(++++) SYMPHONIC EXPANSIVENESS

Mahler: Symphony No. 2. Anne Schwanewilms, soprano; Lioba Braun, contralto; Chor der Bamberger Symphoniker and Bamberger Symphoniker-Bayerische Staatsphilharmonie conducted by Jonathan Nott. Tudor. $29.99 (2 SACDs).

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 8. Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vasily Petrenko. Naxos. $8.99.

     The gigantism of symphonies of the late 19^th century is scarcely news: Bruckner’s overwhelming architectural sound edifices tower over an era in which the symphonic form seemed to expand and expand again – think of Anton Rubinstein’s seven-movement Symphony No. 2, “Ocean,” as just one less-known example among many. But for many listeners, hugeness of symphonic construction is practically synonymous with Gustav Mahler, who was quite capable of creating a symphony lasting nearly as long as an opera (the six-movement Third). Mahler’s five-movement Second, the “Resurrection,” is not much shorter, but its length has not prevented it from becoming a staple of the orchestral repertoire, more so than ever now that the centenary of Mahler’s death will occur next year. There are many very fine performances of Mahler’s Second, the best of them striking a careful balance between the huge and overwhelming sound in some sections and the tremendous delicacy – very carefully scored – in others. Jonathan Nott’s new, sonically outstanding Second, a live recording, is an especially strong entry in the Mahler field. Nott does not hesitate to pull out all the stops in the funeral march of the first movement, which swells, bursts and crashes repeatedly to the point of leaving a listener nearly exhausted. Mahler actually expected this effect – he said there should be a pause of at least five minutes between this movement and the next, much gentler one. Some versions of the Second pay at least minimal homage to Mahler’s wishes by isolating the first movement on the first disc and putting all the others on the second, but not this one: the first and second movements are on the first SACD, the remaining three on the other. This juxtaposes the first and second movements more closely than Mahler wanted, but it also gives a listener quicker relaxation from the opening movement’s extreme drama. Nott makes the second movement slow and gentle – a strong contrast to his speedy, intense conclusion of the first – and thereby changes the mood almost instantaneously. The pastoral atmosphere of this movement yields to a more-intense scherzo than usual, with Nott emphasizing its angularity and grotesquerie more than its gentle flow. Because of this approach, the vocal entry at the start of the fourth movement is – as in the transition from first movement to second – a greater contrast than is typically heard. And Lioba Braun really is a contralto, comfortable in a range that can be a strain for the mezzo-sopranos who are often called on to sing this movement. After Braun’s dark-hued voice, the crashing opening of the finale is highly dramatic – here again, Nott brings out the strongest possible contrasts between and within movements. The purely orchestral part of the finale is especially impassioned in this performance: Nott turns up the emotional temperature well before the chorus enters. When it does, at the very edge of audibility (and with sound captured carefully by the SACD engineers), there is warmth and beauty aplenty, which builds through the words of Mahler and Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock to an overwhelming sense of hope and expectation of eternal life. The broad affirmation of the symphony’s end is very much in keeping with Nott’s emphasis throughout on its grand scale and intensity. This is not an especially warm Mahler Second, but it is a dramatic and highly effective interpretation.

     Nearly 50 years separate Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 from Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 8 – his second big wartime symphony, following by a year and a half No. 7, the “Leningrad.” The Eighth is more complex structurally than the Seventh – among other things, its fourth movement is the composer’s first orchestral passacaglia – but is every bit as subject to bombast and overstatement if a conductor does not control it carefully. Vasily Petrenko, the young Russian who is Chief Conductor of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, maintains a firm command of the Eighth throughout, and the result is an outstandingly successful performance. From the start, when the orchestra’s lower strings growl with all the burnished darkness of those of a Russian orchestra, it is clear that Petrenko, who is only 34, has already taken the measure of this music and found a way to communicate its depths to the players. There is tremendous drama and vitality here – the symphony’s moods shift frequently, and there is conflict aplenty, but in the end there is positive affirmation instead of the rather wan hope offered in an almost obligatory way in its predecessor (which, to be sure, was written in darker days of World War II). As the Eighth progresses, Petrenko handles each movement on its individual terms while maintaining a solid overview of the entire work. The second-movement Allegretto is filled with rudeness and crudity – but there are also flashes of elegance, notably in the high winds. The third movement is astonishing, perhaps the best ever recorded. It is raucous to the point of vulgarity: a nonstop clatter of screeching winds, pounding timpani and cutting trumpets atop snare-drum exclamations. It is so intense that the contrast with the fourth-movement Largo is even starker than usual. This movement is sweet, restrained and very moving – and leads directly into a finale that opens features a whimsical bassoon early on, but soon becomes so intense (and loud) that it is nearly overwhelming. But Petrenko shapes this concluding Allegretto carefully, allowing it to blare but making sure there is something ineffable about its quiet coda. This is the third CD of Shostakovich symphonies that Petrenko has recorded for Naxos – after No. 11 and a disc pairing Nos. 5 and 9 – and it is at least as good as the first two, which were also excellent. A full Shostakovich cycle from Petrenko is shaping up as something to celebrate.

(++++) THE STRINGS HAVE IT

Bottesini: Fantasia on Themes of Rossini; Passioni amorose; Gran Duetto No. 2; Concerto for Two Double Basses and Piano. Thomas Martin and Timothy Cobb, double basses; Christopher Oldfather, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

Vieuxtemps: Fantasia appassionata, Op. 35; Ballade et Polonaise, Op. 38; Fantaisie Caprice, Op. 11; Greeting to America, Op. 56. Misha Keylin, violin; Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Andrew Mogrelia. Naxos. $8.99.

Mendelssohn: String Quartets in E-flat, Op.“0,” and No. 3 in D, Op. 44, No. 1; Tema con variazoni, Op. 81, No. 1; Scherzo, Op. 81, No. 2. New Zealand String Quartet (Helene Pohl and Douglas Beilman, violins; Gillian Ansell, viola; Rolf Gjelsten, cello). Naxos. $8.99.

     From the lowest string instruments to the highest, virtuosity is the order of the day on these new CDs. The fifth Naxos release of music by famed 19^th-century double-bass player Giovanni Bottesini goes the earlier discs one better by presenting works for two double basses. Far from being lumbering or cumbersome pieces, these are, if not exactly light-footed, rather light-hearted, and in fact there are dance movements that show the instruments’ capabilities in some surprising ways. The opening Tarantella of the Fantasia on Themes of Rossini, for example, is a genuine surprise in its bounciness – although no more so than the Serenata that follows, in which the players extract considerable emotion from their very low instruments. The concerto-like Passioni amorose also requires the bass players to perform with a mixture of sensitivity and style, and in fact the virtuosity demanded in this piece and the others on this CD is considerable: these are all early Bottesini works that he used to show just how far the capabilities of his instrument could be extended. The Grand Duetto No. 2, second of three Bottesini works in this form, was written for two three-stringed instruments and is performed that way here; this makes the double stopping in its central Andante particularly interesting. The Concerto for Two Double Basses and Piano, which Bottesini later transformed into his better-known Gran Duo Concertante for Double Bass and Violin, is actually more impressive in its original version, being filled with complementary and competing flourishes for the instruments and a finale that increases in tempo right to the very end. Thomas Martin and Timothy Cobb play all these works with great flair, which is exactly what they need, and Christopher Oldfather backs the bassists up well while remaining appropriately in the background.

     The more-familiar string virtuosity of the violin is front and center in the music of Henry Vieuxtemps, who is best known for his seven concertos but also produced quite a few shorter works. The four played by Misha Keylin are filled with complex bowing techniques, double- and triple-stops, harmonics and speedy passages, but also require a light touch and singing tone – with many of these elements juxtaposed within a short time. Thus, in the Fantasia appassionata, a lovely and initially simple tune becomes more strongly ornamented and complex until it eventually requires high-level virtuosity. The Ballade et Polonaise begins with quiet wistfulness and then becomes increasingly lively, with a brilliant conclusion. The Fantaisie Caprice has more than its share of sweet, singing moments, although it too eventually builds to fast and challenging double stops at the end. And the posthumously published Greeting to America, one of several works written by Vieuxtemps during American tours, is pure fun, building from pizzicato orchestral strings to a combination of “Yankee Doodle,” “The Star-Spangled Banner” and plenty of violinistic fireworks. Andrew Mogrelia and the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra ably back up Keylin’s delightful handling of these superficial but thoroughly enjoyable works.

     There is greater seriousness for strings in the third and last volume of the New Zealand String Quartet’s Mendelssohn cycle. This CD includes Mendelssohn’s earliest completed quartet, written when he was 14 – which, it should be noted, was not “young” for the boy genius, who had already created numerous string symphonies and other finely crafted works. Although the Quartet Op. “0” is not as technically demanding or emotionally expressive as Mendelssohn’s later ones, it is well structured and includes, as its finale, a particularly impressive fugue. Also here is the D Major work from Op. 44, the first of three in that set although the last of them to be written. The New Zealand players clearly appreciate both the drama and the songfulness of this work, performing it with strength and beauty in equal measure and providing some real thrills in the Presto con brio finale. The CD also includes two movements that Mendelssohn wrote in the last year of his life, presumably intending them to become part of another quartet, which he was never to finish. The Tema con variazoni is elegant and well wrought; the Scherzo, which is somewhat reminiscent of the early music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, shows a lightness of spirit that has come to be thought of as Mendelssohnian. All these works are performed here with fine ensemble and an excellent sense of give-and-take among the performers – their complete set of the Mendelssohn Quartets is simply top-notch.

(++++) BOARD BOOKS AND BEYOND

Sheep in a Jeep. By Nancy Shaw. Illustrated by Margot Apple. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $6.99.

Sheep on a Ship. By Nancy Shaw. Illustrated by Margot Apple. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $6.99.

Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel. By Virginia Lee Burton. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $11.99.

Kisses. By Barney Saltzberg. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $13.99.

Country Road ABC. By Arthur Geisert. Houghton Mifflin. $17.

     You know we live in a multimedia universe when even the board books have extras inside. The wonderfully idiosyncratic “Sheep” books by Nancy Shaw and Margot Apple are fun in every way, shape and form, and they make delightful small board books because of their simple and silly stories and wonderful rhymes and alliteration: “Sheep shove. Sheep grunt. Sheep don’t think to look up front.” Even young children already familiar with the car-wrecking and ship-destroying antics of the sheep will enjoy hearing these books again and again, and learning to read them, too. But now there is more: each book contains a construction project in the inside back cover. Sheep in a Jeep explains how to “make your very own soft and fluffy sheep” from construction paper, cotton balls, and a few other everyday items. Sheep on a Ship, which features the sheep dressed as pirates (inept ones), shows “How to Make a Pirate Hat” from a large sheet of paper, then decorate it with markers, stickers, glitter or what-have-you. In truth, the books themselves are so enjoyable that no additional amusement is necessary; but there is certainly no harm in reading and rereading these modern classics (Jeep dates to 1986, Ship to 1989), then having some additional fun with activities tied into the books.

     There are no additional activities in the lap-size board-book version of Virginia Lee Burton’s wonderful Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, but just having this 1939 classic available in a form suitable for the youngest readers (and pre-readers) is treat enough. To be sure, some parts of the book now seem quaint and will require some explaining for 21^st-century children, such as the reference to “the girl who answers the telephone [who] called up the next towns and told them what was happening.” And the whole issue of steam shovels being supplanted by “the new gasoline shovels and the new electric shovels and the new Diesel motor shovels,” which made sense in the 1930s, has little meaning today. But the basic story – about overcoming adversity and refusing to be “put out to pasture” – still resonates; and the charm with which Burton tells and illustrates it (right up to the final page, with a happy Mary Anne – the steam shovel – in a new role, and with Mike still beside her) is as endearing as ever. In fact, parents may want to think of the importance of giving the book a bit of historical context and explanation as a little something extra that they can add to this heartwarming story.

     The extras in Kisses are built right into the book itself. This is one of the busiest board books you are likely to find. Its subtitle describes it perfectly: “A Pull, Touch, Lift, Squeak, and SMOOCH Book!” Barney Saltzberg’s creativity is in overdrive here, from the big red fluffy heart that peeks through the cover, to the foldouts showing cutely drawn animals getting kisses in unexpected ways, to the pull tabs that sometimes produce surprising results (one little dog gets a kiss on the head – pull the tab and his ears go from floppy to standing straight up). The interactive elements are of all sorts: one page has a standard-size pull tab, for example, but another has a huge one that changes the appearance of half the page. There are also things to feel (a frog’s skin, a kangaroo’s tail), plus some really clever design elements (a star-filled night sky becomes, when a tab is pulled, a sky filled with hearts). The book ends with the alphabet spread across two pages, the letters printed on tabs that, when opened, show animals kissing underneath – with one letter on top of a squeaker that kids can press. This is an exceptionally clever oversize board book that has no theme except that kisses are nice and you can never have too many; but its conclusion with the alphabet can turn it into an early-learning experience as well as a taste of sheer enjoyment.

     When kids go beyond board books altogether and start to learn the alphabet in earnest, they will find many, many books to help them along. An especially interesting one is Arthur Geisert’s Country Road ABC, because this self-proclaimed “illustrated journey through America’s farmland” is filled with words rarely if ever seen in alphabet books – but absolutely correctly used and clearly applicable to farming. Thus, “A” here is not for “apple” but for “ammonia fertilizer,” and “D” is not for “dog” but for “disking” (with a very well-done illustration showing how a plow turns and loosens the soil). “F” is for “fencing,” and we see a fence being built; “I” is for “inoculate,” as the farmer and two boys give protective injections to piglets; “M” is for “milking,” with an excellent illustration of modern milking equipment in operation. Geisert’s choices of words are highly creative: “U,” for example, is for “uphill,” and “W” for “winter afternoon” (an indoor scene with warmly dressed people relaxing). The “Farm Glossary” at the end of the book explains every word and term in a book that has educational value – and visual interest – far beyond those of most alphabet books. City and suburban dwellers will probably not want this to be a child’s very first alphabet book: some of the concepts are on the difficult side for urban residents unfamiliar with rural life. But as kids learn their letters and become bored when the same words appear again and again in book after book, Country Road ABC can offer a fascinating expansion of knowledge as well as sound reinforcement of the basics of the alphabet.

(++++) REALITY BITES – OR NIBBLES, ANYWAY

Any Body’s Guess! By Michael J. Rosen, Ben Kassoy, and M. Sweeney Lawless. Andrews McMeel. $9.99.

Sneaky Science Tricks. By Cy Tymony. Andrews McMeel. $10.99.

     Here are a couple of offbeat, even quirky little books that are filled with small bits of information that will be great fun not only for trivia buffs but also – and this is what makes them special – for people with a serious interest in the way the human body works (Any Body’s Guess!) and the way science can be used to do some things that appear decidedly nonscientific (Sneaky Science Tricks). The “body” book asks a series of questions and, in giving the answers, reveals some surprising and often quite fascinating things about how our bodies are constructed and how (and why) they work the way they do. For example, one question provides a partial quotation for an advertisement for a depilatory – and uses the answer to discuss how it has happened that humans are the only hairless primates, and how the loss of our once-plentiful body hair led to a change in the habits of ticks, fleas and other bloodsuckers, which used to infest humans in great quantities (although the adaptable body louse simply moved along to infest clothing). A “bonus” section for this question offers methods of getting rid of unwanted body hair, in the process explaining that Roman soldiers plucked their beards. The whole book is like this, zipping along from pop culture to scientific inquiry to historical explanation, often all within a page or two. Another example: “In the 1940s, three quarters of all Americans could do this in their sleep. Today, just over a tenth of Americans do.” This turns out to refer to dreaming in black-and-white – and brings along a discussion about dreams and memory, including the fact that we have forgotten half a dream’s content within five minutes of its end, and 90% of the content 10 minutes later. The authors – Michael J. Rosen provides most of the material – really do a fine job of making this book stand out among the many trivia tomes out there. The presentations and questions often sound like standard “factoids,” but turn out not to be: “Currently, Americans spend about 847 million hours each year – an average of 70 minutes, every single week, for each of us adults – doing what?” The answer is “receiving medical care,” and that leads into observations about Americans fracturing 5.6 million bones per year and women spending 70% more time than men obtaining medical treatment. Like every book of miscellany – even one that rises above mere trivia – Any Body’s Guess! can be tiring to read straight through; and some parts of its information are more intriguing and thought-provoking than other parts. As a whole, though, this is a remarkably interesting book. Who would have guessed that, in the midst of a discussion of types of tears, there would be the historical note that mourners in ancient Greece used to bottle their tears and bury them with the dead, to prove their great grief?

     Sneaky Science Tricks is more a book to amaze and amuse your friends than one to read quietly while absorbing knowledge. Cy Tymony shows how to do science experiments – mostly simple ones – that demonstrate important principles and also show how science works in the real world. For example, the “Sneaky Rollback Toy,” made from a cardboard container, thick rubber band, bolts and a few other easy-to-find items, stores kinetic energy when you roll it and uses the stored energy to come back to you – even returning uphill if you roll it downhill. Real-world application: this is how hybrid cars work. Or you can make a “Sneaky Compass” with only a paper clip, magnet and pen cap, or can do “Sneaky Direction Finding” on a clear day by simply using an analog watch -- or a three-foot stick plus a rock or leaf. These can be very useful real-world applications in and of themselves (think of being lost in the woods while camping, for example); they also show how scientific theory works in practice. The most enjoyable section of Sneaky Science Tricks is the one called “Sneaky Magic Tricks,” in which the “magic” really is the application of scientific principles. For example, balancing a soda can on its edge on your finger looks like magic – but in fact all you need to do is be sure the can is one-third full, then place it on its edge. Or you can join two books together – without glue or any adhesives – in such a way that they cannot be pulled apart, simply by applying principles of friction and air pressure. The only irritating thing about this book is its insistence on everything being “sneaky,” when in fact there is very little sneaky here; the word is a marketing took along the lines of the “for dummies” books, which are intended for people who are anything but dumb (and “dummies” is even more irritating than “sneaky”). Get past the word itself, though, and you will find plenty of ideas here that, if undeserving of the adjective “sneaky,” are worthy of a far more positive one: “fascinating.”

(+++) HANDLING LIFE’S REVERSES

Verbal First Aid: Help Your Kids Heal from Fear and Pain—and Come Out Strong. By Judith Simon Prager, Ph.D., and Judith Acosta, L.I.S.W. Berkley. $15.

What Would Rob Do? An Irreverent Guide to Surviving Life’s Daily Indignities. By Rob Sachs. Wiley. $16.95.

     Hamlet’s “slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune” are one thing, but the nits and nastinesses of everyday modern life are another. Far from being great elements in the turning of Fortune’s wheel, they are small irritations and pains that can eat away, day after day, at our physical and emotional comfort – and our children’s. Judith Simon Prager (who consults with hospitals on pediatric issues) and Judith Acosta (a licensed independent social worker and homeopath) have a thoroughly modern recipe for handling them. There is more than a whiff of New Age thinking here, although thankfully that element does not emerge fully until the very end of the book, when Prager makes it explicit: “As the mother of two, the stepmother of two, and the grandmother of four precious being on this turbulent jewel of a planet, I have, as I imagine you do – as everyone does – a vested interest in the future. …I see [this book] as a summoning to our full potential to connect and interconnect in a uniquely new way. …[L]et us see with new eyes.” Fortunately, it is not necessary to absorb or accept this pseudo-philosophical underpinning to try the techniques in the book; doubly fortunately, those techniques have real potential to help children through difficult times in their lives and prepare them to handle future problems more effectively. What Prager and Acosta urge parents to do is accept the hurts, physical and emotional, that children will encounter, using “pacing words” to acknowledge what has happened and then providing positive healing suggestions. For example, a parent might say, “Oh, that’s sad” or “Oh, show me where it hurts,” and then, after commiserating with the child, move on to, “Let’s stop the bleeding right away” or “Imagine how much better you will feel as you let the medicine do its job of making you well.” The book is filled with good examples, such as one involving a four-year-old who hits his head hard enough to make it bleed and whose mother has to take him to the hospital. The child gets the primary message that “it’s going to be all right…because you’re a good healer.” And he does heal, and when he injures himself next time, he is able to tell his mother that it will be all right because he knows he is a good healer. Is this a realistic example for most families, or is it way out on the edge of most parents’ capabilities? Prager and Acosta argue that this “verbal first aid” technique can be learned, and that it ought to be a parent’s standard approach to the inevitable setbacks of childhood. “Our lives are not about what happens to us so much as how we perceive what happens,” they write, and while this is a vast oversimplification, it can be a salutary lesson for parents who might otherwise tend to “awfulize” every slight and setback that their children encounter. “Say what you want to have happen, not what you don’t,” the authors advise. What they are recommending is a form of psychosomatic medicine – that is, medicine that takes advantage of the mind-body relationship and the ability of the former to influence the latter. This goes beyond the placebo effect, although it is related to it: “verbal first aid” includes a crucial element of trust, which can lead children to accept healing suggestions that adults might reject as naïve. Prager and Acosta tend to overplay their hand rather too often, as in their chapter on talking about death and the loss experienced by survivors: “It is an awe that can defy description and a pain that can bend a heart that thought it was steeled and ready.” But at least the authors make an attempt to tackle this and other difficult issues. Their prescription is not the panacea they suggest it can be. But it will surely be helpful for many families, in some circumstances if not all. Besides, a reasoned approach like theirs can certainly help calm parents who are faced with children’s hurts and fears – and a calm parent will surely be better able to help an injured, frightened or confused child.

     One thing wholly lacking in Verbal First Aid is a sense of humor, but that is a big part of the prescription in What Would Rob Do? Of course, this is a book for adults – or pseudo-adults, given the rather juvenile nature of much of the writing and many of the examples. Adapted from a National Public Radio podcast, Rob Sachs’ book shows that what works on a computer screen will not always do equally well between traditional book covers. Every single short discussion about the annoyances of everyday life includes the “What Would Rob Do?” phrase, to the point where the phrase itself becomes one of those annoyances. So here is one thing you will not find in the book: “A surfeit of ‘What Would Rob Do?’ ideas – What Would Rob Do?” Rob would presumably laugh all the way to the bank; and in fact, some of his thoughts and suggestions here are quite amusing. But most have a practical bent in addition to a fun factor. Get stopped for speeding? “What works best is to act as penitent as possible.” Looking for the best value at a buffet? “Be moderate in your portions and stay away from the starches.” (And, on the lighter side, “consider bringing your own ladle with an extra-long handle and a wide basket for optimal scooping.”) Looking for a good deal at a flea market? You can “name your price, take out your money, and literally put it in the seller’s hand” so he or she must actually give the money back to reject your offer. As these few examples show, What Would Rob Do? has a little of this, a little of that, and a bit of everything. It’s a hodgepodge – and it’s not entirely about what Rob would do, anyway, since Sachs gets much of the pragmatic advice from people he interviews: appraiser Gordon Converse on antiques, professional poker player Phil Gordon on card games, organization-business owner Jonathan Marder on clutter, and many others. Readers seeking no-nonsense ideas on what to do if stuck in an elevator, cooking a romantic meal, being underdressed for a party, beating a bad habit, losing weight, performing onstage or naming a baby will have to wade through a lot of sidelights, sometimes-amusing commentary and information on Sachs’ background before getting to the kernels of information in What Would Rob Do? But those who find Sachs’ chatty style congenial won’t mind. It is, in fact, the style that will determine whether you enjoy this book or pass it by. There is little new or surprising information here, but what is included is delivered with a certain charm (if you like the way Sachs writes) or a level of overdone boyishness (if you don’t). You pays your money (or you chooses not to) and you takes your choice.

(+++) TO MIDDLE SCHOOL AND BEYOND

Word After Word After Word. By Patricia MacLachlan. Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins. $14.99.

How to Survive Middle School. By Donna Gephart. Delacorte Press. $15.99.

Airhead, Book 3: Runaway. By Meg Cabot. Point/Scholastic. $16.99.

     Making it through middle school seems to be one of the great struggles of childhood, based on the number of books written about how to do it. Some are serious, such as Patricia MacLachlan’s Word After Word After Word. This is a very simply written book, whose large type and brief length (128 pages) make it seem at first glance too easy for ages 8-12. But if the reading is simple, the ideas are not. The story is about an author named Ms. Mirabel who visits a fourth-grade class where Lucy and her four friends – Henry, Evie, Russell and May – are trying to cope with some big life issues. These range from the death of a pet to a new baby, a parent’s remarriage and an ill parent – all things that can affect life anytime, but that seem especially overwhelming for the sensitive fourth-graders. The coping strategy of Ms. Mirabel – and clearly of MacLachlan, speaking through her – is writing. “Sometimes writers write to solve a problem, to answer their own question,” says Ms. Mirabel, and this strikes a chord with these trouble-laden children, who are soon jotting down thoughts in prose and poetry. “We all have a place where we begin,” explains Ms. Mirabel, and each child begins with what he or she is feeling and goes on from there, trying to make sense of what is happening or at least come to terms with it. The book does not tie up neatly; the children do not solve their problems, at least not fully; but the message that writing can help organize thoughts and manage sadness comes through clearly.

     For a more amusing, less dour view of handling life at ages 8-12 – but one in which a pet’s death still plays an important part – there is Donna Gephart’s How to Survive Middle School, whose title could stand for a whole series of books, not just hers. This book takes readers through familiar themes, including a friend lost and regained, a parent out of touch and unavailable, and a school bully. But 11-year-old David Greenberg (called “Lameberg” by the bully and his cohorts) does have some things that set him apart from other middle-schoolers. One is a Jewish grandmother (Bubbe) who is constantly supportive and bakes a wonderful apple cake (recipe supplied at the end of the book). Another is a girl who becomes David’s new best friend when his former best friend deserts him. And a third is his own sense of humor, exemplified in TalkTime videos that David makes and posts on YouTube, complete with “Top 6½ Lists” that bring him more and more attention and eventually hand him a fairly large dose of celebrity – which, however, does not save him from middle-school humiliations. As David tries to juggle all the aspects of his life, sometimes with a modicum of success and sometimes without one, he maintains as a touchstone a hamster that his mother bought for him just a few days before she mysteriously disappeared and went incommunicado – without even a phone. Eventually, David learns a whole set of life lessons, including what happened to his mother and how it is possible to love and lose something and then recover. Through it all, Gephart maintains a mostly upbeat tone even when David is going through difficult times, as if to let readers know that everything will work out all right in the end. Everything does – not ideally, true, but in a positive enough way so readers will be reassured that, whatever their own problems may be, it is better to face and overcome them than to try to run away.

     Older readers who have actually survived middle school – specifically, teenage girls – get a different sort of message at the start of Runaway, the third and last novel in Meg Cabot’s Airhead series (following the series-title novel itself and Being Nikki). The trilogy combines science-fiction elements with voyeurism of the “inside the world of supermodels” type, as Emerson (Em) Watts’ mind is transplanted into top teen lingerie model Nikki Howard’s body through the machinations of an evil corporation called Stark, whose sole interest in the “full-body transplant” process is its profit margin. Initially reluctantly, then with growing enthusiasm, then with horror at her own complicity in whatever is going on, Em/Nikki becomes part of the original Nikki’s world, including all the money and parties and boys and fashion shoots and world travel and attention, attention, attention. But of course she is a good girl at heart (even if the heart in her body isn’t exactly hers, Em’s, anymore), and in Runaway she tries to escape her responsibilities (work and school) and all the people who put pressure on her (friends and family) – but discovers that running away solves nothing and is not really even possible. So, like her middle-school counterparts, Em/Nikki learns that she must face and conquer her fears and difficulties – and moves in a thoroughly unsurprising direction, determining to expose the evil that Stark Corporation has done and bring down its billionaire CEO, Robert Stark. The way this happens – with plenty of help from Em/Nikki’s boyfriend, Christopher, and his cousin, Felix – is most of what Runaway is about, although there is still time for some snide comments on what it is like to live the high life (“I like waking up to find only people I’ve invited over in my bedroom”). There is a climactic exposé scene – on New Year’s Eve, naturally – that ends with the bad guys arrested and with Robert Stark’s son, Brandon, announcing that he is taking over Stark Corporation and will make his father’s firm “a greener, more earth-friendly corporation” with a union and good health care for employees, mandatory sexual-harassment training seminars, and all sorts of other good stuff. This is a pack of arrant nonsense, but no sillier than the underlying premise of the trilogy – which, however, Cabot works through expertly once bypassing its implausibility. Runaway is a satisfying conclusion to the Airhead novels and is a good, easily forgettable read – the sort of book that, with its companions, is just right for a rainy day at the beach.

(++++) WHAT’S NEW IN BACH AND BEETHOVEN

Bach: Brandenburg Concertos Nos. 1-6. English Baroque Soloists conducted by John Eliot Gardiner. SDG. $34.99 (2 CDs).

Beethoven: Piano Trio in E-Flat, Hess 47; Piano Trio in D, Kinsky/Halm Anhang 3; Piano Trio in E-Flat, Op. 63. Beethoven Project Trio (George Lepauw, piano; Sang Mee Lee, violin; Wendy Warner, cello). Cedille. $16.99.

     There is always something new to be heard in the music of Bach and Beethoven – and every once in a while, there is a bit of genuinely new (or sort-of-new) music by one of them to hear. What John Eliot Gardiner does new with the Brandenburg Concertos is to step back from them: he actually conducts only Nos. 1 and 2. The rest are led, more or less, by English Baroque Soloists leader Kati Debretzeni – except for No. 6, since she is a violinist and that concerto contains no violins. In a sense, this two-CD set from SDG (“Soli Deo Gloria,” quite a name for a music label) is an experiment, and it is a wholly successful one. The performers treat Bach’s Brandenburgs first and foremost as dance music – and, to almost the same extent, as chamber music. Gardiner conducts the first two concertos because they are the most “orchestral” in fabric; the remaining four are performed without a conductor because, as chamber-music works, they do not require one. What they do need is impeccable phrasing, a sure sense of style, precision entrances of the instruments, and a superb sense of tonal balance – and they have all of those here. This is a simply wonderful Brandenburg set, abounding in joie de vivre and filled with instrumental touches inspired by the musicians’ creativity and understanding. In No. 1, for example, the horns are intrusive among the more “refined” instruments of their day – to the point of raucousness, especially in the first movement. This produces an unusually bright and bubbly performance of this most suite-like of the Brandenburgs. What stands out in No. 2 is the odd instrumental combination that Bach created – violin, recorder, oboe and trumpet – and the outstanding balance among the instruments, with the flawlessly played high trumpet fitting perfectly into the group and never overshadowing it. No. 3 is a tour de force for strings, with a finale that positively gallops without ever seeming rushed. In No. 4, the lilt of the two recorders has remarkable lightness and delicacy. No. 5 is handled with rare intelligence, not as the sort of harpsichord concerto that Haydn would write a few years later but as a chamber piece in which the harpsichord assumes the position of primus inter pares (“first among equals”) for a time. And No. 6 is a marvel, its dark hues never eclipsing the dancelike rhythms of the music and the fascinating interplay among viola, cello, viola da gamba and violone. There are many well-played Brandenburg sets available, but very few that show the music in a new light. This one does – it is an exceptional recording.

     The Beethoven Project Trio’s CD promises something even more exceptional: entirely new works by the composer. Or newly discovered ones, anyway. And that is indeed what this CD offers – more or less. It is the fact that the music is played by a piano trio that is really the new thing here; the music itself is familiar in other forms. Thus, the Piano Trio in E-Flat, Hess 47, which receives its world première recording here, is in fact Beethoven’s arrangement for piano trio of the first movement of his 1794 String Trio, Op. 3, the composer’s first work for violin, viola and cello. This is early, Mozartean Beethoven, with a fuller sound in the piano-trio version and some interesting use of syncopation that the performers handle well. The Piano Trio in D, Kinsky/Halm Anhang 3, is Mozartean, too – so much so that it has a Köchel number (Anhang 52a), because it was for a time believed to be a work by Mozart. This piece is in two movements and exists only in fragmented form – 33 bars are missing in the first movement – and the recording here is the world première of a version made by Robert McConnell. This is a work from 1799, and it partakes of the world of Haydn as well as that of Mozart, but contains little of what would come to be thought of as the Beethoven sound (although a second-movement modulation into the unexpected key of F minor is a hint of things to come). The final piece on this CD is a transcription for piano trio of the 1795 String Quintet, Op. 4, which in turn was based on an octet for winds dating to 1792. The Piano Trio in E-Flat, Op. 63 was published in 1806 and most likely (although not certainly) transcribed by Beethoven himself. This is a better-made and more substantial work than the others on this CD, with the piano taking the lead through much of the four-movement structure and often being called on for greater virtuosity than the string parts require. This is not particularly deep music, certainly not on the grand scale that one might expect from a piece in the same key as the “Eroica” Symphony. But the Andante is charming, and the work as a whole is bright and cheerful – and less like those of Mozart and Haydn than the other pieces here. The performances are supple and involved, and it is certainly wonderful to have some rare Beethoven chamber music available – even if, in the grand scheme of things, these works are not only lesser-known but also simply lesser Beethoven.

(++++) SERIES OF CLASSICS

Mahler: Lieder. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone; Daniel Barenboim, piano. Audite. $16.99.

Strauss: Don Juan; Eine Alpensinfonie; Der Rosenkavalier: Suite of Waltzes. RIAS-Symphonie-Orchester conducted by Karl Böhm. Audite. $16.99.

Stravinsky: Pulcinella (complete); Feu d’artifice; Strauss: Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks; Ravel: La Valse. SWR Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden und Freiburg conducted by Christopher Hogwood and Sylvain Camberling. Hänssler Classic. $18.99.

     Each of these CDs is not only fine on its own level but also part of a top-notch CD series – so listeners who enjoy them have many other ways to hear similar discs by the same artists or on the same themes. The 1971 recording of Mahler songs performed by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau – accompanied by 28-year-old Daniel Barenboim – is part of a four-disc “Birthday Edition” of the famed baritone’s previously unreleased radio recordings. The sound is good enough, even by 21^st-century standards, to highlight Fischer-Dieskau’s wonderful control and supremely confident handling of his vocal instrument. There are songs here from Mahler’s youth, which are firmly in the German art-song tradition, plus better-known ones from Rückert-Lieder and Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen. In all of them, Fischer-Dieskau shows the suppleness and attentiveness to detail that made his recitals and recordings so consistently delightful. Simply hearing the contrast between the tuneful, upbeat Ging heut Morgen über’s Feld (which was later to figure so prominently in the composer’s First Symphony) and the extended, doleful and emotionally gripping Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen is enough to confirm Fischer-Dieskau’s deserved reputation for musicality, sensitivity and fine communication with the audience. Barenboim supports him well, playing with elegance and care. Listeners familiar with these songs will miss the orchestral accompaniment with which they are usually heard, but because the primary focus here is Fischer-Dieskau’s voice, the quality of the singing more than makes up for the absence of an orchestra.

     The orchestra is front and center in the Richard Strauss CD conducted by Karl Böhm, one of the great 20^th-century conductors and one of the best exponents of this composer’s music. This release, Volume VIII in Audite’s “Edition Karl Böhm,” cannot be recommended wholeheartedly because of its sound – the recordings date to 1952 and 1954. But it still deserves a (+++) rating for the sheer quality of Böhm’s highly committed, beautifully proportioned readings. Don Juan here is not only exciting but also deeply moving – no mere orchestral showpiece, but a true tone poem about love and loss. Eine Alpensinfonie is also filled with effective tone painting – yes, it is overdone and somewhat episodic, more like an extended (or overextended) Strauss tone poem than a fully integrated symphonic work; but Böhm paces it, section by section, to tie the music together while also showcasing its contrasts of tempo and mood. And the waltzes from Der Rosenkavalier simply sparkle, as Böhm clearly strives for a big, lush sound (which is apparent even though the recording falls somewhat short of elegance), while offering just-right tempos and carefully delineated rhythms that showcase the special Strauss way with ¾ time. Sonic shortcomings aside, this is a very fine CD that highlights just how effective Strauss can be when conducted by a master of his music.

     Strauss is heard as well on a new (++++) CD entitled Les Ballet Russes, Vol. 6, part of an ongoing series devoted to Serge Diaghilev’s famous ballet troupe of the early 20^th century. But the primary focus of this CD is Stravinsky’s Pulcinella, in its complete version, with three solo voices (soprano Arleen Augér, tenor Robert Gambill and bass Gerolf Scheder). The vocal ditties are of no great moment in this music, serving to comment on the story in naïve terms while the ballet action plays out on stage. Christopher Hogwood conducts the ballet, instrumental and vocal parts alike, with fine nuance and a lovely sense of rhythmic flow. The rest of the pieces here are conducted, also with a good sense of style, by Sylvain Camberling. Feu d’artifice (“Fireworks”) for large orchestra functions, in effect, as an encore to the dalliances and delights of Pulcinella. The Strauss work, his familiar tone poem about Till Eulenspiegel, has balletic bounce in this context and truly sounds merry rather than snide, as it sometimes can. And Ravel’s La Valse, a commentary on and denunciation of the most grandly graceful and pervasive of 19^th-century dances, also flows well here – it is easy to visualize dancers moving to the music and then collapsing in a heap at the end as the work self-destructs. From a strictly musical standpoint, the combination of Stravinsky, Strauss and Ravel sounds a trifle odd, so different were their styles at the time these pieces were written. But that very oddity makes the Diaghilev connection all the more interesting and helps show just how influential the Ballet Russes was among composers of many types in Paris in the early part of the last century.

(++++) FAMILIES IN ALL SHAPES AND SIZES

We Were Here First: “Baby Blues” Looks at Couplehood with Kids. By Rick Kirkman & Jerry Scott. Andrews McMeel. $12.99.

It’s a Boy: A “Baby Blues” Book. By Rick Kirkman & Jerry Scott. Andrews McMeel. $9.99.

It’s a Girl: A “Baby Blues” Book. By Rick Kirkman & Jerry Scott. Andrews McMeel. $9.99.

Jeremy & Dad: A “Zits” Tribute-ish to Fathers and Sons. By Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman. Andrews McMeel. $16.99.

A “Zits” Guide to Living with Your Teenager. By Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman. Andrews McMeel. $9.99.

     There are all sorts of people. There are all sorts of families. There are all sorts of cartoons. Put them all together and you get all sorts of cartoon families collected in books having all sorts of appearances. And they are all sorts of wonderful.

     We Were Here First is the second “theme” (rather than chronological) book about the MacPherson family’s attempt to retain a semblance of sanity while parents Darryl and Wanda raise three utterly charming and completely in-your-face children. Make that in your face, your bedroom, your car, your mind and everywhere else. The whole book is about apparently straightforward life with kids, the emphasis being on “apparently.” Darryl and Wanda kiss and hug, leading Zoe and Hammie to react with complete disgust. Pregnant Wanda says she just can’t get comfortable, Darryl asks what he can do, and after a, shall we say, pregnant pause, Darryl says, “I meant, is there anything I could do to help short of having that particular surgical procedure?” Wanda gets a free leg wax by accidentally sitting on melted crayons. Wanda promises to “slip into something more comfortable” after the kids are asleep at a reasonable hour for once – but what she means is that she is slipping between the sheets of her own bed and falling asleep herself. To go on a date, Wanda and Darryl trade houses with neighbors and watch DVDs. Writer Jerry Scott and artist Rick Kirkman have the whole raising-young-children thing down cold, which is a good thing, since real-world parents can certainly use the sort of lift that the almost-real Darryl and Wanda provide.

     For those who have just become real-world parents, the Baby Blues team has a little something special. Two little somethings special, actually. The It’s a Boy and It’s a Girl gift books – small size and hardbound – will be absolutely delightful presents for people who do not have the faintest idea of what they are getting into. (Hee, hee, say experienced parents while giving these books.) Pregnancy, birth, siblings, new routines – all are here in full-color Baby Blues panels. The boy book focuses on middle child Hammie, the girl book on baby Wren, but the chapter titles are the same, and parents will instantly recognize many of the scenes whether they have boys, girls or both. There is the huge pile of healthy-pregnancy literature given to the expectant mom, who is then told not to carry anything heavy; the parents with the list of girls’ names who discover they are having a boy; the two kids laughing about the coming third as the parents realize they will soon be outnumbered; the kids betting on whether the new baby will spit up on mom’s neck or shoulder; and much more everyday life in inimitable Baby Blues style.

     Well, maybe not quite inimitable. Scott also writes Zits, the outstanding strip about life with a teenager, so there is an intimate connection between the MacPherson and Duncan families. Jim Borgman’s art, which frequently dips into surrealism, keeps Zits different in appearance from Baby Blues (although Kirkman has his surreal moments, too, as when pregnant Wanda sees herself as different huge animals). The new Zits “theme” book – in oversize “Treasury” format – focuses on 15-year-old Jeremy’s relationship with Walt, his middle-aged orthodontist father; and the book is an fine companion to the previously released Jeremy & Mom, where the focus was on Connie and her son. The strips in Jeremy & Dad are indeed, as the subtitle has it, “tribute-ish.” The cover shows dad and boy hanging out together, eating pizza – facing in opposite directions, with Walt watching TV while Jeremy sends text messages. That is a pretty good microcosm of how father and son relate throughout the strip – and in many families today. To get Jeremy to take out the trash, Walt has to “throw his weight around,” so Borgman shows the two guys as competing sumo wrestlers. In one strip, Walt says he is just sitting, enjoying the silence, so Jeremy asks, “No, seriously, what are you doing?” Elsewhere, Walt reacts calmly when Jeremy uses meat tenderizer to swat a fly, putting a hole in the wall, because “as a proud graduate of teenage knucklehead university, it’s my duty to support the current student body.” Scattered among the strips here – as in the Jeremy & Mom collection – are comments from readers and some especially interesting remarks from the Zits creators, such as this one from Borgman: “We’ve sometimes heard the complaint that Walt is yet another bumbler in a culture that disrespects dads. We’ve never seen him that way. Sure, Walt’s frame of reference is hopelessly stuck in the past when it comes to TV, technology, and jargon. But he’s an involved dad who spends time with his son, and we like to think he provides ballast for the Duncan family.”

     Ballast of some sort is certainly helpful in families that contain teens, as is made very clear in A “Zits” Guide to Living with Your Teenager. This is another small hardbound gift book that is filled with color versions of strips and is simply perfect for delivery with a snicker and a knowing nod to someone who will recognize the scenes – soon, if not immediately. The “usually means” strips fit this book especially well, as in Jeremy telling his father, “I need to simplify my life,” which usually means, “Things are about to get a lot more complicated for you.” Or “I didn’t realize this was yours,” which usually means, “I didn’t realize anything was not mine.” Scott and Borgman provide helpful suggestions for interpreting these strips. For example, “Accept anything resembling a compliment” goes with a strip in which Jeremy tells Walt – who is struggling to get a repair done under some furniture – “Your new underwear covers your butt crack better than your old ones.” And then there are strips that are pure exercises in visual enjoyment, such as the one in which Jeremy, on the way to school, is literally chained to an elephant representing everything he has to do. And the ones where the words are the thing: “God shouldn’t serve hormones to minors.” Zits and Baby Blues, together, are the most wryly amusing looks at family life to be found anywhere. Yes, anywhere – they transcend the newspaper comics page and the pages of these books to clamp right down on parental consciousness.

(++++) SLAM-BANG LEARNING

Micro Monsters: Extreme Encounters with Invisible Armies. Kingfisher. $14.99.

Savage Safari: Extreme Encounters with Animal Warriors. Kingfisher. $14.99.

How to Clean a Hippopotamus: A Look at Unusual Animal Partnerships. By Steve Jenkins & Robin Page. Houghton Mifflin. $16.

     The Extreme Encounters books are, on the face of it, bald and bold attempts to pull kids ages 7-11 – primarily boys obsessed with extreme sports and intense gaming – into a visual world between book covers and, almost incidentally, into educating themselves while school is out. Cynical? Maybe on one level, but on another, these books represent just the sort of creative and clever approach that publishers are going to have to try if they want to have a chance of competing successfully with summer blockbuster movies, year-round video games, online virtual worlds and all the other attractions and distractions that occupy young people today.

     Seen in that light, the books are highly successful (although it remains to be seen whether kids in the target age group will pick them up in the first place). Very heavily visual in focus, filled with flaps and foldouts and tuck-ins and charts, both books are structured as if the creatures in them have superpowers and specific strengths and weaknesses that readers (viewers?) need to analyze. Animals do have strengths and weaknesses, so most of this approach, although exaggerated and overstated, is fundamentally accurate, and that gives the books a strong educational component – even though education will likely be the last thing on the minds of kids who pick them up.

     Thus, Micro Monsters says that bees have the “superpower” of “coordinated group attack,” are “wired for sound” through auditory organs in their antennae, and possess “thermal-action wings, auxiliary eyes, and deadly stingers.” And there is a chart rating their intelligence, strength, speed, agility, endurance and evasion on a scale of 1 to 10 (bees score 2 on intelligence and 8 on evasion). The common tick is described as a “tenacious terror” that gets a 10 rating for endurance and has a superpower of “marathon feeding that lasts up to 24 hours.” The dust mite, which gets a 9 rating for evasion, is called a “skin eater,” and mites “ingest their feces up to three times to extract nutrients and water.” Add in superior photographs of all the tiny creatures – closeups of their bodies and parts of their bodies – and a layout that emphasizes bright colors, minimal text and boxes and tabs that come straight from computer design, and you have a good sense of what this book does and how. There is also a foldout of a man showing “life on you,” ranging from head lice to mouth bacteria to a skin fungus called Trichophyton. Scientifically, all the information here is accurate, and that is what makes the book worthwhile from an educational (or parental) point of view. Traditionalists may bemoan the book’s approach – this is not the way kids “should” learn science. But “should” is a dangerous word – and in fact, maybe this is the way they should absorb facts in a world filled with video inputs and with little patience for standard texts.

     Savage Safari takes the same approach as Micro Monsters and applies it to “animal warriors.” The Bateleur Eagle, for example, is labeled “airborne terror,” given a 6 for intelligence and a 10 for agility, and described as having “turbo engines” (its muscular wings) and “ironclad clamps” (its claws). Savage Safari does some extra things with design and display. A two-page spread on “African Realms” has a middle flap that shows the continent and, when moved from right to left, the regions within it – each of which is then color-coded to a description that includes ratings for natural resources and biodiversity. Some of the design elements are downright clever, like the two pages called “Africa’s Most Dangerous.” They label the Cape Buffalo “the Mob” because the whole herd sometimes attacks, and the Nile Crocodile “Leather Face.” But at the far right is “Public Enemy Number One,” discovered only when the reader opens a flap – and it turns out to be the mosquito, labeled “Doctor Death.” The approach of the Extreme Encounters books is certainly unconventional, but that may be just the jump start needed to convince some reluctant readers to pick them up and go through them.

     How to Clean a Hippopotamus also relies, to some extent, on clever layout and striking graphics, but it is a more traditionally written book about animals, and it features drawings of animal behaviors rather than photos. A number of animals here also appear in Savage Safari – including the Nile crocodile and the hippopotamus. But this book shows them in a different light – not as agents of terror but as elements in a vast and fascinating web of cooperation. The story of animals’ symbiotic relationships has often been told before, but the husband-and-wife team of Steve Jenkins and Robin Page makes the narrative especially attractive here. The authors tell about the oxpecker, also called tickbird, which lives by eating parasites found on giraffes, rhinos, deer and other animals – making the animals more comfortable and, when danger threatens, warning them with loud shrieks. The tiny, vulnerable boxer crab grabs two stinging anemones in its claws and brandishes them when a big fish threatens – later rewarding the anemones, quite unconsciously, by letting small scraps of food drop onto them while the crab itself eats. A bird called the honeyguide tracks bees to their hive but is not strong enough to break it open – so it locates a ratel, or honey badger, and leads the animal to the hive; the ratel breaks the hive open to feed, and the honeyguide gets bee larvae and honeycomb bits for its own meal. Jenkins and Page do not make the mistake of describing these animal associations as “agreements” or “partnerships,” which they are not – they are simply evolutionary methods by which otherwise unrelated animals can benefit from each other’s habits. This does not, however, make symbiosis any less fascinating, and How to Clean a Hippopotamus has enough intriguing examples – combined with enough reader-friendly presentation – to be a fascinating excursion for young readers with an interest in how animals live.

(+++) READING THROUGH CHARACTERS

Dodsworth in Paris. By Tim Egan. Sandpiper. $4.99.

Horse Diaries #4: Maestoso Petra. By Jane Kendall. Illustrated by Ruth Sanderson. Random House. $5.99.

Bella Sara 11: Amia and the Ice Gems. By Felicity Brown. Illustrated by Jennifer L. Meyer. HarperFestival. $4.99.

Gilbert, the Surfer Dude. By Diane deGroat. Harper. $3.99.

Superman Versus Bizarro. By Chris Strathearn. Harper. $3.99.

The Batman Reusable Sticker Book. By John Sazaklis. HarperFestival. $6.99.

The Berenstain Bears Go on Vacation. By Stan & Jan Berenstain with Mike Berenstain. Harper. $6.99.

     One good way to gets kids started in reading – or get them to continue – is by giving them books featuring characters they already know and enjoy from movies, TV, or books they have already read. Dodsworth, a gentle soul who travels the world with a misbehaving duck as a companion, has all the makings of a great series character. Having already visited New York, D&D (Dodsworth and duck) go to Paris in their new adventure – and, after encountering the bell ringer of Notre Dame, lose all their money when the duck makes their euros into paper airplanes and sends them flying off the Eiffel Tower. Their further misadventures involve an attempt to get a job, an unintended entry into a bicycle race, a painting that does not bring them any money, and finally a mistake by the duck that makes everything all right again and sends the duo off to their next adventure, which will be in London. Low-key comedy and pleasant characters make the Dodsworth books fun for young children.

     For older readers, ages 8-12, one subject of continuing interest is horses, and Jane Kendall’s Horse Diaries approach that subject in an unusual way – by telling the books in the animals’ voices. Maestoso Petra is a Lipizzaner stallion who, when World War II breaks out, finds everything turned upside-down in his native Austria, with his performance and his very life possibly in jeopardy. “When the noise [of falling bombs] got very loud and the floor wouldn’t stop shaking, I put my head between my legs and remembered meadows and apples and clear blue skies while I waited for it to stop. I wanted to run, but why even try? There was nowhere to run to.” The book details how Petra was trained, how he survived the war, and what happened to the humans and other horses he loved. This is strictly a book for horse lovers, filled as it is with the lore of one particular, special type of horse; and it is a period piece that, although well done, may not appeal to young readers looking for escapism rather than a somewhat dark-tinted tale of a terrible time in history.

     Young horse lovers seeking something lighter may instead gravitate to the Bella Sara series, intended for ages 7-11 and set in a world of wonder and magic. In the 11^th installment of this simply written adventure series, Shine Anders meets a new horse, Amia, for the first time. Amia is the daughter of Jewel, who is famous in these books. Amia and Shine take an immediate shine to each other (so to speak), and are soon involved in a quest for fabulous gems produced by an Auroborus storm (the “ice gems” of the title). Accompanying horse and girl is Shine’s talking doll and best friend, Gertrude, who often seems the cleverest character of all and who in fact brings about the book’s climax and successful conclusion when she outsmarts some evil treasure hunters who kidnap her but are unaware of her powers. The whole book is as light and frothy as ice crystals, and its effect lasts no longer than frost on a window pane. But it does have its moments, such as the description of “glowball-pooches,” which are dogs with split tails, “each fork tipped with a round, iridescent globe.”

     Younger children will enjoy reading still-simpler adventures, such as those in the “I Can Read” series. Gilbert, the Surfer Dude, featuring Diane deGroat’s popular possum character, is one such book, and is designed for the series’ Level 2 (ages 4-8 or “reading with help”). The simple day-at-the-beach story has Gilbert wearing a too-large bathing suit (with a “surfer dude” label) that comes off in the water, while his sister, Lola, refuses to go into the ocean at all – but everything works out all right.

     Things work out just fine in another book at the series’ same level, Superman Versus Bizarro. This, obviously, turns on the ever-popular DC Comics icon and involves one of the few genuinely amusing characters in the Superman ethos: his “backward clone,” who is equally powerful but in opposite ways, and whose thinking is more than a bit, well, bizarre. Although there is comic-book adventure and violence here, it is of a mild sort and will not be likely to scare young readers. Several touches of humor certainly help – and of course the book is intended for those who already enjoy Superman’s exploits.

     Another redoubtable DC Comics character, Batman, is at the center of The Batman Reusable Sticker Book, and although this book is not strictly focused on getting kids involved in reading, it does have explanatory passages that point toward the right way to use the peel-stick-and-remove stickers (over 100 are included). For example, one page says, “The Penguin and his pals are making a withdrawal from the bank. Use your stickers to create the scene and help Batman put an end to their transaction!” Intended for ages 3-7 – a range including pre-readers as well as young readers – the book can work simply as a sticker-based pastime or as an early exploration of the way words and pictures work together to tell a story involving familiar and popular characters.

     Families that prefer something less superhero-ish may want to consider The Berenstain Bears Go on Vacation, intended for ages 4-8 but just fine for even younger kids who enjoy these redoubtable characters. This is a typical Berenstain Bears story – they are all typical Berenstain Bears stories, which is one reason families that like these characters really like them – with completely ordinary family events throughout, somewhat enlivened by Pa’s bumbling (snarled fishing reel, too much hot sauce) and Ma’ s upstaging of him (she reels in a huge fish for dinner after he fails to catch anything). The tale is told in sing-song verse that does not scan very well but that younger kids will enjoy: “When they wake in the morning/ what greets their eyes?/ That glorious sight:/ a seashore sunrise.” Attentive parents will notice an error when the Bears go to a museum: a label refers to a “narwhale” tusk, but the correct word is “narwhal.” A short and pleasant book of unchallenging adventure featuring familiar characters, The Berenstain Bears Go on Vacation is a perfect example of one way in which kids can become regular readers when given both stories and characters to which they can easily relate.

(+++) MANY MAGICS

The Dreamer. By Pam Muňoz Ryan & Peter Sís. Scholastic. $17.99.

Shadow. By Jenny Moss. Scholastic. $17.99.

Unfamiliar Magic. By R.C. Alexander. Random House. $17.99.

     Magic is reliable – not in the real world, but in the worlds created in books for teenage and preteen readers. Authors continue to find new ways to explore the possibilities of magic, its meanings, and its relationship to everyday life in the world where their readers actually live. Pam Muňoz Ryan and Peter Sís present magic within a world with which most young readers will not be familiar. It is our world, more or less – the book is set in Chile – but it is our world with the sort of magical-realist twists that Jorge Luis Borges has made famous. The story centers on a young boy named Neftalí, who has always heard the call of a mysterious voice – making him an outsider not only among other children but also within his own family. What the voice is, what it wants and what Neftalí must do are the basic plot elements here, but the authors go far beyond the basics in the way they present the tale. There are simple but highly evocative illustrations scattered throughout the book and forming part of the narrative – illustrations so integral to the story that describing them undermines their effectiveness. For example, one shows a seascape with such words as “daydreamer,” “worthless” and “dim witted” written on the shore, and goes with two pages on which the only narrative words are, “Where will the waves take the debris abandoned in the freckled sand?” So this is a journey of self-discovery – a very ordinary and typical plot for a book for this age range – but it is handled with unusual sensitivity and beauty. Conventional elements abound, such as Neftalí’s problems with the school bully, Guillermo, who ends up wanting Neftalí to write a love letter on his, Guillermo’s, behalf to a girl – the same girl for whom Neftalí himself cares. There are also some distinctly adult concerns involving Neftalí’s uncle, a crusading newspaperman whose offices are burned by those he has been exposing; and here too there are lessons for the boy, when Uncle Orlando shows him that beneath the smoking ash of the ruins there are still glowing embers that can rekindle. For all its beauty, The Dreamer will be a touch too earnest and a bit too intensely sincere for some readers: it is a quietly meaningful book suitable only for those who will appreciate its unusual design and narrative structure.

     More conventional in its use of magic and story line, and therefore more accessible, Shadow is the story of an orphan girl who is virtually enslaved to a nasty young queen who, it has been prophesied, will die before she turns 16. Shadow ‘s role is to shadow the queen and make sure that does not happen – but as in any good fairy tale, mere mortals have no power over supernatural predictions. So Shadow finds herself, after the inevitable tragedy, in the care of Sir Kenway, a young knight who may or may not have been betrothed to the queen but who is now fleeing the castle as plots and counterplots come to fruition. Shadow herself is, of course, a mystery, knowing nothing of her parentage and not even knowing her real name. “None of it mattered. What did any of them matter to me? They had never treated me kindly. Why should I care?” But of course Shadow does care, and is irrevocably bound to the castle and its inhabitants for reasons she comes only gradually to understand. Standard characters from tales of magic abound here, such as Kenway’s wise-beyond-her-years little sister, who tells Shadow, “You have lovely eyes. …They are a little odd, but lovely. Like the sky right before nightfall. A deep blue, like that. …But not exactly like that. But they are beautiful, your best feature.” The book is filled with questions about what this or that occurrence means, where this or that person’s loyalty lies, and ultimately about what is going on in the land and where the young queen and Shadow fit into events. Eventually, and not at all surprisingly, Shadow learns who she really is and how she is crucial to the kingdom as “the union of nature and man.” Then she faces a series of further trials, at a higher political level than she has ever known, before eventually coming into her birthright – as readers will surely expect that she will. Shadow is a well-wrought novel and often an exciting one, but it is filled with conventional genre elements that rob it of surprise as the title character goes through her tribulations and emerges, as expected, triumphant. It is a book that readers who want more-grown-up versions of fairy tales will enjoy.

     A counterbalance to the earnestness and intensity of The Dreamer and Shadow comes in the form of Unfamiliar Magic, whose very title has a double meaning – referring not only to the spells with which young witch Desi is unacquainted, but also to the pet cat who is Desi’s mother’s familiar and in whose care Desi is left when her mom suddenly and mysteriously leaves. This is R.C. Alexander’s debut novel, a fact to which some of its predictability can be attributed. For example, it is obvious that Desi’s mom will not let her learn magic as Desi wishes; it is obvious that Desi will try things out on her own when her mother is not around; it is obvious that Desi will call up something she cannot (or almost cannot) handle; it is obvious that Cat will, however reluctantly, become her ally rather than her babysitter. And all these things do indeed happen. But Unfamiliar Magic has a freshness about the writing that helps overcome the stale elements of its plot. For example, one reason Desi gets into trouble is that the Book of Secrets that she tries to use to do magic mentions that there are four “paths to power,” while she knows of only two, so she wants to do some research, but “she knew the Web wouldn’t be any help. People like her mother were busily scouring any real info about magic off the Net as soon as it appeared.” Soon, Desi starts hearing calls from her missing mother – whom she cannot locate and whose reason for leaving she does not know. Cat dismisses them as dreams, but it is a foregone conclusion that Desi will turn out to be perceiving things accurately. It is also predictable that much of the mystery here will turn out to revolve around Desi’s father, whom Desi does not know: Desi’s mother says she left him because she was afraid of him. On the other hand, it is not predictable that a fire demon arguing for its freedom will tell Desi – who is understandably worried that the demon will burn the forest – “Wildfire is normal and natural. …Suppressing it wreaks havoc on the ecosystem.” In the long run, it is the offbeat elements and flashes of humor that rescue this book from conventionality and make its unsurprising elements – such as the unique importance that Desi turns out to have – of less consequence. It helps that Cat turns out to be quite a character, and that Alexander can write lines such as, “This isn’t the Dark Ages anymore. …Desi can learn her craft very well from me without dancing around fires, chanting nonsense, and sacrificing goats.” All these books about magical powers are, at one level, nonsense, but they do have entertainment value and, from time to time, some real-world, nonmagical lessons to teach about families, growing up, and finding out who you really are and what you can really do.

(++++) PERSONAL STATEMENTS

Bach: Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin. Sergey Khachatryan, violin. Naïve. $19.99 (2 CDs).

Walter Steffens: Guernica and Other Paintings. Labor. $16.99.

     Bach’s six Sonatas and Partitas for violin solo are among the composer’s most highly personal works – in addition to being among the greatest challenges for violinists, even some 300 years after Bach wrote these pieces in 1720. Bach, who was himself a fine violinist (even though he is better known as a keyboard player), thoroughly plumbed the depths of the violin’s capabilities and thus challenged every violinist of his time and thereafter to prove his or her technical ability plus musicality in performing two-and-a-half hours of complex music that frequently sounds contrapuntal even though the violin itself can produce only a single line of notes and some intermittent chords. Because of the way these works were written, every performance of them is as much a personal expression as was Bach’s original creation of the music. Sergey Khachatryan, playing a lovely violin dating to Bach’s time (a 1708 Stradivarius), is nevertheless far from fanatical about performing in the style in which Bach himself would have played this music. Khachatryan takes a more expansive view of these works, making them bigger and, yes, more Romantic in their expressiveness and intensity. His approach will not please musical purists or advocates of historical performance practices, but if accepted as Khachatryan’s own individual view of this music – overlaid on Bach’s personal approach to creating it – the performance will win listeners over and hold them throughout. It is easy, but not very useful, to carp at details of these performances: the swelling of sound, some variations in tempo, the strongly emotional cast of some movements, the overall intensity of the whole enterprise. But it is better to consider the lovely details that Khachatryan brings out almost constantly as he seeks to find these works’ emotional centers: here, he pushes a dance movement such as a Courante far too quickly for it to be danced, but showcases its verve and spirit; there, he makes a slow Sarabande warmer and more emotive than one expects in Bach, but in so doing pulls listeners’ emotions more clearly into his playing. These are not austere performances by any means: they are warm, committed, and frequently impulsive. They have the shine of youthfulness – Bach was 35 when he wrote the music and Khachatryan is only 25 this year – and some of youth’s excesses as well. It is unlikely that Khachatryan will play these works this way as he develops further as an artist and matures more as a human being; but that is one of the charms of this two-CD set. It offers committed and intense Bach rather than careful, contemplative, elevated Bach – not ideal Bach, to be sure, but interesting, even fascinating Bach from a young violinist who still has some interpretative growing to do but who here already shows that he can perform masterworks with a sure hand and give them a strong personal stamp.

     The personal elements are of a very different kind in a CD of music by Walter Steffens (born 1934). Called Guernica and Other Paintings, the CD presents a variety of performers in music that Steffens created to be tied to specific works by Pablo Picasso (Guernica), Edvard Munch (Siguiriya or The Cry), Hieronymus Bosch (Pintura del Mondo or The Garden of Earthly Delights), and Marc Chagall (Le Cantique des Cantiques or The Song of Songs). Steffens is primarily an opera composer, but in these shorter works he ranges through a variety of choral and instrumental forces: Guernica is for viola and orchestra, Siguiriya for mixed chorus, Pintura del Mondo for orchestra, and Le Cantique des Cantiques for organ. The works are uniformly well made, but all suffer from an underlying requirement that listeners be familiar with the paintings – indeed, with the details of the paintings – in order to make sense of the music. These are pieces that go beyond tone poems to become point-by-point musical interpretations of considerable specificity – which lends them fascination if you know the works to which they refer, but will otherwise lead mostly to puzzlement. There is beauty in the elegiac Guernica, but it is pervaded by sadness that listeners need to know is tied to the events that led Picasso to create his painting. Siguiriya is even more abstruse, using three poems by Federico García Lorca as a gloss on Munch. The atmospheric Pintura del Mondo is intended to tie directly into Bosch’s elaborate and famous (or notorious) triptych. And the organ symphony Le Cantique des Cantiques requires, for full appreciation, familiarity not only with the biblical Song of Songs but also with specific details of Chagall’s five oils drawn from the ancient text. As experiments, and intermittently simply as music, Steffens’ works are interesting and effective. But they ask quite a lot of listeners and, in the final analysis, do not add a great deal to the impressions given by the works of art themselves – there is more a feeling of transposing visual works to a new medium than of commenting on or expanding upon them. There is enough interesting material here to give the Steffens CD a (+++) rating, but this is very rarefied music that appears intended only for an audience focused on esoterica.