Who knew that life on the Colorado prairie could be this fun? This exciting? This enchanting? Melissa Wiley, of course.  What’s more, she tells the story with flare.  In fact, The Prairie Thief is another one of those books that makes one want to stand up and wave their arms and point and holler and say, “See! LOOK! A great ‘tween’ story. Rich vocabulary that doesn’t talk down to the reader! And moral – a moral tale! And its not too sweet, either!”

I can’t say enough about Wiley’s refreshing use of vocabulary. Here, listen to Judge Callahan reflect on his use of the word “character” during the Brody trial (68): “The judge noticed several members of the jury furrowing their brows. One of the perils of a classical education, he often reflected, was a predilection for vocabulary of an obfuscating nature.” So we have advanced – and beautiful – vocabulary sneaked into short, manageable chapters. Add to that engaging characters, just the right amount of sugar, and you have a fantastic read.

What’s more, The Prairie Thief deals with conflict in a direct, age appropriate way. As the young Jessamine stumbles upon a chance to help her father, she is confronted with a moral decision on whether or not the means justify the ends. And, too, just how far do the rules bend before they are considered broken? Here we see a young girl’s thought process as she works her way to the truth.

And the truth, in this case, is that The Prairie Thief is a must read (I know, I’m gushing). Pick it up, it won’t disappoint.

I read the first two of Regina Doman’s Fairy Tale Series and loved them. And yet,  I hesitated to pick this book up. Not that I didn’t think it would be good. But because I really didn’t want to read about Blanche, Bear, and Rose again. I know, its borderline heresy to say so, but there you have it.  Of course, its always helpful to actually pick up the book and read the dust jacket. Or click over to Amazon and read the summary. Such a simple act would have saved me a bit of anguish as this book (the fourth in the series) breaks away from said characters. Note: I haven’t read book three (Waking Rose), yet, and evidently our hero, Paul Fester, is introduced to us there.

I loved it. There. That’s my review. If only all young adult authors would write such prose. If only other authors could read one of Doman’s novels and see that its possible to deal with current and relevant “teen” issues without being crass. Or rude. And even – *gasp* – manage to portray genuine truth and beauty without talking down to the reader, or sounding sickly sweet. This is a book any teen can read and relate to. Its a book that this Mom enjoyed. And why not? It stays true to the Grimm fairy tale. And what is a fairy tale, if not to give us a glimpse of truth, and beauty, and love?

I originally borrowed this book from the library because Heather Ross illustrated it. Being a dabbler in all things “home economics” myself, I am drawn to Heather Ross’ various fabric lines and was compelled to check out the book. The storyline is cute enough, Chloe likes to make things and is very good enough. But is she good enough at making things to make a birthday present for her best friend? This, of course, is the question at the heart of many (if not all) “crafters.” Can I possibly give something I made to someone else and call it a gift? For the record, Chloe has more fortitude than I. And that’s good.

That said, I found the writing to be overly simplistic, young, and boring.  I understand it’s a picture a book and, as such, is targeted to 4 year olds. But it has been my experience that 4 year olds have no problem making gifts of whatever in any particular moment. Rather, the older girls (and boys, too) – say 7,8,9 and above – who are suddenly inflicted with the “homemade is not good enough” syndrome. I was hoping for Chloe to be “cool” for them (do those girls even say “cool” anymore?)

A cute enough, book, though. And I can’t get enough of the illustrations (see? I told you I liked Heather Ross). Additionally, Chloe’s website – linked at the back of the book – has some fun crafty things to make and do.

Katniss Everdeen has survived the 75th annual Hunger Games. Unbeknownst to her, the other players (former Hunger Games victors) were doing everything in their power to make her the winner. This, to continue the revolution and make her The Mockingjay, the revolution’s symbol.  Initially, there is no Peeta (he has been captured by President Snow and is being tortured). This time, there is Gale. This time Katniss, ever the struggle between Good and Evil, must struggle on her own. And this time, this reader, was disappointed.

Underground, in District 13, we are struck almost immediately, with the sameness of the of District 12 under President Snow and are wondering what the Revolution is really about. President Coin, the leader of District 13 and the default leader of the Revolution, is strangely similar to President Snow. In some ways, District 13 is even more controlling than the capital.  As such, while Katniss fights against President Snow – that is, against tyranny and for freedom – we wonder if she isn’t being duped. As readers, we wonder if we aren’t being duped. Who, exactly, are we cheering for?

And this is where I struggle with this book. Up until now, good has been good and evil clearly defined. And now, while the Revolutionaries believe they are fighting for freedom and Good, what they are actually fighting for is the exchange of one evil system for another.

Sadly, Katniss is entwined in this questionable battle. She is often motivated by revenge and “the promise to kill Snow.” and at one time, in the heart of a battle for the Capital center, notes that “people shoot reflexively and I’m no exception…Killing whoever comes into our path.” (341) It is here that I am particularly shocked out of the narrative of the story and am confronted with Collin’s anti-war sentiment and, perhaps, her misunderstanding of war and the way it is fought. Does she believe soldiers to raid towns and kill indiscriminately? I’m not convinced she doesn’t. And I was yanked out of the story to question whether it is so, or not.

I am left, then, not only with an unconvincing climax, but a disappointing heroine. A heroine that gives into revenge and destruction. And in the end – in the future – Katniss has a hard time finding the Joy in counting the Good. Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome? Could be.

But maybe, just maybe, it is because in a post-apocalyptic society, still scrubbed of any definitive and knowable Goodness, Truth, or Beauty, there really isn’t any Joy.

I first found this book on the shelf at our local used bookstore. The cover looked interesting enough, the author seemed familiar enough, and I was in need of a read aloud that all three children could get behind.  As it turns out, the author was familiar enough – Robert Lawson (duh) author of the beloved Ben and Me and a host of other family favorites. Turns out the five year old was bored to tears with the story and often took off to solitary locations and play Playmobil, Lego’s, and whatnot. The 7 and 9 year old loved the book and inevitably begged me for another chapter. As for me? If I could have, I would have joined the five year old.

The story is a quiet one. The action revolves around the animal’s expectations of the New Folks moving to the farm.  While the characters are charming and – if animals could talk – exactly what you think they should be, they are dull in their pontifications on the relationships between animals and men.  Indeed, the entire story felt a little “preachy” with respect to the man vs. animal relationship.  For example, when spying through a window into the living room of the New Folk, Willie Fieldmouse falls into a rain barrel of freezing water and nearly drowns. But the kind folks, evidently endowed with superior hearing, rescue him and nurse him back to health. I don’t like reading little tales like this as I am most afraid of the effect they will have on my children. Am I going to have to explain the mousetraps located in our basement?

The New Folks, as it turns out, are kind. Indeed, they feed the animals at the feet of St. Francis. In return, the animals leave the New Folk’s fenced garden alone and raid only the gardens of the less kind folks in the area. Again, I am skeptical. It is my experience that, regardless of the vegetable scraps left out for the local rabbits, the minute they happen upon tender beet greens, fresh lettuce shoots or (most recently) pea shoots there is little in the way of picked vegetables that will persuade them to leave the garden alone.

Some of the animals are malicious in their initial distrust of the New Folk. Mole, misunderstanding them, digs up their lawn.  Uncle Analdis is sure the New Folk are going to use Georgie as a trap and manages to start a small revolution with the animals.  The kindness of the New Folk persuade them, though, and they are sheepish in their admission of guilt. Though they don’t experience any negative consequences as a result of their behavior.  Presumably, this is because humans always act in the manner initially supposed. How are the animals to understand the New Folk are, well, New Folk?

I realize my criticism is tedious to some and yet, reading stories like this have become tedious to me.  Robert Lawson may have written the book in 1944, but myriads have followed since and I am drowning in the “be kind to nature” genre.  It’s a short read, rich in vocabulary, and your kids will most likely enjoy the comedic caricatures of the various woodland animals.  Just don’t expect to build a garden around your fence this year.

When a chapter book about baseball makes its way to your library reserve shelf it’s pretty awesome. When the book has a cool cover, it’s even better. When your seven year old son is begging to read it before you’ve walked through the library door, well, its pretty near nirvana.

Such was the case with me. It took me a few pages to get comfortable with the writing of the book (thankfully it wasn’t the editing this time). It’s written in the first person singular and, really, who wants to be inside the head of a sixth grade boy? The stream of consciousness and continued use of the edifying phrases “like” and “seriously” were almost enough to convince me to put the book down.  Alas, my boy is dying for a good, fun, book to read and while Jack is somewhat annoying, he’s not a bad kid. Geesh, I have neighbors like that.

But Jack proves to be a liar, too. He and his friend lie to his friend’s mother. And when that results in the smashing of Waterford Crystal (and the spilling of Irish Whiskey) he lies about who did it. While the boys are yelled at (and his friend loses the privilege of his X-Box) no real consequence ensues for Jack. And when Jack decides he is too afraid to play baseball but too embarrassed to admit it, he lies about hurting his wrist to get out of playing the game. His parents are aware of the truth, his coach suspects the truth, but no adult addresses the fear, or helps him to deal with it in a more suitable manner. Rather, Jack wrestles with his fear through the use of video games (killing soldiers); “pigging out” at McDonald’s, and isolating himself from his friends.

Now, I certainly understand the fact that men and women approach and resolve issues differently (my daughter and I would have talked endlessly about it), but what good is the “coming of age” part of the book if the protagonist doesn’t mature in the process?  Jack needs a father who will show him there are better ways to deal with being hit by a baseball than pretending to hurt your wrist. Fine. Sit out a game – but be a man about it and sit out the game because you go plunked with a baseball, not because you lied about your wrist. I’m not convinced that Jack won’t lie about the next uncomfortable situation he finds himself in. Or that his parents would object to the falsehood.

And you know what else I’m not convinced about? That Katie is on his team. A girl shortstop on a boys Little League Team?

**For the sake of this review, I’m going to completely ignore the bathroom humor.  In the wars that rage between the pages of books, when it comes to bathroom humor battles I find myself firmly planted in the “grudgingly-tolerate-it-in-small-doses” camp.  The book makes use of the deep affinity young boys have for such humor but, in my opinion, didn’t make it a point of going overboard (see my notes below).

This story is part biography and part fiction. It’s an okay story, but I found the colloquial dialect of South Carolina to be stilted and distracting.  The dialect, coupled with a few odd stories (did Jackson really sleep with his bat?), cause the reader to walk away with the impression that Shoeless Joe was somewhat of an idiot.  He was, in real life, uneducated and illiterate – but that doesn’t make him an idiot.  The “Afterword” of the book provides an accurate biography of Shoeless Joe, and the final page is dedicated to his “statistics.”

I loved this book. My children loved this book. It’s the story of hard work and achieving your goals. It’s the story of familial love. It’s the story of neighborhood baseball played in the streetlights and under the streetlamps.

As you would expect with Yolen, the writing is tight but expressive. And if it weren’t fore her awkward use of “How about that!” after a few too many of the Wagner anecdotes, I’d have no complaints.

The illustrations in the book are fantastic as well. Jim Burke includes a note in the back of the book about his work in this book. He’s a baseball fan. The pictures in this book prove it.