Monsters Eat Whiny Children

MONSTERS EAT WHINY CHILDREN
Written and Illustrated by Bruce Eric Kaplan
Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing (2010)
Ages 4-8

I zeroed in on this book the other day because it had just about everything going for it that screamed READ ME:

• The title, which does not leave me wondering if the trajectory of the plot will be on point. I already know where this story is going and I want to watch it unfold.
• The back cover, which reads, "The crumbs are the best part." Okay. Now I know this is going to be brash, dark humor. Love it.
• The color and illustrations, which are simple, bold cartoon style.(Very raw and monsterish.)
• The inside cover pages, which display a map of the children's neighborhood, including this gem: "Store where people think Eve is a boy." It's one of those random, quirky details that tell me this book will not be the usual fare.

As I read the story—about a brother and sister who, despite the warnings from their "kindly father," continue to whine until they are taken by a monster to his lair "in the bad side of town"—I immediately felt an old conflict rising inside my gut (and it wasn't dinner). Here was a fabulous concept with off-beat twists...but the story had all the hallmarks of a writer for adults (Kaplan wrote for Seinfeld and Six Feet Under) who has just written his first children's book.

I love television writers. They're quick, witty, sharp and edgy—all qualities that, when combined with proven conventions of children's literature, could make for a dynamite story. But the key word is, conventions. There's a reason children's writers study them, practice them, and are rejected for years until they get them right: THEY WORK.

I think one of my biggest disappointments in MONSTERS EAT WHINY CHILDREN is that, while it's still a fun read, it could have been so much better. If only a few simple conventions were adhered to:

Make the children the protagonists. In MONSTERS, the protagonists are the "adults" (the monsters) and not the kids. How much more lively and empowering it would have been to see the kids get themselves into trouble, then deeper and deeper trouble as they tried to fix the problem; instead, the story shows us the monsters making all the decisions and mistakes, which his falls under "those dumb grown ups" category. (Yawn)

Stick to the rule of three. It's hard to tell how many problems and turns this story takes. It's a little muddled in this regard. The monster makes a whiny child salad, but the monster's wife doesn't like the dressing. So they make a new dressing, but the neighbor shows up and says they should be making whiny child burgers. But they have trouble with the grill... You get the picture. It's a very adult daily life sort of problem, which is fun to laugh at, but how much better would it have been if the children had been outwitting them or doing something (anything) to affect the storyline?

In the end, the children find a way out, but they didn't earn their way there. So, from my perspective, it felt much less satisfying.

Does this lessen the enjoyment of a reader? Probably not. On the other hand, why not make the most of a promising story and, at the same time, maintain the quality of of craft that we all want young readers to recognize and expect as they grow into the world of literature and life?

About my reviews:
My comments and reactions to the books I read are not so much reader-type reviews as they are my experience of the story as a writer studying the craft. I write them to examine what makes a story work.

BOOM

I've been trying a different approach to book reviewing, which is to discuss only those books I have positive things to say about—ergo, the long stretches of silence.

It's not as though I haven't been reading or doing anything interesting; I've been trying to be nice. And, frankly, it's killing me. I'm a person with strong convictions. Strong doesn't mix with nice, which has always felt fairly gutless, even if it's for a good cause.

But who am I kidding? I read with undiluted passion, eager to find rare gems, disappointed when the stories fall short, and a muttering hot mess when my favorites don't get the recognition they deserve. I don't want to be this picky. In fact, I long for the days of pre-educated reading when I could get lost in a story and simply enjoy it without noticing moments of clumsy craft.

I wondered. Could I revert to those days? Could I randomly sift through the bookshelves and see what appealed to me, just like a regular person?

Yes I could. And this is what I found:

I'm not sure what drew me to this book. It certainly wasn't the fact that the author, Mark Haddon, wrote THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHTTIME...because I detested that book.

It wasn't for the blurbs. (There were none.)

Or the blog buzz. (The book was originally published in 1992 under the title GRIDZBI SPUDVETCH! and revised/released again in 2009)

Or the cover. (It's orange, with a rocket. Big whoop.)

What grabbed my attention was the immediate engagement of Haddon's writing on the first page—his clipped, breezy style and unpretentious humor. Nothing about this book is striving for higher ground. It is what it is.

And here's what it's about: Two boys overhear their teachers talking in a strange language and decide to investigate. Before they know it, the entire planet is at risk; and worse, their parents are going to be really upset.

There's an out-of-work dad, a work-obsessed mom, a sister's criminally thuggish boyfriend and a lot of smashing, crashing, injury-inducing mishaps. What you will not find is any great character development or meaningful growth. The main character—Jimbo—sleeps through a few key plot turns (because it just feels good to sleep, right?) and falls out of step with the action. No clever craft techniques or plot twists. Nothing along the lines of outrage that this book did not win any awards.

But guess what? I didn't mind. It was just plain fun to read. It reminded me a bit of M.T. Anderson's WHALES ON STILTS (wherein whales on stilts are trying to take over the world), and well, I sure wouldn't mind being on his playing field.

In fact, I wouldn't mind if all I ever wrote were fun stories like BOOM! that provided a little escape from a pretty treacherous world.


Source: I bought my copy at Orca Books.

A Book in Flight

NO PASSENGERS BEYOND THIS POINT
by Gennifer Choldenko
Dial Books for Young Readers
ages 10 and up

Gennifer Choldenko's newest arrival, NO PASSENGERS BEYOND THIS POINT, delivers a rare blend of skillful craft and great storytelling that captures the hard-to-bottle quality of a book that, once it takes off, cannot be put down.

In this reality-bending story of three siblings whose world has been uprooted through the foreclosure of their home and forced relocation to another state (without their mother), Choldenko manages to pull off the extraordinary.

She effortlessly transports her characters to another plane of existence that is as understandable as it is mystifying, inviting the reader to put the pieces together without feeling overwhelmed or confused. Nothing about what happens to the three young protagonists should make sense, but it does. And that is the beauty of this refreshing novel.

The story is told through three points of view: India, a self-obsessed fourteen-year old striving for independence; Finn, a reliable man-of-the-house twelve-year old saddled with being forgettable in the eyes of his peers; and Mouse, their brilliant six-year-old sister with an equally brilliant invisible friend (Bing).

This narrative approach works beautifully, especially when the kids' flight to Denver takes an inexplicable detour to Falling Bird, a place known only by what it is not. In fact, Falling Bird is littered with signs indicating an endless assortment of "Nots"—Not Las Vegas, Not Albuquerque, Not Denver. Once separated, the different narrations serve to heighten the tension and deepen the storyline.

Falling Bird operates with its own strange, dreamlike logic built from elements of real life. Each of the kids has his and her own home that satisfies every desire, right down to a "cool mom" for India, a "dad" for Finn and plenty of explosive crafts for Mouse. And yet, all is not well in this world where new arrivals are welcomed like rock stars. For one thing, they have to choose to be citizens of Falling Bird and never see their mother again, or forever be passengers looking for a flight that doesn't depart.

Choldenko wastes no detail, making every element work double and triple duty to drive the narrative through character motivation, rather than exterior plot. India, Finn and Mouse create their own outcomes according to their individual flaws and desires—digging themselves to varying depths of difficulty (India more so than her siblings). Not only do they have to solve the puzzle of Falling Bird and find a way out of a place no one leaves, they have to overcome their own individual and collective challenges.

I'm not sure if the targeted reader will be able to tell what's really going on in Falling Bird, or if Choldenko intended to keep it a mystery to the end. I knew right away (though I will be mum about it here), but my knowing did not diminish the enjoyment or suspense; in fact, it was enhanced. So, either way, the story works beautifully.

It's not often I read a book that I get this excited about. It's the perfect middle grade attention-grabber for boys and girls alike. If you haven't already put it on your TRB list, get it on there!


Source: I bought my copy at Orca Books.

Review: Moon Over Manifest

It's difficult not to take some things personally, especially when it comes to missing the arrival a great book; so when Clare Vanderpool's MOON OVER MANIFEST won the 2011 Newbery Award, I somehow managed to think it was a personal failure to not have known about it. Worse, because I'd had my favorites already in place, I questioned the right of this book to pop up out of nowhere (or, at least, nowhere I was looking).

I decided to read it and report my findings, but ran into a snag: how could I review a book without measuring it by the highest standard of children's literature? I can't. It's impossible for me to look at it without picking apart the bones to see how it holds up against those that came before it.

What I can say, after finally having read it, is that Vanderpool deserves her day in the sun for overcoming some complicated storytelling hurdles to deliver a story with breadth and depth. Her tale of twelve-year Abilene—whose father sends her away from their itinerant life to spend the summer in Manifest, Kansas—shifts from the present (1939) to the past (1918) as Abilene digs for clues to mysteries surrounding this small town burdened by a secret past.

There's a lot of ground to cover without ever stepping outside the tiny footprint of Manifest, including: an alleged WWI spy known as the Rattler; the dirty dealings of the Klu Klux Klan; an oppressive mine owner who commands the town and all its immigrants; local boys off to war; a bootlegging preacher; influenza; Hungarian diviner; and, last but not least, letters and mementos left behind by a boy on the run...a boy Abilene thinks just might be her father. Whew.

Vanderpool unravels these many threads through multiple points of view that give the story its movement as well as its continuity between the two time periods: Abilene's first person narration; letters from a WWI soldier; old news excerpts; and third-person vignettes told by a "diviner" who recounts the past as though it is being relived. She deserves kudos for doing something I don't see done very often or very well: alternating between two time periods without upsetting the story or the reader (who may become attached to one era and resent the jarring).

It could be that since the two eras are fairly close in time, and some of the same characters exist in both, Vanderpool is able to maintain the same grip on the reader's attention (although I admit to having preferred the old story within the present story of 1939). Regardless, this is no small feat. She also does a superb job of grounding her story in vivid historical detail without making the experience feel at all teachery (which kids will love).

I do have a few bones to pick, however, not the least of which is the similarity of the two main narrative voices—those of Abilene and Sadie, the diviner—which are expressed with a little too much generic folksiness. Even Abilene wonders how she should be speaking (do people in Manifest say y'all?), and this tells me that Vanderpool wasn't quite sure herself. Since Sadie is Hungarian, it would have been nice to hear different diction or tone to that key element of the storytelling. It would also have smoothed the transition from present to past with a little less confusion as to who was telling each part of the story.

I'd also love to have seen Abilene be more active, make some mistakes that drive the story, and maybe change a little more by the end; in other words, to be more of a protagonist. Instead, the protagonist is someone in the past—the boy known only as Jinx. The problem comes from the fact that so much of the story is being retold. The nature of the town's secret is so unique and well worth telling, I wanted to see Abilene be more of a participant than an observer; or, if not that, then somehow significantly altered by the experience of uncovering the past. If it's there, I didn't pick up on it.

Although I wish there hadn't been so much left to the end for the truth to be revealed (made manifest), there's a lot of depth to this story's message. By the end, I felt satisfied by all the threads that came together and the lives that reached across two decades to create a place called home.  I can see why the Newbery committee selected it, and look forward to seeing more of Clare Vanderpool's work in the future.

Review: Saraswati's Way

SARASWATI'S WAY
by Monika Schroder
Frances Foster Books | Farrar Straus Giroux (November 2010)
Ages 10-14

Some books remind me of movies that come out right around the end of the year, just in time to be fresh in the minds of Academy Award voters. I'm talking about the quiet movies, the ones with substance and staying power. Like their visual counterparts, these books earn their way through the emotional landscape--no manufactured sentimentality or cheap scenes that break down at the end of the day.

SARASWATI'S WAY, by Monika Schroder, is one of those books. Set in current day India, it has all the components of a heartrending plot: a boy has a dream to go to a good school, but he needs a tutor in order to compete for a scholarship, his family is poor and his father dies, forcing the boy to grapple with modern day indentured slavery from which he escapes, only to end up in the slums of Dehli where his dream slips farther and farther away; and yet, Schroder keenly shies away from milking the reader's emotions with the editorial narration of a superior outsider.

This isn't a "multicultural" book that helps to educate readers about other ways of life. It's a human and humane novel that levels the playing field for all readers.

Schroder deftly crafts a story that tells itself honestly and without frills. This is simply how life is. People die. Others are cruel. Circumstances turn good children into drug addicts, dealers and thieves. However, no one and no thing can steal or stifle a dream when it's as powerful as that of twelve-year old Akash.

He has a genius for numbers and patterns, and a real chance for a better life if only he can find the money to pay for a tutor, but Akash's real gift is his personal integrity and internal compass. Through the lens of a somewhat distant third person narration, Schroder brings us inside the mind of a boy struggling to understand why the gods—Ganesha, remover of obstacles, and Saraswati, wisdom and knowledge—are ignoring his pleas.

Thankfully, Schroder allows Akash to make mistakes—one of which leads to a big loss—and she does not ignore the realities of lecherous men who prey on boys, corrupt authorities, and the prevalence of poverty and crime. I'm not sure how she does it, though, but none of the seaminess is gratuitous. Like the storytelling itself, it's there to serve and not detract.

My only wish is that the resolution had taken longer to reach and been a bit less tidy. Even so, I was left wanting to follow Akash to the next chapter in his life. This is one book I would love to see a sequel to.

For a little taste of SARASWATI'S WAY, check out the book trailer:




Source: copy provided by author

Top Ten Chapter Books of 2010

On average, I read about 2-3 books per week. Most are chapter books, a few young adult novels and a smattering of picture books and early readers. Since my own writing is geared toward the 8-12 year old crowd (my peers, basically), I sifted through all the chapter books I've read that were published this year and came up with a solid list of top ten. (A few are in that gray area—lurching toward YA.)



(Please click on the bottom right of the screen to get rid of the ads if they appear.)

There are other worthy books, of course, but these are the ones I would recommend to any reader or parent/grandparent without a second thought. I have no doubt that some of these will be on the Newbery shortlist.

For picture books, I have to put in a plug for Bonny Becker's A BEDTIME FOR BEAR. And it's not just because I know her. This follow-up book to the E.B. White Read Aloud award winner, A BEDTIME FOR BEAR, is the season's best gift for little ones. Another great picture book gift for the holiday season is Jesse Joshua Watson's HOPE FOR HAITI.

And let's not forget Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee's BINK & GOLLIE for the year's most smashing early reader chapter book.

Keep reading!

The books listed in the Top Ten Books of 2010 slideshow are (in alphabetical order): 
Alchemy and Meggy Swann, by Karen Cushman
The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester, by Barbara O'Connor
The Fences Between Us, by Kirby Larson
Forge, by Laurie Halse Anderson
Guinea Dog, by Patrick Jennings
The Kneebone Boy, by Ellen Potter
One Crazy Summer, by Rita Williams-Garcia
Seaglass Summer, Anjali Banerjee
Touch Blue, by Cynthia Lord
Turtle in Paradise, by Jennifer L. Holm

Popeye Reviews Splipping Spiddlers

SIPPING SPIDERS THROUGH A STRAW
Campfire Songs for Monsters

Written by Kelly DiPucchio and illustrated by Gris Grimly

Scholastic Press (May 2008)

Ages 9-12

Diz heer is Popeye an i jes kongradulated frum skool (yu kan se my pichur beelo). My peeples sez im soo smart i kud prolly lern to reed an soo i red me a buk i wont too tel yu abowt. Itz colled Splipping Spiddlers Threw An Strawl by Kelly DiPucchio and Gris Grimly (woo i thunk muzt ble a dawg becuz he maks growly fun pichurs).

Heer iz me reedeeng da buk.

Da buk iz abowt funni monster songs lik Home on the Strange an Creepy Creepy Little Jar. But my flaborite iz Clap Your Paws (if yur skary an yu no id).

Da pichurs by Gris Grimly iz extry spesel kreepy an funnly too. My peeples sez he iz uh geanus.

I laf so hard wen my peeples I reed da buk, I thunk everlybudy shud git it for Kristlemas an Honnikerh prezentz too gif everlybudy.

My peeples sez itz wun uv har flaveritz buks uv oll tim.

Heer iz me getteeng kongradulated.

Soo ok, go ged da buk.