I have been reading David Wroblewski's The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. It has gotten some very good reviews and is Oprah's current book club selection. That means it was sold at 40% off on a day I happened to have a gift card to my local bookstore. I'm a sucker for a little buzz and a big discount, so I bought it. It's a good book, but I've been finding it a little slow going. My daughter, on the other hand, is flying through Louise Fitzhugh's Harriet the Spy. She's been reading it in bed and at the bus stop. She took it into the bathtub the other night. On her recommendation, my son is reading and loving Roald Dahl's Matilda. He is having fun retelling the funny bits to me, and there are quite a few of them. We all get a kick out of the name of Matilda's school headmistress, Miss Trunchbull. So of course I'm envious of my children with their juicy, engrossing books, or at least I was until Sunday afternoon. On Sunday, I picked up a copy of Trenton Lee Stewart's The Mysterious Benedict Society. Holy cow, this book is awesome! I intended to save it as our next nighttime read aloud book, but couldn't resist reading just a few pages. I cannot put it down. I'm halfway through it. Last night my daughter woke up around 11 and came into my bedroom where I was reading it and said in an accusatory voice,"I thought you were going to wait to read it with us!" Look who's jealous now!