The Things We Miss, by Leah Stecher, for Timeslip Tuesday

This week's Timeslip Tuesday, The Things We MissThe Things We Miss, by Leah Stecher (middle grade, Bloomsbury, May 2024), gives a self-conscious girl a chance to coast through all the unpleasant-ness of seventh grade through the magic of time-slipping.  When J.P. finds a magical door in her old treehouse hideout, she goes through....and three miserable days of worried that her large body is being judged and that she's just wrong somehow pass while she is cocooned in peaceful-ness. 

She's exited to share her discovery with her best friend Kevin, who didn't even notice she was gone (her body went on doing its thing while she rested), and at first he's very intrigued....but the magic doesn't work on him.  And as J.P. starts skipping three days here and there more and more often, relying on him to catch her up (her body double doesn't pass on memories), he is less and less supportive, and urges her to skip less often.

And indeed, life is going on during J.P.'s missing days...good things, meaningful things, and not just horrible gym class.  Her friendship with Kevin is strained to a breaking point, because of how often she just isn't there for him.  Her grandfather is dying of cancer, and she's skipping through that too.  And when she realizes just what she has slept through, she knows she has to start facing life with no escape hatch, and try to mend all the lost spaces in her life as best she can.

It was hard for me to care all that much about J.P. at first, as she is very self-centered, and has trouble thinking outside her immediate concerns, mainly her poor body-image, but further into her story, her grandfather's decline.   But her situation is a very relatable one--escapism is often appealing.  And it's good to see her get some sense, and set out on the road to being a stronger, more present person.

It's a really interesting time-slip premise too--her body double fills in for her so well, and is in fact herself though she can't remember it.  It's basically time-slipping as periodic amnesia.  The treehouse door is never explained, although it makes sense in the story that it appeared for her because of her intense desire to have a respite from the negative rain inside her head.  

And in many respects, this is one that a fair number of middle school kids will really see themselves in, and quite possible learn from J.P.'s experiences that the things in life that have meaning make up for the miserable bits, and that being there for those you care about, even if it also comes with mean girl bullying and grief, is worth it.

The Other Place, by Nancy L. Robison, for Timeslip Tuesday

Today's Timeslip book is The Other Place, by Nancy L. Robison (1978).

Mine, happily picked up at a booksale, turned out to be a review copy (very cool to see the retro promotional info, shown below), but I don't think I'll send in two clippings as requested.

I'm making no effort to hold back on spoilers here with this whacky 1970s sci fi story for kids, so if you are a little kid who's never read any science fiction (which you aren't), go read the book and see if you agree with the two Goodreads readers whose first sci fi it was, and who loved it before I ruin everything.

The Other Place starts with Elena and her dad driving off to the house in the country (USA) where they are now going live, following the death of Elena's mom.  Things get weird, and Elena can't see the road behind them anymore, and her dad's stilted remarks don't do much to sooth her growing sense of wrongness.  The cabin is fine, and seems normal enough, except that Elena is woken up by strange noises, and goes off into the woods to see what's happening, and the townsfolk are dancing around in the middle of nowhere. 

A trip to the store the next day adds to the weirdness, when she sees the storekeeper has eyes filmed over with jelly...as do the kids and the teacher in the one room schoolhouse.  One kid, with mostly non jelly eyes, is friendly, lending her a horse to ride, but when she tries to ride her way out of the valley, she finds she can't.  She's stuck.

Turns out the townsfolk are aliens in a little bubble cut off physically and temporally from the rest of the world, her mom was one of them, and her dad has volunteered to help them fix their space craft so they can go home.  Happily for Elena, the friendly kid helps her get out of the valley, but her dad wants to go off with the aliens because he loves his dead alien wife more than he cares about his living kid (the book does not say it quite like this....).  And when Elena escapes after what felt like weeks away from the city, almost no time has passed, and her aunt is there to meet her....and her aunt has.....JELLY EYES!  The end.

The illustrations add a certain 1970s something to the story.

The paperback cover, if you are so lucky to be reading that one, adds even more.  

Omega Morales and the Curse of El Cucuym by Laekan Zea Kemp

It was a pleasure to revisit Omega Morales in her second adventure--Omega Morales and the Curse of El Cucuy (Omega Morales, 2) by Laekan Zea Kemp (October 2023, Little Brown).  A new monster, the legendary Mexican boogeyman El Cucuy, has come to town, and he is kidnapping children, and sending adults into an enchanted sleep.  Omega, her cousin Carlito, and Clau, her ghost friend, are determined to defeat him, but the game he is playing with them has twists and turns that seem to make this almost impossible.

Fortunately Omega has a new magical creature friend at her side, who is both cute and brave, as well has help from other kids in town.  And although most of the adults in her family are asleep, she can still find some help through dreams with them, and those who aren't asleep try to help (with little success, though).  In the end, as was the case with the first book, it is understanding and empathizing with the monster that lets Omega put an end to his reign of terror.

As I said in my review of the first book in the series, Omega Morales and the Legend of La Lechuza, "it never ceases to amaze me how the familiar middle grade themes of navigating family and friends and one's own changing self can be explored in so many different magical ways."  And as was the case with the first book, Omega isn't just dealing with a monstrous external threat but is also struggling to understand her own magic and how it is manifesting.  As was the case in the first book, her mother and grandmother are not helpful in this regard (even when awake), and I continue to be displeased with them.  On the plus side, though, this sequel doesn't have the disturbing bullying Omega experienced in the first book.

It is a book dense with magic, dangers, and Omega's relationships with a swirl of other characters (lots of minor characters)--it pays to read it slowly, because if you are a fast reader like me, you might from time to time become unsure of the particulars of what's happening and who is involved.  And be warned--it ends with a cliffhanger.  But those two caveats aside, it's an engrossing and entertaining story!

Valentina Salazar is Not a Monster Hunter, by Zoraida Córdova

Valentina Salazar is Not a Monster Hunter, by Zoraida Córdova (June 28, 2022, Scholastic) is a fun new middle grade fantasy perfect, just perfect, for kids who have outgrown the elementary magical creature befriending books.  Here we have magical creatures galore, and even rainbow unicorn poop, but there are serious family issues driving the plot, and serious questions about ethical choices.  There's also a wild car trip in a very wild vehicle, a visit to an alternate world where magical creatures live, an evil powerful organization that must be infiltrated, and a kick-ass mom who gets to help (which I appreciated).

Val has grown up in a family of monster protectors, dashing across the country with her parents and three older siblings whenever they hear of a sighting.  Her father was raised to be a monster hunter, dealing with incursions by killing the monsters, but rejected that. Instead, he has taught his family to trap the creatures and send them back to their home world.  But when he's killed by an ora puma (a mountain lion with wings and a scorpion tail), her mother takes the family to a small town where they can have a normal life.  Andie, the oldest sister, leaves home almost immediately to join the monster hunters in a betrayal Val can't wrap her head around.  Lola and Rome seem to be cool with going to school.  But Val is a frustrated, miserable mess, and gets herself into heaps of trouble when she tries to deal with monsters she thinks she sees at school.

But on the last day of school, there really is a fire breathing lizardish chipmunk up a tree...and the situation that ensues not only gets Val one last detention, but it brings her and her siblings a little bit closer.  Then Val sees an online clip of a kid showing off his "dragon" egg, and recognizes it as an ora puma egg.  Determined to live up to her family's creed, she decides, in good middle grade fashion, that she will drive the family monster hunting van cross country to get hold of the egg, and send it back where it belongs.

Fortunately, Lola and Rome aren't going to let her go alone.  

And this is really where the book gets going!  Lots of adventures, new friends, narrow escapes, magical creatures, and more, and it is all most satisfactory. Val's determination and zeal might get her into trouble at school, but it is just what is needed to not only bring her family back together and hold them to the ethical standards by which they were raised, but also to take down a nasty organization that wants to profit from monsters, and will stop at nothing to do so.

Sweetening the pot for the target audience is Val's guilty secret.  She has befriended a cute little sugar loving monster instead of sending it home, and it is rather adorable.  

In short, lots of magical creatures and lots of heart! I enjoyed the whole ensemble lots, especially once the road trip started.

disclaimer: review copy received (aka snatched by my greedy little paws) at ALA for review.

 

The Patron Thief of Bread, by Lindsay Eager

The Patron Thief of Bread, by Lindsay Eager (May 17th 2022, Candlewick) is a heart-warming and heart-wrenching story of a orphan girl's journey towards a safe place in the world.

Atop the unfinished cathedral of the town of Odierne sit its gargoyles, themselves unfinished.  All but one spend the days gossiping about what they see below; the outlier stares out like the others, but has no patience for ideal chatter.  He is full of frustration; gargoyles are supposed to protect, but he is a lump of stone who was unable to save a woman who jumped from his perch long ago to escape arrest.  She and the baby she carried were swept away, leaving the gargoyle to bitter musings.

The baby was fished from the river by a gang of kid thieves, lead by a fiercely intelligent and fiercely lawless boy named Gnat. Little Duck, as they called her, is the youngest of the group, and it's not till the gang's roamings bring them to Odierne, making the cathedral ruins their home, that she's trusted to take on a direct heist on her own.  She must pass a false coin at the baker's, and if she fails to bring back bread, she's sure she'll be cast out.  

And she is successful, winning a more secure place in her young family of thieves.  But then Gnat comes up with his most cunning plan yet--if Duck is apprenticed to the baker, she'll be in a lovely position to syphon off bread and coin to her family....But when Duck is welcomed by the baker, Griselde, and given a room of her own, and given trust as well, she starts down of a path of divided loyalties that almost breaks her.  Over the next year, the pulling on her heart intensifies, and at last she is forced to chose who she will betray...the family of kids who raised her, or the woman who is willing to give her love and safety and a living doing what she loves.  All the while the gargoyle watches, and finally is able to fulfil his destiny as a protector.

I loved all the details of being apprenticed to a baker (I am a big fan of books in which there is lots of making and crafting), and such a lovely baker too! Griselde is really the one of the best mother figures in any middle grade book I've read for ages, and I really liked that she needs Duck in her life to love just as much as Duck needs her. But the overall situation was so tense and discomfiting this was not at all a comfort read...the tension is strung out from beginning to end, tightening to a breaking point where I had to start skimming a bit (reading the end didn't help, because I knew, it being middle grade, things would almost certainly work out, but the process of things working out was very stressful for me the reader!)

It's not action-packed, but more character driven, so don't go into it expecting lots of middle grade fantasy high jinx! It is fantasy, in as much as it's an alternate world, with the sentient gargoyle providing a depressed gargoyle's point of view (in alternate perspectives with Duck's story), but it's not full of magic. Just found family and bread, and worry....lots of love, and, indeed, the happy ending I was hoping for (although it comes with some interesting twists, and a high cost).

Short answer--one I can easily imaging wanting to re-read in a year or so, and I'll enjoy it even more the second time around (this is why I like re-reading....)

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher.

Secret Beneath the Sand (Unicorn Island #2), by Donna Galanti, illustrated by Bethany Stancliffe

In my review of Unicorn Island: The Secret of Lost Luck, the first book in Donna Galanti's series for elementary school readers, I said:   "This is very much a "book 1," introducing the characters and setting the stage for the series. It's more than just an introduction--the new friendship, the discoveries, and the baby unicorn are a solid story--but readers might feel when then finish it that they were just getting started, and will want the next book right away!"  And now I have read the next book, Secret Beneath the Sand (March 8th 2022, Andrews McMeel Publishing). and can say once again that young readers will want the 3rd book straight away too!

Sam now knows her uncle's big secret--he's the caretaker of a magical island off the coast that's shielded by magical mist to keep it safe from discovery.  It's home to unicorns and other magical creatures, and Sam is gung-ho to pitch right in and help out!  But her uncle hasn't shared all his secrets.  When the magic of the island starts draining away, threating the unicorns, one of the darkest of his secrets proves to be responsible for a monstrous manifestation on the island must be confronted.  And Sam is the one who has to lead the charge, even though it upends her world.

This is a perfect series to give to an elementary school kid who loves fantasy and who is still getting their reading feet firmly under them!  The sparkly cover with its shiny stars and the pleasant interior illustrations add kid friendliness.  Although I enjoyed reading this, and appreciated that there was some complexity to the plot involving family secrets, I think the story doesn't have quite enough heft for the older "middle grade" age range of 11-12, but younger readers may well love it!  I would have devoured this joyfully when I was seven or so....so give it to the kid that's been binging Early Reader and young graphic novels about unicorns!

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher

Sisters of the Neversea, by Cynthia Leitich Smith

It sure was fun to revisit Peter Pan's Neverland in Sisters of the Neversea, by Cynthia Leitich Smith  (Heartdrum, June 2021)!  It plunges headlong into reworking the original racist and sexist story, and although it didn't quite work for me, I appreciated and enjoyed it lots! (And it had the added poignancy of a lovely cover by the late, great, and sadly missed Floyd Cooper). 

Wendy Darling and Lily Roberts are stepsisters, tremendously close to each other.  Wendy's site of the family is white, from England, and  Lily's is Muscogee Creek.  They share a little brother, Michael, who they both adore.  But Wendy's dad is moving back to New York city, taking Wendy with him, and the girls are terrified that their family won't survive.

Enter Peter Pan, looking for his shadow, accompanied by his fairy friend, Belle.  

Peter plays Wendy and Michael like the expert manipulator he is, and they fly off with him to Neverland.  Lily sees through him, but can't let her siblings go off with out her, so she follows after them on her own.  When they reach Neverland, Wendy and Michael are taken in to the community of the Lost Boys, and Lily finds the other Native kids.  Soon Wendy realizes that Peter Pan is a tyrannical braggart, and that Neverland, though it is a place of wonders and magic, is no place she wants to stay.  Belle the fairy is herself having grave doubts about Peter, who, having defeated his pirate nemesis, is savagely killing the native fauna for sport and to show off.   

But the Darling-Roberts family is up for the challenge of finding their way home again, and even Peter, in the end, finds a most unlikely family.

There's lots to like here, most notably the power of family.  The bonds between the siblings not only held them together, but tied all the threads of adventure and magic into a moving story.  And it sure was great to see the problematic issues of the original destroyed!

One aspect of the didn't work for me was the style in which it is written.  There are frequent authorial intrusions, and some jarring ways of talking about the characters that threw me out of the story--at one point well into the book, for instance, Wendy is referred to as the "Darling girl."  Additionally, there were many point of view shifts amongst the primary, secondary and even tertiary characters.  Some were simply brief flashes, others lasted for longer chunks, and quite a few included back-story thoughts, and this made the story flow a little roughly for me.  I don't like it when I'm constantly made aware that an outside person is telling the story; it makes the characters feel more like puppets than part of a reality I'm absorbed in (wondering, as I type this, if introverts are bothered more by intrusive narrators than extroverts?)

That being said, this is definitely worth a read! (Kirkus thinks so too, for what that's worth....and their review appreciated "the wry voice of the omniscient narrator."

Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls, by Kaela Rivera

I find, as I get older, that there are fewer books that keep me reading past my bedtime.  So it's always a great treat when that happens, as it did most recently with Cece Rios and the Desert of Souls, by Kaela Rivera (middle grade, April 13th 2021, HarperCollins Children's Books).

Cece's home town of Tierra del Sol isn't very big--most people don't want to live on the edge of the desert that is home to deadly criaturas.  When her big sister, the fierce and fiery Juana, is stolen away by el Sombreron, one of the most feared of the dark criaturas, Cece blames herself (with some reason).  So she becomes determined to get her sister back from the stronghold of the dark beings out in the desert.  

The only way she can think of to do this is to become a bruja, one of the witches who have animal criaturas (beings who shapeshift between human-like and animal form) under their control, and then win the competition in which they pit their enslaved captives against each other.  This would win her the chance to enter the strong hold of the dark beings like el Sombreron.  It's a daunting proposition, as she doesn't have a criatura, or the heartlessness required to control one and make it battle to the death.  Fortunately, she has a compassionate heart.  And this is enough for the Coyote criatura to agree to help her.

Things snowball, and Cece is in way over her head, appalled by what the brujas are doing, and desperate to save her sister.  How can she, a girl with with no fire in her blood, like Juana, succeed?

It's an excellent story, with lots of adventure (kids who love reading about fantastical competitions will love the fights between the criaturas) The dangers are real, and have a more complicated backstory than Cece had realized.  Those who like rich world building will find it entrancing to watch her understanding of the history of her world broadening.   There's lots of heart here as well.  Cece's innate goodness is what lets her succeed, and her found family of not just Coyote but other criaturas as well is utterly charming.  That being said, she's not at all sappily good; she's scared, determined, and fiercely using every big of agency at her control.  She's also dealing with tension within her family; her father's grief and worry has manifested as abuse toward her, the less valued daughter.

The criaturas are drawn from Mexican-American stories, and the sort of reader who loves Rick Riordan-esque books with their wealth of mythological background should be very taken with the mythology of Cece's world!  I certainly was, and I will most definitely be looking out for more by Kaela Rivera (a sequel, for instance, would be nice--although Cece's story stands alone, I'd like to spend more time with her and her criatura friends!

(Here's my one small niggling doubt that was not germane to my reading enjoyment, but which I was bothered by--what with all the battling to the death, the brujas seem to be burning through the criaturas pretty fast, and this morally reprehensible practice doesn't seem to be isn't sustainable.  Unless of course more are somehow being generated....)

Nightingale, by Deva Fagan

If you, or a member of the "target audience" of 9-12 year olds, is in the mood for a fast fun magical adventure of plucky girl and magic sword, with social justice, personal accountability, and friendship thrown in the mix to great effect, look no further than Nightingale, by Deva Fagan (April 20th 2021, Atheneum Books for Young Readers)!

Most poor girls Lark's age work in the aether factories, producing the stuff that fuels the magical technology that keeps their country strong.  But despite managements claims that everything is perfectly safe, it isn't.  Aether dust is deadly, gradually turn those exposed to it into incorporeal ghosts.  Determined to escape that fate, Lark turned to theft instead, and she's become good at relieving people of valuables.  Not good enough, though, to pay off her account with the nasty woman who runs the boarding house where she, and five other vulnerable girls, are trapped.

In the middle of a daring heist at the great museum of the city, Lark catches young Prince Jasper doing aether-work over a famous sword wielded by past Nightingales, protectors of the realm.  In turn, he catches her, and when the sword is reawakened, its magic bonds to her and not to him, as he'd planned.  Now Lark is the new Nightingale, with a magic sword that gives her wonderful powers.

With great powers, though, come great responsibilities.  Can Lark be the hero her country needs? And if yes, is that also the hero that girls like her comrades need?  Caught in a web of greed and deceit, Lark first has to figure out if she's cut out to be a hero or not, and then must to figure out just what sort of Nightingale she will become.

It's great to follow along with Lark as she makes this journey.  For one thing, I'm a sucker for communicative swords with magical powers.  For another, I'm a sucker with books in which the main character realizes the power of friendship, and uses that to help take down the greedy folks in control.  There's a nice dollop of social justice--few mg fantasy books include trade unions and the exploitation of workers.  Jasper's a great supporting character--a lonely, technology minded kid who's able to learn from Lark about all the things that being raised a prince has left him ignorant about. And there are lots of lovely details of the magical technology, past history returning to relevance, and adventures!

But really what I'll most remember fondly is the great sword!

Highly recommended.

The Secret Lake, by Karen Inglis, for Timeslip Tuesday

Just up the street from me is a strange little shop that sells junk, ostensibly raising money for animals.  As a used book hunter, it is both a great place to visit--I've had some good luck, and a horrible one--the children's books are in bins.  Big bins, overflowing.  Which means an awful lot of work is needed to go through them.  Nevertheless, I persist, and on my most recent trip I found an English time travel book for kids--The Secret Lake, by Karen Inglis (May 2018, Well Said Press, which is the author's own press).

It's the story of two kids, Stella and Tom who move into a flat next to a lovely public garden.  There they find a tunnel that takes them down and out again into the past.  They meet a boy, Jack, who's suspected of being a thief, and believe in his innocence.  They also meet two girls who live in the very house where their flat is, and the youngest, Emma, becomes an ally.  They also meet in the past a dog they know in the present, who's always causing much distress for her owner, a very old woman, by constantly running away.

Stella and Tom help Jack clear his name, and return to their own time.  There they realize the old woman and her dog know about the time tunnel too....

It's a perfectly fine story, that I didn't mind reading at all, but which didn't move me much.  The author tries hard for the emotional weight that makes many of the best known time-slip stories (like Tom's Midnight Garden and Charlotte Sometimes) so very memorable, and though the effort is plain to see, the emotional heft didn't feel quite earned.  The fact that unexplained magic moles are responsible for the time travel perhaps contributed to this feeling.  The fact that the time travel experience was very easy, with little fraughtness or distress, resulting in little emotional growth for the two kids, was certainly a contributor.  

Short answer--not a bad book, but not a classic in the making. Perhaps kids who haven't read the great ones will be more satisfied than I was.

Hollowpox: the Hunt for Morrigan Crow (Nevermore #3), by Jessica Townsend

This past week my domestic tasks and my 7000 daily fitness steps for which my insurance will reward me ($25 a month, aka 2 books) have been made infinitely more palatable by the audiobook of Hollowpox: the Hunt for Morrigan Crow (Nevermore #3), by Jessica Townsend (hardover published by Little, Brown, October 2020 in the US). Gemma Whelan, the narrator, is brilliant!  (nb:  because I've listened to the whole series, I don't know how anything should be spelled, so I might make mistakes...)

This is the third installment of the story of a cursed girl, Morrigan Crow, who was whisked away to Nevermore in the Free State the night she was supposed to die, and who has found there a life of magic.  Morrigan, it turns out, is a Wundersmith, able to gather magic around her and use it to make marvels happen.  She's also the only Wundersmith in Nevermore; 100 years ago, a Wundersmith named Ezra Squall revealed himself as an evil monster, and is now an exile.  For a year, Morrigan studied with her cohort of other gifted kids at Wunsoc (the Wunderous Society), but no-one has taught her how to use her powers...except Squall, in brief, strange, and terrifying encounters.

This year is different.  This year she's introduced to a group of scholars studying the long gone Wundersmiths and their arts, with the help of Stolen Hours--vignettes of the past that can be visited.  Morrigan gets to visit Stolen Hours in which Wundersmith kids were taught by masters...and she is thrilled.  

But outside of Wunsoc, terrible things are happening in Nevermore.  Wuimals--persons who have animal bodies, or physical traits of animals, are becoming infected by a mysterious ailment, the Hollowpox, that first drives them into vicious frenzies, and then strips them of their intelligence, leaving them simply animals.  Wunimals have only been accepted as equals in society fairly recently, and when infected individuals attack other citizens (sometimes fatally), prejudice against them explodes, and increasingly harsh measures are taken to keep them off the streets.

Morrigan is desperately wants to help, but her only real hope is to make a deal with the man she fears as much as the Hollowpox, Ezra Squall....the one who created the disease.

On the one hand, it was rather a strain listening to a story of terrible contagion and bigotry and injustice.  It was almost too much of an echo of 2020.  On the other hand, though, this makes it a rather powerful and timely lens in which to look back at our own world's troubles, and reflect on those, and grow.  

The twists and turns of the plot (and there were many of these!), and even more so, the lavishness of the light fantastic soothed and engrossed me--these books, though not breaking any tremendously fresh new fantasy ground, have lovely, lovely magical superstructure to it that is just delightful! In this book, for instance,we get to travel to the library of Nevermore, and it is marvelous (and dangerous....).  Arguably, the magical whimsy is so generous that it slows the story down, but I am totally ok with that in this particular case (possibly because I was listening to it, and couldn't skim description the way I would while reading, and so was compelled to enjoy it for what it was).

Morrigan's story arc keeps progressing.  She is only 13, and still learning that her actions have consequences, and still making some questionable decisions about many things, but she's learning.  New levels and vistas of the magic of Nevermore are revealed in this book, and that's delightful too.  I would, I think, have liked more development of Morrigan's relationships with the other kids in her Wunsoc unit--there's not real deepening of this here. In general, there are lots of characters, and not enough time to develop them all, and because I'm interested in every one of them, I want more.

I also, of course, want the next book on audio now. It really hurt me to not be able to look at the end to see what would happen so I wouldn't have to worry, as I would have done if I'd been reading the phsycial book, but I think this way was better.

The Ash House, by Angharad Walker

The Ash House, by Angharad Walker (Chicken House, February 2, 2021), is a disturbing, gripping middle grade story of kids in a sanctuary, a sanctuary that is also a place of mortal peril. I'm not sure I "liked" it, but I did find it utterly absorbing, especially once I stopped trying to make sense of everything. This is impossible because many central questions, like "is this real?" aren't definitely answered. But, the strangeness aside, it is essentially a story of children surviving on their own trying to be good, and brave, and faithful to one another, and as such I found it profoundly moving.

It begins with an eleven year old kid, hospitalized for chronic, debilitating pain in his back, abruptly deposited at what he thinks must be some kind of convalescent home out in the country. There he's greeted by a resident boy, Dom (short for Freedom), who takes him under his wing and introduces him to the Ash House and its residents, all of whom are kids. He also gives the new kid a name--Solitude (Sol for short), a name as Nice as everyone else's. The concept of Niceness is the central precept of the Headmaster who founded the Ash House and brought the kids to live there.

But the beloved Headmaster has been gone for three years, and the kids are on their own, trying to keep things going the way he would have wanted, trying hard to live up to their names....

Sol is confused. It is a strange, strange place, with many peculiarities, like magical (?) drifting ash, and savage, unnatural beasts (?) prowling (to keep the children safe, or to keep them from leaving?). The other children can't remember anywhere else, and the longer Sol stays at Ash House, the more his old life fades.


I don't know if the Ash House is real, or some supernatural place, or what. But the kids who call it home love their Headmaster, who has taught them the precepts of Niceness, and loved and cared for them. They do not want to leave, although as they can't conceive of an outside world, this is something of a moot point. This is in itself pretty screwed up. But it gets worse.

Ash House isn't a convalescent home where Sol will be cured. Being sick there is the worst thing that could happen. Because then the Doctor comes, and no one is safe.

(the next bit is spoiler; I have to reveal a central fact about the story in order to talk about it).

The Doctor, who has no medical training or skill, basically plunges in to fix the sick kids and screws up. One kid has died. One is badly scarred. And now it's Sol's turn. But the real awfulness is that the Doctor is the same person as the Headmaster, ala Jeckel and Hyde. The kids have trained themselves to hide sickness and to never let the Doctor get them alone, trying to stay away from his interest until the Headmaster is back.

(end spoiler)

And so, whether or not the unbelievable bits are real, or real with a veneer of traumatized kid metaphor making them seem impossible, or utterly unreal, if is a fact that this is a group of kids in a abusive situation, and there has been so much gaslighting/brainwashing that they are trapped. But Sol, who was not raised there, is able to see that staying and hoping for the Headmaster to return isn't the answer.

It's an incredibly vivid story, the sort with lots and lots of description that is so well integrated into the story that you don't really register why your mind is making such clear pictures. It's a suspenseful mystery, as the reader, along with Sol, tries to figure out what's happening. It requires considerable suspension of disbelief, and readers who get cross if there's no closure of explanation will get very cross (there's a letter from the publisher at the beginning, in which she says she doesn't herself know what really happened). It's also the story of a group of children taking their survival into their own hands, and desperately trying to keep their community together, and I cared about them lots by the end of the story!

I can't think of any middle grade book much like it. I can, however, say that it is great for the 11-12 year old readers who are going to love Nova Ren Suma's books when they are teenagers! (which should give those who have read A Room Away from the Wolves and The Walls Around Us an idea of what The Ash House feels like, only middle grade...)

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher

An interview with Katharine Orton (Nevertell) and a giveaway!

Back in the middle of April, I read Nevertell, by Katharine Orton (Walker Books US, April 14, 2020, with much enjoyment! It's a magical, chilly middle grade adventure about a brave girl finding her magic and confronting evil (here's my review).  So it's a pleasure to welcome Katharine here, and to offer a giveaway of this book courtesy of its publisher! Just leave a comment to be entered; closes in one week, at midnight on the 27th!

What was the inspiration for Nevertell? Did the whole story come to you clear in your mind, or did it arrive in bits?

Nevertell has been floating around inside my head in bits for years. Whether in the form of family stories – like the one about when my grandfather was part of a mutiny – or when I first started to learn about Siberian gulags in my school history lessons. I love fairy tales from all over the world and have always been interested in Russian history. And one day I was reading a book called Inside the Rainbow where I learned that at one point in the Soviet Union children weren’t supposed to be told fairy tales. I started to think about how fantasy and the real world intertwine… That’s when all those little bits finally came together, and the idea for Nevertell was born. 

What was the most challenging part of the story, either plot-wise or writing-wise? 

Well, from the very beginning the children are determined to reach Moscow to find Lina’s grandmother. But… that’s thousands upon thousands of miles from where they are in Siberia. So I found myself scratching my head along with the children quite a lot, trying to figure out just how I was going to help them along their journey! But from that challenge sprang much of the story, so I’m grateful for it.

 What are your own favorite Russian fairy tales? 

Oh, there are lots! There’s a brilliant one called The Stone Flower – part of a series I believe involving the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. And I love the character of Baba Yaga who turns up in a lot of folk and fairy tales such as Vasilisa the Beautiful. One of my all-time favourites is called The Soldier and Death, but it’s quite sad. 

This is a rather chilly book, being set in the Siberian winter; what's the coldest you yourself have ever been? 

I’ve been to some pretty cold places, like Scotland in winter and the French Alps – brr! But the answer is probably a lot sillier. I got stuck in Central London once with a friend. It was night, it was cold and I was shivering because I had no coat, and for one reason and another we had no obvious way to get home. My friend suggested we sleep on a bench and head off in the morning. Er – that wasn’t going to happen! Worried about my fingers – and the rest of me – turning to ice, I insisted, and we did manage to make our way back eventually. But our journey was quite the chaotic ‘adventure’ in itself. 

What will your next book be about? 

This time we’re visiting Dartmoor in England, a place steeped in its own mystery and folklore, just after World War Two. It follows an otherwise ordinary girl with a strange connection to the spirit world, who finds herself caught up in a dangerous, magical prophecy. I probably shouldn’t say too much more, but you can expect a sprawling, epic landscape, spirits (some good and some with wicked intent), more fairy and folk tale magic, and, most importantly of all, characters you can root for. But what is it really about? My best answer to that is: healing.

Thanks Katharine!  Your next book sounds right up my alley!

When You Trap a Tiger, by Tae Keller

When You Trap a Tiger, by Tae Keller (Random House, middle grade, January 2020), is a lovely story of family, and love, and loss, and how kids try to make sense of things that are beyond their control.  It is poised right at the tipping point between fantasy and realistic fiction; it's one of the few middle grade books I would call "magical realism," about which more later.

Lily's mom has uprooted her and her big sister, Sam, from California to move in with their halmoni (Korean for grandmother) up in Washington state.   Nothing has been explained to Lily, and she and Sam are confused and unhappy.  Their uncertainty grows when it becomes clear that all is not well with Halmoni.  And Lily has a worry of her own when she starts catching glimpses of a tiger.

The tiger is tied to the Korean stories Halmoni told the girls when they were little, of two sisters who were transformed into the sun and moon to escape from the fierce tiger threatening them. When Lily tells Halmoni what she's been seeing, instead of offering reassurance, her grandmother makes her even more anxious--long ago she stole stories from the tiger, and stashed them away in her collection of jars, to keep the sadness sealed away.  And when the tiger begins to speak to Lily, it tells her he's there to reclaim what was stolen.  

Lily thinks that if she can trap the tiger, she'll keep her grandmother safe.  But how do you trap a tiger that might or might not be real?  She's always been shy and quite, but her hunt for tiger trapping information leads her to friendship with a quirky boy she meets in the library, who's happy to help her.  Before the tiger is trapped, it offers her a deal--if she releases the stories, Halmoni will feel better.  And so Lily hears again from her grandmother all the bits of the story of the two sisters, but now she realizes there's more to the stories than little Lily had understood.

And her grandmother does feel better, with the release of the sadness of her past.  But it is not a cure.  Alongside the sadness, though, is a family coming together, and finding better understanding of themselves.  Lily moves past her image of herself as a stereotypical "quiet Asian girl," Sam moves past her prickliness back into a more loving pattern with her family, their mother unclenches from her tight tension.  They find community too, and so though the ending isn't happy, it isn't devastating.

It's a lovely paean to the power of stories, with Lily, an utterably loveable and relatable character, at the heart of it.  The tiger, clearly real to her, appearing and speaking to her throughout the book, becomes believable to the reader as well, even readers who "know" that tigers from stories don't just show up in real life.  Sam, her big sister, can't believe in the tiger, until its magic briefly, but clearly, impacts reality.  

I bristle when people call any fantasy or magic in the real world "magical realism."* In almost all real world fantasy, the characters clearly recognize what is magic and what isn't.  The tiger is real to Lily, though, and to label it fantasy seems like a denial of Lily's beliefs.  It's something that can't be explained that never-the-less is true.

If you love stories about stories, and family, and love, and grief, and tigers, read this beautiful book!

Ps:  unable to work it into my review, but wanting to mention it since positive LGBTQ representation isn't overly common in mg books: Sam, the big sister, has a lovely relationship beginning with another girl at the end of the book.

*for instance, I remember someone describing Laurel Snyder's book, Bigger Than a Breadbox, as magical realism.  I think that a breadbox that is a time travel portal isn't any sort of realism, but a straight up magical breadbox.  As I understand magical realism, which might or might not be what it really is, the un-real has to be seamlessly woven into the actual, and accepted as simply what is.  On the other hand, I would have to call this fantasy, because spirit tigers from stories don't talk to people in real life as I understand it. Along the same lines, if Christian saints appeared and started chatting, I'd call it fantasy, but since the characters might disagree, with this just being part of the world as they understood it, I'd label it magical realism.

Bone Talk, by Candy Gourlay

Bone Talk, by Candy Courlay (middle grade, David Fickling Books, November 5 2019 in the US), is set in the mountains of the Philippines in 1899.  Samkad is ten, on the verge of become officially recognized as a man, and taking his place as a warrior of the Bontoc people, fighting their enemy, another mountain people,  on and off as they have for generations.  His best friend Luki also wants to be a warrior, but she's a girl, and that's not the role awaiting her.   The ancestors are close at hand, giving guidance and protection, the rice grows well, and the world seems to be working as it should.

Then the world changes.  An American arrives, with a boy originally from Samkad's village, who grew up in the lowlands.  The man is friendly, sharing knowledge of his strange country and its customs.   But other Americans have come to the Philippines too, bringing war, and they too come to the village.   They are not friends, and Samkad's passage from childhood to adulthood is the trauma he and his father must face together in the wake of the American war.

I did not know anything about the Philippine-American War before reading this book, though the general trajectory of violent invasion and clash of cultures didn't surprise me.  But the story isn't about the invasion so much as it is about Samkad's growing up, and coping with the dramatic disruption of his world.  He's a great, believable kid, anxious to prove himself, making impulsive decisions that sometimes aren't great, and ultimately come through everything true to himself.  There's enough about the war and the Americans to make things exciting, without that story decentering Samkad and his perspective as things fall apart around him.

The sights and sounds and even smells of Samkad's world are well described, making this place and its people vividly real, which in turn makes the story of invasion and cultural disruption even more powerful.  The story ends gently, with the horror softened by a reprieve for Samkad and the Bontoc people, and indeed, after finishing the book, I was relieved to find that the Bontoc are still living in their mountains (see link above).

So the book is two things--an excellent, and universally familiar story of growing up, and a great introduction to a culture very foreign to many US readers, and to the horror of "culture contact" and imperialism for young readers!  And it is, in fact, endorsed by Amnesty International:

"Amnesty International endorses Bone Talk because it upholds many human rights, including our rights to life, to equality, to have a religion, to enjoy our own culture. It also shows us what can happen when these are taken away from us."

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher.

The Clockwork Ghost (York, book 2), by Laura Ruby

The Clockwork Ghost, by Laura Ruby (middle grade/YA, Walden Pond Press, May 15 2019), continues the adventure begun in The Shadow Cipher without missing a beat.  Twins Tess and Theo, and their friend Jaime, are still following a twisting trail of impossible clues through an alternate New York of mechanical marvels.  They still have more questions than they have answers.  And they still have enemies, most notably a nasty piece of work  and his henchwomen who want to eliminate the threat they might pose to greedy plans to revamp the city.

There's no point in recapping the story.  It is a dream of puzzles and ciphers and mechanical machinations as clues are found and followed.  And it is a very bright and vivid sort of dream, that doesn't make sense exactly but never leaves the reader twitchy and wondering if there will be an ending or not. And the clues and such are cool, and are anchored into the history of the city.

But what I loved most were the three kids at the heart of the story--their person-ness was never overwhelmed by the bright and shininess (or sometimes dimness) of what was happening around them.   Their characters don't Develop in a journey from a to b, but rather become more and more strongly who they are.  As a reader who finds it off-putting when action and adventure leaves a character with no time for me to get to know them, I appreciated this lots.

There are also many touches of humor and whimsy that pleased me very much, as did many direct discussions of social justice issues.

And then the ending.  I hope we don't have to wait two more years for the third book!

I liked the first book lots (here's my review) but I liked this one more, mostly because as someone who works professionally in historic preservation the threat to the historic apartment book in the first book was much too uncomfortable for me!  The threat to historic buildings is still here, in a general sense, in this one, but not right in one's face.

In my review of the first book, I said:

"At one point the kids hear the story of a zoo giraffe who escaped captivity and threw itself into the river, and they sit, "watching the water together, imagining giraffes loping gracefully beneath the surface, making their way home" (page 246 of the ARC).  Which I think might be the overarching metaphor of the whole book (or perhaps not), but which in any event is an image I love."

And this feeling I have about the metaphor of the giraffes (impossible home-goings, the beauty of the unreal and impossible, the graceful loneliness of giraffes/people doing their best)  is even stronger now I've read the second book.

If you want a more coherent sort of synopsis, here's the (starred) Kirkus review.

Note on reader age--this is being sold as one of those 10-14 year old sort of books, not clearly YA because there's no romance/sex/growing up in a YA sort of way, but one that will appeal to kids older than MG.  Basically give it to smart thoughtful kids/grown-ups who have the patience not to want answers right away.

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher

Order of the Majestic, by Matt Myklusch

Order of the Majestic, by Matt Myklusch (middle grade, Aladdin, May 7 2019), is one to offer kids dreaming of magic, and hoping it will find them one day.

12-year-old Joey Kopecky wasn't one of those kids.  He was content flying under the radar, living an unambitious life of computer gaming in New Jersey, when his life was upended by perfect standardized test scores.  Now he's been offered a place at one of the most exclusive schools in the country, where every kid is a genius.  He feels like a fraud--knowing how to take tests is a skill, certainty , but is it really a hallmark of genius?

But one final test, a strange one involving 150 magic tricks to solve, leads to a 151st trick that transports him to the ghostly shell of a once grand magical theater, the Majestic.  It's fallen into ruins, and to get inside Jack must pass through spooky wraiths, but once he makes it, he finds the magician who once made it famous, the Great Rodondo.  Rodondo was once the leader of the Order of the Majestic, working to keep real magic alive by encouraging his audiences to believe.  Sadly, belief waned, and an enemy order sprang up, wanting the power of magic with no obligation to use it altruistically.

Rodondo sees in Jack the potential for magic, and decides to teach him in one last effort to keep the diminished Order alive.  Two other kids, from offshoots of the order, are invited to join the training as well.  Shazad and Leonora have been brought up with magic, and each thinks they are the one who should be bequeathed the most powerful artifact of the Order, the magic wand once wielded by Houdini.  Jack just wants to learn magic...he doesn't want the responsibility of being head of any order.

But he certainly doesn't want the wand to fall into the hand of the sinister antagonistic Invisible Hand, and he certainly does want to keep himself and the other two kids alive. So he draws on the one talent he can count on to get himself out the clutches of the Invisible Hand--how to solve test questions without actually knowing the right answer...

It's a long book of some 400 pages, but it's a fast read, with humor and  the familiar edge of competition and familiar "kid discovering his powers" story keeping things going briskly.  It's not a book of numinous power and beauty, but it's a perfectly serviceable story.  Jack's solution to the immediate problem is rather lovely, and though there's the set up for more to the story, this installment comes to a satisfying end.

Short answer--not one that moved me in any powerful way, and not remarkably memorable (except for the end, which I did really like!)  but a solid read nonetheless that should please the target audience, especially kids who enjoy doing magic tricks! (a few useful tricks on standardized test taking are gracefully thrown in too, for a bit of added value!)

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher

Outwalkers, by Fiona Shaw

Outwalkers, by Fiona Shaw (David Fickling Books, Middle Grade, Feb 26, 2019), is set in a future England that closed its boarders after the Faith Bombings.  To keep people "safe", they are chipped, and warned not to venture into the countryside for fear of the virus that lurks there.  When Jake's parents die, he's sent to one of the government homes, which are basically prisons for unclaimed kids.  Jake escapes, and returns to his old home, where he's reunited with his beloved dog, Jet.  But then he's faced with an impossible journey--escape from England to his grandparents in Scotland, on the other side of a heavily militarized boarder.

Fortunately for Jake, he's found by a band of Outwalkers, kids in circumstances similar to his own, who are also trying to head to the free north.  The Outwalker kids have been on their own long enough to learn how to survive...but even once they remove their chips, the journey north is fraught with danger.  When a security guard accidently dies while trying to catch them in London, the danger gets even more intense.  Escaping into an abandoned Underground station, they are safe for the moment, but it is a trap.  And when a new girl joins their band, wanted by one of the highest government officials in the country, a safe way north seems even harder to believe in.

But they make it in the end, thanks to remarkable luck and a series of helpful grownups appearing like dei ex machina to risk their own lives to get the kids to safety.

It's certainly an exciting story, with lots of peril and uncertainty and close shaves.  If  you like survival stories, you'll find lots to enjoy in that regard;  hunger is a constant in these kids' lives (aside--I appreciate that one of the things the kids steal is tampons; nice bit of realism!). If you are looking for strong friendships, you'll find them here too, to a certain extent.  The reader is expected to believe in the strong bonds that form amongst the kids as they look out for each other (and I did), but the stress of their journey, and the traumas that each one carries with them, means that there's little time for bonds stemming from sharing and talking.   Fiona Shaw's choice to indicate dialogue with beginning dashes, -like this, she said, is jarring, and didn't work well for me, and what will young readers think of it?

So my reaction was somewhat mixed, but if you like kids on the run from the evil government, and it is a very evil government, terrifyingly plausible, you might well enjoy it lots!

In case you were wondering/worrying-- Jet, Jake's dog, has a role in the story, and (spoiler warning) he doesn't die.

disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher

Flight of the Bluebird (Bland Sisters #3)--review and interview with Kara LaReau

Flight of the Bluebird, by Kara LaReau, illustrated with great charm by Jen Hill, is the third and final book of The unintentional Adventures of the Bland sisters (Abrams, January 8, 2019).  Kale and Jaundice, abandoned by their parents, lived a life of utmost blandness and boringness until adventure shattered their staid lives.  First they are kidnapped by pirates, in The Jolly Regina.  Next they whisked off by an unexpected aunt who's a famous magician, on a train ride full of mystery and excitement in The Uncanny Express (my review).  And now, in Flight of the Bluebird, they fly off to Egypt to face an unscrupulous illegal trader in antiquities (not a nice persona at all!) and, maybe, find their parents....

The titular Bluebird is the small airplane, piloted by daring aviatrix, Beatrix, sent by their parents to save them from some unknown danger.  But instead of taking them to safety, the Bluebird flies to Egypt, where they might solve the mystery surrounding the magical scarab Jaundice acquired in their previous adventure, and perhaps even find their long-lost parents...if danger doesn't find them first!  And there is plenty of danger, involving an evil archaeologist selling antiquities, kidnappings, and sundry other threats.  The sisters don't have the chance to peacefully be dull.

It makes for a fun read, and it's lovely to see Jaundice and Kale continue to emerge as three dimensional characters!  The magic of the scarab, and the wild adventures in Egypt, add a fantastical excitement to the story.  It's a fine conclusion to a saga that manages to be both wildly silly (for both grown ups and kids, with cleverness to delight the former and high jinks to delight the later), and at the same time thought-provoking.

And speaking of thought-provoking, it was a great pleasure to get to ask Kara LaReau some of the thoughts provoked in me!

By the time I read the end of Flight of the Bluebird, I realized that the Bland sisters were not Bland at all, and probably never had been; in this third book, when we finally learn why their parents left them, we get (or at least I got) a shock—they were incredibly brave and resilient from the get go (and though their lives and food were boring, this may well have been a coping mechanism rather than a reflection of their characters). So my question is—did the development of Jaundice and Kale into three dimensional characters, distinct from each other, and not at all bland, surprise you, or had you been realizing all along as you wrote them that this was going to happen?

Yes, I think their adherence to routine was a coping mechanism in their parents’ absence; their Blandness is a bit more inherent, though I think it became more extreme when they were left to their own devices.

In some ways, I wish Jaundice and Kale could have just stayed the same throughout the series, but I knew there had to be some character development in order to keep their story interesting. So I knew it was something I had to do, maybe not from the get-go, but gradually. In The Uncanny Express (Book 2), they do start using their brains and realize how much they can accomplish when they work together and apply themselves. So that kind of sets them up for Book 3.

And following from that, to make them over the top interesting and daring etc. wouldn’t have worked; did you have to work hard to keep the girls as bland as you could?

Making them bland was actually the easy part! I’m so in their heads that I just knew, for instance, that Kale’s first reaction to landing in Egypt was to note how much sand there was. (Her favorite color is brown, after all.)

There’s a point when they’re imprisoned in the tomb of Seti I where Jaundice and Kale get really angry, probably for the first time in their lives. That was a harder scene to write, because it was such a departure from their baseline, deadpan emotional state. 

This third book is also the most fantasy-ish of the trilogy, yet it the only one in a real place (and the one in which the girls are the most real, with real parents on hand….).   What made you decide to put in this actual fantasy twist of magical scarabs?

I knew that I wanted the final book to be an homage to Indiana Jones adventures, and there’s always a bit of magic in those stories, whether it’s the Ark or the Grail (let’s not talk about Temple of Doom or Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, ahem). Since Jaundice is always pocketing random objects, it seemed natural that she would take something truly valuable at some point—and I thought that would be a nice twist to leave at the end of Book 2 and carry into Book 3. 

The Bland books don’t overtly offer kids ethical lessons (except the obvious one in this third book of don’t illegally sell antiquities!), but when you were writing them, were there any big issue things you wanted kids to pick up on? (other than “you can be an interesting person even if you wear “boring” colors” which is my main take away!).

There are “lessons,” however subtle, in the books. Book 1, The Jolly Regina, has a little subplot about standing up for yourself, as Jaundice and Kale help one of the pirates who’s being bullied by her shipmates. In The Uncanny Express, the Bland Sisters learn about the importance of using their eyes and ears and being present in the world, and that you can’t take anything (or anyone!) at face value. Flight of the Bluebird is about being brave and getting out of your comfort zone. But these aren’t “issues” books, of course. They’re meant to be romps, maybe with a little message peppered in.

Do you think you’ll ever write for older “middle grade” kids—the 11 to 13 year olds--yourself? (which isn’t of course to say that kids that age wouldn’t like the Bland sisters….) 

I don’t think about age range when I’m writing; I just let the story unfold and figure out who it’s for later. So you never know!

Final question—did you ever regret giving them such awful names (euphonious, but awful), or do you stand by that choice?  If you had to pick being named either Kale or Jaundice, which would it be?  

No regrets. I stand by my naming choices!

Of the two, I’d probably want to be named Kale; it’s the closest to my actual name, and it’s evidently gaining in popularity these days!

Thank you, Kara, both for the interview and for writing the very entertaining books!

Snared: Escape to the Above, by Adam Jay Epstein

Snared: Escape to the Above, by Adam Jay Epstein (Imprint, June 2018), is a fun adventure fantasy for the young end of middle grade; if you have a kid of ten or so who's intrigued by Dungeons and Dragons style fantasy, offer this book!

The only life young Wily has ever known has been spent down in a monster-filled maze of caverns, making traps to snare adventurers searching for his masters treasure.  Fortunately, many of the monsters are his friends, and one young hobgoblet girl, Roveeka is like a sister to him, even though he himself is a strange sort of hobgoblet, not shaped quite like all the others.  And fortunately, Wily enjoys creating puzzle and traps (cleaning up giant snail slime and pushing boulders back into place not so much).

No adventures ever make it anywhere close to the treasure.  And Wiley never goes outside.  But the boredom of this state of things is relieved when a party of adventures arrive who don't play by the rules.  The elf, the fighter with the magical detached arm, and the earth golem make it through alive, and as well as the treasure, they want to take him away with them too; his skill with traps makes him valuable in his own right

So Wily, and Roveeka, who comes too, get to see the Above world.  Though it is wonderous in many ways, it is a place of danger as well.  It is ruled by a fanatic king, who is determined to bring order to everyone's lives, kidnapping them with his mechanical minions to live perfectly structured lives in his mechanical city.  Wily and the adventures, against their will, find themselves not looking for treasure, but looking for a way to bring the tyrant down, and, along the way, to solve the mystery of Wily's parents.

The strength of the story is the charm of the found family of the two kids, human and hobgoblet, and the adventures.  The adventures are not at first interested in the kids except as a means to an end (treasure enough to escape the kingdom), but gradually strong bonds form, and that's a pleasure to read. It's also lots of fun to see the above world through Wily's eyes, but I wish his innocence had lasted longer...I think the strangeness should have lasted longer than it did.

The adventure part is fun too, and any kid who enjoys tricksy dangers and creepy creatures will be enthralled.   Suspension of disbelief is required with regard to Wily's mechanical brilliance (he manages to quickly whip together a propeller plane at one point), but it's a fantasy, so one can let that slid.

In short, it's not a particularly complicated book, and the final challenge is perhaps too easily overcome (it's a bit "voila, a happy ending!), but it has charm, and I think it's one that works well for its target audience, though I myself didn't love it enough to imagine wanting to re-read it.