Author: Loree Burns

Posted on

The Pinballs

THE PINBALLS
By Betsy Byars
HarperCollins, 1977

Category: Middle grade fiction

Like Judy Blume’s BLUBBER, THE PINBALLS left an impression on my childhood. I have been certain for a good many years now (twenty-five? more?) that this book was Important. Somewhere along the way, however, I forgot why. Was it the characters? The plot? The message? I wasn’t sure. Yesterday I decided to remember.

Harvey.

Thomas J.

Carlie.

How could I have forgotten them? The awful car accident that landed Harvey in a wheelchair and a foster home; the well-meaning and ancient Aunts Benson who cared for Thomas J. as best they were able; tough-as-a-nut Carlie and her bad attitude. How could I have forgotten? When these three misfits end up in the same foster home, Carlie likens them to pinballs being flung hither and yon without any say in the matter. But they find a way to be a family. And they realize they are not careening, out-of-control objects after all. They are human beings who make decisions every day about their own lives … mostly how to face it.

“…as long as we are trying, Thomas J, we are not pinballs.”

Oh, Carlie. I’ve missed you.

 

Posted on

Misty of Chincoteague

MISTY OF CHINCOTEAGUE
By Marguerite Henry
Illustrated by Wesley Dennis
Aladdin, 1991 (original copyright 1947)

Category: Middle grade fiction (for horse lovers!)

I was a horse girl. I never had a horse of my own, or had much opportunity even to ride a horse, but every cell of my young body longed to sit bareback on a racer, knot my hands in its mane, and fly. Sigh. Everett wasn’t exactly horse country, and we weren’t exactly horse folk. Luckily, there were books.

I read and re-read NATIONAL VELVET, THE BLACK STALLION, and absolutely anything by Marguerite Henry. One of my all time favorite horse stories was Henry’s 1948 Newbery Honor book MISTY OF CHINCOTEAGUE. As this is turning into a summer for revisting childhood classics (Thank you, Bruce Coville), I have just finished re-acquainting myself with Paul, Maureen, the Phantom and Misty.

Paul and Maureen are brother and sister. They live on a pony farm where they help their grandfather break colts for buyers and dream of raising a horse of their own. Phantom is the most elusive horse in the wild Assateague Island herd … and Misty is her colt. When Paul is allowed to participate in Pony Penning Day, the annual roundup of wild horses from Assateague, he sets out to catch his dream. But will he? And if he does, will he be able to keep it? This is a beautifully-told adventure story and I will love it forever.

I can’t wait to read MISTY OF CHINCOTEAGUE to my own kids. (It is top of the post-Harry Potter craziness list.) In the meanwhile, I am planning our trip to Virginia. That’s right … I am taking the family to Assateague Island to see the wild horses of my childhood dreams. I can hardly sit still with the thought.

 

Posted on

A Life In Books

The movie, not the blog. Well, okay, its not a movie. It’s a presentation. At the library. Tonight. And the life in question is … mine.

I’ll be speaking at the GALE FREE LIBRARY in Holden, Massachusetts tonight at 6:30pm. The presentation is for adults and I’ve been asked to talk about my path to publication. Which I will do by discussing the books that have shaped that path.

I’ll start at the beginning, of course, with BUS ROUTE TO BOSTON, by MaryAnn Cocca-Leffler, stop breifly in my elementary years (BLUBBER, by Judy Blume), my late adolesence (THE OUTSIDERS, by S.E. Hinton) and my young adulthood (THE PANDA’s THUMB, by Stephen Jay Gould) before moving to the good stuff: the writing years.

It should be fun. Come on by if you can.

 

Posted on

Wringer

WRINGER
By Jerry Spinelli
Joanna Cotler Books, 1997

Category: Middle-grade fiction

A couple years ago I forced myself to attend a Costume Ball at the New England SCBWI Conference. (I typically attend this conference alone, and schmoozing has never been my thing, so an event like this is pure torture for me!) Among the celebrities I met were Olivia (the feisty pig), Lilly (of purple plastic purse fame) and Minerva McGonagall (perhaps my favorite of Harry’s teacher). And there was this kid I didn’t recognize … he was dressed in what looked like a baseball uniform with the name Magee (or was it Maniac?) printed on the back.

I know, I know, you are all shocked. I can hear you through my computer screen: “You didn’t recognize MANIAC MAGEE? And you call yourself a fan of children’s literature?”

Trust me, I have been trying to make amends ever since. But it is hard to get a copy of MANIAC MAGEE at the library! It was out the first time I tried, so I read STARGIRL instead. (If you are an elementary or middle school student and a fan of STARGIRL, check this out.) And then I got distracted for a while (um, two years). I remembered MANIAC MAGEE this week and tried again to get it at the library. Still out! So I picked up WRINGER.

WRINGER is the story of Palmer, on the cusp of turning ten and dreading it. You see, where Palmer lives kids who turn ten become wringers. And wringers chase injured pigeons at the annual Family Fest pigeon shoot—a fundraiser that pits sharpshooting townspeople against thousands of captive pigeons—to put them out of their misery. By wringing their necks. Palmer knows he could never be a wringer. But how can he tell his Dad (a former pigeon shoot champion) or his so-called friends (wringer wannabes) or Nipper (his secret pet pigeon)? Spinelli weaves a complicated story of fitting in, standing out, giving up, and standing up. And he does it oh-so-very-well.

So, the good news is that I have now read a couple Jerry Spinelli titles (and liked them). The other good news is that if I ever see a kid with a pigeon on his head and a bruised left arm at a costume party, I will know who he is. The bad news? I still haven’t read MANIAC MAGEE!

 

Posted on

Summer!

Yesterday was the last day of school in my town, which means today is the official first day of summer vacation. My kids greeted this morning with mixed feelings, however. Yes, it was the first day of summer vacation. But it was also the first day of Mom’s Crazy Summer Work Plan. They are skeptical of Mom’s Crazy Summer Work Plan.

The Plan goes something like this: I get up at 5am and barricade myself in my office, the kids get up whenever they want and keep themselves occupied until 9am. Fighting and electronics are expressly forbidden. If the plan works properly, I will continue to get twenty hours of work time each week, the kids will either learn to sleep in (one can hope) or to practice their independence … and the four of us will still have entire days free for summertime fun.

I would call today a success, though I didn’t manage to get up until 5:30 and I knocked off a little early (it is the first day of summer vacation, man!). But I am happy to report that I got a good lot of work done, the kids are up and dressed and have fixed their own breakfast, and we are heading off to the library, and then to a friend’s house for some swimming, and then back home to make some headway on our re-reading of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince …

Hey, perhaps Mom isn’t so crazy after all?

 

Posted on

TRACKING TRASH on Bookslut and Chasing Ray

Happy Monday!

I woke up to a message from the lovely (I am just sure she is lovely) Colleen Mondor telling me that she had featured TRACKING TRASH in her Booslut article and on her Chasing Ray website. This was a pleasant way to start the week. I was particularly pleased to read Colleen’s challenge to her readers:

“GO READ THIS BOOK! Then work on using less plastic and saving the ocean. Get busy folks, make this your number one summer project!”

Using less plastic can be easy. It sounds snarky, but you just, well, use less plastic. Especially the single-use, disposable kind (plastic cutlery and plastic baggies, for example). But saving the ocean? How does one actually do that? If you have read TRACKING TRASH, then you know that one way is to get involved in The Ocean Conservancy‘s International Coastal Cleanup. These beach cleanups are held all over the country–all over the world, actually–every September.

What’s that? You don’t actually live near the ocean? No worries. You can still get involved. I’m hosting an ICC event near my home in landlocked central Massachusetts this fall. Our waterways are all connected, so cleaning up an inland pond is just as important as cleaning up a coastal beach.

Stay tuned … I’ll be posting lots more information on coastal cleanups in the coming months. For now, go check out some of Colleen’s many, many book reviews. I’m heading back over there myself …

Posted on

Worcester Area Journalists Rock!

I was featured in two articles in local newspapers this week …

The first appeared in The Landmark as a lead-in to my talk at the Gale Free Library in Holden, Massachusetts next Thursday night at 6:30pm.* If people show up I will have Alicia Bessette to thank!

The second ran in this morning’s Worcester Telegram & Gazette. I like how Jean Hill turned our conversation into words of wisdom for graduates; so fitting at this time of year.

* Come on by if you are in the area …

 

Posted on

Blubber

BLUBBER
By Judy Blume
Bradbury Press, 1974

Category: Middle grade fiction

Remember that exercise I did last week, when I spent a couple hours remembering my elementary school days? BLUBBER popped up in third grade and I have not been able to shake the image of that red cover in library cellophane since. So when I was at the library this week, I took a peek on the shelf … and there it was: the red cover, the blue daisy, the stamps, the paper clip on white lined paper, the cellophane. I took it home and read it for the first time in twenty-seven years.

Nothing was how I remembered it. I had forgotten how mean Jill and the other kids were to Linda, the girl they dubbed ‘Blubber’ after her oral report on whales. How could I forget that? Did they not seem as mean when I was younger? Was that sort of behavior so normal that I wasn’t outraged? Am I just old, old, old? (Don’t answer that…)

I had also forgotten that the tables turned, in the end, and that Jill was made to suffer in much the same way as Linda. Or had I? The themes of “what comes around goes around” and “doing unto others as you would have them do unto you” are such a part of my adult psyche. I believe them in my core. Did Judy Blume plant them in my subconscious when I was in the third grade?

PS. Author Tanya Lee Stone actually met Judy Blume. For breakfast. To talk about books and life. Can you imagine? Read this to learn more.

 

Posted on

Staying grounded

Yesterday was full of wonderful news and exciting phone calls and many, many kind emails. (Thank you all for those!) There have been many emotions–mostly of the elated and joyful variety–and I can’t seem to lose this smile.

Thankfully, I have my kids to keep my feet on the ground. When they arrived home from school yesterday I was finally able to let my excitement bubble over. I began shouting before the bus was out of sight, “TRACKING TRASH was given a Boston Globe-Horn Book honor award!” We shared high fives, talked about celebrating, and spent some time gazing at the award website.

“Clementine! Clementine is going to be at the award banquet?” This came from my youngest, who is five. She spotted our favorite cartwheeling redhead from across the room.

Me: “Um, no. But the woman who wrote CLEMENTINE—her name is Sara Pennypacker—she will probably be at the banquet to accept her award.”

Youngest: “Does she have kids?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Youngest: “Can we meet them?”

Me: “Um, I don’t know.”

Youngest sighs in frustration because her mother knows nothing.

Middling, pointing to the cover of ESCAPE!: “Will HE be there?”

Me: “Houdini? No, he’s dead. But Sid Fleischman, the man who wrote ESCAPE! should be there. He’s the one I told you about … the one who did magic tricks at my writing conference last month … remember?”

Middling: “Will he do magic tricks at the award banquet?”

Me, wondering: “I don’t know.”

Middling, after a moment of deep consideration: “Maybe you should learn some magic?”

Me, swallowing feelings of pure panic at the thought of an acceptance speech … and hoping my oldest will change the subject: “What about you, bud, any questions?”

Oldest: “Yep. What’s for dinner?”

So, there you go. Grounded. But very, very happy!