All Rise for the Honorable Perry
T. Cook. By Leslie Connor. Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins. $16.99.
Teddy Mars, Book #1: Almost a
World Record Breaker. By Molly B. Burnham. Illustrated by Trevor Spencer.
Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins. $6.99.
Teddy Mars, Book #2: Almost a
Winner. By Molly B. Burnham. Illustrated by Trevor Spencer. Katherine
Tegen/HarperCollins. $16.99.
The Magnificent Mya Tibbs: Spirit
Week Showdown. By Crystal Allen. Balzer+Bray/HarperCollins. $16.99.
Not all adventure books for
preteens are of the grand sort; not all are heroic quests or delvings into
far-flung fantasy worlds. Some are far more modest in scope, far more tied to real-world
personal, school and family matters, and far more interested in connecting with
readers through characters with recognizable personalities than they are in
creating larger-than-life protagonists. Even in books of this sort, though,
there is plenty of room for offbeat and unusual characters and/or situations.
Leslie Connor’s All Rise for the
Honorable Perry T. Cook, for instance, goes out of its way to show the
characters as just ordinary, regular, recognizable people – because Connor’s
setting is so off-the-beaten-path. It is a prison, where 11-year-old Perry has
always lived. His mother is serving time in the Blue River Co-Ed Correctional
Facility in Surprise, Nebraska, and this is the only home Perry has ever known.
A sympathetic warden has made all this possible, believing that it would be
good for Perry’s mom’s rehabilitation to have her son with her – and good for
Perry to be with his mother rather than in a series of foster homes. The other
prisoners accept the arrangement, and Perry has learned about the good
underlying them despite the crimes they have committed; and he has been
something of a civilizing influence on everyone. Into this rather idyllic and
decidedly unrealistic situation steps an ambitious and hard-edged new district
attorney named Thomas VanLeer, and suddenly everything changes: Perry is forced
to stay with the VanLeer family as a foster child, and cannot be there for his
mother in the weeks leading up to her upcoming parole hearing – and her parole
itself may be jeopardized because Perry has been staying with her all his life.
Connor here takes the fact that some prisons do make special provisions for
women who are pregnant or have recently given birth, and imagines what might
happen if one such facility allowed mothers to raise their children throughout
the kids’ early years. The whole book whitewashes criminals and makes prisons
seem a great deal more pleasant and welcoming than they in fact are; and of
course, as a worried Perry investigates the never-before-explained reasons for
his mom being in jail in the first place, he discovers that she is not really
guilty of anything but went to prison to protect someone else. Everybody on the
inside is so warm, so good and so misunderstood here that it seems obvious that
society should imprison people on the outside – starting with VanLeer – rather
than keep the jail cells locked. This is an unusual book and certainly a
well-meaning one, but it will be upsetting for sensitive readers in the 8-12
target age range, who are likely to wonder why all the genuinely good people
are in jail while the bad ones are their jailers. Cynics would suggest that the
real world is indeed a bit like that, but Connor takes the notion to an extreme
without any cynicism at all. The eventual happy ending here is inevitable, but
young readers and their families should not be misled into thinking it is
anywhere within the realm of real-world possibility.
There is somewhat more
real-world feeling to the first two Teddy Mars series books by Molly B. Burnham:
Almost a World Record Breaker,
originally released last year and now available in paperback, and the new Almost a Winner. The illustrations by
Trevor Spencer are a big part of the attraction of these books, in which the
title character is desperate to stand out in his large, sprawling family by
breaking some sort of record. Any sort of record. Teddy’s family is the Mars
Menagerie (his dad actually calls it that). Teddy, who is 10, has five older
sisters and a younger brother, Jake, whom he calls The Destructor. He has two
best friends, as is usual in family-oriented preteen novels; they are Lonnie
and Viva. The Teddy Mars books are exceptionally easy to read, not only because
of the numerous illustrations but also because every chapter is amply
subdivided. A two-page spread may contain as many as four subheads plus an
illustration, or perhaps three illustrations, or something along those lines.
The books’ characters are standard silly-suburbia types, notably including
Grumpy Pigeon Man, whose real name is Mr. Marney and who lives next door to the
Mars family. Teddy is preoccupied with getting into the Guinness Book of Records,
because that way he will be distinguished and known to all and not merely the
sixth of seven children and the repeated victim of a five-year-old monster of a
little brother. The point of these books is to see and hear all the silly
things Teddy does to draw attention to himself, and all the ways he fails.
Numerous short failed-record-attempt sections alternate with little
family-problem sections. For instance, in the first book, The Destructor breaks
up Maggie’s soccer game by running onto the field and stealing the ball. Later,
Teddy tells Lonnie and Viva what happened: “You mean after the referee yelled
at my parents? Maggie ran home and isn’t speaking to anyone. Sharon declared no
one is invited to see her musical and isn’t speaking to anyone but is still
singing. The twins aren’t speaking to anyone because they’re still mad about
picking up trash. Grace isn’t speaking to anyone (no one knows why) but it
doesn’t seem so bad to me. And The Destructor is living in his cat box, talking
all the time.” This is supposed to be madcap humor, and some readers may find
it to be; others may have a hard time keeping track of the many characters’ comings
and goings, or understanding why they should. The world-record attempts and
pigeon-care episodes are pretty repetitious, although young readers should find
them enjoyable for a while. The climax of the first book comes when Teddy
actually does break a world record – thanks to the amount of time he spends
trying to get away from The Destructor – and the second book revolves around the
decision by Teddy’s entire class to go into record-breaking-attempt mode,
leading to rivalries and hurt feelings and Teddy’s discovery that maybe, for a
change, he ought to try not to break
a record because maybe there are more important things in life than that. Even
the most-basic plot overview of the Teddy Mars books shows that they are
supposed to be heartwarming, and to some extent they are, but the constant “My
To-Do List” entries and other lists (“It’s hard to dye eggs when,” followed by
nine items) tend to become repetitive; the antics of The Destructor wear thin
quickly (and the Mars parents’ lack of interest in controlling him is actually
troubling); and Teddy’s “record” focus keeps veering in the direction of
obsession and sometimes seems to arrive there. Ultimately, the various
characters in these books simply are not interesting enough in themselves to
sustain the events – they are defined by what they do (Teddy tries to break
records, The Destructor messes things up), not by anything they are or have
inside. Burnham is scarcely the only author of books for ages 8-12 to create
superficial characters, and the ones here do have occasional glimmers of
personality. But the Teddy Mars books seem designed mostly for young readers
who do not want anything with even the slightest hint of meaning or genuine
thoughtfulness.
Crystal Allen’s The Magnificent Mya Tibbs: Spirit Week
Showdown is the start of its own series and is aimed at a narrower age
range than the books by Connor and Burnham: 8-10 rather than 8-12. The
eponymous protagonist is a nine-year-old who is stereotypically well-meaning
but prone to making mistakes. She is obsessed with cowgirls and inclined to
tell tall tales. Her predilections get her in trouble and result in her being
nicknamed “Mya Tibbs Fibs” and ostracized by the whole school. She also ends up
being paired for Spirit Week with the school bully, Connie Tate. Initially
desperate to get her friends back – at least the girls she thinks are her friends – Mya keeps getting more deeply into minor
but, for a fourth-grader, emotionally significant trouble. All this occurs
against the background of the upcoming Spirit Week, which means Mya has no
choice but to deal with Connie, whom she discovers to be different from what
everyone thinks and maybe not so bad at all. In fact, Mya herself is not what
everyone thinks she is, so there is a bond developing between the two girls –
but Allen makes sure to put bumps in the road to understanding, happiness and
success. They are not very big ones, but they loom large for the exuberant Mya.
This is really a book for girls in a narrow age range, featuring Mya herself as
narrator of her trials and tribulations. For any boys who may consider reading
the book, Mya does have an older brother in fifth grade. His name is Micah, but
as Mya notes, she calls him Nugget “because his skin is brown and his head is shaped
like a chunk of chicken. He thinks I named him after a piece of gold." Mya
is inclined to critique Nugget for making essentially the same socially-focused
relationship mistakes that Mya herself makes; but of course Mya is not sufficiently
self-aware to see the parallels. This element of the book is rather strained,
and Nugget is not much of a character, although he could emerge in later series
entries. The best part of this particular novel is its awareness of the ways in
which bullying can take many forms other than the physical: the manipulative,
controlling insensitivity of Mya’s classmates is more subtle than any physical
attack, but can leave scars just as deep. Allen does not explore this theme in
depth, however; indeed, there is little depth to this story, which hints at
issues but – because of the age range at which it is aimed – does not delve too
deeply into them. The readers who will enjoy this book and its sequels will be
those who consider themselves “spunky,” an old-fashioned word that seems just
right to describe the spirited Mya’s mixture of enthusiasm and shallow but
pleasant charm.
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