The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things

Carolyn Meckler's The Earth, My Butt and Other Big Round Things

Virginia Shreves doesn’t fit in anywhere – not at her New York City private school, where she is a sophomore, and certainly not at home. Her parents are thin, dark-haired and beautiful, her older sister Anais and her adored older brother Byron (her mom thought that if she named her children after famous authors they’d all turn out fabulous) are thin, dark-haired and beautiful, everyone at school, it seems, is thin and beautiful…and Virgina? Not thin, not dark-haired, not beautiful. Also, not what her mother – a well-known adolescent psychologist – wants in a daughter, and not anything any boy would be interested in (except maybe Froggy Welsh the Fourth, but he’s only interested in groping her on Monday afternoons – he doesn’t actually pay any attention to her in front of actual people). To add insult to injury, her best (ok, her only friend) is gone for an entire year, banished across the country so that her dad can research a book on onions, of all things, so she has literally no one to spend any time with, at all.

Ginny’s family issues suddenly worsen dramatically when her brother is suspended from Columbia University for date rape. Ginny is shocked and appalled, and incredibly disillusioned, that her “perfect” older brother could have committed such an act. At this point, her mother’s focus on perfection – or at least, appearing perfect - comes sharply into focus. Ginny is clearly not perfect, and as she realizes how very much her mother is obsessed with perfection, she becomes more and more insecure regarding her mother’s love. Ginny’s weight is a constant family issue, and the shame and hurt Ginny feels begins to manifest itself in acts of physical self-abuse.

Despite the furor into which Byron’s crime throws the Shreves family (except Anais, who is in Africa with the Peace Corps, and who is kept in the dark about the whole mess by Ginny’s mother), the event serves as a catalyst for a great deal of Ginny’s growth. She sees how her parents – particularly her mother – coddle and protect Byron, ensuring that he doesn’t have to take full responsibility for his behavior. She realizes that the “perfection” of other members of her family is not genuine, and so, slowly, becomes a little more accepting of her own flaws. Also, she becomes less cowed by her family. Her first act of rebellion comes when she buys herself a ticket to Seattle to visit Shannon, her best friend, over Thanksgiving, despite the fact that her mother has denied her permission (since everyone had to be there to support poor Byron). While in Seattle, she gets her nose pierced…and by the end of the story, she’s wearing a boutique dress of purple velvet – not the “old lady” clothes from Saks her mother has always forced her to wear – and sporting purple hair to match.

Ginny’s transformation doesn’t come easy, and she has help – mostly in the form of support from Shannon, from her teacher Mrs. Crowley (because English teachers rock), and in her own growing realization that she is, perhaps, not the ugly duckling among swans she’d always thought herself to be. Her doctor gets her into a kickboxing class, she starts a literary magazine at school, and she mends fences with Froggy, who she’d brushed off when her family life start spiraling out of control. In the end, Ginny is not perfect, but she’s ok with that. She has friends, she’s busy and absorbed, and she’s come to terms with the fact that, just as she isn’t perfect, her family isn’t either. In a great, symbolic act, she finds her sister’s address in her mom’s office, and writes Anais an eight-page letter, telling her everything that’s happened – with Byron, with their parents, and with herself - since Byron’s suspension. She begins to build a strong relationship with her dad, and the reader knows that Ginny is going to be ok.

I liked this book, though, admittedly, not nearly as much as some of the others I’ve read recently. There are parts of it I really like. Ginny is a believable heroine, and her angst is very real. At times, you just want to take her home and hug her and tell her that everything’s going to be ok. Her self-loathing is painful to read, so painful that sometimes it's hard to keep reading – even the parts that are funny (and there is a lot of humor in this book) are less funny because of Ginny's very real anguish. Her development as a character and a person is fun to watch, though. Her teen rebellion – nose ring, purple hair – almost exactly mirrors the little rebellions I wanted to enact as a teenager (I’d still love to have purple hair), and since I didn’t have the guts to do it, I enjoyed living vicariously through Ginny. Ginny’s also very witty, and her wit comes through more and more as she becomes more confident.

However, there are weaknesses that make it difficult for me to really enjoy it as thoroughly as some others. For one, there is a lot that is unresolved. There are several references to Ginny hurting herself – bruising and cutting herself – that are never really addressed. No one knows about it, and eventually Ginny just stops doing it. Self-injuryis certainly a relevant issue to discuss, but the fact that there’s really no discussion about it makes me a little uncomfortable.
Structurally, the book feels a little unfinished because there really isn’t a clear climactic event. Probably, the point of highest action is when Byron is suspended for date rape, which happens in the first third of the book. There are certainly high points after that, but not any solid “event,” which makes the pacing of the book uneven. Really, so many hot button teen angst issues - weight issues, eating disorders, self-abuse, rape - are referenced in this, it would be hard to do them justice, and sometimes it seems that the author didn't even really try to, which weakens the impact of many of them.

However, the weaknesses of this book are almost totally redeemed in my eyes by one major point: at the end of the book, Ginny is satisfied, happy and even popular – and she’s still not skinny. What an amazing concept – a woman of any age can be not skinny – can be F.A.T., even - and can still find that she has something to offer the world, and that people might actually like her even though she's not a size six or under. Ginny’s lifestyle is healthier than at the beginning – she’s exercising and learning to control her emotional eating (it would be nice if she’d give me some lessons) – but she’s still overweight. I think that that’s a major message to send to readers, and it ties in well with the theme that it's ok to be imperfect that moves through the novel.

This novel, a 2004 Printz Award Honor book, would be a good choice for junior high readers. There is no sex in the novel, though there are a few make-out scenes, and one minor drinking scene. Female readers will be drawn to this much more than male, and any girls who have or have had struggles with their weight (eating disorders are also addressed in the novel) will definitely be able to relate to this novel. It’s uplifting message of self-acceptance will be powerful for any reader who can relate to Ginny’s struggles.

When You Reach Me

Rebecca Stead’s When You Reach Me


Miranda is twelve years old, in the sixth grade, and her best friend, Sal, has decided he doesn’t want to be friends with her anymore. Plus, her paralegal mother is obsessed with trying to become a contestant on the game show the $20,000 Pyramid, their apartment is shabby and kind of embarrassing, her mom’s boyfriend (who’s great) wants a key to their apartment but her mom won’t give him one, and the crazy homeless guy who lives on the corner talks to her every time she comes in and out of the building.

At least she has her favorite book – A Wrinkle in Time
by Madeline L’Engle. Even that has a downside, though. Marcus – the weird kid Miranda had never seen until he walked up to her and Sal on the street and inexplicably punched Sal in the nose and the stomach, which seemed to somehow make Sal decide he didn’t want to be friends with her anymore – is really interested in time travel, and when he sees Miranda reading A Wrinkle in Time he decides she must really be interested in it too. So, she has to deal with Marcus’ weird ramblings on time travel. Infuriatingly, while Miranda doesn’t get what he’s talking about, Julia – the rich, pretty girl who is the rival for the affections of Miranda’s new friend, Annemarie – seems to understand him perfectly.

Even more disturbingly, someone is leaving notes for Miranda. Small, strange notes addressed to her, telling her about things she’ll do in the future, making predictions that come true about small events going on in Miranda’s life. Who could be writing these notes? How are they delivering them? How does this mysterious author know what’s going to happen to Miranda?

As Miranda tries to unravel the mystery of the notes, she’s also trying to figure out an even bigger puzzle – herself. Why doesn’t Sal want to be friends anymore? How can she make sure Annemarie likes her more than she likes Julia? Does Colin – another friend – like her or Annemarie? More importantly…how can Miranda be the sort of person who has friends, who people like? Does it mean being like her mom, who does all kinds of free legal cases and brings donations to pregnant prisoners? Does it mean being like Julia, and being better than everyone else? Where does Miranda fit in the midst of all these expectations?

All of these problems come to a head in a dramatic confrontation involving Sal, Marcus and the Laughing Man. I don’t want to talk too much about it, because I don’t want to give away what was truly an awesome ending, but it is very powerful, and has powerful consequences for all the characters involved. Combine that with an appearance by Miranda’s mom on the $20,000 Pyramid, and Miranda is able to make some of those important decisions about who she wants to be.

This was a great book – fun, interesting with a great twist. It is the 2010 Newbury Medal Winner, and it is clear to see why! The story is set in New York City in 1979, and I enjoyed the little touches of seventies nostalgia, which are strong enough to entertain an adult reader, but subtle enough to be un-noticed or not distracting to a young adult reader. Miranda is a very engaging heroine – she is smart and funny, has a touch of attitude but knows it and is sorry –most of the time – when she’s mean, although she doesn’t always admit that to the people she hurts. And her efforts to become a nice person are sweet – the “heroic” acts that she engages in (becoming a bathroom buddy for the girl who still wets her pants) are so right for someone her age. An adult might not think this was a big deal, but to a middle-schooler, this is a major act of self-sacrifice. Also, anyone who’s ever been shunned by a friend will understand the hurt Miranda feels when she’s dropped by Sal, and the desperation that drives her to find another friend.

My favorite part of this book was probably the sci-fi, time travel twist. Having it worked into the story line via allusions to Madeline L’Engle’s classic A Wrinkle in Time(also a Newbery Award-winning book) is a genius twist – it foreshadows the time travel motif before it is officially introduced, and, hopefully, it will inspire some readers to check out A Wrinkle in Time. The time travel story line also helps to reinforce the theme that all people are important and have feelings – even weird or crazy people – without being at all preachy about it.

I enjoyed this book a lot. It was fun, fast-paced and believable. I didn’t see the twist at the end coming, which makes me enjoy a story so much more (even though I admit I do enjoy the smug feel that accompanies spotting a plot twist in progress :) ). This would be a great book for the younger echelon of young adult readers, though older readers will certainly enjoy it as well.

This is a blast-from-the-past image:

it's the cover art from my copy of

A Wrinkle In Time that I read when

I was about Miranda's age.

Dark Sons

Nikki Grimes' Dark Sons

Ishmael is the beloved only son of Abraham. Despite the anger and jealousy of Abraham’s first wife Sarah, he is secure in the love of his father.

Sam is an adored only child, born to parents who had, after years of miscarriages, given up on their dream of having a child of their own.

One day, three men, angels, appear and tell Abraham that his wife, Sarah, will have a child of her own.

Sam wakes up one normal morning to find that his father has fallen in love with another woman, one who is twenty-five years younger than he is, and white.

Ishmael’s half-brother Isaac is born, and Ishmael soon finds that the limitless love his father had always given him has limits, after all.

Slowly but surely, Sam finds himself replaced by his father’s new wife and their new baby, David.

Within this verse novel the stories of these hurt, lost sons – one modern, one Biblical – are told in tandem. Sam’s story is dominant, and the hurt and loss that he feels as his father moves away from him – emotionally and literally – is haunting. One of the few things that brings him any solace as his world crumbles around him is prayer and his church community, so it’s appropriate that the other first-person voice in this novel is Ishmael, the Biblical son of Abraham, who was dismissed with his mother, Hagar, into the wilderness after the birth of the “promised” child, Isaac.

The novel is divided into separate “books,” alternating Sam’s voice with Ishmael’s. Each book is advanced through a series of short, free-verse poems. The poems from both voices are similar in meter and structure, but a reader can definitely differentiate between Sam’s voice and Ishmael’s. What’s truly great about this work, though, is the similarity between the experiences and emotions, and, ultimately, the conclusions, shared between these two very different young men. Also, the relationship between both narrators and their younger brothers is unexpected but warming – the new babies have, in effect, replaced their older brothers, claiming the fatherly love Ishmael and Sam had enjoyed. However, the “Dark Sons” love the little golden boys who replace them – despite the inevitable jealousy and resentment they feel, Sam and Ishmael love David and Isaac, and even set themselves up as protectors of their younger brothers.

The verse novel format was new to me upon reading this book, and I found that I like it a lot. The poems are brief and written in free verse, and are very readable. The poems and their structure also allowed the story to move more quickly where necessary – each poem functioned like its own chapter within the novel, so it allowed the author to linger on certain points, or skip forward or back to different places when necessary.

I can only describe this novel as haunting. This was one of those stories that left me thinking about the characters, wondering how they were doing, wishing I could help them or talk to them. It also left me wanting to slap a few characters (namely, the deadbeat dads). It was a little disconcerting too, since it left me thinking of Abraham as a deadbeat dad! I remember the story of Abraham and Isaac from Sunday School, and it bothered me to realize that I had never really thought what it must have been like to be Ishmael – to be cast away by his father for doing nothing wrong. I also really liked the relationships between both sets of half-brothers. Sam and Ishmael have both been hurt badly by their fathers, but they show remarkable maturity in their relationships with their younger brothers. One of the saddest aspects of the work was the sorrow both narrators felt when they were separated from their brothers.

This story is great for just about any young adult reader. Fans of poetry will really enjoy the verse novel form, but I think it will also be great for those reluctant to embrace poetry. The poems are brief, simple and easily comprehensible – they are also functional. Sometimes a major objection to poetry is that poems don’t have a “point” – that they’re too hard to figure out. Since these poems all fit in as part of an overall story, the reader already knows what the general focus of the poem is, so some of the intimidating “analysis” aspect of reading poems is eliminated.

Also, this would be excellent for any reader who is experiencing or has experienced a divorce in their family. Sam’s experience in particular is a very realistic look at what it feels like to be “abandoned.” It ought to be required reading for divorcing parents as well, many of whom don’t really quite understand how their choices are impacting their children. This would also be a great way for parents and teens to open up a conversation about divorce or family relationships.

The First Part Last

The First Part Last, by Angela Johnson. 2002.

This is a strong, emotional read that does something that I think very few books manage – that is, to create a strong, authentic male voice. Bobby is a father – and he’s 16. This was not part of his plan, or his girlfriend, Nia’s, plan…or his parents’ or her parents’ plan, but it’s the reality. And the reality we see Bobby struggle through with Feather, his infant daughter, is a hard one. He is awake night after sleepness night with a newborn, endures hour-long subway ride getting her to daycare every morning before school, all while attempting to maintain some semblance of a life.

The novel, the 2003 Coretta Scott King Author Award Winner, is told in alternating flashbacks, labeled “Now” and “Then.” In the “Now” sections, we see Bobby struggling to learn to be a father to Feather, and the “Then” segments detail the progression of events from the day Bobby learns that Nia is pregnant – on his sixteenth birthday – up to the day that Feather is born. The tension increases throughout the novel as it becomes more and more apparent that the future being planned in the “Then” segments – a future where Bobby and Nia give Feather up for adoption – doesn’t come to be, and the reader is left wondering exactly what happens to alter events so significantly. Additionally, Nia is entirely absent in the “Now” sections, and the question of her absence becomes more and more pressing as the story progresses.

What is apparent – and touching - is the deep and encompassing love that Bobby has for Feather. However, that is a love that is presented with an unflinching rendering of what it costs Bobby – his exhaustion and frustration and fear are palpable, and it culminates in an event that almost costs him everything he has been working so hard to maintain. The costs to Nia are extreme as well, and the effects the pregnancy and birth have on both Bobby’s and Nia’s parents is also moving (perhaps more to this adult reader who finds it very easy to empathize with Bobby’s disappointed and frustrated mom than to teen readers, but Bobby’s dad’s pain – and the guilt that Bobby feels at causing it – is definitely something that anyone who ever disappointed their parents can empathize with).

This is one of those books that you don’t exactly enjoy – it’s not entertaining and happy and something you can’t wait to read over and over – but it’s one that sticks with you, one that you keep thinking about, and that pops into your mind during random moments of the day. It’s beautifully written – the descriptions are spare but exquisite, and the emotion expressed is raw but always dignified. The love Bobby feels for his daughter shines through every line, as does his own fear that he will let her down, that he is not enough, that he won’t be able to do this “Dad” thing correctly. The scene from which the title is derived is so poignant it made me teary: “Things have to change. I’ve been thinking about it. Everything. And when Feather opens her eyes and looks up at me, I already know there’s change. But I figure if the world were really right, humans would live life backward and do the first part last. They’d be all knowing in the beginning and innocent in the end. Then everybody could end their life on their momma or daddy’s stomach in a warm room, waiting for the soft morning light.”

I also loved the characters, Bobby in particular. Because of the intensity of the first-person narration, the other characters aren’t fleshed out as much as supporting characters generally are. However, I think that that works with this novel – Bobby is 16 and in the midst of a massive life change, and all of his focus and energy are riveted on Feather and himself. Therefore, there isn’t room in the narrative for a lot of development of ancillary characters. Bobby is extremely strong, especially considering everything that is happening in his life. Johnson has built a character that explores stereotypes of African-American teens, examining them through Bobby’s friends and his relationships with them as well as through Bobby himself. Bobby plays basketball and gets in trouble for creating street art (adult authority types call it graffiti), but he also is part of a strong, loving family and is determined to provide that for his daughter as well.

Another plus for this book is its very accurate portrayal of what it’s like to be a new parent. Bobby is so exhausted he’s barely functional, he’s lonely, cut off from everything he enjoyed before, and, while he loves Feather, he’s sometimes resentful of everything he’s lost. The reality of the situation is not romanticized – I’m still a new enough parent to remember the feeling that I was going to literally die from sleep deprivation, and I had more help than Bobby gets.

My one real qualm with this novel derives, however, from that goal of presenting the reality of teenage parenting realistically. Toward the end of the story, the readers discover what happened when Feather was born that changes Bobby’s mind about his plans for adoption. It is harrowing and tragic, but it almost pushes the cautionary part of the tale a little too far. The novel becomes almost “back to school special”-ish in its warnings about the possible serious consequences of teenage sex and pregnancy. It’s not enough to totally derail the work, but it did strain my suspension of disbelief a little, and was the one weak note in this otherwise magnificent piece.

I would not hesitate in recommending The First Part Last to any teen, middle or high school level. The subject matter – teen sex and pregnancy – is a little older, but there are no explicit scenes in it, and the problem with waiting until teens are older to discuss matters of sex and sexuality is that it’s really easy to wait too long. I would not hesitate to use this book in my classes, and, though it’s a relatively short work, it gives a reader a lot to think about.

Avalon High

Avalon High, by Meg Cabot.

Ellie Harrison is bummed. Her parents, medieval studies professors, have taken a year’s sabbatical to write their very boring books – her father’s book is about some rusty old sword, and her mother’s about Elaine, the Lady of Shallott – the Arthurian figure for whom Ellie was named. What this means to Ellie is that she has to move to the Washington D.C. area, and spend her entire junior year in a brand new school, where she knows noone and has no friends.

Things start looking up when she meets Will, the very hot quarterback and president of the senior class, who seems very interested in her and tells her that he feels like he knew her in another life. That would be even more flattering and exciting (if still a little weird) if Will weren’t already dating Jennifer, the head cheerleader and best-looking girl in the senior class. Regardless, Ellie finds herself drawn into Will’s circle, with Jennifer and Lance, Will’s best friend. Of course, that means she has to interact with Marco, Will’s nasty step-brother who seems to have a grudge against his new sibling.

Mr. Morton, Ellie’s world studies teacher, is another dark spot in Ellie's days. He seems overly interested in Ellie’s new friends, and also seems very interested in throwing Ellie together with Lance, and keeping her away from Will. Plus, he’s even more obsessed with medieval junk than Ellie’s parents – apparently, he believes that King Arthur of Camelot will be reborn and return – and that maybe he already has.

Events start moving more and more quickly, and Ellie begins to realize that she and her new friends are in real danger – and, very possibly, the entire world is at risk as well. Everyone, including Mr. Morton, begins to abandon them, but Ellie is determined that she will stay by Will to the end, a vow she may be called to make good on.

I liked this book a lot. It’s a great book for an Arthurian junkie, and if you’re a real buff (for instance, if you spent approximately $15,000 worth of your college education on classes about Arthur and medieval lit), you might even spot the twist ending a little ahead of time and feel majorly smug with your bad self. Even if you don’t, though, it is a compelling, fast-paced story with great characters and just the right hint of light romance.

Another positive aspect to this book is Ellie’s relationship with her parents. Despite the fact that they have their differences, they are a close and affectionate family. Will frequently comments on that, as Ellie’s relationship with her parents is a foil for Will’s dysfunctional home life. It's nice to read a YA book where the parents aren't dead or evil.

The one weakness involves that character of Mr. Morton. He’s a device by which the main characters begin to realize what’s going on, but he’s not much of a character in his own right, and the whole “revelation” he presents to Ellie is a little awkward. If he were more developed, or even more a part of the action of the novel, his actions would incorporate more smoothly with the storyline. But that’s a small bump in an overall great book. If you enjoy these characters, and would like to see more of them there are three sequels, written in graphic novel form: The Merlin Prophecy (Avalon High: Coronation, Volume 1), Avalon High: Coronation #2: Homecoming, and Avalon High: Coronation #3: Hunter's Moon.