Speechless by Adam P. Schmitt, 2018

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How do you give a eulogy when you can't think of one good thing to say? A poignant, funny, and candid look at grief, family secrets, difficult people, and learning to look behind the facade.

As if being stuffed into last year's dress pants at his cousin's wake weren't uncomfortable enough, thirteen-year-old Jimmy has just learned from his mother that he has to say a few words at the funeral the next day. Why him? What could he possibly say about his cousin, who ruined everything they did? He can't recall one birthday party, family gathering, or school event with Patrick that didn't result in injury or destruction. As Jimmy attempts to navigate the odd social norms of the wake, he draws on humor, heartfelt concern, and a good deal of angst while racking his brain and his memory for a decent and meaningful memory to share. But it's not until faced with a microphone that the realization finally hits him: it's not the words that are spoken that matter the most, but those that are truly heard.

(304 pages)

You'd think a book set at a young boy's wake would be way too morbid to be entertaining.

Somehow, Speechless isn't. It's sad, of course, but Schmitt straddles that line between sorrowful and funny very carefully. Little details, like Jimmy's aunt who is an "expert wake-goer" and Jimmy's ongoing struggles with the dress pants he's outgrown, add a morbid sort of humor to the present-day scenes.

The flashbacks to memories with Patrick start out as comedic interludes as well, but they grow increasingly sadder as the book progresses, painting a picture of Patrick's struggles with what was probably undiagnosed ADHD, or something similar. I got so mad at his parents, because they did such an awful job helping him.

The narrative jumps around a lot, as Jimmy flashes back to all these different memories of Patrick, but since the flashbacks go roughly in order it never becomes too confusing. I thought it was very well done, and by the end of the book I felt like I knew all the members of both Jimmy's and Patrick's families quite well. I got very mad at some of the parents at times (especially Patrick's father and Jimmy's mother!), but it was clear that they were all doing the best that they could and I appreciated that level of realism–no one was ever turned into a stereotype, for good or bad.

Speechless takes material that would normally be overwhelmingly depressing and manages to make it entertaining. It's still sad, of course–Patrick's death was a colossal tragedy. But the tragedy is handled near perfectly, and it's wonderful. Don't read this book if you're dealing with death in your own life, of course, but I think most other readers could definitely get something out of Speechless.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

Death and Douglas by J.W. Ocker, 2017

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Douglas has grown up around the business of death. Generations of his family have run the Mortimer Family Funeral Home. The mortician and gravediggers are all his buddies. And the display room of caskets is an awesome place for hide and seek. It’s business as usual in Douglas’s small New England town. Until one day an incredibly out of the ordinary murder victim is brought to the funeral home. And more startling: others follow. On the cusp of Halloween, a serial killer has arrived. And unsatisfied with the small-town investigation, Douglas enlists his friends to help him solve the mystery. With sumptuous descriptions of a bucolic town and it’s quirky people, fascinating yet middle grade–appropriate insider information about the funeral process, and a crackling mystery with a heart-pounding conclusion―Death and Douglas has something for readers young and old.

(372 pages)

What a perfect book book this would have been to read right before Halloween! It's spooky and scary, with a serial killer on the loose and a main character who spends his life surrounded by death, but never so gruesome that it would be unpleasant to read.

It's perfect for middle school, really–though I liked it too, and I'm definitely not in that demographic anymore. I thought Ocker took a really interesting angle on spooky stories, telling a tale that was no less believable than an episode of NCIS or Monk or [insert your favorite crime show here]. Douglas is very comfortable with death, the sort of death that happens by accident or through aging. He knows and accepts that it is natural and inevitable, and he has a very intimate understanding of the process that occurs–from home removal to embalming to funeral ceremony to burial–because he has grown up as a part of the funeral business. When he discovers a serial killer is on the loose, though, it's fascinating not only to watch him and his friends do their best to solve the mystery but also to watch him grapple to equate his peaceful understanding of death with the horrible, unnatural, untimely death that occurs when there is a murder.

I think this is an important issue to think about, especially in a culture such as ours that is so inundated with books and movies and TV shows that revolve around solving murders. I love Agatha Christie's stories, for example, but none of her characters ever quite grapple with the horribleness of murder in quite the same way Douglas does. I think that's a big advantage of having a kid narrate, and I think it's also part of what makes the book both accessible for younger kids and also possibly a bit too much for them.

After all, dealing with the finality and purpose of death is pretty heady stuff for a kid's book. It manages to do a good job, I think, even without bringing in any sort of discussion of an afterlife. And the characters, both major and minor, are just so well-done that the entire book is a joy to read. It's also surprisingly hilarious for a book that literally has the word "Death" in its title.

Basically, if you want to read it, then do. I highly recommend it. But if you (or the kid you're thinking about) might not feel ready, then set it aside for now. Either way, think about saving it to read on some dark nights in October leading up to Halloween–that's definitely the best time of year for it!

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

Matylda, Bright and Tender by Holly M. McGhee, 2017

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In a courageous debut novel, Holly M. McGhee explores the loss that shakes one girl’s world — and the unexpected consequences of the things we do for love.
Sussy and Guy are best friends, fourth-graders who share their silliest thoughts and deepest hopes. One afternoon, the two of them decide they must have something of their very own to love. After a trip to the pet store, they bring home a spotted lizard, the one with the ancient face and starfish toes, and they name her Matylda (with a y so it’s all her own). With Guy leading the way, they feed her and give her an origin story fit for a warrior lizard. A few weeks later, on a simple bike ride, there is a terrible accident. As hard as it is, Sussy is sure she can hold on to Guy if she can find a way to love Matylda enough. But in a startling turn of events, Sussy reconsiders what it means to grieve and heal and hope and go on, for her own sake and Matylda’s. By turns both devastating and buoyant, this story is a brave one, showing how far we can justify going for a real and true friend.

(224 pages)

Oof, this is a sad one.

Honestly, I was not emotionally prepared to handle such a heartbreaking topic. That's why I kept pushing it down my TBR list. But now I'm to the end of March, and it came out in March, so I really have to review it. I downed it in a single sitting last night.

I just . . . I don't like books about death. No, scratch that. Sometimes I love books about people getting over the deaths of loved ones (case in point: Suzanne LaFleur's Love, Aubrey). I like reading about the turmoil, watching characters face the very worst-case scenarios and come out the other side still living. There's something very poetic and encouraging about seeing someone recover from the unthinkable. And we get some of that in Matylda, as Sussy takes baby steps to begin functioning again after Guy's death, but I would have liked to see even more.

Actually, my biggest struggle with the book is that it was so short. Cut out the lizard trivia (and let's be honest, I want to cut out the lizard trivia–I am so not an amphibian person!) and the book becomes even shorter. We get a few chapters of background that gets us to care about Guy (who, for the record, is way more well-spoken than any nine-year-old I've ever known), one chapter in which the accident actually occurs, and then about a hundred pages dealing with the aftermath.

For the book's short length, it packs in a lot of details about Sussy's grieving process. She has wonderful parents, who know just when to push and when to leave her be, and Matylda is a great focus for Sussy's evolving emotions about Guy's death. I thought everything was very well done, and what I would imagine the grieing processing could be like (though I've never gone through it on such a scale as Sussy does). I did wish we got a little more background with Guy, a few more scenes with his grieving parents, more details about Sussy's and Guy's school life, an explanation about why these little kids run around saying they love each other all the time (no nine-year-old I know would be caught dead saying the word "love!"), and a little background on why all these nine-year-olds are allowed to roam free on their bikes all the time (even after Guy's totally-preventable death) . . . but, you know, maybe all that would have detracted from the raw story.

Anyway, I do recommend Matylda. I think if you're in the right mood, and a little less squeamish than I, you'll enjoy it much more than I did. Every once in a while a person is just itching for a good sad book to wallow in for a while; this is just that sort of book.

Disclaimer: This is an Amazon affiliate link, and I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

How to Avoid Extinction by Paul Acampora, 2016

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For fans of Gary Schmidt and Joan Bauer, a laugh-out-loud intergenerational road trip story from acclaimed author Paul Acampora!

Since the death of his grandfather, Leo's number one chore has been to chase after his grandmother who seems to wander away from home every few days. Now, Gram's decided to roam farther than ever. And despite his misgivings, Leo's going along for the ride. With his seventeen-year-old cousin, Abbey, and an old, gassy dog named Kermit, Leo joins Gram in a big, old Buick to leave their Pennsylvania home for a cross-country road trip filled with foldout maps, family secrets, new friends, and dinosaur bones.

How to Avoid Extinction is a middle-grade comedy about death and food and family and fossils. It's about running away from home and coming back again. For Leo, it's about asking hard questions and hopefully finding some sensible answers. As if good sense has anything to do with it. Against a backdrop of America's stunning size and beauty, it's also about growing up, getting old, dreaming about immortality, and figuring out all the things we can -- and can't -- leave behind.

(208 pages)

Honestly, my gut reaction when closing the book was "man, this needed to be longer!"At barely 200 pages, there didn't seem to be much room for the story to stretch as long as it needed to go. I did really like the characters and the path that they took, but I was also yearning for more.

If I'm being completely honest, actuall, I did have a little trouble with some of the characters: namely, Leo's mother and grandmother. Mainly his mother. She's not actually around for most of the book, so it's hard to get a pin on her personality, but from the little we do get she seems like a rather unpleasant mother. I get that there were reasons for her behavior, that her life hasn't been all roses and sunshine, but she's been very closed-off and hasn't mentioned any of the major parts of her life to Leo (even the parts that include his own birth father). Leo, for his part, seems remarkably nonchalant about all the information she's hidden from him–but grows increasingly curious to find out more as the book progresses. It's a bit peculiar, really, that he hadn't wondered much before about what his gone-away dad was like.

Anyway, I'm not always the biggest fan of quirky stories: sometimes they just feel forced, like someone is trying to hard to be "meaningful" by being bizarre. I think Acampora legitimately knows how to pull off a touching and off-beat story, as he did in his debut Defining Dulcie (my review) all the way back in '06. It definitely works in How to Avoid Extinction as well, though I have to admit Extinction didn't quite connect with me on the emotional level that Dulcie did.

This is a meaningful and interesting book, full of interesting and colorful characters facing up to some pretty tough truths about life. I will admit freely that there was one scene about three-fourths in that made me sob like a baby, and I definitely came out of the book wishing it hadn't ended. I get the general vibe from the book, though, that it could have gone a little deeper. The material felt a little rushed at times, because (as I said at the beginning of this review) it honestly just felt too short. Maybe it's just a shortcoming inherent in the middle-grade genre, but I can't help but bemoan all of the amazing things Acampora could have done with the plot if he'd only taken another hundred pages to write it.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this novel from the publisher in exchange for my honest review.

Circa Now by Amber McRee Turner, 2014

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Twelve-year-old Circa Monroe has a knack for restoring old photographs. It's a skill she learned from her dad, who loves old pictures and putting fun digital twists on them. His altered "Shopt" photos look so real that they could fool nearly anybody, and Circa treasures the fun stories he makes up to explain each creation.
One day, her father receives a strange phone call requesting an urgent delivery, and he heads out into a storm. The unimaginable happens: a tornado, then a terrible accident. Just as Circa and her mom begin to pick up the pieces, a mysterious boy shows up on their doorstep, a boy called Miles who remembers nothing about his past. The only thing he has with him is the photograph that Circa's dad intended to deliver on the day he died.
As Circa tries to help Miles recover his identity, she begins to notice something strange about the photos she and her father retouched-the digital flourishes added to the old photos seem to exist in real life. The mysteries of the Shopt photos and Miles's past are intertwined, and in order to solve both, Circa will have to figure out what's real and what's an illusion.
With stunning prose, captivating photographs, and a hint of magic, Circa Now is a gripping story full of hope and heart. 

(288 pages)

This book was not at all what I expected it to be. It was much, much more than that. I thought it would be a pretty frilly book about a girl who misses her father after he dies, but then realizes that this boy who shows up on her doorstep is really her father reincarnated (sort of like Fluke, but the father becomes a boy instead of a dog), and they all live happily ever after because their family is reunited again.

This is not what happened. And I'm not spoiling anything, just correcting a misconception that you'd probably get from the teaser, because Circa Now never pretends to be a book about reincarnation. Circa and her mother aren't just there as placeholders to mourn for Circa's father; they are real, complex humans who are dealing with their own issues. Circa's mother in particular is nothing like I expected her to be - she is actually a recluse struggling with depression, who never goes anywhere except her home, her studio (where she's a professional picture-taker), and her church five blocks down the road. Circa's father always helped her through the rough spots, cushioning whatever he could for her, but now he's gone and Mrs. Monroe has to fend for herself in the big, bad world. When Miles shows up on her doorstep, her strength is tested even more as she has to take care of him (including taking him to the police, the doctor, etc).

Circa is still in deep mourning for her father, and she struggles to deal with her feelings as she must also try to fill his role in helping her mother cope with the world. She wants to finish her father's big project, which is a wall of pictures from her hometowns history. It was supposed to be a huge community service project, as well as a labor of love for the elderly citizens of the Alzheimer's facility in which the pictures are going to be placed. Circa is desperate to complete the job both in honor of her father and because she wants to help the patients at the facility rediscover their pasts. Her method of coping with her father's death is to try and "step up to bat," picking up all of the pieces she can (while also straining to believe that he somehow hasn't left her for good).

There's some conflict between Circa and her mother, because they have a very hard time understanding each other. Their methods of coping are often opposite, and cause them to butt heads as Circa is determined to finish her father's project, but her mother is just as determined to keep Circa from doing it because she doesn't want Circa to feel like she has to fill her father's place. This conflict felt very real, and added another dimension to the story.

My favorite dimension, though, was the one with Miles. From the minute he walked onto the page I knew that he was going to be a very interesting character. No matter where his amnesia came from, it made him very fascinating - and turned him into a very tortured, lonely boy. I was rooting for a happy ending from the very beginning, because I couldn't help but feel that he (along with all of the other main characters) desperately needed one.

I enjoyed Circa Now, but it wasn't my all-time favorite book. Because it's MG it didn't dive as far into the concepts as it could have, which was frustrating at times. It could have taken things to such wonderful depth! Circa Now still raises some fascinating points about the meaning of life, family, and happiness, though, and I'm glad I read it. If it interests you, then definitely give it a try!