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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