Our Only May Amelia, a Newberry Honor Book by Jennifer L. Holm, has been suggested by Rebecca (when I asked for a suggestion two months ago, she gave me two books, and this is the second! Thanks, Rebecca!)
Here's a synopsis:
May Amelia is the only girl in the Jackson family and the only girl ever born along the Nasel River. Her family, including seven brothers, refers to her as the 'Miracle.' Sometimes it is great being referred to as the miracle, other times it is plain maddening. May Amelia thinks the real 'miracle' would be if the baby her mother is expecting turns out to be a girl. Will May Amelia be the only miracle? Or will the new baby be the sister she is wishing for?
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Okay, I love this book. I said in my last blog entry that I would have loved I, Coriander as a 12-year-old, but this book I love in the here and now. What a wonderful voice she gives May Amelia. I was actually crying (a lot) during the last few chapters because she became a real person to me. A bit embarrassing, but true. The author did a beautiful job of giving her some authentic 12-year-old writing quirks and the funny, earnest asides about her family members were absolutely charming.
Another thing that won me was the descriptions of the Pacific Northwest in pioneer times. All the years I was growing up our two annual family vacations each year were to Washington and the Oregon Coast, and I've been through the crazy, colorful patchwork town of Astoria many times. To get a glimpse of the area when it was still wild, dangerous, and teeming with smugglers was a lot of fun, especially through a child's eyes.
I also loved how the book read like a series of journal entries. If I hadn't read the synopsis on the back cover, I would have been hard pressed to say what the book's core conflict was (the synopsis says the conflict is that May Amelia wants a baby sister so she won't be the only girl on the Nasel River anymore.) But really it felt more natural to me than that -- like she was just writing in her journal day by day, unconscious of any particular patterns or plot to her story. That might bug some readers, but as a kid I devoured books like Alice in Wonderland and the Oz series that were similar to that -- more about telling a series of funny little episodes or introducing an interesting new character than about furthering some all-important plot line.
In closing, I'd like to remind everyone how wonderful it is to find a written history of an ancestor, as this author apparently did before writing the book. Particularly the written history of a child. My mother forced us to draw or write in a journal once a week from the first day we could grab a crayon, and it's a wonderful treasure. So if you have kids, seize the day and the Crayolas! I feel so close to my great-great grandmother Sarah Letts Brown because a few years back I transcribed the letters she wrote to her son, my great-grandfather, from England. You can hear stories all day ABOUT a person, but to hear them tell their own story is a magical thing. For example, great-great grandma Sarah says in each letter how much she would like to visit America and see the grandchildren she's never met, but the journey is just too long. When World War I comes and they learn about the miraculous new airplanes that have been invented, she writes, "father think they may be a chance to come and see you now their is flying meshenes o if we could i do wish we could see you and all of them dear children of yours as well o what a meeting a meeting it would be but we hope to meet in the bye and by." You can't get any closer to your dead ancestors than that. It makes me laugh and cry every time I read it.
So long live the May Amelias of the world who endure with a sense of humor the hardships of homesteading and of too many brothers. Also, long live the sheeps. What a delightful journey.
I finished this about a week ago and ahve started something else since, and I really should have got on the computer right away when the book was still fresh in my mind. Oh well.
Now all I can remember is that I really enjoyed reading it, but I don't have anything in particular to say about it...it was nice. I liked the sheeps and the bears and the too-many brothers, the crazy man living by himself, the aunt in Astoria with her "gentleman friend" who keeps her, the Native American funeral (by now I can't even remember which tribe it was). Such nice color. And how sad I was for May Amelia after *********** (this part has been omitted by the Spoiler Police) **********. And doesn't fish head soup sound nasty? Blech.
I remember going to the wedding of my Chinese friend's brother and watching the guests fight over who got to eat the eyes out of the fishheads. It's interesting how "delicacies" are usually what I would describe as the nasty bits of critters. Recently on a dare Sharon and I nibbled on a chicken foot at our favorite dim sum parlor. Yick. Down with delicacies. I am decidedly indelicate. I think all animal-derived foodstuffs should taste like chicken.
However, we were intrigued by the squid ink featured in an appetizer at a local hoity-toity restaurant. I love to imagine the chef in the back laboring to frighten a teaspoon of ink out of some poor squid.
Sorry for the tangent.
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