Finding Esme. By Suzanne Crowley.
Greenwillow/HarperCollins. $16.99.
So Done. By Paula Chase. Greenwillow/HarperCollins. $16.99.
The notion of “finding oneself” is so
commonplace in novels for preteens as to be endemic. In the case of Suzanne
Crowley’s Finding Esme, it is through
finding something else that the protagonist is supposed to learn just who she
is and where she belongs. That protagonist, 12-year-old Esme McCauley, has been
unhappily disaffected for three months, ever since her much-loved grandfather,
Paps, died of a heart attack while riding his tractor on the family farm, at a
place called Solace Hill. Esme is sure Paps has been trying to tell her
something about the location ever since his death. Since she has apparently
inherited from her grandmother, Bee, the ability to locate things by using a
witching stick, Esme searches the area where Paps died and, lo and behold,
finds a cache of dinosaur bones. The spot is easy to find, since the tractor
Paps was riding has not been moved for three months; why it has taken Esme that
long to do her search is never quite clear. Nor is it ever clear why she
hesitates to tell anyone what she has found: the family farm is about to go
into foreclosure, and it would be logical that anything Esme could find that might help would be something with which
she would want to help. In any case,
she cannot tell her father about the discovery, because he ran off three years ago;
she cannot tell her mother, June Rain, who does nothing these days but sit on
the couch; and she cannot even tell Bee, who is too busy selling honey and
peaches to keep the farm going to find time to move the tractor, much less
listen to Esme. All of this strains credulity, and the names that are supposed
to be meaningful (Bee, June Rain, Solace) are as irritating as the cuteness
that various townspeople exhibit whenever they show up in the story. It is left
to Esme’s friend Finch, who discovers Esme’s find and tells a paleontologist
about the bones, to get the plot moving in the direction of saving the farm and
family. Crowley sets the story in 1972, for no particular reason, and the
references to the time period will not likely have any meaning for the target
audience of 21st-century preteens. The strongest element of Finding Esme is Esme herself: she is a
pleasant protagonist with a realistic-sounding voice, despite the flaws in
developing and explaining her motivations. But her character alone cannot and
does not carry the book particularly successfully, in the absence of better
secondary characters and a more fully formed story arc.
The setting is emphatically today,
complete with emoji-filled text messages, and the setting is urban rather than
rural, in Paula Chase’s So Done. Here
the focus is on finding out what friendship really means and how it changes and
survives as young people grow. The young people here, who are both 13 even
though the book’s target age range is 8-12, are longtime best friends Metai
(Tai) Johnson and Jamila (Mila) Phillips. The book is told, as books of this
sort so often are, in chapters alternating between the protagonists. The girls
have been together since they were toddlers growing up in a typically gritty
low-income housing project. Now they still have a love of dance in common, and
are both looking forward to an audition for a distinguished program for
talented fine-arts students. But how much else do they still have in common? That
is the core issue of the novel. The girls’ personalities have, it seems, always
been opposite: Mila is quiet and laid-back, looking forward to getting out of
the city, and she feels free after spending a summer in the suburbs with her Aunt
Jaq and older sister; Tai, on the other hand, loves the urban energy of their
longtime neighborhood and is happy there. Tai has been eagerly awaiting Mila’s
return to the city because Tai and her crush, Roland, have grown closer over
the summer and Tai wants Mila to share the enthusiasm. But there is distance
between the two girls when they re-engage, possibly because of a mysterious
incident at Tai’s house that makes Mila afraid to go there. So the book
progresses through the standard concerns of uncertain friendship, growing-up
questions, untold secrets, and friends moving in different directions – all
while being as with-it as possible in exploring African-American speech
patterns, hairstyles, and even preoccupations with longtime nicknames that will
not go away (Mila no longer wants to be called Bean). So Done is aimed squarely at African-American preteen girl readers,
who will likely find at least some elements of it appealing. But beneath the
trappings of language, hair and references to tough street life, the book’s
story is an entirely familiar one that never goes in any unexpected direction.
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