Oops! I left a wonderful novel off the Wilde Awards. Thank goodness this year's Newbery committee gave an honor award to Gary Schmidt's Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy (Clarion Books, $15.00, ages 11 and up). Otherwise I might have missed it altogether.
Here's another oops. While I credit the committee for identifying Schmidt's fine work, I don't understand why it didn't win. 2004 Newbery medal winner, Cynthia Kadohata's Kira-Kira (Atheneum, $15.95, ages 11 and up) was a less worthy book.
It's not that Kira-Kira's a bad book. It has lots to recommend it. The viewpoint character is interesting. Katie Takeshima is the younger sister of imaginative Lynn. They are Japanese-American daughters of hard-working parents who are trying to make a good life for the family in the narrow-minded world of a small 1950's Georgia town. This era of Japanese-American prejudice is interesting because it's not been covered much in young adult novels and will surely enlighten middle school readers. The plot is interesting. There are enough problems in the difficult life of the family to keep readers going and that's before Lynn gets leukemia. The themes are interesting. Prejudice is handled genuinely with scenes that expose the hurt. Take for instance, the particularly strong scene in which Katie publicly mentions a wrong action her father had hidden--smashing the car window of the most powerful man in town after Lynn's death. When he goes directly to the home of this man and shamefully fesses up in Katie's presence, he receives retribution instead of the forgiveness readers might have expected, a stunning example of how right actions aren't rewarded when prejudice reigns. Kira-kira means glittering in Japanese and this title represents the book well. Though it has many memorable sparkling scenes, the novel as a whole does not lives up to the steady shine of the gold Newbery award on its cover.
Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy is exactly the kind of book that should be given a gleaming golden Newbery medal. This book is a gold standard -excellent in idea, execution and appeal. The book sings with quotable quotes and searing scenes that you savor while reading and will never forget after you turn the last page.
Like Kira-Kira, the book has an historical base. It takes place in 1912 in the town of Phippsburg, Maine. Phippsburg, once a successful shipping town, began an economic plunge and its citizens sought salvation by turning nearby Malaga Island into a tourist destination. To do this, they first had to remove the forty-nine residents of this poor community founded by former slaves. It was not desirable in its present condition. The Author's Note describes it as "a shore marked by hovels, and garbage heaps, and communities where rumors of interracial marriages and alcoholism and thievery and idiocy were kept alive in hushed but exuberant tales." The inhabitants were ordered off the island and eight were removed to a home for the feeble-minded, where they died very quickly.
There's plenty of tension in the truth alone, but the author adds more by breathing life into two extraordinary characters. The first is Turner Buckminster, a thirteen-year-old who's been torn from his Boston home when his father gets a job as minister in Phippsburg. Turner distrusts the community's overwhelming greeting. The entire populace (including a four-trombone band) meets the family, but Turner notices that the townsfolk look at him "as if he'd stepped in something they didn't want to be around". Sooon he's stared down in a "friendly" game of baseball by a young pitcher with "the kind of smile you give to a chicken whose head you're about to cut off." For the first of many times, Turner thinks he should "light out for the Territories".
He tries to stay optimistic. He tries to fit in with the other boys, live up to his father's expectations, live down an unfortunate run-in with fierce, rich Mrs. Cobb, and finally, to lose himself in the beautiful country that surrounds him. He sticks out like a sore thumb. That's how thirteen-year-old Lizzie spots him from her Malaga Island shore. He's wearing a "shirt so white it hurt to look at it" as he stands among the dark frock-coated men who are staring down at her.
Thirteen-year-old Lizzie is, as her grandfather often reminds her, "one year older than the century and so a good deal wiser...too wise to stay on Malaga Island". But Lizzie loves everything in her world; "the grainy rocks, the swaying pines, the cascade of stubborn blue mussels, the water splashing up green and streaming back white" and especially her preacher grandfather who was strong until told he had to move his flock. Then Lizzie feels "her grandfather ebb as thought his soul were passing out of him, the way the last waves of a falling tide pass into still air and are gone."
At their first meeting, Turner, who has "never spoken to a Negro before", likes the easy way Lizzie stands, "as if she were part of the contours of the shore", "the tilt of her head like a sail catching the wind. She had lit out for the Territories and found them..." Lizzie shows him her world; the pleasures of digging clams, negotiating the wild Tripp children who invade her grandfather's house, and rowing a dory. As they explore together, Turner is revived by her friendship and the miracles to which she introduces him. Meanwhile, back in Phippsburg, Turner has an increasingly difficult time reconciling what he knows with his father's harsh punishments and alliances with greedy community members. Finally, Turner defies them all to help Lizzie. Heartbreakingly, his efforts come too late. Lizzie has know for a long time that she and her people were doomed and that Turner "doesn't look at things straight on" Turner learns "straight on" when he attempts to rescue Lizzie from the Pownal Home for the Feeble-Minded and the matron tells him Lizzie died ten days after her arrival and "Those people hardly ever last long when they come here."
It's the mix of superior story and style that give this book sheen. The author brilliantly mixes lyricism, humor, breath-taking imagery, and unexpected turns of phrase that dive right into your soul. But best of all the book is not self-conscious, there's a curious humbleness as if the author, himself, bows before the horror of the historical event, the authentic characters he has rendered, the astounding landscapes he describes, the layered plot he invented, and words that glow like the golden Newbery medal.