friend #8: Ella Enchanted

            I think it’s safe to say that Gail Carson Levine is my absolute favorite YA author, and one of my primary influences as a writer. Her first novel, Ella Enchanted, is a re-imagining of the Cinderella story, and a Newbery Honor book. I’m always wary describing this book to people, because when I name it most people think of the 2004 movie with Anne Hathaway. Now, that movie is “based” on this book, but (must…contain…rant…) it’s really not. I mean, it’s just not. Not even close. (I’m seriously having to remind myself not to go too much into this, but in my defense, the movie took one of my absolute favorite books and made it into a silly piece of fluff.) Ok, I’m done talking about the movie. Promise. I’ll review the book now.

Gail Carson Levine, Ella Enchanted, HarperTrophy, 1997.

            Ella begins the narrative of her life by telling the reader about her curse: at birth, she was “blessed” with obedience by Lucinda the fairy. This means that when given a direct command, Ella literally must obey. If she does fight the urge to give in, she experiences aggravating physical symptoms such as loss of breath and extreme dizziness. Ella reminisces about her childhood, in which she discovered the hard way that telling others about her curse led to being cruelly manipulated. Returning to the present, Ella’s mother dies from an illness despite the best efforts of the family’s fairy godmother (and cook), Mandy.

            At her mother’s funeral, Ella meets Prince Charmont, or Char, who is friendly to Ella and grieves with her over her mother. Also attending the funeral is a Dame Olga and her two daughters, Hattie and Olive. Lady Olga is a friend of Ella’s father, and attempts to comfort Ella with a sickening sweetness. Hattie attempts to make conversation with Ella and comes across haughty and snobbish, while her sister Olive is rather dull and appears to only care about the food. As this is a Cinderella retelling, these three characters practically stink of stepmother and stepsisters. However, before they become Ella’s relations, her father decides to send her to the same finishing school as Hattie and Olive. At finishing school, Hattie discovers Ella’s obedience, although she doesn’t know its cause. This doesn’t stop her from using it to her advantage, and she makes a slave out of Ella.

            Once the girls are home, Ella’s father announces that he plans to marry Dame Olga. At the wedding’s reception, Ella leaves the party to explore the upper floors of the old castle used for hosting such events. There she meets Char, and the two spend the afternoon avoiding Ella’s new family and dancing to the music of the orchestra below. In a long-forgotten room, they discover a beautiful pair of glass slippers, which happen to fit Ella perfectly. Soon after the wedding, Char leaves to spend a year in the neighboring kingdom, and Ella’s father leaves to travel as his being a merchant demands. Dame Olga wastes no time in making Ella a servant in her own house. She too becomes aware of Ella’s obedience and uses it to her own advantage. During this time Ella spends most of her time with Mandy, her only friend and comfort.

            Over the course of the year Char is gone, he and Ella exchange a multitude of letters, and their affection for each other grows. Finally Char declares his love, and Ella, ecstatic, pens a passionate reply. However, before she sends the letter, she realizes with horror that she cannot in good conscience risk attaching herself, such a willing slave, to the future ruler of the kingdom. She knows that should an enemy of the royal family discover her curse, she would be a weapon in their hands. Mournfully, she writes to Char as Hattie, explaining that Ella was never really in love with him, and treated his affection as a silly game.

            When Char returns, his parents give a ball in hopes of finding him a wife. Ella, desperate to see him despite having given up his love, attends the masked ball and watches him from afar. Unfortunately she is discovered by both Char and Hattie, and rushes home in tears. There she makes hasty plans to run away with Mandy, but her stepsisters and Char show up before she can leave. There her curse is practiced on to the utmost as Char urges her to marry him (little realizing that he is giving a command), Hattie commands her to go to her room, and Dame Olga tells her to accept to connect the family with royalty. It is in the midst of this chaos that Ella discovers how sacrificial obedience must be, and whether she can of her own will break this tyranny that has ruled her since birth.

            Maybe it’s pedantic to say it in so few words, but this book is just really, really good. Levine’s writing style is upbeat and fun, and exactly descriptive enough to place the reader right there next to Ella. The heroine herself is plucky and determined, with just enough imperfection to make her realistic. The fact that she narrates her own story makes it easy for the reader to empathize with Ella, mourning her hardships and rejoicing in her triumphs. Virtually every character in this book has a full personality and is easy to imagine as an actual person instead of merely a name and a face. This skill for characterization is one of the many reasons I admire Levine as a writer. She sets her reader right in the middle of a beautiful fantasy world, and gives a familiar story a great twist. I know I say this about every book, but I literally can’t recommend this one enough. Please, please read it (and don’t bother comparing it to the movie). You won’t be sorry. Happy reading!

**Ok, just to clarify, I do somewhat enjoy the movie as its own entity. If it would just not pretend to be associated with this wonderful book, I could enjoy it that much more. 

friend #7: The Thief Lord

            Ok. I think I’m gonna start the transition away from strictly children’s literature, although that genre may very well crop up again. After all, I do have paper friends my own age, in case you were wondering. This next book, though, I guess could still be considered a kid’s book although in my opinion it’s more of a young adult novel. I first read it when I was at least 10, I think, so we’ll say it pushes out of the children’s genre. I don’t know. I’m not here to define the genres, just review them. Next up: The Thief Lord.

Cornelia Funke, The Thief Lord, Scholastic, 2002 (U.S.)

            When I was about 10, one of my friends started a book club of about 10 or so girls, and we would get together weekly and take turns suggesting books to read and discuss. One of the books I discovered this way was Cornelia Funke’s The Thief Lord. The book begins by introducing us to Prosper and Bo, two orphaned brothers who have run away from their aunt and uncle and come to Venice, Italy, because their mother loved the city and talked about it often. The boys come under the protection of the Thief Lord, a boy who, as his title implies, steals for a living. The Thief Lord, whose proper name is Scipio, also shelters and/or employs three other vagrant children (Hornet, Riccio, and Mosca), and all six children have taken up residence in an abandoned movie theater.

            Although Scipio usually chooses his robbery targets himself, one day he receives a request to steal an ancient wooden wing with promises of a great reward. Not one to pass up a challenge, he agrees to the task, enlisting the help of all the other children in this high-stakes burglary. The children come to find that the wing is a broken off piece of an old carousel said to possess unearthly qualities. Along their journey to completing this task, they accidentally enlist the help of Victor the detective (hired by Prosper and Bo’s aunt to track the boys down), and Ida Spavento, the owner of the wing who is unaware of its importance.

            After the clan turns the wing over, they decide to follow their mysterious client to the carousel’s hiding place: the Isola Segreta—the Secret Isle. Once there, they observe the carousel’s amazing power. By riding it, one can change his or her age, either backwards or forwards. Scipio resolutely decides that he’s tired of childhood and ready for adults to begin taking him seriously. He rides the carousel and ages himself forward into perhaps his late teens. After grudgingly writing to his worried father to assure him of his safety, Scipio goes to work for Victor and joins his practice. Prosper, Bo, and Hornet are taken in by Ida, and Riccio and Mosca find odd work for themselves. None of the other children venture to ask Scipio if he ever regretted his ride on the carousel, but the six remain friends with each other. Prosper and Scipio make one more trip to the Isola Segreta, only to discover that the carousel has disappeared, to where they can only guess.

            This is a wonderful adventure-filled story that transports the reader to the beauty and history of Venice and throws in some Italian to boot. There’s even a glossary of Italian terms used in the back of the book, and a detailed map of Venice in the front. Details like that make The Thief Lord a wonderful novel to really lose yourself in. Cornelia Funke makes it easy to imagine that you’re there along with Prosper and Bo and Scipio and the rest of the gang. Although presumably no child wants to be orphaned and homeless, the carefree lifestyle of these urchins has a certain appeal. This illustrates yet another reason books are such worthwhile adventures: their stories provide portals to otherwise impossible or unpleasant situations and make them exciting and magical. The Thief Lord does exactly that. So gear up for the streets of Venice, and happy reading!


**Side note: in 2006, a movie version of the book was made that I haven't yet seen. From what I can tell, it's not the greatest piece of filmmaking in the world, but I shouldn't judge a movie by its trailer, I guess (although, that's what trailers are meant for...). Anyway, see the movie if you like, and tell me if it's good. But read the book first!!

friend #6: Island of the Blue Dolphins

            Wilderness survival is a great topic for literature. It allows the reader to ask, “What would I do if I were stranded in the wild?” without leaving the comfort of his or her own home. The genre’s popularity spans the centuries, from Robinson Crusoe (1719) to Swiss Family Robinson (1812) to Lord of the Flies (1954) to the film Cast Away (2000). It only follows that a children’s novel of the same genre would be clamored for, and to fit in that niche I submit Island of the Blue Dolphins, by Scott O’Dell and…wait for it…another Newberry Award winner. (There’s also My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George, but I wasn’t introduced to that book until after my childhood). As the genre demands, O’Dell skillfully takes the story of a young girl alone on an island and makes it fascinating for all 29 chapters.

Scott O’Dell, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Houghton Mifflin, 1960.

            Karana is a young girl belonging to a tribe of Native Americans who live on a small island off the coast of California. Her island is visited by a group of Russian trappers, who ask her father’s permission to hunt the otter that live just off the coast. The two groups strike a trade bargain, but when the Russians prepare to leave, they pay a fraction of the agreed-upon price. This sparks a battle between the natives and the Russians, leaving most of the tribe’s men (including Karana’s father) dead. The new leader of the tribe takes a canoe and sails off in search of new land to support the group, and some time later sends a ship back for the rest of the tribe. On the morning of the ship’s departure, as it pulls away from land, Karana realizes that her little brother, Ramo, is not on board. In desperation she jumps off the ship and swims back to shore, finding Ramo on the beach. By that time, however the ship is too far gone for the siblings to join it.

            They reason that another ship will come for them in time, and set out to make the best of their situation. They find their empty village stripped of any leftover food by the pack of wild dogs that roams the island, and must forage for their meals. The next day Ramo decides to fetch a canoe and paddle it around to the village side of the island. Karana laughs at him, telling him he is too small, but letting him go nonetheless. She waits near the village for him to come around in the canoe, and as more time passes, she grows uneasy. Finally she goes in search of him, and finds him dead, killed by the wild dogs. Grief-stricken, she carries him back to the village and vows to somehow kill the dogs.

            She decides not to live in the village, now haunted by memories of so many people now gone. After a while she decides to try and strike out for the land to the west in one of the canoes the tribe left behind. After making careful preparations, she sets off, only to get lost at sea after a few days. Eventually she finds her way back to the island, and decides that she must stay there until outside help comes. She makes a new home for herself, adding to it over time. At one point she finds the remains of a whale carcass, and uses its ribs to fashion a fence around her house.

            She does succeed in killing some of the wild dogs, but forms an unlikely friendship with the pack’s leader, whom she names Rontu. Rontu leaves the pack for Karana and becomes her constant companion. She does see the Russians again, perhaps a couple years into her isolation. She doesn’t dare reveal herself to them, and instead hides during their stay. However, she does reveal herself to the woman accompanying the hunters, and although the two women do not share a language, they are able to communicate by hand signals. The hunting party leaves soon afterward, and Karana is left alone again. By this time she has made friends with a variety of animals on the island, including a pair of birds and a couple of otters. She has made weapons and can hunt as well as any man, and has a decent life for herself. Finally, many years after she was abandoned as a child, a ship comes bearing men from a mission in Southern California, near where her people landed. She packs up her things, including her dog and two birds, and sets sail for the mainland, watching her island as it fades into the distance.

            This narrative is actually based on a true story. Known as the Lone Woman of San Nicolas Island, this member of the Nicoleño tribe lived by herself on the island from 1835–1853. Upon her rescue she was brought to the Santa Barbara mission and taken under the care of Father Gonzales. Her language could not be understood, but she and the Californians were able to communicate to some extent. O’Dell turns this story into a piece of children’s historical fiction, and it works extremely well. Obviously this novel is not meant to be taken as a literal interpretation of the Lone Woman’s time spent on San Nicolas, but the fact that it is tied to actual events serve to make the reader care about Karana that much more. Her survival skills and sharp thinking are engaging to read about, and whenever I read her story, a (very) small part of me wants to be stranded right along with her on that island. It’s a scenario that will obviously never happen to any of O’Dell’s readers, but reading about it gives you the fun without the inconvenience. Look for this one on the award-winner shelf of the kid’s section in any bookstore or library. Happy reading!

friend #5: A Wrinkle in Time

            Well…five entries in and I’m already neglecting this blog. While I’m not exactly holding myself to a schedule, I do intend to post something more often than once a month. Sorry!

            I love well-worn books. They betray a hungry reader and a story worth devouring more than once. The books I love the best often fall apart fastest, but they’re the ones I care enough about to tape their covers back on and hot-glue their bindings back together. One of these paper friends I’ve been promising myself a new copy of for years is A Wrinkle in Time. It’s a fast-paced, young adult sci-fi novel, and another Newberry Award winner. It’s also surprisingly deep for a kid’s book, and I get something new out of it every time I read it. It’s certainly darker than the books I’ve talked about previously, but that darkness just makes the light at the end that much brighter.

Madeline L’Engle; A Wrinkle in Time; Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 1962.

            The book begins by introducing us to Meg Murry, a teenage girl with glasses and braces spending a sleepless night alone in her attic bedroom during a thunderstorm. After she ventures downstairs to find her mother and little brother, Charles Wallace, also awake, the three are interrupted by a pounding on the door. They open it to find an elderly woman, bundled up against the storm, who introduces herself as Mrs. Whatsit. After she has been fed and warmed by the Murrys, she sets off, casually mentioning to Mrs. Murry on her way out that “there is such a thing as a tesseract.” This shocks Mrs. Murry, who later explains to Meg that this theoretical fifth dimension is what her father was experimenting with when he mysteriously disappeared years ago.

            Charles Wallace, who despite his age is uncannily intelligent and has almost a sixth sense about whether a person or situation can be trusted, decides the next day to go in search of Mrs. Whatsit with Meg. On the way they bump into a school acquaintance of Meg’s, Calvin O’Keefe, and decide to bring him along. The three kids meet Mrs. Whatsit’s companions, Mrs. Who and Mrs. Which, who inform them that Mr. Murry is in need of assistance. Later that night, the three odd women show up and whisk the children away to another planet to help the Murrys' father. 

            The six travelers visit a few different planets, and along the way the three women (who are, the children begin to understand, actually higher beings whose natural form is not physical) begin to explain things to the children. In space, they are shown a great darkness that obscures much of the natural celestial light, and are told that Mr. Murry is somewhere beyond that darkness, fighting it. The women also try to explain the tesseract, their mode of travel—they liken it to an ant trying to cross a piece of fabric, and instead folding the fabric so that the distance travelled is almost nothing. They also show the children their own planet from afar, and the children observe that it too has begun to be overtaken by the darkness. 

            Finally, the children are taken to Camazotz, where the women can no longer assist them. The three begin to explore, and find that every resident of this new place is in sync with one another, almost like robots. They enter a large building in the center of town, and are met by a man with red eyes, who offers (or threatens?) to make the children part of the system. Charles Wallace, in an attempt to figure out who the man really is, gets hypnotized by him and begins acting as though nothing is wrong. They then find Mr. Murry, who is unable to help Charles. Charles, still “possessed,” in a sense, leads Meg, Mr. Murry, and Calvin to IT, a pulsating, disembodied brain controlling every living thing in the city. Its nearness threatens to overtake them, and in desperation, Mr. Murry tessers off the planet with Meg and Calvin, leaving Charles Wallace behind. After a respite on a dim planet with kind aliens who care for the humans, the three women visit again, and although they cannot interfere with matters on Camazotz, they prompt Meg to realize that she is the only one who may be able to rescue Charles Wallace from the mind of IT. She is taken back to Camazotz by Mrs. Which, and after a long and arduous struggle, frees her brother’s mind by her love for him. All four humans are then transported back to Earth, and the Murry family is reunited.

            Even though this synopsis is long, I feel that I’ve not done the book justice at all. This is a wonderfully crafted story that puts the reader in the middle of the heavenly battle between good and evil. The story, while wearing the clothing of science fiction, gives the impression that more than the Murrys and their fictional (?) universe is at stake. The reader, hopefully, comes away wary of becoming merely a slave of society, while seeking to diminish the darkness in his or her own life and wanting to increase the love they show to others. All this is accomplished in a mere 200-some pages and within the covers of a children’s (or at least young adult) novel. That astounding achievement makes this a book worth reading many, many times.

friend #4: A Little Princess

            Growing up, I had quite a vivid little imagination. One of my favorite things to do was to dress up and put myself in the shoes of whatever literary character was on my mind that day. I often got my mom and sometimes my siblings involved (making them play the villain and/or sidekicks, of course) and inhabited my character with gusto all day. More often than not, I played Sara Crewe, the downtrodden little heroine of A Little Princess. She was one of my favorites not only because she was mistreated and made to do chores all day (the part of her mistress, of course, was played by my mom), but also because no matter her circumstances, Sara refused to let her bright spirit be broken. I saw a piece of myself in Sara, in her cheerful attitude and joie de vivre. I frequently wished I could actually be her, or at least plop myself into her story and meet her. But I guess reading her story more times than I can count has sufficed, because she was and is still one of my dearest paper friends.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess, Frederick Warne & Co., 1905

            Until the age of seven, Sara Crewe has been raised in India by her wealthy father, a Captain in the British army (her mother having died when she was a baby). However, her father has decided that she needs to be schooled properly in England and so, after a long journey and a tender goodbye, Sara is left in London at Miss Minchin’s Select Seminary for Young Ladies. Because her father dotes on her so, Sara is given extravagances denied to the other pupils including two large rooms to herself and a French maid. Miss Minchin quite appreciates the extra income provided by such an affectionate father, and Sara is made her star pupil, which instantly makes the other girls either her enemies or her adoring fans.

            Sara quickly shows that she is not one to make a show of choosing friends. Upon seeing a girl called Ermengarde teased and ridiculed (by students and teachers alike) for being slow with her lessons, Sara takes a liking to her and decides to be her friend, much to Ermengarde’s surprise and delight. Sara also befriends Lottie, one of the youngest students. Lottie feels entitled to throw a tantrum every so often because her mother died when she was younger. Sara comforts her by explaining that she doesn’t have a mother either, and tells Lottie stories about what she imagines their mothers must be doing in heaven. Sara even befriends the young scullery maid, Becky. She begins to leave food for Becky after noticing that she constantly looks hungry. Soon Becky’s shyness has worn off, and the two steal time together in Sara’s rooms after Becky has done her chores.

            Then, tragedy strikes. While Sara is celebrating her birthday at an extravagant party paid for by Miss Minchin (to be reimbursed by Captain Crewe), the news arrives that the Captain took sick with jungle fever while back in India and has died. Miss Minchin, infuriated that she is out the cost of the party and that Sara’s education will no longer be funded, threatens to throw her out onto the street. Upon consideration, though, she keeps Sara and makes her work in exchange for a room (in the attic, next to Becky) and whatever meager scraps of food the Cook lets her have. This is when the magic occurs. Not only does Sara’s spirit not collapse under the weight of all the dreadful changes in her life, it seems to grow. She decides to pretend that she is a princess, despite everything going on around her. It exasperates Miss Minchin to no end that she simply cannot break this child’s will.

            Sara eventually makes another friend by looking out her attic window to the house beside the school. This friend is the Indian servant of an older gentleman, and the servant takes a shine to the poor little girl in the attic. After convincing his master to help him, and by way of a connection between the two roofs, he does his best, in secret, to make the dreary little attic a slightly more comfortable place for Sara to live. Through this friendship, Sara quite suddenly discovers that the gentleman next door is an old friend of her father’s, who has been looking for her since Captain Crewe died. Having found his charge, the gentleman removes her from Miss Minchin’s and restores to her the fortune that was thought lost upon her father’s death.

            Sara Crewe is really an amazing little creature. She combines a childlike innocence with a maturity and dignity lacking in even some adults. Her story’s popularity is evidenced by the three feature films that have been made of it over the years (1917, 1939 w/ Shirley Temple, and 1995) although personally, I’m not a big fan of any of them, especially the most recent one, which tried to give the 1905 story a Hollywood-style facelift and failed. This is another instance in which I will hold fast to the almost always true saying: the book is better than the movie. Not only that, this book is just really, really good! If this story appeals to you at all, please go read this book. I can almost guarantee that you’ll make a paper friend of your own. Happy reading!

**Fun fact: Warne & Co., the publisher of A Little Princess, also published the works of Beatrix Potter.

friend #3: Five Little Peppers and How They Grew

            It’s funny how, as a child, the world and everything in it is just a little bit bigger than as an adult. When I was young and reading about the adventures of the Five Little Peppers (five siblings ages 3-11), they seemed quite grown up and mature. When I read it now, the children in the story seem younger, and I marvel at their maturity beyond their age. I think that’s part of why I like this book. It’s not that I grew up with the Five Little Peppers, I grew up around them. And, as they haven’t aged a day since I first opened this book, their stories are still every bit as charming to me now as when I was obliged to look up to these remarkable children—come to think of it, I still look up to them!

Margaret Sidney, Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, Lothrop Publishing Co., 1881.

            The five little Peppers (Phronsie, Davey, Joel, Polly & Ben, youngest to oldest) live in a little brown house with their mother, Mamsie. Since their father has died, they all do their part to eke out a living—Mamsie sews, assisted by Polly, and the boys all hire themselves out for odd jobs. Theirs is a plain and simple, but jovial existence. Perhaps because of their poverty, this family is extremely close-knit, and they protect and defend one another in every way possible. The book follows the family through a series of everyday adventures, including Polly’s eyes going bad from sewing in dim light (she recovers, thanks to much tender loving care from the rest of the family), and Phronsie’s wandering after an organ monkey which leaves her lost and far away from home. She is found by a boy named Jasper King and his dog, Prince, and this encounter brings a new friend into the Peppers’ lives.

            Soon Jasper is practically another Pepper, and his elderly, wealthy father takes a shine to the Peppers, especially Phronsie, who calls him “grandpa”. With Jasper’s help, the little brown house has a Christmas for the first time. When the Kings move away to their other residence to be with Jasper’s sister and her three boys, Jasper becomes so forlorn that Polly is sent for, and while staying with the Kings she is given music lessons, to her utmost delight. However, Polly soon becomes homesick for her family, and so, in secret, Phronsie is brought to the great house, to both sisters’ rejoicing. Finally the rest of the little brown house comes to visit, and soon afterward Mr. King proposes that Mrs. Pepper stay and oversee his house. The Peppers will live with the Kings, and the children will receive the education their mother has been so desperately wishing for. The book ends with the Peppers’ discovering that Jasper’s brother-in-law is actually a cousin to Mrs. Pepper, which results in a loud and joyous family reunion.

            Five Little Peppers has the extraordinary ability to draw the reader into these children’s lives, and makes one wish to be a fellow resident of the little brown house. The adventures the Peppers have are both simple and enthralling, and it’s a very easy book to want to read over and over again. Much to my delight, I have recently discovered that Margaret Sidney actually wrote twelve books chronicling the lives of the Peppers, after her original intention of four books was overwhelmingly contradicted by her fans. Because these books were written at the turn of the 20^th century, they have a unique charm that transports the reader to a simpler age, where one’s siblings were one’s best friends, and where the word “whockety” was considered “dreadful”. Unfortunately, to my knowledge this book is currently out of print, but many libraries still carry the series, and I just found one of the books very cheap on eBay. Trust me, they’re worth getting a hold of. Happy reading!

friend #2: Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH

            One of my favorite childhood traditions was gathering the family in the living room after dinner and listening to my dad read aloud (who always knew the perfect voice to bring a character to life). Many of the books I loved reading as a child were introduced to me this way (including, multiple times, the Narnia series…we’ll see if I get to that in this blog. I’d be tempted to write WAY too much about them) and as a result of hearing them, I still hear those voices in my mind when I read the book to myself. One of these books was Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, a story about a family of field mice who, in an emergency, turn to an extraordinary group of rats for help. This is another Newberry award winner (that might be a theme in these reviews…), and one—yes, of many—of my favorite kid’s books. 

Robert C. O’Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Atheneum: 1971.

            Mrs. Frisby is a field mouse who lives, with her four children, under a cinderblock in the corner of Mr. Fitzgibbon’s garden. Each year when it comes time for the farmer to plow his garden, the Frisbys move to their summer home far from the humans, on the edge of a stream. However, one year the youngest Frisby, Timothy, gets sick with pneumonia just before plowing time, and cannot be moved out of bed. Mrs. Frisby, in desperation, seeks advice from an old owl deep in the forest, who tells her to solicit the help of a colony of rats who live under a giant rosebush in the Fitzgibbons’ yard. Fearful, yet with a mother’s stoic heart, she ventures into the rosebush, and finds that this is no ordinary rat pack. These are the rats of NIMH: large, highly intelligent beings who have built an underground home for themselves with running water and electricity who can also read and write.

            Mrs. Frisby is directed to speak with Nicodemus, who tells her the story of the colony’s beginnings. He, along with his family and friends, lived on the streets and scavenged for garbage until he was captured by a team of scientists and brought to a lab called NIMH. There he and many other test subjects were given a series of injections, and put through many different kinds of intelligence tests, including mazes and speech recognition. They soon surpassed the scientists’ expectations, and were eventually able to escape from the lab. After some wanderings, they found the Fitzgibbon’s yard, and have been living there for many years. The rats agree to help Mrs. Frisby, and propose that moving the cinderblock a few feet to place it behind a large rock will leave it out of reach of Mr. Fitzgibbon’s plow. This plan succeeds, and the Frisbys are all kept safe, thanks to the rats.

            This is a clever, engaging book that is just as interesting a read for adults as it is for children. These characters are adults with adult problems, and O'Brien simply uses talking animals to tell their story. It’s not a fantasy story per se, but has enough adventure to be as entertaining as if it did contain dragons and princesses in addition to talking mice. Now I have nothing against a good fantasy; this story simply appeases my “common-sense” side that I often have to put on hold while reading children’s literature. This is a wonderful novel for all ages, and a great book to read aloud (character voices required). As with The Whipping Boy, look for this one in the kid’s section with other award-winners. Happy reading!


**Side note: there are two sequels to this book, written by the author’s daughter (Jane Leslie Conly). Although they are not quite Mrs. Frisby’s equal, they are still great reads and very entertaining. They are: Rasco and the Rats of NIMH and R-T, Margaret, and the Rats of NIMH.