Hill, L.C. (2007). America dreaming: How youth changed America in the '60s. New York: Hatchett Book Group, 165 pp.
Nonfiction, no awards for the book but good reviews, and Hill is a National Book Award nominated author
America Dreaming gives a meticulously researched and engagingly written look into the culture (and counterculture) of the 1960s. From Kerouac to Kennedy to Martin Luther King; from the Beats to the Beatles to the Bay of Pigs to bra burning, all the important events and people come to life in this book, whose sections include "Our Bodies, Our politics" (feminism), "Upside Down Flag" (Native American Rights), "Earth Day" (environmentalism), and many more.
There are several great aspects of this book that make it perfect for young adults. First, it is visually stimulating, featuring many photos, cartoons and illustrations, graphs, charts, and colorful captions and headings. Even if the students don't read every word on the page, they can still gain a lot of useful information from looking at the visual depictions. Next, the information provided is well put-together and highly relevant. There are quotations from a number of primary sources--important political figures and artists as well as magazine and newspaper excerpts and reviews. Finally, the book's subtitle is "How Youth Changed America in the '60s," and Hill gives special emphasis to how youth propelled and were impacted by the events described. Many of the topics covered, such as diversity and minority rights, economic change, and urban violence, are still subjects of serious discussion today. My only criticism (and it's more a caveat than an actual critique) is that the body text does read a bit like a textbook, so it is not necessarily the kind of thing to send home for pleasure reading.
That said, I think it could work in all classrooms from middle school to high school, depending on the sophistication of the activities planned with it. I would recommend it to students interested in this time period or as needed to complement other material in the course. It is the perfect reference book to draw from for exciting research and media projects.
Any age -- some of the material is heavy, but it is presented historically in a scholarly manner, and so I think kids can digest it without too much trouble.
America Dreaming is super cool. I wish I owned it, but I borrowed it from Tara, and unfortunately I think she wants it back. As a junior in high school, I did a research project on alternative energy, which I considered pretty lame, even at the time. However, I would have LOVED to have been able to pick a topic from a book like this. It's amazing how much good information Hill packs into a small space, and the design of the book is inventive and really eye-catching. Chase Tara down and beg to borrow it, too. She might not be happy you did, but you will :)
Crutcher, Chris. (1993). Staying fat for Sarah Byrnes. New York: Greenwillow Books, 216 pp.
Fiction, ALA Best Book for YA, 1995 (among many others)
Staying Fat is the story of Eric Calhoune, a high school swimmer better known as "Moby," a moniker as descriptive of his size as his aquatic tendencies. Sarah Byrnes is Eric's best friend, a fierce and guarded girl horribly disfigured by severe burns over her hands and face. When Eric gets involved in athletics, Sarah worries that he'll sleek down and skip out, so Eric begins eats "like two pigs instead of just one" and demonstrates his loyalty by staying fat for Sarah. Eric's dedication to Sarah becomes the focal point of the story. After Sarah ends up in the psychiatric ward of the hospital, conscious but mute and unresponsive, Eric vows to find out the truth about Sarah's condition and help her out of it. Along the way, he has to negotiate a number of personal obstacles, including confrontations with swimmates, the dogged vice-principle Mr. Mautz (Lambeer changed his name and got an administrative job!), and Sarah's father, a new relationship, and his own beliefs.
Crutcher constantly has about six balls in the air throughout this entire story, but I was impressed with the way he made his juggling act really work. No topic is off-limits in Staying Fat, and I think it's an immensely important book because it gives voice to the tough issues that adolescents have to think about and deal with. There's no tucking them politely into corners or pushing them under the bed; Crutcher drags us right into the middle of a class in "Contemporary American Thought," where the students are asked to consider religion, abortion, suicide, the way in which values shape individual beliefs, and the importance of responding rationally to the coexistence of competeing perspectives. Outside the classroom, Sarah Byrnes provides a way to talk about abuse, familial relations, handicaps and disabilities, and respect of all types of diversity. This book shares a lot of thematic similarites with Deadline, especially as it addresses school hierarchy and religious conservatism and blurs the boundaries between right and wrong. Personally, I can appreciate the points Crutcher makes, but I occasionally feel that he comes across a little too much as writing with a liberal bias. The questions he raises definitely point students toward a higher level of thinking that asks them to probe and evaluate why they believe as they do, but as I read, I also felt that he, too, was urging me to believe in a certain way, which I think, generally speaking, is counterproductive to his aims.
Ah, classroom use. I wouldn't do it. If Dr. Goering's horror stories about martial action against teacher teaching it weren't enough to convince me of that, reading it myself certainly was. As I said earlier, it's not that it isn't an important or valuable thing for students to experience. On the contrary, it is. However, it is too controversial--not only for parents and administrators, but also for students in the classroom. There is no way to discuss this book without discussing the issues it addresses, and given the way these discussions tended in Mrs. Lemry's fictional class, I would not be comfortable refereeing that kind of an ideological or philosophical free-for-all among my students. I would maybe consider recommending it to an older student, but I don't think I would keep it in my classroom library. If one of my students were to read it, I would want to make sure that it was his or her own decision.
Definitely high school. Language, tough issues, disturbing situations. If you think about it too much, it can be a hard story to read.
I really liked Staying Fat a lot. In the first few chapters, I wasn't sure about it because (if anyone reads this, I'm going to come to class to find a burning effigy of me) sometimes I'm not that crazy about Crutcher's style. Nevertheless, I eventually found that I couldn't stop reading it, and that doesn't happen to me too often. The plot was really engaging, and I liked the way it almost took on the feel of a mystery about halfway through the book. There are also a slew of compelling characters. The reader feels for Eric and Sarah, of course, but I found myself really drawn to Mrs. Lemry, Eric's friend Ellerby, and the coarse and unlikely hero Dale Thornton, who starts out basically looking to kick Eric and Sarah's asses but ends up saving them in more ways than one. Just as in Deadline, there's an awful lot going on in terms of characters who have skeletons in their closets, but for some reason I found them to be incorporated more believably in this story. I give it a 4 out of 5. Good book.
George, Madeleine. (2008). Looks. New York: Viking, 240 pp.
Fiction, no awards yet, but George is an award-winning playwright, and with the favorable reviews this book is getting, I would not be surprised to see her add a book award to her resume.
Meghan is "the fat girl" who, paradoxically, is invisible to the entire student body, save the half-dozen basketball demigods who taunt her unmercilessly up and down the halls. Aimee is an anorexic-in-denial who justifies her subsistence on sugar-free jello by claiming an ever-growing number of food allergies. When Aimee ends up alongside Meghan in the nurse's office on the first day of school, Meghan senses that she and Aimee could be the remedy to each other's loneliness. Aimee, meanwhile, becomes friends with sweet, beautiful Cara Roy, model student and founder of the school poetry club. Aimee and Cara bond over their shared love of verse, but Meghan knows something about Cara that Aimee does not, and it is almost too late before Aimee realizes that the one person who can help her is right before her eyes.
There is hardly a topic that concerns 13-16 year-old girls that is not addressed in Looks. Self-esteem, body image, loneliness, false friends, betrayal, gossip, and family issues recur throughout the book, and George deals with these tough topics in an honest, even raw, way. The language and the dialogue is very authentic; the fact that Aimee consistently refers to Meghan as "fat" is not offensive only because the reader believes that she does not do it out of meanness but rather because this is the most readily available word in her vocabulary. Junior high and high school kids are not PC, and George tells it as it is--or as it is for them, at least. The story is also very well-written. It transitions nicely between the two girls' points of view, and the author does an equally good job getting inside both their heads. They are both fairly full characters, and despite their disprivileged positions in the school hierarchy, the reader is rarely tempted to pity them. The only criticism I have deals with the way in which George uses their respective eating disorders to characterize the girls. It was not clear to me exactly what her purpose was in this regard. I do see something valuable in depicting characters who suffer these particular afflictions and showing them as real people rather than over-simplified stereotypes. However, the reasons behind their behaviors are neither clarified nor resolved, and students who see themselves in these characters will be left unsatisfied with the degree to which their body image issues are plumbed.
I would suggest this for individual readers or small groups of female readers. I won't go so far as to say that guys can not relate at all, but the book would be far more successful among the fairer sex. Interestingly, it could also be taught alongside Speak, since the two share similar themes of friendship and betrayal and because Meghan, like Melinda, suffers from a paralyzing inability to speak. It would be very interesting to compare and contrast these two characters.
There are several instances of innapropriate or sexual language, but they're probably not too much for junior high. Meghan and Aimee are 14, and think a couple years either side of 14 is the perfect audience.
This is the book I picked up for my ALAN review, and if I'm being totally honest, I was really initially drawn to the shiny silver and pink jacket. I got lucky, though, because in the end Looks was much better than I hoped or expected. I really enjoyed this book and actually had a hard time putting it down. I was a little disappointed with the ending (for reasons that won't disclose in order not to ruin the plot), but I think the element of non-resolution in the conclusion points to the fact that George is ultimately more concerned with character than plot, and I can appreciate that.
Spiegelman, Art. (1973). Maus: A survivor's tale. New York: Pantheon, 161 pp.
Graphic novel, Memoir, Pulitzer Prize, 1992
Maus: A Survivor's Tale is the author's rendering of his family's Holocaust sufferings, as told through the eyes of his father, Vladek. The story is broken up into two volumes: I - "My Father Bleeds History" and II - "Here My Troubles Began." For the purpose of this project, I read Volume I, which begins with the circumstances surrounding the author's parents' meeting and ends as they enter Auschwitz, the last surviving members of their families. Along the way, they have lost their propserous factory, their wealth, their friends and loved ones--even their two-and-a-half year old son, Richieu. Interestingly, Vladek's narration is framed with the story of Spiegelman interviewing his father in preparation to write Maus, which reveals a humorous, sad, and overwhelmingly honest portrayal of a complicated father-son relationship.
I'm not really sure where to begin with this book, except to say that it is an extraordinary work. It is essentially nonfiction, but the plot reads as easily and engagingly as any tale invented by an author's imagination, and the scenes move seamlessly between Nazi Germany and Spiegelman's father's livingroom. The dynamic between the two men adds a great deal to the story, and I think the distanced relationsihp they have is something that older teens could easily relate to. There are obviously some sore spots in their past, and Spiegelman struggles to balance filial duty and the demands of his own life. One experience that often both unites and divides him and Vladek is his mother's suicide a little over a decade prior to the book's publication. Midway through the story, Vladek finds a comic Spiegelman had published about the event, and the readers get yet another frame of narration as that work is woven into the story. Throughout the book, the dialogue is relatively straightwork and unemotional; however, though all the characters are represented anthropomorphically (as the title suggests), it is incredible how much emotion Spiegelman is able to express through a simply-drawn mouse face. Finally, the book's biggest strength is probably Spiegelman's depiction of his father, which is tender but unsparingly authentic. Vladek's language is that of an eastern European immigrant, with its confused syntax and substitution of "what" for "that," and his attitudes are that of anybody's cranky, opinionated old grandfather. Keeping in mind what this man endured, it is almost hard to reconcile the character Spiegelman portrays with the man in his life story, but this complexity is part of what makes the story so rich. There is a lot to be said about this book, even though I am doing a poor job of saying it. The New York Times remarked when the book received a Pulitzer Prize special award in 1992 that "the Pulitzer board members found the artist's depiction of Nazi Germany hard to classify." Me too.
I definitely see this working as a whole class novel. It is so well done and is so easy to read that students could, and might even want to, read it in an evening. The Holocaust is an oft-visited topic in history and English classes, and this story tells the same tale in a way that students have yet to experience it. If I were to teach it, I would probably want to include bothe volumes in order to see how Vladek eventually makes it out of Auschwitz and to America. It could also work nicely when paried with any of a number of other Holocaust texts.
This is a high school book. The content is as tame as a story of mass genocide can be, but the structure would appeal to and be best understood by an older audience. The story gains something significant from the fact that the format of a cartoon seems initially incongruous with the tale being told, and it would be interesting to explore and discuss high schoolers' reactions to this. There is also a great deal to be mined concerning the symbolism of the animal characters, the effect of a mult-layered narrative, and the meta-fictional element involved in Spiegelman's representation of his own writing process.
I'm sure it's no surprise at this point that I was absolutely enchanted with Maus. I'm at a loss as to why this isn't already being incorporated into high school curriculums. Because it's a graphic novel? Oh, please. It's as serious and artful as any book on the topic, and I daresay, has an edge that teens might find more intriguing. AND it's got the awards to prove it. Treat yourself to it ASAP!
Angelou, Maya. I know why the caged bird sings. (1969). New York: Random House, 281 pp.
Autobiography, National Book Award NOMINEE, 1970 -- close, but no cigar, Maya!
This novel recounts Angelou's life from age eight to 16, turbulent years during which she and her brother, Bailey, were shuffled back and forth between parents in St. Louis and California and their grandmother in Stamps, Arkansas. It explores the impact of many significant figures in Angelou's life, including her stalwartly religious grandmother, her neighbor, Mrs. Flowers, who gave her books, and even the "powhitetrash" of Stamps, who served as a form of racial opposition she could push against to become better. It also speaks of Angelou's difficulty finding her niche as an awkwardly tall, un-pretty, educated, independent Black girl. She speaks directly about some of the more traumatic experiences of her youth, included being raped at eight by her mother's boyfriend and later being assaulted by a girlfriend of her father. The plot is fairly winding and therefore a bit difficult to summarize.
In employing this sort of plot structure, Angelou allows her to look in depth at scenes and situations that make statements about herself, her family members, racial pride and predjudice, the South, and the feeling of being Black in America during an era still ridden with the vestiges of slavery. Her point is not so much to tell her own story but to tell her story as a way of representing the wider experience of all Blacks during this time period--to show the horrors they endured but also their dignity and perseverence in enduring them. In this regard, she is extremely successful, and the reader comes away with a greater respect for Angleou's trials in light of the hostile environment she lived in, one defined by the practices of racial segregation and inequality. The characters are memorable, due in equal part to their inherent characteristics and to Angelou's deft description. This is an important book to read because it addresses adolescent experiences like self-doubt and feelings of displacement as well as gender and racial discrimination. It also goes well with aspects of American history, and in the South it is perhaps most important because it shows another dimension of typically-celebrated southern farming culture, with its genteel White aristocratic affluence.
I think this book could work well as a read aloud. It moves a little slowly at times, which might cause students to lose interest if read on their own, but it features a lot of rich, lyrical description and vernacular dialogue that would come alive if performed by a competent reader.
I would slate this novel as high-school level reading. The language is easy to handle, but students would need to be older in order to understand the courage of Angelou's writing as a work of ethic literature, especially for the time in which it was published. I also think the incidences of sex and abuse point to the need for a more mature audience.
I liked this book. I had heard a lot about it, and I can't say that it's exactly what I expected, but it is a finely-written work that expresses a perspective that needs to be heard. I wouldn't pick it up for pleasure reading on a rainy afternoon, but I think I would enjoy teaching it in the classroom. There are other pieces of literature that address similar themes, such as Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun" and Morrison's Sula (though I don't know if that book is taught in HS), but I think the personal nature of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings makes it perhaps a better choice than these when used for the same purpose.
Lowry, L. (1993). The giver. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 180pp.
Science fiction, Newbery, 1994
When the story opens, Jonas is nervously awaiting the Ceremony of Twelve, when he will be assigned to his job within the community. But while his friends receive titles like, "Nurturer" and "Recreation Director," Jonas is instead selected to be the new Receiver of Memories. The rest of the book follows his training with the Giver, a kind but sad old man burdened with the recollections of all civilization. As the Giver begins the task of transmitting these memories to Jonas, the boy comes to a full understanding of what it means to live in a world of Sameness and Climate Control, a world devoid of danger but also of feeling. In the end, he and the Giver launch a bold plan to help society recover generations of memory, and Jonas risks making the ultimate sacrifice to show his community what it has lost.
The Giver is written in a straightforward manner with a conventional, third-person omniscient narrator, relatively short chapters, and manageable vocabulary. But for any easy read, it packs a heavy thematic punch. In her artful way, Lowry continually reveals just the right amount of information to keep the reader engaged but guessing. Along the way, she invites readers to ask with Jonas some very difficult but important--and certainly relevant--questions: What is justice? What is the greater good? Who decides? Is it possible to go too far in the name of progress? Equality? Safety? These are valuable questions to discuss with students as they approach the age where they, too, will become contributing members of society. This book also provides a good opportunity to help students develop their thoughts on government, rights and responsibilities, and the role of the individual in the community--issues that will likely just be coming onto their radar in middle school and junior high.
I think this book could work as a whole class novel because it is bound to have a wide appeal and be accessible to most students. It also shares similar themes with other politically-oriented science fiction novels popularly taught in high school, such as Fahrenheit 451 and Animal Farm, so it might be useful to introduce students to a genre and issues they are likely to revisit.
The combination of recognizable vocabulary and thought-provoking issues is perfect for middle schoolers because the writing is well within their comprehension but the themes will push them to extend their critical thinking.
It was really easy for me to see why this book is considered such a classic in adolescent lit. I am not typically a fan of science fiction, but the elements of the genre were incorporated in such a subtle way that I never focused on the un-reality of them. The characters of Jonas and the Giver were compassionately presented, and I couldn't help feeling sympathetic to their plight. I also thought that the imagery was very vividly drawn, especially when describing the memories that Jonas receives. I would be a big supporter of using this book in basically any classroom. The themes it addresses are timeless, and they would lend themselves well to discussion with any age group.
Konigsburg, E.L. (1967). From the mixed-up files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankenweiler. New York: Atheneum. 162pp.Fiction, Newberry, 1967
The story focuses on Claudia, a 12-year-old sixth grader fed up with her parents' lack of appreciation for her. As the oldest child of four, she is expected to escort her younger brothers to and from the bus stop and attend to the loathsome job of emptying the household trash cans--and people don't even try to keep them neat! Determined to give her family a taste of life without her, she plots an escape. She and her fiscally savvy nine-year-old brother, Jamie, run away to New York City and take up residence at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. While there, Claudia takes special interest in the museum's newest acquisition, an angel sculpture rumored to be the work of Michelangelo. We hide out with the youngsters as they attempt to live on pennies, evade capture, and get to the bottom of a five-century-old mystery--all without strangling each other in the process!
The major strength of The Mixed-Up Files is that Konigsburg manages to weave themes about growing-up, self-worth, and family relatively unobtrusively into a highly-entertaining mystery. The two central characters are interesting and compelling. What makes Claudia effective is that she is enticed by the mystery of the sculpture's origin because she doesn't feel special in her own skin and is looking for something to make her "different"; however, she shown throughout the book to be a precocious child--bright, curious, high-achieving--in other words, precisely the kind of child most people would already consider "different." Claudia is a heroine for those who don't seem to need a heroine, and I think Konigsburg does a good job of showing the universality of certain adolescent experiences. Most kids feel overlooked or invisible at some point, not just the underprivileged or under-achieving, the down-and-out.
Another point of interest regarding this book is the structure. Mrs. Basil E. Frankenweiler recounts the story for the reader in the form of a letter she is writing to her lawyer, Saxonburg. Mrs. B.E.F. turns out to be a pretty pert old lady, and so we have the benefit of some sharp but humorous editorial comments throughout. The nature of these narrative intrusions reminded me at times of the Lemony Snickett, so that might be a selling-point for students who have enjoyed that series.
As much praise as I've given this book, I really would only recommend it to individual readers. It would be good for students with younger siblings or for history buffs, since Claudia and Jaime launch into a mini-research project on the Italian Renaissance. However, I don't think the issues are weighty or complex enough to support extensive small group or class discussion, and I don't think that enough students would relate to Claudia and her adult-like attitudes to make their interaction with her story worthwhile.
The age range is solidly middle school. I can only see it in junior high if recommended to a student with low-level reading skills to get him or her through a book quickly and easily and on to new things.
Though the main thrust of the story centered around Claudia's experience, Jaime was my favorite character. He was a very funny and sophisticated little man, carrying around 25 dollars in change that he won by cheating in card games with his friends. I also appreciated the academic tidbits Konigsburg tossed in now and then, such as the background historical information and the grammar lessons Claudia repeatedly gives Jaime. My major reaction was that the story was fun, fast-paced and easy to read but that a lot of it was very surface-level. I wouldn't say that it has no place in the classroom, but I think it would serve students better as the kind of on-your-own fare that they can simply enjoy and not have to think about.
