by Gennifer Choldenko
narrated by Kirby Heyborne
New York: Listening Library, 2009.
Moose Flanagan's father got a job at Alcatraz prison, so he and his parents and his sister, Natalie, have moved to the island from their home in San Francisco. With such a small group of people, including a small number of kids, living on the island Moose isn't sure about anything - making friends, playing ball. He and the warden's daughter, Piper, have to take the ferry in to school, and Piper has a grand plan involving the notorious gangster, Al Capone, who was in the prison in 1935.
I'm not sure why exactly - maybe it was the title, or the cover, or how I'd heard the book described - but I had the idea that this would be a much lighter, humorous book. Instead, what I found was a sometimes funny historical fiction about a boy and his family. Moose is the narrator, and how I saw the other characters, especially Piper and Natalie, was really colored by his interpretation. At the beginning, I thought Piper was a manipulative little chit, but either she grew as a character or on me, because I grew to like her despite her shenanigans. The historical research is clear in the strength of the story and setting, and the author's note bears this out - there is a note on Alcatraz that includes quotes from people who lived on the island (generally people who worked for the prison and their families), and a note on Natalie. Natalie's condition is never named in the story, though I read her as autistic, and the author's note bears that out. I found that her family's dynamics and challenges rang true, and I liked how clear it was that they all love her in their own way, even if they become frustrated at times.
Showing posts with label Great Depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Great Depression. Show all posts
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
To Kill a Mockingbird
by Harper Lee
New York : Warner Books, [1982], c1960.
If you haven't read the book (or seen the movie) by now, there's not much else I can say to convince you. Do it. Then come back, and we'll talk.
It's been years since the last time I read To Kill a Mockingbird, and I decided that, between my hometown reading it as a group read and Banned Books Week, it was time for a reread. (Well, at least I started it during Banned Books Week). This is the third or fourth time I've read this book. The first was when I was in middle school. I read it for school, and I remember my surprise as I followed Scout through every plot revelation. The next was listening to the audiobook while on vacation, enjoying a new experience of a well-loved story. This time, knowing the plot practically by heart, I could notice details and social commentary that I had entirely missed before.
***spoilers to follow***
I was much more attuned to the comments by adults that by and large went over Scout's head. This is partly because I know the story so well, but also because I know much more about American history and how African Americans were treated in this country (north and south) during this time period that I did the last time I read the story. I noticed the hypocrisy of adults who had a patronizing attitude towards African "savages" and wanted a better life for them, yet thought their help was getting uppity as a result of trial. And here's what really floored me: Atticus isn't entirely free from the societal dictates of his time. During the trial in cross-examination, he calls members of a white family Mr. Ewell and Miss Mayella. He calls his defendant, a black man, by his first name, and in conversation refers to Tom Robinson as "boy." It bothered me, even knowing that of course these characters were products of their time, and people really did talk and think that way. I could see how some teachers might be leery of using this book in classroom, though I think that it brings up a lot of food for thought and discussion on extremely important issues that are part of our history and should not be ignored.
On a less drastic note, I had also entirely missed that the meat of the story is set in 1935; I had always pictured the 1960s in my head (no wonder Aunt Alexandra couldn't stand Scout in overalls...it explains so much!). I love that every time I've read the book, I've discovered something new. While not a perfect book, it is one of my sentimental favorites, and I certainly plan on rereading it again.
New York : Warner Books, [1982], c1960.
If you haven't read the book (or seen the movie) by now, there's not much else I can say to convince you. Do it. Then come back, and we'll talk.
It's been years since the last time I read To Kill a Mockingbird, and I decided that, between my hometown reading it as a group read and Banned Books Week, it was time for a reread. (Well, at least I started it during Banned Books Week). This is the third or fourth time I've read this book. The first was when I was in middle school. I read it for school, and I remember my surprise as I followed Scout through every plot revelation. The next was listening to the audiobook while on vacation, enjoying a new experience of a well-loved story. This time, knowing the plot practically by heart, I could notice details and social commentary that I had entirely missed before.
***spoilers to follow***
I was much more attuned to the comments by adults that by and large went over Scout's head. This is partly because I know the story so well, but also because I know much more about American history and how African Americans were treated in this country (north and south) during this time period that I did the last time I read the story. I noticed the hypocrisy of adults who had a patronizing attitude towards African "savages" and wanted a better life for them, yet thought their help was getting uppity as a result of trial. And here's what really floored me: Atticus isn't entirely free from the societal dictates of his time. During the trial in cross-examination, he calls members of a white family Mr. Ewell and Miss Mayella. He calls his defendant, a black man, by his first name, and in conversation refers to Tom Robinson as "boy." It bothered me, even knowing that of course these characters were products of their time, and people really did talk and think that way. I could see how some teachers might be leery of using this book in classroom, though I think that it brings up a lot of food for thought and discussion on extremely important issues that are part of our history and should not be ignored.
On a less drastic note, I had also entirely missed that the meat of the story is set in 1935; I had always pictured the 1960s in my head (no wonder Aunt Alexandra couldn't stand Scout in overalls...it explains so much!). I love that every time I've read the book, I've discovered something new. While not a perfect book, it is one of my sentimental favorites, and I certainly plan on rereading it again.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Moon Over Manifest
by Claire Vanderpool
New York : Delacorte Press, 2010.
Abilene Tucker rode the rails with her father, Gideon, until the day she got hurt and he sent her to Manifest. She knows Manifest because of her father's stories; she knows from his stories that this small town holds a significant place in her father's heart. During the summer of 1936 while she stays with Shady, the fourteen-year interim pastor of the Baptist church, Abilene hopes she can learn more about Gideon Tucker.
Where do I start with my thoughts on this book? I suppose to start at the beginning, I should say that before it won the Newbery Medal, I hadn't even known the book existed. Ever since 2007, I've tried to read the current Newbery Medal winner and at least one honor book, so as soon as the award was announced, I requested it from the library. When I first started reading it, not all that sure what sort of story I was in for, I first noticed the wonderful descriptions. Here's how Abilene describes her father and his stories about Manifest: "His words drew pictures of brightly painted storefronts and bustling townsfolk. Hearing Gideon tell about it was like sucking on butterscotch. Smooth and sweet. And when he'd go back to not saying much, I'd try recalling what it tasted like. Maybe that was how I found comfort just then, even with him being so far away. By remembering the flavor of his words. But mostly, I could taste the sadness in his voice when he told me I couldn't stay with him for the summer while he worked a railroad job back in Iowa. Something had changed in him" (2). Then before I knew it I was hooked not only by Abilene's story but the story from 1917 about Jinx and Ned. I grew truly attached to these characters and the many who populate Manifest in both time periods. This was a truly delightful book that I would recommend to children and adults who enjoy good but not overly long description and memorable characters.
New York : Delacorte Press, 2010.
Abilene Tucker rode the rails with her father, Gideon, until the day she got hurt and he sent her to Manifest. She knows Manifest because of her father's stories; she knows from his stories that this small town holds a significant place in her father's heart. During the summer of 1936 while she stays with Shady, the fourteen-year interim pastor of the Baptist church, Abilene hopes she can learn more about Gideon Tucker.
Where do I start with my thoughts on this book? I suppose to start at the beginning, I should say that before it won the Newbery Medal, I hadn't even known the book existed. Ever since 2007, I've tried to read the current Newbery Medal winner and at least one honor book, so as soon as the award was announced, I requested it from the library. When I first started reading it, not all that sure what sort of story I was in for, I first noticed the wonderful descriptions. Here's how Abilene describes her father and his stories about Manifest: "His words drew pictures of brightly painted storefronts and bustling townsfolk. Hearing Gideon tell about it was like sucking on butterscotch. Smooth and sweet. And when he'd go back to not saying much, I'd try recalling what it tasted like. Maybe that was how I found comfort just then, even with him being so far away. By remembering the flavor of his words. But mostly, I could taste the sadness in his voice when he told me I couldn't stay with him for the summer while he worked a railroad job back in Iowa. Something had changed in him" (2). Then before I knew it I was hooked not only by Abilene's story but the story from 1917 about Jinx and Ned. I grew truly attached to these characters and the many who populate Manifest in both time periods. This was a truly delightful book that I would recommend to children and adults who enjoy good but not overly long description and memorable characters.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)