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Warning: This post will not contain spoilers for Al Capone Shines My Shoes, but it may inadvertently reveal plot elements from its predecessor, Al Capone Does My Shirts. As always, I recommend reading the first book in the series first.

Favors from Al Capone don't come cheap. That's what 12-year-old Moose Flanagan is discovering. After the notorious gangster helps him out with a little problem, Moose discovers a note in his laundry: Your turn. He should have known the favor would come with a price tag, but how much will Capone demand? What will he ask, and what will happen if Moose can't come up with an answer? His friends urge him to tell the warden, but Moose can't risk getting his dad fired, not during the Depression, not when his paycheck's keeping his sister in a good school for "special" people like her. Really, what choice does he have?

Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko introduced readers to the kind-hearted Moose and his autistic older sister Natalie. Its sequel continues where the first book left off, taking us back to Alcatraz, circa 1935. The gang's still there - pesky Theresa; Jimmy, Moose's buddy who can't throw a baseball to save his life; Annie, who can; Piper, the warden's beautiful, conniving daughter; and Officer Darby, who thinks The Rock would be a lot better off without the Flanagans on it. With Natalie safely at the Esther P. Marinoff School in San Francisco, Moose can finally relax. Although he hates to admit it, it's nice having his parents to himself, and it's a relief not to have to drag Nat with him everywhere, constantly worrying about when she's going to throw her next fit. Now, he can spend his time thinking about the important things - baseball and Piper.

Then, comes the note from Capone. As worrisome as that is, the next note's even worse. Moose has to figure out how to meet the gangster's demands - failure to comply could mean bad, bad things for his family. The cons who fix his toilets, take out his trash and work in the warden's house seem overly chummy. Are they just being nice or are they Capone's spies? As if he doesn't have enough to worry about, Moose is also trying to keep his friends happy. "Blessed" with the niceness curse, he just can't help worrying about everybody - he doesn't understand Piper's surly moods (which are over-the-top, even for Piper); Jimmy's jealousy over a new friend; Annie's sudden attention; and Theresa's grudge against his intended. Moose's so stressed he's breaking out in hives. Then, he makes the most terrifying discovery of all, a secret that could mean Natalie's not safe at her new school. Things come to a head one terrifying night when Moose finds out - once again - that things are never quite what they seem on the mysterious island he calls home.

Although I didn't enjoy this book quite as much as the first, I still love this series. It's fresh and exciting, but also sensitive and moving. One blogger (I can't remember who - sorry) said she found these books disappointing at first because she thought they were going to be funny. While there are definitely lighthearted moments in the story, the books deal with serious topics and are more drama than comedy. This approach works very effectively, making Moose's adventures both amusing and touching. At its heart, the series is about a big-hearted boy who's devoted to playing baseball, helping his friends and, protecting his family - even when it means calling in a favor from the likes of Al Capone. It's also about dealing with autism, long before anyone really understood what it was. Mostly, it's about a kid doing the best he can to deal with life in his crazy, wonderful hometown - a place that just happens to be "an island with a billion birds, a ton of bird crap, a few dozen rifles, machine guns, and automatics, and 278 of America's worst criminals" (1). Home, sweet Alcatraz. If that's not enough to pull you in, consider yourself a lost cause. Or just read these books already.

Grade: B+

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for some violence

To the FTC, with love: Ahhh ... the library ... I love it so.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Confession #1: I'm not much of an animal lover.

Confession #2: I still loved Marley & Me.

John Grogan's memoir about life with "the world's worst dog," received all kinds of press. Critics called it heartwarming, funny, enjoyable. And yet, I didn't read it. I added it to my TBR mountain chain, considered checking it out of the library, even had it in my shopping basket at Borders once - but I couldn't quite convince myself to bring it home. "Why in the world not?" you ask. Confession #3: I don't enjoy reading about animals. I know, I might as well admit that I steal candy from small children (which I do, although only at Halloween), but it's true. I generally don't like fiction with animal narrators, animal main characters or overzealous pet owners. You could not pay me (well, maybe you could) to open a non-fiction animal book. It's not that I hate animals, I just don't love them. I feel about pet ownership the same way some people feel about children - it's fun to play with other people's "babies," but I'd never want one of my own. Lest you think I'm completely unfeeling, I'll have you know my family had several dogs growing up and I worked for a summer at a veternarian's clinic. So there. I do know what it feels like to love an animal. And, yes, my childhood was richer because of it. Still, our family remains dogless (because we're certainly not cat people), and that's perfectly fine with me.

Given my feelings on the matter, I didn't think Marley & Me would be my kind of book. So, I avoided it. Then, because I was looking for something light and funny, I picked up the DVD. Verdict? It was utterly charming, and not just because Owen Wilson makes me swoon. Sure, the movie ran a little long, but it was funny, sweet and tender. I reconsidered the book, but it wasn't until I received a request to review Grogan's second memoir that I finally read his first. It took me about a paragraph to realize it was exactly my kind of book. Marley & Me is heartwarming, it is funny, and it's definitely enjoyable. In fact, I loved every word.

Most people have either read the book or seen the movie by now, but just in case you haven't, here's the story: Newlyweds John and Jenny Grogan are enjoying the early days of their marriage when "life seems about as good as life can get" (2). Then, Jenny kills a houseplant. Not intentionally, but irrevocably. In her mind, that failure calls into question her ability to mother anything, especially the human being she's longing to grow in her womb. So, she turns to the classifieds. Weeks later, the couple brings home a rambunctious Labrador retriever. A bitter fight over the puppy's name ends when a favorite raggae song comes on the stereo - Marley seems to be a perfect fit.

With the exuberance of youth, Marley sets about getting settled in his new home. It's not long before the Grogans realize that the Lab they thought would be gentle, calm and obedient is ... well, not. He's happy, alright, stupidly, deliriously so. He's also "young and wired, with the attention span of algae and the volatility of nitroglycerine" (27). Books, pillows, shoes, doors, table legs - everything in the house bears the mark of Marley's enthusiasm. He's "a dog with more energy than sense" (219), who gets kicked out of obedience school, banished from the only dog-friendly beach in South Florida, and almost ruins his one-shot at stardom. Despite all this, the Grogans fall in love with the loopy canine. Says John:

As pathetic as it sounds, Marley had become my male-bonding soul mate, my near-constant companion, my friend. He was the undisciplined, recalcitrant, nonconformist, politically incorrect free spirit I had always wanted to be, had I been brave enough, and I took vicarious joy in his unbridled verve. No matter how complicated life became, he reminded me of its simple joys. No matter how many demands were placed on me, he never let me forget that willful disobedience is sometimes worth the price. (140)

Faithful Marley is there through all of the couples' ups and downs - through a miscarriage, the subsequent births of their children, job transfers, and the various successes and failures that define a marriage. As John helps Marley through the painful changes brought on by age, he's forced to confront his own mortality. Ruminating over his life-changing relationship with his psychotic dog, he comes to a surprising truth - Marley may be the world's worst dog, but he cannot imagine life without him.

In so many ways, Marley & Me is just a simple story about a man and his dog. So surface-simple is it, in fact, that Grogan hesitated to write about in his weekly newspaper column. The overwhelming response it generated convinced him that not only were people interested in his story, but also that they were deeply moved by it. It won't take you many pages to see why. Funny, heartwarming and yes, simple, Marley & Me's also touching in a way that surprised me. It made me laugh, it made my cry, it awakened the ghosts of my childhood pets. And, yes, it made me consider dog ownership - albeit briefly - for the first time in my adult life. Although I'm not making tracks to the animal shelter, I agree heartily with Grogan's final assessment: "A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours" (279). You better believe I did.

Grade: A

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for some language and sexual content

To the FTC, with love: Another freebie. Ya gotta love the library.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Ah, polygamy. Every Mormon's favorite subject. I can still remember the first time someone asked me if my dad had more than one wife - I responded with open-mouthed incredulity. Did people seriously believe my father had a couple extra wives stashed in the basement? Sadly, lots of (normally) sensible folks know little of Mormonism except that once upon a time some of its followers practiced polygamy. Forget the pioneers who trudged through inclement weather and life-threatening illness just to reach a place where they could practice their religion in peace; forget the countless hours of service modern church members render every day; forget the army of worthy missionaries that dedicate two years of their lives to serving the Lord; forget church doctrines that urge members to honor their parents, nurture their children and live clean, moral lives - forget all that. When it comes right down to it, all many people remember about the Mormons is polygamy.

I have to reiterate that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints have not practiced polygamy since 1890. Fringe groups have kept the practice alive, but not the mainstream church. You'd think after more than 100 years, people would get the idea through their heads. Apparently not. Thanks to kooks like Warren Jeffs, the issue stays in the news, spawning books, t.v. shows and, of course, lawsuits. All of this means that we Mormons get to answer all kinds of crazy, ignorant questions. So, how do today'sMormons respond to the whole polygamy thing? Variously, of course. Some view it as irrelevant (Yeah, it happened. So what?), others treat it with characteristic stoicism (Early member of the church practiced polygamy because they believed the Lord asked it of them. That many found it repulsive only shows how great was their faith.), still others find the whole issue amusing (What's wrong with plural marriage? I could sure use some "sister wives" to help me out around the house.). However we look at the polygamy question, I think we are just as curious as everyone else - I mean, really, how does plural marriage work exactly?

Well, if it's morbid curiosity that brings you to David Beagley's book, you're going to be sorely disappointed. One Lost Boy is no juicy tell-all. In fact, the slim memoir is less about polygamy and more about how one troubled boy gained a testimony of Jesus Christ. Beagley, now a college professor in his 60s, was born into what was once a traditional LDS home. His parents, Jesse and Althea, began their marriage as a typical church-going couple. Their oldest children (they had 12, of which David is the 10th) attended church, participated in Family Home Evening, and did all of the "normal" things Mormon kids do. By the time David appeared on the scene, however, the family's religious life had begun to unravel. Growing increasingly frustrated with the mainstream church, Jesse quit attending, an action that caused great tension with his wife and children. Even more distressing was his decision to lead a polygamist lifestyle. He found a friend's description of plural marriage alluring, so attractive that he wanted to follow suit. Although appalled by the idea, Althea acquiesced, wanting desperately to salvage her crumbling marriage.

Because polygamy went against the laws of both church and state, Jesse Beagley lived a secretive, fugitive life. He divided his time between his 5 wives, but never evenly. David rarely saw his father - when he did, Jesse couldn't even remember his name. Abandoned by his father, and shunned by neighbors who knew about Jesse's marriages and subsequent excommunication from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, David had only one person to turn to - his loving mother. Except that she insisted on keeping the family intact, which meant remaining loyal to her philandering husband and the teachings of the Mormon fundamentalist group with whom he had aligned himself. This meant spending summers in Colorado City (a notorious polygamist community on the Utah/Arizona border), avoiding the homes of non-believers, and keeping mum about all the skeletons in his family's closet. Having grown weary of it all, David fled to Arizona when he was 16. Once free, he began a quest to find God - to understand Him for himself. That journey led to experiences and miracles that would change his life forever.

One Lost Boy is an affecting story, simply told. Beagley's words lack poetry or perfection, but come through with the kind of faith and honesty that permeate the heart. While his life experiences are unbelievable in so many ways, the author demonstrates how each - no matter how distressing - became an important piece in the overall puzzle of his life. He gives thanks for his struggles, testifies that his pain made him stronger, and above all, acknowledges God's hand in his life. While this may not be the best book for non-LDS readers - simply because Beagley assumes his readers are familiar with the ins and outs of Mormon life - it will speak to anyone who's asked the big questions: Why does the Lord allow good people to suffer? Does God really know me? Does He even exist? If I'm striving to be the best Christian I can be, why does life keep beating me down? If He really cares about me, why does He allow bad things to happen to me? As David Beagley answers these questions for himself, he develops a powerful testimony of Jesus Christ. One that he shares with confidence and strength. It may not be the most eloquent avowal ever, but it's certainly effective.

Grade: B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for mature themes

To the FTC, with love: This one came from Cedar Fort, with a plea to evaluate it honestly. That's exactly what I did.