Like many others before me, I find myself at a loss. There’s no earthly reason why this book should be interesting, but it is. It didn’t take long for me to fall into Piranesi’s narration, which is highly logical yet leaves you with more questions than answers.
This book is about a man named Piranesi who lives in a sprawling classical building complex surrounded by the ocean. The building is bursting with statues depicting all kinds of things. Its lower floors are flooded. It’s filled with birds. You can see the stars.
Piranesi calls himself a beloved child of the house. He’s content to live a rather survivalist life in this lonely place, yet he’s not unhappy. He keeps a daily journal. He meticulously maps the house. He lovingly cares for the dead bodies in the house. Twice weekly, he meets with The Other, another man who inhabits the house. The Other is on a quest for deeper and higher knowledge.
That’s the setup. I know. Weird!
Even though it may seem like this book is about nothing, it is about life. Probably? We try to make sense of where we find ourselves in the world. No matter how large or small the scope of life, we seek to understand it, document it, and sustain it. Piranesi is a master at living in the moment.
But what happens when an external force challenges what we believe to be true about the world? What happens when there is more to the world than we thought? How do we react when we realize we have been wrong, that we’ve forgotten things?
Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of this book, but it sure was an interesting foray into a non-cheesy fantasy world.
I listened to Faith Moore’s podcast series on A Christmas Carol this year and loved it. She does a great job of narrating the book as well as interjecting short “notes” to clarify what’s going on and bring out important pieces. So, reading her spinoff novel seemed like the perfect companion to the podcast.
This book reimagines Scrooge as a middle-aged workaholic woman named Karol. Unlike Scrooge, she has a family, but she has disconnected from them and isn’t interested in spending time with them. Christmas isn’t a happy time for Karol, as it causes her to remember her mother’s death and her estrangement from her sister. But she does find solace in her career as a lawyer, which is going very well.
Karol believes that her husband and kids don’t need her—they only need her to work to provide money to sustain their lifestyle. She likes the way she feels when she’s at work: in control, successful, powerful. She doesn’t like the way she feels at home: trapped, out of the loop, redundant. This leads her to where she is at the start of the book: A success at work, and a failure at home. But she doesn’t see her homemaking failures as a big deal. She’s a high-powered NYC lawyer…and that’s the very definition of success, isn’t it?
Karol calls her employees to work on Christmas Eve to handle an issue regarding a Very Important Client, but on her way to a meeting, she slips and hits her head in Rockefeller Center and ends up in the hospital—but it’s not your typical hospital. There, she has three separate encounters with the past, present, and future. These cause her to rethink her notions of success and confront the deep unhappiness that she’s been trying so hard to mask with money and makeup.
I really enjoyed this book because I’ve chosen to devote my talents and energies to professional homemaking. I’ve largely phased out of any type of money-making work. I stay at home with my kids and homeschool them. My days are dominated by parenting challenges and household chores. I have chocolate-chip banana bread in the oven as I type this book review. I’m one of those. Naturally, I enjoy reading books that reinforce my life choices.
But, I also believe that what Faith Moore is saying about finding joy is true. Investing in my husband and my kids is something I won’t regret. I may not make any money, but I save a heck of a lot of it. I know my kids inside and out, better than they know themselves. My husband and I agree that we have the best marriage of anyone we know. These are not small matters. They are what a fulfilled life is built on.
Are there days when I wish I could put my kids on the school bus and let someone else deal with them? Sure! Are there days when I die a little bit inside, knowing that I will perform grunt work from morning til night? Of course! Are there times when I look with envy at beautifully dressed women who have important jobs to run off to? Yes. But I wouldn’t trade what I have.
Let me be clear: This book isn’t saying that all women should be homemakers. It is saying that all women should prioritize the human connections in their lives over material gains. Making husbands and kids a priority (instead of an afterthought) will lead to a correct ordering of affection, which leads to joy and fulfillment. No amount of money or success can fill the void when husband and kids have grown cold and indifferent.
Some may find this message grates on them or feels too political, and it’s hard for me to offer an unbiased opinion because I agree with what this book is saying. But, if you value the home and the woman’s role in it, then I think you’ll find a lot to like in this retelling.
I read this book with my 7- and 9-year-olds for Sarah MacKenzie’s Christmas School this year. I was surprised by how much they were able to access, despite the old-fashioned language. This tale echoes through so many other stories that they’re familiar with, namely the Grinch.
I am a fan of The Muppet’s Christmas Carol movie, as well as Mickey’s Christmas Carol (I had a bootleg VHS recording of this as a kid), but I cannot abide the Jim Carrey version.
My 9-year-old and 7-year-old boys loved this fantasy series that’s loosely based on the early life of King David. In this final book, Aidan Errolson must come out of hiding in the Feechiefen to face the impending downfall of King Darrow. The only question is will Darrow take down Corenwald with him? Well, we know that Aidan won’t let that happen without a fight, and we know that he has what it takes.
This book has some of the best Dobro moments in the series. He’s such a funny character, and my boys have now incorporated a new inside-joke phrase into their repertoire: “Time to leave these neighborhoooooooods!” For whatever reason, that one stuck.
This book also has a few very touching moments that made me choke up. No spoilers.
A few thoughts on the series overall:
1. There are almost no girls in the series. My boys did not comment on this or bat an eyelash. They are boys and love reading about boys. Girl readers, though, may notice. This book contains a few girl characters—rich ladies from Tambluff, including one spirited young woman who can match Dobro stride for stride.
2. The series focuses so closely on Aiden that the worldbuilding and external plot feel rather loose. It’s rather like the first Narnia book. We don’t get a lengthy deep-dive into the lore of the land, nor do we get our specific questions answered. We just take things as they come at us. This is largely the same. Although it’s a fantasy, don’t expect the granular detail or tightly woven fabric of a series like HP.
In fact, Rogers seems to intentionally go in the opposite direction, dedicating whole chapters to tree-chopping contests, feechie ballads, and other seeming side notes. Often, these colorful scenes were favorites of my boys. They are young and always up for a laugh.
3. In case you’re wondering, as I did, how far into David’s life this series goes, it focuses on David’s early life: facing Goliath, King Saul’s paranoia, Jonathan’s friendship, and going on the run with his followers. There is no Bathsheba character nor any intentional murders. Also, it’s not a beat-for-beat retelling. It’s inspired by King David, not based on him.
A SMALL SPOILER: I will say that I find it incredibly interesting that Rogers chose to make the feechies and civilizers long-lost relatives. They both descend from the same mainland tribe. The feechies came to the island first, and the civilizers came much later—so much later that they didn’t recognize any shared history with the feechies. Far from being two separate peoples, they discover that they are, in fact, one. I find spiritual significance in this.
My boys laughed along with this one even more than the first. They thought the feechiesing was the best thing in the world. They utterly connected with the rudeswaps and wrasslin’. They thoroughly enjoyed this second installment and are ready for book three.
I thought this book had a nice, tight structure. It’s a there-and-back-again story, where Aidan’s loyalties are tested to the max. This book reflects on King David’s time in Saul’s court, when Saul fell into depression and paranoia. Thankfully, Aidan doesn’t spend the length of the novel in King Darrow’s castle. Darrow sends him on a death mission—fetch a mythical flower from the depths of the Feechiefen. Darrow hopes that Aidan will fail and never return.
But, as we know, Aidan has what it takes.
He is an aspirational figure for kids to look up to. In this book, he faces the foe of disillusionment. I was happy with the moral of the story—you can’t be happy if you refuse to live in the grace you’ve been given.
There’s no reason why I should’ve liked this book, but I did!
I think portal fantasies work well for kids. You know…Narnia. But for adults, it’s hard not to make them cheesy. In this novel (which started as a podcast series) Andrew Klavan owns up to the cheese.
The main character, Austin Lively, gets unaccountably transported from contemporary Los Angeles to a medieval fantasy kingdom. The only thing that connects the two worlds is a mysterious book. I can barely type it without cringing. It sounds so bad. But Klavan miraculously handles it in such a way that it’s not cheesy after all. He writes in first-person, and Austin’s voice is so strong, so crass, so humorous, and so typical of what you’d expect from a Hollywood hack, that the authenticity of it works.
I sped through this novel not because this is my kind of book but because Klavan is a great writer. He writes legitimately good prose. He had me hooked on the unraveling mystery. I cared about the foolish protagonist and wanted him to win despite his many flaws. I became intrigued by the layers of powerful people involved and wondered what it all meant.
Overall, this story is about a young man who is underperforming in every area of life with no incentive to better himself. How do you take someone like that and transform him into a selfless man of stout heart and right belief? From what I know of Klavan, he believes this is an actual problem in society right now. How can men become men again?
This whole book is kind of a content warning. There is a lot of foul language and violence. There are some scary images, but I’m a wuss, and I did fine. There is a fade-to-black sex scene. Women are praised for being traditionally feminine. I have no problem with this because I embrace traditional gender roles, but I can see why modern tastes may find this unpalatable.
Do you have a kid who hates change? They will understand Lydia. She loves her home in Mulberry Glen, where she lives with a philosopher, a fairy, a cook, and a pair of mischievous twins (a young boy and girl). Why would she ever want to grow up and leave this safe, cozy place?
But, she must. Lydia must start an apprenticeship if she wants to become an herbologist one day. Lydia is like Jo March on the brink of going to New York.
But before Lydia is assigned an apprenticeship, something else happens that forces her to leave even earlier than expected and not on safe, predictable terms.
There is a Darkness that’s spreading from the forest of Tenebrae, and rumor has it that the only thing that can vanquish the darkness is a flower called Omni Res Mundi (Latin translation: “everything in the world”).
Lydia teams up with some colorful characters to accomplish her mission and (maybe) vanquish the Darkness for good.
There is a great discussion here about what it takes to beat back “the dark.” So many of us struggle with dark thoughts, depression, despair—and other people seem to be happy as clams, so why aren’t we? How do you stop those dark thoughts from spreading and taking over? This is a timely topic but one that’s as old as time.
This book offers an answer to this question, and I agree with the beautiful message. I hope that a lot of kids and young people take it to heart. It’s the truth.
To parents of sensitive kids: Even though this book ventures into the darkness, it isn’t dark, so approach it without fear.
As someone who isn’t familiar with Latin, I hope they include a translation page somewhere in the front or back matter.
This middle-grade fantasy feels a lot like The Giver (one of my all-time favorites). Our 12-year-old protagonist, Aster Temple, lives in a tightly controlled and enclosed community called Hargrove, where people live in fear of getting caught. Doing what? Dreaming.
In Aster’s world, having dreams is a crime that gets you banished. Aster’s dad is an inspector who arrests and banishes dreamers through the Red Door, a magical portal around which the settlement is built. And Aster is a dreamer.
There you’ve got the premise.
I loved Aster’s emotional progression over the course of the novel. She starts as a pretender—it’s how she survives. She pretends to be confident and innocent, two things she isn’t. Inside, she’s weak and ready to do anything to save herself from discovery, from banishment, and from harm. She ends the novel willing to sacrifice her own safety to help others. She discovers peace and humility.
This is a refreshing take on the super-kid trope. I didn’t get the impression that Aster reaches deep within herself to find the strength to vanquish her foe. She does it because she is thinking more about others than herself. This is one of the book’s great strengths.
There are a few things that I wish were more fleshed out: I wish the book dove deeper into why dreamers are persecuted. I wish we knew where the Red Door came from. What’s the logic behind what’s behind the Red Door? (Yes, you DO find out!)
Overall, this is a great book for the younger side of the middle-grade age spread. Kids who aren’t quite ready for The Giver.
I enjoyed this book more than The Green Ember and On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. This swampy fantasy was just as entertaining for me as it was for my 7- and 9-year-old boys. After we finished this one, they immediately asked if we could start book two in the series.
I must say this upfront. I obtained the NEW, redesigned hardbacks. They are gorgeous. The cover is lush. The interior black-line illustrations are wonderful. This new edition is worth buying in print, just FYI.
This is a middle-grade retelling of the story of King David. Aiden Errolson is the David character, and when this book opens, he’s 13 (I could be wrong). He’s the youngest son of a lord, but he spends most of his days tending sheep. He longs for adventure and greatness. But…when Aiden has greatness thrust upon him, it doesn’t look or feel as grand as he dreamed. But, as the feechies say, Aiden has what it takes.
Ultimately, this is a story about having what it takes. It’s aspirational for kids. Can they rise to the challenges that everyday life throws at them? Aiden’s example can inspire them to do so. Aiden is flawed, but he’s also heroic and worth looking up to.
This book parallels David’s early life and culminates in the defeat of a giant and the thwarting of an invading enemy. (Just in case you want to know the basic roadmap.) But, there’s a lot more here than a beat-by-beat retelling. The feechiefolk add a lot of color and humor, and I’m interested to see what role they end up playing in the trilogy.
Overall, I think this is an amazing book for young readers, and we’re already a handful of chapters into the second book and enjoying it just as much.
This book is set in a mid-century modern Great Britain. So, think cars, cigarettes, socialites, mobsters, schoolboys, and landline telephones. It’s oh-so nostalgic and gritty. The book’s cover has more of a middle-grade vibe to it, but this book falls squarely into YA.
What makes this prosaic world magical? There are two brands of magic in Kazanjian’s alternate history: Alchemy and Illata. Some people are born with an Illata, which can be anything from the ability to unlock doors to the ability to cut off someone’s air supply. You can’t control what Illata you have or if you have one at all. Alchemy is learned magic, something that non-Illata-possessors practice at school and learn from teachers, but it’s a lot more difficult to master than Hogwarts-style magic. And schools are expensive, so Alchemy tends to be the magic of the rich.
I must say that I was completely charmed by the book’s ether. I loved the seedy underlord’s domain and the corrupt upper crust and the powerless kids caught in between. It felt very much like those hard-boiled detective novels, where things could go sideways at any moment.
The plot was simple and moderately paced. It may have benefitted from a faster pace and more subplots, but I will say that the climax of the book was “big” enough to be satisfying.
I’m not sure if this book is the first in a series, but it ended on somewhat of an unfinished note, with the core cast of characters returning (sort of) back where they started with a new goal. I’d love to know if Owl’s Nest has requested a sequel for this one, because I’m here for it.
There is no romance in this book, as is commonly expected in YA, just friendship. There is no gross violence, and there may have been a cuss word here or there, but there may not have been. There is adventure-style peril that doesn’t venture into the gory or morbid.
I can honestly say that I’ve never read a fantasy world quite like this one. The planet of Lyra never experiences day. There is only night, where the moon, called Selene, provides some light, and then Darknight, a pitch-blackness that’s dominated by the Void, an evil blight that is slowly devouring Lyra.
Lyra is a moonlit planet. Think glowing mushrooms. Floating jellyfish. Foxfire dust. Barnett has dreamed up a literal “dream” world that evokes a sense of glittering night, without feeling “dark” as in evil.
Lyrians are trying to heal the Void by harvesting magical threads from human dreams. Nova, our protagonist, is a young harvester, and one day, she meets a boy in a dream who recognizes her. He shouldn’t even see or sense her presence. But he knows her name!
This is the entry point into Thread of Dreams. I will say that there’s a decently steep learning curve when it comes to this fantasy universe, but the author does a great job of sprinkling the world-building throughout the book, helping you along. But there were times when I forgot what a certain thing was…maybe a glossary for the second edition?
I loved the character dynamics. Nova has an older sister, Cally, who has taken care of her since their parents died when they were kids. The bond of sisterhood is strong with this one. There is a core group of young people who must do great deeds to help save Lyra. I don’t want to spoil anything. All I’m trying to say is that there is a nice plot-character balance here.
You’ll love this if you want a YA fantasy that includes adventure and romance but that doesn’t involve graphic violence, sex, or profanity. There IS romance here, and Nova is pretty young, just thirteen when the book starts, but she ages to sixteen (if I’m remembering right) by the end. I feel that this is a nice choice if you have a teen girl who is hankering after romantic books but you don’t want her to read anything icky.
Meet the Author, Emily Barnett Check out the interview I did with Emily over on Library Binding.
A reimagining of The Little Mermaid that’s worth finishing all the way to the end
This is a romantic YA retelling of The Little Mermaid, with a gender reversal. The first half of the book was a tad slow for me, but the second half sped nicely along.
In the original HCA story, the little mermaid is a girl, and she falls in love with a human prince. In this retelling, it’s a merman and a human princess. The author adds some backstory. There was a war between the people of the deep and the people of the land, and in order to restore peace, the people of the air imposed a “silence.” No mer-person can break the surface without perishing, and any human who plunges into the ocean risks getting pulled below and drowned.
So, how are our two kids going to fall in love? Well, the first half of the book answers that question, and the second half depicts everything in the world trying to tear them apart. Hoyle does a great job of keeping the stakes high, which is important because the plot points closely follow HCA’s, so most of us have a good guess as to what happens next. With much higher stakes and a much sweeter romance than in the original, this story is actually more entertaining.
Hoyle threw in some great plot twists in the second half that left me so glad that I finished! I was a tad under the weather when I was reading the first half, so it was hard for me to concentrate and stay awake…mostly due to congestion and fatigue, lol. But I’m glad I pushed through because I read the second half in a single night. Yee-ah.
Mr. Wonka and Charlie meet aliens and fool with vitamins
Regrettably, my boys wanted to read this after having so much fun with the first installment. This book, however, got tiresome fast. My two little boys thought it was fantastic, but I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
There isn’t much here except cheap laughs. The book reads like two separate short stories. You’ve got the first part of the book, which takes place in outer space, and the second part, where three of Charlie’s grandparents take Wonka vitamins, which make them grow younger and then older by turns.
The book portrays adults behaving like idiots. The President of the U.S. and everyone in the White House are lunatics (and so politically incorrect that even I was cringing, and I love when things are politically incorrect). The astronauts aren’t the brightest bulbs, either. And Charlie’s grandparents act like the worst kind of selfish children.
Chocolate Factory had a sense of cohesion, with each spoiled child getting what was coming to them…we know this is how it’ll play out, and it’s satisfying to see, in a sense, because we know it’s the point. But this book feels so disjointed, like there’s nothing holding it together as a connected narrative. There are no character arcs. Very few lessons learned.
It’s slapstick but has few redeeming qualities. I think you can skip it for sure.
Content warnings: If you can’t roll with stereotypes, then don’t read this.
A message of courage for kids who are too scared to reach for their dreams
What an incredible accomplishment for a teen author! This sweet story explores what it means to have hope when hope feels unrealistic and risky. The plot did not take the turns I expected, and what started as historical middle-grade took a turn into fantasyland.
Ashton Harper loves to dance. He secretly harbors hopes of attending a prestigious school of dance. But there’s no way he’ll get in, so why try? Why care?
Ashton and his two sisters DO get a shot at auditioning for the school…will they take it? The story follows Ashton as he figures out what he really wants from life, what’s truly important, and how to let go of his fears and insecurities.
This book is perfect for young readers who love the Regency era but want to read middle-grade (not adult romance, which tends to dominate).
How did Santa Claus get to be Santa Claus? Here’s a cute origin story for ya.
This was pure fun. It’s an origin story for Santa Claus, as imagined by Matt Haig, author of The Midnight Library. There’s nothing about Jesus or the reality of Christmas—just the North Pole characters associated with the secular winter holidays. Despite lacking any faith element, it’s a cute, heartwarming story that reinforces the value of life, looking on the bright side, and finding joy in giving to others.
My kids know that Santa isn’t real. Every year, we read Gail Gibbons’s book “Santa Who?” because it discusses all of the different traditions and legends that have contributed to who Santa has become, starting with Jesus Christ, then moving to Saint Nicholas, and then beyond. We treat Santa as a character more than anything—like the Grinch or Scrooge. We visit Santa at the annual Christmas tree lighting. We lay out cookies and milk. I don’t want to deprive them of any childhood magic. But I’m not going to lie and tell them he’s real when he’s not. So, this book provided some Santa fun, and I felt that it helps to reinforce him as a fictional character vs. a reality.
We listened to the audiobook narrated by Stephen Fry, and it was adorable. He reads like Jim Dale, doing all the voices.
Content warnings: Nicholas is mistreated and betrayed, but there is nothing troublingly graphic here. I also want to emphasize that this book is secular and unconnected to any other Santa myths that I know of. There is no mention of religion of any kind, not even St. Nicholas.
Deep in the Russian mountains, two peasants discover a magical realm. But will this power bring good fortune or bad?
This book hit the spot. I loved it, and I thought it was even better than The Arrow and the Crown. The dual protagonists were lovable. The villains were mysterious and not made of cardboard. I also loved the supporting cast.
This book is based on a fairy tale that I’m not familiar with, so, for me, it read like a story set in a fairy tale world. It didn’t feel strange or contrived in any way, which sometimes happens with a retelling when you aren’t familiar with the source. You don’t NEED to know the source story to enjoy this one.
This is a sweet romance, too! Perfect for teens who want clean, mature romance. No spice, just heart.
I’m very much looking forward to Emma C. Fox’s next book!
Can your kids crack the case of who killed the Goblin King?
What a fun concept! The Goblin king has been poisoned, and 26 suspects are called to defend their innocence. Three are guilty of murder, but which three? The answer is encoded into the book.
One goblin for each letter of the alphabet. One short poem per goblin. One simple code to crack. This is a fun, interactive book for kids.
My 8-year-old had fun decrypting the code and solving the case. But I think he had more fun pouring over the illustrations of each goblin, which are so expressive and flawlessly executed, even though they’re presented as “courtroom sketches” and, as such, are done in rough, sketchy form. They’re so funny and original.
The code is easy to crack, so that will appeal to younger kids, but the poetry is advanced, which will appeal to older kids. It would be fun to use this book as part of a poetry exploration for our homeschool—using the author’s concept to write original short-form poetry with a mystery embedded.
Don’t confuse this with Walter Tevis’s chess novel. It’s completely different.
I adored The Q, so I’m making Beth Brower’s books a priority. This one is far less complex (and much shorter) than The Q, but it’s still a worthy read, especially if you love character-driven royal dramas with lots of politics.
The bountiful land of Aemogen is a self-contained country that has little to do with the surrounding nations. When Imirillia, a battle-hardened nation to the north, declares war on the soft Aemogen people, the queen, Eleanor, must figure out how to ready her peaceful farmers for war against a foe that is more numerous and skilled than they can ever hope to be. It’s like The Shire vs. Mordor.
She finds unexpected help when Wil Traveler, a wandering soldier, arrives at court. Asking him to train her troops is a gamble, but she takes the risk.
This book moved slowly, without too much high action. This first installment in the series is more about establishing character dynamics, which, I’m sure set the stage for the second and third books. The characters are good—flawed and riddled with issues. There is also a lot of worldbuilding to clue us in on the traditions and ethos of the two warring nations. I think this is important to know going in.
There’s also a slow-burn romance that is not cheesy. Executing a romantic subplot without cheese on top is no small feat, but I love the way Beth Brower approaches it. You can hand this to any teenager without fear. It’s clean as a whistle without feeling sanitized.
This book doesn’t provide a ton of closure at the end. It doesn’t completely satisfy as a standalone book. The external plot wraps up, but the internal plot is just getting started, so you do feel compelled to read the next book. That’s also important to know going in.
I’m notorious for reading the first book in a series and never continuing. But, I might just keep going with this YA medieval adventure!
An unlikely crew of young people must save the land from an evil sorcerer
The setting for this story is really refreshing. I haven’t read anything with quite this mix. Here, in the first book in the series, we start in a seaside industrial town. Then, we’re on the road with a circus. Then, we’re in a dark, fantastical wood. Then the open sea. It’s not typical medieval times in Hibaria.
I enjoyed Cora as a heroine, but I think I liked Will more. He was much spunkier, and Victoria was a tortured soul. But Cora makes sense as the protagonist because she has the most growing to do.
I know that authors sometimes fear dumping too much worldbuilding on the reader, but, because Hibaria has such a unique mythos, I kept forgetting certain aspects that popped up later, such as the role of the constellations and Augrind’s backstory.
Even though this is the first book in the series, and it ends with setup for the next book, there was good closure here. No cliffhangers, just a few twists.
I think that kids around 12 and up would enjoy this, and the morals are sterling.
An unskilled young boy is forced into a quest where he must face menacing, magical foes
My 7- and 8-year-old boys REALLY enjoyed this. This is the first book in a fantasy series in the tradition of LOTR (the parallels are unmistakable). So, it would be a fun series for kids who aren’t quite ready for Lord of the Rings yet—or, on the other side of the coin, kids who have read LOTR (bless them) and want something that feels similar.
This book is a rescue/quest. Taran, our preteen hero, has just one job: keep the magical pig in her pen. But, when an evil warrior and his minions ride into the vicinity, the pig runs for her life, and Taran runs after her.
The story starts quickly and there’s swift pacing throughout. By chapter two, we see Taran plunge into the forbidden woods after the pig. From there, he meets many friends and foes. He’s tested and transformed. It’s got everything you want in a medieval adventure.
The reason why I gave it four instead of five stars is because the climax was a bit soft, and the ending abrupt. This is the first book in a series, so, hey, there’s more! But as a book in its own right, the ending was a bit wah-wah.
Content warnings: There are the normal swordfights and battles that you’d expect in a book like this. The description of the Horned King (pictured on the cover) may be a little much for sensitive kids. There is one quick mention of the bad guys making human sacrifices (gross). And one of the female foes has a particularly wicked interaction with our main characters…but it’s easily self-censored if you’ve got littler kids listening.
By now, I know what to expect from Kate DiCamillo when it comes to a book like this. The Puppets of Spelhorst felt a lot like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. It’s about a collection of puppets, and things happen to them, and they are changed. Very similar to Edward Tulane, who is a toy that things happen to, and he is changed.
It’s got big-time Velveteen Rabbit vibes, let’s just say that.
This book is charming, and like DiCamillo’s other books, the scope is intimate, but the themes are big. Although the puppets are inanimate, they have an inner life in which they think and communicate with one another (but they can’t move around or speak aloud like in Toy Story).
The big theme revolves around stories and their power. What is a puppet made for if not to tell a story? But the puppets don’t know who they are or what their story is.
All of the puppets start out by defining themselves in terms of what they have (a crown, sharp teeth, real feathers, etc.). But each puppet has a desire for something more (to have a real experience of some kind), and this desire is achieved in a small way by the end of the book. Of course, this led me to ask myself to what degree are we all puppetlike creatures who exist to play a part in a much larger story that we can’t control?
This book uses repetition like the Mercy Watson / Deckawoo Drive books do, and I can see why this might distract or exasperate some readers, but, for me, it slows me down and makes it crystal clear what the author wants me to pay attention to.
I read this book to myself in about an hour. I’m wondering if my boys will enjoy it, too, or if it’ll fly over their heads and leave them wondering what it was all about.
A cup-loving small-island girl is forced out of her comfort zone to rescue her true love in a fantasy world where pirates roam the spore seas
Brandon Sanderson wrote this book for his wife, Emily, and he wrote it in secret, without telling a soul except her. He wanted to write something that would entertain and delight her. In his Postscript, he said he wanted to write something free from business constraints and fan expectations. His goal? A fairy-tale-adjacent story that appeals to adults. Something with a similar feel to The Princess Bride and Good Omens.
The result? Pure FUN. As I was reading, I could feel how much fun he was having. The book feels light and effortless, even though it ventures into grave danger and looks into the face of evil. Like Bride, it’s making fun of itself slightly. Like Bride, it doesn’t feel dark. In fact, it’s downright optimistic.
If modern writers can draw any conclusions from Sanderson’s experiment, it seems to me that writing free of business and fan pressures is a great place to start. Sometimes, when I’m reading a book, I can sense the social and political stress that the author was feeling—make sure you check these boxes…definitely can’t say X, Y or Z…just go ahead and sanitize the book of any real meaning, but fill it with messages that have been approved by the culture at large. Kay?
Those books confuse me. But books like this ring clear as a bell. And I absolutely adored Hoid’s narrative voice, and, can I just say, Sanderson is a genius to include a world-hopping character like this in all his books. Talk about giving your fans something to discuss forever and ever amen.
Content warnings: There are the usual things you’d expect with a swashbuckling rescue story, such as death, fights, and such. But there is nothing overly graphic. Very few curses (if any) and no sex.
What would happen to a fairy tale princess if she were simply ordinary?
This book came with my homeschool curriculum. I didn’t think my 7- and 8-year-old boys would be interested, so I swapped this one with The Secret Garden, which they loved. That didn’t stop me from reading this tiny book for myself, though.
My copy came with a preface by the author, and I’m glad I didn’t skip it. She says that after going on a fairy-tale-reading-spree, she realized that most of the princesses fit a certain model—beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, and graceful. This is only to be expected in fairy tales, right? But, the author, like so many before and after her, wondered how the story might change if the princess in question were ordinary. She said that she sat under a tree and wrote the whole thing by hand in one sitting.
This book isn’t exactly a retelling of any single tale (that I can think of). It nods mightily to Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, but it’s not a spinoff. It stars Amy, the seventh and youngest daughter of a noble kingdom, and she’s cursed with ordinariness.
Because she’s nothing special to look at, the king and queen can’t marry her off. Amy becomes so weary of the endless string of suitors who arrive, take one look at her, and then awkwardly contrive early departures. So, she must figure something out—and that something is her future.
The curse turns into a blessing. Amy learns the virtues of independent thought, hard work, and healthy physical exertion out of doors, all of which (come to think of it) line up neatly with The Secret Garden.
This book is short and takes a tongue-in-cheek approach to fairy tales, mildly mocking them. It reminds me of About the Sleeping Beauty by P. L. Travers. It’s long been fashionable to recast these timeless tales to suit modern tastes, pointing out how sexist and violent the originals are, and aren’t we much better in this day and age? But, we’re not better, and it does no good to scoff at folklore, myth, and fairy tales. But it’s okay to look at them and wonder why. Wonder how and if. What else are they for if not that?
By Soyoung Park Translated by Joungmin Lee Comfort
Character
Plot & Pacing
Writing Craft
Moral Value
Another YA dystopia—is it worthy?
I think that, like most YA dystopias, you’ll either love this or hate it.
Years from now, the world is frozen, and everyone works in power plants to provide the population with the electricity required to sustain life. Everyone works for the power plants, except residents of Snowglobe, a ritzy community sheltered from sub-zero temps by a dome. How can you become one of the chosen few who get to live there? By agreeing to act on TV. Your life is recorded and made into a TV show for the world to see.
If you worked day in and day out at a power plant (riding a bicycle to produce energy) and you got the chance to become a Snowglobe actor, would you take it?
That’s basically what happens to Chobahm, our teenage girl protagonist. But the catch? She’s asked to take the place of a megastar who died. She looks nearly identical to an actress named Goh Haeri, who has achieved Taylor Swift-level fame in Snowglobe. If Chobahm agrees, then her family will receive extra compensation, and she may even get a shot at attaining her lifelong dream of getting accepted to Snowglobe’s famed film school to become a director.
It’s a Faustian bargain with all the teenage trappings that make this book appealing to its target audience. It checks all the boxes for what I hoped to see—mystery, twists, and action.
I did feel like the book could’ve been tighter. I really enjoyed it, but the first and second half were a bit disjointed, with characters from the first half who faded into the background to make way for new characters who took the stage in the second half. I listened on audio, which was a lifesaver for name pronunciation, but I confess that I did have a hard time keeping the characters straight.
Overall, this was a solid YA read, and it was interesting to read this genre set in what I assume is a futuristic South Korea, but I’m not sure I’ll come back for book 2.
Content Warnings (with spoilers): Here are some things that you may want to know before handing this to your teen (or reading it yourself). There is discussion of cloning and its moral implications. There are scenes of violence, but nothing gory or over the top. One character is revealed to be in a same-sex relationship with another character, but this isn’t central to the plot and (I think) becomes more central in the sequel. There are some whiffs of romance for the protagonist, Chobahm, but nothing graphic and no sex scenes.
Everyone’s favorite assistant pig-keeper is off on another adventure, but this one will test him to the core.
Dilemmas. That’s why this book is so good. The characters are faced with one impossible choice after another until the very last chapter. My boys and I really enjoyed this second installment in the Prydain Chronicles.
The evil Arwan is gaining power. To stop him, Gwydion gathers a crew of loyal Prydainians to sneak into his fortress and steal the black cauldron—the wicked pot he uses to create undead warriors for his army. Naturally, everything goes wrong, and Taran must learn what it means to make hard choices—all by himself.
This book was better than the first one, and I think it’s worth reading the first book in order to experience this sequel more richly.
This is HIGH fantasy in the same vein as Tolkien. It’s hard to miss the parallels between LOTR and these books. But, these books are much shorter and accessible to a younger audience. My 7- and 8-year-olds wouldn’t be able to read them solo, but they can understand them perfectly well when I read aloud (and clarify some of the high-brow vocab). The books are written in a lofty, grand tone.
Again, this book was great because of the series of difficult choices that the characters faced. I felt like the plot was tight and economical. Overall, YES.
Content warnings: Nothing overly concerning. Several characters die, and one must sacrifice him/herself in one scenario.
After hearing Sarah MacKenzie from Read-Aloud Revival (I love her) interview the author, I was ready and rearin’ to love this book, and maybe my expectations were too high. I liked it but did not love it. Now, I do love the premise: There are portals to other worlds. They exist, just like in fairy tales. All we have to do is find them. That’s a common childhood fantasy, right? But the execution felt a tad off for me.
The protagonist is young Eva, an American who travels with her mom to visit her Grandmother in England for the first time ever. Soon, she realizes that her regal Grandmother was once a queen in fairyland.
Positives: Complex female relationships—whoooo-wheeee. Women. We can be weird. We don’t always treat each other right, and this book is packed with strong females who all seem to have fraught relationships with one another. This didn’t detract from the book at all and was one of the highlights for me.
Negatives: The writing wasn’t as immersive as I’d hoped. The pacing of the plot did drag a bit for me. I found myself wondering more than once, “Where is this going?” Eva was always finding clues and making little discoveries, but they all seemed a tad disjointed. I couldn’t see how the story was building to any sort of climax. The chapter-ending Ternival tales (fictional excerpts from a book of fairy tales) were a little hard to follow. It was a lot of new information to keep track of.
Thank you to NetGalley and WaterBrook for an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.
Content warnings: I wouldn’t hesitate to let any teenager read this. There’s nothing graphically scary or violent, and there is a sweet romance but it’s very much a side note until the end, and even then, there’s just a hint.
