Heat by Mike Lupica

From the jacket: “Michael Arroyo grows up in the shadows of hallowed Yankee Stadium, a boy forever on the outside looking in. His only chance to see his field of dreams? Pitch his Bronx all-star team to the district finals and a shot ta the Little League World Series. But there is a problem. Michael is good — too good. Rival coaches and players can’t believe a boy could be this good and be only twelve years old.”

My take: Ace pitcher Michael, his 17-year-old brother Carlos, and their Papi are relatively recent arrivals in New York, having escaped from Cuba with the hope of getting the gifted Michael to the Little League World Series and, eventually, to the Majors.

All is progressing according to plan: Michael is feeling great both from the mound and at the plate. He and his best friend Manny, a fast-talking catcher with a secret passion for dance, books, and movies, are part of an unbelievably good summer all-star team in the Bronx. And there’s this beautiful girl named Ellie who’s started showing up at the playing field some days who’s got a wicked arm and a great laugh.

You’d think life just couldn’t get any better for Michael until an opposing father/coach writes a letter to the local Little League saying he suspects Michael is older than he’s allowed to be, and the league votes to suspend Michael until he and his family can produce his birth certificate to prove his age. Suddenly, life has just gotten much more complicated, threatening to reveal a secret that Michael is guarding closely and that could get him and his loved ones into a lot of trouble.

Sports columnist Lupica has created an interesting backstory for his main character and his secondaries and does not feel obligated to share all of it with us. This helps to make the characters feel like people with stories outside of the confines of the novel. Also, there were several spots in the book where I thought, “Oh, so this is where the story is going to go.” And often it didn’t. I don’t know if those were intentional false leads or if Lupica just, as Jasper Fforde puts it, built himself a lot of off-ramps that he didn’t end up needing, but, again, it works.

I think this is a book that a lot of boys would really like. Michael’s not an outwardly emotional character, but he’s got a lot going on beneath the surface. He feels out of control in his life, but when he’s on a baseball field that all slips into the background. Plus, Manny makes an awesome best friend. The boys try to solve their own problems without getting adults involved, which recalls to mind a number of poor interesting choices I made as a teenager because I could see grownups were just going to complicate things. I’m not saying it’s a good thing, merely that it’s real.

It’s not just boys who’ll like the book, though. Anyone with an appreciation for a well-told tale focusing on the underdog also will close the back cover with a smile on their face. I’m glad I picked it up.

Pages: 220

Mikaiya and I are making progress on our summer readalong. Here’s my latest installment:

The Wizard of Oz by Frank Baum

From the jacket: “One of the true classics of American literature, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz has stirred the imaginations of young and old alike for over four generations. Originally published in 1900, it was the first truly American fairy tale, as Baum crafted a wonderland out of such familiar items as a cornfield scarecrow, a mechanical woodman, and a humbug wizard who used old-fashioned hokum to express that universal theme, ‘There’s no place like home.’
“Follow the adventures of young Dorothy Gale and her dog, Toto, as their Kansas house is swept away by a cyclone and they find themselves in a strange land called Oz. Here she meets the Munchkins and joins the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion ion an unforgettable journey to the Emerald City, where lives the all-powerful Wizard of Oz.”

My take: I have no idea what kept me from this 110-year-old classic for so long. I love the movie. I’ve read Gregory Maguire’s response. Heck, I even read the second book in the Oz series as a kid. But I am pleased to report that the wait was well worth it. And this centennial edition, a hardcover with gilt edges and a bookmark ribbon featuring W. W. Denslow’s original illustrations, was a beautiful introduction to Baum’s story.

If your exposure to the Oz series comes exclusively from the Judy Garland film, you will notice several differences when you sit down with the book. First, no Miss Gulch. No running away. The shoes are silver, not ruby-hued. And all who enter the City of Emeralds must wear a pair of green spectacles to protect their eyes from the “brightness and glory” that would blind them otherwise.

But you will find the story not unfamiliar. A cyclone still sends Dorothy and Toto and their house swirling into Munchkinland. The way to the Emerald City is still along the road of yellow brick, which leads past a cornfield with a scarecrow who longs for some brains and through the forest where a Tin Woodman rusted solid while pining for a heart and where a Cowardly Lion quakes in terror that his fellow animals might realize he’s all roar and no bite. And the way back to Kansas and Aunt Em, for, according to the great and terrible wizard ruler, in Oz, “everyone must pay for everything he gets,” still lies with the destruction of the Wicked Witch of the West.

An enduring classic I’m delighted to have finally encountered in its original format.

Pages: 267

Blockade Billy by Stephen King

From the jacket: “Even the most diehard baseball fans don’t know the true story of William “Blockade Billy” Blakely. He may have been the greatest player the game has ever seen, but today no one remembers his name. He was the first — and only — player to have his existence completely removed from the record books. Even his team is long forgotten, barely a footnote in the game’s history.”

My take: Doesn’t that teaser just make you want to run out and pick up a copy?

The world’s creepiest writer (and unabashed baseball fan) chronicles in this novella the uncensored reminiscences of the former third base coach and equipment manager of the New Jersey Titans, who looks back at the brief but lurid career of their 1957 catcher, William Blakely, better known as “Blockade Billy.”

Due to back-to-back crises involving their first-string and backup catchers during spring training, the team was forced to call up Blakely from the minors. George “Granny” Grantham met him at the ballpark the morning of Opening Day to get him set up and to keep him from running back to the Iowa farm he’d driven in from when he realized the enormity of the task before him. But from his arrival, Blakely exuded a quiet confidence in his ability to play in the Majors.

And he did. He caught perfectly well. He hit safely in 22 straight games. And, as his nickname suggests, he protected the plate like no one’s business. Unafraid of a collision, he put his shoulder down and sent several players who mistakenly thought they could shove past him flying through the air. For roughly a month, Blakely was flying high. Or so everyone thought…

Granny, through King, tells a convincing story of when baseball was still undisputedly America’s favorite pastime and when its players were cut from a coarser cloth.*

Pages: 112

*I wanted to share a couple other things, but they didn’t fit in smoothly up above: 1) Despite having the King name attached, this was not a horror novel. Older elementary school kids would be perfectly fine reading it for content (and it, in fact, reminds me slightly of a couple of books that made the rounds when I was in fourth grade). However, the salty language makes this a better match for older teens or adults, at least those comfortable with locker room talk. 2) This is really more of a long short story, even, than a novella, as the book’s footprint is small and the type is large. It will take the average reader less than an afternoon to read it. I suggest putting it aside for a prolonged rain delay. 3) My favorite part of the book may have been where Granny (and King) call out George Will on his economic interpretation of baseball. Yes, I am a nerd, why did you ask?

This week’s Booking through Thursday asks:

What is the first book you remember reading? What about the first that made you really love reading?

Is it wrong that I don’t know the answer to these questions? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know how to read, although my grandmother assures me that one winter she and my grandfather left for Florida with me not knowing how to read and came back two or so months later and I did. Plus, obviously I didn’t just come out of the womb with a book in my hand, although if I had it most certainly would have explained the wait I caused my parents: “Just a few more minutes. I’ll be born when I finish this chapter!”

I’d like to say my first book could have been one by Richard Scarry, although those probably came later with my brother. Certainly I was quite taken with Scarry’s Please and Thank You Book when I was five or so and still cite it as a favorite. We had Little Golden Books, so it could have been one of those. Or maybe An Invitation to the Butterfly Ball? — I recall its beautiful pictures. That scratch-and-sniff Winnie the Pooh book? A Babar story? Curious George? Mum? Dad? Any recollection?

I do recall being in first grade and being quite smitten by Snow White and Rose Red in my elementary school library. It was on the shelf by the door where the Beatrix Potter books were kept and was roughly the same size. That was probably the first book I checked out on several separate occasions (and, to this day, one of the few) just because I liked the story so much.

And I know that I really felt that my brother ought to get started on his reading while he was still quite young. The physically smallest book we owned was a copy of Rosemary Wells’ Noisy Nora, and I routinely would interrupt Josh’s playing to try and walk him through the words on the pages. It was not a success and probably helped put him off reading for many years.

(In retrospect, I probably would have been better off with Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things that Go instead of a book about a girl mouse who found her baby brother annoying. (In all fairness, she found her older sister a pain, too.))

How about you? What books helped give you your first foray into reading? Share with us in the comments…

Yesterday I was responsible and returned some things to my local library before I owed them money. Yes, they were confused, too.

I was hoping to pick up a book I’d just heard about over the weekend and that the website suggested could be found at my local branch, but it was nowhere to be found. Obviously I couldn’t harass each patron to demand that they hand over the novel I wanted, so instead I picked up some other, more spontaneous choices:

• Blockade Billy by Stephen King — A baseball novella that will be, I believe, my first King ever. (God, I hope it’s not too scary!)
• Heat by Mike Lupica — I didn’t have any of the other kids’ books on my to-be-read list written down but remembered there was a sports book on it. As it turns out, this isn’t it, but I’m still looking forward to reading this baseball book from a Connecticut writer.
• Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson — This novel has been on my radar since my friend Erik wrote me about it back, oh, probably last winter. I’m eager to start it. Maybe this weekend…
• The Last Olympian by Percy Jackson — I was torn. I thought about re-reading the first four novels in this series before picking up the final one, but then I remembered this was the first time I’d seen Book 5 at the library since it came out last year and quickly added it to my pile.

I still have a few other books out from an earlier library jaunt, so expect a few more book reports as this week goes on.

The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy, by Jeanne Birdsall

From the jacket: “Meet the Penderwicks, four different sisters with one special bond. There’s responsible, practical Rosalind; stubborn, feisty Skye; dreamy, artistic Jane; and shy little sister Batty, who won’t go anywhere without her butterfly wings. When the girls and their doting father head off for their summer holiday, they are in for a surprise. Instead of the cozy, tumbledown cottage they expected, they find themselves on a beautiful estate called Arundel. Soon the girls are busy discovering the summertime magic of Arundel’s sprawling gardens, treasure-filled attic, tame rabbits, and the cook who makes the best gingerbread in Massachusetts. But the most wonderful discovery of all is Jeffrey Tifton, son of Arundel’s owner, who quickly proves to be the perfect companion for their adventures.”

My take: I read the first chapter of this novel last summer whiling away time before meeting a friend and have been meaning to get back to it for a year. When it appeared on the list of 100 children’s books not to miss, it was an early and easy selection for getting caught up.

Written in the same vein as Edward Eager’s and Edith Nesbit’s series, The Penderwicks takes a family of children, plunks them in a foreign situation, and gives them a period of mostly adult-free time in which to sort out the world around them.

The story opens as the girls, their father, and faithful Hound try to locate their summer rental. After several wrong turns, they discover they’ve booked a spacious “cottage” that gives each girl her own room on an old estate’s property. The land is owned by Mrs. Tifton, a stuffy, overprotective woman who objects to children tromping through her prized garden and who certainly does not want her darling son, Jeffrey, interacting with the riff-raff tenants. Jeffrey and the girls, however, have other ideas, which makes for a fun romp of a summer for all of them.

Although this particular book is magic-free (unlike the Nesbit and Eager books mentioned above), the tale hearkens back to a period of time when kids were able to spend time entertaining themselves without parents over-scheduling and overseeing every movement. The story is clearly not written in the here and now, as no cell phones interrupt the peace of a country summer, but laptops exist, so I’d probably place it roughly in roughly the mid-1990s.

I found the book charming and can fully understand why it was awarded the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature.

Pages: 262