Fifth-grade narrator Ritchie Willis tells about the time in 1939 when his mother was hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, his little sister, Rosie, was sick at home with fever, and he himself was terrorized by the school bully and ignored by his cold father. Much of the responsibility for the house and Rosie fell on Ritchie's small shoulders: Every day after school he had to come straight home to look after Rosie and warm supper for his father. One day, however, he sees his reclusive cellist neighbor's dog dead on the road. He goes to tell Thad Grailowsky about his dog, and the two become friends. Ritchie confides in Mr. Grailowsky, talking to him about his mother's absence and Rosie's illness. He also tells him about Rosie's fantasy of a troll living under Mr. Grailowsky's bridge. Suddenly, letters start coming to the house for Rosie from the troll, named pod (spelled the same right side up and upside down). These letters keep Rosie's spirits up, and even Ritchie begins believing in pod's existence. Taking courage from the little troll, Ritchie faces his fears and triumphs over them. His mother comes home and Rosie gets well, but Mr. Grailowsky leaves to join the Canadian army to fight in WW II. Pod's letters become postcards from abroad and then cease entirely—and Thad Grailowsky is reported missing in action. After the war, Rosie receives a final postcard from pod, ``We Won.'' Ritchie then realizes that Mr. Grailowsky will come home one day. McKenzie's (A Bowl of Mischief, 1992, etc.) story is heartwarming, but the reader won't understand why it takes Ritchie so long to figure out the troll's achingly obvious identity. (Fiction. 9-12)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1994
ISBN: 0-8050-2614-2
Page Count: 140
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 1994
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Simple, bella, un regalo permenente: simple and beautiful, a gift that will stay.
Renowned Latin American writer Alvarez has created another story about cultural identity, but this time the primary character is 11-year-old Miguel Guzmán.
When Tía Lola arrives to help the family, Miguel and his hermana, Juanita, have just moved from New York City to Vermont with their recently divorced mother. The last thing Miguel wants, as he's trying to fit into a predominantly white community, is a flamboyant aunt who doesn't speak a word of English. Tía Lola, however, knows a language that defies words; she quickly charms and befriends all the neighbors. She can also cook exotic food, dance (anywhere, anytime), plan fun parties, and tell enchanting stories. Eventually, Tía Lola and the children swap English and Spanish ejercicios, but the true lesson is "mutual understanding." Peppered with Spanish words and phrases, Alvarez makes the reader as much a part of the "language" lessons as the characters. This story seamlessly weaves two culturaswhile letting each remain intact, just as Miguel is learning to do with his own life. Like all good stories, this one incorporates a lesson just subtle enough that readers will forget they're being taught, but in the end will understand themselves, and others, a little better, regardless of la lengua nativa—the mother tongue.
Simple, bella, un regalo permenente: simple and beautiful, a gift that will stay. (Fiction. 9-11)Pub Date: March 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-375-80215-0
Page Count: 160
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2001
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Not for the faint-hearted—who are mostly adults anyway—but for stouthearted kids who love a brush with the sinister:...
A magnificently creepy fantasy pits a bright, bored little girl against a soul-eating horror that inhabits the reality right next door.
Coraline’s parents are loving, but really too busy to play with her, so she amuses herself by exploring her family’s new flat. A drawing-room door that opens onto a brick wall becomes a natural magnet for the curious little girl, and she is only half-surprised when, one day, the door opens onto a hallway and Coraline finds herself in a skewed mirror of her own flat, complete with skewed, button-eyed versions of her own parents. This is Gaiman’s (American Gods, 2001, etc.) first novel for children, and the author of the Sandman graphic novels here shows a sure sense of a child’s fears—and the child’s ability to overcome those fears. “I will be brave,” thinks Coraline. “No, I am brave.” When Coraline realizes that her other mother has not only stolen her real parents but has also stolen the souls of other children before her, she resolves to free her parents and to find the lost souls by matching her wits against the not-mother. The narrative hews closely to a child’s-eye perspective: Coraline never really tries to understand what has happened or to fathom the nature of the other mother; she simply focuses on getting her parents back and thwarting the other mother for good. Her ability to accept and cope with the surreality of the other flat springs from the child’s ability to accept, without question, the eccentricity and arbitrariness of her own—and every child’s own—reality. As Coraline’s quest picks up its pace, the parallel world she finds herself trapped in grows ever more monstrous, generating some deliciously eerie descriptive writing.
Not for the faint-hearted—who are mostly adults anyway—but for stouthearted kids who love a brush with the sinister: Coraline is spot on. (Fiction. 9-12)Pub Date: July 1, 2002
ISBN: 0-380-97778-8
Page Count: 176
Publisher: HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2002
SEEN & HEARD
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