FABLEHAVEN was in that category for me until yesterday. And now it is not!

Brandon Mull is one of the authors Pudd’nHead has coming this spring, and I would like to review something by each of them on this blog between now and their appearance. Brandon’s not the first author we’re having, but I’ve actually chosen this book to kick off my new fantasy/otherworldly book club at the store, so I read it first and am thusly reviewing it first!

Now that I’ve read it, of course, I honestly can’t believe I missed out on it for four years. (And I want to read the sequels, which is a problem, because I barely have time for the first book in a series.) I’m really looking forward to discussing this with the kids (and having Brandon at the shop).

Kendra and Seth are being packed off to grandparents they barely know while their parents go on a cruise. They’ve never been to their grandparents’ house; no one in the family really has. They’re told their grandmother is away; their grandfather is a little odd and has a lot of rules they have to follow. When Seth breaks the rules (something he’s going to do a lot), they begin to learn the truth about their grandparents: they are caretakers of Fablehaven, a secret sanctuary for mythical creatures. Their grandfather brings them into the fold, but Seth’s continued overactive curiosity soon puts not just Fablehaven in danger, but also their family…and, possibly, the world.

I love the characters here. Kendra and Seth have an awesome, believable relationship, with exactly the right amount of bickering and affection. Lena, their grandfather’s housekeeper, may be my favorite character – except she has to vie with their grandfather. The setting unfolds slowly, with a great balance of secrecy and surprises. There are awesome moments of humor (wait until the fairy broker shows up). There ARE a lot of secrets here, so I don’t want to say much if you too have missed out on this great series. But this would be a great read-aloud for families – good adventure, good characters, a little mystery, a little creepiness, some humor, and some wonderful plotting. It’s good for kids reading up and for anyone who loves the SEPTIMUS HEAP books, GREGOR THE OVERLANDER, CHILDREN OF THE LAMP etc.

Now that I’ve read it, I’m even more eager to sell it.

(Incidentally, how I would handsell it was basically like this: “FABLEHAVEN is about what happens when siblings learn that their grandparents run a secret sanctuary for mythical creatures.” A lot of handsells are exactly that short; that one worked a lot. )

(But don’t think that lets you off the hook, Ms. George.)

1. CITY OF GLASS by Cassandra Clare, which I reviewed here. You may remember that in that particular review, I ate some crow over having originally rolled my eyes at hearing that a fanfic writer got a book deal. After spending almost the whole year reading other books, I still think that Clare’s Mortal Instruments trilogy has one of the best YA series endings I’ve ever read. I definitely wanted more Clary and Jace and Simon, but all of my major questions were answered and all the ends were tied up well enough. We consistently sell this series over and over again, and I’m always happy to put it in someone’s hands.

2. THE LAST OLYMPIAN by Rick Riordan, which I never did get around to reviewing because it came out at a really busy time and I barely had time to read it, let alone write about it. There are probably one or two reviews of this tiny little series roaming around the internet. You may have heard of it – Percy Jackson and the Olympians? (About to be made into a movie that I am skeptical about because the actors are so much older than their kid characters?)

Anyway. I knew going in that this was the last book, so I was prepared. I was prepared for it to end, and from reading the other four (and meeting Rick once), I felt that he would not let us down with the ending.

I was right.

I would like more of Percy’s story, but I feel that Rick did him justice, and did the readers justice. That story is over, and I am satisfied. I also knew very, very early that there would only be five, so I had a long time to get used to that fact. Also Rick has a new book coming next year, and while I have no idea what it’s about, who’s writing it is really what matters in this case.

3. FRONT AND CENTER by Catherine Gilbert Murdock. Catherine lives close by to Children’s Book World, where I worked (and Sarah still works), so I was lucky enough to get to know her a little. We got in on the ground floor, so to speak, with the D.J. Schwenk books – and we were so lucky to discover them so early.  Sarah reviewed FRONT AND CENTER back in July, and when I finally read it in October, I learned that it was every bit as good as Sarah said it was. It is an incredibly satisfying close to D.J.’s story. And if you’ve yet to discover D.J. and her family and her world, the good news is that all three books are out so there is no waiting for you.

4. DRAGON SPEAR by Jessica Day George.

Pull up a chair, Jessica. (Can I call you Jessica?)

Okay, look. Here’s the deal. I know that you can finish DRAGON SPEAR and see that Creel’s story has a resolution, and that the dragons got a resolution and we have a happy ending and blah blah blah. And a trilogy is a nice round set of three, so you dotted your i’s and crossed your t’s and wrapped it up without staying at the party too long like so many others tend to.

COME BACK TO THE PARTY, JESSICA.

(I’m going to talk to the readers now. Try the appetizers!)

Back when I read the ARC of DRAGON SPEAR I insisted that you all go and read this series if you hadn’t yet. I am expecting, of course, that you listened to me, and that you’re all ready with your teeny tiny picket signs to wave at my little internet protest, right? “What do we want?” “MORE CREEL!” “When do we want it?” “NOW!”

I know that we have an uphill struggle here. Jessica’s got other stuff to contend with, like her publisher, and the fact that she’s been writing other awesome books, blah blah blah. But I believe that if we all hope with all our hearts we can influence this outcome. YES WE CAN.

(Okay, back to Jessica now.)

How are the pigs in blankets?

Look, Jessica – I’m going to read anything you write. (I just finished PRINCESS OF THE MIDNIGHT BALL and now, almost 12 months after publication, it has to go on my best of the year list.) If you write a fantasy where a bowl of oatmeal comes to life, I’m going to read it. And I’m going to read it whether there’s ever any more about Creel or not. I’m just saying, if you’re hanging around sometime in the future and you’re bored and don’t have anything else to write, I’d like some more, please. It was a really good party. I’d like to stay.

But if you move on to another party, I’ll come too. (Not in a stalkery way.) And thanks for Creel, because I really do love her, and I can’t wait to share her with my daughter in seven or eight years.

~

And that’s it – the endings to four series I loved, all hitting in the same year. I’m leaving these characters behind with a great deal of sorrow, but I can’t wait to see what these authors do next.

Beginning in February, my answer will be to hand them THE SIXTY-EIGHT ROOMS.

In the Art Institute of Chicago, there is a collection of sixty-eight miniature rooms called the Thorne Rooms. Each one is designed in the style of a different time and place, and they are absolutely perfect down to the most minute detail.  I have seen these rooms, and they are amazing. Mesmerizing.

While on a field trip to the Institute, Jack and Ruthie find a key that allows a person to shrink down small enough to enter the rooms and explore. Once they do, amazing things begin to happen to them. They learn that they are not the first visitors to the room, and they learn that some valuable things may have been left behind in the past. The discovery of the key sets them off on a fantastic series of adventures, with mysteries to solve and chances to take and things to figure out about themselves.

This review will be necessarily short, because I feel like almost anything I say would be a spoiler. I can tell you this: I LOVE THIS BOOK. I love this book hugely. I cannot wait to sell this book. I am going to get my fifth grade girls’ book club to read it; I am going to book talk it at any spring book fairs we might have. I am going to sell this book and sell it and sell it. I am going to buy it in hardcover and put it away for Molly. I am going to send it to my cousin’s daughter and the daughters of friends. Not that you can’t give this to a boy – I think there are some boy readers who will like it – but the premise of this book is one that girls often imagine themselves into. I used to wish all the time that I was small enough to fit into my dollhouse. Just sometimes.

While reading this book, the memory of that particular make-believe from my past came flooding back.

This book will make a great read-aloud. It’s good for classrooms and libraries and birthday party gifts for kids you don’t know (and kids you know). It’s a good grandparent gift; it’s an easy handsell. It’s smart with a strong female character and an excellent portrayal of friendship.

It’s only December 2009 and this is already one of my favorite books of 2010.

Did I mention I LOVE THIS BOOK? And it’s a debut! Well done, Ms. Malone. I can’t wait to see what you do next.

Reviewer: Sarah

Middle school, for many of us, was a time of great confusion.  There were training bras, and zits, and oops I forgot my deodorant, and oops the boy who used to be my friend is now my crush, and what do you mean I need glasses and braces and STIRRUP PANTS (why, early nineties, why?).  I had a lot of bad hair and bad clothes, but what I did have was lots of good books.  That said, if I had been able to read THE POPULARITY PAPERS, I think my middle school years might have been just a little easier.

Meet Lydia Goldblatt (sometimes called “Goldbladder” by the mean kids), a blond curly-girl with glasses and lots of gumption.  Her best friend, Julie Graham-Chang, is the quiet one, the artist/cartoonist, the short one who’s easy to overlook.  Junior high is looming, and Lydia realizes that neither she nor Julie are anywhere in the vicinity of popular.  They decide to spend sixth grade in the pursuit of popularity, but not in the traditional way.  Like the National Geographic explorers of old, Lydia and Julie begin a notebook of discovery, wherein they can document their findings after extensive observation, and then, Francis Bacon-like, apply the scientific method to test and see what works.  Case in point:  our heroines discover many popular girls have a blond streak in their hair.  Lydia attempts to lighten a swath of hair with bleach.  Under the sink bleach.  Burn your skin off bleach.  (Luckily she can hide the bald spot until the hair grows back.)  Lydia, as the outgoing one, has more interaction at first with the glitterati of her school, but Julie finds her own chances to mingle once she joins the field hockey team.

What really works in this painfully funny (graphic?) novel is the core friendship of Lydia and Julie.  The sincerity with which Ignatow writes is just wonderful to read, and there is such loving care in the crafting of their personalities, even down to the differences in their handwriting.  As this book is truly a journal of sorts, it reads like an intimate dialogue between two girls that you can’t help but root for from page one.  Sometimes they give each other their best, and sometimes they let each other down, but what remains is the truest element of friendship:  change will happen, but true friends will grow alongside you, and give you room to grow in your own way.  I love that Lydia and Julie both try things that are new to them, and both attempt things that are scary (and not always together), because junior high (and oh yeah, real life) is full of those moments.  Our heroines both have family issues as well:  Lydia lives with her high-strung single mother and emo sister, while Julie lives with her two dads, and both girls are trying desperately to transition out of “little kid” mode.

THE POPULARITY PAPERS will invariably draw comparisons to DIARY OF A WIMPY KID, and I hope that anyone who does will make the same connections I did.  Both PP and WIMPY utilize a lot of comic-style art.  Both PP and WIMPY take place in that shadowy land between kid-dom and adolescent-dom.  Both PP and WIMPY feature two best friends.  Both PP and WIMPY have a journal-like construct.  This is all very true.  You’re missing the point, however, if you don’t make this last connection, which I think is the only one really worth mentioning:  both PP and WIMPY are utterly HILARIOUS.  Lydia and Julie are comedy gold together, and I laughed out loud over and over again.  I have written before about how publishers and writers need to bring the funny if they want to reach kids today, and THE POPULARITY PAPERS delivers hard-core.  I am going to LOVE selling this book.  (If I had a time machine, I’d send one back to myself in 6th grade.  I mean it.)

The authors let you know from the very beginning just how different these identical twins are. A taste of that, first from Payton:

I was seriously excited. I’d spent the last six years in a small girls’ school. And by small I mean there was only class in each grade. It was the same people over and over every year. But not this year…because I was switching to public school! Heck yeah, I was psyched. Switching classes! Different teachers! After-school activities! My own locker! New people! CUTE GUYS!
And the flip side, from Emma:

I wish it were last year. I loved our small school: I knew everybody, and I knew what to expect. Everything was under control. In elementary school I knew who I was. Emma the Brain. Emma the Achiever. Emma with the near-photographic memory. But in middle school there would be kids from all over. Smart, talented students. More competition. The pressure would be ON. This middle school was huge. It had three stories and four wings. I’d looked at the website and found out there were 655 seventh graders and 710 eighth graders.

655
+
710
____
1365
- (me + Payton) = 1363

1363 total strangers in this school!

I shuddered.

Unfortunately, Emma’s fears (rather than Payton’s hopes) come true. School is an unequivocal disaster for both of them. Instead of impressing the teachers and her fellow students with her smarts, Emma makes a series of unfortunate mistakes that send exactly the opposite message. Payton had hoped to impress the popular girls with her fashionable clothes, which she obtained at summer camp by basically serving as a slave to a girl who had awesome clothes and agreed to give them to Payton in exchange for services. It’s going fairly well until she accidentally dumps a giant burrito on the shirt of one of the popular boys.

Payton flees the lunchroom and sends a desperate text to Emma, who comes up with a surprising solution: she will switch clothes with Payton and pretend to be her for the afternoon. Hanging out with your friends is all about faking confidence? I can do confident, Emma says. She’d been very confident in herself before making an idiot out of herself at this new school; surely she could pull out her confidence again to fake it as Payton. So the girls switch clothes, and off they go for the afternoon.

Suddenly everything is different. As each pretends to be the other, they find themselves standing up for their twin. Emma decides to give Payton a slightly more academic reputation than she’d had at their old school. She gives the burrito incident a brushoff in the gym locker room, and her savvy memory earn her some unexpected fashion points with the very girls Payton wants to impress.

Payton gets off to a slower start, as she spent the afternoon in the nurse’s office. However, once she talks to Emma at home, she begins to see what Emma has already realized: switching places is fun.

And now we’re off to the races.

This is a fun book. It is absolutely a fun book. The language explodes off the page (especially when the voice is Payton’s). The switching, as you can imagine, brings much hilarity; it evokes THE PARENT TRAP without duplicating it. It’s hard to get anyone to step out of their comfort zone, so having twins do it for one another (at least at first) is a clever plot device that is executed well here.

However, DeVillers and Roy also give their readers a lot to think about. Payton and Emma learn some very valuable stuff about themselves and each other during (and after) their little experiment. What I appreciated is that they don’t learn these lessons in a sort of hammer-to-the-head kind of way that a lot of “message” stuff can be dropped into books that are supposed to be more on the fun side. The lessons kind of sneak up on you. Good lessons, lessons that tweens can never hear too often – lessons about popularity, and being true to yourself, and standing up for the people you love, and what kinds of things to value.

Also, the things they learn don’t fix everything. They don’t end the book as perfect people, having learned everything they need to know to live successful lives from that point on. The lessons occur, and some take effect and some don’t. Some will probably need to be learned over and over again.

But those lessons are wrapped in a giant pile of fun, which is apparently to be continued in at least one sequel. I can’t wait to see what Payton and Emma get up to next.

I don’t know if Roy and DeVillers each wrote one character (the book is told in alternating chapters), but the voices are distinct enough that I’m thinking they did.

As I started reading NERDS, my current situation gave me a lot of immediate sympathy for Jackson Jones, who, on page 4, is having a conversation to one I had five months back with my orthodontist.  (However, Jackson is a bully, and popular, and athletic, so our similarities pretty much end at the braces).  The braces cause a huge ripple effect on his life, and overnight, he becomes a shadow of the kid he used to be.  Friends ignore him, and his enormous headgear is too big for sports helmets, so his athletic career comes to an abrupt halt.  He accidentally gets stuck in a locker and discovers that it’s a passageway into the headquarters for NERDS:  National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society.  NERDS is a government-run organization that uses kids (with supercharged “upgrades” that turn their weaknesses into strengths) as secret ops, mainly because kids are so at ease with the technology the job requires.  Also, the fact they’re kids makes them less likely suspects.  When the scanners come upon Jackson, they find his weakness is his teeth, and so his braces are upgraded, making them into offensive and defensive weapons.  When the currently employed NERDS from his school discover he’s found his way into their lair, they are incensed.  Jackson was, until quite recently, the bane of most of their lives, and forgiveness for his bullying ways is slow in coming.

NERDS is a fun middle-grade romp, with a great multicultural cast.  Boys and girls are equally adept using their extraordinary “upgraded” skills, and a girl leads the team (code name Pufferfish, who is allergic to lies and betrayal).  The art, by Ethen Beavers, is wonderfully Cartoon Network-esque, and the chapter breaks are fun takes on ID scanners:  fingerprint, optical scan, and one where the scanner demands cash.  Michael Buckley has already proved his ability to manage a large cast of characters in his Sisters Grimm novels, and that comes in handy here, as there are a lot of names to remember, and code names to boot.  The book does weigh in at over 300 pages, so that may deter less confident readers.  NERDS gives the geeks and underdogs of the world a chance to shine, and that’s something this current Braceface is glad to see.

Preorder NERDS from an independent bookstore!

MY ROTTEN LIFE is a perfect reluctant reader pick, the first in a series about Nathan Abercrombie, who does indeed become a zombie (well, part zombie) through rather bizarre means.  In the hopes of getting rid of the rotten feelings that come with being humiliated every day at middle school by bullies and girls alike, he visits a scientist who is working on a concoction called Hurt-B-Gone.  A large amount of the still-in-testing-phase liquid is sprayed on him, and and when odd effects begin to occur, Nathan tries to see him again, but the scientist is on the run (as he’s got a criminal past).  As days pass, more and more of Nathan becomes, well, dead.  He’s not breathing, he can’t eat (as he’s not digesting, which makes for a comical yet disguisting moment), and as the cover divulges, not all his fingers stay attached at all times.  Still, Nathan has scientist-in-training Abigail (whose uncle got Nathan into this mess to begin with) and his best bud Mookie around to help him through the tough times.  This is classic Lubar, where the jokes come quick and easy, and Nathan’s predicament, while it has its drawbacks, have some advantages for someone trapped in fifth grade.  Starscape also brilliantly put this out in paperback for its launch, so getting this one in kids’ hands will be easier than accidentally spilling serum on someone.  Look for a second book to come in early 2010.

Order this book from an independent bookstore!

Junebug is almost thirteen, and she spends every summer at the Blue Moon Playhouse, a summer stock theatre that her parents own. Her dad is the director (and sometimes the star), her mother designs costumes, and her sister is stepping into her first major role. And Junebug? She’s been just about every sort of backstage worker there is, and is longing to tread the boards herself.

Even more than that, however, she’s longing for her family to return to normal. Her mother’s moved out of their house and back in her mother’s house, three miles away on the other side of the farm where Blue Moon sits. Her parents let them choose where they would spend the summer. Stella and Junebug, both theatre-mad, chose to stay at the Playhouse, while their brother, Beck, always more interested in farming than acting, went with their mother. Junebug’s father has cast himself in the leading role in every play and seems to be eyeing up one of the leading ladies. Stella’s moved into her role as a teenager fully and no longer seems interested in spending any time with her younger sister or doing her share of the chores they are supposed to split.

And to top it all off, Junebug’s father agreed to take on an intern – a weird boy named Trace with a stutter – and has given Junebug the task of “showing him the ropes.” He seems to be an endless resource of theatrical knowledge, which Junebug considers mostly useless and annoying, and privately nicknames him Thespis. Her father makes things even worse when he suggests giving Junebug’s properties job to Trace for one of the plays, leaving Junebug with…nothing. Her mother’s left, her father hardly talks to her, her sister ignores her, her brother’s elsewhere, the Playhouse has smaller audiences than ever, and the new intern takes over the last part of her summer that was going well. Junebug’s familiar, comfortable world seems to be collapsing, and she doesn’t like it one bit.

It will take a lot of changes for Junebug to begin to recognize her world again.

Henson navigates those changes, Junebug’s varying moods, and the dynamics of a family in trouble deftly. The book is written partially in a clever manner that never feels contrived. Several times in each chapter, passages like this appear:

HERE’S HOW I SEE IT:

The curtain falls for the night on my huge Broadway hit. Flowers rain down on my head. Friends gather in my dressing room after the show to congratulate me. Fans wait for me outside the stage door.

“Ms. Cantrell, you were magnificent tonight!”

“Ms. Cantrell, you are an inspiration!”

I try to sign as many autographs as possible before my agent hurries me to my waiting car.

“Ms. Cantrell must rest now,” she says to the crowd. “You must understand. The play is so very demanding.”

My driver takes me home to my hip downtown loft. There are flowers everywhere, from my countless admirers. There are close friends everywhere – actors, directors, artists – and we sit up all night long, talking about life and art and theater.

HERE’S HOW IT IS:

The house is dark and empty. And so I go through every room.

“Lights up!” I command in a Coleman voice, flipping switches, illuminating every dark space.

I hate the dark.

In the kitchen I search the fridge and cabinets, hungry as any MARINER alone on a storm-tossed sea, but (alas, alack) the shelves are bare, except for some old milk and moldy cheese and an inch of peanut butter.

When I began reading, I feared that this stylistic choice might quickly get on my nerves. I was relieved to find out it was just the opposite. Junebug is unhappy for a lot of this book, and also does a decent job of making some of the people around her unhappy. The book could have been pretty depressing. However, she has a real flair for the dramatic (a combination of her background, of course, and of being almost thirteen) so her literary histrionics often lighten the mood considerably.

Henson also has Junebug introduce each new character in a fun, theatrical way:

RAY MONDELLO, character actor; round and jolly; a “hail-fellow-well-met” (that’s Shakespeare for “cool dude”).

COLEMAN, one name only; a light in the dark, Dad calls her, because she was named for a lamp, but also because she’s like a lighthouse on a stormy sea; as Stage Manager, she is the one who keeps everything running smoothly during the show.

I’m a big fan of books set in the theatre. I was in the majority of the school shows from 5th grade on, and during the summer between my junior and senior years, a new summer theatre for young people started up. I attended for two years before becoming first an assistant director and then a director, and when the theatre became year-round, I performed many, many roles there, both onstage and off. Henson gets the theatre stuff dead-on right, which is no surprise – she spent a great many of her childhood summers at a summer stock theatre. You definitely get a full picture of what the experience is like, in a very accessible way.

Highly recommended.

Order the book from an independent bookstore!

In the past year, Neil Gaiman’s Coraline has become a cross-media extravaganza.  By now, most readers of this site should be very familiar with the original novel that crept onto shelves seven years ago, especially in the wake of Gaiman’s Newbery Award last year for The Graveyard Book.  In case anyone needs a refresher, Coraline tells the story of a teenaged girl who moves with her parents into a flat in a country house populated by vaguely disturbing oddballs.  Craving more attention from her parents, Coraline delights in finding a secret passage that leads her into a seemingly better version of her own life.  But things (as you had to figure) are not what they seem, and Coraline soon must confront a threat that tests her mettle and changes her sense of the world.

Probably you know about the recent animated film of the story, crafted by Nightmare Before Christmas director Henry Selick in the same, painstaking stop motion technique that brought that earlier classic to vivid, eerie life.  Selick outdoes himself on Coraline: the narrative pulls the viewer along breathlessly, and the film perfectly captures Gaiman’s characteristic blend of whimsy, wonder, and horror.  Respectful of the material without falling into slavish reverence, Selick adds a young male character whom he incorporates perfectly into the plot.  (Maybe Selick had to add the boy to assuage somebody’s fear about pulling in a male audience, but feminism wins out; Coraline has to save him.)  Selick’s visual imagination matches anything you’ve seen in an animated feature, especially in the film’s 3D version.  Early reports on the DVD/Blu-ray release have panned the attempt to translate the 3D effects for the small screen, but the regular version will do you just fine.  At a time when Pixar has brought animated features to new heights, Coraline the film stands up to, well, Up, or anything else.

Probably you don’t know about Coraline the graphic novel, and if so you’re missing something great.  P. Craig Russell adapted the book, as he recently adapted one of Gaiman’s Sandman stories, The Dream Hunters.  Russell has adapted everything from Wagner to Wilde in his thirty-plus year career; he’s like the Kenneth Branagh of comics, but more diverse in his tastes and more consistent in his results.  Russell’s Coraline has smoother fantasy sheen than Selick’s spiky Gorey-isms, substitutes poetic beauty for Selick’s eye-popping visual magic, and hews more closely to the novel while creating the same sense that the story was designed for this particular medium.  Enjoy these two adaptations one after the other and you’ll get a sense of the broad expanse of emotion and imagination that Gaiman’s tale can traverse.

Almost certainly you haven’t seen the off-Broadway musical presentation of Coraline, adapted by David Greenspan with songs by Stephin Merritt of the brilliant band Magnetic Fields.  You should keep it that way.  I’ll confess that I take a dim view of most musical theater, but this is exactly the kind of departure my lot should go for – spare, edgy, with pop-identified music.  Unfortunately, absolutely nothing on the stage of the Lucille Lortel Theatre worked for me.  The problems begin with the creepily outfitted but simple and static set, which constantly requires characters to say things like “I’m outside now”; continue through the sparse, monotonous use of percussion and a single pianist to breathe life into Merritt’s excessively fussy songs; and reach a nadir when a middle-aged actress, Jane Houdyshell, takes the stage as Coraline – whose narrative arc is meant to say something about how kids relate to the adult world.  I like Brechtian distancing as much as the next lefty, but if you’re going to hold a fantasy at a far emotional remove, you’d better have something to say, and this show doesn’t.