Tags » Farrar

Book review: The Trouble in Me, by Jack Gantos

Gantos, Jack. The Trouble in Me. Farrar, 2015. $17.99. 224p. 9780374379957. Ages 12-15. P9Q8

Gantos, known for his Rotten Ralph and Joey Pigza series, is at his best when he uses personal experiences for his novels, and this funny, scary book about 14-year-old Jack’s relationship with his new neighbor, a thug, is no different. 94 more words

Book Reviews

Welcome Back II!

Conversation this morning on the drive in to work… 266 more words

Wicca

Book review: The Parakeet Named Dreidel, by Isaac Bashevis Singer, illustrated by Suzanne Raphael Berkson

Singer, Isaac Bashevis. The Parakeet Named Dreidel. Illus. Suzanne Raphael Berkson. Farrar, 2015. $17.99 32p. 9780374300944. Ages 5-8. P8Q9

On the final night of Hanukkah, 10-year-old David is admiring the holiday’s candles reflected in the window of their Brooklyn home when a parakeet mysteriously appears on the other side of the glass. 129 more words

Book Reviews

Book review: Dare to Disappoint: Growing Up in Turkey, by Ozge Samanci

Samanci, Ozge. Dare to Disappoint: Growing Up in Turkey. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015. $16.99 200p. 9780374316983. Ages 14+. P8Q9

Turkish turbulent politics in the late 20th century combine with a search for a career in the author/illustrator’s graphic memoir of her childhood when her father believed her future lay only through hard work in a prestigious high school. 96 more words

Young Adult Books

Baptized with an Angel, Married to a Doctor

Yesterday we had a post about Engel Sophia Mangels who was born on April 24, 1881.  Today, the subject of the blog is Johanna Marie Eggers, who was born one day later and was baptized on the same day in the same place (Salem, Farrar) as Engel Mangels.  234 more words

The Birth of an Angel

Engel Sohpia Mangels was born on April 24, 1881 in Farrar, Missouri.  She was the daughter of Johann Peter and Engel (Mahnken) Mangels.  Both mother and daughter bore the name Engel, which in German means “angel”.  89 more words

The Heart by Maylis De Kerangal

“The thing about Simon Limbres’s heart, this human heart, is that, since the moment of his birth, when its rhythm accelerated, as did the other hearts around it, in celebration of the event, the thing is, that this heart, which made him jump, vomit, grow, dance lightly like a feather or weigh heavy as a stone, which made him dizzy with exhilaration and made him melt with love, which filtered, recorded, archived-the black box of a twenty-year-old body-the thing is that nobody really knows it; only a moving image created by ultrasound could echo its sound and shape, could make visible the joy that dilates it and the sadness that tightens it; only the paper trace of an electrocardiogram, set in motion at the very beginning, could draw the shape, describe the exertion, the quickening emotion, the prodigious energy needed to contract almost a hundred thousand times a day, to pump nearly ten pints of blood every minute, yes, only that graph could tell a story, by outlining the life of ebbs and flows, of gates and valves, a life of beats-for, while Simon Limbres’s heart, this human heart, is too much even for the machines, no one could claim to really know it, and that night, that starless and bone-splitting cold night on the estuary and in the Pays de Caux, as a lightless swell rolled all along the cliffs, as the continental shelf retreated, revealing its geological bands, there could be heard the regular rhythm of a resting organ, a muscle that was slowly recharging, a pulse of probably less than fifty beats per minute, and a cell-phone signal translated into the luminescent digits of the touchscreen-05:50-and suddenly everything raced out of control.”

357 more words
Book Reviews