Downton Withdrawal? Meet the FitzOsbornes!

Our motion picture related post got us thinking about the silver screen. Now that Downton Abbey is on hiatus, might we suggest the Montmaray Journals, which we think would be perfect as the next big period drama. Exiled royalty, a vengeful (and borderline insane) servant, debutante parties, the onset of WWII, and an opinionated great-aunt that could give Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess a run for her money, the FitzOsbornes have it all as they zip in and out of world events with dignity, humor, and style.

We’ve decided to do some wishful casting for The Montmaray Journals, but despite all the Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Downton Abbey we watch, our knowledge of actors is fairly limited. So please chime in with your own fan casts!

Sophie FitzOsborne: Saoirse Ronan (aka the girl from Atonement)

Veronica: Jessica Brown Findlay (aka Lady Sybil from Downton Abbey)

Toby: Eddie Redmayne (aka Marius from Les Mis)

Henry: Ramona Marquez (aka Karen from Outnumbered)

Simon: Skandar Keynes (aka Edmund from Narnia)

Daniel: Arthur Darvill (aka Rory from Doctor Who)

Rebecca: Siobhan Finneran (aka O’Brien from Downton Abbey)

Aunt Charlotte: toss up between Catherine Tate (aka Donna from Doctor Who) and Penelope Wilton (aka Harriet Jones! from Doctor Who)

The Colonel: toss up between Hugh Laurie (aka House) and Benedict Cumberbatch (aka Sherlock)

Rupert: Tommy Knight (aka Sarah Jane Smith’s son from Doctor Who)

Julia: Jenna Louise Coleman (aka Oswin Oswald/Clara/??? from Doctor Who)

Anthony: Thomas Howes (aka William from Downton Abbey)

(Yeah, it’s basically one big Doctor Who party, with some Downton thrown in as well. Conclusion: we watch way too much television.)

Update: Author Michelle Cooper has actually thought this through before. See her picks and many more here.

Books We Actually Want To See As Movies…

Usually we prefer books to stay books, because the movie versions rarely turn out as good as what we’ve envisioned in our heads (set design aside…) But there are always exceptions to the rule, and we think these books would be brilliant as films:

1) Team Human by Justine Larbalestrier and Sarah Rees Brennan

Twi-hard fans and Twi-hard avoiders will adore this clever and comic take on high school with vampires. Subverting a genre has never been so fun. (Even the cover looks like a movie poster!)

2) Cosmic by Frank Cottrell Boyce

Kids in a dangerous rocket ship. What could go wrong?

3) Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick by Joe Schreiber

This is a teen action-spy movie waiting to happen. Plus, everything goes down on prom night.

4) Hereville: How Mirka Got Her Sword by Barry Deutsch

This graphic novel would make a quirky animated film. A quirky animated cartoon film. With the panels drawn in for good measure!

5) The Strange Case of Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger

If George Lucas/Disney is bringing us Star Wars Episode 7 and more, why not go all out? This is the ultimate homage. We’re thinking live action with Kellen’s doodles. (But please don’t let George write the script!)

What are some books you’d like to see as movies?

Scott O’Dell Challenge Part 7: Jip, His Story

The best part of Katherine Paterson’s Jip, His Story (set in 1855; and winner of the 1997 O’Dell Award) is the unexpected appearance of Lyddie Worthen, the mill girl from Lyddie. That book can’t be beat in terms of its depressing-ness (I found it sadder than Bridge to Terabithia, and that’s saying something), so when Lyddie appeared in Jip’s story, college-educated and a teacher, I couldn’t have been happier that she’d achieved her dreams at last.

But long before Lyddie shows up, we’re introduced to Jip, so-named because he fell off the back of a wagon as a baby and was taken to the poor farm (think London workhouses, but in rural Vermont) when no one claimed him. Jip knows nothing about his past, and life at the farm is tolerable, if not enjoyable. Because Jip has a way with animals, he practically runs the place, and his work is the only thing keeping the residents from starvation.

Jip, though a far cry from the feisty Lyddie, is strong precisely because he’s kind in the face of  poverty and brutality. He’s kind to the farm animals, kind to Sheldon, the simple-minded boy others treat as dumb manual labor, and he’s kind even to Put, the lunatic locked in a cage, who was shipped to the poor farm because the county didn’t want to pay for his stay at the asylum. Jip’s so busy being kind that he barely notices life hasn’t been kind to him–until others start to return the favor.

Under Teacher’s (Lyddie’s) encouragement, Jip learns to read and believes he deserves more in life. Put, in his saner moments, helps out on the farm and becomes a true friend to Jip. Around the same time, a stranger shows up in town, someone who takes an unusual interest in Jip, but alternately repulses and fascinates him with his stories about a man searching for his long-lost son. It’s the kind of slick, oily kindness Jip could do without, yet he can’t help feeling hopeful.

The mystery of Jip’s past, the mysterious stranger, and the friendship of Lyddie and her fiance Luke Stevens all wind up in a wrenching, satisfying ending. The solution was so obvious, but it eluded me until 3/4 of the way through, and it was like that moment in Keeper when everything suddenly makes sense–except I should have figured it out sooner.

And the history angle? Even though Jip’s particular struggles are period-specific (poor farms have gone out of fashion, thank goodness), I couldn’t help but think about the news every time the book mentions education, public funding or mental health care. We’re still wrestling with the same problems, and that makes Jip’s story timeless.

Review: Return to the Willows

Whenever an iconic and beloved series is jump-started, revamped, or revisited, there is always anxiety among devoted fans. Whoever’s heading the project has a demanding task ahead of them: make it relevant to the modern day, please the existing fanbase, connect with new audience, be true to the original material, don’t repaint Daleks in technicolor!

Now I didn’t read Kenneth Grahame’s classic, The Wind in the Willows, until I was an adult, so Willows doesn’t have the nostalgic aura surrounding it that it does for many readers. However, I think author Jacqueline Kelly does a cracking job ensuring that the Willows we return to is quintessentially the same Willows we left at the end of Grahame’s tale. For starters, the narrator’s voice is spot on: avuncularly British (though why I associate the two words, I don’t know. None of my uncles are British), charmingly old-school, languidly pastoral, and slightly superior, especially in matters of taste and culture. Familiar friends Ratty, Mole, Toad, and Badger haven’t changed a whit, either, although Toad’s taste in vehicles has grown more extravagant.

Okay, I complained about the love interest, but they’re cute together, so I had to draw them.

But Return to the Willows isn’t just a rehash of its predecessor. It’s no easy task to write funny, much less the kind of funny that spans a century, but as a contemporary reader, I enjoyed the lovely mix of slapstick, situational humor, and witty characterization–especially when certain characters fail to realize the joke’s on them. Kelly also introduces several new characters to shake up Ratty, Mole, Toad, and Badger’s idyllic life: the nephew, the urchin, and the love-interest. Humphrey, Toad’s nephew, a shy young inventor befriends Sammy, a good-hearted weasel from the wrong side of the woods, and their friendship sets into motion one of the more climactic plotlines. And then there’s Matilda. At first, I was wary that the only female character Kelly introduces is Ratty’s potential love interest, but thankfully, Matilda turns out to be brave and clever, able to hold her own in Ratty, Badger, and Mole’s long-standing old boy’s club. (Still, why could she not have a name like Squirrel, or Hedgehog, or Vole–if you want her to be the same species as Ratty–and be the definite animal of her kind, the way Ratty, Mole, and Toad are?)

In short, I had a great time revisiting Willows (and Clint Young’s illustrations won me over completely), although I wonder what hardcore fans of the original think. Were you as charmed with this sequel as I was?

Battle of the Kids’ Book-More Random Thoughts

1) It is truly the year of YA fiction and the YA judges. Round 1 has left a wake of non-fiction and middle grade spines in its wake. (Bomb is the only non-fiction book to prevail when pitted against fiction, YA or middle grade; Starry River is the only middle grade book to prevail against YA.)

2) In Round 1, 6 out of 16 books were YA, 6 out of 16 books were MG, and 4 out 16 books were non-fiction. Going into Round 2, 5 out of 8 books are YA, 2 out of 8 books are MG, and 1 out of 8 books are non-fiction. The percentage of YA has increased from 37.5% in Round 1 to 62.5% in Round 2; the percentage of MG has decreased from 37.5% in Round 1 to 25% in Round 2; the percentage of non-fiction has decreased from 25% in Round 1 to 12.5% in Round 2.

3) With YA dominating the field, the diversity of genres has decreased from the first round to the next. This makes future brackets less exciting, in my opinion.

4) As I understand college sports (which is barely, so feel free to correct me) Division I schools play other Division I schools, and so forth. If it is unfair to pit a Division I team against a Division III team, then why match middle grade against non-fiction against YA in the first round?

5) Instead, do a Liar & Spy vs Splendors and Glooms, and match YA against YA, non-fiction against non-fiction, and middle grade against middle grade in Round 1. It’s not affirmative action, it’s reducing inherent biases.

6) Then judges won’t have to reiterate ad nauseam how choosing one over the other is like picking “apples and oranges,” or resort to egalitarian politesse (until Round 2 or 3.) That should make Roger Sutton happier.

7) Unrelated, but could the judges stop doing in-depths summaries of the books? We’ve either read the books already, or we want to read the books, so it’s a lose-lose situation when the judges give away more than the basic premise.

Battle of the Kids’ Books–Random Thoughts

1. So far I’m 5/5 in the Battle of the Kids’ Books Round 1 predictions…I’m flabbergasted. I should celebrate, before tomorrow’s match (the hardest one, I think) throws everyone’s predictions out the window.

2. The SLJ artwork keeps getting better. I’m enjoying the creative backgrounds for each match–especially the Endangered bonobo peering out from behind a tree. If the artwork gets any more elaborate, next year we’ll have videos of fighting books instead of still images.

3. Roger Sutton’s judging of the judges adds a nice touch–I wouldn’t mind less hand-wringing either (unless it’s justified, for something like Liar & Spy v. Splendors and Glooms)

4. Probably everyone has noticed the “star” theme of this year’s book titles…

5. …but there’s also a serious trend of water playing a huge role in the plot. The Titanic sinking, the drowning in Splendors and Glooms, the Resistance canoeing down a river in CNV, the river in Three Times Lucky, the Moonbird coastlines…I could go on. Am I missing something? Are books usually so water-heavy, or is there something special about this year’s lot?

In Honor of Pi Day…

Review: Navigating Early by Clare Vanderpool

Before I say anything else about this book:

• does Navigating’s cover not remind you of its predecessor, Moon Over Manifest?
• did anyone else make Life of Pi comparisons while reading it?
• or Keeper, by Kathi Appelt?
• or the film Moonrise Kingdom, for that matter?

That said, Navigating Early, by 2011 Newbery Award winner Clare Vanderpool, is a strange strange story. It’s a story-within-a-story of tall tales, self-discovery, friendship, and old school adventure.

Vanderpool captured my attention right away with the character of Jack, a self-described “fish out of water,” only inversed. Not only has he been transplanted from Kansas to Morton Hill Academy, a maritime-obsessed boarding school on the coast of Maine, Jack is also struggling with the recent loss of his mother. This adds another level of estrangement between him and everyone else in his life, particularly his father, a naval officer who has just returned from four years of fighting in WWII. Through a series of embarrassing events, Jack gets acquainted with Early, “that strangest of boys” who believes that Pi is more than a number, that Pi tells a story, and that contrary to the “theories” of a university math professor, Pi isn’t finite. Early is also no stranger to loss, but unlike Jack, he isn’t lost. He’s actively looking for something. Perhaps that’s the reason why Jack decides to join Early on his crazy quest down the Kennebec River to find Pi.