The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman

I had no idea what I was getting into when I started book one of Pullman's "Dark Materials". I'm glad I didn't know, or I might not have picked them up. As I sit anxiously awaiting the magic hour when I can go pick up the third book from the library, I thought I'd jot down my thoughts.

Philip Pullman is a master of fantasy. While I struggled initially with the language in book one, book two clarified many things for me. In book one I had no idea what half of the places were - countries I had never heard of. I thought perhaps if I looked in an old atlas I would find some of the names listed as original region names, but I wasn't sure. Nonetheless, I fell head over heels into the story and didn't "return to Williamsburg" for a few days. Then I was swept away by the second book. I have never been so torn as to whose side to root for. On the one hand, the hero and heroine are obvious choices, but are they really trying to help destroy God? As a strong believer in God, I can't cheer for them! Yet, the church can be so wicked and evil and they continue to be in the book - how can I possibly root for them? My hope for book three is that the church and God are teased apart and that the heroes defeat the church, but that God is preserved and a new establishment with less man-power and corruption is begun. I realize this is supposed to be "dark" and it surely is, but a little light at the end, is that too much to hope for?

Lincoln A Photobiography by Russell Freedman

I was so impressed by this book! As a child I loved biographies and read The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin three times (pretty nerdy, I know). But as an adult, I find biographies harder to get into and far less interesting. This book made me realize the problem. I love biographies written for children. They are full of interesting facts and easy to read. I don't have to work too hard to make the connections to what I know and I still come away with a better understanding of the person I was reading about. The adult versions are full of wonderful complex language and connections, and in the little time I have to read before I fall asleep, I don't have the energy to make those connections. I end up frustrated and anything but relaxed.

Lincoln A Photobiography is an easy read full of interesting facts about Lincoln before and while he was president. I knew he came from a poor family and was largely self-educated, but not much else. His story is so interesting! I also never thought about how long he was president before the Civil War broke out. In all my childhood imaginings of the Missouri Compromise and Kansas-Nebraska Act, he was president. Of course, this was not so.

For anyone interested in history, young or old, this is a fantastic book and I highly recommend it!

Bug Dictionary An A to Z of Insects and Creepy Crawlies

There are few things that I find more disgusting than bugs. And yet, after reading Joyful Noise, I find myself a little more willing to learn more about these little critters. Thus, Bug Dictionary. The book opens with a brief overview about bugs, where they live, how they are grouped and about their life cycle. As the reader moves into the dictionary section, each letter of the alphabet has a page or two with one to ten examples of bugs beginning with that sound. For each bug the name is highlighted and a description is given, as well as a picture and a size comparison symbol. This symbol is either an eye or a hand. Below the symbol is a shadow of the insect and the measurement of the insect or its wingspan. This helps the children to see just how big or small each bug actually is. Additionally,the colorful illustrations are detailed without being frightening. The book ends with a glossary and index.

Bug Dictionary is a wonderful tool for children to use during a bug unit, when they find a bug they have never seen before, or to help them learn dictionary skills. The simple text with a smattering of scientific words invites readers to learn about each insect in a context they can understand and appreciate. For example,
"Ladybug 0.3 in. (7.6 mm)
Under its hard red wing cases, the ladybug has a pair of larger, more delicate wings. Ladybugs and their larvae are useful insects because they have a huge appetite for aphids and other pests. Their colorful bodies warn enemies that they taste awful. If the ladybug is faced with a dangerous enemy, it will squeeze out foul-smelling fluid from its knees." (p. 31)

As you can see, this text is easy to follow, inviting and interesting. A child unfamiliar with aphids can find a description located in the A section. An illustration is provided of the ladybug with its wings open showing both sets of wings and the body beneath.

I look forward to using this book throughout the spring and summer to learn more about some of the unique bugs that we find. I think my six year old will benefit from the early dictionary skills as well. What a lucky find!

Joyful Noise Poems for Two Voices by Paul Fleischman

I must confess the idea of this book did not excite me at all. Poetry is not my favorite genre and I find bugs revolting - especially the hummingbird size bugs of Virginia. My first taste of Virginia bugs was the wasp - a not so friendly fellow, at least three times the size of those in NY and RI, who stung me on the throat. That was my welcome to VA five years ago. I still haven't forgiven that creature. Nevertheless, I asked my husband to join me in reading this book last night and was shocked that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Admittedly, not even the sad story of the Wasp could warm my heart to them, but I have a whole new appreciation for Mayflies - a significant foe in the Adirondacks of NY where we hike every summer. Our trips are scheduled around their anticipated arrival and departure. The poor little guys, they only live one day. "Your trifling day" "Our life". How sad! I still won't be going hiking with them, but they have reminded me to appreciate how precious one day really is. I also loved the image of fireflies as artists. "Light is the ink we use" "Night is our parchment" I never thought of them that way, but in hindsight it seems so obvious. Their magic attracts the youngest child and the oldest man, but rarely is their beauty regarded as art. Other stories were funny - Book Lice, a love story; The Moth's Serenade, another love story with a lightbulb (yes, a very brief romance); and House Crickets, living near the "bright blue pilot light". The two perspectives of Honeybees was so poignant. Having worked in a factory where the work is backbreaking and then having stood in a classroom doing what I love, I can fully appreciate this dicotomy. Without the factory worker, I wouldn't have paper to write on or read from in my classroom, but I rarely think about that. I should. Much more often.

I Have Seen Castles by Cynthia Rylant

What an amazing book - and what a perfect time in history to read it. "We deceive ourselves into believing we can clean up the enemy, put him back in his place, and have our chicken parmigiana another night. Soon."(p. 16) "And I think we all finally, deeply, understood that we were at war. And that our side might not win." (p. 43) Are these not some of our hopes and fears today? I suppose such feelings are universal in war times. Most books about war share the same themes - fear, loss, anger, and lost love. From the adult book Finding Julia to the children's book Shades of Gray, the emotions are the same. I have no doubt the books written about the war in Iraq will have the same universal themes as well.

I was struck by John's feelings of isolation from his family and the rest of society while in the war and after it was over. He says, "...the longer we all fought, the more commonality we found with each other [enemy soldiers]...and the less we found in common with the rest of the world..." (p. 82) In the end, John must leave America to be in "the company of people whose hands still shook" (p. 95) and who shared the same fears, memories, and anxieties. My heart ached for him and for soldiers everywhere who have returned and continue to return from wartorn countries only to be surrounded by people who have never in their lifetime seen blood shed on their soil, heard bombs explode in their neighborhoods - how immature and naive we all must seem!

Once again Cynthia Rylant has amazed me with her ability to draw you into the story and spit you out at the end with new perspectives, emotional connections, and understandings.

Missing May by Cynthia Rylant

What a sad story! As I read this book about a girl, who's suffered so much loss in her life already, who's beloved aunt and guardian dies, I was struck over and over with the injustice of life. How is it that a child could face loss after loss and still keep going? Having read Rylant's memoir, But I'll Be Back Again, I was not surprised to see the parallels to Rylant's own life. While her story was very different, her experience of loss and her expectations of life after that loss were very similar. I wonder how universal the belief that the "happily ever after" is not for you is among those who suffer trajic losses in childhood. Summer refers again and again to her inability to believe everything will be ok just as Rylant says she would never learn that "it would be all right for me to have a house that smelled like chocolate-covered marshmallow cookies." (p. 32) Rylant suggests that "Children who suffer great loss often grow up believing deep inside that life is suppoed to be hard for them." (p. 54) I felt like this was a theme in Missing May. Summer marvels at Cletus's lack of concern about his parent's age and ailments, as she fights her doubts and fears about Ob's health. She just can't believe that it will all be ok. The innocence of childhood is so fragile. Once a child has seen the truth of loss and injustice, there is no going back. You can't recreate that innocence. But there is always hope - as Cinderella reminds us: it's never too late for happily ever after.

Messenger by Lois Lowery

After finishing The Giver, I had to read this book. Once again, Lowery's ability to pull the reader into the story and not let go kept me up late and gave me too much to think about. The story is of a boy who lives in Village with an old man who is blind named Seer. The name a person has reflects his position in the community and young Matty is very anxious to recieve the name Messesnger soon. But something is happening in Village. Something bad. People are changing and so is Forest - the woods around Village through which all who come must travel. Matty must get through Forest one more time to spread important news and bring back Seer's daughter.
As I read this book, so many thoughts were swimming through my head - things on the periphery of my consciousness. I knew that Forest symbolized something, as did Village. I was just too caught up in the story to figure out what they all meant. Today I am trying to work through my thoughts.
Village had always been a welcoming safehaven for those coming from other places where they had suffered. Everyone was committed to guiding newcomers through their past experiences and fears and helping them find an honorable place in Village. I hope everyone has a place or memory of a place like Village. Where you are safe and welcome and wanted. Where your success is celebrated and respected. That is what Village was. Forest was the buffer between Village and all of the other places people came from. Forest offered paths to and from Village, but it did not let everyone through at all times. Some were "chewed up and spit out" by her. In Forest, those like Matty were comfortable and confident while others were overtaken by fear and doubt. Once doubt crept into the mind, everything in the woods appeared to be reaching for you. Fear changed the gentle woods into a dark, frightening place. This is so true in life. We go into a situation we are unsure of and our approach makes it what it will be. If we chose to go in confident, there is nothing we can't do. But if even a hint of doubt is present, the whole expectation is changed. In Forest, as in life, one small doubt is a breeding ground for dozens more. It doesn't take long for us to feel "chewed up and spit out".
There is so much more to this story, but for now, my musings must end here. I highly recommend this story to anyone else who liked The Giver. I am off to get the last in the trilogy!

The Giver by Lois Lowery

I started reading this book, thinking I had lots of time to finish it and I could work my way through it throughout the week. But I couldn’t put it down. I had so many thoughts about it, I don’t even know what to focus on!
Imagine a life with no real meaning, no purpose except to do your job for the common good. Every year of your childhood planned out, protections in place so you cannot experience anything different than anyone else, and absolutely no emotion. What the heck is the point?
As I read, I thought about how this relates to life in the here and now. While our lives are still very emotional, there is a movement to make sure no child feels different – no one is excluded, regardless of ability or even interest. The tests given to our students do not honor their individuality, only some all-powerful set of standards. We try desperately to avoid pain and sorrow, wishing them away, wondering how we can overcome their presence in our lives – when, really, without them, there is no joy either.
My thoughts about The Giver were similar to my thoughts about the book Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand (admittedly not a children’s book). In that book, the idea of everyone having the same resources and no one being better than anyone else is taken to its extreme. The result is terrifying. I felt the same with this book. While I’d like to say the idea of Sameness is “way out there”, I can’t. Isn’t that what we are striving toward? Be sure every child has the same academic experience (let’s face it, that’s a lot of years of standards!) and no one is ever left out, even if they want to be.
I think the reason I don’t like science fiction very much is that it is never quite far enough from the realm of possibility. It scares me to death!

The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo

I have so many sticky notes hanging out of the pages of this book, I don't know what to focus on. I had been in no rush to read this book. Had I only realized! Poor Despereaux, a true misfit. How many of us can identify with that at one time or another?
DiCamillo's ability to pull the reader into the story and make the reader part of the story is captivating. Each time she spoke directly to the reader I stopped, quite unconsciously, to think about what she was asking me or telling me. I even looked up the word "perfidy" when she told me to! The whole play between dark and light, used literally and figuratively throughout the book, is a splendid venue to introduce figurative language to readers. She makes it simple and obvious without becoming repetitive or condesending. The theme of consequences invites this story to be a read-aloud for older students, who, somehow, forget that they are subject to such things. Pre- teens and young teens would love the story, though they might be unlikely to admit it. The play between good and evil, the power of love, the impact of each small event on the lives of so many others; these are just a few of the themes this age group would revel in. And of course, the happily ever after ending that is not equivalent to everybody got what they wanted. It's a bit more realistic. It's perfect.
I was left with just one question at the end. How was Roscuro able to talk to Mig in just the right pitch to be heard? At first I thought maybe Mig was supposed to be rat-like, but she wasn't smart enough to be sneaky. I'm sure it was obvious, but I missed it. Any suggestions?

Bridge to Terabithia - The Movie

Bridge the movie was a success. It did not stray as far from the book as I initially thought it would and it kept enough of the character development from the book to draw the reader into the friendship between Jesse and Leslie. Leslie's death left me almost as sad in the theater as I have been every time I've read it at home. There were, however, some critical differences.

While I was very impressed with the casting of Jesse and I loved May Belle and Leslie, Jesse's mom looked nothing like I imagined her. I expected a slightly plump woman in a well worn dress with a very sour expression on her face. In the movie she was so sweet and her only real shortcoming was her financial stress. Not having the mom of the book made it harder to understand where Jesse was coming from when he discovered Leslie and Terabithia. In the book his need for escape was so obvious, not so in the movie. Another issue I had was the new time period for the story. The reference to the internet and "digital media" seemed silly. Never in a million years would a teacher of today take a student on a field trip to the city in her own car, by herself, without a signed permission slip. It's as realistic as the characters in Terabithia.

The imaginings (is that a word?) of Jesse and Leslie were fun to watch. As I said in my blog about the book, I never really noticed much about their adventures in Terabithia. However, in the movie I was reminded of my own childhood experiences of running through the hills and trees in search of thieves, giants, and strange animals. I remember feeling the breath of the "thing" behind us and running as fast as we could to escape. With the high grasses or corn stalks flying past as we ran, it did seem like we ran like the wind. I thought the movie captured that feeling only felt by children very well. While most adults will probably think it's over the top, I would guess many of the kids will find it just right. The power of imagination.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

I read Bridge to Terabithia at least four times during my late elementary and early middle school years. I loved the book. Maybe because I had experienced a lot of loss in my life, maybe because I, like Leslie, moved from a place where I had a lot of friends to a place where I had only one, or maybe just because it's a great book. Whatever the reason, I received great comfort from the story and turned to it whenever my own outlook on life was looking bleak. Reading it now, twenty plus years later, I am struck by the things I didn't even notice when I was young. First, how mean the kids are! Is this one of the aspects of childhood that is universal: Kids of all ages since the beginning of time hurting, humiliating and tormenting each other? It concerns me as a teacher, but even more as a mother. Why is it that now we have our schools locked down, monitored for guns and other weapons, etc. What made kids of the last hundred plus years able to overcome this emotional abuse but not the kids of today? I've been thinking about this a lot in the past week. I can't help but wonder if a modern day Janice Avery would be suicidal or, worse, homicidal. Or if Jesse, always shouldering more than his share of the work around the house along with loads of teasing from his sisters, would have run away from home at sixteen and never looked back. Maybe. In my own experience, I only knew one person in my high school of 1,200 kids who ran away from home, and truth be told, he was kicked out by his alcoholic parents. We had no bomb threats, concerns about knives or guns (students and teachers alike carried jack-knives to school), or security guards. That was only fifteen years ago, but a far cry from today's schools. What is rather alarming to me is that nowhere in my memory of reading this book do I recall being surprised by the teasing and hurtful behavior. It suggests to me that I thought it was pretty typical stuff. Not bothersome, concerning, or even worthy of note. Ok. Moving on. The other thing I had almost no recollection of from my childhood readings of this book is the adventures in Terabithia itself. I remembered the grove of pine trees being sacred, but that's it. I was so caught up in the friendship between Jesse and Leslie, I never really thought about their adventures. My husband on the other hand, played Terabithia in the woods near his home. He and his friends would go out and fight giants to protect the kingdom. Yet, while I cry every time I read the book, he has never shed a tear over it. I wonder if this is a difference between males and females or if it's just that he was so much more creative than I was, and I so much more emotional. No matter what the answer, I think Bridge to Terabithia is one of the greatest stories ever written and I thoroughly enjoyed this blast from my past.

The Relatives Came by Cynthia Rylant

Reading this book makes me think of my childhood. I was the oldest of six children and like in the story, we had an old beat up station wagon. It was like a clown car wherever we went. When we would go on long trips to visit various relatives, we packed our soda, graham crackers, and yes, bologna sandwiches before we hit the road. When we arrived, there was the same hugging and laughing, eating in shifts, and pile-up of sleeping kids as in the book. How rich the memories are that this story brings back. Stephen Gammell's illustrations pull you right into the story: the car bumping along, the mailbox and fence obviously knocked over by the overzealous driver, food falling, bellies poking out of jammies, and always smiles and laughter so clear you can almost hear them. But my favorite page is after the relatives arrival. The illustrator creates a scene of joyful chaos with shoes falling off, bodies caught in motion, a puddle splashed in, and everyone hugging each other. You want to jump in and join the family! The text is marvelous as well. It feels like a child is relating the story of his spectacular summer vacation. The description of the trip from Virginia and the food the relatives bring is reminiscent of the days before McDonald's was on every corner. The excitement is palpable as you read about everyone eating, sleeping and breathing together. And every once in a while, the more thoughtful comments like, "It was different, going to sleep with all that new breathing in the house." and at the end, "...then we crawled back into our beds that felt too big and too quiet." I'm sure in a house full of eighteen or more people, we would recognize that something felt different, but would we realize that it was the breathing? or the empty space and the loud quiet after everyone had gone? I suppose most of us will never find out for sure, but if we listen carefully as we read, we just might find ourselves in the middle of a boisterous visit from the relatives.

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