"The Secret Garden" by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret Garden is a fondly-remembered childhood favorite of mine. At my seventh birthday party, I was given two copies as gifts! I know we returned one of the duplicates, although I don't recall what we exchanged it for, but I would have done well to keep both books, tucking one away for the future; the one I kept is now falling to pieces. But my bookworm child has read that tattered copy. I love it when she not only reads my old favorites, but especially when she reads the very same book I read when I was little.

What's not to love about the story of a young girl, raised in India and recently orphaned, who is shuttled off to her distant uncle's mysterious house at the edge of the English moors? Throw in a sad account about the untimely death of her beautiful aunt, some strange noises blamed on the wind, and a friendly, bright-eyed robin, and my seven-year-old attention was captured.

Sadly, this is another one of those stories that may not hold the same fascination for a reader first coming to it as an adult. If you missed out on reading this when you were young, leaving you unable to nostalgically unearth childhood memories during a re-read, maybe you need to put yourself into the mind of a child as you read it? Otherwise you may find it boring, as Renae (from book club) did. (Oh, yes, I just named you, girl.) But as for me, there are a few passages that can even now elicit a thrill when I read them: one of those would be, of course, when Mary first discovers the forgotten garden.

I'm not sure how many times I've read this book, but it's odd (even for a literary amnesiac) that I didn't remember all the prattle about Magic. How could I so vividly remember the first half of the book while what I recalled of the second half was so vague and shadowy? Maybe because the first half is delectable and the second half is kind of crap. Not that I have a problem with magic. Where would Harry Potter or the Pevensies be without it? Maybe it's just Magic-with-a-capital-M that gives me trouble.

Despite a bit of crap, I love to watch Mary's transformation throughout this story. As the book opens, she is a sour, lonely, and quite contrary little girl; bit by bit, she becomes a kind and thoughtful friend, while still retaining her spunky pride and stubbornness. It's no fun--and not especially believable--when a character begins with nothing but rough edges and ends as a perfect angel, but you won't find that annoying mistake here. Mary's polishing leaves her improved but still undeniably human.

I call this another book to give to all the little girls in your life, so they can love it now and in the years to come!

"Coraline" by Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is sick and twisted and I love it.

I've wanted to read this book ever since I watched the flippin' WEIRD Tim Burton-esque movie with my kids. I finally ordered a copy of the book last week. Bookworm Child read it as soon as it arrived, and since it passed her test (and wasn't about rainbows and unicorns) I thought it might be pretty good.

Coraline Jones is the only child of less-than-doting parents. Her mom and dad love her, but they're always so busy that they mostly just ignore her. In fact, no one around Coraline pays her much attention. Her neighbors can't even get her name right, no matter how many times she corrects them.

Left to her own devices, Coraline spends most of the damp and dreary summer exploring in and around the old house they've moved into. Her neighbors are a bit strange, but they're nothing compared to what Coraline finds at the end of a cold and musty hallway: her Other Mother, who wants Coraline to stay with her forever, if only she can sew big shiny black buttons in place of Coraline's eyes.

Just like the other Gaiman book I read, this one is brimful of bizarre atmosphere. I mean, it didn't creep me out or give my seven-year-old nightmares, but some weird stuff goes on, and it's great. The story is very short and simply told--Gaiman could have gone into much more detail and not lost my approval--but the way it's written is perfect for kids. Some kids, anyway. You may want to check it out first, depending on your own child's sensitivity to weirdness.

It's funny--I got the exact same thing from my husband and my son: "Why are you reading that book? We have the movie." Well, you know how it is. Sometimes you're just curious about the source. Or sometimes you'd just prefer to read. Bookworm Child resolutely decided that the book was better than the movie. Either way, it's a fun and unique story. But, having experienced both renderings, I can affirm they've done an excellent job with the movie. They retained the perfect mood, didn't leave out any good bits, and really added to the story with the stunning visuals.

One of these days I'll get around to reading one of Gaiman's books for grown-ups. Which one should I start with?

"What-the-Dickens: The Story of a Rogue Tooth Fairy" by Gregory Maguire

My experience with Gregory Maguire has been somewhat hit-or-miss, but as it's been more hit than miss, I was happy to give What-the-Dickens a try when Lydia told me the Kindle version was selling for cheap.

I must say this story couldn't have been more different from the other tooth fairy book I read. It's also quite a departure for Maguire (judging by the three of his that I'm familiar with, anyway). It's a fairy tale without any Grimm elements and, really, a very mild story throughout.

It begins with shades of The Island at the End of the World. A small family group is isolated by an apocalyptic storm, and its effects are slowly revealed throughout the book. But the resemblance doesn't go any further than that.

The tooth fairy bit is worked in as a tale told by Gage, the adult in charge, to keep the minds of the children off of the frightening storm. The story he tells is imaginative, and it leaves the reader with a nice little "could it be true?" feeling. But if you know Maguire and you're looking for the weird, the wild, or the nasty, you won't find it here.

For what it is, it's a sweet little story. I bet Bookworm Child would love it.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" by C. S. Lewis

Cover art on the hardback edition.
Yes, I have two full sets. Is that a problem?

The Chronicles of Narnia have been beloved favorites of mine for so many years. I was first introduced to the series when I received a set for my ninth birthday. (Ah, and this time the books were a gift from my parents, so there are no bad memories of the giver attached.) Since then I have read each of the seven books more times than I can count, and it wasn't long before every re-read became as familiar, delightful and comforting as snuggling under a warm blanket on a rainy day.

There is something so magical about Narnia. Even more than enchantments and talking animals and dragons and adventures, I think what appeals to me most is the idea that a whole new world could be lurking in my closet. (I never had a wardrobe, and oh, I wish I had. It wouldn't even hurt my feelings much if it happened to be full of furs.) But just imagine what it must have been like for the four Pevensie children to discover a doorway into Narnia. I would have given anything to be Lucy! Or Jill. Or Aravis. Or Polly. Heck, I would have even done a stint as Eustace if it had resulted in a voyage on the Dawn Treader.

Now that you know how fond I am of Narnia, I'm sure you can picture my elation when Bookworm Child requested this series for bedtime reading. I would put these books on Bedtime Story Endless Loop if my kids could stand it. I had read the series to them before, but they were much smaller then, and I don't think they really remember it.

My original book. It's been well-loved.

Unfortunately, my elation soon turned to disappointment when Bookworm Child declared the story boring and decided not to listen. Boring! I don't understand. How could she? (I'm beginning to suspect she's a changeling.) The other two did hang around to listen, but I think this was mainly just because the youngest likes to cuddle and the oldest likes any excuse to stay up later.

All I can say about this is: what is wrong with my kids?? (I wonder what they do teach them at these schools.) You shouldn't be surprised, though, to hear I just kept right on reading. I think I was mainly reading for me. If all three kids had wandered off I probably would have continued reading it aloud to myself.

I walk a fine line in introducing all of these marvelous childhood stories to my children (not just the Narnia books, but others as well). On one hand, I want to make sure my kids have a chance to read (or at least hear) all of my old favorites. On the other hand, I wonder if I should allow them to discover these wonderful books on their own. What if Stacia hadn't known anything about Narnia until her ninth birthday, and then had read the stories to herself? If her experience had been more like mine, would she have loved the series like I do? As it is, I'm afraid she never will truly care for Narnia.

(*sheds a tear*)

I don't know if I can convince my kids that we need to read the rest of the series at bedtime. I'm not above bribing them. But I should probably draw the line at breaking out the duct tape.

"Daddy-Long-Legs" by Jean Webster

Daddy-Long-Legs, first published in 1912, is the pleasant little story of an orphan named Jerusha Abbott. At the age of seventeen, Jerusha (who later renames herself Judy, since that's the sort of name which belongs to a girl "who romps her way through life without any cares," which she would very much like to pretend she is) is given a rare bit of good fortune when she is informed that a mysterious benefactor has offered to pay her way through college.

The only requirement is that she must write regular letters to the man (to whom she gives the nickname Daddy-Long-Legs), though she is not to know his real name, and he never writes back to her. After a short chapter at the beginning which introduces the situation, the entire book is in the form of Judy's letters to the enigmatic Daddy-Long-Legs (with some crazy drawings thrown in).

Judy has a very engaging personality that shines brilliantly through her correspondence. In fact, her disposition is so bright and charming that she seems less like a college girl and more like a twelve-year-old. She's certainly not an always-optimistic Polyanna, but she really seems quite childish, albeit in a funny and endearing way. Here's a great example:

"Speaking of classics, have you ever read Hamlet? If you haven't, do it right off. It's perfectly corking. I've been hearing about Shakespeare all my life, but I had no idea he really wrote so well; I always suspected him of going largely on his reputation."

Webster should have had Judy going away to boarding school instead of college. Even so, and despite being overly sentimental at times, this is such a nice little story.

The ending was so perfectly, exactly what I wanted that I nearly cried. (Let's be clear, though: notice I said nearly. Which doesn't really count.) It didn't even bother me that I guessed what there was to be guessed long before it was revealed. I was just so happy that that the ending was just right.

There's a sequel! It's called Dear Enemy. And guess what? Amazon has a free kindle version of it. I know better than to think I'll be diving into it right away, but it's nice to have it waiting for me until I'm ready.

"The Neverending Story" by Michael Ende

I finally finished reading The Neverending Story to the kids last week. This book is not meant to be read a few pages at a time. When read in such small chunks it does seem endless, and not in a good way.

Although it took us far too long to read, the book has an interesting ingredient which is probably the fond dream of many readers: a boy who is reading a book becomes a part of the story. Bastian Balthazar Bux has hidden himself away from the world with a stolen book whose title is none other than The Neverending Story. As he reads about the hero Atreyu riding the white luckdragon Falkor in a desperate attempt to save Fantastica from The Nothing that is devouring the country, Bastian comes across oblique references to himself that slowly become more direct and more frequent until he suddenly finds he has left our own world and is a part of the story in Fantastica.

I like this description of the story as "Arabian Nights meets Aesop's Fables meets Grimm's Fairy Tales." The Neverending Story has the same feeling of fantasy and wonder threaded through with morality tales that you'd imagine from such a mix. Also, though it is not a series of stories like those three collections, it does seem to lack cohesion, especially in the second half of the book as Bastian rebuilds Fantastica on wishes and whims.

Most people who love this book refer to the nostalgia it evokes, since they read it as a child. I, too, read it when I was a child. My copy was given to me for my 12th birthday. (Of course I never would have remembered that, but I have proof.) Unfortunately, it was given to me by someone I'd rather forget, so I don't have quite the same feeling of sweet reminiscence as you may have when you reread The Neverending Story.

See? Proof.

Notice how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wrote that "this story is not just for reading it through, but also for thinking about." I was kind of insulted by that, even at age twelve. Just because I didn't want to tell him my thoughts on books didn't mean I wasn't thinking about the books I read. Of course, I suppose I can understand how he came to that conclusion.

Even worse, Blur called me a rat. Apparently, to Germans, the term "reading rat" is as innocuous as "bookworm" is to us Americans (and really, cultural context aside, I'd say it's a toss-up as to whether I'd rather be called a worm or a rat). I bet if anyone else had dubbed me The Reading Rat I would have worn the badge with pride in the knowledge that it fit me well. Though I might have preferred a nickname like The Reading Mouse, even if that doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

I can't help but wonder how much more I might have liked The Neverending Story if it had been given to me by someone I cared for and remember with affection. It's similar to disliking a name because it reminds you of an awful person: not the name's fault, but undeniable all the same. Do you have any books where your own personal experience, unrelated to the story itself, left you with a less-than-good feeling about it?

"The Willows in Winter" by William Horwood

Did you know there was a sequel to The Wind in the Willows? As a matter of fact, there are four (that I know of), although I only learned this recently. The sequels somehow escaped my notice until my bookworm discovered The Willows in Winter at our local library.

For what seemed like an interminable number of nights this was one of our bedtime stories (along with the aptly named The Neverending Story, which we should finally be finishing within the week--I hope!) and I must say I'm really glad it's over. This is in large part because the kids have put in a request for a reread of the Narnia books next . . . and the Harry Potter series after that. Never mind that by the time we finish those fourteen books my grade-schoolers may have already left for college.

So, yes, I'm glad the weeks and weeks of The Willows in Winter have ended, but that's not to say we didn't enjoy reading it. The sequels were not written by Kenneth Grahame, but this story fits in very nicely with the original classic. All the old familiar friends were there: Badger, with his gruff exterior that hides a soft heart; Rat, who is somehow both businesslike and fun-loving; kindhearted and agreeable Mole; and Toad, who gets up to utterly Toad-like shenanigans, though he'd promised he was through with all that. Even the tradition of Using Big Words was upheld.

I bet this is the picture that inspired the sequel

It was interesting to read, in the Author's Note at the end of the book, what inspired William Horwood to attempt a sequel of The Wind in the Willows. He became the proud owner of some of Ernest H. Shepard's original illustrations for that book, one of which portrayed Mole trudging through a snowy wood in search of Badger's house. What happened next is best explained in the author's own words.

"The Mole alone in the Wild Wood in a book was one thing; on my study wall he was rather different. As the months went by Shepard's drawing became part of my own imaginative landscape and Mole's original errand to find Badger faded as the great trees of the Wild Wood loomed larger before me, and the blizzard winds of winter surged and blew . . . it seemed to me that Mole was off on a journey rather different from his original one . . . the story of The Willows in Winter had begun."

How do you feel about sequels of a beloved favorite--especially if the story is continued by a new author? I'll confess that in most cases I would be quite wary of such an animal. I have the feeling that, if the original author is not the source, any further stories just don't count because they're not quite real. Kind of like fanfiction. But I can make an exception for Horwood, who seems to have followed suit respectfully enough that Grahame should still be resting peacefully.

Reading in Retrospect: "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" by Kate Douglas Wiggin, or Why the Anne of Green Gables Series is Better

My middle child, the bookworm, was given a copy of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm for Christmas. I read it for the first time only a few years ago. It seems like I’d heard of this book all my life, and I thought surely I’d read it as a child. But absolutely none of it seemed familiar, so I guess I’d missed this one.

The novel encompasses five years in the life of Rebecca Rowena Randall. One of seven children whose father died around the time of her youngest sibling’s birth, at the age of twelve Rebecca is sent to live with rich spinster aunts for schooling and raising. One aunt is spineless and the other is very hard to live with, but Rebecca’s engaging personality and active imagination see her through.

This book was first published in 1903. Anne of Green Gables was first published in 1908. There are many similarities between the two books, but Lucy Maud Montgomery did a better job with Anne. It’s as if Montgomery read Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, said, “I can improve upon this!” and did.

First, Montgomery did away with all of the unnecessary background (Rebecca might as well have been an orphan; Anne was an orphan). More importantly, Anne was a more believable and likeable character. Both Anne and Rebecca were wonderfully imaginative, but Anne was also head of her class at school (smart girls rule!), and the scrapes she got herself into were both more serious and more entertaining than Rebecca’s.

Rebecca’s story doesn't extend beyond the one book, but Montgomery wisely gave us more detail in several volumes for Anne’s story. And overall, somehow Wiggin’s book was sappy, sentimental and adolescent, whereas Montgomery’s books managed to get deep into my heart rather than simply skimming the surface. Comparing Rebecca to Anne all the way through kind of ruined it for me, but I couldn't avoid it. Not that I didn’t enjoy this book, but I knew it could have been better than it was.

One final complaint about Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (which is kind of a spoiler, by the way). Ever since the moment his character was introduced, I wanted Rebecca to marry Mr. Adam Ladd (Mr. Aladdin) at the end. At the rate she was growing up through the chapters I thought for sure we would reach that point, but we didn’t. With no marriage in this book, I had hoped it might take place in a sequel, but that doesn’t seem to be the case either. (Wiggins did write the New Chronicles of Rebecca, which I haven't read, but from what I've gathered it doesn't pick up where RoSF left off; instead, it tells more stories that occurred within the same time frame.) The fact that Mr. Aladdin was twice Rebecca's age might have made a wedding somewhat squicky, but a hundred years ago such a thing wouldn't have even been considered Lolita territory (once Rebecca was an older teenager, anyway).

Oh, and it also annoyed me that most of the story didn’t even take place at Sunnybrook Farm.

Am I the only American girl who didn't read this book when I was little? Maybe I would have appreciated it more if I had.

Reading in Retrospect: "Dragon Rider" by Cornelia Funke

My sister first introduced me to Cornelia Funke's books a number of years ago. Meine Schwester wohnt in Deutschland, and Funke is like a German J.K. Rowling, if perhaps the junior version. I think Sis first told me about The Thief Lord, which I devoured with relish before quickly working my way through several of Funke's other books.

It's been several years since I read Dragon Rider, but luckily I marked down a few notes about it at the time. The story took me a little while to get into, although I’m not sure why, because it turned out to be a very enjoyable book. Perhaps not quite as good as Inkheart (which is by far my favorite Funke book), but every bit as good as The Thief Lord--and maybe just a little bit better because, rather than beginning realistically but suddenly and strangely becoming an obvious fantasy halfway through, Dragon Rider was fantastic in its entirety.

This is the story of Firedrake, a silver dragon, and his furry Brownie companion named Sorrel. Firedrake and Sorrel have embarked on a journey to find the Rim of Heaven, a protected valley of legend where any number of dragons could live undisturbed. Their reason for this quest, and for leaving their happy and comfortable home among other dragons (in Scotland?), is that humans are encroaching on their caves, and discovery--with the inevitable destruction that would follow--is imminent. Once Firedrake has found the Rim of Heaven, he plans to return for the other dragons and lead them to it.

Not far into their journey, Firedrake and Sorrel acquire a small orphaned human named Ben when they stop to purchase a map from Gilbert Graytail, the white rat. Unfortunately (cue menacing music), the trio attracts the attention of a wicked golden pseudo-dragon named Nettlebrand, a creature created by an alchemist for the purpose of destroying dragons.

Not surprisingly, my two older kids have taken to Funke's stories just as much as I have. My son read Dragon Rider for a school project last spring once his interest was spurred by the movie How to Train Your Dragon. Not long afterwards, my daughter also read it when she was on her Cornelia Funke kick.

Dragon Rider is a good fun kids’ book. Have you read anything by Cornelia Funke? Which is your favorite?

Reading in Retrospect: "The Tale of Despereaux" by Kate DiCamillo

I first picked this book up at the library because of the subtitle I saw on the spine: "Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup and a Spool of Thread." Sounds like a delightful combination, doesn't it?

This is a cute little story and a very sweet book, not to mention a fast read (as I suppose most children's stories are). Despereaux Tilling is an unlikely hero: an unusually small mouse with unusually large ears who finds he loves music (“it smells like honey”) and breaks the rules of the Mouse Council because of it. He’s certainly not like the other mice who also live in the castle. Despereaux would rather read books than eat the glue from their bindings, and he not only speaks to humans, he even falls in love with one--namely, the Princess Pea.

The castle of the Princess Pea sits atop a dark, foul, dank dungeon that is full of rats. One of these rats, Roscuro, concocts a fiendish scheme to imprison Pea in the dungeon with the help of a half-wit serving girl, Miggery Sow, who longs to become a princess. Despereaux, banished to the dungeon by the Mouse Council for speaking to humans, is helped to escape by the kindly old jailer Gregory. Despereaux then sets about to foil the plot of the rat.

Kate DiCamillo has also written several other children's books, including The Magician's Elephant and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, which I expect I will get around to reading someday. To the kids, of course. That's my excuse, anyway.

"The Wind in the Willows" by Kenneth Grahame

I just finished reading this book to the kids last week. It was one of our nightly bedtime stories (Hudson's choice) and it took us almost as long to read as it's taking me to get through Anna Karenina. (Are you tired of hearing me whine about that? Never fear. I am now in Book Seven!)

But back to Grahame's classic story. We read about ten pages each night. For some reason the girls weren't too interested in hearing this one, but either it kept Hudson's interest or he's polite enough that he managed to listen quietly anyway. Judging by the way he likes to sing about bodily functions, manners are not his strong suit and I'm guessing the book must have grabbed his attention.

That's not surprising, of course. It's such a sweet little story, and who can resist talking animals in a quaint and old-fashioned setting? (I specify quaint and old-fashioned because of my dislike for live-action films featuring talking animals, with the exception of Babe.) But you would think that quaint, old-fashioned talking animals would capture the interest of my little girls too. Oh well.


When Hudson first handed the book to me and I opened it, it was fun to find that it came from my old high school. It must have been given to me decades ago by my former neighbor Mr. Black. He moved away while I was still very young, so I'm not sure what job he had with the local board of education, but he used to give us things the school was getting rid of. He also owned a yellow Tin Lizzie and gave us a ride around the neighborhood once, but I suppose that's neither here nor there.


At first I wondered at this book being taught at the high school level--wouldn't a teenaged student be insulted on being assigned a children's book? The back cover even says "BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS." It made more sense to me once I began to read. Judging by the impressive vocabulary, it is probably written at a high school reading level. Still, I think the choice of subject matter would annoy a teenager.

This edition contains the wonderful illustrations of Ernest H. Shepard, the same artist who drew for the Winnie the Pooh books. There are dozens of delightful pen-and-ink drawings throughout. Sadly, wikipedia claims that Shepard "grew to resent 'that silly old bear' and felt that these illustrations overshadowed his other work." It really is true that his Pooh drawings are his most well-known, but they are also quite well-loved. However, to keep Shepard from turning over in his grave, perhaps you'd like to peruse the list of the works he illustrated.

Now it's confession time. I'm sure I read this story in my childhood--this very copy, in fact--but in my memory (mixed up with blind self-centered nationalism) I thought the story took place in the U.S. I'm not sure how I ended up with this notion, as the story very clearly takes place in England. But I should have known. No American wildlife can talk.

Reading in Retrospect: "Under the Lilacs" by Louisa May Alcott

If you're like me, the name Louisa May Alcott brings to mind Little Women and not much else. You may know about Little Men and Jo's Boys (unfortunately I can't remember for sure if I've read one or both of those). But when Under the Lilacs caught my eye at the library a few years ago, it was a delight to find it was authored by Alcott.

This was a sweet little story. I could see why it was not one of Alcott’s better-known classics, but I still enjoyed it. It was a little slow to start but was a pleasant read. At the time, I thought I might recommend it to my book-loving child when she got a little older. I'm glad to be reminded of that thought, because I think she's at the perfect age to read it now.

Mrs. Moss, who has two young daughters named Bab and Betty, is a caretaker for a large old house that has been shut up for some time. They take in young Ben and his dog Sancho who have run away from the circus. Not long after, Miss Celia and her brother Thorny, wealthy orphans, move back in to the house that Mrs. Moss cares for. Everyone is great friends and has grand adventures, like putting on a play (an Alcott staple) or walking to the next town to watch a circus. I can't remember how the book ends, but I have no doubt it was happy, one way or another.

You can download a free e-text copy of this book from Project Gutenberg, or listen to the free audio version from LibriVox. Or borrow it from my local library. I wouldn't call it a must-read for the garden-variety adult reader, and any true Alcott fan is probably already aware of this title, but the little girl in your life might appreciate being introduced to it.

Reading in Retrospect: What was the name of that book?

When Chris and Jess posted last week about a favorite childhood book, my mind skipped right over all seven Chronicles of Narnia, my kindred spirit Anne of Green Gables, Edward Eager's books about magic, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Ramona Quimby and her comical misunderstandings, and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's amazing problem-solving abilities, and went directly to That Book. The magical book I read more than a quarter of a century ago whose mysterious plot, though vaguely remembered, had been so enchanting.

In my memory of the story, four siblings were vacationing (or perhaps sent to live) near the ruins of an old castle. The children enjoyed picnicking and playing among the fallen stones. One cloudy day, the courtyard of the castle was full of mist. The children climbed to the top of the winding staircase within the castle walls, where the top floor was all rotted through, and suddenly the youngest (maybe a boy, maybe blond-haired, but maybe not) fell down through the mist towards the ground far below. The other children rushed back down the stairs, afraid the boy was hurt or maybe even dead, but when they reached the bottom he was nowhere to be found . . . because he had traveled back in time! Now, who wouldn't want to read that story?

I spent years looking for this book because I wanted to read it again. I knew I was taking a risk, as my memory of the book might have been better than the book itself, and why ruin a wonderful childhood memory? But my desire to re-read it outweighed my fear of disappointment, and the hunt was on. My search was made much more difficult by the fact that I could remember neither the title nor the author of the book.

I knew my sister had read the same book, so I asked her about it. She remembered the story, but not the title or author. I scoured the Internet, googling for books about castles and children and time travel and mist. (In the meantime, I found a delightful little 1890 edition of The Children of the Castle by Mrs. Molesworth, with beautiful pen-and-ink illustrations by Walter Crane. Lovely, but not the book I was looking for.) I recalled writing a book report on this book in third grade, and dug through dusty old boxes at my parents' house, hoping to find that book report. All to no avail.

At some point during my quest I came across a website called "Stump the Bookseller," where for a measly little $2 I posted a synopsis of that long-lost favorite book from my childhood, and Harriet Logan of Loganberry Books came through for me. Here is the book I was looking for: In the Keep of Time, by Margaret J. Anderson. What a feeling of triumph, to finally succeed in my search! I bought a gently used copy to add to my library.

Of course, as I suspected, the story wasn't quite as magical when I revisited it, but I don't regret finding it and re-reading it. Now I can share it with my children. Not only that, but imagine my thrill when I realized that the setting for this book exists in real life! The "castle" that the children played in was Smailholm Tower, which still stands in Scotland. These days it houses a museum, so obviously the old rotten wooden floors have been replaced, but I would love to see it in person some day. Even if it only figuratively transports me back in time.

"Dork Diaries: Tales From a Not-So-Fabulous Life" by Rachel Renee Russell

I mostly just read this book to make sure it was appropriate for my 6-year-old to read. (When a first-grader reads on a higher-than-average level, sometimes you have to be careful about what they get their hands on.) I figure it's pretty safe. The main character, Nikki, is no Pollyanna (though she's not Kathryn Merteuil--the coke-snorting bad girl from Cruel Intentions--either), and she's a little too concerned with becoming popular . . . but weren't we all, in middle school?

Here's the inevitable comparison to the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. Just by looking at the cover you can see there's no doubt that this book is basically "Diary of a Wimpy Kid For Girls." The book is cute and fun, but Jeff Kinney did it first and better and slightly more cleverly. Kinney's illustrations are more believably drawn by the Wimpy Kid, whereas the Dork obviously had a professional artist trying to simplify the drawings enough to look like an 8th-grader did them. (Not only that, but Kinney's illustrations are more consistent; the Dork's illustrations vary between stick figures and actual people-looking people.) And whereas Wimpy Kid can be enjoyed by girls just as much as boys, I'm afraid the Dork's hot pink cover and the number of times Nikki says "like" just scream "NO BOYS ALLOWED."

I thought this was a brand new book, but it was actually first published last June, and there is already another one out (something about a Party Girl . . . definitely will have to check that one out and make sure it's OK). I don't think there's any need for an adult to get excited about reading this, but I bet just about any young girl would love it.

"The Magic Faraway Tree" by Enid Blyton

I got this title from some sort of unofficial "100 greatest books" list, or perhaps it was a "100 most-read books" list. I don't think I'd ever read anything by Blyton. This is actually a sequel to The Enchanted Wood, and the next in the series is The Folk of the Faraway Tree. I kind of wish I'd read the first of the three books instead, but I guess it doesn't much matter.

To start with, I was not impressed with the cover art. But having been told many a time to not judge a book by its cover, I forged ahead. I chose this one to read for two reasons: first, as a nice light break from the previous book; second, because I knew I could get rid of it quickly and replace it with yet another book.

I'm sure I will anger Blyton fans who have known and loved her work since childhood, but I must say I couldn't get rid of this book fast enough. Reading it was like torture. The story itself was like one of those candy necklaces: a single thread with just one chalky and overly sweet candy after another. The strangeness of the different "lands" at the top of the tree reminded me very much of some of the lands surrounding Oz in Baum's various stories, which wouldn't necessarily have been such a bad thing except for the fact that it sounded like it was written by and for Care Bears. I'd say it would be best read aloud to a five-year-old. I bet if I had read this book as a child I would have enjoyed it then, and could enjoy the nostalgia as an adult; but coming to it for the first time as an adult didn't work out too well.

The best thing about this book is its illustrations. Not the cover art, which is mediocre and uninviting, but the sweet, old-fashioned, dozen or so black-and-white drawings found inside the book. I searched high and low to figure out who drew them, because my copy of the book doesn't seem to say (which is odd, since credit is given to the distinctly less-talented cover illustrator). I couldn't find any examples on the Internet to compare these to, but from a list I found, it looks like the illustrations from the 2nd edition (1971) by Rene Cloke were used in this 1991 edition. Here is a sampling from my copy:

Even though this book is not a big favorite of mine, whenever I hear the wind in the trees from now on they'll probably be saying, "Wisha, wisha, wisha." And I really am a little bit sad that I'll never get to try a Pop Biscuit or a Google Bun.

"The Ghost of Windy Hill" by Clyde Robert Bulla

This book caught my eye at the library. I just can't pass up a ghost story! But now that I've read it, I question even labeling this post as such, since there was no ghost in it. (How disappointing!) The story is transparent, simple, straightforward and brief. There are no surprises and only a thimbleful of very slightly scary parts. If only the lady in white, Miss Miggie, had turned out to be a ghost--especially if Lorna and Jamie hadn't realized that fact until later--that might have salvaged the story for me. But, sadly, this was not to be. The story wouldn't even make a good campfire tale. It didn't help that the reading level was well below that of the usual young adult fare (I would guess this was written at about a third grade level). At least it went by quickly, and it's not as if it was as bad as Rhino Ranch!

"James and the Giant Peach" by Roald Dahl

I should have read this book thirty years ago but somehow never got around to it. In fact, the only Dahl book I recall reading in my childhood is The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which I enjoyed even though the three farmers were so disgusting. (I have since remedied this situation by reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, so you can stop feeling sorry for me.)

The kids and I watched the "James" movie sometime in the past few years, and I thought it would be fun to read the book to them as a bedtime story, but my local library didn't have a copy of it. Every library should have a copy of James and the Giant Peach! I had to take care of that.

However, even though we now have a copy of the book available to us, I think I'm not going to bother reading this to the kids. My reader snatched it up as soon as it arrived and has already finished with it, my son only wants to hear Peter and the Starcatchers at bedtime, and my youngest is only interested in books about Barbie, princesses, or Angelina Ballerina. So I read it to myself.

It was a romp! I suppose as with most children's books there's not a whole lot of deep thinking or hidden meaning involved, but the story was fantastic (and I'm going with all three of Webster's definitions here). I think Dahl himself put it better than I ever could in the interview included at the end of the book:

"My lucky thing is I laugh at exactly the same jokes that children laugh at . . . you have wonderful inside jokes all the time and it's got to be exciting, it's got to be fast, it's got to have a good plot, but it's got to be funny . . . the line between roaring with laughter and crying because it's a disaster is a very, very fine one . . . you just have to try to find it."

He found it!