In this sharply cast but overly managed story, three kids, two of them sisters, are thrown together when the girls' divorced father decides to share their two-week island vacation with his widowed "friend" Delores, John D.'s mother. All three kids are disgruntled with the arrangement, even before they meet, and their discontent is set when they do meet—with seventh-grader John D. and his mother walking in on Clara, his age, and Deanie, a little older, in the midst of one of the sisters' dumb fights. The scene itself has its satisfactions, though, for John D.—an outsider type who has cultivated an air of calm disdain, even toward his mother? and who delights in administering the perfect put-down (though he seems easily humiliated himself). Gloats John D., "Coming into the house and finding the girls screaming insults at each other, perfect insults—insults that told him everything he wanted to know about them—well. . . it was like one of those TV shows. . . ." This is just one example of Byars' use here of standard, stagey devices which she then identifies as such—as if to let us know that she knows better. In a more central flaunting of this practice, a native on the airplane going in warns John D.'s mother about the local currents. There have already been two drownings this year, the man tells her. "The way he said it made John D. think of a disaster movie made cheaply for TV"—and so all through the book whenever Clara goes swimming you expect her to be swept out to sea. . . until at last she is, snoozing on an inflated float. Byars stretches out the premonition of danger until John D. becomes alarmed and mobilizes Deanie. But they have no boat, and Clara is missing for hours before an alerted fishing boat picks her up. Meanwhile the raft is found, Clara is presumed lost, and Deanie—hitherto preoccupied with cheerleading tryouts, the perfect tan, and tormenting her sister—gives in to Delores' friendly overtures and blubbers about all the times she was mean to Clara. The crisis over, the group has been consolidated and Deanie is pretty much back to normal. Clara, who's been generally miserable all along, feels joy in surviving and conviction that she has, inexpressibly, changed. Having witnessed her terror and tenacity at sea, we can accept this. John D.'s breakthrough into caring and feeling, though, is a little too neat. "He felt as if he had been drawn into a strong unknown current himself, swept out of a safe harbor into dangerous waters," says Byars, neglecting this time to note that his thoughts sound like cheap melodrama. No doubt John D. needed to be shocked into such a recognition, even at the risk of seeming less than cool. And Byars makes him interesting from the start, with his wry observations and obvious emotional inadequacy. In fact she plays all three children off against each other with sympathy, understanding, and a sure sense of dramatic revelation. However, this falls short of the penetrating warmth and conviction of Byars at her best.
Pub Date: April 1, 1982
ISBN: 0370309146
Page Count: 123
Publisher: Delacorte
Review Posted Online: April 18, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 1982
Broccoli: No way is James going to eat broccoli. “It’s disgusting,” says James. Well then, James, says his father, let’s consider the alternatives: some wormy dirt, perhaps, some stinky socks, some pre-chewed gum? James reconsiders the broccoli, but—milk? “Blech,” says James. Right, says his father, who needs strong bones? You’ll be great at hide-and-seek, though not so great at baseball and kickball and even tickling the dog’s belly. James takes a mouthful. So it goes through lumpy oatmeal, mushroom lasagna and slimy eggs, with James’ father parrying his son’s every picky thrust. And it is fun, because the father’s retorts are so outlandish: the lasagna-making troll in the basement who will be sent back to the rat circus, there to endure the rodent’s vicious bites; the uneaten oatmeal that will grow and grow and probably devour the dog that the boy won’t be able to tickle any longer since his bones are so rubbery. Schneider’s watercolors catch the mood of gentle ribbing, the looks of bewilderment and surrender and the deadpanned malarkey. It all makes James’ father’s last urging—“I was just going to say that you might like them if you tried them”—wholly fresh and unexpected advice. (Early reader. 5-9)
Pub Date: May 1, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-547-14956-1
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: April 4, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2011
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.
In Florence’s middle-grade fantasy novel, a young girl’s heart is tested in the face of an evil, spreading Darkness.
Eleven-year-old Lydia, “freckle-cheeked and round-eyed, with hair the color of pine bark and fair skin,” is struggling with the knowledge that she has reached the age to apprentice as an herbalist. Lydia is reluctant to leave her beloved, magical Mulberry Glen and her cozy Housetree in the woods—she’ll miss Garder, the Glen’s respected philosopher; her fairy guardian Pit; her human friend Livy; and even the mischievous part-elf, part-imp, part-human twins Zale and Zamilla. But the twins go missing after hearing of a soul-sapping Darkness that has swallowed a forest and is creeping into minds and engulfing entire towns. They have secretly left to find a rare fruit that, it is said, will stop the Darkness if thrown into the heart of the mountain that rises out of the lethal forest. Lydia follows, determined to find the twins before they, too, fall victim to the Darkness. During her journey, accompanied by new friends, she gradually realizes that she herself has a dangerous role to play in the quest to stop the Darkness. In this well-crafted fantasy, Florence skillfully equates the physical manifestation of Darkness with the feelings of insecurity and powerlessness that Lydia first struggles with when thinking of leaving the Glen. Such negative thoughts grow more intrusive the closer she and her friends come to the Darkness—and to Lydia’s ultimate, powerfully rendered test of character, which leads to a satisfyingly realistic, not quite happily-ever-after ending. Highlights include a delightfully haunting, reality-shifting library and a deft sprinkling of Latin throughout the text; Pit’s pet name for Lydia is mea flosculus (“my little flower”). Fine-lined ink drawings introducing each chapter add a pleasing visual element to this well-grounded fairy tale.
An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.Pub Date: Jan. 7, 2025
ISBN: 9781956393095
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Waxwing Books
Review Posted Online: Oct. 14, 2024
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2025
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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