a place to hang the moon

There are lots of excellent books for children out in the world. I would define "excellent" in a couple of different ways, but to really earn the title, a book should be interesting, funny, heartwarming (or in general make you feel some true emotion deeply). And a book needn't have all of the above, but it should have SOME of these elements. Kate Albus' middle grade novel A Place to Hang the Moon got just about the highest recommendation I could think of a few years ago from a trusted source (a fellow Cybils judge) online, so I immediately bought it. It then sat unread on my shelf for three years. *crying emoji* Luckily, a young person I know and love just turned ten and is a voracious reader, just like the characters in this book, so I picked up off the shelf and finally read it... so that we could have a wonderful chat about it when she does. And now that I know personally how lovely it is, I can't wait to see what she thinks.

 

It is 1940 and William, 12, Edmund, 11, and Anna, 9, aren’t terribly upset by the death of the not-so-grandmotherly grandmother who has taken care of them since their parents died.

But the children do need a guardian, and in the dark days of World War II London, those are in short supply, especially if they hope to stay together. Could the mass wartime evacuation of children from London to the countryside be the answer?

It’s a preposterous plan, but off they go– keeping their predicament a secret, and hoping to be placed in a temporary home that ends up lasting forever. Moving from one billet to another, the children suffer the cruel trickery of foster brothers, the cold realities of outdoor toilets and the hollowness of empty stomachs.

But at least they find comfort in the village lending library– a cozy shelter from the harshness of everyday life, filled with favorite stories and the quiet company of Nora Müller, the kind librarian.  The children wonder if Nora could be the family they’ve been searching for... But the shadow of the war, and the unknown whereabouts of Nora’s German husband complicate matters. 

A Place to Hang the Moon is a story about the importance of family: the one you’re given, and the one you choose.

Anna, Edmund, and William (listed in order from youngest to oldest, and William at a lofty 12-years-old!) are siblings growing up in the midst of London during World War II. They've been sheltered while living at their grandmother's house (because they are orphans), but now she's dead as well and they don't have a guardian. Never mind the bombs being dropped by German planes! So, they join a troop of kids from a nearby school and are evacuated to the countryside. An unlikely goal also resides in their hearts – to find a forever home in their billet, with a family who thinks "hang the moon," as their dead parents used to say. Of course, wanting something and making it happen are two different things.

Although Albus doesn't describe the countryside sparsely, per se, she saves her description mostly for interior scenes (with a few notable exceptions – rat-catching, for one!), and so most of the book indoor activities and interpersonal interactions. It is through these interactions that the reader really takes the measure of the siblings. William, responsible, solid, and a little bit anxious – made into a parent for his younger siblings and feeling the strain. Edmund, irrepressible and without filter, and with a strong sense of justice (and injustice). Anna still with some little girl softness and optimism that William especially doesn't want to crush. These children are thrust into life as evacuees, with no backup plan, and so they make the best of it – experiencing sometimes wonderful and at times awful things in search of a forever home.

 

One thing the author does particularly well is to incorporate books and a love of reading (and there are different flavors of this in each of the children) into the book in general. Allusions to the books that would have been popular in the 1940s are woven throughout the story and suffuse the book with a warmth and sense of time that makes it feel, as much as a modern book can, of that era. I told a friend of mine that it has Narnia vibes. There isn't a magic wardrobe, but the sibling adventures (and squabbles, of course) as well as the countryside away from the bombing and without parents – these things align. The mentions of A Little Princess throughout mirrored the wish-fulfillment that the children experienced, and heightened the emotional weight of the story. Albus knows how to turn on the waterworks. Also, I want to assure you, dear reader, that yes, there is a happy ending!

Something I am always thinking of, as an IB teacher, is who the intended audience of a text is, and how that may change its meaning. As an adult, I am not the intended audience for this story, but I found it extremely charming, cozy, and heartwarming. I believe its intended audience will find it an adventure and a half – American youngsters typically won't have experience (or even generational knowledge of) with gas masks, evacuations, rat-catching, victory gardens, and more. But with such a lovely story attached, they may become curious about these foreign objects and activities and end up enamored with the time period and/or historical fiction in general. 

In all, A Place to Hang the Moon is a cozy, heart-wrenching gem of a story that calls back to the classics of the middle grade genre. 

Recommended for: young people ages 8 and up who like sibling stories, adventures, and who understand the joy of reading a good book. Would be an excellent bedtime read aloud as well, for children ages 7 and up.

mortal follies

It's been well over a year since I've posted a review here... but I'm back today to talk about a fun, slightly ridiculous, histori-magical romp of a romance: Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall! I really enjoyed Hall's breakout hit, the contemporary London-set Boyfriend Material several years ago, and so I've been eyeing his career ever since. The second book in this magical Regency series, the upcoming Confounding Oaths, had such a lovely cover and interesting summary that I immediately wanted to get caught up and read the first! And then of course, Mortal Follies, published a year ago in June, ALSO had an insanely beautiful book cover. End result: I ordered a copy even though I have literal stacks of other books on my summer reading list.  

It is the year 1814 and life for a young lady of good breeding has many difficulties. There are balls to attend, fashions to follow, marriages to consider and, of course, the tiny complication of existing in a world swarming with fairy spirits, interfering deities, and actual straight-up sorcerers.

Miss Maelys Mitchelmore finds her entry into high society hindered by an irritating curse. It begins innocuously enough with her dress slowly unmaking itself over the course of an evening at a high-profile ball, a scandal she narrowly manages to escape.

However, as the curse progresses to more fatal proportions, Miss Mitchelmore must seek out aid, even if it means mixing with undesirable company. And there are few less desirable than Lady Georgianna Landrake—a brooding, alluring young woman sardonically nicknamed “the Duke of Annadale”—who may or may not have murdered her own father and brothers to inherit their fortune. If one is to believe the gossip, she might be some kind of malign enchantress. Then again, a malign enchantress might be exactly what Miss Mitchelmore needs.

With the Duke’s help, Miss Mitchelmore delves into a world of angry gods and vindictive magic, keen to unmask the perpetrator of these otherworldly attacks. But Miss Mitchelmore’s reputation is not the only thing at risk in spending time with her new ally. For the rumoured witch has her own secrets that may prove dangerous to Miss Mitchelmore’s heart—not to mention her life.

The story opens with Miss Maelys Mitchelmore, a very earnest, innocent, and goodhearted young lady of nineteen, making the rounds of society in Bath. Along with her cousin, Mr. Caesar, and flighty heiress friend Ms. Bickle, the three are making good inroads into that society… until Miss Mitchelmore is suddenly stricken with a curse. When this curse makes her dress unravel into nothingness at a ball, the Duke of Annandale, a scandalous and scorned woman of twenty-four (the Duke moniker is mocking, since rumors say she killed all of her brothers and her father by sorcery to inherit) comes to her rescue, and is dangerously charming in Miss Mitchelmore’s direction… and a fascination (and story!) is born. 

 

The most interesting and unusual thing about Mortal Follies is the world in which it is set – one full of curses, magic, and gods both old and new living alongside science and logic – but with more equality and progressive viewpoints. It feels as if the author Hall said, what if I set a lesbian romance in an alternate magical Regency era, but I also decided to mend many wrongs, and made it altogether a more welcoming and wonderful place for LGBTQ+ characters? This choice, along with others (a sprinkling of archaic language, lighthearted dialogue between characters, and the constant intervention of the supernatural) result in a frothy confection of a tale – sweet, easy to consume, and a nice escape from the everyday.

 

Within the world of the book, Hall amuses himself (and a well-read audience, if they catch the references) with an allusion-rich text. There are mentions of stories and traditions from Greek mythology and fairy tale and myth throughout, and Hall also alludes to Jane Austen (Ms. Bickle “tinging” Mr. Willoughby & Mr. Wickham, for instance) and adapts an Arthur C. Clarke quote about magic and science at another point as well. These Easter eggs will delight many readers.

 

Much of the airy and entertaining feel of the book comes down to the mythic bits interwoven in the tale (for instance, Miss Bickle is constantly suggesting unusual and dangerous fairy exploits), but also through Hall’s use of language. This can be formal and archaic at times: words like apposite, pettifoggery, and more pop up, and Miss Bickle uses several neologisms (creating the word “ting” for instance, which is analogous to the modern verb “to ship” – to want characters to engage romantically). If you can’t tell already, Miss Bickle will be a favorite character. She is a constant source of comic relief, as she always has something nonsensical to suggest, in the most charming manner possible. A frustrating friend to have at times, but marvelously loyal to Miss Mitchelmore, who can use her support given the curse she suffers under.

 

Alternatively, the love interest, Lady Georgiana Landrake, the Duke of Annandale, is not very likable: she is sarcastic, mocking, and snide to start, but also moved to be a white knight in Maelys’ awful predicament. This push-pull of wanting Maelys and responding to her, but putting her off by acting meanly and protesting that she cannot have good things because she will poison or ruin them, or that Maelys is too young or doesn’t know what she wants, comes off as condescending and callous. Contrasted with Maelys’ virtues (a strong sense of fairness, patience with friends, etc.) and slow-blossoming awareness that she is perhaps not heterosexual after all, Georgiana’s feigned indifference and insistence on her own wickedness makes everyone both confused and miserable. While it conforms neatly to the trope of Byronic and brooding heroes in the Regency genre, it is somewhat derivative here – and the reader may find themselves wondering if Maelys might've found a better object for her affections if she had looked around a bit more. Hall’s skill in mending characters’ misunderstandings does make for a satisfying romance by the end, and the story neatly makes the point that even morally gray almost-villainesses deserve love.

 

There was one very annoying element that almost ended the reading experience before it could truly get underway: the conceit of a fairy sprite narrator (in this case, Robin Goodfellow). After the fifteenth time he turned into a candle flame, or a vapor, or a shadow to spy on the characters it became tedious. The mentions of little acts of chaos, the omniscient asides that Robin provided about gods and goddesses and their foibles, and the recurring mention of getting kicked out of the fairy Courts did nominally add more magic to the story – but their repetitive nature and the constant shift between perspectives was exasperating. Beware!

 

In all, Mortal Follies is a lighthearted mashup of Regency romance and fantasy, and enjoyable in almost all aspects. Hall’s confection of a world has surprising depth at times, and will appeal to fans of the ever-growing field of romantasy.

 

Recommended for: readers who like the sound of Regency romance + curses + lighthearted fun + sapphic awakenings, and anyone in the mood for a summery, allusion-rich fantasy set in a world that isn’t as cruel or prudish as ours was in 1814.

the wild hunt

I had a heck of a week last week. A list of things that happened: the first four days of the school year, a traffic ticket & car trouble, a stolen wallet, a lunch left in a ride share car, a trip to Iowa, and a general feeling of possibly being cursed? So in the midst of it all I obviously bought a book I had barely heard of before in an airport bookstore and read it in the space of the weekend. Emma Seckel’s The Wild Hunt is a haunting and harrowing historical adult fantasy, and it was an excellent escape from the world.  

The islanders have only three rules: don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted, don’t mention the war, and never let your guard down during October.

Leigh Welles has not set foot on the island in years, but when she finds herself called home from a disappointing life on the Scottish mainland by her father’s unexpected death, she is determined to forget the sorrows of the past—her mother’s abandonment, her brother’s icy distance, the unspeakable tragedy of World War II—and start fresh. Fellow islander Iain MacTavish, a RAF veteran with his eyes on the sky and his head in the past is also in desperate need of a new beginning. A young widower, Iain struggles to return to the normal life he knew before the war.

But this October is anything but normal. This October, the sluagh are restless. The ominous, bird-like creatures of Celtic legend—whispered to carry the souls of the dead—have haunted the islanders for decades, but in the war’s wake, there are more wandering souls and more slaugh. When a local boy disappears, Leigh and Iain are thrown together to investigate the truth at the island’s dark heart and reveal hidden secrets of their own.

Rich with historical detail and a skillful speculative edge, Emma Seckel’s propulsive and pulse-pounding debut The Wild Hunt unwinds long-held tales of love, loss, and redemption.

 

Leigh Welles is accustomed to loss—her mother disappeared into the sea when she was ten and never came back, her brother left for university soon afterward and then disappeared into the Second World War and never sailed back home, she lost her own big city dreams in the slog of trying to make it on the post-war mainland, and now she’s finally returned because her father fell and drowned, and there’s a funeral to attend and a discarded life to shake the dust off of and return to. Put all that together with the fact that on their remote Scottish island, something uncanny happens in October, and you have the setting for The Wild Hunt. How the next month plays out—the unrest and cruelty of the sluagh (spirits who take the form of crows and only appear in October) will either make or break the island, and Leigh and those she loves will be closest to it all.

This book does a lot: it is a post-war imagining, both pastoral and historical. It is also speculative and literary, and dips into horror in places as well. It succeeds as a narrative because of the pervasive atmosphere Seckel creates within its covers. There’s an overarching heaviness and darkness in Seckel’s tale, a countdown sounding in ominous bass notes in the background, the unbearable weight of history and at the same time tradition and superstition knocking up against the modern world. There’s a sense of isolation that butts up against belonging, and cloying despair battling it out with small moments of hope. I found it fascinating, but I like a slow build and excessive world building. The gathering unrest of it all—contained, quiet, and devastating, did not feel fully resolved, but it did feel fitting. If you like stories that slowly sink their claws into your psyche and leave small openings for what may come next, you’ll like this book.

As mentioned above, loss colors much of the narrative, and no one’s loss seems more personal or immediate than Leigh’s…until you meet the wreck that is Iain MacTavish, slowly sinking in a sea of guilt over death — those island boys lost in the war, a wife lost in the Blitz, and survivors carried away in senseless post-war slaughter, both memory- and sluagh-caused. Seckel skillfully interweaves Leigh and Iain’s voices, dreams, pieces of the past (long-gone and near), and other villagers’ perspectives to create a poignant whole. The characterization rests against a foggy and indistinct background, on some small Scottish isle — never positively identified by name but described in eerie detail. Aside from loss, the most immediate themes are the futility of war, legend and myth crossing over into reality, and community identity. The fact that this story is not easily categorized, but still succeeds, is a credit to Seckel’s writing ability: neither spare nor overblown, and careful in its urgency and construction.

In all, The Wild Hunt is convincing and emotion-laden. It’s a trip straight into the past, into the liminal spaces between worlds, and to an island held in the malevolent spell of mysterious creatures and too-present grief.

Recommended for: fantasy fans who enjoy a dark fantasy/horror vibe, readers who think mythology-meets-post-war-despair sounds intriguing, those who enjoy bird-based horror and myth, and anyone (quite rightly!) obsessed with Scottish coastline, expertly and lovingly described. 

turtle in paradise

Turtle in Paradise: The Graphic Novel has one of the prettiest and most colorful book covers I’ve ever seen. And obviously, as a human (aka someone who judges books by their covers), I was drawn to it. I had never read a Jennifer L. Holm book before, but I thoroughly enjoyed this middle grade graphic novel, an adaptation of a book by the same name, illustrated by Savanna Ganucheau and colored by Lark Pien. It’s sweet, tart, and endearing – just like a Key lime pie.

A graphic novel adaptation of the beloved, bestselling Newbery Honor-winning novel.

Eleven-year-old Turtle is smart and tough and has seen enough of the world not to expect a Hollywood ending. After all, it’s 1935 and money—and sometimes even dreams—is scarce. So when Turtle’s mother gets a job housekeeping for a lady who doesn’t like kids, Turtle heads off to Florida to live with relatives. Florida’s like nothing Turtle’s ever seen before, though. It’s full of ragtag boy cousins, family secrets to unravel . . . and even a little bit of fun. Before she knows what’s happened, Turtle finds herself coming out of her shell. And as she does, her world opens up in the most unexpected ways.

Inspired by family stories, three-time Newbery Honor winner Jennifer L. Holm blends family lore with America’s past in this charming gem of a novel, now adapted into graphic novel form by rising star Savanna Ganucheau.

 

For Turtle, growing up in the South during the Great Depression means that she’s used to uncertainty. She and her mother Sadiebelle (who has her head stuck firmly in the clouds) make due with any situation – even when Sadiebelle’s employer won’t allow children. So Turtle is shipped down to the Florida Keys to live with her cousins and aunt, whom she has never met before. Upon arrival, Turtle is alerted to the existence of a Diaper Gang, barefoot life, and other Conch (Florida Keys native) peculiarities. As she adjusts to life in the Keys, several mysteries unravel – and the only question remaining is: will Turtle finally find her home in Florida? Or will her mother eventually buy them a home in Georgia?

 

Turtle in Paradise: The Graphic Novel is a gem of a graphic novel – full of shenanigans, feisty cousins, hard-headed Turtle, and the ups and downs of extended family life. For Turtle, who has been an only child, and a practical one at that, it is an adjustment. Turtle’s experiences, illustrated in loving detail and color, are by turns laugh-out-loud funny, bittersweet, and charming. The book reads as a series of connected vignettes, slowly illuminating the mysteries of Turtle’s parentage and lineage, the will-she/won’t-she of being able to keep her cat Smokey, and the all-consuming effort to earn money so that she and her mother can have the sense of security that a home would bring.

 

I loved the historical tidbits and worries that are particular to Turtle’s time. She’s a product of her upbringing: practical, clever, and able to fit in with any crowd, and yet she has soft spots: for her cat, for her crotchety old grandmother, and for her mother, a dreamer who left Key West and ended up a housekeeper. I also loved the illustrations! Especially those of activities that barely exist in the US any longer: sponge fishing, turtle harvesting, encyclopedia sales, and so on. Through this book, you can feel both the heat and the ocean breeze of the 1930s Keys.

 

I already adored Savanna Ganucheau’s art from her collaboration with Kevin Panetta in their YA graphic novel Bloom, but this collaboration with Holm and Pien is something special. Ganucheau renders her art digitally in Photoshop, and Holm’s big-eyed characters emote in such a lovely way with those eyes. The art and text combination evoked smells, tastes, visuals, auditory stimulus, and, of course, feeling. In addition, colorist Pien’s pastel sherbet palette of colors is evocative of sun-drenched days and bright light. The combination of all three? A delight.

 

In all, Turtle in Paradise is a pearl, a peach, a star! of a graphic novel, and one that I enjoyed in one gulp.

 

Recommended for: fans of historical fiction, anyone who likes Savanna Ganucheau’s art (Bloom!), and those ready for a summer-y middle grade read filled with poignant moments, à la This One Summer and Be Prepared.

 

Fine print: I received an advanced copy of Turtle in Paradise for review consideration from the publisher. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

the city on the other side

Fairyland has figured heavily in my pleasure reading for almost as long as I’ve been reading. First, because it is and was a staple of English-language fantasy (a favorite), and secondly because it was the sort of thing I didn’t have to hide from my mother (she never really took to fantasy, but fairies were okay because it’s classic myth!). But complicated feelings about fantasy aside, I read some really fabulous fairy stories as a young one, and I know kid me would have loved Mairghread Scott and Robin Robinson’s The City on the Other Side.

In The City on the Other Side, a young girl stumbles into a pitched war between two fairy kingdoms, and the fate of San Francisco itself hangs in the balance!

Sheltered within her high-society world, Isabel plays the part of a perfectly proper little girl—she’s quiet, well-behaved, and she keeps her dresses spotlessly clean. She’s certainly not the kind of girl who goes on adventures.

But that all changes when Isabel breaches an invisible barrier and steps into another world. She discovers a city not unlike her own, but magical and dangerous. Here, war rages between the fairies of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Only Isabel, with the help of a magical necklace and a few new friends, stands a chance of ending the war before it destroys the fairy world, and her own.

From Mairghread Scott and Robin Robinson comes a colorful fantasy graphic novel set in early twentieth century San Francisco.

Isabel is a young girl growing up in post-1906 earthquake San Francisco. She lives a sheltered and privileged life, though not necessarily a happy one. She’s admonished not to be a bother, to be silent, and to stay clean. Meanwhile, she’s shuttled between two distracted and/or absent parents. So of course, she ends up in the middle of a fairy war!

One of the strong points in this story is Isabel’s development. Isabel finds purpose and lives through more action in the course of her adventures in fairyland than she has seen in her whole life, and it changes her. She develops her voice, decides who to trust, comes up with plans (even if they’re bad ones), and speaks up to those she loves. In the end she finds a way to live in both worlds.

Another great element of the story is the art. The art in a graphic novel tells just as much (if not more!) of the story as the words on the page, and this book has PHENOMENAL art. Robin Robinson has illustrated fairy creatures of all stripes and looks and mythological traditions. The fairy that can travel through walls and the ground? Super cool! Fairyland also has a direct counterpart in the real world, and the parts where they are overlaid with each other or set side-by-side are wonderful.

On the list of weaker story elements, I’d put the character development of Isabel’s parents and the set-up for and consequences of the fairy war (we see lots of broken down buildings, etc., but the true reason for the war wasn’t revealed until too late in the story). I would also have liked to see more historical elements (rather than just dress), since the story is set quite far in the past.

In all, The City on the Other Side is an enjoyable, beautifully-illustrated middle grade graphic novel featuring protagonists of color, a fairy war, and a race to save the world(s).

Recommended for: fans of graphic novels and fairy art, and readers ages 8 and up who are looking for a quick, fun read.

Fine print: I received a copy of this book for review consideration from the publisher. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

brooklyn

Given that the adapted screenplay of Colm Tóibín’s Brooklyn was up for an Oscar a few nights ago, today seemed like a good time to talk about the book (which I read over the Valentine’s Day weekend – perfect material, really!).  The first thing you should know is that I read this book the wrong way ‘round.  I had no intention of reading it at all (even though I had heard good things about it!), but then I saw the film.  I LOVED it to bits.  A couple of months later I saw the movie tie-in edition while browsing at the bookstore and took it straight to the register for purchase.  I then read it in a night and a morning – thank you, weekends!  I liked this book a lot – almost as much as I loved the film.  Oh, it was good!

Eilis Lacey has come of age in small-town Ireland in the hard years following World War II. When an Irish priest from Brooklyn offers to sponsor Eilis in America, she decides she must go, leaving her fragile mother and her charismatic sister behind.

Eilis finds work in a department store on Fulton Street, and when she least expects it, finds love. Tony, who loves the Dodgers and his big Italian family, slowly wins her over with patient charm. But just as Eilis begins to fall in love, devastating news from Ireland threatens the promise of her future.

Tóibín is a master at:

1. Making the setting feel alive.  He imparted the small-town feel of Eilis’ hometown of Enniscorthy in a spare, funny way that matched the repression and busy-body behavior of its inhabitants.  In the same way, he pulled the reader into the bustle and strangeness of Brooklyn, without employing florid prose. 

2. Inhabiting Eilis’ character and inner life.  Good people are often difficult to describe in 3D, but Tóibín does it.  He brings Eilis’ quiet hopes and dreams to life without boring the reader.  Eilis, though faced with many challenges, never seems acted upon – she is the hero of her own story.  An aside: It is too seldom that I can say that about works written by men about female characters.

3. Suffusing words with emotion.  Although, or perhaps in spite of, the way that his characters repress their feelings, Tóibín captures the culture and spirits of the time period he writes about.  In parts, the language, the descriptions, the topics of conversation (and those seemingly forbidden), reminded me very strongly of old letters my grandfather wrote my mother while she was away at school – in the 50s.  So perfectly capturing the vernacular and feel of the era is a feat.

So far I haven’t said a thing about the plot, except to call Brooklyn a quiet book. And it is that, if you can call transatlantic voyages, falling in love, growing up and surviving tragedy quiet.  It’s powerful, and beautiful, and though I usually prefer books with magic in them, I can tell you that this one is EXCELLENT.

The best books make me laugh and cry.  I had high hopes for Brooklyn because the movie did both of those things, in spades.  And I wasn’t disappointed.

Recommended for: anyone interested in books about strong women (not trying to be cliché here – just don’t know of a better way to say that!), fans of literary fiction and romance, and YA readers who don’t mind the labels on their books, as long as they are romantic and historical.

p.s. The film adaptation of Brooklyn = truly lovely.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a better book/film match (not saying that it’s a carbon copy – it’s not!)… just that Hornby rocked it and somehow transferred the exact feel of the book into film form.

gingerbread for liberty!

Gingerbread for Liberty! has the word gingerbread in the title. I'll admit, that's all it took for me to click over to my local library webpage and place a hold. I love food (like a lot of you do, I imagine). I love books only slightly less than food (and some days it's pretty even in the running). A book that combines food AND art AND history is just extra icing on the gingerbread. Lucky me (and you), this one met my (admittedly high) expectations.

Christopher Ludwick was a German-born American patriot with a big heart and a talent for baking. When cries of “Revolution!” began, Christopher was determined to help General George Washington and his hungry troops. Not with muskets or cannons, but with gingerbread!  Cheerfully told by Mara Rockliff and brought to life by Vincent Kirsch’s inventive cut-paper illustrations, Gingerbread for Liberty! is the story of an unsung hero of the Revolutionary War who changed the course of history one loaf at a time.

Gingerbread for Liberty!: How a German Baker Helped Win the American Revolution is a picture book that delves into the history of German-American baker Christopher Ludwick, who lived in Philadelphia during the Revolutionary War period. This little-known character was famous for baking gingerbread for the city, volunteering to help feed Washington's army, and he rounded it out by going on special night missions to convince German troops to switch sides and fight for an independent American nation.

While Rockliff does a good job with the story and history, the best part by far is Vincent X. Kirsch’s art and overall book design. The interior art is made up of layered paper cut outs in primary colors, with white edging that mimics traditional gingerbread decoration. The font matches the unique style, though at times its placement is not always intuitive for the reader. The effect, once you take in a page spread or two, is charming and the tiniest bit old-fashioned, like the wooden lace scrollwork on an old Victorian house. It doesn't ever edge into cutesy, though, and the various cityscapes, ships, soldiers and exploits described throughout the book will appeal even to those who have no interest in gingerbread.

That's said, if you are interested in food + books like I am, this book is perfect. The endpapers contain a gingerbread recipe (presumably like the one Ludwick would have used), and I was sorely tempted to bake and decorate in shapes to match the book's many illustrations. I can see this book spawning family or classroom culinary adventures, especially around the Presidents' and Independence Day holidays.

In all, Gingerbread for Liberty! is a multi-interest picture book that expounds on a little-known figure in American history, with fantastic art and a baking hook.

Recommended for: parents and teachers looking for children's books that focus on history (with a lesson but without tedium), anyone who enjoys baking, and fans of paper crafts/art.

Interested in other food-related posts? Check out Beth Fish Reads' Weekend Cooking.

of monsters and madness blog tour (review + giveaway)

Today on Adventures of Cecelia Bedelia I’m part of the blog tour for Jessica Verday’s Of Monsters and Madness.  It’s a tale of gothic sensibilities and dark mystery.  It will be released by Egmont USA on September 9th, 2014.  Check out the end of the post for your chance to win a copy!

My education in classic horror has been sadly neglected.  I never read Frankenstein or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and only short stories by Poe.  That said, these tales have become part of the pop culture lexicon, and I know the important parts of those stories because I’ve seen them reworked in film, comics or in novel retellings.  I keep saying I don’t like scary, but I do like dark fantasy, and much of it owes at least of piece of inspiration to the classics.  Jessica Verday’s Of Monsters and Madness is a gothic/horror mash-up with a perfectly pitched sense of impending doom.

A romantic, historical retelling of classic Gothic horror featuring Edgar Allan Poe and his character Annabel Lee, from a New York Times best-selling author.

Annabel Lee is summoned from Siam to live with her father in 1820's Philadelphia shortly after her mother's death, but an unconventional upbringing makes her repugnant to her angry, secretive father. Annabel becomes infatuated with her father's assistant Allan, who dabbles in writing when he's not helping with medical advancements. But in darker hours, when she's not to be roaming the house, she encounters the devilish assistant Edgar, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Allan, and who others insist doesn't exist.

A rash of murders across Philadelphia, coupled with her father's strange behavior, leads Annabel to satisfy her curiosity and uncover a terrible truth: Edgar and Allan are two halves of the same person - and they are about to make the crimes detailed in Allan's stories come to life. Unless Annabel stops them.

The year is 1826, and Annabel Lee has lived most of her life in Siam, far from her father’s influence and knowledge.  When her father finally sends for her just before her mother dies, Annabel knows she has no choice but to leave her home. When she arrives in chilly, dark Philadelphia, nothing is as she expected.  Her father is withdrawn and disproving.  Her surroundings are foreign.  And there are a rash of unexplained murders occurring nearby.  Annabel is determined to earn her father’s approval and learn the mysterious secrets of his house, but she doesn’t count on being attracted to her father’s assistant, Allan, or frightened of his mysterious cousin, Edgar.  As sinister happenings strike closer and closer to home, Annabel’s intuition and suspicions will not let her rest until she knows the truth—even if it endangers all she holds dear.

Well!  If you’ve read the official synopsis, you should have a pretty good idea of what will happen, and which classic tale the book retells.  The story’s surprises weren’t of the plot-twist variety, at least for me.  What was compelling about Of Monsters and Madness then?  Annabel Lee, of course!  She’s an unrepentantly curious character with a strong stomach, a desire to practice medicine, and a history in an entirely different culture.  She doesn’t fit the expectations of her sex for the time period or setting, and that causes disorientation and frustration, even though she tries to reign those feelings in.  The first person narration allows the reader to see it all through her eyes – and though she worries that she is cold like her father, in fact Annabel feels things deeply.  It is that deep feeling paired with curiosity that leads her into dangerous territory – and into the path of Allan/Edgar.  While the reader can guess what comes next, Annabel doesn’t know the story, and that makes her vulnerable to it. 

But back to the setting: historical! brooding! dangerous!  In other words, perfectly gothic, and a great backdrop for a tale of horror.  Speaking of horror, I’d say this is on the lighter-ish end of the spectrum, as I wasn’t scared away.  Still, there IS gore and murder… so it’s not the book for those who prefer sunshine and happy endings.  Though Annabel does seem a bit prone to wander into dangerous situations, her actions are plausible and the set-up works.  Another thing to be aware of: this is the first in a new series, and there are a some (okay, several) loose ends and mysteries left for following books.

In all, Of Monsters and Madness is a well-written homage to classic horror, a strong first entry in a new young adult series, and an ideal pick for Halloween reading.

Recommended for: anyone interested in classic horror, dark first-person narratives, historical fiction mashups, and fans of Kady Cross’ steampunk series for young adults.

Would you like a SIGNED copy of the book for yourself?  You're in luck!  Egmont USA is graciously allowing me to offer one copy to a lucky winner.  To enter, simply fill out the FORM.  Giveaway open to US/Canadian addresses only, will end on Monday, September 15 at 11:59pm EST.  Winner will be selected randomly and notified via email.  Good luck!

If you’re interested in learning more about author Jessica Verday and Of Monsters and Madness, check out the blog tour page, and tomorrow’s stops at The Book Monsters and Addicted 2 Novels.

Fine print: I received an ARC of this book for review consideration.  Giveaway prize provided by the publisher. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

the midnight queen

You know that sense of well-being after you’ve finished a good book, when life is all contentment, and you feel a flush of joy?  I read a very ‘Cecelia’ book, and I felt… pleased with everything and everyone.  I couldn’t contemplate my next read for days – I had to let the euphoria of a tailor-made story buoy me up for some time afterwards.  What was the book that ensorcelled me so completely?  Only Sylvia Izzo Hunter’s debut fantasy novel, The Midnight Queen.

In the hallowed halls of Oxford’s Merlin College, the most talented—and highest born—sons of the Kingdom of Britain are taught the intricacies of magickal theory. But what dazzles can also destroy, as Gray Marshall is about to discover…

Gray’s deep talent for magick has won him a place at Merlin College. But when he accompanies four fellow students on a mysterious midnight errand that ends in disaster and death, he is sent away in disgrace—and without a trace of his power. He must spend the summer under the watchful eye of his domineering professor, Appius Callender, working in the gardens of Callender’s country estate and hoping to recover his abilities. And it is there, toiling away on a summer afternoon, that he meets the professor’s daughter.

Even though she has no talent of her own, Sophie Callender longs to be educated in the lore of magick. Her father has kept her isolated at the estate and forbidden her interest; everyone knows that teaching arcane magickal theory to women is the height of impropriety. But against her father’s wishes, Sophie has studied his ancient volumes on the subject. And in the tall, stammering, yet oddly charming Gray, she finally finds someone who encourages her interest and awakens new ideas and feelings.

Sophie and Gray’s meeting touches off a series of events that begins to unravel secrets about each of them. And after the king’s closest advisor pays the professor a closed-door visit, they begin to wonder if what Gray witnessed in Oxford might be even more sinister than it seemed. They are determined to find out, no matter the cost…

Graham Marshall (Gray to friends and family) is a young postgraduate at Merlin College, in Oxford.  His vocation is the study of magic, and he hopes to one day teach fellow magician-scholars like himself.  All his plans are upset when he discovers a sinister plot against the head of his college after a night escapade gone terribly wrong.  When his tutor, Professor Callendar, takes him off to his country estate, Gray wonders if anything will turn right again… but that is before he meets the Professor’s least-loved daughter Sophie.  Sophie doesn’t have any magic, but that doesn’t keep her from being intensely interested in it, despite the fact that her mother died in a magical accident.  Together, Sophie and Gray may solve several mysteries, and perhaps find something more as well.

A good reading experience is as much luck as it is planning.  I knew from the description of The Midnight Queen that I had quite a good change of liking the book – after all, it was languages/scholars/magic/Regency-esque manners and mores… exactly what I ordered up on my wishlist for reading material earlier this year.  So, I said I’d read it.  I was also lucky in that I read it on a leisurely Sunday afternoon with time enough to get invested (and eventually, lost) in the story, too.  This one starts at a modest pace, but it gathers steam as the story unfolds, and I’m not sure I would have treated it with so much patience if I hadn’t picked it up at the right time.  Long story short, that’s how I came to be happily engaged in an entertaining book for a lovely Sunday afternoon.  And why I am now going to bully you into reading it too (not actual bullying of course… more like, strong recommend-ing!).

After the opening chapters, the narrative switches often between Gray and Sophie’s POVs, though Gray sees more ‘stage time.’  Gray himself is a studious, stubborn young man who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to start the story.  Overall he’s a smart, refreshing change from the ‘alpha male who thinks he knows everything’ sort of hero you sometimes see in fantasy.  Sophie, though – Sophie is the winning character, if you can single one out.  She’s young (only seventeen – YA crossover potential!), thirsty for knowledge, curious, caring, and has been cloistered away by her father for much of her life.  Though they’re both odd in their own ways, they make a good team, and much of their character development is spent learning how to complement each other and then putting that into practice.  It’s a mutual appreciation society, though it takes some time for them to realize how much they mean to each other.  I did get my allotment of swoon, though, never fear!

But enough about the characters!  I would say, though I loved Sophie, that most of the book’s charm lies in its complex setting and plot (once it gets going).  Hunter has made up some languages and pulled in other (dead) ones, re-drawn national lines, and in all created an alternate world where everything seems familiar, but has been tweaked just enough to create a truly fantastical background.  I want to go to Merlin and study it all myself!  That said, there are also: secretive compatriots, plots upon plots, disguises and traveling incognito, true love, and parallels to Jane Austen’s novels.  I also adored the sisterly (and sibling) relationships and friendships throughout the book.  We all know in real life nothing gets done without a network of friends to help you out, but it’s rare to see the fictional equivalent in sci-fi and fantasy.  I really loved that aspect, and I think it will only make the following books better (there must be more!).

Before I run away with this review and tell you everything, I must mention the book’s cons.  The only serious one is that the book started slowly.  It takes a bit of dedication to stick with the narrative when you have sunburned gardening going on for pages and pages.  That said, once it does get going, it’s gold.  My other (minor) complaints all have to do with wanting more detail, more backstory, and more of the side characters.  But that’s the beauty of creating such a rich world – I’m sure Hunter will come back and fill in bits I didn’t even know I needed.  And I didn’t feel as if I was missing anything on that score, merely that I am now curious about everyone and everything.

In all: this was MY sort of book, and I really can’t praise it enough.  I’ve already gone back and read the delicious bits again, and I can’t wait to buy a finished copy for my shelf.  *happy sigh*

Recommended for: those who like books with magical adventure, romance and intrigue, fans of alternate world historical fantasy, and readers who liked Kate Elliott’s Spiritwalker series and Patricia C. Wrede’s Mairelon books.

The Midnight Queen will be released by Ace (Penguin) on September 2, 2014.

Fine print: I received an e-ARC of this book from the publisher for review consideration.  I did not receive any compensation for this post.

the castle behind thorns

Reading is a weird, personal experience.  Likewise deciding what to read.  Once I’ve settled on a book (enticed by the cover art, title, summary, author or the recommendation of someone I trust) my strange behavior escalates.  I tend to avoid (or at best, skim) reviews of the chosen book.  And after I’ve made a decision not to spoil a book for myself, years may go by, I may even change my mind about reading it, and still steer clear of reviews.  It’s slightly obsessive behavior, but it’s just standard operating procedure.  So: The Castle Behind Thorns.  I loved Merrie Haskell’s middle grade debut The Princess Curse, but her following book, Handbook for Dragon Slayers, didn’t strike my fancy.  Still, I’ve been waiting on this third Haskell title since last year, but I’ve been pretending reviews didn’t exist.  I didn’t even let myself dwell on the summary.  Once I started reading, though, it was all enchantment, and I hardly looked up until I’d finished the book.

When Sand wakes up alone in a long-abandoned castle, he has no idea how he got there. The stories all said the place was ruined by an earthquake, and Sand did not expect to find everything inside-from dishes to candles to apples-torn in half or slashed to bits. Nothing lives here and nothing grows, except the vicious, thorny bramble that prevents Sand from leaving. Why wasn't this in the stories?

To survive, Sand does what he knows best-he fires up the castle's forge to mend what he needs to live. But the things he fixes work somehow better than they ought to. Is there magic in the mending, granted by the saints who once guarded this place?

Unexpectedly, Sand finds the lost heir, Perrotte, a girl who shares the castle's astonishing secrets and dark history. Putting together the pieces-of stone and iron, and of a broken life-is harder than Sand ever imagined, but it's the only way to gain their freedom, even with the help of the guardian saints.

With gorgeous language and breathtaking magic, Merrie Haskell's The Castle Behind Thorns tells of the power of memory and story, forgiveness and strength, and the true gifts of craft and imagination.

Thirteen year-old Sand wakes one morning in the fireplace of a broken castle, with no memory of the night before, and no way out.  But his arrival is just one of the mysteries of the castle.  First, the castle itself and everything in it has been rent in two – violently.  It was clearly caused by some magical or miraculous event – but what?  Second, there’s an impenetrable wall of thorns growing around the castle walls, and they’re not exactly a benevolent presence.  Third, Sand discovers that the castle’s long-lost heir Perrotte is trapped with him.  While Sand sets about doing what he knows best – mending the castle through his blacksmithing skills – there’s the matter of survival.  These two will need to untangle history, myth and emotion to free themselves and set things right once and for all.

Don’t be fooled: while this tale has the traditional castle-surrounded-by-thorns, it’s not a typical Sleeping Beauty retelling.  The lovely mix of mythology, fairy tale, religion and medieval French setting is all its own.  Unique too is the dual narrative structure, though Sand is certainly the focus. 

Sand misses his loving family, but he’s struggling to forge his own path and this brings him into conflict with his father.  His removal to the Sundered Castle forces him to adapt to independence quickly, and to face a few choice facts.  Young noblewoman Perrotte’s past comes back to her slowly, and emotion threatens to sweep her into rash action when it does.  However, Sand’s presence and her interest in the natural sciences combined lead to growth, and eventually, a future she could learn to love.  At the most basic level, they’re two adolescents making the transition to adulthood, and while they urgently need a way out of the castle, their time of isolation also gives them time to know themselves and each other.

That’s the story, then.  I enjoyed it, though it didn’t set my pulse racing – it’s a quieter sort of story (though not peaceful… there’s quite a bit of remembered violence).  What really shines in The Castle Behind Thorns?  Haskell’s writing and the world-building.  Just A+ stuff!  Haskell’s writing is like a mash-up of the best of Karen Cushman (The Midwife’s Apprentice) and Robin McKinley (The Blue Sword).  It is finely wrought medieval fantasy setting plus fairy tale, magic and mysticism.  I’ve never read anything like it (and I have read a lot of fairy tale retellings, folks).  Haskell is breaking ground, but not in a flashy, plot-above-all sort of way – no, this is heart-driven, mythic storytelling with appeal for anyone who likes smart fantasy with layers of meaning (my preteen self would have loved this book and all of the female agency!).

I’m not sure, rereading my review, that I have convinced you to pick up the book yet.  Let me try again.  My favorite things: Sand as a character – so grounded, perfect temperament for his chosen work, and yet not a perfect cardboard cutout ‘type.’  The inclusion of religious symbols, saints and miracles alongside magic.  Real danger!  Unkindness and tragedy paired with examples of strength and courage.  Good parental figures, as well as ambiguous ones.  Gray areas!  And of course, a historical heroine interested in science.  This one, in case you couldn’t tell, was a total winner.

Recommended for: fans of Rosamund Hodge’s Cruel Beauty (don’t expect a romantic thread!), Elizabeth Gray Vining’s Adam of the Road, Sherryl Jordan’s The Raging Quiet, and all-ages (10+) fans of beautifully crafted historical fantasy.

when audrey met alice blog tour - author guest post

Author Rebecca Behrens is here today at Adventures of Cecelia Bedelia with a guest post about famous women in history for Women's History Month.  First Daughter Alice Roosevelt is a character in her debut middle grade novel When Audrey Met Alice.  When Audrey Met Alice was released on February 4, 2014 by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky.  Check out the end of the post for the chance to win a copy!

Welcome Rebecca!

Rebecca Behrens grew up in Wisconsin, studied in Chicago, and now lives with her husband in New York City, where she works as a production editor for children’s books. Rebecca loves writing and reading about girls full of moxie and places full of history. When she’s not writing, you can find her running in the park, reading on a beach, or eating a doughnut. Visit her online at www.rebeccabehrens.com.

In writing When Audrey Met Alice, I loved getting to explore the eventful life of the real Alice Roosevelt. My favorite thing about writing historical fiction is delving into the lives of real, and sometimes famous, women like Alice. Here are a few more historical women whom I find particularly fascinating:

• Sacagawea: We know a lot about Lewis's and Clark's lives, but frustratingly little about the teenager who helped make it possible for them to reach the Pacific Ocean. Sacagawea was the daughter of a Shoshone chief, but she was kidnapped at age ten and later married to a French trader, Charbonneau. She was pregnant with their child during the Lewis and Clark expedition, giving birth at the winter camp with a rattlesnake-tail concoction to ease the pain. An interpreter and the only woman in the permanent party, Sacagawea helped negotiate peacefully with the tribes they met on their journey—including one led by her long-lost brother.

• Nellie Bly: Nellie was the 19^th-century journalist who famously traveled around the entire world in 72 days—at a time when most women wouldn’t do solo travel anywhere. She’s less famous for some of her investigative journalism, but it’s just as impressive. In 1887 she took on an undercover assignment for Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World, in which she faked a mental breakdown to get admitted to the Women’s Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell’s Island in New York. She spent ten days in the hospital, successfully convincing all the clinicians that she was mad—and once she got out, she wrote a scathing expose of the abusive and negligent care women were receiving there. Her reporting was turned into the sensational book Ten Days in a Mad-House.

• Jackie Mitchell: Do you know who struck out both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig during one exhibition game in 1931? A seventeen-year-old girl named Jackie Mitchell. She was playing for the Chattanooga Lookouts, a minor-league team that offered her a contract after seeing her pitch for a local women’s team. There is plenty of controversy about her striking out two of the greatest players in history—some think it may have been a publicity stunt. Regardless, it’s amazing to think of a teen girl pitcher leading to Babe Ruth being pulled off the field in a hissy fit. The baseball commissioner canceled her contract shortly after, saying that the sport was “too strenuous” for women, but Jackie continued playing ball until 1937. Women were officially banned from signing baseball contracts in 1952.

• Julia Child: Julia brought the art of French cooking into countless American homes. But before she made her career in a (custom-designed, thanks to her height) kitchen, she was a spy! Too tall to enlist in the army, she joined the OSS (an intelligence agency that preceded the CIA). While later in her life she’d downplay her role as being that of a administrative clerk, her husband and others have confirmed that she oversaw information, much of it classified—and that her work was sometimes risky.

• Jane Goodall: As a child, Jane’s father gave her a toy chimpanzee, Jubilee. It sparked her interest in and love of animals. Jane went on to become an expert primatologist, and now knows more than probably anyone on earth about chimpanzees. She completed a famous 45-year study on chimpanzee social and family life at Gombe Stream National Park in Tanzania, sharing with the world that other primates can show the personality, emotions, and rational thought that humans do. Today she advocates for animal rights and the environment through the Jane Gooddall Institute. And she still keeps her toy chimpanzee, Jubilee, on her dresser.

Thanks so much for sharing the stories of those women (and girls!) with us, Rebecca!  I'll look forward to seeing if any of them make an appearance in your next book.  And now... a giveaway!

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Would you like to win a copy of When Audrey Met Alice?  I'm offering one finished copy to a lucky winner.   To enter, simply fill out the FORM. Giveaway open internationally, will close on Monday, March 31st at 11:59pm EST.  Winner will be notified via email.  Good luck!

First daughter Audrey Rhodes can't wait for the party she has planned for Friday night. The decorations are all set and the pizza is on its way. But the Secret Service must be out to ruin her life, because they cancel at the last minute-citing security breach and squashing Audrey's chances for making any new friends. What good is being "safe and secure" if you can't have any fun?

Audrey is ready to give up and become a White House hermit, until she discovers Alice Roosevelt's hidden diary. The former first daughter gives Audrey a ton of ideas for having fun...and more problems than she can handle.