380 p. Dial Books for Young Readers/ Penguin Group (USA) Inc., August 29, 2013. 9780803738553. (Arc obtained at ALA Annual, courtesy of the publisher)
Willow Chance is a twelve-year-old adoptee and a bit of an odd-ball. She's a genius and a tad obsessive, especially about gardening, nature, and medical conditions. She's also an astute observer. She knows she doesn't fit in. She knows that her parents desperately want her to, so she tolerates school and all the disappointments that it brings, to please them. When she aces the state test, she is accused by the school administrators of cheating and is sent to a counselor for evaluation. She protects her parents by handling it herself. They have no idea that she has weekly "counseling" sessions after school. It is during one of these sessions that tragedy strikes and Willow's world falls apart.
The structure of this story is unique, at least to me. It took me awhile to realize that it's told essentially in one sentence paragraphs, not quite blank verse, not quite standard prose. This enhances Willow's rather intense, emotionless voice and lends itself nicely to her meandering scientific observations and deadpan (or unintentional) humor.
The POV shifts from Willow's first person account to an omniscient third person and slightly backwards in time before staying in the "after." The one-sentence structure is maintained in the third person as well. Upon reflection, all of the folks surrounding Willow are fractured in some way, so this makes a certain sense.
The descriptive language is astounding - were I highlighting my arc, nearly the entire book would be neon yellow.
"The anxious woman leaned on her desk, and her brow
knitted into a strange pattern of angled, intersecting lines.
I felt certain that if I stared long enough, I would find a
math theory in the woman's forehead.
But the lines rearranged themselves before I could work
out the dynamic,..." (p. 36)
The characters are unique, a bit out there and, for the most part, trying their best. Willow changes each and every one. There's Del, the inept school counselor to whom Willow is assigned when an inept school administrator assumes her perfect state test school is due to cheating. There's Mai and her brother Quang-ha, who has anger issues. Willow meets them because Quang-ha's session is just before Willow's. There's Pattie, Mai and Quang-ha's mother, who, with just a few whispered words from Mai, lies to the police and tells them that they are family friends, enabling her to save Willow from going immediately into foster care.
There's a lot of Quirk here. There are also Plot Contrivances. I've a feeling folks are going to either love or hate this book. I fell in love on page one and decided to stay in love when the snark and the eye rolls occasionally threatened. I even loved the rather happy, slightly unrealistic ending. I let go and went with it because I became invested in Willow immediately despite the fact that I will never, ever again eat dipped ice cream. I stayed invested because Ms. Goldberg Sloan painted a portrait of grief that tore my heart out. I stayed with it for all the little pockets of lovely language and imagery. I stayed with it because I know quite a few Willows. They can be very, very difficult to be around and literature reminds me that there is a story in every Willow.
Please make room for Willow.
280 p. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, August 20, 2013. 9780316210584. (Review from arc obtained at ALA Annual)
As a first line, "You've never met anyone like me," is intriguing, but not one to pop in the "memorable first line" file. It's the second one that grabs you. "Unless, of course, you've met someone who survived her mother trying to drown her and now lives with an alcoholic father."
Whoa. Twelve-year-old Sarah Nelson keeps two diaries, one hidden in plain sight, which is reassuringly mundane to any prying adult eyes. The other is carefully hidden and contains her true hopes and fears, one of which is a fear of insanity. After all, her mother went insane. She is constantly checking herself for the crazy gene she is sure will manifest itself at any time. She also keeps a list of "trouble" words. "Crazy" is a trouble word and so is "love." Sarah learns which words are trouble words by the reading the hurt in her dad's eyes before he retreats to the sofa and his bottle.
Sarah may be your prototypical caregiver child, wise beyond her years and good in the kitchen, but she is lonely and so very needy as she ends her sixth grade year with little to look forward to come summer save an extended visit to her grandparents' house in Houston (not). She is definitely not looking forward to seventh grade and the mandatory Family Tree project. How is she going to explain her family? She and her dad move around a lot thanks to her mother's notoriety. She's kind of hoping they will move before she has to face this project.
She gets a little lift when her language arts teacher asks the class to write letters to a literary character. Sarah chooses Atticus Finch and derives almost as much comfort writing to him as talking to her best friend, Plant, as in house plant. To Kill a Mockingbird is her favorite book and Atticus Finch is the perfect father.
Things also start looking up when her father decides that she can stay home and spend her days with Charlotte, their twenty-year-old neighbor who is home from college. She feels a kinship with Charlotte and confides some of her secrets only to feel dismayed when Charlotte shares them. Still, it was nice to have Charlotte to turn to when she started her period. And then there's Finn, Charlotte's word-loving nineteen-year-old brother. Seven years is not an insurmountable age difference, is it?
Just when I think I've had enough of quirky characters along comes Sarah to melt, break, and warm my heart. Sure the subject matter is dark, dark, dark. Oh my goodness, so much grief in this tiny family! She's basically an orphan as she is also fatherless, since her father copes with his own grief by drowning it in alcohol. This causes Sarah to have additional worries - about the alcoholism gene. Somehow, Karen Harrington manages not to overwhelm the reader in sadness. Sarah is a survivor. She instinctively created the family she needed. While events beyond her control have forced her to grow up too soon, she's also facing all the fears large and small that girls face as they leave girlhood behind - her changing body, best friend worries, her first crush.
Still, the novel is solidly middle grade. There is much that will resonate with tween readers. They will love Sarah. Indeed, all of the characters, major and minor, are memorable. As I read, I thought of my cadre of rising sixth graders who just love sad books. The sadder the better. They are going to pass this one around come September.
Sure Signs of Crazy has already garnered two starred reviews: from Kirkus(!) and Booklist. I haven't seen an SLJ review, but suffice it to say, were I reviewing it for SLJ, I would've given it a star.
Not much out there in the blogs that I follow. Visit the author's website here. There's a nice interview of the author here.
Quick note about the cover: I love it. I liked the cover on the arc (see below) but the final cover pops.
