Do you know the Great Truth and the Central Secret of the British Empire? Probably not, if you’re human like me, so here it is:
FOR EVERY JOB A HUMAN HOLDS, THERE IS A MOUSE WITH THE SAME JOB, AND DOING IT BETTER.
So, there are needlemice and coachmice and guard mice–all sorts of mice, each with his or her own job, mirroring that of the humans who live in the houses, and palaces, of England. Unfortunately for the protagonist of this story, although he is a mouse, he is a very small mouse with no job and no name. Some of the other mice call him Mouse Minor because he is so small, but that’s not really a name. And our narrator has something of an identity crisis: he’s full of questions and gets very few answers from his aunty, Head Needlemouse Marigold.
I loved that fact that this book is full of repetitive motifs and running gags and just gentle humor. The mouse world itself is delightful to explore. Set down in the secret, hidden pockets of Victorian England where Queen Victoria is about to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee: Sixty Years Upon the Throne, the mice study in schools, sew costumes and uniforms, pledge service to the Queen, and generally keep themselves hidden from but indispensable to humans. When Mouse Minor asks about his name, he is told several times that “Nameless is Blameless”, as if that settles the question. His tail, shaped like a question mark, emphasizes all of the questions that Mouse Minor entertains and asks incessantly of himself and of everyone else. Not that he gets any answers–until the end of the story.
Illustrator Kelly Murphy is the same artist who illustrated Elise Broach’s Masterpiece, another book about a tiny creature in a human-sized world, and her illustrations are detailed, vivid, and uite a complement to the story. Note particularly page 121, “a fall from this height would do me in”: Mouse Minor is in the foreground of the picture, being dangled by some unknown flying creature from a great height above a human ballroom where tiny human dancers are bowing and dancing in courtly fashion. Then on page 140, we get to view an illustration of Queen Victoria herself, in all her (faded) glory.
I definitely recommend this book for a Cybils nomination.
What’s Out Space Travel:The Prince Who Fell from the Sky by John Claude Bemis sort of fits into this genre, but it’s really more about a journey with talking animals through a dystopian future world. Gary Schmidt’s What Came from the Stars is more of a high fantasy combined with an encounter between good and evil than it is about exploring outer space. Circus Galacticus by Deva Fagan is the only real space travel book of the lot that I can remember.
I liked the second book better than I did the first, I think. Children who like puzzles and magic tricks would really find this book and its prequel, Horten’s Miraculous Mechanisms, quite compelling.
I just wanted more character development, more reasons to like or at least sympathize with the children in the two stories. Stuart is short, curious, and persistent. The triplets are annoying, and I had trouble telling them apart, even though I get the names attached in print. I couldn’t remember which one was which, so they all three felt annoying.
The puzzles are good and appropriate for ten and eleven year olds—which is not to say that I could have solved them myself. Sometimes it takes a child to solve a child’s puzzle. Anyway, for budding magicians and illusionists, Horten’s two books (so far) would be the perfect summer, or anytime, read.
For my Cybils judging responsibilities this year I read 84 of the 151 books nominated. I still have more that I would like to read in the next couple of months. Of those 84, these are my twelve favorites:
Princess Academy Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale. The only one of these favorites I didn’t get around to reviewing, but it’s Shannon Hale and it’s wonderful. I closed the book at the end with a happy and satisfied sigh.
The shortlists of Cybils finalists for 2012 in all of the categories are posted today at the Cybils website. Take a look and add to your reading list from these well-written, high kid-appeal books for young adults and children–all published between November 2011 and October 2012.
Children: “you must never ever light a fire yourself, unless under the close supervision of a responsible adult pig with advanced circus training.” Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan by R.A. Spratt.
“[P]eople run deep and complicated like rivers, hold their shape and are carved upon like stone.” Crossed by Ally Condie.
“Listen to your second thought, or the third might be too late.†Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale.
“Truth is when your gut and your mind agree.” Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale.
“Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff. Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.†Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale.
“An idea is like fire under ice. You can try to put out the fire, but the melting has already begun.” Palace of Stone by Shannon Hale.
“Once someone is picking a lock, there’s not a lot you can do except stand in front of them to block them from view and whistle. . . Whistling is probably optional.” ~Project Jackalope by Emily Ecton.
“If one does not know how one will cross a bridge, one best figure that out before one reaches it. Otherwise, it is just poor planning.” ~Beauty and the Beast by Wendy Mass.
“[N]ot everyone who lives on a pretty street is a good person, and . . . even in the rottenest places you might find someone you can trust with your life.” ~Deadweather and Sunrise by Geoff Rodkey.
“Youth is overrated. Anyone can be a genius at twenty-five. The trick is to be one at fifty.” Degas in Mira’s Diary: Lost in Paris by Marissa Moss.
“All mirrors are magic, or can be. They show you yourself, after all. Really seeing yourself, though–that’s the hard part.” ~In a Glass Grimmly by Adam Gidwitz.
“There are other ways to be brave without demonstrating it with the sword. Most battles are won by changing minds and turning hearts. Sometimes that’s all the bravery you need.” Iron Hearted Violet by Kelly Barnhill.
“A real princess engages with the world in a state of grace. It is with grace that she listens and with grace that she speaks. A princess loves her people , no matter what their birth or station. Even ugly jailers.” Iron Hearted Violet by Kelly Barnhill.
“Love [is] sharp and hot and dangerous. . . Love transforms our fragile, cowardly hearts into hearts of stone, hearts of blade, hearts of hardest iron. Because love makes heroes of us all.” Iron Hearted Violet by Kelly Barnhill.
“It is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love.” ~Gandalf in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.
“You get the face you build your whole life, with work and loving and grieving and laughing and frowning.” ~The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There by Catherine Valente.
“Sometimes the best decision is a painful one, but it is never one made out of anger.” ~Starry River of the Sky by Grace Lin.
“It is better to light a lantern than to bemoan the darkness.” ~Starry River of the Sky by Grace Lin.
“The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves–say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
As for methods of prayer, all are good, as long as they are sincere. ~Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
I once tried reading The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde, but both the plot and the humor eluded my grasp. I did better, or Mr. Fforde did, with The Last Dragonslayer. The humor in this book reminded me of The Princess Bride or Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. High praise indeed.
Almost-sixteen-year-old Jennifer Strange is temporary manager of Kazam Mystical Arts Management, an employment agency for sorcerers, magicians, and wizards, most of whom are almost out of “wizidrical” energy. Magic has been waning in the UnUnited Kingdoms for the last four hundred years, give or take, since the initiation of the Dragon Pact. The dragon population has also been dwindling, and now the kingdoms are down to one last dragon. And one last dragon-slayer.
I think this book will appeal more to teens and young adults rather than middle grade readers. The humor is wry and witty and based on making fun of human materialism, greed, and warlike tendencies. Jennifer, the protagonist, does a lot of running around trying to figure out what’s happening and how she can manage the magical events that are mostly out of her control. Other than that, not much really happens. But it is funny. As a sidekick Jennifer sports a Quarkbeast, a “ferocious beast” who looks like “an open knife drawer on legs” and whose only line is “Quark,” spoken at appropriate intervals. And the book also features aging wizards and dragons in various stages of decrepitude and disrepute, a crazy, greedy king, and a Slayermobile (Rolls-Royce). What else could a reader ask for? I can picture this book as a movie. Maybe it’s already been optioned.
Two more books are coming in the series, The Chronicles of Kazam, The Song of the Quarkbeast and The Return of Shandar. The Song of the Quarkbeast has already been published in the UK, but it’s not yet available in the United States. I’m looking forward to reading both of them.
Pirates and treasure and ugly fruit and heroes and islands and ocean adventure, oh, my! Yeah, it doesn’t quite have the rhythm and swing I’d like it to have, and neither does this book. But for a pirate story aficionado, Deadweather and Sunrise might do the trick.
Deadweather and Sunrise is billed as Book 1 of the Chronicles of Egg. In the story, the aforementioned Egg lives on Deadweather Island with his abusive father and two siblings who also mistreat him. They all live together on an ugly fruit plantation until on a trip to nearby Sunrise Island, Egg’s family disappears and Egg is left in the care of the very rich Pembroke family: mother, father, and spoiled, sheltered daughter, Millicent. Egg crushes on Millicent; someone tries to kill Egg, and the adventure begins.
There’s a possible treasure to be found, and there are pirates, either to defeat or to enlist as allies. Not everything or everyone is to be taken at face value. As Egg very wisely learns, “”[N]ot everyone who lives on a pretty street is a good person, and . . . even in the rottenest places you might find someone you can trust with your life.”
I think this book might be one of those things that shouldn’t be immediately devalued or written off. The story has potential not only to “grow on” the reader with time for reflection but also to get even better in the next book(s) in the series. Egg’s supporting cast is made up of thieves and rogues and mostly unreliable people, but Egg himself is a kind of Oliver Twist character transported to a mythical South Sea island world.
Recommend to those who like pirate stories, Dickensian fantasy worlds, or poverty-stricken boy heroes.
There are (at least) two approaches to the recasting of old tales for children–anything from fairy tales to Chaucer to Shakespeare to even the stories of the Bible. Because these stories were not necessarily written (or told) for children, they sometimes contain dark, very dark, material –blood and violence and illicit sex and senseless mayhem and other things that are just nasty or repulsive and not terribly uplifting or useful to educate or grow or even entertain young minds.
Of course, if an author wants to re-tell a story that contains disturbing elements for a young audience, it can be bowdlerized. “Thomas Bowdler was an English physician and philanthropist, best known for publishing The Family Shakspeare, an expurgated edition of William Shakespeare’s work, edited by his sister Henrietta Maria Bowdler, intended to be more appropriate for 19th century women and children than the original.” (Wikipedia, Thomas Bowdler) Bowdlerization has been denigrated, unjustifiably in my opinion, but it’s done all the time. As Mr. Gidwitz says in his introduction to In a Glass Grimmly, “Once upon a time, fairy tales were horrible. . . strange, bloody, and horrible.” And almost all of the storytellers since then have downplayed or bowdlerized the bloody, gruesome, unpalatable parts of the fairy tales they were telling—for the sake of the children and even the adults who are reading.
Some would say that the older the audience the more unjustified the omissions and changes are. However, an author or storyteller who is spinning his own story made up of elements of old tales has the right to pick and choose the elements he thinks will make for the strongest and most artistic story. Some of the darker elements, especially for an older audience, may make the story stronger and more meaningful or they may just make it it stupid or repugnant, as in the example that Mr. Gidwitz also shares of how Cinderella’s step-sisters actually sliced off parts their feet to make them fit into the glass slipper. I can’t imagine how that little detail would improve the story unless you’re doing a meditation on self-injury and cutting.
So, anyway, one direction to go is to cut out the nasty parts. The other approach is to play up the nastiness: describe in great and excruciating detail how Jack the giant killer eviscerated the giant and just how the blood and vomit mixed on the floor and how utterly revolting and disgusting the entire scene was. Use phrases such as “the steaming, putrid pool rippled” or “spilling his blood and viscera and porridge” or “a burbling swamp of (stomach) acid” (actual phrases from In a Glass Grimmly, and not the most revolting ones), and maybe because you used descriptive, mature vocabulary words in your middle grade fantasy novel, people will ooh and aah and say how well-written the novel is.
In a Glass Grimmly takes the well-written but disgusting approach, and not to good effect. I waded, or at least skimmed, through all the blood and vomit in giant-land, and I was not impressed. The descriptions are vivid, and I suppose, well-written, but the chapters are sort of disconnected, and the narrator is intrusive and annoying. I hate books that seem to say, “Oh, kids like gross, nasty, slimy stuff. Let’s take the really loathsome parts of this tale and make them the centerpiece of the narrative because that will draw the kids in.”
There was a bit of redeeming value towards the end of the book, but it wasn’t enough to make up for all the gratuitous blood, gore, guts, and puke that came before. When the narrator actually says, “Ooooh, you won’t like this part. You might want to put the book down now,” then it’s supposed to make me feel contrary enough to go ahead and read anyway? It’s kind of like saying, “I double dog dare you!” But it made me feel SO contrary that I wanted to close the book immediately because I knew the author/narrator didn’t really want me to quit reading. I think many (most?) kids are smart enough to get the same message.
About the only thing I did enjoy while reading In a Glass Grimmly was trying to figure out which fairy tale each part of the story came from, but I thought it meandered quite a bit. And it isn’t the “darkness” of the book or of its original sources that I’m complaining about. Guts and vomit aren’t really dark; they’re just foul and I think, pandering.
If this review makes you want to read the book even more than you did before, you are the intended audience. Have fun.
“In most fairy tales, princesses are beautiful, dragons are terrifying, and stories are harmless. This isn’t most fairy tales.”
What a terrible, transformative, true (in the best sense of the word) book.
Iron Hearted Violet is a story about an ugly but beloved princess who lives in a “mirrored world” where for time immemorial the thirteenth-god-who-is-never-named-aloud has been imprisoned for the protection of the multiverse from his destructive and evil tendencies. However, Violet’s world, and indeed the entire multiverse, created by the other twelve gods, is in imminent danger of being taken over by the evil Nybbas (who should never be named).
It’s a story about sin and pride and the desire for power and worship of ourselves and also about love and loyalty and true beauty. The book dares to say things that are counter-cultural and also run counter to the usual fantasy tale tropes:
“There are other ways to be brave without demonstrating it with the sword. Most battles are won by changing minds and turning hearts. Sometimes that’s all the bravery you need.”
“A real princess engages with the world in a state of grace. It is with grace that she listens and with grace that she speaks. A princess loves her people, no matter what their birth or station. Even ugly jailers.”
“Love [is] sharp and hot and dangerous. . . Love transforms our fragile, cowardly hearts into hearts of stone, hearts of blade, hearts of hardest iron. Because love makes heroes of us all.”
This book has a “Hobbit feel” to it, not in the plot or the characters (although there is a dragon), but in the flow of the story and in its moral universe and in its message. Small, unlovely things and people can have great significance. In fact, an ugly princess and her stable-boy best friend and an old, fear-filled dragon might be both the betrayers and the saviors of the world.
Two things I didn’t like about the book:
1. The pictures of Violet in the beginning of the book and on the cover, where she is supposed to be ugly, show a cute little girl with beautiful curly hair and lovely features. She is described:
“Her left eye was visibly larger than her right. . . Her nose pugged, her forehead was too tall, and even when she was just a baby, her skin was freckled and blotched, and no number of milk baths or lemon rubs could unmark her. People remarked about her lack of beauty.”
Just as it happens in the story itself when the storyteller/narrator tells Violet to make her story princesses beautiful to please the listeners, the illustrator (or someone) couldn’t resist making Violet pretty instead of showing her in all her asymmetrical, wild, and unattractive glory.
2. The impotence and limited-ness of “the gods.” There are twelve gods in this story who are said to have created the multiverse and saved it from deadly peril, but are now remote, removed and “still learning.” These gods are not omnipotent, not omniscient, and actually rather like benevolent gods of a clockwork multiverse, set in motion and left to function on its own. One of the gods, the “runty god”, does intervene but in a rather ineffective way.
Nevertheless, those two failings are outweighed by far by the lovely story-telling and surprising plot developments and outstanding characters and themes of Iron Hearted Violet. I recommend it for lovers of fantasy and princess books.
I really like Diane Stanley’s beautifully written and illustrated picture book biographies of famous historical figures such as Joan of Arc, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Peter the Great and others. And Brown Bear Daughter and I both enjoyed her fairy tale fantasy Cinderella story, Bella at Midnight. But The Cup and the Crown, a sequel to The Silver Bowl (which I haven’t read), just wasn’t up to snuff in comparison to the biographies or to Bella.
Molly’s friend King Alaric asks her to find a Loving Cup for him, a magical cup with the “power to bind two souls together for life, to bless their children and their children’s children down through the generations.” He needs the cup to make a neighboring princess fall in love with him and thereby gain a strategic alliance for the kingdom. Strike one against this story. I didn’t care if Molly ever found the cup or not, given the rather mercenary purpose of her quest.
Molly, accompanied by several friends and companions, travels to the north in search of the cup, and lead by a magical raven, they discover a hidden city where no one is allowed to enter lest they give the secret location of the rich and powerful city of Harrowsgode. But Molly is allowed in by an inhabitant who should know better, and then she is imprisoned so that she can never leave and give away the secret. Strike two. Why did Master Pieter let Molly in? Even more to the point, why did Master Pieter let her friend Tobias in when he knew that Tobias’ life would be forfeit?
Then, by hard work and a little magic, Molly and Tobias manage to escape, someone makes them a Loving Cup, and they all live happily ever after—maybe. Strike three. I made it all the way through the book, but I was not rewarded with a very satisfying ending. I think there’s a third book in the series yet to come.
So, there are needlemice and coachmice and guard mice–all sorts of mice, each with his or her own job, mirroring that of the humans who live in the houses, and palaces, of England. Unfortunately for the protagonist of this story, although he is a mouse, he is a very small mouse with no job and no name. Some of the other mice call him Mouse Minor because he is so small, but that’s not really a name. And our narrator has something of an identity crisis: he’s full of questions and gets very few answers from his aunty, Head Needlemouse Marigold.
