The Giver

     In 1993, Lois Lowry had a book published titled The Giver (New York: Houghton Mifflin). It won the Newbery Medal, and seems to be generally credited with sparking the YA fiction trend in publishing, especially when it comes to dystopian future settings. Despite that, I enjoyed it, because it built so solidly off the work of Ray Bradbury in Fahrenheit 451, George Orwell in 1984 and Aldous Huxley in Brave New World. 

     Jonas is eleven years old, and he has a sister named Lily. Each family unit in their Community has only two children as required by law, and everyone is color blind. There is no weather as we know it, nor hills or valleys. Music doesn't exist, and neither do emotions. There is no war, or hunger, or conflict. Instead, everything relies on Sameness, genetically-engineered conformity. (Though this doesn't always work out....some people have blue eyes, and his friend Fiona has red hair. "Life will find a way," as the characters in Michael Crichton's Jurassic Park and Lost World say.) He is looking forward to turning twelve, where the Elders will assign him the job he will work for the rest of his life.
     He is assigned to be the new Receiver; the person tasked with living with all the known memories of things that once were - battles(we see flashbacks of the Civil War), pain, love and happiness. The previous Receiver, who Jonas calls "The Giver," wishes to train someone new to take over this burden of handling the weight of the world's experiences. Through this training, he becomes able to comprehend concepts like hunting, war, starvation and anger. Also, through a glimpse of a family gathering at Christmas, love.
     This is a big problem, because his family unit has been taking care of an unnecessary baby named Gabe, who will soon have to be Released: killed by lethal injection and left alone to perish. And that can't happen. So Jonas and the Giver decide that he should escape; with the Giver staying behind to help the Community's citizens deal with the influx of memories that will wash over them once Jonas disappears. (The Giver knows this is needed because of the way the last Receiver-in-training reacted; she couldn't handle it and fell apart. The memories caused a large panic throughout the Community.)
     Jonas and Gabe escape into the strangeness that is Elsewhere; eventually coming to hills, seeing things like trees, and experiencing coldness and snow. The ending is ambiguous; either they escape to the safety of a little village, or they die of hypothermia like Hans Christian Andersen's Little Match Girl.

     There is a definite sense throughout the book that the current state of affairs is wrong, in some concrete, definable way. There isn't much detail given about how things got to this current state, but there is enough detail for the setting to feel believable. The third-person limited narration also feels authentic, and the tone is realistic, instead of being idealized like later dystopian-YA protagonists.  .

Old Yeller

     Old Yeller (1956), by Frank Gipson, is one of those tearjerker dog stories which would make life miserable if they didn't exist. It was a Newbery Honor book, and made into a movie by Disney the next year.

     This story takes place in the West Texas community of Salt Lick in the late 1860's, as best our narrator, Travis Coates, can remember. The men in the community decide to start a cattle drive to Abilene, six hundred miles north, in order to get some money. So fourteen-year-old Travis is left to take care of his mother and rock-throwing five-year-old brother, Little Arliss, as best he can until the men get back in fall. That goes well enough, until one day a very ugly dingy-yellowish dog with no tail and one ear steals the last bit of ham out of the smokehouse. Arliss adopts the dog, much to Travis's displeasure. And he also steals chicken eggs, according to Lisbeth Searcy, their pretty neighbor.
     However, Old Yeller scares off a pair of dueling bulls that threatened to smash up the Coates cabin, and then he saves Little Arliss from a wild bear. That endears Travis to both Yeller and Arliss, and from there on he discovers how smart and useful the dog can be. Which is why it's such a worry when a man comes along claiming that he owns Yeller. But on seeing how much Travis and Arliss love/need the dog - having been a boy himself, and likely with a boyhood dog of his own - the man (a bachelor) agrees to let them keep the dog in exchange for one of Mama's home-cooked meals. He also prominently foreshadows (without much subtlety) the oncoming plague of hydrophobia.
     Yeller then saves Travis from a group of angry wild hogs, getting all slashed to bits, and barely hanging on to life. Just when he's about healed, though, two cows get hydrophobia and have to be shot. (And burned, so the wolves and buzzards won't spread the infection.) Just after Mama and Lisbeth finish burning the second cow, they're attacked by a mad gray wolf, only to be saved by Yeller. After some time, Papa and the rest of the men come back from the cattle drive, and Lisbeth gives Travis a puppy, parents Yeller and her dog Miss Prissy(who was herself a puppy of Bell, the Coates' previous dog), and Travis decides to teach the puppy and Little Arliss how to hunt squirrels.

     Lots of people would consider this one a prime candidate for Saddest Ending Ever Written, but in my opinion Where the Red Fern Grows, by Wilson Rawls, is far worse(and by that I mean, while still horribly sad, much more worthwhile and beautiful). It's noble that Yeller dies protecting his family, and the tension of the hydrophobic cows is strong, but this just isn't that special a story. There is a lot of this-is-how-things-were-done-on-the-frontier-at-that-time description of hunting and trapping techniques, which some boys would likely love(like my brothers). I would have preferred more societal/historical details about the setting, if it were me. Travis is a frustrating narrator, because, no matter how responsible, the attitudes of most early teen boys are insufferable by nature(I'm sure I was, too). He was still easier to deal with than Katniss, though. I think it's because of the movie that this is considered such a classic.

#Wesley

The Story of Ferdinand

     The Story of Ferdinand (New York, Viking, 1938), by Munro Leaf and illustrated by Robert Lawson, is one of my favorite picture books of all time.

     Once upon a time, on a farm somewhere in Spain, there was a little bull born named Ferdinand. All the other little bulls he lived with in their pasture would run and jump and butt their heads together - but not Ferdinand. Instead, he liked to just sit quietly and smell the flowers, watching the world go by under his favorite cork tree. His mother, a cow, was worried about him; because little bulls do not usually watch the world go by. But Ferdinand explained that he wasn't lonesome and he was having a good time, and because she was an understanding mother (even if she was only a cow) she let him be.
     All young bulls, no matter what their personality or behavioral quirks, must grow, and so Ferdinand also grew to be a big, strong, fearsome animal. Fearsome in appearance, that is - he still loved to sit and smell the flowers. All the other bulls would fight each other all day long, because they wanted to be one of the bulls chosen to be in the big bull fights in Madrid. But Ferdinand just watched, like always.
     One day five men in very funny hats came down for Madrid to select which bulls would be chosen as the biggest, roughest, and fastest one of them all. So all the other bulls were butting each other and sticking each other with their sharp horns. They snorted and bucked and leaped and jumped so that the men would think they were very very strong and fierce and pick them. Ferdinand knew they would never pick him, and he didn't care, so what was the point of showing off? He walked to his favorite cork tree and sat down - right on A BEE. Bees do not enjoy being sat on. So this one stung Ferdinand, right on the rump. And that HURT! So Ferdinand rose up with a snort, and he ran around puffing and snorting, butting and pawing the ground as if he were crazy. The five men in the funny hats were delighted - this must be the bull for the trip to Madrid!
     So they took him away in a funny-looking cart, and there was a great celebration in Madrid. (Mr. Ernest Hemingway writes a lot about it in his novel The Sun Also Rises.) Flags were flying, bands were playing, and (best of all for Ferdinand) all the ladies were wearing pretty-smelling flowers in their hair. There was a parade into the bullring - first came the Banderilleros with long pointy sticks to poke the bull and make him mad. And next came the Picadores on skinny, horses, who carried long sharp spears to jab the bull with and make him even madder. Finally came the Matador, who was very vain (for the ladies all thought he was quite handsome) and he had a red cape and a sword, and he was supposed to stick them into the bull last of all. And then after that came the bull. You know who that was, right? Yes, that's right - it was Ferdinand.
     All the people in the crowd called him Ferdinand the Fierce and all the Banderilleros were afraid of him, and all the Picadores were afraid of him, and the Matador was scared stiff. Ferdinand ran into the middle of the ring, and everyone in the crowd cheered and clapped their hands, thinking that he would now act very fierce and scary and give them all a good show. But Ferdinand saw all the nice-smelling flowers the pretty ladies were wearing, and so he just sat down and smelled. This made the Banderilleros very mad, and it made the Picadores even madder, and the vain Matador was so mad he cried, because he couldn't show off with his fancy cape and sword.
     So they had to take Ferdinand home, since he wouldn't fight. And for all I know, he may be there under his favorite cork tree still, smelling the flowers.

     It would be hard to say how much I love this book. For one thing, fighting should only be done if it must (like if you are stung by a bee). Otherwise, it is much more interesting to watch all the other bulls in the pasture running and jumping and butting their heads together, because that is conflict, which is needed in a good story. And those come from long moments of sitting quietly and observing the world.

#Wesley

Open Wide: Tooth School Inside

     Laurie Keller's first book, The Scrambled States of America, was a runaway success. So her second book, Open Wide: Tooth School Inside (New York: Henry Holt, 2000) takes the same educational-ish-while-still-being-hysterical format and applies it to dentistry(not the most exciting or interesting subject). But told in this way, it works really well.

     We spend the day in the halls of Tooth School, following the students throughout their day, from the Pledge of Allegiance("I pledge allegiance to this mouth, and to the dentist who takes care of us. And to the gums on which we stand, strong and healthy, with toothbrushes and toothpaste for all.") to the end-of-day bell. The cast we particularly follow is Dr. Flossman and the 32 students in his class. There are the eight incisors, Omar, Liza, Elvis, Sherrie, Sally, Sam, Ira and Ingrid. They're sort of used to being the center of attention. There are the four canines of Candy, Conan, Christy and Carl. The eight (musical) premolars have their own choir; they are Lola, Charlie, Pinky, Penelope, Rosie, Boopsy, Preston and Pedro. Then there are the twelve molars - Rusty, Martin, Marilyn, Marky, Bubba, Millicent, Roland and Melody. (What's that? You only counted eight molars? That's because the rest are Wisdom Teeth. Yep. Edward, Wallace, Wendy and Evelyn. They're weird smart. Like they yawn through episodes of Jeopardy!, saying that the questions are too easy.).
     Principal Fillingston gives his daily announcements over the intercom - there's some bridge work being done, so buses might be a little late today. And there will be a dance after the Chompers' football game on Friday night against the Plaqueville Germs. (Wallace Molar is reading a copy of the Canine in the Rye during these announcements, and Liza Incisor is stuck up.) Almost everyone failed last week's quiz on what healthy teeth ought to look like, so Dr. Flossman has to explain all that info again, including what the teeth are made out of. The part that can be seen is the crown. The outside layer is made of enamel, which is a hard coating protecting them from bacteria and germs.  Under that coating is dentin, which makes up most of the teeth. Pulp is what hurts when one of the teeth has an ache. The root keeps each tooth in place, fastened to the gums by a thin layer called cementum.
     Sally Incisor then reads her (rather incoherent) essay on the Tooth Fairy, and Dr. Flossman plays a videotape so the class can learn more about her. Then it's time for lunch, so everyone breaks into their groups: the incisors are food cutters, the canines food tearers, the premolars food crushers, and the molars are food grinders. (Martin Molar's mother made him a peanut-butter-and-onion sandwich.) During lunch there's a food fight, and then recess. (Preston Premolar had dirt for lunch, and Carl Canine and Lola Premolar are a couple, according to a mark on the schoolyard tree.) A terrifying lesson on cavities is next, so the terrified teeth hastily brush themselves clean. Dr. Flossman reads to them from the bestselling book So You've Got Yourself a Cavity, by Dr. Lou Stooth, then he promotes the Wisdom Teeth onward for higher learning. (Roland Molar is running for Student Council President, according to a banner in the hallway.)
     The history reports need to be read next, and we find out that ancient Egyptians believed that an onion, spice and incense mix would cure toothaches. (And maybe it did. They knew their medicine.) Mayans filed their teeth into different shapes (OUCH!!!!) and decorated them with jewels, while in the early 1600's Japanese women blackened their teeth (ew) to show loyalty to their husbands. Then the school bell rings, and everyone is free for the day. Except for the two quizzes of homework in the back of the book, one true/false and the other multiple choice. This helps reinforce the educational facts we've learned throughout the book.

     The final two pages are more entertaining scribbles adding depth to the world of these teeth, similar to the comments in the margins from The Scrambled States of America. It's a very well-written and well-drawn book, which ought to be read by pretty much everyone with kids, in my opinion.

#Wesley

The Giving Tree

      First, let me just point out that Shel Silverstein was one of the scariest-looking people on Earth. Anyway, he could write, though; even if most of his stuff is rather strange. But The Giving Tree(New York: Harper and Row, 1964) is one of the best picture books ever written, I'd say, because of the sacrificial love the tree displays.

     The plot is simple: There is a boy who climbs a tree and eats her apples, swings from her branches, carves messages into the bark of the trunk, etc. Eventually, though, he gets older, and then he carves a girl's name into the trunk, not spending as much time with the tree. This makes the tree lonely, but she still loves the boy. He says that he would like some money, and while the tree doesn't have any(being a tree, obviously), she suggests that the boy gather her apples and sell them in the market. So he climbs into her branches again, "and the tree was happy."
     Then the boy goes away again for a very long time. Then he comes back as a middle-aged man, and asks if the tree can help him get a house. (This doesn't make much sense if you think about it too long.) The tree has a house already - the woods - but she suggests that the boy cut off her branches and make a house out of them. (What kind of house can be made out of chopped-up tree branches, I've always sorta wondered.)
     He stays away for another very long time, returning as an old man seeking to get away from everything. So the tree says that he can cut off most of her trunk to use as a boat, if he wishes. (The picture shows that the trunk gets chopped off at the girl's name he'd marked all those years earlier, leading me to think for a long time that he had gotten married to the girl "Y.L." and then they divorced. But seeing how elderly the man is on writing this review, I think it's more likely that that girl died of some sickness.)
     After another long time, the tree is just a wizened stump, and the boy is now ancient and feeble. The tree apologizes that she has nothing left to give him, but the boy says that he is too old and weak to do anything except sit and rest. So the tree admits that stumps are very good for resting upon. "'Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.' So the Boy did. And the tree was happy."

     This book can be seen as a great depiction of the tree's selfless love, which is how I usually see it. Other people have complained that the relationship between the tree and the boy is abusive, which I can kind of see, too. The boy never thanks the tree or does anything for her; he just always takes. I guess it just depends on how you wanted to look at it. Either way, this is one of the most influential picture books of the twentieth century.

#Wesley

The Scrambled States of America

     Laurie Keller's Scrambled States of America (New York: Henry Holt, 1998) is one of my favorite picture books of all time. (Which is saying something, because there's a lot of really great ones out there.) This was her first book, after working several years as a Hallmark greeting-card designer.

     It's narrated by a man named Sam, who opens by telling us that he bets that we've heard it all, but that not many people know this story. Ohio and Virginia rush up, both wanting to tell this story, but Sam tells them to get back in their places. Then he begins: "It was just your basic, ordinary day in the good ol' U.S. of A., and all the states were waking up, having their first cups of morning coffee, and enjoying the beautiful sunrise." (All the states, that is, except for Kansas.) How do we know this? Well, because he tells us so: "I'M NOT FEELING HAPPY AT ALL!" he yells. His very kind best friend Nebraska asks him what's wrong. "I don't know, I just feel bored. All day long we just stand here in the middle of the country. We never GO anywhere. We never DO anything. And we NEVER meet any NEW states!" So Nebraska thinks a while, deciding that Kansas might have a point.
     So then Kansas has the idea to invite all the other states to a get-to-know-you party, they enlist their neighbors Missouri and Iowa to help plan, and "those wacky little Midwestern states planned the biggest party ever," according to Sam. (Keller throws in wonderful little background details like Nebraska's disgusted expression while licking stamps, and Iowa's uncertainty how to spell Connecticut. Guess he didn't read Yo, Millard Fillmore!)
     At the party, Tennessee drops his fork at least three times and Nevada and Mississippi fall in love. Late into the evening, Idaho and Virginia have the idea to switch places, so each can see a different part of the country. Everyone else loves this idea, and everyone quickly makes plans to swap with someone. (This works out better for some states than others. Indiana, Alabama and New York all switch places with California, for example.) But as Roy, a minor character from Peanuts, once said of Charlie Brown: "He's the type that makes a good temporary friend." The states realize this wasn't the best arrangement, as Alaska has Michigan's thumb tickling one side of him and Oklahoma's Panhandle jabbing into the other. Arizona's hair keeps getting destroyed by the waves where South Carolina used to live.
     Even faster than they made the first trip, everyone wanted very quickly to go home as soon as they could. (So in Virginia's bus, West Virginia and Ohio play Go Fish to pass the time. Colorado hikes, Indiana skateboards ) There's lot to talk about when they get home; Alaska's joke-telling skills, Minnesota explaining how awful sunburns are, and samples of food were exchanged to give to neighbors. The final two pages are filled with quick sketches of landmarks interacting, like Minnesota's 10,000 Lakes visiting the Grand Canyon. It's really entertaining, and a great way to wrap up the story.

#Wesley

Island of the Blue Dolphins

    Sometimes when you're sick, your brain turns to mush. So, you pick up the nearest piece of paper and curl  in a ball to wait it out. Anyway that was me last week, and Island of the Blue Dolphins, by Scott O'Dell, was the nearest piece of paper. It's the perfect sick book, all about a native american girl who's tribe decided to leave their land -- island, I guess-- accidentally leaving her behind to fend for herself, and have a bunch of adventures. She befriends a wild dog, fights an octopus, and makes a skirt out of crow feathers. I think I read it in like six hours. Overall a fun, quick read. I really loved this book, sorry for the lame review.  

*Courtney