May Reviews:

I spent most of May skimming through many titles with hazy memories, so I didn't include a lot in my reviews, since after a while I would remember the books. I also added some new books I read, as I have before. Nevertheless, we have made it out of the tunnel and this will be the last comment. Finally!!

The Hatchling by Kathryn Lasky (2005) is the 7th installment in Guardians of Ga'Hoole. Nyroc is the son of an insane cult-leader narcissistic mother, master of gaslighting and brainwashing. He is our titular hatchling, so this seventh book actually makes an excellent first impression; I learn of the horrors of the Pure Ones at the very same time as Nyroc, possibly a unique experience to fans who read it in order. This creepy cult is full of extreme classism/racism, brainwashing, torture and demented rituals. The death here is violent af but meaningful, not shock value.
This is Warrior Cats but with owls. I've read a meager amount of WC, but the times I did, it was filled to the brim with unnecessary amounts of soap opera drama—why's a cat series intended for elementary grade kids full of this much soapiness/sexiness? So I never got into WC and I frown slightly at the folks in their 20s who reminisce fondly about it and don't remember what I'm talking about. WC is also set in the present with humans in the background—I don't think humans exist / they went extinct in GoG. Hilariously enough owls wield swords and martial claws to stab, impale and decapitate each other—they read and do maths, something the cats never did. They have the magic prophecies and haunting ghosts in common, though.

I'm hesitant to praise GoG for its utter lack of romance, because this book may be an outlier to the twenty others. A detracting factor is that the final 30 pages are dedicated to setting up the next book, and revisiting a previously established character, making me lose all interest because I don't have time to read twenty books for something I just like, not love. But before those thirty pages, and some confusing ten pages prior with a sooth spiderwebsaying Rabbit, we had a great thing going, slow pacing aside, and for me, makes a good standalone.

The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford (1961). Three animals follow their instincts west when their owners temporarily move to England, and they have exciting and perilous adventures across Canada without ever exchanging a word because #Realism. And I like it that way. Later their owners come back home, are devastated to see their two dogs and cat gone, but are eventually reunited. Kind of reminds me of a more thrilling yet companionable animal version of My Side of the Mountain.

Poppy's Return by AVI (2005) and illustrated very cutely by Brian Floca. Fifth of "The Poppy Stories" this follows the coming-of-age, mice-version, of Poppy's archetypal "nobody gets me" teenaged son and Poppy's own struggles with visiting the family she left behind to marry a breed of mice they don't approve of. The teenager dialogue here is censored for children, which makes it sound silly, and it also sounds that way if you convert it to what it's supposed to be—until you remember that edgelords do talk like that; it's just sad then. Overall it's endearing, but why is the author so confident that he's going by a mononym?

Oz, the Complete Collection by L. Frank Baum, Volumes 3 & 4. Together, these two compilations contain six books in the Oz series. Baum, much like Frankenstein, has a tendency to create monsters and feelings of dystopia and fear of humanity. I'm missing volumes 1 & 2, though I have read (and recently reread) the original Wonderful Wizard of Oz that was clearly intended to be a standalone until the bills came knocking at Baum's door.
We start with the seventh book, where a prologue informs us that Oz has been cut off entirely from the regular world (this is later fuddled; Baum clearly doesn't care much for continuity), but Dorothy, through the telegraph, has been able to relay stories to Baum. Through the internet, I learnt that this is the second time he "ended" the Oz series and never meant to continue them, but anything with "Oz" happened to sell leagues better than his other work, so back to Oz he miserably went.
In general, they get increasingly deranged, though they're not bad books by any means. The first book has its own type of Alice in Wonderland vibe, but it gets extremely formulaic and overdone in these six sequels. The first I praised for constant action and not a sentence wasted, the plot moving at the pace of a Shinkansen in few pages. Each sequel is longer than the original, and just as much happens—but it now feels sluggish because they are essentially rehashing "ooh this rAndOM event happens". It's not so much the same Wonderland vibe but simply stretching the pages to pay the bills. But they're still okay, and I'll be reviewing them individually because the last one (that I have, there are many of these) is a wild ride and I must do a write up on all of them.
Individual Reviews:

'Tis: a Memoir by Frank McCourt (1999), an Irish guy trying to find his footing as an immigrant to America. 1949-1950s. 'Tis decent, and there are some amusing stories here, but sex is on this guy's mind 90% of the time, his motivator and inspiration throughout his twenties and thirties, and not a single speech mark is seen for miles, except for one around a song title. The other song titles don't get this privilege.
This is akin to listening to an old man ramble about his life, and if you've ever heard that, you know the pros and cons of it. He has a master's degree in English but uses the wrong "there". I suppose it makes the book feel more personable and like an old man telling a story, but this gets to be a real drag sometimes—italics are also absent. It's like someone auto captioned him talking and no one edited it. But it's not like he's terrible or anything, he's just very much Your Average Guy and you get what you paid for (1950s NY and the Irishness); it's exactly what you'd expect from a guy who married three times, to a younger woman each time (the first which we get to see the failure marriage of), and that doesn't mean he's a bad fellow. But if you stereotype him from this info, you'll hit the mark.

Favorite Book of May Award: Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones.
Honorable mentions: Inkheart by Cornelia Funke and The Only Pirate at the Party memoir by Lindsey Stirling and Brooke S. Passey.

Most Offensive Book of May Award: None. No nominations, either. 

Will edit to complete reviews later, and the true final comment will be the award show.

April Reviews:

The light at the end of the tunnel! The room with the most unread books has been read, and there's not much I haven't already read left in the house elsewhere. 

The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales by Bruno Bettelheim (1976). My sister's review: "oh, it's how this guy thinks everything symbolizes a d*ck, and it scarred me for life and I'm certain none of the fairy tales symbolize what he thinks they do!" This is unfortunately an accurate review. Bettelheim views children as an alien species as if he was not a child before himself, and he makes up scenarios like he's telling stories on Reddit. Horse girls like horses because they're cool, not because the horse represents some sexual male thing they're "riding", gross. Kids play with toys for fun, not to fulfill their "need to give birth"—everybody knows this. And no, sir, I don't think third-graders believed the planets in their paper were the real deal and the WHOLE classroom crumpled when you asked them, "then what of the ones in the sky?". They are NINE. They know. They don't EXIST, because your entire source is that you made it up. The book tells me he worked with severely disturbed children, has tons of credentials and is a Freud fanboy, and the only thing I pick up from these psychology dissertations is the latter. I sometimes think Freud and Jung inflicted an irreparable amount of stupidity into the world. Bettelheim constantly spouts idiotic things with 100% confidence, but sadly he wouldn't be out of place today, with all them kids on their socials armchair diagnosing everyone and their uncles with fun quirks to serious disorders based on their flimsy sources of "well, I think so". I regret to inform you that I am holding back or I'd go on typing for five years. Think of it this way: whatever you're imagining, it's worse. 

A Gathering of Days; A New England Girl's Journal, 1830-32 by Joan W. Blos (1979) has few characters yet I kept forgetting everyone. I guess I'll keep it because it matches in a doesn't-actually-match-way with some other books of this fictional journal/historical girl genre I have.

The Story of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting (1920) I for unknown reasons have never read. It's ok. I'll keep it since it's famous, would like it if I was in the single digits—now, I'm embittered and I'm reminded of all the awful animal-lovers out there who are shameful misanthropes.

Clarice Bean Spells Trouble by Lauren Child (2004) reminds me of Clementine that I reviewed earlier. Clarice is a relatable character, and she thinks and talks like a real kid, like Clementine, unlike some outlandish stuff I've read where no kid acts sensible or like a child would. Lauren Child seems smart; the one thing she gets wrong is that Clarice and her friends act too young for eleven, and what they're learning skews several grades younger, too. I don't mind it, just sayin'.

Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism by Georgia Byng (2002). I struggle to recollect whether I've read this before—it's a huge struggle and I remain uncertain. This is cartoonish in an excellent way, as weird as it is for a book to feel like that. Also, ugly people representation! Molly is ugly and it's not just "oh no, she's insecure but amazingly beautiful omg", she is genuinely super conventionally ugly. Byng has a way with words that makes her silly plot work, though it does get too silly halfway through, but the prose is worth it. Hypnotism in this world is low-fantasy, yet layers upon layers of genjutsu, and scary. Byng makes it fascinating and you don't often see this type of orphan low-fantasy genjutsu for protagonists, they usually go straight to Harry Potter or one of Superman's abilities.

Poseidon's Steed: The Story of Seahorses, from Myth to Reality by Helen Scales (2009) I thought was a novel. I was wrong. This is a marine biologist's thesis in chapter format, and lacking in education for that.

Larklight by Philip Reeve (2006) is a sci-fi space opera with dashes of steampunk, which is cool, but not cool enough to interest me in the two sequels I don't own. The characters are at times painfully archetypal, but I like David Wyatt's illustrations and it's overall alright.

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson (2003) is not so short and more like "of Nearly Nothing". Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell is the vibe of this book. Goes over the stuff one learnt in elementary, but I'm not sure what the targeted demographic is. Everyone who feels like a refresher?

Rascal by Sterling North (1963) is published as a children's novel, but it's an autobiography of when North was 10 to 12, when he owned the eponymous pet raccoon. It's a bit stale at times, and at first I found it terribly so, but I rather liked it by the time I got to the last page.

Two Times the Fun by Beverly Clearly (2005) is clearly for toddlers, but I guess it's around for my Beverly Cleary collection. Had no idea she died in 2021. This was her last published book, and it's vignettes concerning two toddler twins for toddler readers.

A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck (2000) has a Newberry Medal, and is very Newberry. In 1938, teen Mary Alice gets sent to live in the country  ('cos The Great Depression). Her grandma/new guardian is a boss. Exceedingly simple prattling of life that is quite well-to-do in this era, it's okay; it ends with a time skip of returning to her grandma's house to get married to a boy whose relationship with her was not developed whatsoever and whom has the personality of a post.

The Trumpet and the Swan by E.B. White (1970) is indefatigably unhinged, not in a bad way. The first chapter leads us to believe that American Canada-fanboy and bird-whisperer Sam Beaver will be the protagonist, only to switch to swans, whose chatter feel lifeless / like a poor attempt at being silly. White did better with animals chattin' in Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little. This story is dry as DUST, which is amazing—the events that take place are demented:

The Firework-Maker's Daughter by Philip Pullman (1995), a man I've always considered immature and not-so-clever. This is fine, whatever, and set in an unknown location that is a weird mix of India, Southeast Asia and China. I dislike how it uses real place names, ruins the fantasy world.

Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo (2000) I ignored in younger years; the title doesn't evoke the same excitement and adventure DiCamillo's Tale of Despereaux and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane do, the former which I rather like and the latter which holds a very special place in my heart. Winn-Dixie just makes me think it's a generic feel-good All-American story with a dog in it. It is a generic feel-good All-American story with a dog in it. And tells you alcoholism is bad and there's a candy that tastes sad.

The White Giraffe by Lauren St John (2006). Martine's whole family dies in a fire and she gets over this surprisingly quickly, and becomes a witch when she moves to South Africa since she is The Chosen One. This white giraffe is a weirdo—idk if he's a ghost or not, because he vanishes and appears in cracks of lightning or on his own, but he got captured and needed to be saved.

The Time Bike by Jane Langton (2000)—we read a previous book by her called The Fledgling, and this set in the same universe but starring Eddy instead of annoying Georgie. Everyone here is one-dimensional, and I'm sorry to see that Georgie's very kind stepcousins turned out so shallow and dumb when they get the spotlight. It's as if this was written by someone else altogether, the whole feel of the story is different, feeling childish in comparison to The Fledgling, which was more pretentious.

The Mystery of the Cupboard by Lynne Reid Banks (1993) is another one of those random-on-sale-fifth-book-in-the-series-my-mom-bought or something to that effect. Doesn't affect the plot, though, as the protagonist explores the origins of his magic cupboard, which is basically the toy-miniature version of a Night at the Museum situation. The central figure (not protagonist) I found to be a terrible person, and I think the book should acknowledge that more.

Apple Is My Sign by Mary Riskind (1981) follows one term at a deaf boy's deaf school and some time back at home during break. Quite a nice book.

Paths to Adventure - a Beka Book by editors Laurel Hicks, Marion Hedquist, Shela Conrad & Debbie Beck (1996) is excerpts of kids' books or short stories. This is garbage. And the edition I have is as battered as the word "garbage" may evoke.

101 Ways to Boost Your Writing Skills by Linda Williams Aber (1996), the same gal that did the lame Barbie mystery pony book I dug out months previously. This did not boost my writing skills. But then again, I am clearly not the target audience, but even if I was, I don't think my writing skills would be boosted.

101 Ways to Boost Your Science Skills by Robert Hirschfeld (1998) did not boost my science skills, but....see above, I guess.

Horrible Science: Chemical Chaos by Nick Arnold (1997) I've probably read before. It's more fun than the educational books above, and also more educational. Mix of science facts and stories, designed in part like a comic.

Terra — Tales of the Earth: Four Events That Changed the World by Richard Hamblyn (2009) remarks on four different natural disasters, one of which I have never heard of whatsoever (European weather panics of 1783??) and lacks a Wikipedia page. Wikipedia is far more entertaining, and the Magic Tree House series (including the study journals) did a much better job accomplishing what this tried to.

The Witch Trade by Michael Molloy (2001) I love the physical design and aesthetic of. Main characters could be summed up as "kind protagonist"—they don't have any other traits, though the narrator insists they do. The antagonist is heinously forgettable, but also unintentionally the funniest character sometimes, but he's barely there. If Oceanhorn, a game, took notes from this, I'd be impressed and it'd be better. This book, though, is acceptable but wholly unimpressive.

What's Wrong With Timmy? by Maria Shriver (2001) is a picture book about a kid asking her mom what's wrong with a mentally disabled kid. Not very fun imo, who talks like how anyone talks in this irl?

Poems of Nature (1989) and Poems of Flowers (1991) edited by Gail Harvey compiles poems on the topics, accompanied with classy illustrations. Aesthetically pleasing. The poems may be famous, as I recognize the poets, but not the poetry itself (I'm no poetry buff).

A Birthday Remembrance (1978) edited by Kitty McDonald Clevenger & illustrated by George Kauffman is similar though more modern than the above poetry books. While those are in pristine condition and are excellent quality paper, my copy of this book is yellowed and the cover appears to be a prototype? There's only a plain lettering of the title, whereas when I googled this book, the lettering was different in the only image of it I found, and the cover had illustrated decorations. Hmm.

Utterly Crazy! Ripley's Believe it or Not (2011) I forgot to check who edited this together and couldn't find a name online, but it's just essentially news entries. Some of this stuff is very easy to believe, unimpressively so, others are on brand. I wouldn't call it what it claims to be, "a 384 page extravaganza" but it makes me question how bored you gotta be to start some of this stuff, and I want to advocate that everyone walks more carefully so they don't need to survive being impaled. Some of y'all on this earth...

The Merlin Mystery by Jonathan Gunson & Marten Coombe (1998) I distinctly remember owning, matter of fact, just never got around to reading. Turns out back in the day, the first to solve the puzzle and submit it would win £75,000, the cute wand on the cover and other similar themed trinkets. The 75k was donated, as out of 30,000 submissions NOT ONE SUCCEEDED. Merlin's baggiest Y-fronts, why not? Is it that hard??? WHAT!?

The solution has since been published and no one shall ever have the prize. Others have also since worked it out in their own in a "superhuman effort" (giving yourself a little too much credit, I think). I will do the s—zodiacs? Ew no. I'm not learning zodiacs for a puzzle.

Anyway, I did manage to solve some of it, then I looked it up, and it's true that it's extremely convoluted for no reason. I then read the solutions people made up, because it is unfortunately true that the official one goes out of its way to sound dumb, and yes, they did not think things through. It hinges on you interpreting art the same way the author does WAY too much, rather than it being a proper "puzzle". The story itself is about Merlin's messed up love life and is not relevant to the puzzle. The reader just steps in to cast the spell (puzzle's solution) to free him and his lover at the end. I guess it's canon they were forever screwed since all those beautiful trinkets and the money were never rewarded.

Favorite Book of April Award: Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism [possible reread] by Georgia Byng.
Honorable mentions: Clarice Bean Spells Trouble by Lauren Child, Apple Is My Sign by Mary Riskind, Larklight by Philip Reeve and The Witch Trade by Michael Molloy,

Most Offensive Book of April/The Entire Year Award: The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales by Bruno Bettelheim

• This possibly dethrones The Report Card by Andrew Clements, but until we reach the end of the year they will share the award together and I will decide again. Bettelheim's book is infinitely more offensive, but offensive is used here in relation to me, and my personal feelings; The Report Card was still very ANNOYING.

Cultural Crimes: The Merlin Mystery by Jonathan Gunson & Marten Coombe, for not giving the prizes to someone who deserved it or listing the trinkets on etsy for my purchase.

March Reviews:

Tired by my quest to filter out what does and what does not spark joy, I ended up getting distracted by rereading anything I unearthed that I couldn't remember perfectly. Out of 25 books, like 9 were rereads. F.

Airport by Arthur Hailey (1968). I recall reviewing Hailey's Hotel here at the start of some previous month, and his writing style is so predictable the thrill is nonexistent because I've read Hotel and you know exactly what's going to happen. Adults books nearly always shove boring folks having affairs in there somewhere, too. Worse than Hotel, some were likable there.

A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson (1885). 64 poems that don't get on my nerves.

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson (1883). I feel like rereading this. I went through the trouble of cleaning it. Anyway—MASTERPIECE. This isn't called a CLASSIC for fun, it's still pirate perfection to me. Unrelated, but Treasure Planet the Disney adaptation with aliens is genius, and I hate aliens/sci-fi, so I'm not saying this lightly.

Rewards and Fairies by Rudyard Kipling (1910). I feel like rereading this. I went through the trouble of cleaning it. I also can't remember most of it, and in true old-fashioned fairy fashion, it's chaotic neutral. Kipling's The Jungle Book is more famous for a reason.

Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling (1902). I feel like rereading this. I went through the trouble of cleaning it. I remember some of it. Kipling's The Jungle Book is more famous for a reason. (I prefer this to Reward and Fairies.)

Five Little Peppers and How They Grew by Margaret Sidney (1881) is something I didn't consider worth reading as a child. I assumed from the title and cover it was an inferior version of Little Women. "Inferior" is rude and not strictly true, but "Little Women but Poorer (For Real This Time!) and with Brothers" is accurate. Judging books by their covers works!

Heidi by Johanna Spyri (1881) is something I never finished reading all the way back whenever, because when an actual plot started happening instead of just descriptions of Swiss country life with goats ended I put it down. After, the book does go downhill and never recovers. Peter clearly has anger issues that make him become horrendously unlikable (no one is raising him to be fair, he doesn't get the love Heidi does), and he and his grandmother are weirdly possessive of Heidi. Like in The Secret Garden, the invalid magically learns how to walk.
Fun fact! This book may be Switzerland's most famous, having sold around 50 million copies, the same number as Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables, Lolita and Charlotte's Web. It's a "classic", and as I overall enjoyed it, I think it deserves that; but I have NEVER seen or heard of Heidi beyond it sitting on my bookshelf. In contrast, the titles I mentioned I often encounter to this day (in conversation, media or just a passing mention). Is this just a me thing?

The Water-Babies by Charles Kingsley (1863) I refused to read because its cover depicts two toddlers making out, and that disturbed me as one not much older than a toddler. The cover knew its business because this is, in fact, mildly disturbing. But mainly, satire or no satire, it's BORING, with pages upon pages of the author going on a tangent about arrant unnecessary nothingness, and coming off suffocatingly smug. He thinks he's the cleverest, funniest guy around. Without all his random digressions, the fairy tale part itself could've been told in fifty pages.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens (1838). Judge me, I've never read this beyond skimming it. But spoilers enhance the experience! And enhance they did, this is a fun book with excellent pacing except for some parts towards the end (and Oliver fades into a passive, pleasant object of a character). Idk if that's politically correct to say today, since the antagonist is called "The Jew"...though the preface includes some thoughts about it on this edition, and Dickens' defense that he thinks Jews are great despite writing "The Jew".

Bleak House by Charles Dickens (1853) is something I didn't know I owned, which is funny because because this book is ~900 pages fat, so I must be purblind, in both senses of the word. I can count on one hand, this included (I think..?), the times I've read present-tense in a respectable novel, but I'm still biased against it because I associate it with bad, teenaged writers. I have the same association with first-person—especially first-person present-tense—but I'm much more exposed to first-person past-tense, which is what the other half of the chapters are (third-person chapters are present-tense). Odd admixture.
Oliver Twist has the better entertainment, pacing, story, overall tone and action, but Bleak House, in spite of its name, has the droller dialogue.

The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit (1907) I never got my silly hands on as a young'un, unlike Nesbit's more famous The Railway Children or Five Children and It, both of which I liked, and the latter of which is similar to this. But I feel like Nesbit's narrating style gets tired and stale after just two of her novels, and this feels like a worse Five Children. It's an easy read, which is a sign of quality, but if all the children in The Enchanted Castle had gotten trampled to death at the end, I wouldn't have complained. Gerald is the only tolerable one.

Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy (1891) I know the plot of, which has put me off reading it. Now I go in, prepared for the worst and bracing for the most miserable experience. With all this preparation, it wasn't that bad, thanks be, but still...

I read both Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) & Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) by Mark Twain on a plane either to or back from Malaysia many, many years ago, and I was in a hurry so let's hurry a second time, because I don't think I absorbed the plot properly the first time. It's a refresher for some plot details, but it's as I remembered: kind of overrated. Likely because my brain being trained by the previous read, though, I got through Huck Finn's book a lot faster this time—back then I hated how the whole thing's in broken English.

The Red Pony by John Steinbeck (1937). I'm weirdly drawn to this title, but I thought, "ah I'll read Grapes of Wrath first": and I did, months ago, which disgusted me so badly I've been unable to return to John Steinbeck 'til now. Anyway, favorite by Steinbeck (out of the three I've read) by a landslide. The problems are extremely first world, but I care about everyone here way more and I feel like there's a message to be had. RIP Gabilan. </3

The Pearl by John Steinbeck (1947) is an equally unpretentious moniker as "The Red Pony", unlike "The Grapes of Wrath". However, it is just as pretentious as GoW, and like GoW, a lot less first worldy yet I couldn't care less. Rest in pis—! I mean, uh—"peace" to that dead baby lol.

John Steinbeck rant:

Lord of the Flies by William Golding (1954). I decided to give this a second chance now that I'm older, and it's as "meh" as before. The groupthink and the allegories have basis in reality, and I've mentioned previously I don't mind reading real stories on the topic—but I did a lil' research on the history of LotF. Golding wrote it due to thinking Coral Island was too unrealistic, which makes me realize that it isn't extreme to get it through people's thick skulls what groupthink problems are, and that Golding is the numbskull. Yes, yes, I see people dying from hazing/orientation on the news all the time, I can see where he got this from, but I was linked to a critic of LotF who mentioned Tongan castaway-kids who survived happily and healthily for 15 months; that does make LotF look ignorant and overtly edgy/downright unrealistic for no reason, now that I know I'm supposed to take these extremes as realism and not just as highlighting the flaws of human nature. Btw Golding dunks on Coral Island in LotF itself, hilariously. Gives me Philip Pullman VS Narnia vibes.

Animal Farm by George Orwell (1945) I picked up after Lord of the Flies to see whether or not I lose respect for the author in the same way/how I feel regarding it years later. This is the better parable—it uses the beast fable thing right/to its advantage, and is plainly more pleasant to read.

The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White (1938) I've also read before and its cover fell apart whilst I was arranging the shelves by genre—master bookbinder I am, I repaired it, but it compelled my weak will to reread it, for I recall enjoying it in days of yore. It's less good now :( and loses steam halfway through, but now I've changed to thinking it quite philosophical in a Winnie-the-Pooh way while being nothing like Pooh. I'm very bad at explaining. Anyhoo, good book.

The Tragedy of Antony & Cleopatra by William Shakespeare. We all know what this is, can't say I've ever read any version that isn't a summary, though. This kind's a script with annotations and notes, same as the review below. Eh. Shakespeare's Shakespeare.

Pericles, Prince of Tyre by William Shakespeare and possibly George Wilkins. I know this exists, but being very illiterate and non-Shakespearean, I know near naught of the plot itself. I could've gone on not knowing, but I don't mind knowing, either.

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot (1939). Yooo—didn't know I owned the poems that inspired Andrew Lloyd Webber's Cats! Very fascinating, and we always knew ALW was/is a weirdo, only weirdos would think of making this into a musical.

A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle (1962) I never cared for—the premise and synopsis was deeply uninteresting. I can now confirm that to me, it is deeply insufferable, childish, and ridiculously preachy. Why was this so popular?

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum (1900) I reread because someone's Dark Tower review inspired me to. No better reason, sorry. It's way more violent than I remembered, as it's so straightforward and non-dramatic that I didn't register it as a kid. And always constant action, not a single unnecessary sentence; this short story has more plot than most books twice its length. I never appreciated that.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (2007) I was sent a pdf of by a young friend doing a book report, which for some reason is shock-full of typos. I'm good at ignoring typos, but some parts without them feel somewhat clumsy regardless, so I guess I don't mesh with Hosseini's writing style. My friend lied to me, the ending isn't happy, at least not to me, but it is decent if not notable. I'll say that my favorite character is Jalil's driver and Niloufar (who we later learn died smh). Mariam is second.

Favorite Book of March Award: Treasure Island [reread] by Robert Louis Stevenson.
Honorable mentions/tied with: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, and Animal Farm [reread] by George Orwell.

Most Offensive Book of March Award: None. Nobody won.
Nominated for Offensive Book of the Month: The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley.

February Reviews:

A surprisingly good month, marred by some Newberry Nonsense and a contender for 2023's Most Offensive Book.

Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Disgusting Sneakers by Donald J. Sobol (1990) is a disgustingly eye-catching title. The book's back cover got me thinking the boy-protag had a talking encyclopedia that helped solved cases, à la Nier: Replicant, because it included "Encylopedia said": exciting! But no, the boy, Leroy, is nicknamed Encyclopedia because he's so smart. Idk what kids were like when this series started (1962, and the final one was published in 2013), but I somehow don't think anyone would be onboard nicknaming someone that as compliment. Leroy (no one calls him this) is so clever his town is crime-free, and the book is designed as a formulaic collection of mysteries for you to DIY-solve. I am of the opinion his town is just not very smart, because all the offenders leave or say the most damning inconsistencies so a fifth-grader, Leroy, can solve everything.
Each of these mysteries are so short, that this review is the same length as them.

The Report Card by Andrew Clements (2004) is r/thatHappened / "and everyone clapped" the book. The first 35 pages (of 170) explain through criminally boring situations how Nora is a GENIUS. Nora doesn't think she's "above" others, but this is doubtful, as the language of this book treats other kids as subhumans. And every five pages (not hyperbole), Nora literally laments what a genius she is. Yet she thinks making her grades tank abruptly is gonna be believable. Lol. Trigger Warning for Witnessing Rage Below:

Outernet: Time Out by Steve Barlow and Steve Skidmore (2002). Finally, we have something sensible like sci-fi instead of geniuses. This is the fourth book, though, and unlike the third Artemis Fowl book, I can't quite get into it. They drop us in the middle of chaos, and I can never force myself to focus enough to find out what's going on. It's funny, though.

The Watsons Go to Birmingham – 1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis (1995) is historical-fiction yet again, but not so far back. The Watsons have an awesome sense of humor, but it becomes a serious book in the final few pages when a church is bombed (Ku Klux Klan) and this naturally traumatizes our ten-year-old protagonist. But he powers through it before it ends, and I think this is a pretty great book. Didn't understand the joke about Mexican and Thai hairstyles, though.

The Fledgling by Jane Langton (1980). It's not bad, but it's so Newberry. The Newberry award/honor is like a warning sign to me now. I googled this to discover it's part of a series, the fourth one in it, and it shook me to the core; it reads like a standalone. A good thing, I guess...?

Yolonda's Genius by Carol Fenner (1995) is another Newberry book—but I like it! It also has a "genius protagonist", but Yolonda works hard for it and it's tongue-in-cheek about that; the "genius" is actually her beloved little brother, because she believes he's a musical genius. Yolonda is a very well-written character and a real cool fifth-grader (we've moved on from fourth-grade protagonists to fifth-grade ones now).

A review in poetry form <3 [Out of the Dust (1997)]:

The Shocking Adventures of Lightning Lucy by Jeremy Strong (2002), the My Dad's got an Alligator! guy. Three books slapped into one, concerning a flying, telekinetic and later pyrokinetic little girl Lucy, who also has superspeed. Like the alligator book, it could be fun for its target audience, but I got bored, man. Real bored.

My Summer Vacation Book by Stephanie Calmenson (1997). How did this end up here? It's such a random nobody's book, barely has results on google. OH—this is...an ACTIVITIES BOOK. And it's been filled out by some American 12-year-old in 2003-2004. Ashleigh Donnelly would now be around 30 years old, and for fun, I googled her; English-speaking countries truly enjoy recycling names. I found an endless plethora of Ashleigh Donnellys born in 1992 alone.

Clementine by Sara Pennypacker (2006) and illustrated by Marla Frazee (writer of The Boss Baby, which Dreamworks turned into a film you may have heard of). Clementine is a third-grader like Lucy (we are reversing from the fifth grade evolution), but the writing sometimes reminds me of me. With the Capital Letters to Make a Point Style, and I think it's a considerably funny tale.

The Berenstain Bears Accept No Substitutes by Stan & Jan Berenstain (1993) is your average uninteresting kids' book with dumb lessons, but I don't see anything wrong with it. Sure, being named "Brother" or "Sister" could be a crime, but I googled it to find that there're folks who feel very strongly about it. It's a much huger franchise than I realized, but the Wikipedia gave me a good chuckle:

Maybe it's just that the installment I have is a more tame one or something, who knows? Didn't seem particularly smug to me, nor more infuriating than the average somewhat silly kids' book.

Rules by Cynthia Lord (2006) feels personal to the author, which is a compliment. Again, I googled it (Google thinks I'm a bot), and the protagonist is based on both Lord herself and her daughter. The protagonist's younger brother is based on Lord's son: both are autistic, which is what this is about (along with a friend who doesn't have a developmental disorder, but physically cannot speak). It's a heartwarming story. It's also kind of uncomfortable because while it is a massive spectrum, I see myself in the brother sometimes.

Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome (1930) is the first in a series for once. Four children (one named "Titty"...) in 1929 take roleplaying immensely seriously, and their mother lets them sail off to fulfill their stories (with frequent visits from mom and neighbors). For such a mundane concept, it's actually kinda original? But the name "Titty" is unfortunately jarring, and today people would be outraged at the Native American slur that casually jumpscares you once and the kids' idea of playing pretend (calling outsiders in their game "natives" and making up all sorts of stereotypical backgrounds for them). I personally think it's harmless and a product of its time, but who am I to say. 

A Walk in Wolf Wood: A Tale of Fantasy and Magic by Mary Stewart (1980). With that subtitle, you know what this is. It's a sensible fairytale for kids, where brother and sister travel back in time in Germany to clear a werewolf's name. This is my kind of book—written for children, but without the dumbed down language that started being used in the 1980s for kids. The eerie part is that I've never read this, but long ago, somehow wrote a tale with a similar premise, and our two protagonists have the exact same names.

The Glass Harmonica by Louise Marley (2000) retells Benjamin Franklin's invention of the eponymous instrument, adding in an Irish orphan, Eilish, and historical figures make cameos (such as the Mozarts). The book goes back and forth between the 1760s and 2018, where the protagonist is child prodigy Erin, now 23. I try to get through Erin's chapters as quickly as possible, because she acts 18 and her relationship with her disabled twin brother resembles either a mother-son, father-daughter or girlfriend-boyfriend one. Maybe I just don't get it because I don't have a disabled twin brother. Louise Marley probably doesn't either, though. Marley's also obsessed with making sure we always know when Erin has no underwear on, and commenting on various girls' "small breasts", including when Erin's brother remarks on Erin's.
Marley predicts 2018 60% accurately, but the 40% is so astoundingly off, that I think Erin's adolescent nature at 23 may be based on Marley herself.

Mystic Warriors by Rosanne Bittner (2001). The third in the "Mystic" series, and more real people getting fictionalized. I know basic history–I know the natives didn't deserve any of that, but this goes about it in a weird way. I've read books with this premise before that didn't have me raising eyebrows the entire time, so I don't think I'm the problem. A TON of time is spent on how hot and sexy (and horny) the Lakota/main characters just are (it's oh-so-spiritual and sexy!), in a classic case of "beautiful = good, ugly = bad". Why are you bringing up how honorable and different it is when a Native American man rapes a white woman as opposed to vice versa? Why is every single native a sadist without nuance or cultural explanation?
Rightfully enough, the main characters do come across as the good guys, because obvious reasons. But Rosanne Bittner comes across as someone who just romanticizes this period of time/struggle (1860s), and as someone who appropriates instead of appreciates the culture.

Side note: this is nitpicky, but I'd prefer if, like some random words, names were romanized instead of translated, and a footnote translates that it means "She Who Sings", "Crazy Horse","Sitting Bull", "Buffalo Dreamer", etc. It does make sense it's like this since it's written in English so I can read it (they're not speaking English in-universe), but if you're gonna throw other words around and bother to explain those, you smell like one of those people who choose the literal translation not for convenience, but because you think how they actually sound is "too weird/ugly" and "not cool enough".

The Rise of Rome — Plutarch and translators, dunno what year I should put for that. A revision of Plutarch's Parallel Lives, his biographies of famous men and philosophically comparing them in his philosopher ways. Essentially 800 or so pages of historical articles and notes.

The Vision of Piers Plowman by William Langland (written c. 1370–86?), considered one of the greatest works for Medieval English times apparently. Being Old English and Latin, this is sometimes laughably easy to make sense of, and sometimes impossibly hard; these un-rhymed poemy things in Old English are a headache. But it's interesting for that too.
...Passus 11 and Passus 20 were sorta lost on me because my Old English skills were not competent.

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach (early 13th century: this edition trans. Helen M. Mustard & Charles E. Passage in 1961). It's cool to think Wolfram was some knight fellow who also told stories and may or may not have been illiterate (they keep contesting this in the footnotes). I could totally believe he was, because he repeatedly spirals off in digressions in a talk-storytelling way and it's slightly confusing and all over the place constantly. It's fun sometimes, saved by the fact that it's an Arthurian adventure with swords and magic and stuff.

Favorite Book of February Award: A Walk in Wolf Wood: A Tale of Fantasy and Magic by Mary Stewart.
Honorable mentions/tied with: Rules by Cynthia Lord, Yolonda's Genius by Carol Fenner, and The Watsons Go to Birmingham – 1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis.

Most Offensive Book of February/The Entire Year Award: The Report Card by Andrew Clements.

January Reviews:

Xin Nian Kuai Le (Idk how to spell), January was not a good month for the books I found!

Double Fudge by Judy Blume (2002) is part of the series starring nine—oh! Twelve year-old Peter and his younger brother Fudge, whose antics are awing to read about, like imagine being that much of an insane brat. I read the first one and the spin-off as a kid, but this book must've passed me by somehow. It's fun to see how Fudge and Peter have changed/not changed, as well as the callbacks to the first book that I still remember perfectly years later. But Tales of Fourth Grade Nothing was published in 1972, and Peter was nine then; Harry Potter bookS (plural!) are mentioned in Double Fudge, meaning it is AT LEAST 1998 in this installment, yet Peter and Fudge have aged only three years. Anachronism is a weird choice.
Side-note: I've just remembered I actually know three books with 'fourth grade' in the title.

The Little Balloonist by Linda Donn (2006) is the first (ew) romance here, but it's also historical-fiction starring Sophie Blanchard, the first professional female balloonist. Most of history is twisted (fact is separated from fiction at the end, explaining how this is 90% fake), such as Napoleon being in love with Sophie and the love interest isn't even a real guy—but for all this fabulating, it reads as a stiff biography focused on dates, while missing most of historical accuracy. The romance is also just not very romantic? And in the background? Idk, maybe all romance books are this stiff, I'm just unfamiliar.

Hold Tight the Thread by Jane Kirkpatrick (2004) is speculative fiction based on the later life of Marie Ioway Dorion—an Ioway-Indian woman and wife of an interpreter based in St. Louis by the time of this book, the third one in a trilogy. As the finale, it's 1840s Oregon, and it covers her whole big family from her mid-50s to death in a span of nine years over 400 pages. It's more grounded in reality than The Little Balloonist but flows much better as a story, as we go from date to date of when each person was born, baptized and died (and with disease running rampant, someone was dying every page for the last 100 pages). At the back there's 20 or so pages worth of annotations, sources and the author just rambling over what was definitely real and what was definitely not, and what inspired her for "what probably happened" to "what MIGHT've happened?" that I greatly appreciate. I love that stuff. Before Pioneer Girl came out, I spent hours on the internet learning how most of the Little House series was fictionalized, so it's nice to have it right there for this one, or know how much was real. 

As Old as Time by Liz Braswell (2016) is a book my uncle bought for me; every time I visit, he'll insist on buying me a book. Not wanting to offend this charitable man and being a freeloader, I picked this one because I loved Beauty and the Beast as a kid. It's Disney fanfiction aimed at teens/older yet the prose reminds me of something a teen or younger would write. Belle is too much of a YA Female Protagonist (TM), and so is her mom; Braswell knows only one way to write "strong women", but maybe it's intentional since Twisted Tales is like Marvel's What if? series. Over 470 pages of overly simple language mixed with the occasional SAT word that stick out like a sore thumb, this drags for the first 150 pages, but the worldbuilding is nice, and Braswell is obsessed with tying up loopholes from the original movie much like myself, so I get along with this book at the end of the day.
This series is, to be blunt, rather dumb; as am I, so if I chance upon more "What If" Disney princess books, I'll probably read them because I have bad taste.

The Case of the Back-to-School Burglar by Nancy Star (2006). Yet another kiddie-mystery to throw away. I didn't write a review within a few days of reading like usual, and I have completely forgotten everything about this. Not a memorable thing.

Washington City is Burning by Harriet Gillem Robinet (1996) is more historical fiction—12 year-old Virginia is a slave who assists with freeing slaves by being the carriage driver (since it's unlikely anyone suspects a 12 year-old is up to much) during the War of 1812, and she "works" at the White House during the day. It's surprisingly lighthearted.

Strike the Harp! American Christmas Stories by Owen Parry (2004) is what it says on the tin: ho ho ho! I should've found this in December to be on theme! Ho h—eh? What's this? Awfully bleak and grownup collection of stories concerning Christmas? Huh. Well, the different time periods are nice...ish.

Shen of the Sea: Chinese Stories for Children by Arthur Bowie Chrisman is short stories with Chinese characters and some Chinese-themed stuff, but Chrisman really missed out on a lot of cool Chinese folklore he could've included instead of his boring tales.

Feathers by Jacqueline Woodson (2007) is set in the 1970s; a white boy begins school in a black neighborhood, becoming outcasted. He isn't the protagonist, a girl with a deaf brother is, and a recurring issue is how the brother is apparently super hot so girls like him until they realize he's deaf. The only white kid at school is nicknamed Jesus Boy and insists he is black because his adoptive parents are. Understandable, but yeah. Plain story with a good message.

PeeWee & Plush by Johanna Hurwitz (2002) is about the only guinea pig in Central Park, until Plush arrives. PeeWee is obsessed with the idea of tying down Plush so they can start a family, and gets frustrated when she wants to listen to classical music instead of having kids, which is kind of a weird concept to put in a children's book imo. 

Judy Moody Saves the World! by Megan McDonald (2002). Never liked Judy then, and still don't now—and unsure if I've read this one before. Judy Moodily does her thing, this time by being an aggressive Vegan Type person, if ya know what I mean. Laughed when her brother won the contest instead of her, though.

Isabel: Jewel of Castilla, Spain 1466 (The Royal Diaries) by Carolyn Meyer (2000) ends when Isabel becomes Isabel I (and when it'd get harder to sanitize how cruel and intolerant she was). But those gilded edges are enough reason to keep it. I LOVE books with gilded edges.

Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson (1980) made me confused because there's no Jacob in it—the Bible quote is spelled out for me, as the author anticipated uncultured swines like myself to read this. There doesn't seem to be rivalry anywhere, Louise is just sinfully jealous the whole time and this NEVER gets resolved. She even fantasizes about killing her sister, just because she's the more pampered twin! And my soul collapsed when the 14 year-old Louise fell in love with a SEVENTY year-old, and developed a hand fetish for some pages. Wth. Depressing and dull, and not a likable soul to be seen for miles, the protagonist is just a sad incel until she finally marries a widow. The reviews lied to me, this did not move me whatsoever, unless moving to ditch this book as quickly as possible counts.

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (1908) I'm not so sure I've read before. I MUST have..yet why does my memory fail me??

The Happy Prince and Other Stories by Oscar Wilde (1888) I have DEFINITELY read. I remember every story flawlessly, and I have an illustrated version, but where? I'll have to hang onto this until I find it.

Kneeknock Rise by Natalie Babbitt (1971), the author of Tuck Everlasting. It's definitely targeted at really young kids, and fine for what it is, if a little affected because of it sometimes.

The Moon Over High Street by Natalie Babbitt (2012), the author of Tuck Everlasting. Did I already say that? Well, this book has it on the first page, lest I forget! Out of the three Babbit Books I know, this is my favorite, though it contains zero magic. Unusual for me. An old Polish immigrant looks to mould a random visiting orphan in town into his heir/future CEO of his company, and the twelve year-old must choose between money and what he really wants to do, be an astronomer. He's so interesting to the old man because his Polish surname, and the fact that he has only two living relatives, a grandma and an aunt/cousin. Aunt Myra badly wants to adopt him and loves him so much, I feel like a very bad aunt-cousin after reading this, because I cannot imagine feeling this way in even the slightest.

The Golden Ring: A Touching Christmas Story by John Snyder (1999) is an embellished tale meant to immortalize the memories of Snyder's grandma. Perhaps that's what made it monotonous, but it's sweet he wrote it for his grandma. This is more what I expect from a book with "Christmas" on it—Jesus is mentioned every two pages.

Shipwreck by Gordon Korman (2000) is the first in a trilogy, and I don't like it enough to seek the others. Six problematic kids are sent to camp on a boat. They accidentally kill the captain, remaining adult deserts them to die, accidentally kill two kids in an explosion, drift to an island while stranded at sea for a week, and when they get there they're so starved and tired they all hallucinate how they even found land so who knows. And one of them goes insane and I think he's dead, but I'm not super sure. The end.

Fudge-a-Mania by Judy Blume (1990) reveals itself from a dusty hidden land like Double Fudge earlier this year, to tell me, "hey, you've had this the whole time lol". Feeling slightly foolish aside, it makes for the perfect bookend that we begin and end January with our manic little brother Fudge. That's all there is to this book. But now I won't be surprised if I find Superfudge somewhere in my house at this point.

Favorite Book of January Award: As Old as Time by Liz Braswell.

Most Offensive Book of January Award: Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson.

December Reviews:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to me! The books were less dusty and I died from allergies a lot less this time! Perhaps I'm evolving.

Hotel by Arthur Hailey (1965). This drags on as we go over murder, theft, rape, blackmailing and debt. Even some romance. An idealistic ending is paired with increasing my fear of old elevators. It's not my taste.

Merry Mr Meddle by Enid Blyton (1954). I couldn't finish this rail thin book. A collection of vignettes of the eponymous Meddle meddling and failing despite his best efforts, intended to be humorous for tiny kids. I found it very sad and dull. Nearly burst into tears.

A Shawl and a Violin by Randall L. Hall (1997). Intended for young Christians in Utah to learn how their ancestors moved to the US in the 1840s. The heavy-handed prose meant for young readers locks it into being unenjoyable if you aren't in that demographic.

Fourth Grade Rats by Jerry Spinelli (1991). If I had nickel for every book with 4th grade in the title, I'd have two–which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice. This one is better, but not worth anyone's time once they're out of 4th grade. The first world problems of peer pressure, toxic masculinity and the fear of growing old are more understandable, and this story is home to quotes such as, "You want to be a man, don't you? Well, you can't be a man without being a rat first." or "But I loved my lunchbox. It was like a brother to me."

My Dad's got an Alligator! by Jeremy Strong (1994). I'm going through a shelf with nothing but children's books. When will it end? There's nothing noteworthy about this one, though I'm sure a child may like it.

The Mystery of the Missing Stallion (Barbie Mystery Files #4) by Linda Aber (2002) is NOT that one Barbie book I really like that's lost somewhere in my house. It does, however, contain my sister's handwriting cracking down on the activities at the end from days of long gone past. This makes up for how insanely lame the book is slightly.

Three Cam Jansen Mysteries by David A. Adler (1980s). I've read one of these before and it's fine, but I preferred my other kiddie-mysteries to these, and so they don't hold any sentimental value for me. They are all exactly 58 pages long, have illustrations every other page and focus on a girl with literally photographic memory who obnoxiously says "Click!" a lot (but is otherwise a nice little girl). Eh.

My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannet (1948). This book has a cool title and somewhat eerie illustrations. What happened in the 1980s that made children's writers dumb down their language so much? Everything before is sensible. Such as this fine story.

Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren (1945) a classic I've never read for some reason (the cover is unappealing to be fair), and masterfully translated from Swedish by Florence Lamborn. Truly, she is a skilled translator, and that impresses me more than the story itself.

Miss Hickory by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey (1946). A quaint little story about a living doll with a hickory nut for a head, living life among animals after the girl who owns her moves away for the winter. It ends with decapitation.

The Bobbsey Twins of Lakeport by Laura Lee Hope (1904) is yet another mystery book, and reminds me of The Boxcar Children as its cast consists of 4 siblings (two pairs of twins) and it has similar stakes. I dunno about later books in the series, but some of the Boxcar books had higher stakes, and I prefer the dynamic of the Boxcar Children. Bobbsey is an ugly name, too.

Non Campus Mentis: World History According to College Students compiled by Professor Anders Henriksson (2001) is allegedly real essays college students wrote for Shepherd College, West Virginia. The chairman of the history department, Henriksson, was so amused by the stupidity that he compiled them into a comedy collection of historical inaccuracies while masking it as concern for how stupid kids are. These are excerpts from the 1970s, and while there are humorous parts, the excessive malapropisms are hard to believe....are you trying to convince me that 18-22 year-olds who spoke English as their first language were really that bad at spelling/hearing? Doubt.

The Year My Parents Ruined My Life by Martha Freeman (1997) is an unexciting story with an annoying protagonist. I, too, would be unreasonably annoying if I was forced to move at 12, but I wouldn't have the gall to act the way she did. But it does end in an "all's well that ends well" fashion at least, but this is a poor book.

The View from Saturday by E.L. Koningsburg (1996) is a book that badly wants to be deep and has a Newberry Medal for the effort. 6th graders are terrific at Trivia and win the championship, despite there being no indicator for that being their passion in their own, separate chapters, and the teacher has a personality-less weird personality that is totally lost on me. The main message is the power of friendship, but the simplicity of whatever other message is meant to be there is confusing and I didn't get it. I appreciate that the language isn't dumbed down, but otherwise this is a very nothing-plot.

More Tales from the Classroom at the End of the Hall by Douglas Evans (2006) is highly reputed and respected by my sister, who deemed it "AN AMAZING BOOK, in an entirely different LEAGUE than all these other books, how dare you try to throw this away!?" Personally, it seems like a generic cautionary tale for kids and I really dislike the open-ended (lack of) worldbuilding, and whether or not there's some eldritch horror at work in this school. They need to elaborate on that.

Pippi in the South Seas by Astrid Lindgren (1948), this time translated by someone else. I don't know if he's to blame with this edition we have, but I tire of Pippi—I was already getting bored of her in the first book, and this sequel offers nothing new and is puerile without the charm that comes with this genre.

Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli (2000) is a book I've avoided due to it featuring a manic pixie dream girl whose insanity is because she's homeschooled.  She celebrates individuality and is intended as a positive character, and the main message of this book is nonconformity—but it must not do a very good job of conveying it because I find myself agreeing with the high school bullies a lot. Stargirl's quirks are hardly cute; she sobs dramatically at a total stranger's funeral (causing grief to and angering the daughter of the dead man), harasses students with Happy Birthday songs after they specifically requested her not to and secretly takes photos of acquaintances for YEARS. One of her past times is following a stranger around for fifteen minutes, and this is somehow encouraged.  The book presents all this as Awesome Things to Do, saying we all need to be open minded or something asinine like that. And while you're supposed to fall in love with Stargirl in the way that the narrator does, I find myself on the conformists' side and despise the doltish idiot, whose weirdness is explained as a homeschooling side effect. Of course.
Literally in all my years of living I have only seen one work that portrays a homeschooled kid as sane. I can't believe how much better the messages of Fourth Grade Rats by the same author is, in spite of the much sillier premise, and this novel incites nothing but rage in me.

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell (1960) is based on Juana Maria. Here, her name is Karana, and she jumps off the ship moving her people elsewhere to join her brother, who was left behind. The brother is killed by wild dogs, and Karana spends decades with only animals for friends, as the ship never comes back. In the end, a different ship takes her to civilization. The bulk of it is her survival on the island. When I'm very neutral on a book I always just end up summarizing it.

Replay by Sharon Creech (2005) tells of a family that is extremely Italian(-American) and stars the middle son of it, Leonardo, who dreams of being an actor. It reminds me of others with a similar concept, and nothing makes it stand out from those. The writing's clunky and the jokes always miss, but it's not awful....I guess.

My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George (1959) follows Sam Gribley, a 12 year old who lives for a year in the wilds of the mountain and has no personality beyond having his survival and strength stats maxed out by God (but it's supposed to be realistic). He moved there because he hates the city, and while he has the depth of paper, it's relaxing in a way to just read about him surviving in the mountains and nothing else. One event after the other, the novel ends freakishly abruptly with Sam gaining a spoiled brat personality meant to portray independence when his family moves to join him, and the last two sentences of the book are, "That's how it is until you're eighteen, Sam," she [his mom] said. And that ended it. 
That was sudden.

Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code by Eoin Colfer (2003) has the kind of faulty worldbuilding where I can't decide whether it's just not MY thing (since it has several fans and I can see why), or if there truly is "faultiness" here; I'm to blame because this is the third book in the series, and all the callbacks mean nothing to me. In spite of this, my sister liked this book a lot, but not enough to read the whole series. It IS well-written, humorous and clever, and Artemis Fowl was a big thing in its heyday for plenty of reason.
Here, Artemis is already in his redemption arc, so he can be more Mary-Sue-ish than not. Since Colfer is a better writer than many, it's not terrible to read about, though at least 20 pages are dedicated to praising the main cast's #Awesomeness (and I always thought this kind of style would be more enjoyable on screen for the flashiness).
It's a great adventure that I think would be released to utter failure today: an edgy, genius 13 year-old protagonist who is stunningly arrogant was refreshing then, but in the 2000s, we simultaneously received thousands of Artemis Fowls/edgelords. The concept is something the average 13 year-old himself comes up with, though obviously it wouldn't be executed as well as Colfer's. It went from refreshing to trendy within a year, and in a "2020s perspective", it's a heavily oversaturated trope/genre now. It'd probably be problematic for the same reasons the house elves in Harry Potter are, too, and Colfer may have a fetish for Eurasian girls.

Eternity Code's cover is so sparkly and shiny that it blinded me on sight, and once I turned the cover over, the author's picture jumpscared the living daylights out of me. It's a MASSIVE picture, not a jacket thing like usual, but you know...there were no books I loved this month, so Artemis Fowl wins my favorite of December. I never read it as a kid because I couldn't take a boy called "Artemis" seriously, and unfortunately dialogue in the book calls me out on this.

Most Offensive Book of December/The Entire Year Award: Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli.

November Reviews:

8 books from the Ology series (a fake encyclopedia with pop ups and stuff, and a sort of story to be found in documents woven in, really pretty art), and I never finished three celebrity memoirs because I didn't have the time. But I love the Ology books.

Making a Scene by Constance Wu seemed promising.

Alan Rickman's diaries were very much just that, and I believe he wrote it. I read a few pages of entries before getting too bored of his ordinary life, so I can't judge its quality (but it is just diaries).

Tom Felton seems capable of writing decently, and so my belief in whether he wrote it wavers. But I feel the need to mention these books that aren't even in my house (as a preface?) because Tom Felton gets on my nerves. I scream into the void to rant about how this mediocre actor keeps milking his Harry Potter fame to the ends of the earth. Dude is in his mid-30s and constantly acts on the verge of writing a Dramione fanfic. He's absurd. He's too rich. He only has 31 minutes of screen time across 8 films. Someone stop him.

Little Cruelties by Liz Nugent (2020) is advertised as a mystery book, but there is no mystery to solve here; it is solely a family-drama book, and a hellishly terrible one. The EXCUSE for a mystery is guessing which abused brother is in the coffin in the first chapter. Immediately obvious it's the bipolar, mentally unwell and depressed one. Everyone is unlikable, and the brother that dies is just sad. They should all go into the coffin. 

The Couple at No. 9 by Claire Douglas (2021). This is a mystery book for real this time.  I guessed all the twists, but it's not a waste of time, it's just that the title is spoiler-y. I like being right, but it's not a book I'd reread after confirming how right I am; nothing funny, memorable, thrilling / reread-worthy. Our MC, Saffron Cutler, the most boring woman, gets the privilege of being the only central character with first person. Other characters get chapters told from their perspective, but in third person, and this system is ridiculously dumb and awkward. The second person pages are even dumber. Characters are wasted, and it's painfully obvious this was written by a British woman in a not-good way. Still an enjoyable book, though.

Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery (1919). This is part of LMM's Anne series (Anne of Green Gables), focusing on the children of a minister with Anne in the background. Is this a children book for children about tiny children? Yes. Am I biased towards this anyway and liked it? Also yes. I don't know whether I've read this before, which was bothersome, but that's my Alzheimer's at work. Of course I'm never throwing away an Anne book.

The Truth Cookie by Fiona Dunbar (2004). This is a modern children's book. Modern children really get insulting books. Since it's in first-person, the narrator is 12 and you shan't forget. It's a cute book but it sparks zero joy, and I have never read it before trying to throw it away. My sister refused to let me do so. Mission failed.

Fourth Grade is A Jinx by Colleen O'Shaughnessy McKenna (1989). Our MC, Collette, is intolerable, and I doubt she'd be any more bearable had I been in 4th grade when reading this, as my sister didn't object to me throwing it away. A plotless plot concerning foolish fourth graders with first world problems. Zero world problems, even.

Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill by Maud Hart Lovelace (1942). Ten year-olds in 1942 read far more respectable books than the ones in 1989. I remember reading this, but only recall a quarter of the plot. I'd give this to my children if I had any; it's a charming book and its humor holds up. I'm...keeping it.

The Bell Family by Noel Streatfeild (1954). I will be keeping this, judge me if you will. It's a funny and realistic slice-of-life window into 1950s London. No one in my family recognizes this book, but now I do, and I think it's quite a nice kids' book. It's the London version of Rainbow Valley.

The Music of Dolphins by Karen Hesse (1996) portrays a psychologically accurate case of a feral child (scientifically...not so much). Easy and depressing to read, and one character is reminiscent of the real-life case of Genie. It's not bad, but I have no desire to go through it again.

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (1939), a realist novel concerning the hardships of The Great Depression. This is no American Girl: Kit Kittredge, no, no, no—it's Grapes of WRATH. Wrathfully boring. Realistic and interesting books exist, and this is not one of them. A better investment of time would be reading articles on actual, real people during The Great Depression, which is not only more engaging, but more educational as well. But I have developed a complex of not throwing away classics, so it stays.

The Testament by John Grisham (1999), a legal thriller that flip-flops between the jungles of Brazil and the courthouse / lawyers' offices. The cast is mainly made up of the most selfish, stupidest wretches, and not once did I feel like complaining about them. Everything they did was believable, and never annoying to read about. The protagonist is an overworked lawyer and alcoholic with horrendous issues, but he stills comes across likable. The ending became suddenly Christian, but I respect it. The book does have good values that don't restrict themselves to Christianity.

The top contenders for my favorite book from this selection only would be The Testament, Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill and The Bell Family.
If we count proper stories, that is—Ology books will always have my heart.