The Newest Literary Giant
Tuesday, July 31st, 2012By Glinda
How had I never heard of this book?
I don’t remember exactly where I first found out about it, possibly on Amazon where they recommend books based on previous purchases. Which can sometimes be annoying, and can sometimes be handy. It tends to be a wash.
Anyway, I bought it for my 9 year old, and after he read it, he claimed it was now his second-favorite book after the Harry Potter series, which is high praise indeed. When asked how many stars he would give it out of ten, he offered fifteen.
So, just know that this book is about a group of boys led by Mac (whose real name is Christian) who runs a very specialized business out of the fourth stall in an abandoned school bathroom. He and his best friend Vince are partners and trouble begins when an older boy begins attempting to take them down from the inside.
There is violence. Kids get beat up. Kids do all sorts of things that you would think an adult with half an attention span would notice.
But that doesn’t make this book any less fun, even for forty-year old me.
It reads slightly like a film noir, slightly like The Godfather, and something akin to The Body.
If you’ve got a reluctant middle school reader, this book might be an excellent solution to that problem.
A cryptic advertisement in the local paper leads four gifted children on an unexpected journey to defeat an evil genius. Any more than that and I’m giving too much of it away! If you have young readers who love fiction in the vein of Roald Dahl and Lemony Snicket, then this (eventual series of three books) is for them! The children are put in danger, have to use their wits in unusual situations, and are forced to pit themselves against adults trying to harm them.
My son could not put this book down. He is the type of reader that when he adores a book, will stay up late in order to finish it in one day. Ahem, which is a trait he definitely inherited from me. I try to read as many of the same books as he does so that we can have some non school-related literature to chat about, and I think I liked the series almost as much as he did. As evidenced by the fact that the day after he finished the latest release, I demanded it from him and stayed up a half hour past my bedtime to complete it.
As I mentioned before, I have been purchasing some reading material for the Munchkin related to the, ah, upcoming changes he will be experiencing in the next few years.
Along with the other book, I also purchased The Boy’s Body Book. I skimmed through it briefly before purchasing, and when I was able to sit and read the entire thing, I was pleasantly surprised.
It encompasses not only things like the changes that puberty will be visiting upon him, but also addresses things like needing to take a shower, brushing your teeth, and wearing clean clothes. There are sections about how to do well in school, tips on how to make new friends, and all sorts of other bonus material.
In short, it is everything I tell him, but written in a book form by someone else. And thus for some reason, it bears a bit more weight than just being “my opinion.” Because every eight year old knows that Mom has no clue what she is talking about and just likes to hear herself speak.
This morning before we left the house, I instructed my nine-years-old-in-three-months son to go brush his teeth. This has long been a source of conflict between us, as for some unknown reason, he dislikes brushing his teeth. Usually it is a big fight, and even though I always win, it just makes everyone frustrated. So when he began complaining and asking why he had to brush his teeth, I told him that his book did a great job explaining why he needed to brush, and to go ahead and do it. That stopped him in his tracks. He acknowledged that the book did indeed explain very well why he needed to brush his teeth, and he promptly went and did so without another word.
Dude.
I would have paid EVEN MORE for that book if I’d known it would make my life THAT easy.
46% of you plan on staying with relatives for your summer vacation, and as long as you can stand each other at the end of the week, then all is good. Unfortunately, 28% don’t know what vacation I’m referring to, and 7% are doing the staycation thang. 17% are going somewhere fantastic, aaaand we are all jealous of you. Er, “we” meaning perhaps just me.
Yesterday at Barnes & Noble, I bought the Munchkin about fifty bucks worth of books. I’m all for borrowing from the library, which we do a LOT, but for certain series which I know he likes, I tend to buy them for him so that he can maintain a nice personal library. He’s a big re-reader, and I don’t ever consider buying books for him a waste of money. His sister, on the other hand, is a gleeful destroyer of books, so right now she is dealing will all hand-me-downs and whichever books my family has been unwise enough to purchase for her.
My son will be nine years old in a few months.
I’m thinking it could be time for a bit of, ah, information dissemination on the topic of sex. I say that whilst cringing at the thought, yet knowing it is more important that he receive factual information in a timely manner than indulging any squeamishness on my part.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
My mother never had “the talk’ with me. She never had it with my sister, either. As a result, my sister got her period one day and was convinced that she was dying. She saw blood down there and was convinced that she was having internal hemorrhaging and began to write a will. I got nothing, by the way.
So seeming to have learned that something needed to be done to spare me the same trauma as my sister, my mother bought me a book. She didn’t present it to me and assure me that it was fine to ask her any questions. Oh no, she sort of hid it in a place she knew I would find it, and so I picked it up thinking I was reading something I wasn’t supposed to. Which made reading the book quite an experience as I thought I would get into trouble for reading it, as it mentioned all kinds of things that I thought would get me into trouble if I knew about them.
My mom was tricky like that.
I never told her I read it and she never asked, but it all worked out fine.
I just want to be a bit more proactive about the whole thing than my mom was. And goodness knows that kids learn so much at a much earlier age these days, most of it probably wrong. So I spoke with my husband and he agreed that we should start off with a book and then he would do any heavy lifting in the questions department.
Lo and behold, the book my mother bought me back in the early 1980’s is still around!
I remember the book being funny and informative and not really embarrassing to read. It covered a large range of topics in a friendly, informative manner. And did I mention it was funny?
My copy is already on the way.
That there was a book that tells it like it REALLY is at bedtime with your kids:
(Pics after the jump as this is mildly NSFW)
Having a child is like playing the ultimate lottery. You have absolutely no idea what is going to happen, but you know that the odds of it being completely in your favor aren’t all that great.
When I first found out I was giving birth to a son, I despaired for a short time. I knew nothing about little boys, and I wondered what in the world I was going to have in common with this kid.
Of course, how stupid was that? I blame pregnancy hormones.
I am always surprised by the small ways my son reminds me of myself, and our love of reading is something that we share.
I’d placed a certain book in his bookcase a very long time ago, simply because I wanted him to read it at some point, and yet I didn’t want to put it somewhere I would forget when we moved a little over a year ago. Then I sort of forgot about it.
Until I opened his door one night and found himreading this. He had never mentioned to me that he had started reading it, and I (excited that he was finally reading it, but hoping he wouldn’t hate it) casually asked him if he liked the book.
“Oh yes, Mom!” he answered. “I think this is so funny, I’ve already read it a couple of times now. I love Miss Wormwood the best!”
That’s my boy.