This unabashed collection joins Sidman’s (Eureka!, not reviewed, etc.) verse with new-to-children’s-books Mindell’s photographs and essays from teens to celebrate the wonders of all things canine. Divided into thematic chapters under the headings “Awakening,” “Tag,” “Understanding,” and “Happiness,” the writings explore the relationship between dog and human and seek to plumb the depths of doggy psychology: “Watching you / greet strangers / is like watching a diver / spring off the board / humbly and with grace / trusting the blue air / and the depths / of love.” For the most part, the verse avoids the trap of mawkish sentiment, treating with humor such canine epiphanies as a roll in a skunk, and moving at times into inspiration, as with “Dog and Squirrel: Steps in a Flirtation,” and the comparison of human to dog “Noses”: “Mine / is an afterthought, / a molehill, / a period between two sentences of eyes. / Yours / is the main event: / a long, elegant, / labyrinthine / echo chamber of smell.” The teen offerings do not fair quite so well, often and unsurprisingly showing a beginner’s tendency to use stilted syntax and unnecessary three-dollar words. They nevertheless are clearly written from the heart (and are frequently accompanied by photos of their beloved subjects) and can serve to inspire teen readers to try their own hands. The professional photographs frequently display an annoying tendency toward artistic blurriness, but by and large suit the worshipful mood of the volume. As a whole, dog lovers will likely lap it up eagerly, budding writers will snuffle it with interest, and teens who combine the two tendencies might even roll ecstatically. (Poetry/essays. 12+)
Pub Date: March 24, 2003
ISBN: 0-618-17497-4
Page Count: 80
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2003
Troubled teen meets totemic catalyst in Mikaelsen’s (Petey, 1998, etc.) earnest tribute to Native American spirituality. Fifteen-year-old Cole is cocky, embittered, and eaten up by anger at his abusive parents. After repeated skirmishes with the law, he finally faces jail time when he viciously beats a classmate. Cole’s parole officer offers him an alternative—Circle Justice, an innovative justice program based on Native traditions. Sentenced to a year on an uninhabited Arctic island under the supervision of Edwin, a Tlingit elder, Cole provokes an attack from a titanic white “Spirit Bear” while attempting escape. Although permanently crippled by the near-death experience, he is somehow allowed yet another stint on the island. Through Edwin’s patient tutoring, Cole gradually masters his rage, but realizes that he needs to help his former victims to complete his own healing. Mikaelsen paints a realistic portrait of an unlikable young punk, and if Cole’s turnaround is dramatic, it is also convincingly painful and slow. Alas, the rest of the characters are cardboard caricatures: the brutal, drunk father, the compassionate, perceptive parole officer, and the stoic and cryptic Native mentor. Much of the plot stretches credulity, from Cole’s survival to his repeated chances at rehabilitation to his victim being permitted to share his exile. Nonetheless, teens drawn by the brutality of Cole’s adventures, and piqued by Mikaelsen’s rather muscular mysticism, might absorb valuable lessons on anger management and personal responsibility. As melodramatic and well-meaning as the teens it targets. (Fiction. YA)
Pub Date: Feb. 28, 2001
ISBN: 0-380-97744-3
Page Count: 256
Publisher: HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2001
Themes of freedom and responsibility twine between the lines of this short but heavy novel from the author of Because of Winn-Dixie (2000). Three months after his mother's death, Rob and his father are living in a small-town Florida motel, each nursing sharp, private pain. On the same day Rob has two astonishing encounters: first, he stumbles upon a caged tiger in the woods behind the motel; then he meets Sistine, a new classmate responding to her parents' breakup with ready fists and a big chip on her shoulder. About to burst with his secret, Rob confides in Sistine, who instantly declares that the tiger must be freed. As Rob quickly develops a yen for Sistine's company that gives her plenty of emotional leverage, and the keys to the cage almost literally drop into his hands, credible plotting plainly takes a back seat to character delineation here. And both struggle for visibility beneath a wagonload of symbol and metaphor: the real tiger (and the inevitable recitation of Blake's poem); the cage; Rob's dream of Sistine riding away on the beast's back; a mysterious skin condition on Rob's legs that develops after his mother's death; a series of wooden figurines that he whittles; a larger-than-life African-American housekeeper at the motel who dispenses wisdom with nearly every utterance; and the climax itself, which is signaled from the start. It's all so freighted with layers of significance that, like Lois Lowry's Gathering Blue (2000), Anne Mazer's Oxboy (1995), or, further back, Julia Cunningham's Dorp Dead (1965), it becomes more an exercise in analysis than a living, breathing story. Still, the tiger, "burning bright" with magnificent, feral presence, does make an arresting central image. (Fiction. 10-12)
Pub Date: March 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-7636-0911-0
Page Count: 128
Publisher: Candlewick
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2001
BOOK TO SCREEN
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