Tween Books with Girl Characters - 4 Hearty Endorsements

Notice how I most definitely did not call this a list of Girl Books! There's been some great stuff in the blogosphere about the dangers of typecasting books and readers by gender, and I agree wholeheartedly.


That said, these will be easier sells to tween girls than to boys - just look at the dang covers!




Which brings us to Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls Book 1: Moving Day by Meg Cabot (Scholastic 2008). 9-year-old Allie's dilemma is one with which not all readers will sympathize (or at least not this reader, living as she does in a small, bland, mid-century house) - her family is moving from the suburbs to an old, three-story house in a more urban area. "12-foot-ceilings!" her mother gushes, but Allie is convinced the house is haunted by a disembodied zombie hand - it's just plain creepy. Leaving her friends and school behind is also not a happy prospect, even though her supposed best friend is less than ideal and her new school and neighbors seem great, so (in a dorky and predictable bit of plotting) Allie tries to sabotage the move. Doesn't work, naturally, and the reader will be glad, for Allie's next-door neighbor Erica is just her age and understands the important social niceties; when Allie tells her she'll be attending Erica's school, Erica "let out a polite scream to show she was excited..." Their following conversation leads to one of Allie's rules - "If someone is yelling from excitement, the polite thing to do is yell back." Allie has many more rules for living, and they're all conveniently listed in the back of the book. My only beef with this book is that the girl on the cover looks about 7 years old.




9-year-old Julia Gillian also keeps a list - a list of accomplishments. In Julia Gillian (and the Art of Knowledge) by Alison McGhee (Scholastic, 2008), Julia Gillian spends a lot of time wandering around a 9-square-block area of Uptown Minneapolis with her large and extremely lovable dog Bigfoot. What else can she do? It's summer and her parents, both teachers, are trying to complete their master's degrees and thus spend all day indoors, surrounded by heaps of books. So Julia walks with Bigfoot and visits with assorted folks in her neighborhood - oh, and her Problem (because every main character must have one) is that she is scared to read a certain green book because there is an old dog in it that she is quite certain will die. So - not much thrill and action in this book, but huge amounts of quirkiness and charm. Julia wears her home-made raccoon mask (one of her accomplishments) in public, has a tendency to use mannered phrases like "indeed I do," and in general shows every sign of being the kind of geeky, odd child that is close to my heart. A certain 9-year-old niece of mine who happens to live in this very neighborhood will recognize many of the local restaurants and landmarks lovingly mentioned, and all readers will fall in love with Bigfoot the Dog. This is the first book by Alison McGhee, and hopefully there will be many more to come.



In A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (Harcourt, 2007), 10-year-old Zoe yearns to learn to play the piano, but instead is given a Perfectone D-60 organ with "luxuriously realistic walnut veneer!" and "ultra-gold speaker covers, now in fashion weaves!" - in other words, the dorkiest of instruments. Dodgedly, Zoe takes lessons and eventually masters her chosen piece ('Forever in Blue Jeans' by Neil Diamond) to play at the Perform-O-Rama (which is to organists what a recital is to pianists). The short chapters, Zoe's put-upon but hopeful tone, and her imperfect parents (her Mom loves her busy job and is thus somewhat distracted; her dad is agoraphobic and mostly stays at home and takes such mail-order classes as Patty Cake, Patty Cake: Make Some Cash) are some of the things I like about this book. There are Friend Issues, too, and they are realistic, poignant - and funny as hell. Another first author - woo!



And now for something completely different - Chris Riddell's Ottoline and the Yellow Cat (HarperCollins, 2007). Young Ottoline (who is perhaps 7? 8? Not that it makes the slightest difference in this particular tale) lives alone in an apartment, watched over by her friend and companion Mr. Munroe, while her parents gallivant around the world. No, this is nothing like Eloise. Although as richly and humorously illustated as the Eloise books, the similarities end there. Mr. Munroe is a small, mysterious bog creature from Norway who very reluctantly lets Ottoline brush his long and abundant hair when she needs comfort - they have a wonderfully sweet and understanding friendship. Together they solve a crime involving a cat burglar, rich ladies, and numerous lap dogs, and more adventures are in the works. A certain 13-year-old I know with sophisticated reading tastes found this book entrancing, and I think fanatic AND reluctant readers of both genders would love it as well. Truly odd and truly wonderful.

Trouble by Gary D. Schmidt

Well, I’m torn. I thought I’d never love a literary dog more than the clever and stalwart Cracker in Cracker! The Best Dog in Vietnam by Cynthia Kadohata (Atheneum 2007), but now there is Black Dog. Her head-cocking, belly-exposing, tail-wagging, grinning presence makes her one of the main characters in Trouble, and one of the best reasons to read the book.

Oh yeah, and there’s Henry, a 14-year-old from an old-money Massachusetts family, whose older brother Franklin (a sports hero but otherwise not a stellar individual) is hit while jogging by a pick-up truck. Inside the truck is Chay Chuan, a teen from Cambodia. Although the accident was clearly just that, the rift between the whites (both rich/entitled and blue-collar/blame-their-woes-on-immigrants) and the recent Cambodian immigrants widens precipitously. Franklin loses his arm and then much more, sister Louisa and both parents are almost house-bound with shock and sorrow, and Henry – he decides to hike up Mt. Katahdin in Maine, as he had always wanted to do with Franklin.

While the first half of the book deals with the family’s and community’s various reactions (mostly negative) to the situation, and does so in a measured and masterful way, the second half gets a little out of control. Henry and his buddy Sanborn (a laconic guy with a dry sense of humor whose dorky exchanges and tussles with Henry keep things real throughout the book) find themselves headed north in Chay’s pick-up (he’s running away) and suddenly there are encounters with evil, prejudiced fishermen, escapes down one-way streets, accidental participation in a classic car parade, Black Dog running happily amok after a balloon and tossing members of a marching band like bowling pins, a rather symbolic shipwreck, and even a shooting. Like that sentence, the second half goes on too long and is too filled with unlikely events.

Schmidt ties things up satisfactorily at the end, and Henry comes to terms with his intense and contradictory feelings about Franklin, Chay, his family, and his life in a way that is believable and moving.

For teens ages 12 and up.

The audiobook version is narrated by Jason Culp. His Massachusetts and Maine accents may or may not be authentic but they sure added to my enjoyment of this New England tale.

The Dragonfly Pool by Eva Ibbotson

Ibbotson, Eva. The Dragonfly Pool. Dutton, 2008

Available September 4.

11-year-old Tally has received a scholarship to attend free-spirited Delderton Hall, an “experimental” boarding school in Devon, and though she doesn’t want to leave her loving father, London in 1939 is not a very secure place to be. As it turns out, she thrives there (clothing and classes are optional and the dance instructor exhorts the students to be forks or pillows - sounds a bit like my younger daughter's Waldorf-influenced school. Except for the first two items.).

When the (fictional) country of Bergania, whose king has refused to let Hitler’s armies march through his land, announces an international children’s folk-dancing festival, Tally convinces her school to take part. During the festival, the king is assassinated, and Tally and her friends and teachers rescue 12-year-old Prince Karil and smuggle him to England, where he must live virtually imprisoned by his well-born relatives, until he manages to escape and is united with his Delderton Hall friends again.

Tally has a bit of Sara Crewe of A Little Princess about her; although her father is still alive, she is a singularly compassionate and generous person, well-liked by almost all who meet her; luckily, her worries and occasional imperfections make her wisdom lovely rather than irritating. Prince Karil and several adults receive meticulous and fascinating character development, but many characters remain rather one-dimensional, known mainly by one or two eccentric traits (a girl with allergies, a boy from Africa). The unsympathetic characters, and in particular Karil’s awful London-based relatives, come across as ludicrous cartoons, so unremittingly negative is their depiction.

Although the battle between good and evil is painted with a broad brush, Ibbotson treats most issues with a wise, subtle, and always humorous touch; as always, her writing is sublime and her tone is impeccable. The epilogue, taking place six years later, is most satisfying and will have readers giggling through their tears. The epitaph of a tiny dog (and pivotal character) on the last page is both ridiculous and hilarious - and it ensures that any lingering feelings that this book had too earnest a tone at times are swept away.

Approximately grades 4 to 7.

The Serpent's Tale by Ariana Franklin

Those who read last year’s Mistress of the Art of Death, a forensic mystery set in 12th century Cambridge, England, will not be disappointed by this second installment in the series. These books are so much more than mere historical mysteries, which often contain jarring dialogue and anachronistic details. Our heroine is Vesuvia Adelia Rachel Ortese Aguilar (Adelia for short, thank goodness), raised by a Christian and a Jew in southern Italy and educated by Muslims to be a doctor – more specifically, to be a forensic pathologist.

Having been summoned by Henry II to England to solve some particularly ghastly child murders in Book 1, she has been commanded to stay in England in case he should need her, and need her he does – when his beloved mistress Rosamund Clifford is poisoned, Adelia must not only find the murderer but also prove that it was not Queen Eleanor – for if it was, another civil war might rip England apart.

Accompanied not only by her faithful companions Mansur (a Muslim who accompanied her from Italy) and plain-spoken old Gyltha, but also by her baby Allie (product of a love affair with a man who is now unfortunately Bishop of Saint Albans), Adelia reluctantly sets forth – and is instantly embroiled in intrigue, murder, and decaying corpses.

Adelia is a deliciously complex woman. Dedicated and scary-smart, she has spent most of her life focused on her science, and only since arriving in England has her heart begun to catch up to her brain. She is fond of but exasperated by England, with its gorgeous land and warm people, but with a most primitive way of thinking about many things - most frustratingly for Adelia, about women and their proper role in life. Adelia is bull-headed and has few social graces - she yells when embarrassed and her attire is a disgrace - but her intelligence and love of her work make her fascinating.

This book is not without flaws. Neither Gyltha nor Mansur are given much opportunity to become much more than stock characters, and baby Allie is practically a cardboard figure of a baby (although she does wet her clouts and need to be nursed). Less seriously, there isn’t much sense of the 12th century, although Ariana Franklin takes pains to explain in an afterword that several details that seem anachronistic are actually accurate. I suppose I prefer my Middle Ages as stinky and earthy as possible, but this is just a quibble; it’s pretty certain Henry II’s subjects didn’t think of themselves as either quaint or backwards. All in all, this is a well-balanced mixture of detective story and medieval saga, sure to satisfy fans of both genres.

A New Steampunk Anthology

For those of you interested in the Steampunk genre, there is a new anthology of short stories called Steampunk by Ann and Jeff Vandermeer. I haven't read it yet (it's going on the wishlist!), but it's gotten great reviews, including this one from LA Times. These are "grown-up" stories but I bet teen fans would love them.

See my post on Steampunk below for a definition of sorts, plus examples in the YA world.

Internet for Infants

Heh! Check this out for an uneasy laugh, courtesy of the talented Kean Soo, creator of Jellaby. Thanks to Educating Alice for the link.

Lamplighter by D.M. Cornish

I’ve finally finished the lusciously thick and richly illustrated second volume of the “Monster Blood Tattoo” trilogy, and I’m horrified that there is only one more to go. I’ve never been much of a Fan-Girl (well all right, I did get my high school to change my middle name to “Galadriel” on all official school documents), but this stuff is too good to be anything but obsessive about.

Lamplighter by D.M. Cornish (Putnam, 2008) is, like its predecessor Foundling (Putnam, 2007), a dark and dense pleasure indeed. Young Rossamund has begun his prenticeship as an Emperor’s Lamplighter at the labyrinthine stronghold Winstermill and begins to adapt to the rigorous schedule. Rossamund has a remarkable talent for finding and befriending the gems among some truly rough characters, and these friends come in very handy as a sinister hidden plot results in Winstermill being controlled by nefarious schemers. To shorten the rest of the plot to one sentence – Rossamund and his reluctant friend Threnody are prematurely placed in the most dangerous, monster-ridden stronghold in the Empire, survive several nasty monster attacks, and end up back at Winstermill, where Rossamund is accused of something that the reader has suspected all along. What that is, you’ll have to discover for yourself; I’m no plot spoiler!

The many vivid characters and their intriguing relationships to each other, the intricate details of dress, routine, language, food, and everything else, and most of all Rossamund’s growing awareness of his own nature and thoughts about the world – these elements, bound together by masterful prose, make reading these two books an intense experience. Cornish has built an entire rich world, and I plunged into it gladly.

May I use that word “obsessive” again? Cornish’s drawings, tables, charts, glossary, and maps point to a seriously deranged mind. Reading these books is like reading a foreign language you’re not quite fluent in; you have to keep checking the glossary until finally you just let the strange words sweep you away into the story. In one section of Lamplighter, Rossamund and some others play a card game called Pirouette. Some general rules were given. I checked the glossary; there was an entry but the full rules weren’t given. However – I am quite sure that if I dropped by Mr. Cornish’s house in Australia and asked him to play a game of Pirouette with me, he’d whip out a deck of cards (handpainted by himself) and teach me to play.

Visit http://www.monsterbloodtattoo.com/ to get an inkling of the Half-Continent’s allure. There's even a blog, oh happy day.

For obsessive readers grades 8 and up, including addled adults.