by Rachel Toalson | Books
I’ve become a big fan of Marcus Sedgwick and his creative young adult novels. Midwinterblood is the second one of his books I’ve read, and it was just as good as the first one (The Ghosts of Heaven).
What I love about Sedgwick is that he’s very experimental with his narrative. This one was incredibly creative and beautifully written—tragic and yet hope-filled. I don’t even know how to categorize it: a young adult sci-fi paranormal about the enduring nature of love. It had all those elements.
Here are 3 things I enjoyed most about it:
- The seven stories. They were all tied together by characters with the same or similar names, and this drove the narrative—a mystery that needed solving. Where will we see them next? How will they know about each other?
- The artistic catchphrases. These weren’t cliche catchphrases; they were specific to the characters. One particular character used vocal tags like “well” and “So it is,” so even though the characters had different names in the different narratives, this helped readers identity who was who. It was a great technique for threading the stories together. There were also narrative elements like the dragon flower and hares, which connected the different stories to each other.
- The mystery and surprise. It was basically the same two characters living seven different lives, and part of the pleasure of reading this book was trying to predict whether or not they would find one another again.
Probably the best part of the book were the first lines:
“The sun does not go down.
This is the first thing that Eric Seven notices about Blessed Island. There will be many other strange things that he will notice, before the forgetting takes hold of him, but that will come later.”
Midwinterblood is a fantastic novel full of intrigue, mystery, and philosophical wonderings.
The above is an affiliate link. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
by Rachel Toalson | Books
I am a super-fan of Jason Reynolds and read pretty much every book he comes out with—whether it’s middle grade or young adult. So it was with great anticipation that I picked up his newest book, Patina, the second in a semi-series about kids who run on a special community track team.
This book was just like any of Reynolds’s other books: sweet, engaging, thought-provoking, and necessary.
Patina (Patty) is a girl who feels she has to take on the responsibility of caring for her family, since her mother lost her legs to diabetes (she doesn’t like that diabetes has the word “die” in it, either), and she runs to get away from all those responsibilities.
Here are three things I enjoyed most about this book:
The character. Patty was an engaging character who reminded me of myself when I was 11, because she took on a lot of responsibility and stepped into the holes with her little sister. She was also a fighter and I loved that about her; she had opinions and grew into herself and those opinions as the book progressed.
2. The track element. I loved reading about track and Patty’s experience on a relay team and especially loved that she had to simultaneously learn how to be part of a team on the track and in her home. She had to learn how to trust that other people would take care of things, and she had to rely on them, too, to do what she needed to do.
3. The frame. Every chapter was framed by a to-do list; this depeened Patty’s personality and also was further evidence of how she changed as she began to grow into herself.
One of my favorite to-do lists was the very first one, which showcases Patty’s view of life at the beginning of the book:
“To do: Everything (forgetting about the race and braiding my sister’s hair.)”
This was followed by the first line, which further showcased Patty’s personality:
“Ain’t no such thing as a false start. Because false means fake, and ain’t no fake starts in track. Either you start or you don’t. Either you run or you don’t. No in-between. Now, there can be a wrong start. That makes more sense to me. Means you just start at the wrong time. Just jump early and break out running with no one there running with you. No competition except for your own brain that swears there’s other people on your heels. But ain’t nobody there. Not for real. Ain’t no chaser. That’s what they really mean when they say false start. A real start at the wrong time.”
Patina was another solid book from Reynolds. I can’t wait for my boys to read it.
*The above is an affiliate link. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
by Rachel Toalson | Books
My family and I recently finished Roald Dahl’s Matilda, a book that is now one of my favorite read-aloud. I had never read the story before, but I decided it would be a good one to experience as a family. And I was right.
Matilda is the story of a very smart little girl who lives with neglectful parents. She learns to take care of herself and falls quickly in love with reading books. When she goes to school, she’s very advanced for her years because of all her reading (a great message to kids, of course). Then she learns that she can make things happen with her mind.
My boys laughed out loud, guessed what was going to happen, and cheered Matilda on during her battles against her parents and the mean school principal, Miss Trunchbull. And when we were finished laughing, gusting, and cheering, we watched the movie, which all my boys agreed was not as good as the book.
Here are three things I enjoyed most about Matilda:
- The humor. My boys couldn’t stop laughing during my read-aloud sessions, because Matilda would do things that got the better of everyone who was mean to her.
- The personality. Dahl wrote Matilda with such personality, a narrator that was sometimes invisible and sometimes very present. During the times the narrator was very present, it was almost as though the narrator and the reader were in a conspiracy together.
- The empowerment. Many times Dahl referred to Matilda as very small, but throughout the story she did great, amazing things, which underlined what I believe was Dahl’s main them: even small children can make a large mark in the world.
What I love most about Dahl is that all the love he has for children went into his books. You have only to read him to know how much he enjoyed crafting the kind of stories children would love.
Take this opening from Matilda:
“It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.
“Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.
“Well, there is nothing very wrong with all this. It’s the way of the world. It is only when the parents begin telling us about the brilliance of their own revolting offspring, that we start shouting, “Bring us a basin! We’re going to be sick!”
“School teachers suffer a good deal from having to listen to this sort of twaddle from proud parents, but they usually get their own back when the time comes to write the end-of-term reports. If I were a teacher I would cook up some real scorchers for the children of doting parents. “Your son Maximilian,” I would write, “is a total wash-out. I hope you have a family business you can push him into when he leaves school because he sure as heck won’t get a job anywhere else.” Or if I were feeling lyrical that day, I might write, “It is a curious truth that grasshoppers have their hearing-organs in the sides of the abdomen. Your daughter Vanessa, judging by what she’s learnt this term, has no hearing-organs at all.”
He goes on to say:
“It is bad enough when parents treat ordinary children as though they were scabs and bunions, but it becomes somehow a lot worse when the child in question is extra-ordinary, and by that I mean sensitive and brilliant. Matilda was both of these things, but above all she was so quick to learn that her ability should have been obvious even to the most half-witted of parents. But Mr. And Mrs. Wormwood were both so gormless and so wrapped up in their own silly little lives that they failed to notice anything unusual about their daughter. To tell the truth, I doubt they would have noticed had she crawled into the house with a broken leg.”
And so the story begins.
It’s clear to see why Matilda continues to be a favorite with children today.
*The above is an affiliate link. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
by Rachel Toalson | Books
I’m raising six sons who will one day become white men. What with the climate of our country and the ripples of racism that have begun to creep from half-concealed corners, I have compiled a list of required reading for my sons that will teach them about both black history and growing up black in America.
Picture Books
Freedom Over Me: Eleven Slaves, Their Lives and Dreams Brought to Life, by Ashley Bryan
A poignant look at the lives of slaves, compiled from original slave auction and plantation estate documents. Shows clearly the objectification of slave lives and a clear picture of how America dehumanized the black race. And yet black men and women held tightly to their dreams. A book full of information, sorrow, and hope.
Freedom in Congo Square, by Carole Boston Weatherford; illustrated by R. Gregory Christie
This picture book highlights an important part of African American history: the capacity to hope and dream and find joy in a difficult place. It’s a sobering look at what slaves did Monday through Saturday, and then a celebratory look of the freedom they had for a day—Sunday, a day when the slaves of Louisiana would gather in Congo Square and reconnect to their heritage of song and dance. Told beautifully through verse and captivating pictures, this picture book is an important addition to any collection.
Moses: When Harriet Tubman Led Her People to Freedom, by Carole Boston Weatherford; illustrated by Kadir Nelson
This picture book showcases Harriet Tubman’s courage, strength, and utter devotion to helping the cause of her enslaved people. She was called the modern day Moses, and the book follows her mark on black Americans and their future.
Middle Grade
Unbound, by Ann E. Burg
Grace is a slave called to work in the Big House. While she’s compliant on the outside, inside she is asking many questions: how can white people own other people? Why are her people sold on an auction block? Who gave white people the right to separate families from each other? When her master talks about selling her mama, she decides it’s time to take the risk and make a run for it. Burg shines a light on a time period in American history during which runaways sought a place to call home in the Great Dismal Swamp.
Ghost, by Jason Reynolds
Ghost, Castle Cranshaw, is chosen for a middle school track team, and while he tries to learn the ins and outs of running for a team, he deals with his own emotional reasons for running—which include a father, a gun, and a terrifying fear of dying. Reynolds provides a significant look into the lives of children growing up in dangerous situations.
Patina, by Jason Reynolds
Patty (Patina) joins Ghost (in the above story) on the elite middle school track team. She runs for her mother, who lost her legs, and also runs to outrun her fears: that she will be like her mother. Her challenges culminate into an emotional climax that proves the power of love and friendship.
Young Adult
The Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas
Starr Carter witnesses her childhood best friend, Khalil, killed by a police officer. Khalil was unarmed, and now Starr must decide whether to speak or remain silent—and the consequences that come with each decision.
Dear Martin, by Nic Stone
Justyce McAllister writes a series of journal letters to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., after several incidences in which police kill unarmed black men. Jus tries to figure out if King’s teachings are relevant in the world today. And then, when the questions become personal, he must decide for himself what he chooses to do and believe.
Out of Darkness, by Ashley Hope Pérez
In New London, Texas, during 1937, Naomi Fuller, a Mexican American, and Wash Fuller, a black American, navigate the inherent racism that exists in their small town, stepping over the color lines that separate them from those who are white. Love, tension, and tragedy mark this phenomenal book.
Long Way Down, by Jason Reynolds
The entire book takes place in 60 seconds, an elevator ride during which a kid tries to decide whether or not he’s going to murder the guy who killed his brother. Told in narrative verse, this book is a revelation of teenage gun violence, revenge, and, ultimately, what it means to forgive.
All American Boys, by Jason Reynolds and Brendon Kiely
Two teenage boys, one black and one white, have to come to terms with a violent act that leaves their school, community, and the country on different sides of a racial war. A police brutality incident against a black boy sets the book off into a whirlwind of questions, anger, and reparation.
Adult
Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America, by Michael Eric Dyson
Michael Eric Dyson, in this short and emotional book, provides everything a white person needs to know about the black struggle for equality—one that exists even today. He begins with a compelling plea: “The time is at hand for reckoning with the past, recognizing the truth of the present, and moving together to redeem the nation for our future. If we don’t act now, if you don’t address race immediately, there very well may be no future.”
Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates
A lyrically disturbing and yet moving book about America’s racial history and current crisis. Written as a letter to his son, Coates examines race and what it’s like to inhabit a black body—and what we might do to improve the future.
Stamped from the Beginning: the Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America, by Ibram X. Kendi
An incredibly comprehensive look at America’s racist history and the racist thoughts and beliefs that still exist today. Kendi uses the stories of five major American intellectuals to provide a frame for his narrative history—Puritan minister Cotton Mather, Thomas Jefferson, abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison, W.E.B. Du Bois and anti-prison activist Angela Davis. Fascinating look at what has brought us to our current situation—and what we can now do about it.
We Were Eight Years in Power, by Ta-Nehisi Coates
A collection of new and old essays, Coates explores our more recent racial history, from the election of our first black president and then the backlash that fueled a completely different election. Riveting and powerful, it provides a deep and incisive look at the racial issues of modern America.
The Warmth of Other Suns: the Epic Story of America’s Great Migration, by Isabel Wilkerson
A fascinating narrative about the migration of almost six million black people during the years between 1915 and 1970. She follows the lives of three individuals and their stories—what contributed to their migration and what they found when they got where they were going.
Kill ‘Em and Leave: Searching for James Brown and the American Soul, by James McBride
Though it’s a narrative examination of James Brown’s life—the true, unedited story—McBride engages in commentary on the racial world in the American south, which provides a valuable look at the circumstances that shaped James Brown and others who grew up black in the south. Kill ‘Em and Leave is one of the most fascinating and well-written biographies I’ve read.
*The above are an affiliate links. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
by Rachel Toalson | Books
When I was in high school, I watched the movie Girl, Interrupted, without even considering that it might have been based on a book. So at the beginning of this year, when I discovered it was actually a book first, of course I had to read it.
Girl, Interrupted, by Susanna Kaysen, was an incredibly engaging memoir about Kaysen’s stay in a mental institution when she was 18. After a session with an unknown psychiatrist, Kaysen was put in a taxi and sent to McLean Hospital (the same place Sylvia Plath, Robert Lowell, James Taylor and Ray Charles had spent some time), where she spent the next two years of her life in a ward for teenage girls.
Kaysen provides a clear picture of life in a mental institution and the intricacies of the mind and madness.
Here are three things I enjoyed most about it:
1. The courage. Kaysen shared documents and a truthful interpretation of her time in the hospital. It takes a brave person to share about a mental health journey in such a transparent way.
2. The characters. All of Kaysen’s friends in the hospital were very interesting characters who could be, by turns, completely sane and altogether mad. Her characters proved the delicate balance between sanity and madness.
3. The insight. I’ve been conducting research on madness and mental institutions, and this book was extremely valuable to understanding the inner workings of hospitals, though Kaysen was admitted in the late ’60s. She also provides a very deep picture of those who suffer from mental illness and a compassionate view of madness and struggle. She didn’t completely resolve the book, either, because mental health is never a completely resolved thing.
My favorite lines from the book come from its opening:
“People ask, How did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. I can’t answer the real question. All I can tell them is, It’s easy.”
And these words, near the end, were disturbing:
“I began to feel revulsion too. Insane people: I had a good nose for them and I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. I still don’t. I can’t come up with reassuring answers to the terrible questions they raise.
“Don’t ask me those questions! Don’t ask me what life means or how we know reality or why we have to suffer so much. Don’t talk about how nothing feels real, how everything is coated with gelatin and shining like oil in the sun. I don’t want to hear about the tiger in the corner or the Angel of Death or the phone calls from John the Baptist. He might give me a call too. But I’m not going to pick up the phone.
“If I who was previously revolting am now this far from my crazy self, how much further are you who were never revolting, and how much deeper your revulsion?”
All in all, the book was a gripping read, full of emotion, information, and philosophy.
*The above is an affiliate link. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
by Rachel Toalson | Books
I’ve been waiting to read Maybe a Fox, by Kathi Appelt and Alison McGhee for the entire summer and fall, because my 7-year-old had hidden it somewhere I couldn’t find it, and we spent months looking for it. Turns out it was behind his bed, a place he says he looked but clearly didn’t.
So I finally got around to reading it, and it was spectacular.
I didn’t really expect anything less from these two authors, who are two of my favorites and whose books I always buy. It lived up to every expectation: it was beautiful, bittersweet, and unforgettable.
Appelt and McGhee combined the story of two sisters and a best friend with local folklore and myth to craft a masterpiece around a place called “the slip,” which carried with it a mystery and a bit of terror. The authors have a lyrical writing style, which is one of the reasons I read everything they write, that combines a masterful use of language with the gift of simplicity characteristic of middle grade books. Every book they write is a careful composition of poetry and intrigue.
Here are three things I enjoyed most about Maybe a Fox.
1. The symbols: Jules Sherman collects rocks, and she lays her “burning wishes” on them and then throws them into “the slip.” The rocks became symbols throughout the story that kept bringing her back to love and wonder and irrepressible hope.
2. The folklore: There were elements that had the feel of folklore in this story—the cave, the water that took people under (“the slip”), the connection with animals, specifically a fox. It was all masterfully intertwined and beautifully rendered.
3. Family ties: The book dealt with a difficult subject, but it was approached in such a sweet and innocent and hopeful way. Death isn’t always easy to talk about with children, but Appelt and McGhee handled it with fully capable hands.
Here’s an example of the authors’ lyrical language:
“Jules’s cheeks flushed with a bright blaze of anger. Here she was standing alone again, this time in the echo of the slammed bedroom door. The morning was still early. A gray dimness came in through their window, aided only by a thin beam from the hallway that slipped in under the door.”
Maybe a Fox is an emotionally-charged, superbly written book that is perfect for a family read-aloud.
*The above is an affiliate link. I only recommend books that I personally enjoy. I actually don’t even talk about the books I don’t enjoy, because I’d rather forget I ever wasted time reading them. But if you’re ever curious whether I’ve read a book and whether I liked or disliked it, don’t hesitate to ask.
