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Ho ha!  So yesterday I met with the good folks of SLJ to discuss a Newbery/Caldecott related . . . something.  I can say no more at this time, but be prepared for a big time announcement on this blog soon.

But FIRST!  It is at last time for my final Newbery/Caldecott/what have you predictions.  The books have been percolating in my brain and by this time I’ve read most (I won’t say all since there might be a Moon Over Manifest winner lurking somewhere out there) of the contenders.  I’ve seen the Mocks.  I know what folks are saying.  For a fun time, see how I did last year.  It’s very fun picking out the winners on my lists to see where they rank.  This Is Not My Hat was particularly off . . .

And so . . . onward!!

For the book that I feel has the number one best chance of winning the 2014 Newbery Medal, my selection goes to . . .

Newbery Medal

The Year of Billy Miller by Kevin Henkes

You may recall that I’ve been beating the drum for Doll Bones by Holly Black all this time.  Now I leap into the air and do a complete spin, pointing instead at Henkes.  This is very much going to be a case of what kind of committee we’re dealing with.  I’d say that most Newbery committees are comprised of members who really enjoy complex and literary children’s books.  And that’s fine.  That’s natural.  The danger is that simple books, books that have the ability to say quite a lot in a very few words, get lost in the shuffle.  Billy Miller is one of these simple books.  And the more I think about it, the more impressive it becomes to me.

And then there are the books that I think have a really good shot at an Honor or two.  My thinking?  Something along the lines of

Newbery Honors

Doll Bones by Holly Black – As you can see by this handy dandy chart, this is the book that has appeared on the most Mock Newberys around the country.  Once my best beloved and surest chance, now I’m not so sure.  Personally, I think it has the chops to go all the way, but some are iffy on it.  In the end it may come down to something as simplistic as to whether or not the committee honestly thinks that Black was trying for horror or not.  To my mind it’s obvious that she’s using the tropes but keeping it kid-friendly and with BIG themes in mind.  We shall see.

The Thing About Luck by Cynthia Kadohata – If I fell down on the job not reviewing a book this year, it would be this one.  Its National Book Award win certainly gave me pause, and then I sat down and examined what my problem was with it.  Basically, it’s the threshing.  The interminable threshing.  Kadohata occasionally stops the action dead to tell you, for pages at a time, about the process of threshing.  To my mind, that pause in the narrative kills it for me Medal-wise.  But then I went back and looked at the characters and over time I’ve been convinced that it really is a strong little number.  So I’m calling it for an Honor.  Don’t know if it’ll go all the way, but it would sure be nice.  If it does win the gold it’ll be the first book to win both a National Book Award and a Newbery Award since Holes.  So, y’know.  No pressure.

Yup.  I’m only seeing three potential winning books.  We’ve had years like this, where the Honors are few and far between.  My favorite years are the ones where there are as many Honors as possible, but they’re rare.

Note that while I’ve heard a lot of people say that 2013 was a strong year for nonfiction, they don’t mean in terms of Newbery books.  The only title that would have a chance would be Courage Has No Color, and looking at past years I don’t see it getting the attention it deserves.  But I would LOVE to be wrong, folks!

Then there are the Newbery Wild Cards that might take it all away:

Wild Cards

Hokey Pokey by Jerry Spinelli  - Early in 2013 I would have said this was a shoo-in.  Now?  I’m not so sure.  The question comes down to whether or not the committee understands what Spinelli is going for and, more to the point, thinks he succeeds.  In a recent conversation with a buddy we came to the realization that if 2013 had a theme it was of children entering adolescence.  This book discusses it.  Doll Bones discusses it.  Picture Me Gone by Meg Rosoff, for crying out loud, discusses it (we tried extrapolating this into the picture books for Caldecott but it didn’t really work).  At any rate, I still think it’s a strong contender.

The Real Boy by Anne Ursu – This has the feel of my The One and Only Ivan prediction of last year.  I think it’s very strong but I’ve also heard from a lot of folks who don’t much care for what Ursu’s doing here.  I think it’s stronger than Breadcrumbs (which I loved) so it has a real shot.  At the same time, Ursu is usually ignored by award committees that should be lavishing her with pennies and praise.  Then again again it was nominated for a National Book Award this year.  Could this be The Year of the Ursu?

Africa Is My Home: A Child of the Amistad by Monica Edinger – Don’t discount Monica.  She may have debuted with a book that infused its fictional text with nonfiction but that’s to her credit.  It was a risky game and the final product can only fulfill that most difficult of Newbery criteria: distinguished.  It’s up to the committee to determine if the book works as a piece of writing.

Locomotive by Brian Floca – Because, and let’s face it, if it won a Newbery Honor (which it really and truly and honestly could) that would be an upset of the best possible kind.

Where the Heck Is . . . ?

Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan – Definitely a strong debut, no question.  And this book had moments in it that I’ll never forget, no matter how long I live (three words: closet of underwear).  That said, there are some elements that don’t quite work for me on this one.  Consider, for example, the ambiguous nature of Willow’s race which appears to have been thrown in solely to keep folks from complaining about the fact that people of every other race bend over backwards to help her.  It’s just little things like that.  Then again, the book racked up four starred reviews, so what the heck do I know?

P.S. Be Eleven by Rita Williams-Garcia – You know those Oscar Award winners who don’t win for their best work but later in their careers as way of apology?  That could easily happen here.  Let’s face facts.  One Crazy Summer was a once in a lifetime book, and the fact that it didn’t take home the gold still makes me red in the face with anger.  But what’s done is done.  This book, which has a lot of lovely elements, didn’t punch me in the gut in the same way.  I liked elements of it.  Months and months later I can still remember it very well.  But for Newbery?  I’m not seeing it this time around.

The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp by Kathi Appelt – Over at Heavy Medals they’re have conniption fits over this book.  Something about the voice, and they’re not the only ones.  When I attended BookFest at the Bank Street College of Education this year, this book was included in a room discussion of “divisive” 2013 publications.  I didn’t see it.  To me, it’s simply a hugely charming animal story with a few Bonnie and Clyde hogs thrown in for good measure.  Is it too cartoony to win a Newbery?  Possibly.  Bad guys defeated by snakes aren’t the threats they might be, after all.  That said, if it does win a Newbery (and that would be awfully nice) I insist that the Newbery/Caldecott Banquet serve cane sugar pies as dessert.  I am not joking about this.

The Water Castle by Megan Frazer Blakemore – *sigh*  Fine.  I’ll take it off my list.  I really and truly did love it.  But I’ve faced down enough folks who don’t share my enthusiasm to know that it’s a bit of a long shot.  Still, it warms the cold cockles of my heart to see it on so many Mock Newbery lists out there.  That means it’s being read in droves.  My job here is done.

Flora and Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo – Folks wondered last time why I didn’t include this one, particularly since my review of it made it clear that I think it’s probably one of our newly minted National Ambassador of Young People’s Literature’s best.  Well, maybe it comes down to what the committee thinks about humor on the whole.  Usually when DiCamillo wins it’s for books that are a bit more serious.  This one involves a superhuman squirrel with a penchant for poetry.  But even that would be enough to carry it to the finish line . . . if it weren’t for the illustrated sections.  You see, a Newbery winner has to rely on words alone.  If there’s visual storytelling that shoulders the load of the plot at any point, it’s probably going to be considered invalid.  Consarn it.

As for my number one Caldecott Award pick?  I’m not going to surprise anybody out there when I say it’s all about the . . .

Caldecott Medal

Journey by Aaron Becker – It has a pretty good chance.  Weirdo concerns about concealed weapons aside, let’s consider the Caldecott Award criteria, shall we?  The Medal is to go to “the most distinguished American picture book for children.”  Now there are lots of books out there that were good.  Some you could even call “excellent”.  But for the lofty description of “most distinguished” I don’t know how you can look anywhere else.  The question is, are we dealing with a Lion and the Mouse Caldecott year (which is to say, a year where everyone independently determines this to be the winner) or is it more of a This Is Not My Hat year where the book gets drowned in other possibilities?  It all remains to be seen.

As for the Honors, there are some distinct possibilities:

Caldecott Honors

Locomotive by Brian Floca – I haven’t seen such universal acclaim for a picture book work of nonfiction in years.  There is a possibility that Floca could pull a Snowflake Bentley on us and win the Gold.  I would not object one jot.  History suggests that nonfiction Caldecott wins are rare beasties, but dare to dream, sez I!  More likely, though, it’ll Honor.  Not that the committees of years past have ever given Floca his dear due.  I mentioned earlier that I’m still peeved about the fact that One Crazy Summer never won a gold.  Well Moonshot, Floca’s brilliant (and I don’t use that word lightly) look at the Apollo mission got bupkiss the year it came out.  No Caldecott in sight.  Still fuming about that one.

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild by Peter Brown – Actually, Peter could run away with the gold this year very easily.  Who knew that in the final moments it would potentially all come down to a debut wordless book on the one hand and a dandified tiger on the other?  The art is fabulous here, but it’s how well it pairs with the language that makes it as good as it is.

The Dark by Lemony Snicket, illustrated by Jon Klassen – Klassen could potentially do a two year sweep of the awards, but I kind of hope he doesn’t.  It’s not that I don’t like the guy.  I adore him.  And it’s not that this isn’t a good book.  It’s really well done.  Seemingly simple on a first glance, there are loads of details hidden that just make you gasp when you read through on a fourth or fifth or sixth look.  I mean, were YOU aware of the lightbulb and how it relates to the lightbulb on the next page?  That said, while it’s really clever I don’t know if it has the heart to pull off a gold win.  An honor is far more likely.

The Matchbox Diary by Paul Fleischman, ill. Bagram Ibatoulline – Artists like Bagram Ibatoulline often get shunted into the category of Magnificent Artists Who Will Never Win Big Awards.  Barbara McClintock and some other folks often find themselves there.  To the best of my knowledge he’s never gotten a Caldecott of his very own.  Well maybe this year will be the year!  Pairing him with Fleischman was brilliant on somebody’s part.  The technical artistry required to do this book is almost over the top (the fact that these aren’t photographs alone should be enough to cause one’s jaw to drop in a downward manner).  But more than that, I felt like this book really had some serious heart.  And isn’t that what picture books are all about anyway?

And the Wild Cards?

Wild Cards

Mr. Wuffles by David Wiesner – Personally, I thought it was a hoot.  Aliens and cats and ants and all that.  Really a lovely piece of work from start to finish.  The question is how well it reads from panel to panel.  Though Wiesner’s books have always relied on visual storytelling to different degrees, this is the most cartoonish of his stories.  And depending on how fond the committee is of comics, that’s going to make all the difference in the world.

The Boy Who Loved Math: The Improbable Life of Paul Erdos by Deborah Heiligman, illustrated by LeUyen Pham – Because in a perfect world Ms. Pham would get at least SOME credit for how brilliantly she incorporated math into the art.  Is that something a Caldecott committee will consider?  Maybe not, but it sure as heck can’t hurt.  It’s not easy, and this book is definitely “distinguished” as a result.

Stardines Swim High Across the Sky by Jack Prelutsky, illustrated by Carin Berger – How is this not better known?  How are people not constantly talking about it?  Why do I feel like I’m in an echo chamber over here?  I’ve resigned myself to the fact that few love this book as much as I do, but y’all’re crazy.  This book rocks!

The Mighty LaLouche by Matthew Olshan, ill. Sophie Blackall – One of these days, Sophie’s going to surprise us all and get herself a Caldecott.  And maybe this is the year.  Maybe . . .

The sad thing?  I can’t be the only person who noticed that my Wild Cards are mostly women while my predictions are all male.  Doggone it.  Bad blogger!  No cookie for you!

Where the Heck Is . . . ?

Building Our House by Jonathan Bean – I’m not sure why I can’t commit to this one.  I love Bean.  Have loved his work for years.  I’m so happy to see him working again.  But this book felt almost too personal to me.  I’m not saying that certain kids won’t love it (I was actually thinking of checking it out for my kiddo, who’s into the idea of building houses right now).  I just don’t know how it’ll stack up in the Caldecott committee discussions.

And that wraps that up.

Say, do you like charts?  Then be sure to check out the following:

• Travis Jonker made this great chart of Publication Months of Newbery Award Winning Books.

• He also made this chart on the likelihood that a Newbery winner will win again.

• And this one on the average number of starred reviews.

• Here’s one for the Printz on the average number of starred reviews.

• And finally don’t forget this post, which culled info from all the available Mock Newberys.

So where have I erred tragically?  Correct me!

The Real Boy
By Anne Ursu
Illustrated by Erin McGuire
Walden Pond Press (an imprint of Harper Collins)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-06-201507-5
Ages 9-12
On shelves now

My two-year-old is dealing with the concept of personhood. Lately she’s taken to proclaiming proudly “I’m a person!” when she has successfully mastered something. By the same token, failure to accomplish even the most mundane task is met with a dejected, “I’m not a person”. This notion of personhood and what it takes to either be a person or not a person reminded me a fair amount of Anne Ursu’s latest middle grade novel The Real Boy. There aren’t many children’s books that dare to delve into the notion of what it means to be a “real” person. Whole hosts of kids walk through their schools looking around, wondering why they aren’t like the others. There’s this feeling often that maybe they were made incorrectly, or that everyone else is having fun without them because they’re privy to some hitherto unknown secret. Part of what I love about Anne Ursu’s latest is that it taps directly into that fear, creating a character that must use his wits to defeat not only the foes that beset him physically, but the ones in his own head that make even casual interactions a difficulty.

Oscar should be very grateful. It’s not every orphan who gets selected to aid a magician as talented as Master Caleb. For years Oscar has ground herbs for Caleb, studiously avoiding the customers that come for his charms, as well as Caleb’s nasty apprentice Wolf. Oscar is the kind of kid who’d rather pore over his master’s old books rather than deal with the frightening conversations a day in his master’s shop might entail. All that changes the day Wolf meets with an accident and Caleb starts leaving the shop more and more. A creature has been spotted causing awful havoc and the local magic workers should be the ones to take care of the problem. So why aren’t they? When Oscar is saved from the role of customer service by an apprentice named Callie, the two strike up an unlikely friendship and seek to find not just the source of the disturbance but also the reason why some of the rich children in the nearby city have been struck by the strangest of diseases.

Though Ms. Ursu has been around for years, only recently have her books been attracting serious critical buzz. I was particularly drawn to her novel retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen” last year in the form of the middle grade novel Breadcrumbs. So naturally, when I read the plot description and title of The Real Boy I assumed that the story would be some kind of retelling of the “Pinocchio” tale. As it turns out, there is the faintest whiff of Pinocchio circling this story, but it is by no means a strict model. As one of the librarians in my system put it, “I am scarred for life by Pinocchio (absolutely abhor any tale relating to inanimate objects longing to become real to the point where I find it creepy) but did not find this disturbing in the least.” Truth be told it would have been easy enough for Ursu to crank up the creepy factor if she had wanted to. But rather than clutter the text up with unnecessary disgust, the story is instead clean, fast, exciting, and to the point. And for all that it is 352 pages or so, you couldn’t cut it down.

There have been a fair number of novels and books for children this year that have been accused of being written with adults rather than children in mind. I’ve fielded concerns about everything from Bob Graham’s The Silver Button to Cynthia Rylant’s God Got a Dog to Sharon Creech’s The Boy on the Porch. Interestingly, folks have not lobbed the same criticisms at The Real Boy, for which I am grateful. Certainly it would be easy to see the title in that light. Much of the storyline hinges on the power of parental fear, the sometimes horrific lengths those same parents will go to to “protect” their young, and the people who prey on those fears. Parents, teachers, and librarians that read this book will immediately recognize the villainy at work here, but kids will perceive it on an entirely different level. While the adults gnash their teeth at the bad guy’s actions, children will understand that the biggest villain in this book isn’t a person, but Oscar’s own perceptions of himself. To defeat the big bad, our hero has to delve deep down into his own self and past, make a couple incorrect assumptions, and come out stronger in the end.

He is helped in no small part by Callie. I feel bad that when in trying to define a book I feel myself falling back on what it doesn’t do rather than what it does do. Still, I think it worth noting that in the case of Callie she isn’t some deux ex machina who solves all of Oscar’s problems for him. She helps him, certainly. Even gets angry and impatient with him on occasion, but she’s a real person with a personal journey of her own. She isn’t just slapped into the narrative to give our hero a necessary foil. The same could be said of the baker, a fatherly figure who runs the risk of becoming that wise adult character that steps in when the child characters are flailing about. Ursu almost makes a pointed refusal to go to him for help, though. It’s as if he’s just there to show that not all adults in the world are completely off their rockers. Just most, it would seem.

There’s one more thing the book doesn’t do that really won my admiration, but I think that by even mentioning it here I’m giving away an essential plot point. Consider this your official spoiler alert, then. If you have any desire to read this book on your own, please do yourself a favor and skip this paragraph. All gone? Good. Now a pet peeve of mine that I see from time to time and think an awfully bad idea is when a character appears to be on the autism spectrum of some sort, and then a magical reason for that outsider status comes up. One such fantasy I read long ago, the autistic child turned out to be a fairy changeling, which explained why she was unable to communicate with other people. While well intentioned, I think this kind of plot device misses the point. Now one could make the case for Oscar as someone who is on “the spectrum”. However, the advantage of having such a character in a fantasy setting is that there’s no real way to define his status. Then, late in the book, Oscar stumbles upon a discovery that gives him a definite impression that he is not a human like the people around him. Ursu’s very definite choice to then rescind that possibility hammered home for me the essential theme of the book. There are no easy choices within these pages. Just very real souls trying their best to live the lives they want, free from impediments inside or outside their very own selves.

I’ve heard a smattering of objections to the book at this point that are probably worth looking into. One librarian of my acquaintance expressed some concern about Ursu’s world building. She said that for all that she plumbs the depths of character and narrative with an admirable and enviable skill, they never really felt that they could “see” the world that she had conjured. I suspect that some of this difficulty might have come from the fact that the librarian read an advanced reader’s copy of the book without the benefit of the map of Aletheia in the front. But maybe their problem was bigger than simple geography. Insofar as Ms. Ursu does indulge in world building, it’s a world within set, tight parameters. The country is an island with a protected glittering city on the one hand and a rough rural village on the other. Much like a stage play, Ursu’s storyline is constricted within the rules she’s set for herself. For readers who prefer the wide all-encompassing lands you’d see in a Tolkien or Rowling title, the limitations might feel restrictive.

Now let us not, in the midst of all this talky talk, downplay the importance of illustrator Erin McGuire. McGuire and Ursu were actually paired together once before on the underappreciated Breadcrumbs. I had originally read the book in a form without the art, and it was pleasant in and of itself. McGuire’s interstitial illustrations, however, really serve to heighten the reader’s enjoyment. The pictures are actually relatively rare, their occasional appearances feeling like nothing so much as a delicious chocolate chip popping up in a sea of vanilla ice cream. You never know when you’ll find one, but it’s always sweet when you do.

Breadcrumbs, for all that I personally loved it, was a difficult book for a lot of folks to swallow. In it, Ursu managed to synthesize the soul-crushing loneliness of Hans Christian Andersen’s tales, and the results proved too dark for some readers. With The Real Boy the source material, if you can even call it that, is incidental. As with all good fantasies for kids there’s also a fair amount of darkness here, but it’s far less heavy and there’s also an introspective undercurrent that by some miracle actually appears to be interesting to kids. Whodathunkit? Wholly unexpected with plot twists and turns you won’t see coming, no matter how hard you squint, Ursu’s is a book worth nabbing for your own sweet self. Grab that puppy up.

Source: Galley sent from publisher for review.

Like This? Then Try:

• Changeling by Delia Sherman

• Jinx by Sage Blackwood

• The Mostly True Story of Jack by Kelly Barnhill

The Water Castle
By Megan Frazer Blakemore
Illustrated by Jim Kay
Walker Books for Young Readers (an imprint of Bloomsbury)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-8027-2839-5
Ages 9-12
On shelves now

Where does fantasy stop and science fiction begin? Is it possible to ever draw a distinct line in the sand between the two? A book with a name like The Water Castle (mistakenly read by my library’s security guard as “White Castle”) could fall on either side of the equation, though castles generally are the stuff of fantastical fare. In this particular case, however, what we have here is a smart little bit of middle grade chapter book science fiction, complete with arson, obsession, genetic mutation, and a house any kid would kill to live in. Smarter than your average bear, this is one book that rewards its curious readers. It’s a pleasure through and through.

Welcome to Crystal Springs, Maine where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average. That last part seems to be true, anyway. When Ephraim Appledore, his two siblings, his mom, and his father (suffering from the after effects of a stroke) move to town he’s shocked to find that not only does everyone seem to know more about his family history than he does, they’re all geniuses to boot. The Appledores have taken over the old Water Castle built by their ancestors and harboring untold secrets. When he’s not exploring it with his siblings Ephraim finds two unlikely friends in fellow outcast Mallory Green and would-be family feuder Will Wylie. Together they discover that the regional obsession with the fountain of youth may have some basis in reality. A reality that the three of them are having trouble facing, for individual reasons.

When one encounters an old dusty castle hiding trapdoors and secret passageways around every corner, that usually means your feet are planted firm in fantasy soil. All the elements are in place with Ephraim akin to Edwin in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and a dusty old wardrobe even making a cheeky cameo at one point. What surprised me particularly was the book’s grounding instead in science fiction. That said, how far away from fantasy is science fiction in children’s literature? In both cases the fantastical is toyed with. In this particular case, eternal life finds its basis in discussions of mutant genes, electricity, radiation, and any number of other science-based theories. Interestingly, it’s actually hard to come up with many children’s books that even dwell on the fountain of youth. There’s Tuck Everlasting of course, but that’s about as far as it goes. One gets the impression that Babbitt did such a good job with the idea that no one’s had the guts to take it any farther since. Kudos to Blakemore then for rising to the challenge.

I’m very partial to children’s books that are magical if you want them to be and realistic if that’s what you’d prefer. This year’s Doll Bones by Holly Black, for example, could be an uber-creepy horror story or it could just be a tale of letting your imagination run away with you. Similarly The Water Castle could be about the true ramifications of eternal life, or it could be explained with logic and reason every step of the way. I was also rather interested in how Ms. Blakemore tackled that age-old question of how to allow your child heroes the freedom to come and go as they please without a droplet of parental supervision. In this case her solution (father with a stroke and a mother as his sole caretaker) not only worked effectively but also tied in swimmingly into our hero’s personal motivations.

In the midst of a review like this I sometimes have a bad habit of failing to praise the writing of a book. That would be a particular pity in this case since Ms. Blakemore sucked me in fairly early on. When Ephraim and his family drive into town for the first time we get some beautiful descriptions of the small town itself. “They rolled past the Wylie Five and Dime, which was advertising a sale on gourds, Ouija boards, and pumpkin-pie filling.” She also has a fine ear for antiquated formal speech, though the physical appearances of various characters are not of particular importance to her (example: we don’t learn that Ephraim’s little sister Brynn is blond until page 183).

An interesting aspect of the writing is its tackling of race, racism, and historical figures done wrong by their times. I was happy from the get-go that Ms. Blakemore chose to make her cast a multi-cultural one. Mallory is African-American, one of the few in town, and is constantly being offered subjects like Matthew Henson for class reports because . . . y’know. Henson himself plays nicely into a little subplot in the book. Deftly Ms. Blakemore draws some similarities between his work with Robert Peary and Tesla’s attitude towards Edison. Nothing too direct. Just enough information where kids can connect the dots themselves. For all this, I was a bit disappointed that when we read some flashbacks into the past there doesn’t seem to be ANY racism in sight. We follow the day-to-day activities of an African-American girl and the various rich white people she encounters and yet only ONE mention is made of their different races in a vague reference to the fact that our heroine’s family has never been slaves. This seemed well-intentioned but hugely misleading. Strange to discuss Henson and Peary in one breath and then ignore everyday realities on the other.

If the book has any other problems there is the fact that the author leaves the essential question about the mysterious water everyone searches for in this story just that. Mysterious. There are also some pretty heady clues dropped about Mallory’s own parents that remain unanswered by the tale’s end. Personally, I am of the opinion that Ms. Blakemore did this on purpose for the more intelligent of her child readers. I can already envision children’s bookgroups discussing this title at length, getting into arguments about what exactly it means that Mallory’s mom had that key around her neck.

In the end, The Water Castle is less about the search for eternal life and youth than it is about letting go of childhood and stories. Age can come when you put those things away. As Ephraim ponders late in the game, “No one back in Cambridge would believe that he’d been crawling around in dark tunnels, or climbing up steps with no destination. Maybe, he decided, growing up meant letting go of the stories, letting go in general, letting yourself fall just to see if you could catch yourself. And he had.” Whether or not Ms. Blakemore chooses to continue this book with the further adventures of Ephraim, Mallory and Will, she’s come up with a heckuva smart little creation. Equally pleasing to science fiction and fantasy fans alike, there’s enough meat in this puppy for any smart child reader or bored kid bookgroup. I hope whole droves of them find it on their own. And I hope they enjoy it thoroughly. A book that deserves love.

On shelves now.

Source: Final copy sent from publisher for review.

Like This? Then Try:
Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
The House of Dies Drear by Virginia Hamilton
When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

Notes on the Cover: Is that or is that not a fantasy cover? The ivy strangled stone gargoyles and castle in the background all hint at it. I wasn’t overly in love with this jacket at first, but in time I’ve discovered that kids are actually quite drawn to it. Whether or not they find it misleading, time will tell. Not having read the bookflap description of this title, I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to turn the kids on the cover into Ephraim and his siblings. It was quite a while before I realized my mistake.

Professional Reviews:

• A star from Kirkus
• Publishers Weekly
• The Wall Street Journal
• Jack and Jill

Other Blog Reviews: Cracking the Cover

Interviews: Portland Press Herald

Misc: Check out the Teacher’s Guide for this book.

Man, isn’t it nice when the award season has died down and we don’t have to deal with any more crazed speculations about who’s “Newbery worthy” or “Caldecott worthy” or any of that nuttiness?  We can just sit back and enjoy some books and not . . . not worry about . . . *gulp* . . . ah . . . . grk . . . .

I CANTS TAKES IT NO MORE!!!!

It’s March.  Heck, it’s spring.  Practically.  And so here we have loads of books, TONS of the things, out there and circulating and taking up brain space and all of them just begging to be speculated upon.  If it is too early in the season for this, I more than understand.  Skip this post.  Have some cocoa.  Come back in the fall.  But if you, like me, just can’t get enough of this stuff, enjoy.

First up, we are visited by the Ghost of Spring Predictions of the Newbery/Caldecott Past.  This is always fun.  Check it out:

2008 spring predictions: I get one Caldecott right (How I Learned Geography)

2009 spring predictions: I get two Newberys right (The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate and The (Mostly) True Adventures of Homer P Figg)

2010 spring predictions: I get one Newbery right (One Crazy Summer)

2011 spring predictions: I get one Newbery right (Inside Out and Back Again)

2012 spring predictions: I get two Newberys right (The One and Only Ivan and Splendors and Glooms), and one Caldecott right (Green).  I’m getting better in my old age!  Woot!

We could speculate about what this means about the publishing industry and when they choose to release books, but I’d rather get to the meat of the matter.  And I should warn you, I’m finding 2014 to be a VERY strong year in contenders.  Newbery anyway.

En garde!

2014 Newbery Predictions

Doll Bones by Holly Black – I am reminded of the year that Silence of the Lambs won an Oscar.  That’s the only equivalent I can come up with if this book took home Newbery gold.  The writing is superlative, but also creepy as all get out.  More so than the relatively recent Newbery winner The Graveyard Book, anyway.  But if Gaiman can win . . .

The Water Castle by Megan Frazer Blakemore – It looks for all the world like a fantasy novel when you see the cover, but what you’ll find inside is just the nicest little science fiction novel.  I can’t tell if it’s the first in a series or a standalone book that trusts the reader to pick up on certain clever clues.  Whatever the case, it’s a brilliant companion to Tuck Everlasting (which, admittedly, never won a Newbery).

The Bully Book by Eric Kahn Gale – If you’re anything like me then you’re sick to death of bully related books.  All the more reason to admire Gale’s for having the guts to take a tired, worn subject and inject some much needed life into it.  Gale’s topic pales in the face of his delivery.  It reads more like a mystery novel than anything else (with a bit of noir on the side) so expect it to take home an Edgar award at the end of the year at the very least.

Hokey Pokey by Jerry Spinelli – Already one of two thoroughly divisive Newbery contenders.  I was enthralled by it but stepping back I’m interested in the child responses.  Will the “Ulysses of children’s literature” be too much for them?  Is the writing distinguished regardless?  Yes to the latter, not sure on the former.  At the very least, everyone’s going to have to read this one.

Courage Has No Color, the True Story of the Triple Nickles: America’s First Black Paratroopers by Tonya Lee Stone – She sort of specializes in crushed dreams but in this particular book I think Stone has outdone herself.  The sheer subtlety of the writing has to be worth something.  Jonathan Hunt brought up a question of whether or not the book sets you up to expect action.  I think that’s rather the point.

One Came Home by Amy Timberlake – A book I continually want to call “One Came Back”, for some reason.  My brain is weird.  If you think Hokey Pokey‘s a divisive topic then you haven’t sat in on some of the Timberlake talks I’ve witnessed.  It’s full of life and vitality, and like Gale’s book could also find itself nominated for an Edgar this year.  It’s the kind of historical fiction I like to read.  The question is whether or not it’ll be the kind of historical fiction the committee likes to read.  No clue on that one.

The Center of Everything by Linda Urban – My frontrunner.  Maybe.  I go back and forth but there’s no denying that Urban gets better and better with each book and that this one is, if you’ll forgive a tired phrase, a gem.  Or maybe I was just enthralled by the short page count.  Whatever the case, it’s smart and to the point and just lovely from start to finish.  ADORE.

2014 Caldecott Predictions

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild by Peter Brown – Ladies and gentlemen of the jury I submit to you the following evidence here and here.  Now that the man has won a Caldecott Honor we know that he is capable of even more.  There’s a distinct Rousseau-like quality to this book.  Peter Brown, like Linda Urban, gets better with each passing book.  Remember this one when it comes out in the fall.

The Boy Who Loved Math: The Improbable Life of Paul Erdos by Deborah Heiligman, illustrated by LeUyen Pham – In an era of Common Core Standards and increased attention on nonfiction, why can’t a book on math and a mathematician win the highest Honor in the land?  Sometimes I fear that there are certain talented artists that are passed over by the award committees each and every year without fail for no reason other than the fact that they’ve been passed over before.  And if anyone deserves a medal it’s Ms. Pham.  She’s a delight.  So is her art.  So is this book.

Stardines Swim High Across the Sky by Jack Prelutsky, illustrated by Carin Berger – Just a second.  I’m trying to envision how Mr. Prelutsky would react upon learning that one of his books had won a Caldecott this late in the game.  Wouldn’t that be rad (mentioning a poet from my youth apparently causes me to break out the late 1980s jargon)?  Berger, for her part, went above and beyond the call of duty when she created the art for this book.  Models do NOT fare well in Caldecott races, but certainly an exception can be made once in a while, yes yes?

Unicorn Thinks He’s Pretty Great by Bob Shea – But only if there were any justice in the universe.  Which, last time I checked, there is not.

The Dark by Lemony Snicket, illustrated by Jon Klassen – Like Peter Brown, Jon “I just won an Honor and an Award in the same year” Klassen is now considered verifiable Caldecott bait.  Admittedly this book is subtler than his previous fare and there’s a lot of black space.  I think a forward thinking committee, however, could have a lot of fun parsing where exactly he chose to put one shadow or another.  Worthy of discussion, at the very least.

Mr. Wuffles by David Wiesner – I’m just going to imagine for a moment what it would be like to hear lofty librarians parsing the merits of something with a name like “Mr. Wuffles” amongst themselves.  It’s a return to form for Wiesner, as weird and wacky and funny as they come.  However, he may have handicapped himself by making the book in a comic book style complete with speech balloons.  A certain breed of adult reader would have some definite problems with the layouts and action.  That said, you have GOT to see this puppy.  Nothing else out there is like it.

And that’s the long and short of it.  Something for your What To Read Next lists in any case.  And as ever, be sure to check out Jonathan Hunt’s 2014 reading list, when you’ve a chance.