Crispin: The Cross of Lead (2003)-- Avi

What?!? This was the best children's book of 2003?! The style is so, so, so clunky that the book was really hard to get through with all the eye-rolling I was forced to do. The book tries to evoke a feeling of the past with long-winded descriptions and bizarre sentence structure:

"....[H]e reached over and took up his sack and rummaged through it. From it he took three balls, each made of stitched leather. To my surprise he tossed the balls in the air. Instead of falling on the ground, they stayed in the air and rotated at his will, with only the smallest touch and encouragement of his fingers."

Juggling. He is describing juggling. I suppose this passage is meant to convey Crispin's wonder at such an amazing feat, but it really just makes him sound like a pompous ass. The plot was rather interesting at first (although an enticing anti-religion theme kind of fizzled out disappointingly), but I ultimately didn't care what happened because I seriously loathed Crispin's narrative voice (and consequently Crispin).

The Cat Who Went to Heaven (1931)-- Elizabeth Coatsworth

This book was not what I expected at all--it's all about Buddhism, not St. Peter, pearly gates, and whatnot. A brief synopsis: a poor artist and his housekeeper get a cat. A bigwig from the local temple asks the artist to paint a picture of the Buddha's death, which is a big honor and could lead to some serious cash. The artist thinks a lot about Buddha and paints lots of animals in the scene, but not the cat, because apparently Buddha has an issue with a long ago feline not paying the proper respect and cats are thus not allowed in heaven. However, the artist paints the cat into the picture anyway, because it indicates that it really wants to be in the scene and is apparently pious, as it declines to pee on the work in progress or claw it to shreds. The cat is so happy to be in the painting that it immediately dies of joy overload. Then the temple bigwig takes the painting and burns it because there's a cat in it and Buddha hates cats, dammit! The end.

The Cat Who Went to Heaven holds up pretty well; I would never have guessed it was written so long ago. What I find puzzling is that this was considered a book for children. What is a kid supposed to get out of it? I have no idea. Today, this reads like a fable about the creative process that would beloved by the dangly-earringed members of an Artist's Way discussion group.

Dear Mr. Henshaw (1984)--Beverly Cleary

This one takes about 90 minutes, tops, to read in its entirety. The rundown: in 2nd grade, a boy named Leigh Boggs writes a letter to his favorite author. He continues to write to Mr. Henshaw throughout elementary school, and also begins keeping a journal. The letters and journal entries chronicle Leigh's struggles with his peers at school and his coming to terms with his parents' divorce; they also show his evolution from a little kid penciling an awkward letter to a budding young writer discovering his own voice.

A decent little read, but honestly, it's no Ramona and Her Father or Ramona Quimby, Age 8. (Can you tell I'm bitter these two Cleary masterpieces were dubbed mere Newbery Honor Books?)

The Witch of Blackbird Pond (1959)--Elizabeth George Speare

So, I started off with an old favorite--or at least one I remember liking a lot when I was ten or so.

I particularly remembered this part, toward the beginning: our heroine, Katherine "Kit" Tyler, is confronted by a New Englander about the evils of slavery. Her reaction? Total bewilderment. It's 1687, slavery is normal to her, and she's never even remotely considered the rightness or wrongness of it before. This made an impression on me as a kid, because not many historical fiction authors for children allow their protagonists to hold any misguided or prejudicial ideas whatsoever. And that always bugged me, because I knew mustache-twirling villains weren't the only ones who accepted slavery, child labor, sexism, segregation, etc. in the past. I appreciated a book that respected my intelligence enough to show that.

After rereading it as an adult, I'd still say The Witch of Blackbird Pond does a pretty admirable job of handling the 17th century subject matter without sugar-coating too much. 16-year-old Kit grew up on her wealthy grandfather's plantation in Barbados; after falling on some hard times, she goes to live with Puritan relatives in Connecticut. She's a stranger in a strange land--dressed in silk instead of homespun, used to reading and lounging instead of grinding cornmeal and carding wool. We're given a pretty balanced portrayal of the Puritans. Pluses: their work ethic, familial closeness, literacy, and resourcefulness. Minuses: their church services each last about 5,000 hours, they don't have much of a sense of humor, and--oh, yeah--they're convinced anyone who's different is a witch deserving of exile or possibly execution.

I will say the ending of this book is way, way too pat. Everything works out perfectly for everyone! They're all happy! Yay!! It's not at all plausible. I'm not saying I would have preferred to see the main characters end up swinging from the gallows…but something showing the lasting effects of a witch hunt on the community would have been a lot more interesting.

The Higher Power of Lucky (2007)--Susan Patron

This book owes a great debt to Beverly Cleary's Ramona series, and that's just fine by me. Lucky's basically a somewhat grittier Southwestern Ramona with more backstory. The plot is not terribly innovative (how many kids' books have had a "running away because of a big misunderstanding" storyline?), but the details keep you reading. The characters well-defined with just the right amount of quirk.

Dobry (1935)--Monica Shannon

Well, I sure picked a clunker to begin with. While I didn't hate this book, I found little in it that would be appealing to actual children; it's more like the kind of book that adults find charming and then foist upon children, who would much rather read a story in which something exciting happens. For while Dobry and his grandfather are filled with Zorba-the-Greek-ish zest for living, very little actually happens. They go to the mill to grind flour once, and there's much excitement about a gypsy bear that massages the village men's backs by walking on them (I have questions). And that's about it for action.

My main complaint about this book is that it's billed as being about Bulgarian peasant life, except we learn very little about it, except that the men wear large sashes and everyone's really into that bear.