(Image from Barnes & Noble)

As much as I love Christmastime, with all its beautiful carols, heartwarming holiday movies, and tales of forgiveness and hope, there's one thing I can't abide:  sap.  Okay, I can take a little.  Just not a lot.  I'm not saying I don't enjoy inspirational Christmas stories (I'm not that heartless!), but I don't like holiday novels (or any other kind) that try too hard to be touching.  Give me a subtle lesson, not a saccharine one, you know?  Because I'm sort of Scrooge-y like that, I gave Jason F. Wright's first Christmas novel, Christmas Jars, a scathing review, calling it "the kind of book that sacrifices good storytelling for sentimental sermonizing."  Harsh, but true.  

Although I vowed not to, I have read more of Wright's books over the years and I have to give the man credit—he's getting better.  His newest, The 13th Day of Christmas, shows how far he's come since Christmas Jars.  Is his latest a perfect novel?  Not by any means, but at least (some of) the characters have personality.  And, although it's thin, there is a plot.  Coincidence still plays a major role in the story, which is (alas) filled with sappy moments.  Still, I enjoyed the book much more than other novels of its type (like, say, Christmas Jars).  

The 13th Day of Christmas tells a riches-to-rags story about a family who's going through some hard times.  Financially, they're in trouble.  Emotionally, they're spent.  As a unit, they're struggling.  Looking for a chance to start over, the Alexanders move into a double wide at the 27 Homes trailer park in a town where no one knows them.  None of them are happy about their new situation, but 9-year-old Charlee decides to see what the neighborhood has to offer.  Her explorations lead her to Marva Ferguson, an 81-year-old widow who lives in a real house on the edge of the trailer park.  Charlee's drawn to the elderly woman, with her kind smile and gentle ways.  She's entranced by Marva's expansive apron collection as well as her charming Christmas house (which the widow begins decorating in October).  Marva loves Charlee's enthusiasm, her sweet innocence.  Before long, the two are inseparable.  

Then Charlee receives a shocking diagnosis (okay, it's cancer—it's always cancer in these kinds of stories).  Faced with not just the threat of a critical illness, but also with the bleak prospect of spending the Christmas season in the hospital, the girl's spirit sags.  Until, on December 12th, a mysterious gift appears.  An accompanying note promises Charlee more gifts and letters to celebrate the twelve days leading up to Christmas.  The child perks up as she tries to figure out who's sending the secret messages.  She'd suspect Marva, except the widow is having serious problems of her own ... 

So, yeah, the story's another exuberant-child-and-elderly-person-ease-each-other's-pain kind of thing, but at least it's got a little spunk.  The characters are likable, if not unique, and the whole 12 Days of Christmas thing is sort of fun.  It gets silly fast, but yeah ... once again, Wright is offering up one of his own family traditions and encouraging his readers to adopt it as their own.  Will it catch on like the Christmas Jars have? Only time will tell.  As far as the actual story goes, it was pretty much what I expected—predictable, sentimental, tearjerker-y, etc.  Once I looked past all that, though, I found The 13th Day of Christmas to be a quick, enjoyable read that really did help me get into the spirit of Christmas.  My verdict, then?  Holidays novels will never be my cup of cocoa, but in small amounts, I can tolerate them.  Maybe even enjoy them.  Who knew? 

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of other holiday novels like Christmas Jars by Jason F. Wright)

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for very mild sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of The 13th Day of Christmas from the generous folks at Shadow Mountain (a division of Deseret Book).  Thank you!

Another great thing about my Christmastime birthday is the traditions surrounding it.  I can't remember how old I had just turned (11, maybe?), but one year, my mom gave me a wonderful gift—she took me to see a professional production of The Nutcracker in Portland, Oregon.  I still remember how sophisticated I felt sitting in a plush theater seat, watching the ballet.  The magic of the performance just carried me away.  To commemorate the occasion, I was given my very first nutcracker (seen above).  My parents didn't have the money to take me to the ballet every year, but they did give me a nutcracker on all subsequent birthdays.  Still do, in fact.  And I carry on the tradition started by my mom by seeing The Nutcracker each December with my husband, my daughters, my sons, or whoever else will go with me.  It simply wouldn't feel like Christmas if I didn't—at the very least—place my collection of nutcrackers around my house.  They remind me of my childhood, my family, and all the happy memories I associate with both.  

Many people love The Nutcracker; now you know why I do, too :)

Considering my love for all things Nutcracker, I was thrilled when the folks at Crown Publishing Group offered me a new book on just this subject.  I knew it would be a perfect Christmas read for me.  And it was.  Sort of.  I had never thought much about where the story behind the ballet came from, but it was inspired by a "long short story" written by a German man named E.T.A. Hoffman in 1816.  A director of the Imperial Theater in St. Petersburg adapted the story (using a French version written by Alexandre Dumas) for the stage in 1891.  Tchaikovsky then wrote the famous score.  The result is a narrative that bears little resemblance to Hoffman's original tale.  The aim of this new book, then, is to give modern readers the real story, the authentic story, the story that Hoffman gifted to the world, never knowing that, one day, it would be the inspiration for a beloved ballet known as The Nutcracker. 

If you ever thought the story of little Clara receiving a nutcracker from her creepy godfather was a little, well, strange, you're going to think it doubly so after reading Hoffman's version.  Because, let's face it—the story's a bit odd.  Translated from the German by Ralph Manheim (now deceased) and illustrated by the late Maurice Sendak (who also designed costumes and sets for the Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of The Nutcracker), the story told in Nutcracker goes a little something like this:  Seven-year-old Marie Stahlbaum (her doll is the one named Clara) and her siblings receive Christmas gifts from their godfather, a celebrated clockmaker who crafts elaborate toys for them every year.  Because these creations are so fragile, they're locked away in a glass cabinet so that the children cannot break them.  So, while the children are amazed by this year's offering—a magnificent castle with figures that walk and dance—they quickly lose interest, knowing it to be another look-don't-touch kind of present.  Then, Marie notices another of Drosselmeier's gifts—a nutcracker.  She loves the "droll little man" the moment she sees him and vows to care for him always.  Unwilling to leave him, Marie settles near the toy cabinet instead of going to bed as she's been told to do.  As the clock strikes midnight, the girl begins to hear noises.  First, she hears shuffling, giggling and squeaking.  Mice pour into the room, squeezing through every hole in the woodwork.  A battle between the hideous rodents and an army of toy soldiers, led by Marie's nutcracker, ensues.  

When Marie wakes up the next morning, she's sure she dreamed the whole thing.  Then, Godfather Drosselmeier tells her a tale about a beautiful princess, a cursed prince and the mouse monster who vows to bring them down.  Now she knows the truth: the battle wasn't a dream.  Or was it?

I'll tell you the truth right off:  I wasn't as charmed by Hoffman's story as I wanted to be.  It's unique to be sure, but it also struck me as ... well ... weird.  The stage version makes more sense to me.  Still, Sendak's illustrations lend the original version a whimsical air, even when the tale turns dark, as if often does.  I don't see kids actually reading this one, as it's not just scary, but also confusing.  I do, however, think Sendak's artwork will fascinate them with its bright, dreamlike interpretations of the text.  

So, overall, what did I think of Nutcracker?  Meh.  Even though I enjoyed this behind-the-scenes look at the story, I think I'll stick with the stage version.  To me, it's less confusing and more entertaining.  'Cause, you know, nothing says Christmas better than a soldier slaughtering a bunch of mice in front of a little girl and then taking her on a trip through a magical Wonderland, all of which turns out to be nothing more than a magical dream.  Well, it does to me, anyway.     

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for violence and scary images

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Nutcracker from the generous folks at Crown Publishing Group.  Thank you!  

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

I know people love Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but I'll tell you the truth (unlike every other day, when I tell you LIES), I don't.  Like it?  Yes.  Love it?  Nope.  My response to the first book baffles my children, who think the whole series is the best thing since commercial-less cartoons (we love you, Netflix!).  Maybe it's because I'm an old fuddy-duddy, but I just wasn't that impressed with the book (in fact, here's my review).  Although my kids have read every story in the series—at least twice—I never got beyond the first installment.  Until my 10-year-old daughter came home from school one day in November, handed me The Third Wheel and said, "[School librarian's name] wants you to write a test for this book.  Tons of kids have been asking for it.  Including me."  Because I can't say no to my daughter, let alone "tons of kids," I got right on it.  And guess what?  Much to my surprise, I rather enjoyed The Third Wheel. 

The Third Wheel is the sixth book in the series (not including The Wimpy Kid Do-It-Yourself Book and The Wimpy Kid Movie Diary).  Usually, I wouldn't read Book Six without reading Two, Three, Four, and Five, but in a library emergency, sacrifices must be made.  So, I'm not sure how old Greg Heffley is in The Third Wheel or what grade he's currently suffering through (and where is Rodrick, by the way?  Military school?), but he hasn't changed a whole heck of a lot.  He's still trying to fit in at school, still dealing with his embarrassing best friend, and still picking on his kid brother, Manny.  New adventures await around the corner, however.  Soon, he's learning to cope (as only he can) with another round of student elections, having his deadbeat uncle as a permanent roommate, the scratchy school toilet paper, and finding a date to the school dance.  Becuase it's Greg Heffley, the mundane soon becomes the hilarious.

One of my beefs with the first book in the Wimpy series is that it has no real plot.  The various anecdotes made me laugh, but the fact that they didn't come together to create a connected story irritated me.  Since I knew what to expect coming into The Third Wheel, the plotlessness of the book didn't bother me.  I just enjoyed it for what it was—belly laughing, nose snorting, knee slapping fun.  Maybe these books aren't great literature, but they are quick and funny, perfect for handing to reluctant readers or anyone who could use a giggle.  I'm not ready to gush incessantly about this series the way my kids do and, yet, I'm starting to understand the allure.  Millions of kids can't be wrong.  Can they?

(Readalikes:  Other books in the Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney.  Also reminds me of the Dork Diaries series by Rachel Renèe Russell)

Grade:  B

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for some bathroom-type humor

To the FTC, with love:  I borrowed The Third Wheel from my kids' elementary school library as part of my volunteer work with the school's reading program.  

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

In shanties at the edge of Stung Meanchey, the largest municipal waste dump in Cambodia, lives a community of "pickers."  Every day, the people sift through Phnom Penh's garbage looking for anything of value, anything that can be sold to pay for their most basic of necessities.  It's a risky business; pickers are routinely crushed by bulldozers, pricked by dirty syringes, or robbed of their meager finds by gang members who patrol the area looking for easy targets.  Then, there's the ever-present stench, the rivers of polluted waters that stream through the place when it rains, and the trapped methane gas that creates always-burning fires.  Danger lurks in every corner of the monstrous junkyard.

As if there's not enough to worry about already at Stung Meanchey, 29-year-old Sang Ly has another problem—her only child is sick.  Sixteen-month-old Nisay suffers from constant diarrhea, a condition which leaves him both constantly dehydrated and perennially cranky.  Sang Ly has tried everything to help him, from experimenting with traditional cures to buying medicine from foreign doctors.  The pills help—until Sang Ly's supply runs out.  If only she and her husband, Ki Lim, could make enough money to buy enough medicine, then maybe Nisay would be cured.  But money's not an easy thing to come by in a place like Stung Meanchey.  Especially when The Cow, their demanding landlord, takes her fair share and more.

Sang Ly doesn't dare to dream of a life beyond the garbage dump where she's lived for so long, but when she's given a battered, yet still beautiful picture book, hope surges into her heart.  Hope for Nisay, for the future she might still be able to give him in spite of her bleak surroundings and meager resources.  Surely if the child can learn to read, he can leave Stung Meanchey's trash mountains behind.  He could go to school, find a good job and make a better life for himself.  But how to accomplish such a task when no one Sang Ly knows can read well enough to pick out the letters of their own names?

When the desperate mother discovers her landlord's shocking secret, she sees a miraculous solution to her problem.  If only Sang Ly can convince the hardhearted woman to help her.  The Cow has never helped anyone but herself, but stranger things have happened at Stung Meanchey and, with the life of her child hanging in the balance, Sang Ly knows she must do anything she can.  Even begging for aid from the most unlikely of sources.

Based on the experiences of a real Cambodian family, The Rent Collector by Camron Wright tells an incredible tale.  It's a story of survival, hope and a mother's refusal to give up on her child's present or future.  From its hard-to-stomach setting to its memorable characters to the powerful messages it imparts, The Rent Collector is touching without being sentimental.  Sure, Sang Ly's narrative voice sounds a little too American, but still, the book opened my eyes, moving me to tears—of gratitude, of appreciation, of empathy.  I read the novel at Thanksgiving time and nothing, perhaps, could have made me more grateful for the many advantages and blessings I've been given.  If you're feeling low this holiday season or if you just need a story that entertains and inspires, buy a copy of The Rent Collector today.  You'll enjoy the read and your purchase will help a Cambodian child in need (10% of the book's royalties will be donated to the Cambodian Children's Fund [CCF]).  Talk about a win-win.

I don't love book trailers, but this one offers a peek into a world that just boggles my mind:



This one, which was filmed by Camron Wright's son, shows more of the reality behind the fiction:


For more information, please visit the book's website as well as River of Victory.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't really think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:  B

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for mild language (no F-bombs), violence and a little bit of sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of The Rent Collector from the generous folks at Shadow Mountain.  Thank you!