Devon Trevarrow Flaherty's Blog, page 47

Book Review: One Crazy Summer

[image error]I found One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia on a list of recommended reading for fourth or fifth grade, and we finally got around to it this year. I didn’t really know what I was about to read, though I could see all those awards, all but covering the front of the book. I enjoyed it. It’s destined to become an American children’s classic and kept on reading lists for many years to come. My son liked it too, but it didn’t make it to either of our favorites list. Still, worth the read and I would recommend it, especially when in the middle of studying modern American history.

The writing is nice. The characters are engaging. The story is interesting enough (though not as dramatic as it could be, I suppose). The topics are important and engaging. And that’s really what this book is about. It would be cute on its own, but the author really wants the reader to head on back to LA/Oakland during the days of race riots and Black Panthers and put themselves in the shoes of a motherless, spunky black girl who would prefer to have a fun summer, but is called up to a whole lotta responsibility.

The characters are really charming. But don’t be fooled. You shouldn’t just hand this book to a kid and walk away. There needs to be discussion, even if it is just about the terms used in this book (like “negro” and “colored”). You really have to discuss the historical context, as well, because kids this age simply don’t have a context yet for plenty of the situations in this book.

But once the explanations and context are given, it’s a great read, and I was sad to say goodbye to Delphine, at the end.

Note: the ending may be a little disappointing from a psychological or relational standpoint. While perhaps realistic, we are left grasping for a moral or a happy ending, much like the main character is.

Author Review: The Brothers Grimm

[image error]In all the slickness of the modern world and with my kids’ gut-level avoidance of “old” movies and books, I’m always so surprised by their love of traditional fables and fairy-tales. Their most beloved book (together) growing up was this random book of fables that used to make regular appearances at bedtime. They loved to read that book together. Still, when I put some fables and fairy tales into our fifth grade curriculum for my son, I wasn’t sure he would enjoy them. Lo and behold, he loved reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales. (We read the Puffin’s classics version. We will also be reading Hans Christen Andersen’s Fairy Tales, The Blue Fairy Book, and Aesop’s Fables before the end of the year.) Perhaps he wouldn’t want to announce it to his friends or have a fairy tale birthday party, but there’s something about these old stories that has always captured the attention and imagination of my children.

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There’s some moments. Because the stories are old, there are some culture chasms that just won’t be spanned. Most of them, in this book, are laughable, which is good. I mean, some of the stories are just truly bizarre and follow no pattern of character or plot that we can identify. On the other hand, there is a history of the fables in our Puffin Classics volume which I would recommend reading first, and it helps to account for some of the oddities: these were oral stories gathered by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm from out-of-the-way places, translated into written form in a number of different ways. They’re also not as dark or violent as modern people are wont to make them out to be in intellectual conversation, or at least the ones in the Puffin Classics volume aren’t. That volume is not a complete compilation, but a curated collection.

Just read them, enjoy them, laugh at them, talk about them. They’re classics, and my kids, for one, love them.

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If you want to then make a leap to more modern stuff, there is a deep library of books, shows, and movies based on the old stories. Some of them are a stretch, and there is almost no end to all the currently available fractured fairy tale stuff. And of course, there are a zillion illustrated versions of the actual fairy tales, which I won’t go into listing, as well as getting your hands on a complete collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Just head to any library or bookstore.

To recommend a few things:

[image error]The Princess and the Frog (Disney movie, 2009)
Into the Woods (movie, 2014)
Cinderella (Disney movie, 1950)
Cinderella (movie, 2015)
Ever After (movie, 1998)
Snow White (Disney movie, 1937)
Mirror, Mirror (movie, 2012)
Sleeping Beauty (Disney movie, 1959)
Meleficent (movie, 2014)
Hoodwinked (animated movie, 2005)
Shrek series, (movies, 2001, 2004, 2007, 2010)
Tangled (2010)
Red Riding Hood (movie, 2011, for much older kids)
Once Upon a Time (TV series, 2011-2018)
Grimm (TV series, 2011-2017, for grown-ups)
The Brothers Grimm (movie, 2005)
A Tale Dark and Grimm (book, Adam Gidwitz)
The Sisters Grimm series (MG books, Michael Buckley)
Cinder series (YA books, Marinda Meyer)

Book Review: Inside Out and Back Again

[image error]The first thing you’ll want to know about this book—for better or worse—is that it is a novella in poem form. Of course, even if you don’t know it, you’ll notice it the second you open the book. A pleasant free verse type of poetry, it is a painless way to introduce poetry into a child’s life. Some kids are going to find Inside Out and Back Again harder to understand than the usual novel, but I think it’s worth the try.

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Thanhha Lai.","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"lai","orientation":"0"}" data-image-title="lai" data-image-description="" data-medium-file="https://devontrevarrowflaherty.files...." data-large-file="https://devontrevarrowflaherty.files...." class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-7415" src="https://devontrevarrowflaherty.files...." alt="lai" width="150" height="150" srcset="https://devontrevarrowflaherty.files.... 150w, https://devontrevarrowflaherty.files.... 300w" sizes="(max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px" />Written by a Vietnam War refugee—Thanhha Lai–the book is based on her own journey from Vietnam to America and her first year in the South. Supposedly, the book was written in free verse because it sounds more like  Vietnamese. Also, Lai wrote a novel instead of her own memoir in order to avoid the sticky situations that arise with memoirs. At the end of the day, the book took home a number of awards (National Book Award and Newbery) and is a New York Times bestseller. It is also destined to be required reading for many American children in the upper-el, junior high category.

Not my son’s favorite book, he nonetheless liked it enough not to complain about the poetry. Normally excellent at comprehension, there were times when he missed something because of the language or when he had to ask a question because of the history. The book would couple well with a unit on free verse poetry and one on the Vietnam War. As a homeschool mom, I’m always on the lookout for stuff like this (though it’s too late for us on this one). In hindsight, this book would be great to read during history of the modern era, when one arrives in the 60s (along with the next book I’m going to review, One Crazy Summer).

Would you read this book just to enjoy it, though? While I believe it is best as a pleasant history lesson, I think you could read it for enjoyment, especially if you are a kid who happens to enjoy poetry. I was that kid, and I think I would have liked this book largely for the word choices and how the main character feels about her new language. (English really does hiss a lot, doesn’t it?) The reader does develop questions which they want answered, but the timing of the book is not plot-driven, exactly. In other words, your questions get answered and the book goes on to the next thing. You keep reading because you’re interested in the history or you are enjoying the reading in and of itself. Somehow, the subject matter–while very heavy when you parse it out: war, emigration, racism, death of a parent, poverty, etc.–feels bearable, even light, in this telling. I suppose you could be interested in the characters, but because of the free verse style, there are not so many words in this book, and the characters are more sketches than detailed characters.

Speaking of brevity, some people could read this book in an afternoon. The word count is a mere 22,000 words (which the internet estimates the average reader will read in under 6 hours).

I do recommend this book, especially for 4th-6th graders studying modern history. There’s plenty here both to enjoy and to digest. Go buy a papaya, cut it up, and dig in.

Cookbook Review: Deep Run Roots

[image error]I am picky about what cookbooks I buy, so my cookbook review should mostly be positive. Deep Run Roots, the much-anticipated book by Vivian Howard, is a hefty, pretty thing with an IACP Cookbook of the Year emblem on it, as well as “New York Times Bestseller” emblazoned across the top. Still in doubt? The cover also informs you that the author is a Peabody Award winner for her show, A Chef’s Life. That’s where this whole thing came from, anyhow; A Chef’s Life. It’s how the book came to be, the attention, and it’s also how I came to own the book.

In a recent conversation with friends, I explained that I didn’t have just one top dream vacation, because there are five different reasons you vacation: adventure, romance, literature (art/culture), relaxation, and food. My husband understands that I think this way (though his list would probably just include history and relaxation), so he keeps it in mind when we approach our anniversary, every year. We’re not at a place where we just a place to Thailand to vacation (yet), so we find great destinations as close to home as possible. (Sometimes in our own city, bless its foodie heart.) Last year–plenty early–we came up with the idea to go to none other than middle-of-nowehere Kinston, North Carolina.

Kinston, despite the odds, has become a destination vacation. Maybe not for everybody, but for way more people than you would guess. Vivian Howard, a native to the area, went away to New York City awhile ago, became a fancy chef, and then returned home with her fancy New York City husband, though she never thought any of that would happen. She ended up getting super curious and even passionate about the local cuisine and culture and pitched a PBS show that took off like gangbusters. Several seasons later, Vivian’s restaurants–the swanky The Chef and the Farmer and the more approachable The Boiler Room–prompt people just like us to visit rural Eastern North Carolina. We also got to stay at a cottage on one of the farms (Brothers Farm) that is featured regularly in the show, which means we also got to meet Warren and Lillie, two of the people on the show. We couldn’t finish up our stay without buying the new cookbook.

(It was, by the way, a great getaway, and I would recommend doing just what we did, as well as taking in some of the other restaurants in Kinston, visiting Nahunta Pork Center and the antiques store downtown, and staying either at a B and B on a farm or The O’Neil Hotel. Brothers Farm is not currently open, though it was a great place to stay.)

Here is my caveat: I am skeptical of cookbooks with too many pictures. I know they’re all the rage, but I actually use my cookbooks, and use them hard. I want lots of recipes and I want them to be good, and I am definitely going to prop that book up next to the stove and sling sauces and powders around it with determined fury. All those photos, to me, just mean money and space and a small guilty feeling when oil spatters on them. Don’t get me wrong: I love beauty. I have coffee table books. And then I have cookbooks.

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This book is full of beautiful photos. And it is far bigger than it would need to be if it were just a cookbook. Then again, it isn’t just a cookbook. It’s a personal journey, a cultural ode, and a love letter to Eastern North Carolina’s people, as well as a cookbook. In that sense, the marginless, high-def photos could be justified. But how does the cookbook stack up without them? Are they just gloss without any content?

Nah. The cookbook is full of information, tips, human interest, and–duh-duh-duh-duh!–great recipes. A few of the recipes are straight-forward (though she always justifies these with a circular journey and a heart-warming story), but most of them are creative, one-of-a-kind concoctions that it clearly took her time and experience to perfect, but that she has made accessible to the home cook. I love it when a cookbook author has a palate similar to mine, and hers seems to be. In other words, we like the same things. (However, I am allergic to both okra and collard greens, so two sections of the book are almost useless to me.)

There is no doubt that Howard is a talented chef. She’s also a very hard worker. I’m not sure her and I would be besties, but I really appreciate her insatiable curiosity and her willingness to seek out answers in the real world. Her humility and respect for others is, I’m pretty sure, what draws viewers to her show and what has made her a darling of North Carolina.

If you have seen the show and like it, you’ll like the book. It’s very similar; broken down into important Southern ingredients and woven with both Vivian’s story and her relationships with those around her and with a charming mix of journey and information. Then you can either throw it on the coffee table or on your sideboard–your choice. There are other great Southern cooking cookbooks, but I would definitely recommend this Eastern North Carolina one for your cookbook collection.

Recipes I can’t wait to try:

Stewed Tomato Shirred Eggs with Ham Chips
Slow Roasted Beef Short Ribs with Turnip Puree and Gremolata
Bacon Wrapped Watermelon Rind Pickles
Butterbean Hummus with Marinated Peppers
Chocolate Fig Gravy
Cocktail Tomatoes with Brown Butter Scallops
Sausage Balls and Dirty Faro
Peanut, Pepsi, and Bourbon Float
etc.

Book Review: Shiloh

[image error]Another month, another read-aloud middle grades novel about nature, pets, and a boy coming of age. After the last few classics with their super sad endings, my son and I were both hoping for Shiloh, by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, to be more light-hearted. I wouldn’t call it light-hearted, but I would say you don’t have to be scared of the ending. No one shoots their dog in this one. Phew!

Shiloh is not quite a classic, though it appears on many reading lists and recommended readings. It’s about a tween boy growing up poor in the mountains of West Virginia. It felt old-timey to my son, but part of this is from the lack of bells and whistles in your life if you are rural and poor, so there were lessons to be learned by reading this. The story really takes place sometime in the eighties, maybe nineties. The boy, Marty, wants a dog, but his family can’t afford one. He’s a really soft-hearted kid, and when he finds a dog which he suspects of having been abused, he questions his own morals in order to save it.

I love that the parents are both kind and parental. I love that Marty breaks the rules, struggles with his moral compass, tries so hard to do right and grow up… I’m not real sure I like the way all of it plays out in the end (I think it might be a bit confusing as far as a moral goes), but the narrative does value things like sticking to your guns and questions things like judging others based on social relationships. All the characters, including Marty, have their strengths and their flaws.

The writing itself is clean, but not very descriptive and not anything to knock your socks off. In fact, my son was having a hard time envisioning what was happening at times, because there was just so little in the way of description. I love a great, dense scene-setting, but these scenes were mostly implied, using what you might already know about places like it coupled with just a few suggestions. In other words, things were “bridges” or “rivers” or “house with four rooms,” but that’s all. What was in the field? How big was the field? What did the sky look like?

My son enjoyed the story. We both wanted to know what was going to happen to Marty and Shiloh, and Judd Travers made a pretty good villain. It was a tense one.

I recommend it if you are interested in books like my son is, about nature, pets, and/or pre-teen boys. And growing up. It would be a good, short chapter book for someone in late elementary school or early junior high.

PS. If you find dog licking gross, this is NOT the book for you.

Book Review: Old Yeller

[image error]I was reluctant to read Old Yeller by Fred Gipson to my son. I had never read it, but I knew, just from being an observant American, that it was not going to end well. My son loves books with boys in nature, especially involving animals and coming-of-age, but we had already endured Where the Red Fern Grows and Sign of the Beaver, which—even though my son loved them—took some emotional endurance. Perhaps we ought to change gears? So after a couple buffer books we dove in.

Halfway through the book, I was telling him to go find “Poor Yeller” so we could read for the night. He didn’t like that. “Mom! Quit calling him Poor Yeller!” Then I would pout, “But he is Poor Yeller. I can tell.” My son could, too. And in fact, Old Yeller is a great book for teaching foreshadowing, as it has distinctly identifiable scenes of foreshadowing and set-ups. “You see this here? See what the author just said? What is this going to mean for Old Yeller?” Poor. Yeller.

Even so, it’s a classic tale with an interesting setting and engaging characters. I didn’t have a clue, but it takes place in Texas at the turn of the last century. Travis and his family are fairly isolated pioneers and essentially farmers. His dad has to go on a cattle drive, so fourteen-year-old Travis is left in charge of the homestead, which contains his stalwart mother and a mischievous five-year-old Little Arliss. The suggestion is made that the boy needs a reliable dog to help with the many difficulties of the pioneer life, and lo and behold, one shows up, a real fireball. The story that follows is about maturity, loyalty, and sacrifice, and Travis has to grow up pretty fast.

It’s hard for me to believe that so many people like this book, just because it is so specific to a historical place and time and also so very boyish. I had the same disbelief while reading Where the Red Fern Grows. On the other hand, I accept it, because it is a great story told in a clean way. Personally, I miss description and some flowery language/acrobatics, but the sparseness and lack of nonsense might be what makes it enduring and approachable. It’s a quick read. It might be a little obvious. But I would definitely recommend it, especially if coming-of-age and nature are your thang. Just be warned: there is a rather brutal scene (though very brief) that my son found difficult, even though it was not totally out of the blue. Not an easy read, but a classic one.

Series Review: Calpurnia Tate

[image error]These two books—The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate and The Curious World of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly—have been sitting on my daughter’s shelf for a while, and I think that she’s just about outgrown them before she even got to read them. On the other hand, she may come back to them as an adult, because as a grown-up who enjoys children’s literature and YA, I found these to be super charming. Just maybe not for high schoolers. Middle Grades and teachers and moms.

The first book starts out immediately charming the reader. The setting, the main character, the characters around her, and the set-up: Calpurnia Tate, also known as Callie Vee, is the only daughter (surrounded by brothers) of a prominent, wealthy family (which owns the town’s cotton gin) in a smallish Texan town. It is 1899 and twelve-year-old Callie feels like she doesn’t fit her life. She accidentally falls into a relationship with her curmudgeonly, live-in grandfather and the discovery that she wants to be a scientist, not a debutante. Each chapter starts with a cleverly chose quote from Charles Darwin, and the whole book is infused with a lovely optimism about the future of America, science, and technology.

I was on the edge of my seat, partly because I wanted to find out what would happen to Calpurnia and her plant, but also because I was afraid of the ending. Yes, afraid. It seemed to me I was reading a book I wanted to love, but that had a potentially dangerous conclusion. In the end, it almost didn’t have a conclusion, which was disappointing, but perhaps not as disappointing as the ending I feared. You see, Callie Vee develops a disrespect and even contempt of the domestic life and many things that are traditionally feminine (which, since she’s a tween, makes sense. For the omniscient narrator to adopt the same contempt would be a mistake. And I couldn’t quite tell which was happening). What I wanted to happen was for Calpurnia to come into her own, have hope and possibility and courage and intelligence, but to also come to respect the women around her who did embrace domesticity (her mother, cook, and best friend). Ending the way the first book does, I feel is quite a missed opportunity. The book ended before any of those things could happen–for good or bad–which felt very dangly.

[image error]The second book, on the other hand, has less of an overarching plot and less urgency. It’s like vignettes which fans of Calpurnia might enjoy for their own sake. But I would say that it is not a must-read. The first book, though? It’s hard to say. I really enjoyed it and if it had a stronger ending I would unabashedly force it on people. But as it is? I would still recommend it for its historical perspective, its charm, etc. But it doesn’t add much to the modern conversation, until you go beyond what is in the book. So recommend, with one sizable reservation.

Author Review: Roald Dahl Novellas

My fifth-grade son has finally started reading novels on his own, and I am very happy to announce that his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth novels are by Roald Dahl. If you didn’t catch it already on the blog somewhere, I am a huge Roald Dahl fan, and so I of course would prefer him reading that than, say, The Magic Treehouse. I was hoping the humor, grit, and childishness would capture him, and it did. Sometimes he even reads more than what I assign him for the day, and I also sometimes catch him chuckling to himself. (Do ten-year-olds chuckle? Perhaps he’s giggling.)

To accomplish this, I curated a small stack of Dahl books which were visibly short, with illustrations. These struck my son as way less daunting than the classics and/or fantasy books we usually read together. Dahl’s books often are short and, well, not sweet—rather rowdy and irreverent—but these are some of his shortest, some of them not even technically novellas.

Here’s what he’s read:

[image error]The Enormous Crocodile. This book is probably more of a short story than a novella, so it was really a great place to start for my reluctant reader. The illustrations in our copy were in color and were more abundant than the chapter books, though still those classic, crude drawings by Quentin Blake (the original illustrator of most of Dahl’s works, which are often identified with Dahl). My son does sometimes complain about the skill level apparent in the illustrations, but I think they’re more of an acquired taste. Either that, or you just accept them and read past them. The Enormous Crocodile is about a crocodile who leaves the river to trick some children into being eaten. He boasts of his clever plans all through the jungle, and the other creatures don’t share his taste for either children or trickery, so they do what they can to thwart his plans. My son’s favorite line of the story is the last. You’ll have to read it to find out what that is.

[image error]George’s Marvelous Medicine. This is another short one, but has chapters and (black and white) less illustrations. In this story, George goes to stay with his grandmother, who is a crazy, devious, old lady. To get back at her, little George mixes a number of things from the house pantry, medicine cabinet, and closet to make a “medicine.” He gives it to her and then to a number of different creatures, resulting in some rather magical results. With a new friend, he embarks on a plan to manufacture and market the stuff. It’s more of the Roald Dahl absurd fun (and sometimes rudeness and crassness) and I recommend it with this caveat: please remind your children that mixing together random chemicals is very dangerous. If they are intrigued, make them a “potion bar” with edible ingredients and let them play.

[image error]The Twits. Of what I had previously read of Roald Dahl, this was always my least favorite book, though it is one of his secondary most-popular. If you think some of Dahl’s other stuff is controversial or base, this book may take that cake. It is about a family of—well—twits, or unintelligent, unrefined people. They are mean and foul and they just get up to some stuff playing over-the-top pranks on each other and that’s about it. The ten-year-old laughed. Mom was properly appalled.

[image error]Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now, there’s no doubt that you know this story, probably from either the Gene Wilder or Tim Burton (or both) movie. Both of those movies pretty closely follow the book in both plot and tone. Charlie is poor. His four grandparents share one bed. He wins the coveted golden ticket. [image error]Grandpa Joe gets miraculously from the bed and takes Charlie on his exclusive tour of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Oompa Loompas, bad-egg children, and antics ensue in room after room and misadventure after misadventure. You probably know the ending, too, but if you have a child who doesn’t, yet, this would be a great read and then family movie night.

[image error]James and the Giant Peach. This one also has a decent (stop-motion) movie to watch after reading, but it’s not as classic as the Charlie movies. The book, on the other hand, is probably more popular. [image error]It’s Dahl standard, with its small child who encounters a baffling world and terrible characters and overcomes through endurance and innocence. Little James, in this instance, takes a trans-Atlantic trip in a giant peach (you read it right), along with a handful of colorful, non-human characters. Laughter. Magic. Inappropriateness. Juvenility. And, above all, a real sense of meeting kids where they are in their own head-space.

I recommend them all, which is not a surprise. I had not read the shortest ones before now, but they’re just as Dahlesque and oddly endearing as the rest of his cannon.

To find out more about Roald Dahl, see my review of Boy, his autobiography, HERE.

Series Review: Alice in Wonderland

[image error]I was looking forward to reading Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (for us, bound in one volume) out to my son, because I remember having enjoyed them in high school. To this day, one of my very favorite poems is “The Jabberwocky,” from Looking Glass. What I found, unsurprisingly, was a surprise. My experience with the books, as an adult, is so different from what it was as a child.

When I was in my teens, this book felt pleasantly unsettling, like I had drunk too much cherry cordial and wandered into a circus. I think this was partly because of the language but also because of the vivid, memorable images (many of which have become icons). I could really get lost in Wonderland, even if I did often have a little bit of a hangover, and never came to list it among my “faves.”

[image error]When I was in my thirties (still, I’m hanging on to that), I sort of stumped through the story, left without a plot and mystified that children can enjoy this (though they often do). It seems to me that the language play is much too advanced for children (and maybe it is over their heads). Could it be that the nonsense is engaging younger readers while all the literary play is engaging the older? Yes, I think perhaps that it is one of those rare, truly family entertainments.

My son, at ten years old, tolerated the book. I enjoyed it while feeling like I had lost a level of experiencing it when I grew up. It really is—plotwise—a bunch of nonsense with very cliché, anticlimactic endings, but it is entertaining nonetheless. It is also a dense forest of wordplay fit for the most grammar-nerd-ly among us. And it’s a part of us, in the Western world. It seems very important in the scheme of things, Carrol talking nonsense to kids and then actually enjoying it, paving the way for all sorts of childlike entertainment.

Note: There is no reason to believe any of the overexcited drivel that Carroll was on or referencing drugs in his books. There’s just no evidence for either, though it was a popular theory in the 60s (which probably says more about the 60s than Alice).

A recommended classic, but just be ready for almost no plot or character development: it’s not a conventional tale. Everything else will dazzle.

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MOVIES

There are many movies to talk about here, but I’ll stick to a few obvious ones: Disney animation, Tim Burton, and Tim Burton. For other options, you’ll have to google it. And there might be a few older movies and PBS adaptations that are worth watching, but there is also value in the three big productions. (There was a TV series that was a spin-off of Once Upon a Time, that looked so promising, in 2013, but it turned out to be a dud and lasted only one season.)

[image error]1951, Alice in Wonderland, Disney animation. If you haven’t seen this… It’s so classic that many kids will balk at it right from the beginning. The animation style and just about everything about it is outdated. Still, watching it is as much a trip to the time period as it was a trip to Wonderland. Those saturated colors! That heavily outlined rendering! The trippiness! It embraces the nonsense but does downplay the word play, I suppose. It’s worth watching, especially if you like animation, old movies, or Disney.

[image error]2010, Alice in Wonderland, Tim Burton. This is another one worth renting, and it’s also likely that you’ve already seen it. It didn’t go over as well as expected at the time, but it has become a cult classic—or at least Johnny Depp’s character has become a sort of icon with the crazy eyes and the wild, red hair. It does get a little dark at spots, so not as appropriate for children as the last one mentioned. Still plenty trippy and a little crazy, but more plot-driven than the book.

[image error]2016, Alice Through the Looking Glass, Tim Burton. A sequel to the above movie, it is fairly equal to it as well, at least for a sequel. They’re both a feast for the eyes, playful and dark, and generally well-acted. The second one, if I remember correctly, goes further afield with the plot and deeply explores supporting characters. In the books, all characters are grazed, so it’s lots of back story that is new. Again, worth the watch for more people.

How I Review a Book

I admit that my book reviews have not been very even. I intend to review a whole lot of great literature over the years, but my progress has been uneven and my writing of the reviews has also been uneven. I spend more time keeping up with my kids, for example, so review more Middle Grades and homeschool books than I do current chart-toppers. Sometimes I am in the groove and write very consciously about a book I just read. Sometimes it’s been months since I finished and my brain is fried from everyday life, anyways. Sometimes I lean more toward the history of the book, or the author, or the critical acclaim, or my visceral experience. See? Uneven. Sometimes I’m happy with my review. Oftentimes I’m not. (Partly, this is because I would love every review to be favorable, but they can’t all be if they are to be honest.)

After reading a New York Book Review review on a book last night (sometimes I do a little field research before I express my own opinion), I got to thinking about my own review writing. While this particular review was very—ahem—specialized to the cerebral, high-falootin’ world of literary criticism, I felt like asking myself, What perspective am I reviewing from?

Certainly, these high-falooters would not be impressed with my reviews. Given. But I am a writer and I am, believe it or not, educated and highly intelligent. But I am a bit different from many artists: I have very strong logical and practical sides. I’m both an idealist and a realist. So when I review, I’m not really all that interested in the official opinion. This is what I am expressing:

My own experience with it. Did I enjoy it? Did I want to keep reading it? Did I learn something from it? Would I read it again?
The technical correctness of it. According to people like White and Strunk, was it closer to flawless than messed up? Where there typos and grammatical errors? Was it cliché? Was it clean? Did the writing flow enough that I forgot I was even reading? As a bonus, was the writing so good that it took my breath away?
Its novelty. Did it contribute to the cannon? Did it say something new, even in a traditional way? Was it interesting?
Its conventionality. Did the characters engage me? Did they grow? Was I held in suspense? Did I go to another place and time? Could I identify? Might I have even changed, myself? Did I want to turn the page?
Its utility. Did it do what it was supposed to do?

And then, I suppose, I explore where the book came from, who the book came from, and what others have thought about it. I do wish that every review could be more thorough, but I simply don’t have enough time or energy to give every blog my all. In the end, at least I’ll be able to look back and discover what I thought about a book so that I can converse intelligently about it and move on. For my audience, I would hope that my honesty will pay off for you and that if we have like minds I can lead you to your next favorite book and steer you around a waste of your time.