Even cake addicts need a cookie once in a while

As a round 1 panelist for the Cybils category middle-grade science fiction and fantasy, I have my work cut out for me - for a complete list of the nominated titles we are reading, see Sheila Ruth's Wands and Worlds post. Whew! It's a good thing I like this genre so much.

But I must admit that I do sneak away once in a while and read a grown-up mystery or a YA SF title or a middle-grade nonfiction book. Variety is the spice of life.

And I have learned from painful experience that not all these nominated titles are exactly up to snuff. So - stay tuned for our shortlist of truly excellent middle-grade science fiction and fantasy titles, arriving on January 1st, just in time for you to start making good on your New Year's Resolution to keep up with your reading!

Review of Bad News for Outlaws by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson

Nelson, Vaunda Micheaux. Bad News for Outlaws: The Remarkable Life of Bass Reeves, Deputy U.S. Marshal. Illustrated by R. Gregory Christie. Carolrhoda Books, 2009.

This book stood out, quite literally, from a big cart of children's books I was annotating for an upcoming order sheet. At least an inch taller than the tallest picture book, the spine is white with one black slash near the top. The words "Bad News" are set in bold white against that black background with the rest of the title "for Outlaws" is set in black against white. Pulling out the book, I saw that the black stripe on the spine is the brim of the hat worn by Bass Reeves, whose large portrait cannot be contained on the cover. He stares out at us from under the dark brim of his hat solemnly but with a touch of humor and warmth, the whites of his eyes matching his starched collar. I was immediately smitten.

As the size of the book and his portrait suggest, Bass Reeves was larger than life. Born into slavery in 1838, he escaped from his owner during the Civil War and headed off for Indian Territory, where he lived with and was sheltered by Indians. After the war, he bought a farm, married, and "true to the song of his life, Bass had a big family" - 11 children. In 1875, Bass was hired by Judge Parker to track down outlaws as a deputy U.S. marshal - and because he was smart, honorable, a crack shot, and knew his territory like the back of his hand, he became one of the most valuable of the 200 marshals patrolling 74,000 square miles of what would later be Oklahoma.

The tales of his adventures and exploits read like tall tales, but apparently they are all true. To catch his quota of outlaws, he wore disguises, planned elaborate hoaxes, and in general used any trick possible to bring back in the bad guys - or bad ladies, as the case might be. Belle Starr, the bandit queen, turned herself in to Bass Reeves when she found out he had her warrant. After 32 years and more than 3000 arrests, Oklahoma became a state and Bass Reeves lost his job - so at the age of nearly 70, he become a police officer in Muskogee, OK and worked until he died several years later.

Both the text and the illustrations are captivating, creating a vivid portrait of a man who seems to rank right up there with Paul Bunyan and John Henry. The book opens with the capture of outlaw Jim Webb - "Jim Webb's luck was running muddy when Bass Reeves rode into town" - blasting us right into the action as Bass Reeves chases Webb down. This simple, colloquial language, glinting with just enough Western slang and lilt to make reading it aloud a joy, continues throughout the book. An example:

"Even horses played a part in his disguises. Like many U.S. marshals, Bass rode some of the finest. Most times, he forked a handsome sorrel. Bass rode proud in the saddle. There was no mistaking his silhouette. But prize horseflesh could be a dead giveaway that the rider was a lawman. Bass always kept some rough stock and rode lazy while undercover."

Don't know what "forked" means? Check out the glossary of Western words at the back, and while you're there, be sure to read the timeline (which includes Bass Reeves' induction into the Hall of Great Westerners of the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City in 1992), the list of further reading and websites, a bit of fascinating information about Judge Parker and the Indian Territory, and best of all, a fine bibliography of books, articles, and manuscripts about Bass Reeves.

I've been a big Christie fan for years - his art is always powerful, whether depicting young Bass feeding a horse at dusk or an anguished but stern Bass turning in his own son after he had committed murder. Full-page spreads offer dramatic scenes, often outdoors, while smaller paintings show us smaller moments like that of Bass trying to talk sense into captured outlaws ("Getting through to them was like trying to find hair on a frog, butg Bass kept trying"). The text is often set on yellow-gold paper that looks creased and stained with brown, bringing to mind the travel-worn warrants that Bass must have kept in his saddlebags or folded into an inside pocket of his jacket. The endpapers depict Bass's United States Deputy Marshal star against this background.

This is altogether a marvelously entertaining and thought-provoking portrait of a little-known Western hero. The bold and action-packed illustrations will pull kids in and the rollicking text will grab hold and keep them hooked until the end. Don't let this sit on your shelves - display it and talk it up to kids, parents, and teachers.

Highly recommended for ages 8 and up.

Review of Darkwood by M.E. Breen

Breen, M.E. Darkwood. Bloomsbury, 2009.

In Howland, the moon has not been seen in seven centuries, and when the day is over, night slams down over the land without the grace of a sunset or dusk. Why this is remains a mystery throughout this dark and atmospheric fantasy, although we gain an idea of what vile creature is responsible for this black and dangerous night.

In the night, hungry animals prowl - the "kinderstalk," who are held responsible for the disappearance, one by one, of many of the children in Dour County. But when young Annie tries to run away after learning that her uncle is selling her to the mines, she learns the fate of most of these children. And when she goes to tell the King of the evil mining foreman Gibbet and his deeds, the plot thickens - the kinderstalk, who have a complex society of their own, turn out to be major players in the events that are quickly coming to a climax in Howland, and Annie is irrevocably connected to these creatures.

This plot ebbs and flows, driven by the cruelty of greedy men, strange and joyous revelations, and moments of comfort and affection. Exotic details like the sudden night, Annie's inexplicable ability to see in the dark, and her sister's apparently complicated relationship with the King kept me eagerly turning the pages, even when the plot skittered and jolted. The geography of Howland eluded me - I couldn't understand the distances involved between one point and another or where various landmarks were located in relation to each other. This became a bit problematic during a crucial scene when men and wolves and Annie were all racing toward a climactic meeting point - I had absolutely no sense of what was going on and so had to trust that Annie knew what she was doing. Unfortunately, some of her actions and decisions don't make sense; again, the reader has to suspend belief and go with the flow in order to enjoy the story, rather than ask questions like "why, oh why isn't Annie telling those kind sisters Serena and Beatrice about her travails at the mine?"

The prose is mostly straightforward and even plain, rather a comfort in a story whose few good and normal people are surrounded unknowingly by sinister forces and shuttered in each night by the most impenetrable of scary darkness. The ending, both satisfying and horrifying, leaves the reader with a handful of rather urgent unanswered questions, meaning that there will surely be a sequel.

Recommended for fans of the type of atmospheric fantasy that only slowly reveals its secrets. Ages 11 to 14.

Reading is alive and well

There is an interesting piece on "The Future of Reading" by Tom Peters in the Nov. 1 issue of Library Journal.

He discusses various types of reading and readers, emerging formats, and much more. The last couple paragraphs:

Reports of the death of reading are premature. Readers are resilient and inventive. What worries me is not so much that reading will become an attenuated, marginalized field of practice but that the developmental paths of librarianship and reading will diverge in the 21st century. We may wander off from our power base, or it will evolve away from us.
Librarians should encourage—nay, aid and abet—experimentation in reading. We need to cleave to the needs and wants of readers. We must continue to study their reading habits, then design and redesign our content collections, systems, and services to help them improve and maximize their reading experiences. We are in a long-term commitment with readers. We need to be vocal, flexible, and patient as the longstanding relationship between readers and the libraries that serve them continues to evolve.

Right on!

Recharging one's professional soul

I haven't been to an ALA conference since Anaheim 2008 and was going through major Conference Withdrawal, so I decided it was high time I attended my state conference - it's been quite a few years since my last one. The California Library Association held its conference in Pasadena last weekend, and although it was of course very slim compared to ALA, there were plenty of thought-provoking programs.

The best thing about conferences is that I never know what nuggets of inspiration I'll take away from them. During a program on San Diego Public Library's online homework services, that system's collaboration with local schools spurred me to fill my notepad with thoughts on how my own system could improve our outreach and partnership with schools. A program on effective training programs brought home the fact that our system, as a whole, has no training program or budget - is there anything I can do to bring about some needed improvement in this area? A program on El dia de los ninos/El dia de los libros, and especially how it is celebrated in California, made me realize what a perfect match this would be for Los Angeles libraries. And two programs on self-evaluation and assessment reinforced my belief in the urgent need to build evaluation (probably in the form of outcome measurements) into every program and service we offer.

The last program I attended was called 21 Ideas for 21st Century Libraries, offered by a husband-and-wife consulting team. Kim Bolan Cullin, as a trained librarian, understands both the traditions and needs of libraries and their communities and from there makes inspiring leaps into what libraries could and should become. Some ideas are obvious, some are happening now, and some are deliciously full of potential. In her blog The Indie Librarian, Kim presents these ideas and more. I particularly like idea #3 - "multi-functional, zoned children's spaces" and #16 - "the demise of big service desks." And #12 - "people policies" which favors putting the customer first rather than arbitrarily making rules that focus on the word NO - is long overdue.

I won't be attending ALA midwinter (I'm not on a committee, darn it!), but PLA's conference in March 2010 should be amazing, and I'll be there with an open and eager mind.

What if I started a blog and nobody came?

When I was working as a children's librarian in various branches, I had a recurring anxiety dream that the children's area was filling up with children and their families, eager for a storytime that I had totally neglected to prepare for. As they watched, I started frantically searching for books, while minutes and even hours went by and my audience became more and more restless and dissatisfied.

In real life, this wouldn't happen (not only would I be able to gather books together in seconds, but I, like all children's librarians, know enough participation stories, songs, rhymes, and fingerplays to present a storytime without any books at all) - but in anxiety dreams, nothing goes well.

After reading Betsy Bird's enjoyable SLJ article on kidlit blogging yesterday, I had a dream last night that I arrived late to a Kidlit Blogger's Potluck Meeting. Not only was all the food gone, including Monica Edinger's famous cream puffs, but everyone looked askance at the odd rice concoction I brought and only Betsy very kindly and politely tasted it.

Rats - and I thought I had cultivated a very comfortable devil-may-care attitude about this whole blogging thing!

Review of Fortune's Magic Farm by Suzanne Selfors

Selfors, Suzanne. Fortune's Magic Farm. Little, Brown, 2009.


Ten-year-old Isabelle's "grandma," who unofficially adopted her after Isabelle was left on the doorstep as an infant, insists that there was a time when the sun shone in Runny Cove and folks were happy - but Isabelle has only known constant rain and a grueling life toiling away in Mr. Supreme's Umbrella Factory. In fact, that's the way life is for almost everyone in Runny Cove, where all hair is colorless, all skin is pruny with moisture, and slugs are the happiest creatures around. However, one day an elephant seal delivers a magic apple to Isabelle, and soon she has escaped with a mysterious, if slightly cranky, lad named Sage to the hidden land where her family tends a farm that grows magic. Not only does Isabelle blossom (almost literally) in the sunny splendor of Fortune's Farm, but she is able to use her new gifts and resources to bring much-needed aid to the good people of Runny Cove.

This fantasy draws a bit from Dickens (the nasty boarding house, the dreary factory, the poor orphans) and a bit from Dahl (over-the-top mean grown-ups, plucky kids with a specialness to them), but the overall effect is lighter and fluffier -perhaps it's because Isabelle's sunny nature is absolutely undeterred by her grim situation or maybe it's the eccentric folks and creatures (especially a slightly deaf elephant seal and a rock-throwing marmot) whom she meets. I was reminded of The Outlandish Adventures of Liberty Aimes by Kelly Easton, which has a bit of the same sweet, slightly fey quality to it despite the mistreatment of the heroine by ludicrously despicable adults.

The nature of the magic on Fortune's Farm, and especially its use and limitations, remains rather vague, and the happy ending (the transformation of Runny Cove into Sunny Cove) is too pat and hurried to be very satisfying, especially the marriage that occurs in the blink of an eye. One other quibble is the cover art, which depicts Isabelle not with gray hair (as she has in Runny Cove) or green hair (as she has in Fortune's Farm), but with brown hair. As someone who tends to scrutinize cover art (and I'm sure I'm not alone in this), I find such blatant inattention to details irritating. The inside illustrations, drawn by a different artist - Catia Chien - have much more eccentric charm.

All in all, this is a cheerful and fast-moving fantasy with just the right amount of whimsy. Recommended for ages 8 to 10.