When their mother dies, Jules, Brooke, and Lexi may not exactly be celebrating, but their feelings aren’t that far off. As demonstrated in the opening chapter in Jenna McCarthy’s new novel Everything’s Relative, the girls had challenging childhoods at the hands of their widowed mother. As adults, they’re not particularly close to each other, but they are drawn together at the reading of their mother’s will. Because even though she’s gone, their mother is not quite done trying to control them.
Apparently, their mother had been hoarding investment money their whole lives, and her final wishes are to leave that money– and we’re talking millions of dollars– to her three girls, but only if they play by her rules. Each is given a year to meet specific standards in changing their current lives, be it related to career, relationships, personal appearance, or maybe even all three. One might say that the changes outlined in the will reflect “what’s best” for each of the women, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be willing to do the work, especially because of the source of the demands. However, millions of dollars are at stake, and money like that can be quite convincing.
The opening of this novel had me really uncomfortable and somewhat surprised at the depth of negative emotion from this usually pretty funny, lighthearted author. Thankfully, the introduction simply served as a snapshot of the lives of three sisters when they were younger following the death of their father. To say that their mother mistreated them is an understatement, but they all survived, each developing their own unique coping mechanisms. At first, each daughter seems a bit one-sided, but as the story progresses, we get to see more depth to their characters.
Humor comes second nature to McCarthy, and even though there are darker aspects to this story than her previous novels and (hugely hilarious) memoirs, it’s not surprising to have quips, often with well-placed pieces of profanity, that cause a sudden burst of laughter while reading.
I heartily recommend this incredible debut novel.
follows the story of Fereiba and her family. Fereiba’s mother died when she was born and she has always missed her; her father’s second wife provided him with several more children, all of whom stole her love and attention so that little was left for Fereiba. She was initially denied an education, but when she at last persuaded her parents to send her to school, she worked hard and caught up quickly with her classmates. Finally, her initial offer of marriage is given instead to her sister, but Fereiba ends up married to a man whom she deeply loves and respects.
Alfred Noyes’ 
tell the timeless tale of a highwayman who loved the innkeeper’s black-eyed daughter, and the plan they make to meet which is thwarted by the ugly stableman who is jealous of Bess’ love. He tells of their plan, the King’s men come to capture the highwayman, there is death and sorrow, and then a ghostly ending. It’s perfect for youngsters! I actually do mean that. It’s dramatic and romantic and there’s something for everyone–love! jealousy! being shot down like a dog on the highway! Plus there’s that excellent opening and close…and still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees/and the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas/when the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor/a highwayman comes riding, riding, riding/A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. You can just hear the hoof beats and a shiver runs down your spine.
Tenneyson has fallen into disfavor in our generation, and I can see why–his rhymes seem facile and even juvenile sometimes, and of course he is so very Victorian and we are so very Not. But I still think he’s terrific for introducing children to poetry. Those rhymes go easily into the memory, and his Arthurian tales are enchanting. 
, of course, tells the tale of the mysterious Lady who lives in a tower and can only view the world for a mirror. When Lancelot rides by, she gives in to temptation and looks out the window, thereby loosing a curse upon herself that leads to her death. The poem is atmospheric and lovely, and speaks to the loneliness experienced by every 12 year old girl. (I’m really not trying to pick on that age, but don’t you remember how strong all the Feelings were? And how little that had to do with how well things were going in your actual life?) Beautifully done.
offers a glimpse into a world of Nordic battle that will appeal to all the Avengers fans, and of course Tolkein. This is a fascinating tale of other-worldly monsters, battle-hardened warriors who thirst for glory, and the concept of honor won through war. In real life, I’m basically a pacifist, but I get the beauty of the concept, especially since it’s expressed in poetry from Homer onwards. Beowulf, with its defense of home and brother/family/community against monster, is practically protest-proof. Plus, it’s a great introduction to Angl0-Saxon use of kennings, which is when two words are hyphenated to give a poetic name to a single noun. Probably the best-known example of this is from Beowulf, when the sea is called the “whale-road” and the “gull’s-path.” Blood is referred to as “battle-sweat” or the sun as a “sky-candle.” I love kennings and think we should use them as much as possible in modern English. (Or maybe not, unless you can come up with things that work as well for our culture today as theirs did.) This version uses Kevin Crossley’s interpretation and retelling of the original Anglo-Saxon epic, and the illustrations are wonderful–really capturing the feel of the poem.
Twelve year old Mai (or Mia, as she is known to everyone outside of her family) has just finished school and is ready for summer break, which in California means beach and friends. Mai is a hard worker, a straight-A student, and a dutiful twelve-year-old daughter, but she really wants to stop thinking about SAT words and good grades and simply enjoy summer. 
