3/28/2016
"Maybe A Fox" by Kathi Appelt and Alison McGhee
Copyright 2016, 272 pages
Realistic Fiction

Image taken from Google

Maybe A Fox is one of those "either you love it or hate it" books. If you're on the latter group, that's probably because this book can be difficult to wrap your head around. Even the synopsis was vague, and honestly it doesn't make much sense. Here it is from Goodreads:

"Sylvie and Jules. Jules and Sylvie. Jules adores her older-by-one-year sister, Sylvie.

Sylvie: beautiful like their mother.
Sylvie: supreme maker of tiny snow families.
Sylvie: faster than fast.

Sylvie: gone.

Into thin air, Sylvie goes missing, and as Jules stumbles in grief, a fox cub is born. A shadow fox, spirit and animal in one. From the minute the cub opens her eyes, she senses something very wrong. Someone—Jules.

Jules: steadfast like their father.
Jules: supreme maker of tiny snow foxes.
Jules: collector of rocks.

Jules: heartbroken.

Who is this Jules? Who is this Sylvie she cries out for? And why does the air still prickle with something unsettled? As that dark unknown grows, the fates of the girl Jules and the fox cub, laced together with wishes and shadowy ties, are about to collide."

I remember my immediate thought after reading that synopsis above was: "what?". And honestly, even with context, I can still imagine some people raising an eyebrow flipping through the pages. The whole idea of totems, spirit animals, elements of the Earth and how every living thing is "linked" to something else is just not a common idea in today's society. I have a bit of a hard time figuring out how Kennens are supposed to work myself. Who is Senna supposed to be? On one hand, she's technically Sylvie. But on the other hand, most of the time, she's also herself. But that is exactly why I love this book. I love to learn about under represented cultures and belief systems. For those who embrace totemism, Maybe A Fox might as well be one of the very few books that tell a story of their people. That said, while I do love how it puts totemism under the spotlight for once, I worry this book did too little to inhibit over generalization. The way it is now, readers might as well assume everyone in Vermont is a totemist. Other than that, however, I really enjoy getting to know Senna.

The other major theme in this novel is coping with grief. Appelt and McGhee did a great job of depicting Jules' personal way of dealing with life after Sylvie. The sudden anger bursts, the yelling, the throwing, the screaming, the random little questions that suddenly matter so much because now you can never ask... Everything Jules went through felt so vivid and true, indicative of how connected the authors are to the story they're trying to tell. It is authenticity like this that can make a book serve as both a window and a mirror for its readers. On one hand, those who has experienced death could relate - or even feel comforted. On the other, those who have not might learn a thing or two. However, personally, what I like best is what the authors did not do. Unlike some other books and movies about grief, I don't find Appelt and McGhee injecting their own patronizing voice to teach readers how to grief. Too many books and movies heavily insist that when someone passed away, they're not really gone. "They stay in our hearts", or "they're watching you". This is also - kind of - the same message Maybe A Fox is getting at. But there's no push to believe it. Readers do not see Jules standing solemnly over The Slip with a smile on her face - no more tears roll down her eyes because she knows Sylvie is watching her. Nope. Jules still grieve. If anything, the book ends with yet another death. And thus: even more grief.

Death is a never-ending, natural, inevitable process. Everyone dies at some point, and there are deaths occurring all over the world every second of the day. It's painful. It's sad. It's heartbreaking. It's what it is. Not even the most gleaming, well-prepared, eloquent speech in the world can make someone stop grieving in a snap (like how some movies and books imply). So I'm glad how this book doesn't do a lot of silver-lining - if at all. It's great writing and touching story in one. Great book all in all.

3/25/2016
"The Mapmaker's Chronicle: Race to the End of the World" by A. L. Tait
Copyright 2014, 171 pages
Fantasy / Historical Fiction

Image taken from Goodreads

While set in a make-believe world with make-believe racial groups and make-believe countries, The Mapmaker Chronicles takes on a realistic time period when ideas that the globe is round was first raised. Thirst for knowledge urged countries - both in our real life and in the book - to send out explorers in huge ships mapping out territories never known before. At a glance, this book is yet another zero-to-hero story - as if we need more than we already have today. In this case, Quinn Freeman is a young farm boy who cooked and sew rather than doing heavy farm work. He was soon chosen to participate in a prestigious program where he competed - and outcompeted, because of course he did - sons of lords and noblemen. I found it rather interesting how the author conveniently skipped the part where Quinn was in Scribe School - perhaps knowing that it's redundant to tell. In fact, Quinn's whole experience in his school was described in this one short sentence: "the fact that Quinn had proved himself more than capable of keeping up in his class (which had surprised nobody more than Quinn himself) had only added to the problem" (p. 13-14). Translation: "of course he did well, and of course he's bullied for it. Next up!". Even with Quinn's explicit lack of confidence to be chosen as a mapmaker, atop his unwillingness to "go see the world" at the first place, the book fooled no one about how Quinn's story would later develop. At this point, the only thing that kept me flipping through the pages was Tait's sheer story-telling skills. The words she chose, on top of all, was one that charmed me from the very first page. Her way of describing things - be it people, scenery or an event, was detailed in its own unique way. Here is one paragraph where we were first introduced to Odilon of Blenheim: "The man standing next in line was quite a different proposition. Odilon of Blenheim looked ill at ease in his silk stockings, slippers and embossed velvet tunic. As well he might. Standing between two men dressed in worn leather breeches, simple hemp shirts and scuffed knee-high boots, he looked as out of place as a fish on a jetty. When he’d first presented as a candidate for the race, King Orel had looked at him askance. Why would this perfumed popinjay, particularly one so popular with the ladies, want to put himself through such danger and hardship?" (p. 30). To say that Tait uses big words is a total understatement. 

Some might find it confusing, or hard to read, but I like it that way. Maybe it's just the story's time setting. The funky, fancy words only made me feel like this book came straight out of the Middle Ages. Aside from the diction, however, the rest of the story soon exceeded my expectations. Quinn's "underdog" crew and their thrilling adventure is a lot more than just a zero-to-hero story (however much it appears to be so at first). It's about discovery, encountering fears, being patient, forgiving, trusting, regretting being trusting, huge white good-luck monster and hair-breadth escapes from death. Oh and my favorite: it's also about being open-minded. I love, love, love it how Zain repeatedly explained to the youngsters how the world is so much bigger than what they have seen. Simply because they have never seen it, doesn't mean all those strange things they encountered has never been there at the first place. I feel like this bit is still very much applicable today - where everyone has access to an accurate world map. Too many acted like the world ended in their borders. Too many are intolerant of different culture if it crossed their own. I suppose everyone needs to "go see the world" at least once in their lifetimes. 

Anyway. Back to the book. All in all, it's an enjoyable read. It did not start out great, but then there's this sudden rush of events that will engulf you and carry you with it - like a really big wave. Everything is so fast-paced. Before you can blink there's another new thing happening - making it impossible to put the book down. That said, I do wince at the tall tale side. And when I say "tall tale", I mean Quinn's exaggerated abilities. Photographic memory is not fiction. But learning a completely foreign language overnight definitely is. As someone studying Second Language Acquisition, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that bit. I do know this book is meant to be fantasy anyway, but that definitely-impossible language skill still bothered me nonetheless. Perhaps it's just the possibility of people believing that bit to be true - since it's depicted to be a part of Quinn's photographic memory which, again, is not fiction. There's also Nammu, the ginormous, one-horned, ghostly maybe-fish. In my head I imagined Nammu to be a narwhal. The book never did reveal if Nammu is just a big fish, a monster or a spirit, but for some reason I'm crossing my fingers and toes for Nammu to be a narwhal (or something else that is realistic). Again, I know this book is supposed to be fantasy anyway, but I do prefer if it keeps the realistic parts realistic. I just think it would seriously destroy my understanding of the universe if they decided to make sea monsters real. Not that Quinn's language skills already shaken it anyway. 

Now this particular book is only the first of the trilogy. So I have yet to find out the results of the race. Obviously I have no guess as to who will claim victory, but I'm honestly a lot more interested in whether or not we will reach the part where Quinn realized there's no such thing as Genesi - and that the Earth really is round. Because - just the way I hope Nammu is a narwhal - I sure wish they wouldn't decide to make "the flat Earth myth" a fact.

3/24/2016
"Duck for President" by Doreen Cronin
Copyright 2004, 32 pages
Fantasy

Picture taken from Goodreads

This book is quite a fun one. I do love the basic idea of it. That, and the repeated joke of vote tickets being stuck under the people's bottoms. However, I'm a little conflicted as to what message it is trying to convey. At first I thought Duck will surely go home to Farmer Brown and go back to doing his regular chores. If so, then the story will be all about "be grateful of what you have", seeing how Duck kept on running for higher and higher elections and hating every single one of his leadership jobs. But apparently not! He sat comfortably in front of his computer and wrote his autobiography. Assuming Duck enjoys his new life as an author, I really don't know what the story is trying to tell. Is the author telling us to keep on shooting for the stars even if you might not like it? Is it just all about how tiring being a president is?  Is it just a quick introduction to civic duty and how elections work? Or is this story all about being ungrateful - since Farmer Brown raised and cared for all his farm animals, yet they rebel (and overthrew him!) anyway? I can't even decide what I think this book is all about. It sure made me smile, though. 

3/24/2016
"The Pout Pout Fish" by Deborah Diesen
Copyright 2008, 32 pages
Fantasy

Image taken from Google Books

This book is a favorite among my students. It's funny, has lots of pictures, and generally easy to read. There are indeed big words here and there, but even without the big words students can still work out the story by looking at the pictures. The illustrations are cartoon-like, and as adorable as anything. Forget kids - even as an adult I find this book enjoyable. That said, I do wonder if the moral of this story is one I agree with. If we know someone who is a real-life, human version of Pout Pout Fish, chances are they're not exactly "pouting". They're probably stressed or depressed, and kissing them right in the face is probably not the best solution to cheer them up. Speaking of cheering people up, I also don't like how this book portrays that sad equals bad, and happy equals good. We are humans because we feel a multitude of emotions. Being restricted to only one emotion is not at all fair, nor is it the kind of mindset I want my students to develop. If we're talking about depression specifically, then this book represents the very stigma surrounding it. We see all the other fish in the ocean telling Pout Pout Fish to smile - to try harder to smile. There's even one fish that blatantly said that his sad face bothers everyone else. That is, sadly, exactly how most people with mental illness are treated in the society. Except there's no such thing as a big fish with red lipstick giving out free kisses in our real world. Meaning: there is no such thing as a finger-snap, immediate solution to depression. Being kind to your sad friends is a good starting point. But don't expect them to "cheer up". In fact, if the definition of "cheer up" is "laugh a lot and be social", then don't expect anyone to cheer up. Again: we are humans because we feel a multitude of emotions. It's alright if someone is introverted, or prefers to be alone. Sad is not bad!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

03/24/2016
"City Dog Country Frog" by Mo Willems
Copyright 2010, 64 pages
Anthropomorphic Fiction

Picture taken from goodreads.com

I read this book with one of my students during reading time. While he enjoys the story more, I personally like the illustrations a little better. The water color paintings are very realistic, making it easier to picture this story happening in real life. I also like how the author picked a dog and a frog of all animals - just because it's a little easier to pronounce together. Story-wise, I think this is one of those picture books that can spark a conversation. What happened to Country Frog? Did he lose a friend too when he first met City Dog? Does this mean no friendship lasts forever? Is that bad?

I always prefer books that allow readers to guess the moral behind the story rather than the ones that hand it out in a silver platter. This way I can engage more with the story and try to connect it with my own real life. In this case, I thought back to all the childhood friendships I've had and lost. All the people I used to endlessly talk to are now long-gone strangers. They have new friends now. So do I. That said, I'm an adult now. If I read this book as a nine-year old, would I make that connection? If not, what sort of message would I pull out of this story? At a quick glance from other people's reviews, there seems to be a general consensus that this book is "incredibly sad". My student, however, told me this book has a happy ending because City Dog made a new friend. So when I say this book sparks conversations, I really do mean it. Great book all around.