I therefore urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercies, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices that are holy and pleasing to God, for this is the reasonable way for you to worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2

The Girl Who Could Fly by Vctoria Forrester.

Jeremy Cabbage and the Living Museum of Human Oddballs and Quadruped Delights by David Elliott.

Both of these 2008 Cybil-nominated titles explore the themes of nonconformity, of being true to your own gifts and calling, of bravery in the face of a world that wants to squeeze everyone into its autocratic and rigidly “normal” mold. I found both of them to be delightfully eccentric and plain fun to read. No, they’re not “religious fiction”, but both books embody a Christian ethos, whether that’s intentional or not.

In The Girl Who Could Fly, Piper McCloud is the girl, and to the dismay of her parents and the townsfolk, she can. Fly, that is. And since she’s so special, or maybe outlandish and scary, Piper agrees to leave her parents’ farm with Dr. Letitia Hellion to go to a special school for children who, like Piper, have special gifts. (Watch the names in this book; words, especially names, have meanings.) When Piper gets to her new school, however, she learns a lot more than anyone expected. And even though she’s not the most intelligent child in her class or the strongest or the fastest or even the most talented, Piper becomes the leader, and she leads her fellow students to embrace their gifts in spite of a hostile world that tells them that they are freaks.

The Girl Who Could Fly is about giftedness, but the implication is that we are all gifted. We just need to find our gift(s) and practice them no matter what anyone else thinks. Don’t be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

Jeremy Cabbage is an orphan who finds himself among a group of human oddities called Cloons. Because Jeremy is adrift in an evil empire presided over by the Baron Ignatius Fyodor Maximus von Strompie, III, Jeremy bounces from one dangerous adventure to another in this picaresque novel with a hero whose heart is as good as gold and whose courage is beyond question. The Baron is a rather unintelligent villain, but his stupidity makes him even more heartless and vicious in some ways. He doesn’t think at all before he makes a law to abolish anything that annoys him or distresses his wife, Gertrudina. (The names in this book are suggestive, too.) And cloons (congental clowns) make Gertrudina very unhappy. When the cloons become Jeremy’s adopted family, everyone is in peril, even the Princess Rosie and her maid, Mary.

This book started out a little slow for me, but after about three chapters I was pulled right into the story. And as I began to see the parallels with The Girl Who Could Fly, I became more and more intrigued with the worldview and philosophy expressed in both books. Think on these nuggets of homespun wisdom from these two books:

Polly, Jeremy’s friend: “You can’t measure another person’s suffering, Jeremy. It’s like a private ocean, with its own depths and its own changing shores. It’s useless to say who has the hardest time staying afloat.”

Gertrudina: “Everything must be perfect for the birthday ball. Perfect and new! The trees have to go. They’re old! I’m replacing them with replicas made of the finest plastics in the Metropolis! The flowers, too. Oh, and the grass, of course. The effect will be spectacular!” (NOTE: Such idiocy expresses the opposite of wisdom, of course.)

Jeremy: “Sometimes a person has to choose between what is safe and what is right.”

Piper: “A person wants to believe in folks and trust in things, and when you can’t, life doesn’t seem worth living anymore. That’s exactly how I felt. Like it was hopeless. But the more I got to pondering it, the more I just figured that even if some folks are bad, there’s others who aren’t. So I reckon I won’t give up my flying for anyone ever again.”

Jeremy’s and Piper’s stories are heading to the top of my Cybils list.

Other bloggers review Jeremy Cabbage:

Matt at the Book Club Shelf: “The main concept of the story is great, and works well. There are many ideas here, making this book very complex, and discussion-rich. While I would not put this at the top of my list, I do think it would make a good book club choice for students to help each other decipher.”

Mom, Not Otherwise Specified: “You’ll be hearing a lot more about Jeremy Cabbage in the future; the movie rights were optioned by Fox 2000 long before the book was published. But don’t wait to be introduced to Jeremy and his friends on the big screen. Get to know them now, in depth and on paper – and be prepared to fall in love.”

And still others review The Girl Who Could Fly:

Laurel Snyder: “But now I see where it’s headed, and it’s WEIRD! There a great deal of carefully executed political/social commentary (AWESOME) and the most lovely magical details (a glowing giraffe, cricket who sings opera, snapping rose with teeth) and there’s also quite a well-tooled adventure, with some real suspense. VERY well plotted.”

Halfway through this book, I knew I had to nominate it for a Cybil Award in the Middle Grade Fiction category. So I did.

I absolutely devoured this book. I’ve always been interested in memoirs, based-on-fact stories, biographies, and just plain fiction about people who live on the fringes: people with mental illness, the disabled, children who are neglected or ignored. I like to see how these people see the world, how they approach those who are more “normal” than they are, how they think. Reading about those who are somehow out of the mainstream of what we call normal teaches me something about what it means to be human, and what it means to be made in God’s image.

Window Boy is the story of Sam Davis. In some ways Sam is a typical sixth grader. He’s crazy about basketball. He doesn’t like math so much, but he does quite well at language arts. He wishes he had more friends.

But Sam’s outside is so different from that of the rest of his new sixth grade class that no one can see any of the things that Sam shares in common with the other boys in the class. Sam has cerebral palsy. He was injured by the doctor at birth, and the only parts of his body that work even halfway well are his tongue and his right hand. Sam has never even been to school before. It’s 1968, and not many children who are as severely physically handicapped as Sam are allowed to go to a regular public school.

Sam can talk —a little. And he can use a letter board to communicate and do his school assignments. The question is whether or not his teacher and his new classmates and the PTA and the principal will give him a chance to prove himself, prove that he can learn and go to school just like everyone else. And will his single mother be able to keep their apartment in spite of money problems that are threatening to make Sam’s public school experiment a short one? And will Miss Perkins, Sam’s nurse and interpreter, be able to help him make the transition and make friends? Finally, will Sam be able to live up to the example of his hero, Winston Churchill, who overcame a difficult childhood to become one of the world’s greatest leaders?

I found this book to be both inspiring and absorbing. It probably could have benefitted from some tighter editing; there’s a lot of extraneous material at the end especially which interested me but might not appeal to kids, and sometimes the pace is a little slow. However, I didn’t care. Sam’s story was amazing, and I had to keep reminding myself that this book was a work of fiction, not a biography or a memoir. I wanted to find out where Sam was now; I actually wanted to write him a letter of encouragement and congratulations. I predict that many of the middle schoolers who read this book will try to do just that, not realizing that Sam is a fictional character.

The emphasis on bravery and perseverance and on Sam’s relationship with Winnie (Winston Churchill with whom Sam carries on a rich interior dialog) is moving and will be an encouragement to those children and adults who are facing their own life challenges. I think the book will appeal to the Helen Keller fans, whose numbers are legion, who are looking to step up to a more demanding read. Boys who are interested in sports but unable to play for one reason or another may also identify with Sam’s love of basketball. Kids with CP or other disabilities should read this one or have it read aloud to them. Kids who need to understand the world of disability, and all of us do, should also get a taste of Window Boy. It’s not at all didactic, but highly educational nevertheless.

Andrea White on inspiring young people with fiction:

Alaska is a popular subject these days, courtesy of you-know-who, so maybe this book, set in rural Alaska, will ride the wave of Alaska-love, especially if Sarah Palin happens to become Vice President of the United States.

Unfortunately, this verse novel didn’t do much for me. Diamond Willow is a twelve year old part-Athabascan girl: “In the middle of my family in the middle of a middle-size town in the middle of Alaska, you will find middle-size, middle-kid, me.” She finds it difficult to make friends, and her father’s dogs are her best friends.

“Most of the story is told in diamond-shaped poems, with a hidden message printed in darker ink at the center of each one.” I found this layout gimmicky and distracting. I would start reading the diamond-shaped poem on a page, and then get distracted by the bold print “message”, and then have to go back and start reading the page all over again to get the gist of the plot. It was not an effective way to read a story.

Then there was the reincarnation/ancestor guides aspect of the story which was also not my cup of tea. If you like or believe that sort of thing, Diamond Willow might be just the book for you. If not, then not.

And other bloggers say:

Jennifer Schulz at The Kiddosphere@Farquier: “Diamond Willow is not a book that will appeal to a broad audience; for those that enjoy quiet and thoughtful reads, it will be a memorable experience.”

Bill at Literate Lives: “The story is filled with fantastic language and description. Helen Frost has captured the drama and teen angst of middle school in very few words.”

Fuse 8: “Diamond Willow aims younger than Frost’s usual teenaged fare. Examining the relationship between a girl and her sled dog, Frost combines her standard intelligent wordplay with a story that will catch in the throats of dog lovers and people lovers alike.”

Helen Frost’s website.

All I’m reading these days is middle grade (grades 3-7-ish) fiction in preparation for the Cybils. So far 106 books have been nominated in the Middle Grade Fiction category, and I’ve read fifteen out of the 106. So I’m at approximately 14%. And the panel I’m a part of has to whittle the list down to five finalists.

I just finished reading two great ones: Clementine’s Letter by Sara Pennypacker and Window Boy by Andrea White (reviews soon). I would really like to read and review all of the books on the list before Christmas since we’re supposed to announce the finalists on January 1, 2009. That’s about ten weeks to read over a hundred books, since nominations don’t close until Wednesday, October 15th. If you haven’t already nominated your favorite children’s and young adult books published in 2008 (before October 15), you have three more days to do it.

FYI, here’s an alphabetical list of books already nominated for Middle Grade Fiction with link to the reviews I’ve already written.

And here are a few freebie middle grade titles that haven’t been nominated yet, but should be. I’ve already used up my one nomination, but you’re free to nominate anytime from now through Wednesday:

Isle of Fire by Thomas Wayne Batson. I haven’t read this sequel to last year’s Isle of Swords, but I’d like to, and I’ll bet it’s as good as or better than the first book in the pirate adventure series.

Sisters of the Sword by Maya Snow. Karate Kid just finished this samurai tale that I checked out of the library, and he loved it. I think he’s planning to write a review here at Semicolon, but he may be too young (age 11) to nominate it for a Cybil.

So, now I’d better quit typing and get to reading. I figure I need to read and review at least ten books per week to even come close to my goal of reading all the nominees. Wish me luck.

In the author note in the back of this book, a NYT critic is quoted as saying, “It should be said: Kevin Henkes is a genius.” The critic was referring to Henkes’ work in picture books, which includes the Caldecott Award winning Kitten’s First Full Moon and the popular Lily’s Purple Plastic Purse. If we’re talking picture books, I might have to agree with the NYT critic.

However, I found the middle grade fiction title Bird Lake Moon to be slow-moving, like wading through molasses, and rather odd. Told in alternating points of view, by Mitch, whose parents are planning a divorce, and Spencer, whose parents are trying to decide whether eight years have healed their grief enough for them to return to the summer home where their oldest son drowned, the book tries to picture the potentially disastrous consequences of lying and deceiving a friend and at the same time the bittersweet, grown-up feeling of harboring secret knowledge that even the adults don’t have.

So strike one, it’s a Divorce Book. I know Divorce Books are necessary, but I don’t usually like them very much. Strike Two, it’s a guy book in which nothing much really happens. Guys tend to like action. Strike Three, well, I don’t really have a strike three, but what does happen in the book is fairly realistic, but not very novelistic, if you know what I mean. If not, chalk it up to the influence of this strangely out-of-sync novella.

The novel was odd, as I said, and it gave me a creepy feeling while I was reading it. If some kids, or adults, like it and get something out of it that I didn’t, more power to them. I’m just not thinking it lives up to the genius billing.

Twelve year old Owen Burke just fell out of a tree, and now his arm won’t move at all. But since Owen’s an orphan and destitute, there’s no doctor for him, just a few days in bed to recover and then a sling for the now-useless arm. Owen and his younger brother Zach are set to go on the next Orphan Train and find a new family out west, but when Owen decides that Zach will be better off and find a family more easily without a crippled brother to hold him back, Owen makes the sacrifice and goes off on his own.

And where Owen lands is the most unlikely place you could imagine, a floating circus traveling down the Mississippi River. Owen finds a new sort of family in Solomon, the freed slave who works as stable hand and all-round janitor on the circus barge called The River Palace. And Owen becomes attached to the animals, especially the elephants, Tippo and her calf, Little Bet.

The Floating Circus, a straight prose work of historical fiction, doesn’t have much in common with Ms. Zimmer’s 2007 verse novel for children, Reaching for Sun (Semicolon review here), except maybe a certain empathy for the disabled and a talented story-telling ability on the part of the author. I think The Floating Circus will reach a wider audience since it’s appropriate for reading aloud in conjunction with a history unit (pre-Civil War, 1850’s) or for suggesting to children who are interested in reading fiction about circuses or the Mississippi River or slavery.

The story moves along at a good pace, and the book is not too long, only about 200 pages. There is some violence portrayed in relation to both animals and people. Although it’s not graphic or gratuitous, if your child is especially sensitive to reading about the mistreatment of animals or of people, you might want to take a look at the book before handing it over. Otherwise, it’s highly recommended.

Tracie Zimmer’s blog.