The CookBook Collector Gave me Food Poisoning

Ack--am I the only person in the world who thought Allegra Goodman's The Cookbook Collector stunk? Let me count the ways: the plot was utterly predictable, the characters were completely unlikable, and there were too many minor subplots and coincidences to believe. I have read a few of Goodman's short stories, and I loved them. But this novel is awful (although to be fair, I also felt compelled to finish it). I have read comparisons to Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility , but that's an insult to Dear Jane.

I'm not going to recount the (completely contrived) plot here, but suffice it to say that Goodman threw in everything she could to the mix, including 9/11, tech startups, and ecowarriors. Oh, and an unbelievable coincidence that results in the two main characters discovering that they had an entirely new family in England, and their aunt (cousin?) just happened to be the nice rabbi's wife one of the sisters recently met. Agh--even recounting the novel makes me mad that I wasted the time reading it! And how can someone make events that were so monumental to so many people seem banal and super dated?

This is way I usually read kids' books. . .

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet

This week I turned back into an adult, and read The Thousand Autumns of Jacob DeZoet. It's fantastic, plain and simple. The novel is set in shogun-ruled Japan in 1799, and details the experiences of a clerk in the Dutch East India Company, Jacob DeZoet. But the book is so much more than the story of this one character. The author, David Mitchell (who was Man Booker Prize nominee for Cloud Atlas), manages to combine a page-turning suspense novel with a fascinating history lesson on imperial Japan, Dutch colonialism, and life in the 18th century, all rolled into one. Mitchell's writing is absolutely gorgeous, but beyond that, his pacing of the novel is fantastic. I couldn't put it down. And what's not to love about learning major history in so painless a package? Loved, loved, loved this book. My only two quibbles are that occasionally I mixed up some of the minor characters (some of the Dutch and Japanese names and their characters weren't easily distinquishable), and at the end, Mitchell feels the need to sum up. I hate summing up. But those two gripes aside, this is a novel worth reading at least a couple of times.
And if you like this one, have a go at The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng. It is equally terrific.

What's the Fuss with Savvy?

Am I the only reader who didn't much care for Savvy, by Ingrid Law? The book is a NY Times bestseller, won a Horn Book Honor Award, and received a bunch of starred reviews. So what's wrong with me? I thought it seemed really old-fashioned, cloyingly predictable, and so completely unrealistic that I'm sure the Hallmark Hall of Fame Channel has already bought the rights to it. The only thing that set it apart from every other nostalgia-tinged book about a midwestern road trip was the Beaumont family's kind of creepy collection of special powers. Mibs, the narrator, ends up with the creepiest "savvy" of them all: she can read a person's mind through his or her tattoo. Poor Mibs received a recipe for schizophrenia. Her brother, Fish, conjures up hurricanes any time he gets mad. And since he's 13 and apparently somewhat maladjusted, storms are abrewing all the time around the Beaumont's house. Elder brother Rocket can create electricity, while their Grandpa causes earthquakes. And what about their youngest brother, Samson? He spends all his time hiding and doesn't speak. Add to the mix the preacher's rebellious, Goth-wearing daughter who just wants a friend and her brother (who turns out to be her nephew, but it's a big secret), put them on a bus with a wimpy traveling Bible salesman who meets up with a chubby and clueless ex-waitress who practically adopts them, and you end up with a road trip that is completely predictable and an ending that readers can spot coming from miles away. I like a little bite with my books, characters who behave more like real kids and less like characters out of a 1940's dust bowl movie. This book is just too sweet, the "savvies" too weird, and the plot all-around odd. But apparently I'm the only reader who thinks so. Go figure.

Justin Case: Third Grade Worrywart

What is it about turning 8, or being in 3rd grade, that turns previously happily oblivious kids into neurotic worrywarts? All of my kids had a tough year when they were 8, and looking back on it, I did, too. I'm sure child development experts have interesting theories about it, but from my perspective, 3rd grade is a year full of anxiety that kids just have to get through. Coping with the trauma of third grade is the theme of, Justin Case: School, Drool, and Other Disasters by Rachel Vail. Justin Krzeszewski, nicknamed Justin Case, is chock-a-block full of worries, from doing well in school to avoiding the monsters under his bed to having to climb the rope in gym. Justin has lost his favorite stuffed animal, but he can't tell anyone about it because he's pretty sure he's too old to have stuffed animals. He's convinced his life would be infinitely better if he had a dog--but when he finally gets one, he's terrified of it. And friend drama? Phew!

I loved this book, because Justin is such an appealing character, and so beautifully embodies that hard age when a child still needs the comfort of a stuffed animal and pretend play but is pretty sure no one else his age does. I was rooting for him from the start. A real enhancement to the written characterization of Justin was the very endearing illustrations by Matthew Cordell. The novel is presented somewhat similarly to the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series, in a combination of text and cartoony drawings, so I was expecting a smarty pants ripoff of Wimpy Kid, but was delightedly surprised at Justin's sweet vulnerability. He's a truly nice but very normal kid, which is surprisingly rare in children's literature these days. And although Gregg Heffley is an incredibly funny if completely heartless and self-absorbed character, I'd rather have a kid like Justin, worry warts and all.

Ah-Choo! The Uncommon Life of the Common Cold

After reading Ah-Choo! The Uncommon Life of the Common Cold, I don't ever want to touch a doorknob or stay at a hotel again.

Apparently while it's nigh near impossible to catch a cold from french kissing someone (since cold virus isn't readily spread from mouth to mouth), you're a goner if you have kids, work in a school, or pretty much touch any interior surface without wearing a hazmat suit.

Turns out that most cold virus isn't transmitted via airborne particles, so coughing,sneezing, or slobbering all over each other isn't as dangerous as you'd think. But steer clear of supermarket cart handles and money--dammit, both of those are things I touch a lot. Elevator buttons are also little cold factories, says author Jennifer Ackerman.

I suppose I shouldn't complain--if I get a cold, at least I can blow my nose. Apparently Wally Schirra and the other astronauts of Apollo 7 all caught colds and had to deal with a runny nose in space. No gravity, no tissues, no good.

Author Ackerman is very good at what she does--this book is both a really entertaining read and a great resource, and I love books that teach me something useful without having to work at it. For some reason, this has been catalogued at our library in the young adult section, but it's probably more appropriately shelved in nonfiction. Bottom line: Read the book and wash your hands both before and after.

And if you like Ackerman's tone and style, pick up any book byMary Roach. Her book, Stiff, made me rethink dying altogether.

Boxcar Children Graphic Novels--Die, Die!

I've had to review several graphic novelizations of the beloved Gertrude Chandler Warner's Boxcar Children series. I hadn't read many of these in full-length form, since I was more of a Trixie Belden fan, but the graphic novels are wretched. A marketing company of some kind bought the graphic novel rights to the series, and they've killed the books. I'm not sure if its the crummy rendering of the characters (it's really hard to tell the Alden kids apart from each other or the characters they interact with in each novel) or the fact that the plots of each mystery are so condensed and chopped up that they are very difficult to follow. But what really irritated me about all of the ones I've read thus far are the random characters that appear and disappear with no explanation. I assume these mysterious folks are important characters in the full-length versions of the novels, but who the heck knows? Not me.

I suppose the graphic novels could be useful for very reluctant readers as an introduction and summary of the full-length books in the series, but I wouldn't waste the money.

Nonfiction for elementary school scientists--The Secret Lives of Burrowing Beasts

I received an interesting nf book in the mail recently: The Secret Lives of Burrowing Beasts by Sarah Swan Miller. The book is part of a new series by educational publisher, Marshall Cavendish, (who have really stepped up the appeal of their books to a more general audience, by the way--their books used to be the equivalent of taking medicine--it was unpleasant but you knew they were good for you).

While the vast majority of animals spend their time aboveground, there are some pretty amazing creatures that rarely venture into the open air. Known as burrowers, these animals have special adaptations that allow them to live and thrive underground. The Secret Lives of Burrowing Beasts, as its name implies, presents a wide variety of burrowing mammals, amphibians, and reptiles from around the world, ranging from African aadvarks to worm lizards. The text is lively and engaging, focusing on presenting a general overview of the animal's habitat, its adaptations for life underground, and how they find food and grow. Boxed sidebars scattered throughout the book offer little factoids about particular animals, and four-color close up photos of many of the animals provide some great, "eww" moments. Apparently, attractiveness isn't a big asset to a creature that no one ever sees. The star-nosed mole is particularly unfortunate-looking, I think.

I've only read this book in the series, but this is exactly the kind of lively introduction to creatures living in unusual habitats that elementary school libraries and classrooms need. Thumbs up, Sarah Miller, and Marshall Cavendish!
The Secret Lives of Burrowing Beasts
ISBN: 978-0-7614-4221-9