to find his mom, figure out why she abandoned them, and decide whether or not he can trust her to take of him and Boo in the future. Hank is a good kid, hyper-responsible, and deeply afraid of making a mistake that will ruin their lives. I won’t spoil the story, but there is a positive, hopeful ending, after a lot of trauma, anxiety, and dangerous situations have been resolved.

The Tenth Mistake of Hank Hooperman reminded me a bit of Gary B. Schmidt’s novels Okay for Now and Just Like That. All three of these books show good kids thrown into situations that are way too hard for their maturity levels. And in all three books the kids, the boys, are desperately trying to figure out what to do about their situation and which adults to trust. I’m not sure Choldenko is quite as good as Schmidt at showing the nuances and complexities of the situation, but she’s not bad. Hank Hooperman is a good, believable character, and I really, really sympathized with his plight and his desire to avoid both small and catastrophic mistakes.

Cautions: There’s an ongoing thread about Boo’s potty training, including the words “crap” and “poop”. Hank engages in a major deception, for what seem like good reasons at the time, and he pays the consequences. A female friend at Hank’s new school wants to be his girlfriend, and his male friends tease him about the possibility of kissing her.

I would recommend this one for sixth grade and up. The story portrays positive models of compassionate adult behavior as well as the fact that not all adults are trustworthy. Hank himself is a character to root for, even though he does make mistakes and wrong choices.

“Why doesn’t someone invent a way to know if you’re about to make a mistake? A Mistake-a-nator that would light up red if you’re about to mess up. I could use one of those.”