If I Was 13 and Artemis Fowl Was Real, I Would Totally Arm Wrestle My Daughter To Date Him

As usual, it's all thing Artemis Fowl over here at the house of th Book Bench. My ten year old daughter happily, happily, ecstatically got her hands on the newly released latest in the series, The Atlantis Complex. She is parcelling it out, just a few chapters a day to make it last longer. To fill in the gaps of non-Atlantis Complex time, she is reading the graphic novel version of the second book in the series, Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident. We have read the original novel and listened to it on CD and it is my favorite in the series. Hayden loves it because she loves the pixie villain, Opal Koboi who is deliciously evil. However, the graphic novel is like a thorn under her saddle because Opal does not look at all the way Hayden pictured her. That is irritating her no end. I'm worried that whenever the movie is made, she (we) will be disappointed

I do not have much time for "fun" books like the Artemis Fowl series because I am busily preparing for the classes I'll be teaching this fall. By the way, "this fall" means this Thursday as that's the day teachers report back to school. Anyhow, I did find a way to sneak a little Artemis in when I teach The Great Gatsby. I plan to do a lesson on Byronic heroes and have the students decide whether or not Jay Gatsby qualifies as one. Artemis is one of the many examples of contemporary Byronic heroes I will present to the class.

The Thief Lord

Here is a book I've recently finished and passed on to my ten year old daughter. I'm pretty sure she is going to love it. In all honesty, I did not pass on to her the actual copy I read since I listened to the audiobook on my drive to and from work, and I checked a paper copy out of the library for my daughter. Do you consider listening to the audiobook "reading"? I know some book clubs scorn it. It makes good sense to me as I can't stand overly political or overly hyuk hyuk silly talk radio in the morning.

Back to the book. The Thief Lord, written by master German storyteller Cornelia Funke (Inkheart, Igraine the Brave, and so on) tells an adventure story of two orphaned brothers who run away to Venice after the younger one is about to be adopted by an unloving aunt and the older is to be sent to boarding school. Once in Venice, the brothers, Prosper and Bo, meet up with other children on their own and join forces to survive. They also become involved with Victor Getz, a kindhearted private detective the aunt has hired to search for the brothers. Victor is easily my favorite character in the book, which is saying something as this is a very character driven book. Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of plot going on as well. There is a lot of adventure, a touch of mystery, and even a tiny bit of magic. And even though it is written for young people, this old lady learned a good bit about the city of Venice from the pages of The Thief Lord.

Apparently the book was adapted into a film a few years back, but I was unaware of that. I am quite glad I "read" the book, and I think my daughter will soon be as well. It is a good choice for fourth through I'd say seventh graders who like a bit of adventure.

Coincidence in the Graveyard

Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife is one of my favorite novels, so I had looked very much forward to her next book, Her Fearful Symmetry. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. It tells the story of a British woman who dis and leaves her London apartment to her two American nieces with the stipulation that they must live in the flat for a year in order to inherit it. Interestingly, her ghost resides in the flat and eventually makes contact with the twins and her former lover who lives downstairs. The premise is great; the book just didn't deliver. What did interest me, however, were all of Niffenegger's descriptions of London's Highgate Cemetery. Guess who else was inspired by that cemetery? Neil Gaiman when writing The Graveyard Book, which, if you've been reading this blog for the last month or so, you know I love. I imagine you are getting tired of hearing about it. Sorry. Reading Her Fearful Symmetry did give me more insight into Gaiman's graveyard. It inspired me to look up Highgate Cemetery's website which was helpful to my son for visualizing Gaiman's setting. It looks like a beautiful and fascinating place. Finally, exploring the website has me trying to figure out if we can squeeze a visit to Highgate into our upcoming family trip to London. Karl Marx is buried there after all. So I guess I did get a good deal out of a book I did not like too much.

Too Busy to Read?!

This is a ridonculously (as the kids say) busy week in my house. In addition to the usual homework, sports, activities, laundry, and so on, we've got a few big holidays of the religious and ethnic variety, two birthdays, and a fourth grade poetry celebration. If we had tshirts printed for the week, they would read something like, "Happy Valentine's Day. I Cannot Tell a Lie. Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez. Happy Birthday Times Two. Poetry Rocks and To Dust You Shall Return."

How about that? Catchy, right?

In all of the madness, books are going unread around here. I've been trying to get in a chapter of How to Train Your Dragon (or as one seven year old I know likes to gigglingly call it, How to Drain Your Dragon) and the kids are completing their required minimums for homework, but that's about it.

I have been listening to Twilight on CD in my car. I figure it's necessary for my job as teacher since just about every teenage girl in America has read it and for my job as mom since sooner or later my own nine year old daughter is going to jump on that bandwagon. She even received some Twilight valentines in school this year. My opinion: it's okay, but not fantastic. It certainly is chock full of frequently tested SAT words. That's a plus. I can see why all of those girls love it though. Edward is dreamy, dangerous, brilliant and mature. He desires Bella but doesn't want to "violate" her. She is independent but doesn't mind being protected. It has all of the classic bodice ripper elements with no actual sex. I can't decide what I will say if my daughter wants to read it in the next year or so. Luckily, I don't have to decide for my son. He heard about five minutes of chapter nineteen in the car yesterday on the way to ice hockey practice and said, "No offense, but your book isn't very good."

Stuff I Love

As you know, Valentine's Day is just around the corner. It has me thinking of books about love. The loveliest of all those, in my estimation, is Margery Williams' The Velveteen Rabbit. I have written about this book here before, I know, but it bears mentioning again. Revisit it if you haven't read it in awhile. Even better, revisit it with someone you love, someone who has made you "real."

In case you you now think I only love sappy sweet children's books, here are some other things I love in no particular order. (Actually not true- I saved the best for last.)

I love KFC! I mean I love it in an unhealthy obsession kind of way.

I love Harry Potter books and movies.

I currently love Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book.

I love fuzzy socks.

I love teaching high school English.

I love the smells of Tide and Downy.

I love everything my mother bakes.

I love my mother and the rest of my family.

I love 80s music.

I love bubblegum and black licorice flavored jelly beans.

I love cute flip flops.

I love these three children and their dad!

Spend some time with who and what you love this weekend. Happy Heart Day!

If I Read Any Faster My Tongue Will Fall Off

Awhile back I bought a paperback copy of Cressida Cowell's How To Train Your Dragon Book 1 as a potential book to read aloud with my three kids. Then other books cut it in line and it gathered dust. I finally got around to beginning it one night before bedtime last week. The kids all like it. One or two chapters in, I found out that it "Is now a major motion picture!" which is "opening in March at a theater near you!" which means I have to read like the devil is on my heels.

After six chapters, my three children and I all recommend this tale of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. a Viking boy, hoping to be initiated into the Tribe of Hairy Hooligans. The back cover promises that he will become known throughout Vikingdom as "The Dragon Whisperer." He is not there yet in our reading. In fact, at our point in the book, Hiccup has the lamest dragon of all the Viking boys, a pathetic little creature nicknamed Toothless. We cannot wait to read what happens next. As the kids are home today enjoying a snow day we might find out before bedtime tonight.

You Learn Something New Everyday

Two weeks ago a good friend of mine and her husband were here from Ireland and spent an afternoon with me and the kids. My friends lovely Irish husband inquired about what nine year old daughter has been reading lately. She was happy to report that aside from her beloved Roald Dahl of course, her current favorite author is Eoin Colfer. She raved about the Artemis Fowl books and recommended The Legend of Spud Murphy for his young nephews. She and I kept pronouncing the author's name as if it is pronounced "Ian." When my daughter showed my friend's husband the books, he congratulated her on her wonderful taste in books and then informed her that Eoin is pronounced like "Owen." Who knew? Hayden politely thanked him for this information, but when he left, she told me that she "Ian" Colfer and so "Ian" is how she will continue to pronounce his name, at least as long as we are here in the United States. Then she went back to reading his The Supernaturalist. She has since finished and wants me to read it.

In other mother-daughter book news, I've finished Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, and I've been selling it to anyone with ears. My daughter took the bait, but asked me to check the print not CD version out of the library for her as she "can't imagine where she would find seven hours to listen to it." I did, but I think she will be missing out on Gaiman's fantastic reading. His voices and accents only enhance an already fabulous story.

It's cold out there today. At least it is here in New Jersey. I hope you can carve out some time to curl up with a good book in a cozy spot today.

On the Edge of the Driver's Seat

In my ongoing quest to satisfy my boys' desire for scary books that I feel are appropriate, I have hit upon a real doozy. I've been listening to Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book on CD as I drive to and from work this week. I'm almost hoping for a traffic jam. It is gripping! Before checking it out of the library, the sum total of knowledge I had of this book was that its author also wrote Coraline and that it won a number of awards last year, including a Newberry. Now I know I love it. It tells the story of Bod, Nobody Owens, orphaned as a toddler when his family was murdered and now being raised by the inhabitants of a local graveyard, ghosts, that is. I don't want to give a single thing away, and perhaps I can't as I still have about an hour of story left, so I'll just leave you with these words- this is the best thing I've checked out of the library in months and I'm looking forward to reading it with my kids.

Back to School

My children boarded the school buses for the first time this year less than an hour ago. While I should be doing research and writing lesson plans for my return to work as a high school English teacher next week, I first need to blog the lump out of my throat. I am pretty blue this morning. My baby is headed to first grade! How can that be? Plus, it was a really fun summer packed with swimming, bike rides, ice pops, and loafing around. While I'm kind of sad, I am caught up in the excitement of the new school year and am happy that my kids all left with big smiles on their faces. Really big ones. Look:

I like that picture, but I recently read an article about taking back to school photos that describes just that pose as cliche and expected. The article suggested taking photos of backpacks, school lunches, or shoes lined up at the door. Eh. Our backpacks aren't too inspiring

and you don't want to see the state of my boys' shoes. so I lined up the family water bottles, and while that picture may say "Make love not landfills," it doesn't say "Back to School."

The older kids each were asked to bring a book for pleasure reading to school today. Lucky public school kids! Let me say I attended Catholic schools until college and was never told to bring a book for pleasure reading or do anything else pleasurable for that matter. Maybe a photo of the books would be a nice non-cliche memory, but my ten year old son was still hemming and hawing between Louis Sachar's Sideways Stories from The Wayside School and a nonfiction book called The Kid Who Invented Popsicles as we walked out the door this morning. This is what my nine year old daughter packed:

She absolutely loves the wickedly evil pixie Opal Koboi in Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl books. It's a nice cover, but that shot doesn't scream "School Days" either. I believe the following picture does capture the essence of beginning school in September 2009. It is of what I think is the most important school supply my children have with them today, because as I was shouting "I love you! Have a great day!" what I was really thinking this morning as they got on those buses was "I love you, and don't you dare bring home swine flu!"

Today's Special

For most of elementary and middle school, I attended a Catholic school which served hot lunch only once a week. The high school I attended provided a mere 25 minutes for lunch. In order to spend more time yakking with my friends and touching up my 80s hairstyle and less time on line, I never once purchased a hot lunch in those four years. Rather, I bought from the a la carte menu (one turkey or roast beef sandwich, one can Diet Pepsi, one bag Dipsy Doodle chips and either a Reeses peanut butter cup or package of mini powdered donuts if I had an athletic practice that day). As a teacher, I always brown bagged it. Therefore, I've had minimal contact with lunch ladies in my life. For all I knew, the hairnetted stereotypes and Chris Farley SNL skit could be spot-on accurate.

That is until I sent my oldest son to first grade. Every once in awhile, I would send him to school with money for the oh so exciting purpose of buying lunch. Apparently he impressed the lunch ladies with his eagerness and manners. Right before his birthday that year, I received a phone call at home from one of the lunch ladies who said something along the lines of, "Hi, I'm Mrs. So and So, I'm a cafeteria worker at your son's school. I hope you don't think this is strange and I wanted to clear it with you. Can I give your son a birthday present? I love talking with him and I found a gift I think he'll love." That's how we ended up with a Sea Monkey tank on our kitchen windowsill for two years.

That same son of mine has moved on to fifth grade. At his current school, there are days when he is the only customer for soup. I send him in with a bagged lunch most days and a dollar for soup. He comes home raving about the Italian Wedding Soup, the minestrone, the navy bean, and so on. Sure, lots of kids purchase chicken noodle and tomato, but on other days, he's the only soup eater. The lunch ladies see him in the hallways and tell him what the soup of the day will be. They have also hand delivered cups of soup to his lunch table and given him free refills. He loves those ladies. So of course I'm going to have to get him Jarrett Kroscoczka's new graphic novel Lunch Lady and the Cyborg Substitute. It's the first in a planned series aimed at seven to ten year olds. I don't know much more about it yet, but it certainly looks fun!

The Storm In The Barn

I've just had the good fortune to read an advance reading copy of Matt Phelan's soon to be released graphic novel The Storm In The Barn. I believe I've mentioned here before that I'm not a huge fan of graphic novels, but this one really drew me in with its subject matter, pacing, and high level of suspense. Set in Kansas in 1937, The Storm In The Barn tells the story of eleven year old Jack Clark who hasn't known rain in years as his family is struggling with the effects of the Dust Bowl. With a clumsy nature and no family farm to contribute to, Jack feels he is a failure to his father. Tensions run high in his town, and Jack is often the victim of bullies. Is he also a victim of "dust dementia" when he sees a sinister rain-like figure in a neighbor's abandoned barn? The historical details, from the clothing and cars in the illustrations, to the references to the Oz books popular in the 1930s give The Storm in the Barn a feeling of authenticity.
While it is a strong book to be read on its own by 9 to 13 year olds, I think it would be a great resource to accompany study of the Dust Bowl Days or a reading of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. It is a timely topic of study as reckless, market-driven farming practices were in large part responsible for the devastation. For readers thirsty for more on the topic after reading The Storm In The Barn, I recommend Timothy Egan's The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl.

In Praise of Standardized Testing

No, I'm just kidding with that title. I'm not going to sing the praises of standardized testing. I've studied all the arguments including, but not limited to, distortion of the curriculum and teaching to the test, stress, cultural bias, and impeding critical thinking. I believe Oprah recently had a guest on her show who connects standardized testing with bullying in schools. That said, there was something wonderful about last week, the week when my third and fourth graders took the NJASK (New Jersey Assessment of Skills and Knowledge) test. Do you know why? Because the teachers sent home no homework. Oprah's expert could have come to my house to observe the drop in bullying or at least the drop in stress in my kitchen every day last week. My ten year old son frequently spends ninety minutes on homework, but not those five days of testing. Instead, he played with his brother and friends outside, he built Lego masterpieces, rode his bike, and read Kate DiCamillo's beautiful book The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. One day during testing when he was finished, his teacher helped him select it from the classroom library. He enjoyed it so much that he read his sister's copy at home in the evenings. He never would have done that after more than an hour of homework. He went with Edward from Egypt Street to the bottom of the ocean to a garbage heap to learning to love others. I'm not really singing the praises of testing but rather the benefits of less homework. It was a great week of pleasant afternoons. By the way, my daughter used the free time to read The Penderwicks, More About Paddington, and The Secret of Platform 13. She didn't create any Lego wonders, but she didn't mind. Her discovery of the Penderwick sisters will probably inspire her to compose her own ode to testing week.

Great Moments in Book Talks

My eight year old daughter has been reading and enjoying Cornelia Funke's Inkheart for several weeks now. She carried it down to the school bus stop this morning in order to read it on her bus ride. She happily told me of her plans to renew it today at the school library and check out a different Cornelia Funke book, Inkdeath. She also thinks there is another title, maybe Inkspell, she said. "What's that? Inksmell?" asked one of my sons. "No, that would be Inkfart!" You'd think Eddie Murphy or Robin Williams was walking among us from the way they laughed. "Wait, before the guys farts, it's called Inkswell!" "If he gets possessed by the devil, it's Inkhell!" More guffawing from the kings of comedy. I doubt my daughter will be starting up a book club with those two anytime soon. To her credit, she just gave them a withering look and continued telling me about the story of Meggie and her father who have the ability to read a book aloud and make the characters come to life.

The Main Difference Between Books and People

For me, the main difference between books and people is that I love when a book proves me wrong. That's happening with two books here currently. Perhaps I've mentioned that I am reading J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit aloud to my children in the evenings. When my daughter suggested it awhile back, I was all, Really? Dragons, goblins, elves, and swords with names? Must we? 184 pages in, I am so happy the kids persisted. They are questioning, laughing, and making predictions as I read. In other words, they are really engaged in the book, rooting for the hobbit on his adventure.
In my own reading, I am being proven wrong by Jonathan Safran Foer's 2005 novel Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I've resisted it for several years now despite its good reviews. I have a problem with fiction created from the terrorist attacks of September 11. I know that doesn't make sense as I have read other works of fiction based on major historical tragedies such as slavery and the Holocaust. Perhaps its the nearness of 9/11; I don't know, but I've finally started reading it. It is wonderful and different and quite moving. Eccentric nine year old Oskar Schell who lost his father in the World Trade Center owns my affection with his earnestness and sincerity, not to mention the enormity of his loss. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is one of those books I'm reading more slowly as I go in order to make it last longer.

It Always Comes Back To One of These Guys

For hundreds of years, people referenced the works of William Shakespeare in their everyday lives. If someone they knew displayed jealousy, they talked about the green eyed monster. A panhandler might inspire one to recommend being neither a borrower or lender. So many young men have been called Romeos over the years. Fortunately, Jerry Seinfeld stepped in and took some of the burden off the Bard. Stuck waiting for Chinese food or searching for your car in a parking garage? Say to your companion, "This reminds me of a Seinfeld episode." How many times have we heard "Yada Yada Yada" or a guy described by his "spongeworthiness." Of course the height of this was while the show was still airing new episodes, but now that it is in syndication, Americans still allude to "Seinfeld" frequently. I just finished reading Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin, and the Soup Nazi makes more than one appearance in the text of that cookbook. For years, I used to say that for every human experience, there's a "Seinfeld" episode. That may have been a bit hyperbolic. Then my children started watching "SpongeBob Squarepants." If it is ridiculous, funny, or frustrating, and has happened to a human being, it has made its way onto that program. Not a day goes by that one of my children doesn't begin at least three sentences by saying, "This is just like when SpongeBob and Patrick..." All of that makes sense to me as there are about a gazillion episodes of "SpongeBob Squarepants," "Seinfeld" ran for years, and as we all learned for one English teacher or another, Shakespeare wrote at least 37 plays and a series of sonnets. It is beginning to amaze and exhaust me, however, that my six year old son can connect Star Wars to every aspect of his life. Star Wars! There's only, what, like a half dozen of those films. He's not old enough to read the novels. "Oh, look at that teddy bear; it looks just like an ewok!" "You are driving like Han Solo." Heaven forbid I walk out of the house with too much lipstick ("You look just like Queen Amidallah") or uncomed hair ("Now you look like Chewbacca."). Recently on this blog I wrote of how Ethan compared the Skin Horse in The Velveteen Rabbit to Yoda. I can't tell you how easily a kid can work the phrase "the dark side" into conversation! The worst part of this Star Wars referencing? It's contagious. Last night, I left the kids with my parents and met my husband for dinner and a show at Carnegie Hall. It was a lovely, classy adult evening, unlike the usual ones spent in sweatpants helping kids with their homework and shouting at them to get back in there and flush the toilet. There we were, nicely dressed and chatting quietly before the show in our seats in Zankel Hall. It is the lower level of Carnegie Hall and somewhat modern looking. My husband indicated the black ceiling with all sorts of metalwork and lights and asked me if I thought it looked like the underbelly of a Star Wars spaceship. I could have smacked him. But then a third of the way into his performance, the classical guitarist, John Williams, who had been playing beautiful pieces of Spanish and Italian classical music, told the audience that he is sometimes confused with the composer John T. Williams who wrote the Star Wars theme music. Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk, everyone chuckled. I just elbowed my husband. Every dogstar will have its day I suppose. It makes me wonder, back in the 1600's were there many mothers of pint sized groundlings saying, "Enough already with the Othello talk"?

The Theory of Relativity and Everything is Relative in Bedtime Reading

The used copy of The Hobbit that I ordered from Amazon.com has not yet arrived and my kids wanted me to read them something before bed as they had a rare night without basketball practice, an ice hockey game, or a compelling episode of American Idol. Rather than start a long book that would delay The Hobbit when it finally arrives, we read a short nonfiction book about Albert Einstein, not what I'd customarily choose for a prebedtime snuggle and read aloud, but it was surprisingly popular. Afterwards, the big kids went to read their own books in bed and I told six year old Ethan I would read one quick book from our shelves. He chose Margery Williams' The Velveteen Rabbit (sigh). I adore this book and realized that although I've read it dozens of times, I don't think I've ever read it to him. I asked why he selected it, and Ethan told me that his kindergarten class recently watched a film version and it was "great." He must have paid attention to the movie, because as I first mentioned the Skin Horse, Ethan said, "He is so wise." I couldn't agree more, and in, fact, as always happens to me, my eyes filled up and a lump formed in my throat as I read these words:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. (By the way, maybe one or two little tears had now escaped and rolled down my face.) "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

So there I was, reading this in a trembling voice, and the back of my brain was thinking these words should be read at weddings and funerals and printed on Congratulations on Your New Baby cards, etc.., when Ethan stopped me, sagely nodding his head, to say, "The Skin Horse is so wise, not as wise as Yoda, but still very wise." Holy crap, I love that kid and the way his brain works so very differently from mine!

Read Aloud Update and Then I'm Off to Buy Snacks for Future Dungeons and Dragons Nights

We finished The Mysterious Benedict Society before bed last night. The listeners were very contented. Afterwards, the older kids went to read in their own beds before lights out (Holes for him and The Doll People for her) but not until we had decided upon our next family read aloud book. My daughter has an eight year old friend named Shawn who recently finished J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and has been raving about it. Apparently all three of my kids trust Shawn's opinion. It may not be politically correct to say, but I fear I may be opening a Pandora's box of nerdhood here. But, our home is a democracy (when it's convenient to me), so I found a copy described as "Good as New" from Amazon for one cent plus shipping and handling. It should arrive by Monday, giving my voice a much needed vacation. Well, sort of a vacation. My six year old wants me to read the first Harry Potter to him. I've read it aloud twice already, but that was several years ago and he pretty much played with Matchbox cars or fell asleep on my lap while the older kids listened. We've made a deal to read a few pages each day when he arrives home from kindergarten before his siblings. I'd better go unwrap a honey lemon Ricola because that kindergarten bus will be here in no time!

The Princess or the Knight?

For several months now, I think since she read Cornelia Funke's wonderful Igraine the Brave, my daughter has had a sort of ice breaker/litmus test question she likes to ask of people. Actually, she only asks it of females ever since her brothers both answered the question with a snotty kind of "Duh" in unison. The question is this: Would you rather be the princess in the tower or the knight who saves her? The princess must sit up there, bored and waiting for rescue while the knight must endure hardship and danger. My daughter is certain she would prefer to be the knight. I generally agree, although on certain crazy days, a few months in a quiet tower sound idyllic. In any event, after reading Rapunzel's Revenge (remember how badly I wanted to read it back in December?), we both want to be Rapunzel. In this fantastic retelling by Shannon Hale and Dean Hale, illustrated as a graphic novel by Nathan Hale, Rapunzel is a real grab life by the horns type of girl. This version is a twist on the original story, keeping the long hair but setting Rapunzel's story in a sort of Wild West fairy tale land. She teams up with Jack (yes, of the beanstalk) in a witty and fast paced plot. Her adventures made my daughter and I jealous, and the illustrations and humor left us wanting a sequel. This book would make a great gift for tweens and older girls who appreciate comic books and girl power.

Books, Books, and Talking about Books

I wanted to like Larry McMurtry's Books: A Memoir which tells of his experiences as a book scout and antiquarian book seller. I really wanted to, but I didn't. I quit reading it last week at Chapter 34. Before you get all impressed, most chapters are only a page or two in length. I was interested in the early stories of McMurtry's childhood, but the many tales of where he found certain rare books, what he paid for them, and what they later fetched at resale failed to hold my interest.

On Christmas Day, however, I had a conversation with a bright, poised, and much cooler than I was at her age 11 year old girl which could also have been titled "Books: A Memoir." We started by talking about the copy of Twilight she had received for Christmas and had already begun reading. She also received some of The Clique series of novels written by Lisi Harrison and aimed at girls in grades five to eight, as well as a box of Nancy Drew books from her grandparents. She had my full attention. We covered other old favorites including Eoin Colfer. I've said it here before, if you want to get a tween talking, bring up Artemis Fowl or Half Moon Investigations. We moved on to how she organizes her bookshelves, and I was hanging on every word. She may not have penned Lonesome Dove or the screenplay to Brokeback Mountain, but this sixth grader kept my attention with her reading autobiography longer than Larry McMurtry did with his. I wonder if he has a favorite Clique book.

How Great is This Cover?!

Sometimes you see a book's cover and you just have to read the book. I know absolutely nothing about this book except that I cannot wait to get my hands on it!