Mister Pip–by Lloyd Jones

Jones, Lloyd.  Mister Pip.  New York: The Dial Press, 2007.

“Everyone called him Pop Eye.  Even in those days, when I was a skinny thirteen-year-old, I thought he probably knew about his nickname but didn’t care.  His eyes were too interested in what lay up ahead to notice us barefoot kids.  He looked like someone who had seen or known great suffering and hadn’t been able to forget it.  His large eyes in his large head stuck out further than anyone else’s–like they wanted to leave the surface of his face.  They made you think of someone who can’t get out of the house quickly enough.  Pop Eye wore the same white linen suit every day.  His trousers snagged on his bony knees in the sloppy heat.  Some days he wore a clown’s nose.  His nose was already big.  He didn’t need that red lightbulb.  But for reasons we couldn’t think of he wore the red nose on certain days–which may have meant something to him.  We never saw him smile.  And on those days he wore the clown’s nose you found yourself looking away because you never saw such sadness.” (p. 1)

When the village freak–the only white man left on the island–becomes the kids’ teacher, life turns upside down.  And when war and rebellion hit the island, it all goes downhill from there.  Who do you trust?

Elijah of Buxton–by Christopher Paul Curtis

Curtis, Christopher Paul.  Elijah of Buxton.  New York: Scholastic Press, 2007.

Life’s hard, right?  You have to go school, do what crazy grown-ups tell you even when it doesn’t make a lick of sense, and put up with being called “fra-gile” all the time even when you are clearly NOT being fragile.  Elijah gets this all the time, even from his parents!  He’s pretty sure the WORST thing on earth has happened to him after his mom decides to play a trick on him:

“…I moved my hand ‘round in the bottom of the jar, I felt one n’em rope cookies…and Mrs. Brown must’ve just brought these cookies over, ‘cause the last one left was still warm!  I pulled the cookie outta the jar.

“My heart quit beating, my blood ran cold, and time stood still!  My fingers were wrapped ‘round the neck of the worst-looking snake in Canada West!  I screamed, ‘Snake!’ and afore I knowed it, I was tearing off ‘cross the road into the woods.  By the time I worned myself out I must’ve run two miles.  I stopped and leaned ‘gainst a tree, waiting for my breathing to catch up to me.  Something made me look down in my hand.

“I screamed, ‘Snake!’ for the second time.  But this time I remembered to turn the snake’s neck a-loose and throwed it down.  I wouldn’t’ve thought I had enough strength left in me to run, but being afeared and being tired look like two things you caint feel at the same time.” (p. 19)

TOTALLY unfair, right?  Never mind that this was payback for putting the biggest toady-frog in Canada West in his ma’s sewing basket!  And Elijah gets it worse than anyone because he, the first child born free from slavery in the Buxton settlement in Canada, had a terrible accident as a baby…which unfortunately involved vomit and a visit from Frederick Douglass…but never mind that, just wait till Elijah gets growned, then he’s gonna show everybody!

But when there comes an opportunity to buy a neighbor’s family out of slavery, it looks like he’s gonna have to show how grown up he is sooner than anybody thinks…

Sold–by Patricia McCormick

McCormick, Patricia.  Sold.  New York: Hyperion, 2006.

You probably know that in many parts of the world, kids your age do not have the same kinds of freedoms and privileges you have.  Extreme poverty means a lot more than not getting to watch tv or join the soccer team; for 13-year-old Lakshmi in Nepal, poverty means surrendering everything to help her family survive.  When her step-father announces that she must leave their village to find work as a maid in the city, Lakshmi is unhappy but willing.  As she leaves the village with the woman who appears to have hired her, though, things start looking fishy, and they don’t get any better as she reaches the big city.

“Mumtaz studies me.  ‘Are you ready to go to work?’ she says in my language.  I nod and say yes, then nod again, although I do not understand how these city people do their chores in such fine clothes and uncomfortable shoes.  I follow Mumtaz down a hallway lined with tiny rooms.  We pass by girls sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Girls drawing on tiger eyes.  Girls spraying themselves with flower water.  Some of them stare at me.  Some take no notice.

“We go up some stairs, down another hallway, then into a room where an old man is lying on a bed.  His skin is yellow and he has tufts of hair poking out from his ears.  Mumtaz speaks kindly to him and I wonder if he is sick.  Across the hall, in another room, where a red cloth is hung across the doorway, I hear the sound of grunting.  It is a strange, animal sound that makes me shudder.  Mumtaz points to me and says something to the old man.  He licks his palm and smoothes down his hair.  They do not seem to notice the grunting.  Then it stops.  The red cloth is pulled back.  And a man stands in the hallway zipping his pants.  I look down at my red-painted nails and my new shoes.  Something is not right here.  I don’t know what is going on, but it is not right, not right at all.”  (p. 102-103)

And it’s not right.  Lakshmi has been sold into the illegal sex trade in India, and her only way out…well, it isn’t a way out at all…