Chains and Twisted

These are both by Laurie Halse Anderson, and the reason I am putting them both in one entry is because I'm WAY, WAY behind on logging these nifty books I'm reading. I'm about ten books behind. So I'm putting these together because they were both really fast reads and both by the same author and both really good, but I don't really have much to say about them. I like this author a lot because she writes lots of different styles and about lots of different subjects. (There are some very descriptive words in those last few sentences. I'm very proud of them.) By that I mean she usually writes about teenagers (these are considered "young adult" books, which are generally my favorite kind of fiction) but she sets her characters in modern high schools, historically tumultuous times, outer space, you get it. So she's a really versatile writer and I generally enjoy her stories. But that's pretty much what they are: just stories, and since I'm not 13 I'm not amazingly overwhelmed by the profundity. I just like reading them.

It reminds me of Judy Blume books when I was a kid. Judy Blume everybody read. Her stories were all about normal every day kids and all normal every day kids enjoyed reading them. Then she would write the story that includes a makeout scene or a kids "discovering" their bodies, etc etc, and the book became THE hot item as soon as it was found out. It was passed under desks from giggly girl to giggly girl. Our parents were horrified and forbid us to read all Judy Blume books and tried to get her banned from the library. But luckily, Superfudge was an innocent story about a four-year-old so only individual books like Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret got kicked off the shelves.

That didn't stop us from finding copies anyway so we learned how we must, we must, we must increase our bust. Obviously I was too goody-two-shoes to use that charm for myself. Sigh.

Anyway, long live young adult authors. Long may those over-intelligent eight-year-olds learn more about adolescence than they were meant to by reading them. Long may they suffer the consequences... long may I continue to block my scarring memories from second grade.

Travels with Charley

I don't read much Steinbeck, but when this book turned up in the pile of old-books-that-mom-doesn't-want-anymore, I couldn't resist it. It's John Steinbeck's true account of the time that he packed himself and his dog into a custom-built pickup camper and took about three months driving all over the US. As this is an activity I enjoy participating in quite a bit myself (minus the custom built comfort, substitute a teeny tiny car) I had to find out what the literary genius thought of the road. Would he have inspiring insights for my next trip? Did he think that the big ol' US of A is as great as I do? Would his fabulous journey render my silly little jaunts completely inconsequential?

Yep, yep, and nope. This book was devoid of the usual "literary genius" that laces Steinbeck's work. It may have been a bestseller, but no English teachers are assigning it for mandatory reading. It lacks that artistry and poetic prose that marks Steinbeck's greater known novels. Probably why I liked it so much.

As fun as it was for me to read Steinbeck's thoughts on many, many places I either knew well or have visited or have always wanted to visit, I admit to reading the book because I was intrigued by a person who hopped in the car with just a dog for company. Most people know I'm a little quirky about my dog, too, so this was fun for me to find a kindred spirit. But buried in those pages I found what I was looking for: just a little bit of validation.

Page 138: "Charley is no more like a dog than he is like a cat. His perceptions are sharp and delicate and he is a mind-reader. I don't know that he can read the thoughts of other dogs,but he can read mine. Before a plan is half-formed in my mind, Charley knows about it, and he also knows whether he is to be included in it. There's no question about this. I know too well his look of dispair and disapproval when I have just thought that he must be left at home."

Ah HA!! Validation!!! I am not imagining it! There are certain dogs who walk this earth who just have it. They got it: these dogs can read human minds and understand human words and communicate human emotions through eerily human expressions. And anyone who knows my dog Caleb knows... he's one of THEM. These strange breed of dogs that are either humans reincarnate or aliens deposited on earth contriving to one day take over our pathetic little species. Caleb can take one look at me in the morning (before I have raised my head from my pillow) and predict exactly what's going to happen to him for the next 16 hours. He can tell if his favorite massage client is coming over by the type of music I turn on. He knows whose house I've snuck off to visit without him and punishes me with his childish pouts when I come back home. This dog can tell exactly what I'm thinking and communicates his thoughts just as clearly as he reads mine.

It can be sort of disconcerting, actually... you get used to the idea of a dog as just this little furry accessory for a family. But just when you think he's some innocent dumb animal, you catch a glare from this creature in the corner and you realize you're looking at... something... that is more than just a cute furry face. He's taking you apart with his eyes. (And let me tell you, there are some moments where you really wish you had a little privacy instead of some strange dog with a voyeuristic attitude and narcissism complex boring into your soul.)

And it's not just me. Everyone who meets this dog says the same thing- he's one of a kind: He's definitely got more person-ality than dog-ness to him. We think it might be the eyebrows... Ah, Caleb. To know him is to love him.

Good Harbor

Well, truth be told, I have lots to say about this book. But I don't really want to share it with the entire world, so if you are really DYING to find out about this book, well, leave a comment with the magic word and I'll let you know if you get to hear my thoughts. :)

Otherwise... I read the book. Pretty much sort of stunk. That's it.

The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle

This book, by Hugh Lofting, is part of the WILDLY POPULAR Dr. Dolittle series that has been loved by children of all generations. Or so they say, anyway. So anyway, I loved the original Dr. Dolittle book, which is what made me excited to pick this one up because of my Newbery Award winners obsession.

(Oh, gross... I just have to put in that as I'm writing this I'm watching an episode of America's Got Talent online, and... oh, this is disgusting. There are way too many freaks in America. And of course they all come out of the Pacific Northwest... who in their right minds thinks it's okay to, like, have sex in a giant hoop suspended from the ceiling on national TV? I am ready for Andy to come back into town so I can watch So You Think You Can Dance again. *Shudder*)

Anyway, this book was fun. Okay, I mean. I couldn't figure out why I didn't love it as much as I liked the original Dr. Dolittle book. (Freaks... the hoop screwers went on to Vegas... I think I will die of horror shortly.) Then I got to the end and read the afterword... turns out the family/publishers of Hugh Lofting were re-evaluating these manuscripts for reprinting for some major anniversary or something. I didn't pay too much attention. I never pay attention after I've been annoyed a bit. And I was annoyed. Bottom line is, they didn't want to "offend possible readers" in this new "pc society" so they toned down a lot of that language from the last century that might be a misunderstood by today's readers. So, here's what I think of that.

IDIOTS!! Honestly, I know this is a kids' book, so you want to be careful what you put in front of them. But we're not talking about dropping f-bombs or anything. Words like that were horrible then as they are now, and Hugh Lofting certainly isn't going to throw language like that out in front of kids. But there are certain words that the meaning of which have changed a bit over time, and while they were benign then they might be questionable now. For example: Negro. Currently questionable. At the time of writing, the proper term for a human of African descent. And boob. As in, "Silence, you boob!" Currently a word that makes kindergartners giggle. At the time of writing, a benign synonym for idiot, dumbard, fool, stupid, stupid person.

So these are not horrific, horrifying words. And my thought is, if a child is mature enough to read a 300+ page book, a child is mature enough to be discussing language with their parents. As in, "Mommy, what does Negro mean?"... thus opening a door for Mommy to do some serious discussing with kidlet about racism, bigotry, stereotypes, history, war, civil rights, just to name a few. I mean, come on, people, what is literature for if not to educate minds and create discussions about issues? Certainly books are for entertainment- I'm the first one to say I don't want to learn a lesson but to be entertained by a book. (And nothing is more entertaining than the mental picture of an Indian chief screaming to his subjects, "Silence, boobs!") But literature that sticks should stick for a reason. It should be something that you can find deeper meaning in- even literature for kids. Now the only thing for kids to ask their parents after reading this is, "Mommy, what's a pushmi-pullyu?"- thereby introducing a FABULOUSLY intellectual discussion about giant submarine sized glass snails, parrots that are fluent in 117 languages (as well as being physics geniuses), and a floating island that rests on the back of giant whales. Yeah. THERE'S something that will enrich the darn kid for the rest of their lives.

So my gripe is, why should this book be called a Newbery Award winner if the book I'm reading isn't even the original book? Calling this book an award winner is like putting star shaped pasties over the nipples on a Titian and still calling it a masterpiece. Get over yourselves, publishers... keep Dr. Dolittle fun.