A “yeah, sure” if there ever was one.
Alley and Rex make some more mischief.
Effervescent sixth grader Alley and bunny-suited fourth grade genius Rex return for more laughs in this sequel to last year’s promising Alley & Rex (2021). This time the pals team up to help each other survive gym class and save breakfast. Rex is loath to shed his bunny suit, but the PE teacher is insistent that he change into standard gym attire. Meanwhile, Alley is desperate to save the free breakfast cart that’s been closed down due to budget cuts. Hilarity, tomfoolery, and elaborate heists ensue as the inseparable pals work toward making smart choices and finding quality solutions to their problems. Fans of the series opener will find plenty to enjoy here. Those who bristled at Alley’s boisterous energy levels in the earlier installment will once again be longing for a tranquilizer dart. The narrative is better paced, and the characterization remains decent. While the story never rises to anything special, there’s solid workmanship on display; this is a book that will fill out a reader’s summer reading log or help pass a dull afternoon. The jokes are fun, the story has just the right dash of mayhem, and the titular pals are engaging enough to keep readers willing to come back for more. Based on cover art, Alley presents as White and Rex is brown-skinned; Alley is cued as Jewish.
A “yeah, sure” if there ever was one. (Fiction. 9-12)Pub Date: Sept. 27, 2022
ISBN: 978-1-5344-9547-0
Page Count: 160
Publisher: Atheneum
Review Posted Online: June 7, 2022
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2022
Medically, both squicky and hopeful; emotionally, unbelievably squeaky-clean.
A 12-year-old copes with a brain tumor.
Maddie likes potatoes and fake mustaches. Kids at school are nice (except one whom readers will see instantly is a bully); soon they’ll get to perform Shakespeare scenes in a unit they’ve all been looking forward to. But recent dysfunctions in Maddie’s arm and leg mean, stunningly, that she has a brain tumor. She has two surgeries, the first successful, the second taking place after the book’s end, leaving readers hanging. The tumor’s not malignant, but it—or the surgeries—could cause sight loss, personality change, or death. The descriptions of surgery aren’t for the faint of heart. The authors—parents of a real-life Maddie who really had a brain tumor—imbue fictional Maddie’s first-person narration with quirky turns of phrase (“For the love of potatoes!”) and whimsy (she imagines her medical battles as epic fantasy fights and pretends MRI stands for Mustard Rat from Indiana or Mustaches Rock Importantly), but they also portray her as a model sick kid. She’s frightened but never acts out, snaps, or resists. Her most frequent commentary about the tumor, having her skull opened, and the possibility of death is “Boo” or “Super boo.” She even shoulders the bully’s redemption. Maddie and most characters are white; one cringe-inducing hallucinatory surgery dream involves “chanting island natives” and a “witch doctor lady.”
Medically, both squicky and hopeful; emotionally, unbelievably squeaky-clean. (authors’ note, discussion questions) (Fiction. 9-11)Pub Date: Oct. 3, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-62972-330-3
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Shadow Mountain
Review Posted Online: Aug. 1, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2017
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Opens as standard living-with-disability tale, grows into a heartwarming story about a community discovering activism.
When Ava’s only friend moves away, anxiety makes finding a new social circle daunting.
Ava’s best friend, Zelia, has always been her prop and support. It’s tough being an 11-year-old with a pacemaker; the noncompaction cardiomyopathy she was born with (Ava had heart surgery when she was only 4) combines with intense anxiety to leave Ava self-loathing and socially isolated. Her dad teaches cotillion classes for sixth graders, and Ava, like her older brothers before her, is required to attend, to dance, and to make excruciating small talk. A girl in class invites her to an improv group, and Ava reluctantly agrees. To her shock, improv, which celebrates failure, is amazing for her anxiety. But the improv theater and the waterfront where it’s located are under threat from pricey real estate developers. Saving the area from gentrification will require a committed activist, though, and Ava can barely speak in public. Cotillion and improv give Ava tool sets to use to live with anxiety, and the cause gives her a motivation. The conclusion is optimistically uncomplicated, but in a story that successfully explores the complexities of chronic illness mixed with mental illness, the comfort is welcome. Ava is biracial, Japanese American and white, and lives in a diverse community; the vice principal and Ava’s therapist are black, and the mean real estate developer is almost stereotypically white.
Opens as standard living-with-disability tale, grows into a heartwarming story about a community discovering activism. (author’s note, improv games) (Fiction. 9-11)Pub Date: June 9, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-06-280349-8
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: March 28, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 15, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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