"Grasshopper Jungle' by Andrew Smith

Smith, Andrew. Grasshopper Jungle. Dutton Books: New York, 2014. Print.

Image from:
www.authorandrewsmith.com

Andrew Smith tackles the end of the world in Grasshopper Jungle.  Literally. It all starts with a confluence of unconnected events, beginning when Austin and his best friend Robby are beat up by four boys from another high school in the alley known as Grasshopper Jungle behind a nearly-defunct shopping mall.  In an unrelated incident, the four boys break into the office of the thrift store in the mall and steal a mysterious, glowing, blue globe with something grotesque floating inside.  The boys drop the globe in Grasshopper Jungle, where the contents come into contact with drops of blood left by Austin and Robby after they had been beaten up.

And thus, begins the end of the world.  A world where a mutated plague turns humans into six foot tall praying mantises.  Who only want to do two things: eat and mate (although Smith uses a much more colloquial term).  Still, even with the end of the world looming, Austin must continue to deal with real life.  His brother Eric is serving with the Army in Afghanistan, and is injured by a roadside bomb later in the novel.  Austin has a longtime girlfriend Shann, who's been hinting that it might be time to take their relationship further.  At the same time, Austin spends much of the novel grappling with the idea that he might also be in love with, and sexually attracted to, Robby.  He can't break up with Shann to be with Robby without hurting Shann, but he can't repudiate Robby without devastating Robby.

And he still has to figure out how to eliminate the super-strong bugs, who find humans to be a tasty snack.

All throughout the novel, Austin ruminates on his family's history from his Polish great-great-great grandfather to his father and his own place in the universe.  While these side trips through Austin's family history might seem to be odd segues, Austin's relentless probing reminds us that as much as we want to believe we're in control of the history swirling around us, sometimes we're just pulled helplessly along in its eddies.

As science-fiction, this is reminiscent of a Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits episode.  Foreboding.  With a hefty dash of weird.  And strangely plausible.

Austin is a typical Smith protagonist.  He feels deeply, can be awfully introspective for a teenager, and thinks about sex and sexuality quite often.  Also in typical Smith fashion, Robby's sexuality is treated as a statement of fact, with absolutely no judgments. Austin's questions into his own sexuality is handled sensitively, but with no easy resolution.  This, I think, is one of things I like best about Smith as a writer.  He does tend to leave some plot strands wide open, while neatly tying others up.  In Grasshopper Jungle, what occurs outside of Austin's small town of Ealing, Iowa is a complete mystery, which adds to the Twilight Zone feel of the novel.

I highly recommend this for readers who like dystopia, science-fiction, or are fans of Twilight Zone.  It's a book that stays with you, long after you put it down.

Grasshopper Jungle received a 2015 Printz Honor.

'Stand Off' by Andrew Smith

Smith, Andrew. Stand Off. New York: Simon and Schuster BFYR, 2015. Print.
ISBN: 978-1-4814-1829-4

Image from:
www.simonandschuster.com

When we last saw Ryan Dean West, his best friend Joey Cosentino had just died under horrific circumstances, and Ryan Dean was struggling to grieve.  Fast forward to the following September, and it's Ryan Dean's last year at Pine Mountain.  It's his senior year, he's still dating Annie Altman, his dream girl, and hopefully, he can mend his relationship with his friends, Sean and JP.

Life has other plans for Ryan Dean.

Even though he's a senior, Ryan Dean has to room with Pine Mountain's newest child prodigy, Sam Abernathy in a tiny dormitory room with the other freshmen, and to add insult to injury, the only set of sheets Ryan Dean and his mother could find to fit the child-sized beds in the room are pink flannel with a winged unicorn called "Princess Snugglewarm."

Could it be any worse?

Oh, yes.  It can.

Sam (or the Abernathy as Ryan Dean calls him) is walking brochure for Pine Mountain.  Clean-cut, polite, an uncanny ability to create real food out of the bits and pieces left for the students on weekends, with a puppy-like eagerness to follow Ryan Dean around campus, who happens to need to sleep with the window wide open, as well as the door to their dorm room.  Sam confesses he cannot sleep without the window and door open, as he suffers from severe claustrophobia.

Oh, and there's N.A.T.E. (the Next Accidental Terrible Experience) who keeps following Ryan Dean around Pine Mountain, taking over his drawings, haunting his sleep.

There's also a chance encounter with Joey's parents and younger brother, Nico, who resembles Joey to such a degree, it's almost painful for Ryan Dean to be around him.  

On top of it all, Coach McAuliffe, the rugby coach, wants Ryan Dean to move from the left wing to the half-fly, which happened to be Joey's position, as well as take over as team captain, which was also Joey's position.  It's a bit much for Ryan Dean to handle.

He's not handling it well.  He's not handling it well, at all.  

The novel has a radically different mood than Winger.  In Winger, Ryan Dean is exuberant, flirtatious,  and a genuinely nice guy.  He's still a genuinely nice guy in Stand Off, albeit one still struggling with grief for his best friend.  Ryan Dean's world has drastically shrunk, especially since his two friends from rugby and Opportunity Hall (Chas and Kevin) graduated, and he's still estranged from Seanie and JP.  The novel appropriately feels claustrophobic, echoing not only the new influence of Sam Abernathy, but Ryan Dean's shrinking circle of friends.  The illustrations that provided so many of the humorous and whimsical moments in Winger have been reduced in number, and their tone has changed as well.  Most of the illustrations that do appear in the novel depict Ryan Dean's fight with N.A.T.E., although others depict some of his more humiliating moments. The book also covers a shorter time frame than Winger.  Whereas Winger took place over at least three months of school, Stand Off covers roughly three to four weeks, contributing to the overall compressed feel of the book.

This version of Ryan Dean is more mature, although he still has his endearingly awkward moments, such as when he deflects the amorous attentions of one of his rugby teammates, utilizing the lessons in consent they've learned from their sex-ed teacher.  Still, the more Ryan Dean faces his personal demons, the more he resembles the Ryan Dean we came to know and love in Winger, just one that's grown up a bit.  It's particularly evident in the scenes where his friend Seanie comes out to him, and the way he learns to cope with Sam's claustrophobia and accept Sam as a friend.

Smith does a really fantastic job depicting Ryan Dean's ongoing struggle to come to terms with Joey's death.  He also manages to send home the message that people often need a little help from their friends or professional therapists to manage things like grief or childhood-trauma-induced claustrophobia.  Rather than have other characters badger Ryan Dean, Smith lets their actions do the hard work of persuading Ryan Dean he doesn't have to face N.A.T.E. -- or indeed anything -- by himself without getting preachy.   As in Winger, Smith displays a deft and sensitive touch regarding characters' sexualities as a matter of fact.

If there are weaknesses in the book at all, they mostly lie in how Smith writes the girls, especially Annie.  They tend to be somewhat two-dimensional.  However, considering the source -- namely Ryan Dean's narration -- it's not necessarily a crippling weakness, or even a major one.  It's too easy to forget Ryan Dean is only fifteen years old, and that his attitudes often reflect his emotional maturity, which doesn't always mirror that of his intellectual maturity.  Smith manages to wrap up several of the loose ends introduced in the book, while decidedly NOT tying everything up in a nice, pretty bow.

This is a fine addition to anyone's collection of realistic YA fiction.  It's a lovely and refreshing break from the glut of paranormal fiction that's dominated YA in recent years.  I'm not sure if Smith is finished with the adventures of Ryan Dean West, but I, for one, would love to see Ryan Dean tackle college.

'Winger' by Andrew Smith

Smith, Andrew. Winger. New York: Simon and  Schuster, 2013. Print.

Photo by: Simon and Schuster

If you read the blurb on the back of the book that summarizes Winger, a few thoughts might run through your head.  It describes Ryan Dean West, a fourteen year-old junior at Pine Mountain, an exclusive boarding school in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon.  A few of the thoughts that went through my head were: #poorlittlerichboy and #firstworldproblems.

Ryan Dean (yes, that's his first name) doesn't mind attending Pine Mountain.  He doesn't have the best relationship with his parents to begin with, and his father is a politician in Boston.  Ryan Dean is a bit precocious and, as Pine Mountain is in a remote location, it effectively removes any chance of scandal back home.  Before you get the idea that Pine Mountain is a refuge for poor little rich kids, here are a few of their rules: no cell phones, no iPods, uniforms -- at all times, and all the students are required to participate in at least one sport.  Oh, and there's existence of Opportunity Hall, the dorm for "troublemakers".  Opportunity Hall, or O-Hall, is no picnic.  There are no locks on the doors, the shower curtains in the boys' bathroom are on the grungy side, and scary Mrs. Singer oversees the vacant girls' floor of O-Hall.

Ryan Dean has been assigned to live in O-Hall because of an incident the previous school year, and his roommate is none other than Chas Becker, a large, menacing senior, who Ryan Dean is convinced wants to kill him.  The book follows Ryan Dean and his exploits over the first few months of the school year at Pine Mountain.  Ryan Dean tries to not rouse the ire of Chas, fit in with the much older boys in O-Hall, keep his position on the varsity rugby team, and get his best friend Annie to admit she's mad about him.

Smith writes the book from the point-of-view of Ryan Dean, so we're privy to all his inner thoughts about girls, his classes, rugby, girls, the inhabitants of O-Hall, girls...  Smith captures Ryan Dean in all his adolescent glory.  His inner voice can be quite profane, but Ryan Dean is a sweet kid at heart, who can recognize his mistakes.  Ryan Dean is a wonderfully complex character, who struggles to find his niche at Pine Mountain.  He's too mature for the other fourteen year-olds, but still a kid in many ways to his classmates in the eleventh grade.  Ryan Dean has a wry, amusing take on life, perhaps especially when life decides to make situations as humiliating to Ryan Dean as possible.

Other characters are less well-drawn, especially the girls.  At first glance, it's possible that Smith ventured into Mary Sue territory, because all the girls are, in Ryan Dean's word, "hot".  Two girls in particular, Annie and Megan, are almost too perfect so that it hurts to look at them.  On further reflection, perhaps it's because we're looking at them through Ryan Dean's eyes, so of course they are presented in the burnished glow of Ryan Dean's admiration.  Chas is a grunting, seething, looming presence in the book.  Nick and Casey, two of the other boys in O-Hall, are painted as stereotypical aggressive jocks.  One of the characters that has the potential to be as complex and interesting as Ryan Dean is Joey Cosentino, who is a stereotype-defying gay teen, often serving as the voice of Ryan Dean's conscience.  Joey gently guides Ryan Dean into being a better man, while Ryan Dean wholeheartedly accepts Joey as one of his best friends.

Ryan Dean is an artist, so the book is littered with his illustrations that depict his rich imagination or his current state of mind as presented in various graphs.  The overall tone is endearing, engaging, and often hilarious.  There is a dark turn toward the end of the book, and Smith cuts things short with that event.  There is a sequel, Stand-Off, that should be published next fall.  Hopefully, Smith will let us see how Ryan Dean has coped with the events that marked the end of Winger.  

To borrow a phrase from Ryan Dean, I give Winger a four-out-of-five-chicken-potpies-on-the-Lisa-scale-of-you-should-read-this.  It makes a welcome departure from the glut of vampire and dystopian novels cluttering the YA shelves.

'Monster' by Walter Dean Myers, Illustrated by Christopher Myers

Myers, Walter Dean. Monster. Illus. Christopher Myers.  New York: HarperTeen, 1999.

There is a mirror over the steel sink in my cell.  It’s six inches high, and scratched with the names of some guys who were here before me.   When I look into the small rectangle, I see a face looking back at me but I don’t recognize it.  It doesn’t look like me.  I couldn’t have changed that much in a few months.  I wonder if I will look like myself when the trial is over (Myers 1-2).

This is our first introduction to Steve Harmon, a sixteen year-old boy on trial for murder in New York City.  Walter Dean Myers’ acclaimed novel, Monster, follows Steve through his trial, where he wrestles with the question of whether or not he is, as labeled by the prosecuting attorney, a monster.  At first glance, it seems as if Steve was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but flashbacks interspersed through the trial testimony, reveal small details that aren’t discussed in the trial, nor in the journal Steve keeps during the trial, a journal his lawyer admonishes him “not to write anything in… that [he does] not want the prosecutor to see” (Myers 137).  The small disparities between the journal entries and the testimony call into question Steve’s declared innocence and leads the reader to ponder the question: is he truly innocent of the crime or guilty?

Monster, the winner of the inaugural Printz Award, is a searing indictment of the justice system, the prison system, and the social structure that “links the credibility of males to displays and postures of toughness, physical strength, and the threat or use of violence” (Earp and Katz qtd. in Groenke, Maples, and Henderson 34).  The novel also questions the morality many of the prisoners employ in their ability to “separate themselves from their acts that permitted them to commit those acts in the first place” (Goodson 28).  Myers noticed a common thread in the stories he heard from various prisoners he interviewed as part of the research for Monster.  In an interview with Lori Atkins Goodson, he states,

I was shocked to find out how many of the inmates whose stories I was hearing were surprised to find themselves in prison… They uniformly thought of themselves as good people who had made some mistake, which had taken them afoul of the law… It was a common occurrence to find an interviewee speaking of himself… in the first person when talking about their upbringing, and then switching to the third person when speaking of the crime of which they had been convicted (28).

Myers states that it was this disconnect from their actions that formed the backbone of Monster  (Goodson 28).  Myers writes the novel as a hybrid of Steve’s journal entries and a screenplay that Steve also writes as the trial progresses. (Steve also happens to attend a magnet school where he studies filmmaking.)  The different formats represent Steve’s ability to separate himself from the scene of the crime.  The journal is written in first person, but the screenplay places Steve firmly in the third person, although it shows, in Steve’s words, his experience of the trial (Myers 4).  As Steve is the director, screenwriter, and star of his movie, he is able to shape the audience’s perception of the other members of his “cast” though the use of stage directions and camera angles or descriptions of the other cast members that focus on details, like Osvaldo’s gang tattoos (Schneider 20).    

This disconnect is also evident in the testimony of the witnesses called by the prosecution.  Many of them have been accused of crimes themselves, but have finagled a deal with the prosecution to exchange their testimony for a lighter sentence or a plea deal.  It is not always clear whether or not the witnesses are actually telling the truth, other than their testimony that claims they are.  The witnesses exemplify a central tenant of the novel: how do we know when someone is telling the truth?  Furthermore, the witnesses could very well be truthful, but their status as an inmate colors the reader’s (and jury’s) perceptions of their testimony.  Osvaldo, one of the prosecution’s witnesses, is timid and in fear of his life on the stand, but Steve’s flashback of an encounter with Osvaldo reveals a very different persona, one that scoffs at Steve for his reluctance to engage in the kind of lifestyle accepted by the other males in the neighborhood and has a confrontational attitude.

One of the other themes of the novel centers on the idea that all young men of color are the same in the eyes of a jury.  Kathy O’Brien, Steve’s lawyer, spends much of the trial attempting to make the jury see Steve as separate from his co-defendant, James King.  It is a task made more difficult by the fact that both Steve and James are African-American and “look like most of the other prisoners in the jail, so how is the jury to tell that he is any different from the unsavory witnesses and other defendants?” (Schneider 20). Steve even notes in more than one instance that his own lawyer is unsure of his guilt or innocence, perhaps subconsciously grouping Steve with James because of Steve’s race and a belief that a person will say or do anything to avoid a lengthy jail sentence.   

Part of Steve's journal
Photo by: L. Propes

Susan Groenke and Melissa Youngquist classify Monster as a postmodern novel due to Myers’ use of the following characteristics of postmodern literature: identity in flux as a theme, genre eclecticism, interplay between word and image, and active readers (506-507).  Steve’s identity is never settled during the novel, and even at the end, he is not able to definitively answer who he really is (Groenke and Youngquist 506).  Groenke and Youngquist characterize Steve as in a constant struggle to “understand who he is as an African American male, a star student, and a loving son and brother in a society that tells him he can only be one of two things: a thug or a sellout” (506).  As discussed earlier, the novel employs multiple formats to expose the reader to Steve and his personality.  The epistolary sections provide a glimpse into Steve’s inner thoughts and feelings, revealing his terror at the thought of spending the next twenty years behind bars.  The rest of the text of the novel employs a conventional screenplay format that serves to distance Steve in the journal from the Steve in the trial.  Flashbacks that show Steve in scenes with his family, James King (the other person on trial), and other people from his neighborhood provide a level of ambiguity that contributes to the questions of Steve’s innocence.  Christopher Myers’ illustrations show photographs of Steve in various places: the prison, the drugstore (presumably the day of the robbery and murder), and even a courtroom drawing of Steve and his attorney when his verdict is read.  The photographs, which are paired with relevant text, also aim to create an image of Steve that leads the reader to further question Steve’s motives and innocence (Groenke and Youngquist 507).  All of these elements combine together to force the reader to “fill in the gaps and pull together discrete parts or narrative strands” in order to come to a conclusion about Steve (Groenke and Youngquist 507). 

A page of screenplay format
Photo by: L. Propes

Myers comments in an essay at the end of the novel, “kids don’t think about things until after they happen… That’s typical of kids -- you do things first, then you think about it.  By the time you think about it, you’re in big trouble. I think the problem with so many young people is that violence gets to be a resource.  When nothing else works for you, violence always does, and you’re always drawn to it” (292).  Those fingerprints, so to speak, are all over Monster.  Steve does something (although it’s left ambiguous in the novel just what he does) that implicates him in the robbery and murder, but doesn’t think about the ramifications of where he was at that specific moment until well after the event and he’s sitting in jail.  At the end of the novel, Steve is still examining his actions.  The other characters -- Osvaldo, James, Bobo, and the other inmates in the prison -- personify the second part of Myers’ statement.  They have grown so accustomed to committing acts of violence and getting what they want out of it, that it’s become their go-to method of coping with life.  Steve comments on the level of violence within the prison in his journal: “Violence in here is always happening or just about ready to happen.  I think these guys like it -- they want it to be normal because that’s what they’re used to dealing with” (Myers 144). 

One of Christopher Myers'
illustrations
Photo by: L. Propes

Monster is an interesting novel that presents “kids that were not ‘good’, ‘smart’, and growing up in the perfect home” (Blumenstetter 39).  It gives students, especially minority students, a character who looks like them, their friends, or family members and shows a “world they live in every day” (Blumenstetter 39).  One level of difficulty students might have with it lies in the postmodern structure of the novel, as displayed in Groenke and Youngquist’s experience teaching Monster to a ninth-grade English class (508-510).  The novel is largely linear in its structure, but the flashbacks are not conspicuously set apart from the trial testimony, so it might be confusing to some readers to see an event that isn’t directly related to the trial in the middle of a trial. If students are not familiar with the structure of a screenplay or a script, they might have a bit of an adjustment period with the technical terminology Steve uses in the stage directions and camera angles.  There are small bits of dark humor scattered through Steve’s journal entries when the inmates discuss their cases.  One anecdote in particular exemplifies this in which a man who was charged with armed robbery, assault, and menacing, among other things, claims that because the jewelry store had an automatic locking system, he wasn’t able to actually steal anything and didn’t have a gun anyway, he shouldn’t be charged with a crime. The text is rich with bits and pieces like this that can instigate debate in a classroom apart from the main question of the novel.  Students who are fans of Law and Order marathons will probably love this book. 

Teachers who choose to offer Monster as either a whole-class reading or an option in a literature circle can have their students research statistics for the incarceration rates of minorities and the crimes for which they’ve been convicted.  They can also debate Steve’s guilt or innocence, using evidence gleaned from the novel.  Students can also present ideas to help students like Osvaldo before he becomes part of the system.  Some classes might need structured guidance to read this novel, given its unorthodox format. 

Monster not only won the Printz Award, it also won a Coretta Scott King honor and was a National Book Award finalist. 

If a teacher wants to compare the relative merits of the Printz winner and honor books from 2000, the honor books were: Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Skellig by David Almond, and Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger. 

Myers is also the author of: Fallen Angels, Sunrise Over Fallujah, Scorpions, Slam!, Bad Boy, Autobiography Of My Dead Brother, Riot, and Darius & Twig, just to name a few.  For a complete list of his published works, please visit his website.  Myers is a prolific author of award-winning fiction and nonfiction.

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Works Cited

Blumenstetter, Kerri Gallagher. "Walter Dean Myers Writes for Inner-City Students." Social Science Docket 12.2 (2012): 39-40. Web. Education Research Complete. 16 June 2014.

Goodson, Lori Atkins. "Walter Dean Myers: A Monster of a Voice for Young Adults." The ALAN Review. 36.1 (2008): 26-31. Web. Free E-Journals. 16 June 2014.

Groenke, Susan L., Joellen Maples, and Jill Henderson. "Raising “Hot Topics” through Young Adult Literature." Voices from the Middle 17.4 (2010): 29-36. Web. National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE). 16 June 2014.

Groenke, Susan Lee, and Michelle Youngquist. "Are we Postmodern Yet? Reading Monster with 21st-Century Ninth Graders." Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy 54.7 (2011): 505-13. Web. Education Research Complete. 16 June 2014.

Myers, Walter Dean. Monster. Ills. Christopher Myers. New York: HarperTeen, 1999. Print.

Schneider, Dean. "The Novel as Screenplay: Monster and Riot by Walter Dean Myers." Book Links 19.2 (2010): 20-3. Web. Academic Search Complete. 16 June 2014.

'Elijah of Buxton' by Christopher Paul Curtis

Curtis, Christopher Paul. (2007). Elijah of Buxton. New York, Scholastic, Inc. ISBN: 9780439023450

Photo by: L. Propes

Most American schoolchildren are taught about the effect of the Fugitive Slave Act, passed in 1850 as part of the Compromise of 1850 that admitted California as a free state; gave Texas 10 million dollars in exchange for relinquishing claims on disputed territory and set its present-day boundaries; and abolished the slave trade in Washington, D.C., but kept slavery legal.  The Fugitive Slave Act meant that former slaves who had successfully escaped into the North now risked recapture back into slavery.  Free African-Americans were also targets for slave catchers to be sold into slavery.  The Underground Railroad was at its most active in this period, ferrying escaped slaves into Canada (PBS, 2014).

But what happened to the freed slaves once they were in Canada?

Elijah of Buxton tells the story of Elijah, the first (fictional) child born in the settlement of Buxton, in what is now western Ontario.  Buxton was founded by an abolitionist white Presbyterian minister to be a town for freed slaves.  Buxton was not the only town whose initial residents were mostly former slaves, but it was the most successful (Curtis, 2007).  Elijah's status as the first child born in Buxton means he receives just a bit more attention than the other children born there after him.  Over the course of the story, Elijah learns to appreciate the very freedom he has because of his birthplace.  Between overhearing stories from the adults in Buxton and his own involvement in an attempt to aid a fellow resident purchase his family's freedom, Elijah sees his freedom for the precious gift that it is.

Elijah Freeman is an ordinary eleven year-old boy.  He has school, chores, his friends, and a talent for throwing stones at his intended targets.  Elijah's mother calls him "fra-gile".  Elijah isn't physically fragile.  He's a sensitive and often perceptive young man who often wears his heart on his sleeve.  Elijah also happens to have a healthy fear of snakes. His parents, both escaped slaves, want Elijah to make the most of the opportunity that freedom have given them all.  The novel covers the rhythm of life in Buxton over the course of several months.  New residents arrive in Buxton with origins shrouded in mystery.  One resident finally has acquired enough money to purchase his wife and two children.  Slave catchers are rumored to have made it as far north as Canada.  A carnival comes to the neighboring town.

An underlying tension permeates the novel, introduced in the opening pages.  It often revolves the character of the Preacher, a man Elijah can't bring himself to trust completely, even though he feels a minister ought to be trustworthy.  Elijah's dealings with the Preacher always leave him unsettled, and feeling that something wrong has happened and unsure of how to articulate his feelings.  Plus, the Preacher refuses to live in Buxton and abide by its rules.  His past is a blank page to the Buxton residents.  The stories he spins about how he manages to acquire certain things, like a pair of matched pistols, ring hollow.  But, he is the Preacher.  There's also the tension between the adults, who remember their lives of often harsh servitude, and the children who have only known Buxton.  There is also the tension of the escaped slaves, remembering their family members that were left behind in the South.

The pace of the novel meanders a little.  It feels like a river, flowing placidly along its course, curving and twisting as the landscape changes until it hits a sudden drop and the action comes in a rapid burst until it levels out again.  There are several instances in the book where the action rises and falls, but the actual climax of the novel occurs late in the book.  It does, however, drive the final nail into the coffin for Elijah's "fra-gile" nature.  The pace of the novel complements Elijah's maturation, as it happens with so many children, in fits and starts.

Curtis writes the narrative of the novel from Elijah's point of view, so not only is the dialogue written in dialect, so is the narrative text.  There are a few terms that might be unfamiliar to some readers, but  their meaning is clear from the characters reactions.  Their voices can clearly be heard inside a reader's head, and this novel would lend itself well to a read-aloud.  The language is appropriate for the time period and for the age of the story's narrator.

Curtis is a master in this book of showing the reader events and their effect on the characters, rather than just telling them.  He often shows the readers the effect of slavery on families, particularly when a new family, the Taylors, arrives in Buxton.  The Misses Duncan, sisters, recognize Mrs. Taylor as their baby sister, sold to Arkansas from North Carolina when Mrs. Taylor was just a small child with their brother.  Curtis allows the situation of unfold through the dialogue between the Misses Duncan and Mr. Taylor and Elijah's private observations about the way the adults act in this potentially disruptive situation.   Elijah is, in fact, an ideal observer of the life in Buxton.  As a child, he often fades into the background and overhears conversations that he would otherwise not be privy to had the adults known he was listening.   Elijah's internal commentary also displays his growing maturation and provides a window into the community politics of Buxton.

This is a look at a place that isn't even on the radar of most American history classes.  Of course most students have been taught that many escaped slaves ended up in Canada, but their class narrative ends at the 49th parallel.  Curtis visited the settlement of Buxton (it still exists, but primarily as a museum) and used many of their resources to construct the history of Elijah and his community.  Several events in the book were inspired by actual events, which he notes in an author's note at the end of the novel. He even remarks that Buxton was such a successful town due to the strict rules that governed the appearance of houses and their property in a mid-eighteenth century precursor of a homeowners association.  Small details, like how long it would take for mail to be delivered to Buxton from the United States or the value of a nickel, bring the historical era to vivid life.  Curtis offers a small reference list in a brief history of Buxton (aka the Elgin Settlement at Buxton) as well as a timeline of the history of Buxton, and encourages readers to try to visit the museum.

This would be an excellent resource to use in a history class, especially if they are studying the role of slavery in U.S. history.  This would also be an excellent story to tell during African-American History Month, because it would probably be a brand-new episode of African-American history for many students to experience.  The Buxton National Historic Site and Museum has a website that includes teaching resources for classrooms (see "The Learning Centre" tab).  The Día Family Book Club has a free downloadable lesson plan that can be used in a family literacy program about Elijah of Buxton.

Elijah of Buxton is a Newberry Honor book, the winner of the Coretta Scott King Award, and the winner of the Scott O'Dell Award for historical fiction.  It is also available as an audiobook, read by Mirron Willis.  

Other books suggested by the Buxton museum include: I Came as a Stranger by Bryan Prince, The Last Safe House by Barbara Greenwood, North Star to Freedom by Gena K. Gorrel, and Many Thousand Gone by Virginia Hamilton.  

Christopher Paul Curtis has written many books about the African-American experience throughout history.  His novels include The Watsons Go to Birmingham -- 1963 (Newberry Honor; Coretta Scott King Honor); Bud, Not Buddy (Newberry Medal winner; Coretta Scott King Award); The Mighty Miss Malone, Bucking the Sarge; and the upcoming The Madmen of Piney Woods, a companion book to Elijah of Buxton.

Readers can also visit Curtis' website at www.nobodybutcurtis.com.

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"It's funny, it's sad, and it has characters who do their best to stand up to what's in front of them and do the right thing.  Humor and horror and courage are never far apart in this story, sometimes intertwined in a single scene.  Curtis is a masterful storyteller, and this is his best work yet." -- Dean Schneider, Book Links, 2008

"Elijah is an engaging protagonist, and whether he is completing his chores or lamenting his Latin studies or experiencing his first traveling carnival, his descriptions are full of charm and wonder.  Although his colloquial language may prove challenging for some readers, it brings an authenticity and richness to the story that is well worth the extra effort it might require... His guileless recounting of the people he meets and the horrors he sees will allow readers to understand the dangers of the Underground Railroad without being overwhelmed by them... Curtis's talent for dealing with painful periods of history with grace and sensitivity is as strong as ever." -- Kim Dare, School Library Journal, 2007

"Curtis deals with the difficult topic of slavery from a youthful perspective, allowing Elijah to learn of its sadness and pain first hand.  This is done without overwhelming the reader, by infusing the novel with humor.  Character development and voice are great strengths of this terrific novel." -- Spencer Korson, Library Media Connection, 2008

"Curtis' rare combination of humor, suspense, and emotional depth approaches the subject of slavery obliquely at first but gradually leads Elijah to the human tragedy at its core." -- Booklist, 2008

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References:

Curtis, Christopher Paul. 2007. Elijah of buxton. Boston: Sandpiper.

Dare, Kim. 2007. Elijah of buxton. School Library Journal 53 (10) (10): 146-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=27080818&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Elijah of buxton. 2008. Booklist 104 (9) (1): 12-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=28830502&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Glantz, Shelley. 2008. Elijah of buxton. Library Media Connection 26 (4) (01): 71-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=28106064&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Schneider, Dean. 2008. Holding on to hope. Book Links 18 (2) (11): 11-5, 
       http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?           
       direct=true&db=a9h&AN=35265694&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

The compromise of 1850 and the fugitive slave act. [cited March 23 2014]. Available from  
       http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/aia/part4/4p2951.html.

'Okay For Now' by Gary D. Schmidt

Schmidt, Gary D. (2011). Okay For Now. Boston: Sandpiper.  ISBN: 9780544022805 (paperback)

Photo by: L. Propes

Doug Swieteck has problems.  His father's abusive.  He's the youngest of three boys.  The middle brother is a bully.  His oldest brother is overseas, fighting in a war.  And on top of it all, his family is forced to move.  For Doug, a Long Island boy, born and bred, the move to Marysville in upstate New York might as well be to another planet.  Ostensibly a fresh start, the problems from their working-class Long Island neighborhood have followed them to Marysville.  For Doug, Marysville marks the place where everything comes to a head, and he -- and the other members of his family -- must confront their personal demons.  It's a situation that will either destroy Doug or help him find out who he really is.

Okay For Now is a companion book to Schmidt's The Wednesday Wars.  Written from the perspective of Doug, Schmidt examines a fraught family dynamic that initially seems as if it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Mr. Swieteck takes out his frustrations on his wife and sons, leading Doug and his middle brother to wonder if the same fate awaits them.  Mrs. Swieteck shows Doug that there is room for compassion and sympathy in the world, often managing to thwart Mr. Swieteck's stated wishes in small acts of passive resistance.  While the initial relationship between Doug and his brother is antagonistic, they manage to find common ground in their shared fears of turning into their father.  Their oldest brother returns home from the war, wounded and seemingly broken.

Doug's struggles are legion and almost seem too much for a fourteen year-old to bear, let alone endure.  His early views of Marysville as a prison slowly change as he finds refuge, first in the local public library, then later when he begins to make friends at school.  Doug's friends introduce him to a way of thinking about life, art, and music in ways that he could never have imagined.  His first positive male influence is Mr. Powell, one of the librarians who notices Doug's rapt fascination with their original volume of John James Audubon's Birds of America.  Mr. Powell takes Doug under his wing and teaches him how to draw, using the Audubon prints on display as a teaching tool to explain the finer details of art.  More positive influences emerge in Doug's life: some of his teachers at school who help Doug tackle and cope with some of his bigger problems; neighbors who grow to trust Doug, in spite of a spate of thefts that implicate Doug's brother; and Lilian Spicer, the daughter of the owner of the local grocery and deli, who becomes Doug's ally and best friend.

Schmidt's voice for Doug is a little disjointed in the beginning, jumping from thought to thought.  As Doug gains more and more confidence, the prose becomes more fluid.  The more Doug comes out of his defensive shell, the more he is able to see the world and his own family with more clarity, and that things aren't always how they seem on the surface.  It is at this point that Schmidt allows Doug to see his middle brother's humanity.  For most of the first half of the book, Doug's middle brother has no name.  It isn't until Lucas, their oldest brother, returns home from Vietnam, wounded and disabled, that we learn his name.  Christopher.  The Christopher that we see in the second half of the novel is a revelation.  Schmidt allows his characters' deep-seated emotions to burble to the surface at unexpected moments.  It is like receiving a small gift, wrapped in a bundle of conflict and hostility.

The other characters in the book are almost stock characters: the eccentric playwright, the odd science teacher, the bullying P.E. teacher.  As lovely as the character of Lilian Spicer is, she almost crosses the line into Manic Pixie Dream Girl territory.  With the exception of his immediate family, the other characters in the book are merely players in the stage of Doug Swieteck's memory.  Like all characters, they serve their purpose in giving Doug a glimpse at what his life can become.  The saving grace for many of the characters is that Schmidt offers a peek at the person beneath the facade.  This prevents them from becoming caricatures.

Schmidt frames each chapter with an Audubon print.  Events and characters in that particular chapter are often described in terms of the birds in the print and insights gained from Doug's discussions with Mr. Powell.  The title of the book even comes from one of Doug's observations about the snowy heron in one of the plates.  A hunter lurks in the background, gun poised to shoot the bird.  However, in that moment, just before the gun goes off, Doug realizes that the snowy heron cannot see the hunter, and in that particular moment, his life is okay for now.  Sharp-eyed readers will be able to read between the lines when Doug talks about certain events.  Doug isn't always forthcoming with some of the more painful or embarrassing episodes of his life, and Schmidt withholds details, letting the reader figure them out as the plot unfolds.

The Vietnam War is something relegated to the background, but its presence is a shadow that hangs over the Swieteck family, brought to flesh when Lucas comes home.  Schmidt's depiction of Lucas' homecoming matches the manner in which many Vietnam veterans were greeted as they disembarked from airplanes, trains, or buses.  In age before the Americans With Disabilities Act, Lucas' struggles to just get in an out of buildings or find a job is hampered by buildings and people who cannot accommodate his wheelchair.  Coach Reed, Doug's P.E. teacher is also a veteran of the Vietnam War, but his wounds are much more hidden than Lucas'.  Now, veterans would have access to mental health services, but the lack of such services available to Coach Reed and his attempts to deal with his personal demons neatly describe how veterans were expected to bury the past and move on with their lives.  Mr. Spicer's efforts to pay the medical bills when Lilian becomes ill are timely in an era before health insurance was a given.  Doug's voice sounds just like you might imagine an adolescent boy from a working-class Long Island neighborhood might sound.  The vocabulary and attitudes are also accurate for the late 1960s.

There are a few quibbles with the book.  Late in the novel, Mr. Swieteck undergoes a radical personality change that seems a little too pat and rapid.  Some plot points are wrapped up and tied neatly with a bow at the end.  Sometimes Doug seamlessly integrates himself into his friends' lives, but in all honesty it doesn't take anything away from the book. They are basically minor issues.

As a teacher, I've seen many boys like Doug come into my classroom. Sometimes we can help, like Mr. Ferris and Miss Cowper.  Sometimes we cannot.  The book hearkens back to an time in education where a teacher would have had the time to commit to reaching out to a boy like Doug, to give him time to settle into place, and work through some of his issues with school, without standardized tests hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.  The book also illustrates how easy it would have been for a boy like Doug to slide through the cracks at the time.

Excerpts of this book could be used in an art class, in conjunction with the Audubon images, to teach the concepts Mr. Powell explains to Doug.  Students studying the Vietnam War, or indeed, the effects of any war on its service members, could use this book to examine the issues veterans face when they return from the war front.  Students in a creative writing class can use this book as an exemplar text for writing historical fiction.  While the history forms the backdrop of the novel, it doesn't beat the reader over the head.

Students can also use the book as an entry point to become involved in veterans' groups.  The Veterans of Foreign Wars, Disabled American Veterans,  Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, or the Wounded Warriors Project might be good places to start.

Okay For Now was a finalist for the National Book Award for Young People's Literature in 2011 and the audiobook version (read by Lincoln Hoppe) was an Odyssey Honor audiobook in 2012.  You can find an interview with Schmidt from the National Book Awards Dinner here and a video of Schmidt reading an excerpt from Okay For Now here.

Schmidt is also the author of the Newberry Honor book The Wednesday Wars and the Newberry and Printz Honor book Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy.  Schmidt has also written Trouble and What Came From the Stars.

Students might also want to read Walter Dean Myers' Fallen Angels, Dean Hughes' Search and Destroy, or Lt. General Hal Moore's We Were Soldiers Once... and Young.  Readers can try Laurie Halse Anderson's The Impossible Knife of Memory if they would like to read a novel that deals with a family coping with a loved one returning from a more recent war.

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"It's the summer of 1968 and Doug Swieteck has just moved to Marysville, New York.  His father is a mean drunk, his older brother seems to be a juvenile delinquent, and his mother his just trying to hold the family together.  Before the summer ends, Doug has a friend (Lil), an obsession (the work of John James Audubon), and a job (delivering groceries).  Over the course of the school year, Doug begins to change from a wary, closed boy into an open, engaged young man, despite the challenges he faces... The book closes on a bittersweet note, with hope tempering a character's serious illness; but a really happy ending would have felt out of place.  There are laugh-out-loud moments here, and passages that will move a reader to tears; it's brilliant, and beautiful, and very nearly a perfect book." -- Susan A. M. Poulter, Library Media Connection, 2011

"Schmidt incorporates a myriad of historical events from the 1968 setting (the moon landing, a broken brother returning from Vietnam, the My Lai massacre) that makes some of the improbable plot turns... all the more unconvincing.  Still, Doug's story emerges through a distinctive voice that reflects how one beat-up kid can become a young man who knows that the future holds 'so much for him to find.'" -- Betty Carter, Horn Book Magazine, 2011

"Fans of The Wednesday Wars will find that this companion novel has more in common with it than just a charismatic narrator and pitch-perfect details of daily life in the 1960s. In addition to a mix of caring adults and comically unreasonable authority figures, Schmidt also revisits baseball, theatrical escapades, and timely preoccupations like the Moon landing and the Vietnam War.  But Doug's blue-collar story is much darker than Holling's in the earlier novel, and, as a narrator, he more psychologically complex...through study of Audubon's [Birds of America]... the volume itself becomes a metaphor for  his journey from fragmented to whole self.  Schmidt manages a hard balance of relatable youth-is-hard humor and nuanced family trauma." -- Riva Pollard, School Library Journal, 2011

"We slip conventionally enough into "Okay For Now" when a city kid behind a whole rack of metaphorical eight balls heads to a new school in a Catskill backwater.  He's Douglas Swieteck, an eighth grader last seen in Gary D. Schmidt's much praised "Wednesday Wars"... In the literature of outsiders, Doug is as far out there as any... But beneath the jumble of tragedy and tragicomedy is a story about the healing power of art and about a boy's intellectual awakening... The story takes place in 1968, with Doug's family driving their pickup down to Port Authority to collect a brother, home from Vietnam.  But centered on lives badly balanced on the ragged edge of survival and uprooted by poverty, with a distant war rumbling in the background... this is a novel that could easily have been set in the present." -- Richard Peck, The New York Times Book Review, 2011 

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Works Cited:

Carter, Betty. 2011. Okay for now. Horn Book Magazine 87 (3) (May): 102-3, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=60126141&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Peck, Richard. 2011. The comeback kid. 05/15; 2014/3, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2216/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA256390002&v=2.1&u=txshracd2583&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w&asid=fb2de0db339be62d6d6a93023f360969.

Pollard, Riva. 2011. Okay for now. School Library Journal 57 (4) (04): 184-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=59966743&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Poulter, Susan A. M. 2011. Okay for now. Library Media Connection 30 (1) (Aug): 78-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=82154646&site=ehost-live&scope=site. 

'The Earth Dragon Awakes: The San Francisco Earthquake of 1906' by Laurence Yep

Yep, Laurence. (2006). The Earth Dragon Awakes: The San Francisco Earthquake of 1906. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.  ISBN: 9780060008468 (pbk)

Photo by: L. Propes

Imagine waking up in the early morning hours.  It's still dark and you can't see anything.  Then all of a sudden, the house begins to shake.  It lasts less than a minute, but it seems as if it goes on for much longer.  It stops just as suddenly as it starts.  The house isn't the same as it was thirty seconds ago.  The entire front of the house has disappeared, crumbled into the street.  Throughout the day, as you try to salvage what you can from your house, the earth under your feet trembles, and you worry that it will be just like the one that morning.  But it isn't over yet.  Fires break out all over the city and before they die out, much of the city lies in smoldering ruins.

Laurence Yep has written a fascinating (and entertaining) look at the 1906 earthquake that all but destroyed San Francisco.  Henry and Chin are best friends, but Henry lives in the Nob Hill neighborhood and Chin lives in Chinatown.  Chin's father, Ah Sing, works as the "houseboy" for Henry's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Travis.  Yep tells the story of the earthquake through the eyes of Henry and Chin, interspersed with explanations of how the 1906 earthquake happened and the subsequent fires that ravaged what the earthquake left behind.

Yep portrays Henry and Chin as typical young boys, eager to find the heroes that exist in their dreams and the "penny dreadful" books they both obsessively read.  Mr.  and Mr.s Travis are kind and benevolent, treating Ah Sing as an equal.  Ah Sing has a seemingly endless supply of patience with Chin and Henry that serves him well in the aftermath of the earthquake.  Perhaps the relationship between Ah Sing and Mr. and Mrs. Travis might be a little more familiar in the story than what would be historically accurate, but Yep has also painted the Travises in a progressive light.  Henry's San Francisco is miles apart, both literally and figuratively, from the San Francisco where Chin lives.  Yep manages to illustrate the stark differences between Henry's wealthy neighborhood and Chin's poorer one without resorting to lots of exposition.  The descriptions of Chinatown are borne on the recollections of Chin's immigration to the United States and his first impressions of his new home.  Yep describes Nob Hill in terms of the devastation after the earthquake.  The Travises and their neighbors discuss the damage to their homes, often containing priceless heirlooms.  The multifamily dwelling of Ah Sing and Chin is contrasted with the single family homes on Nob Hill.  One thing Yep does particularly well is demonstrate how in the face of brutal natural disasters, ordinary people are capable of heroic deeds.

The book is intended for younger readers (ages 8-12) as indicated on the back cover.  The language in the chapters written from Chin and Henry's point-of-view might not be historically accurate for the time period, but the chapters that describe the earthquake and fires have a lyrical, mystical lilt that separates it nicely from the rest of the story.  The narrative moves at a good pace, and never drags.  Yep includes the date, time, and location of of each chapter, giving the reader a sense of how quickly things progressed.

Yep has a special connection to San Francisco and her earthquakes.  In an afterword, he explains how his own grandfather, who worked as a houseboy, returned to San Francisco from a visit to China the day after the 1906 earthquake.  One of the first stories Yep ever sold was inspired by an earthquake that hit when he was a child.  He also survived the 1989 earthquake that hit just before Game 3 of the World Series between the San Francisco Giants and the Oakland Athletics.  He consulted a historian who has done a great deal of research into the 1906 earthquake for this book.  Yep's descriptions of the destruction caused by the earthquakes and fires is certainly accurate, and he also includes events that are known to have occurred.  In a few instances, there helpful footnotes give more detailed explanations of a phrase in order to avoid disrupting the flow of the narrative.  At the back of the book, Yep offers short reference list and photographs of San Francisco after the earthquake.

There is one thing omitted from the book that would give it even more of an effect for the reader: a map of San Francisco.  It would help readers immensely if they could see Nob Hill in relation to Chinatown.  It would also help to be able to find Oakland, where many of the refugees fled.  The lack of a map doesn't detract from the overall effectiveness of the book's depiction of the 1906 earthquake, though.

The Earth Dragon Awakes can obviously be used in a history class.  Students can use it as an example of writing about an event from two separate perspectives.  It could also be used in a science class about plate tectonics and earthquakes.  It can just as easily be used in an elementary classroom as it can an high school class.

Yep lists two websites students and teachers can visit for more information about the 1906 earthquake: the U.S. Geological Survey's website about the earthquake at http://earthquake.usgs.gov/regional/nca/1906/ or the Museum of the City of San Francisco at http://www.sfmuseum.org.

The following websites have information about Laurence Yep, including videos of interviews:

http://www.learner.org/workshops/tml/workshop4/authors5.html

http://comminfo.rutgers.edu/professional-development/childlit/yep.html

http://www.readingrockets.org/books/interviews/yep

Yep is a prolific author and winner of the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal.  Some of his many books include Dragonwings (Newberry Honor), Dragon's Gate (Newberry Honor), and the American Girl series about Isabelle.  For a more complete listing of his books, please see the following webpage: http://comminfo.rutgers.edu/professional-development/childlit/yep.html.

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"Yep looks at the San Francisco earthquake from two points of view...  Yep's research is exhaustive.  He covers all the most significant repercussions of the event, its aftershocks, and days of devastating fires... the story as a whole should appeal to reluctant readers.  It's "natural disaster" subject is both timely and topical, and Yep weaves snippets of information about plate tectonics and more very neatly around his prose." -- Catherine Threadgill, School Library Journal, 2006

"Among the horror and devastation, both boys witness acts of heroism as people help each other... Each chapter is marked with a time, date, and location so readers can follow the boys' alliterating perspective.  Some chapters present facts about such things as how the earthquake begins and how and where the fires start.  These factual chapters flow seamlessly with the rest of the novel and provide much needed background information.  Young readers will find the story engaging and the disaster fascinating." -- Michelle Glatt, Library Media Connection, 2007

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References:

Glantz, Shelley. 2007. The earth dragon awakes: The san francisco earthquake of 1906. Library Media Connection 25 (4) (01): 72-, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=23594585&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Threadgill, Catherine. 2006. The earth dragon awakes: The san francisco earthquake of 1906. School  
       Library Journal 52 (5) (05): 138-40, http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2048/login?   
      url=http://ezproxy.twu.edu:2060/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=20844123&site=ehost-
      live&scope=site.