One Came Home

So it comes to this, I remember thinking on Wednesday, June 7, 1871. The date sticks in my mind because it was the day of my sister's first funeral and I knew it wasn't her last - which is why I left. That's the long and short of it.

How could this book not be good with an opening paragraph like that?! And how could you not love a heroine (Georgie) who, at 13, treks out on her own in the Wisconsin wilderness with just her Springfield rifle and a borrowed mule because she is not convinced that the remains of a girl found in her sister's dress were actually her sister's remains? She made me laugh out loud, inspired me to learn how to shoot a gun and impressed me with her vocabulary. The mystery was captivating, the historical significance interesting and the resolution complete. Two thumbs up.

A (not so) brief aside:

For the first time ever, I actually read online reviews of this book before I wrote my own. It happened accidentally and I vow to avoid it in the future, but I will comment here on a critique that I found odd. There were a few adult readers who thought that even though they had enjoyed the book, "children might not be able to relate to the novel" and thus rated it lower. How odd, I thought. To this, I have two responses.

1. Why would one rate a book lower because it might not appeal to a different audience? There are several books I have read that I don't think my brother would like, but it doesn't make me like them any less. Even if the book was intended for an audience of 25-yr-old males, I wouldn't like it less because I thought he wouldn't be able to relate to it.

2. If these readers were acting as if they were on the Newbery committee or soon would be (seriously, who does that?) and for that reason rated the book lower based on their faulty claim that children could not relate, I submit the following: This is perhaps not true for everyone, but I've noticed that the change in my literature preferences over the years is almost nonexistent. Books that I loved as a child are still my favorites now. Books that made me laugh out loud and that I struggled to put down at bedtime still have the same effect on me. I can only assume that the converse is true (especially since most books I read as an adult are intended for kids anyway). So why would these book critics feel that a book written in the perspective of a tween that captivated and entertained them as adults be so out of reach for tweeners themselves?!?

*phew* And that, folks, is why I am going to lay off the book reviews for now.