As Beany Malone's seventeenth birthday—which falls on St. Patrick's Day—approaches, she is reminded of her childhood friend Miggs Carmody, with whom sAs Beany Malone's seventeenth birthday—which falls on St. Patrick's Day—approaches, she is reminded of her childhood friend Miggs Carmody, with whom she shared a birthday, and who was once her inseparable companion. Guilt-stricken when she discovers that Miggs wrote to her years ago, and the letter was put aside and never opened, Beany becomes determined to find this old friend, and connect in time for their shared birthday. Imagine her surprise when she discovered that Miggs is now Catherine, the daughter of a wealthy oilman (rather than a modest salesman, as in days of yore), and that the Carmodys have moved back to Denver to live in the upscale Park Gate apartment building with their wealthy but manipulative cousin Helena. Will Beany be able to reconnect with Miggs, and with her mother Katie, once a second mother to Beany—one who saved her life as a baby? And what will come of Beany's new relationship with would-be mine engineer and newspaperman Hank Williams, an Oklahoma man who has a history with the Carmodys and with Helena Stearns...?
With one notable exception, I found Happy Birthday, Dear Beany—the seventh entry in Lenora Mattingly Weber's fourteen-volume Beany Malone series—quite enjoyable. As always, our heroine is endearing and sympathetic, and I entered fully into her feelings upon discovering the long-lost letter from Miggs, and realizing that their estrangement might be down to some of her own actions (or inactions), however inadvertent. Unlike Beany, I knew the process of becoming reacquainted wouldn't run smoothly, and I was engrossed in watching how that storyline unfolded. I also enjoyed seeing some of the series' secondary characters again, from Malone siblings and parents, to other friends, such as Dulcie, Rosellen and Sidney. Unfortunately, I was not as impressed by Beany's relationship with Hank Williams, and found the resolution of their disagreement—Beany misinterprets some of his actions, insults him multiple times, and is then shaken so roughly that she is left bruised and sore—completely incomprehensible. While Beany rightly apologizes for jumping to conclusions (albeit with the encouragement of Hank, who refuses to clarify his positions) and hurling insults, Hank does not apologize for assaulting Beany. This is treated as acceptable in the narrative, even though Hank's actions are the more serious, and could have had tragic consequences. I found this distasteful of course, but also confusing, as Weber's attitude to previous conflicts between her characters has been to have anyone apologize and make up. I'm not sure why this situation was different, especially given the more serious issue involved, but it did leave a bad taste in my mouth.
I would not say that this issue ruined the book for me, as I still found it mostly enjoyable, but it is certainly an odd and troubling element. In any case, I do plan to continue with the series—halfway done, now!—and would recommend this one to those who have read and enjoyed previous books about these characters....more
Beany Malone is back in this sixth entry in Lenora Mattingly Weber's fourteen-volume series devoted to her adolescent and young adult adventures with Beany Malone is back in this sixth entry in Lenora Mattingly Weber's fourteen-volume series devoted to her adolescent and young adult adventures with her family, and with her various beaus. Having now settled into an easy, somewhat carefree relationship with Andy Kern, Beany is startled when she hears from her old boyfriend Norbert Rhodes—her first love—and finds herself in all kinds of complicated situations when she agrees to keep his return to Denver a secret. She also finds herself in all kinds of hot water when she takes newcomer Dulcie Lungaarde, a carhop at the Ragged Robin who is a "more-thanner"—a young woman who does more than hold hands with boys—under her wing. Of course, this being a Beany Malone book, all of the hurt feelings, uncertainties and controversy are happily resolved by the end...
Although I certainly enjoyed reading Make a Wish for Me, and plan to continue on and finish the Beany Malone series, somehow this wasn't quite the equal of earlier books, in my estimation. Weber is as skilled as ever at depicting her young heroine's emotional ups and downs, and I particularly liked the way she captured Beany's conflicted feelings about Dulcie—sometimes angry at her protege and sometimes protective of her—as this felt quite realistic. I thought the exploration of the issue of young adults and their experimentation with physical affection—what was and wasn't permitted, the lines the young people themselves drew, in determining what was right—was very interesting, and opened a window into how this was viewed in the 1950s. It was amusing moreover, to see how Beany and her contemporaries compared themselves to the restrictive "old days" (the 1890s), as I suspect many current readers might do the same, when it comes to today and Beany's time. All this being said, I did find that there was a somewhat nasty undertone to this one, related to Dulcie—the way the boys and girls talk about her behind her back, for instance—that was unpleasant, even while being completely believable. The acceptance of the idea that it is the woman or girl who is morally responsible, if matters go too far, while no opprobrium is attached to the boy or man who was also involved, left a bad taste in my mouth. Again, this was realistic for the time period, but is distasteful all the same, and detracted from my enjoyment. Leaving that aside, this was still well worth reading, and is one I would recommend to those who have read and enjoyed the earlier books in the series....more
Beany Malone and her family are back in this fifth entry in author Lenora Mattingly Weber's fourteen-volume series devoted to her eponymous heroine's Beany Malone and her family are back in this fifth entry in author Lenora Mattingly Weber's fourteen-volume series devoted to her eponymous heroine's adventures, and changes are afoot! No longer going steady with Norbett Rhodes, who has decided to attend college in Ohio, Beany must also confront a significant development in her own family circle when her father announces that he is remarrying. Getting off to a bad start with her new stepmother Adair, Beany soon finds her home life is no longer the solace and stronghold it once was. At the same time she also finds that her social life at school has become more complicated, after getting herself involved with a secret society known as the Triple O, or "On Our Own." Mistakes pile upon misunderstandings, until it all feels like one big muddle. Fortunately, Beany does have true friends and family, and a good heart of her own to guide her...
Originally published in 1955, Beany Has a Secret Life is another engaging entry in Weber's series, capturing Beany's penchant for involving herself in trouble, and getting back out of its again thanks to the warmth and love of her family. I thought that many of the scenes between Beany and Adair were particularly well done, and captured the sense of anger, resentment and hurt that a child might feel when confronting a change at home, and an unexpected addition to the family. I particularly liked that Beany's knowledge that the initial fault lay with her didn't resolve the issue, and that she had to struggle for some time with her feelings, before conquering them, as I sometimes feel that Weber too easily resolves the emotional conflicts experienced by her characters. Of course, that tendency is still evident in the easy way the story around Maurine is resolved, and I wasn't really sure what to make of the idea that having secret societies—surely something quite common in childhood?—were seen as "vicious" and "un-American." It's clear that Weber had Communism on her mind in this part of the story, and while it didn't really make sense to me—there didn't seem to be anything political or even ideological about the group—I thought it opened a window into attitudes at that time, and was therefore fascinating. Recommended to those who have read and enjoyed previous entries in the Beany Malone series....more
A young woman named Queenie is awakened to a deeper understanding of her Christian faith, and of the meaning of Christ's sacrifice one Lent and EasterA young woman named Queenie is awakened to a deeper understanding of her Christian faith, and of the meaning of Christ's sacrifice one Lent and Easter season in this brief novella from 1896. Although orphaned at a young age, she was a child of great wealth and privilege, and her life was given over to parties and social gatherings. Then she encountered an impoverished Italian immigrant woman, driven to desperate acts by extreme poverty and hunger. Slowly Queenie's conscience was awakened, and in the process of providing for the dying Juliatti, she came to an understanding of how all people, regardless of background, were God's children. She also came to see that this, an awareness of the deeper currents of life and her role as a Christian, was something desirable, rather than something to be avoided...
Harriet A. (Anna) Cheever was a late-19th/early-20th-century American author who wrote primarily for children, producing both animal stories and Christian fiction. A Rescued Madonna appears to be aimed more at young adults than children—Queenie is said to be twenty—and was published by the Boston-based Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society. I found it an interesting read, and thought that the way in which the author worked the theme of the resurrection into the story, the way in which Christians are supposed in this season to be reborn as well, into a better and nobler life, one that strives for the good, and is to be perfected only in heaven, quite inspiring. I recently saw the film Cabrini, about the life of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, who began her work founding orphanages and hospitals in New York City, amongst the Italian immigrant community, so the theme of the despised Italian immigrant in Cheever's book was also of great interest. I was fascinated to see a contemporaneous treatment of the subject, one which argued for seeing these newcomers as fellow children of God. In the film, Mother Cabrini makes an impassioned speech at one point, about how Americans value many Italian cultural achievements, like the artwork produced by the Renaissance masters, but cannot seem to value Italian people, so the fact that the story here is based around a valuable portrait of the Madonna and Child, and that Queenie eventually sees a strong resemblance between Juliatti and the Madonna, was quite striking. One wonders whether there were other voices at this time, amongst the established American community, arguing for a more humane approach to the Italian immigrants.
The perspective here is very much of the Protestant Christian variety, and at one point Queenie worries quite a bit about the fact that Juliatti is more concerned with the Virgin Mary, than with praying to Jesus, but leaving aside those passages, there is a real ecumenical spirit here that was both interesting, and heartening to see. I wouldn't describe this as an outstanding book, really—it was engaging enough, more from the themes than the writing—but for those interested in vintage girls fare of a Christian variety, or in the depiction of Italian immigrants in American fiction of the late 19th century, it might be worth seeking out....more
We sometimes like to joke that there are two sorts of people where I work: the children's book people, and the teen book people. I am notorious for beWe sometimes like to joke that there are two sorts of people where I work: the children's book people, and the teen book people. I am notorious for being one of the former, and although I work in the field, I very rarely feel drawn to pick up contemporary young adult/teen titles. Apparently, I'm not particularly drawn to classic teen fiction either (with the notable exception of The Outsiders), because I had never happened to read The Catcher in the Rye, nor had I ever felt any impulse to do so. Then one day it was assigned to me in one of my courses for my masters degree in children's literature, in the unit on teen fiction, and I dutifully picked it up. I enjoyed it. Or perhaps I found it interesting in some way. One or the other.
I know that this must be so, because I awarded it three stars at that time, and if books annoy me in any significant way I tend to give them two stars. Books that offend me, whether aesthetically or morally, get a single star. Unfortunately, I didn't record my reaction to the book at the time - I wasn't reviewing very many books, while doing my masters - and I can't seem to find the notes I took. Being currently engaged in a lockdown project in which I rate and review all the books I read during that period, I went looking for those notes, to no avail. Without them, all I could dredge up from memory was the idea of a disaffected teen boy, some kind of prep school, New York City, and a little sister. No details. No recollections of how I felt reading it. No memories of our class discussion. I must have had something to say - one would be hard pressed to find a subject about which I didn't have something to say - but whatever it was, it is lost to me. I know that The Catcher in the Rye divides readers' opinions, with some loving it and others despising it, but my lack of memory suggests an indifference that speaks for itself. There's absolutely nothing at all wrong with EMO "finding yourself" narratives, the theme of rebellion against authority, or forbidden true love plots - they are all perfectly appropriate, from a developmental perspective, to the teenage years. I guess I'm just at the stage of life where I find it all rather boring. Or, maybe the book just isn't that interesting....more
Living on the island of Menos, at the Red Abbey - a religious community consisting solely of women and girls, one devoted to the worship of First MothLiving on the island of Menos, at the Red Abbey - a religious community consisting solely of women and girls, one devoted to the worship of First Mother, a sort of tripartite goddess figure - thirteen-year-old Maresi leads a life of safety and serenity. A life entirely separate from the outside world, and from men. Then, just as Maresi is ready to leave behind her role as a Novice, a traumatized young girl named Jai arrives on the island. Fleeing from a terrible situation, she brings danger with her, and when her past catches up with her, it brings terrible tragedy to the Abbey...
Originally published in Finland as Maresi: Krönikor från Röda klostret, this powerful young adult novel made quite an impression upon me when I read it a few years ago, and I raced through it, alternately entertained and horrified by the events of the story. The society in the Red Abbey is fascinating, as is the goddess-based religion that its residents practice. I was left wanting to know more about the history of both, by the end of the book. The scene in which one of the Sisters sacrifices herself, to spare the younger girls violation, was truly horrifying, even while it transfixed me. I read this when it was the only book in The Red Abbey Chronicles to be translated, but I see that subsequent titles have now been translated. I will have to revisit Maresi, in order to read the sequels! Highly recommended to readers of young adult fantasy fiction....more
Miss Charmian Euphemia Mulgrove, known as "Chum" to her friends, was the daughter of a prosperous British businessman, and lived a comfortable life atMiss Charmian Euphemia Mulgrove, known as "Chum" to her friends, was the daughter of a prosperous British businessman, and lived a comfortable life at Randall Court, the Tudor manor house her father had purchased from its aristocratic owner, Sir Guy. This same gentleman, in love with Charmian, had proposed marriage, but Chum was ambivalent about the idea. Then the storm of World War I broke upon them, and Charmian found her life quite changed. Guy was sent to fight in France, while Charmian became a chauffeuse, driving for a general at the War Office, and finding homes for Belgian refugees on her father's estate. During the winter of 1916/17, she too was sent to France, where she drove for the C.F.P.S. (the fictitious "Comforts for Private Soldiers" unit). Here she met the obnoxious American, Irene Langhorne, an early volunteer in the conflict, despite her nation's non-entry in the war, as well as the half-English Frenchman, René, Vicomte de Beaupré. What followed was a season of hardship and extraordinary experiences for Charmian, who wrote letters for men who had lost limbs, delivered supplies to troops in need, and even rescued an injured soldier, while under fire from the air. Throughout it all she was torn between Sir Guy and the Vicomte de Beaupré, both of whom had proposed. Would she learn her own heart, surrounded by all of this madness, and if she did, would her knowledge come too late...?
Having greatly enjoyed a number of Alice Wilson Fox's novels for children - Hearts and Coronets, A Dangerous Inheritance, The General's Choice - I was quite excited to pick up Charmian: Chauffeuse, which I would describe as an early twentieth-century young adult novel, and which I finally managed to track down in the rare book room of the university where I was studying at the time. Unfortunately, despite my predisposition to like it, given its interesting subject matter (a young woman driver during WWI!), and my fondness for some of its author's other work, I was mostly disappointed. I didn't find its eponymous heroine particularly appealing, in her own right, and I found the depiction of some of the other characters off-putting. One sometimes encounters a certain kind of sneering anti-Americanism in vintage British fiction, and while it usually doesn't bother me that much, the depiction of the figure of Irene here - the lampooning of her accent, Charmian's conclusion that she (and Americans in general) were "vulgar-minded" - was rather unpleasant. I suspect that my negative reaction was owing less to any extremity on Wilson Fox's part, when it comes to this theme - Charmian even concludes, toward the end of the book, that Irene wasn't "a bad-hearted little soul" - and more to it being so wholly unexpected, given the absence of such a feeling in the author's earlier A Dangerous Inheritance (1910), which featured an American heiress living with a British vicar's family. It's tempting to think that the difference in feeling between the two books, when it comes to the American characters, was owing to some sort of resentment on the part of Wilson Fox, to America's late entry into WWI, but it's impossible to really say.
However that may be, given my feeling of distaste at those moments involving Irene, and my general lack of emotional involvement in Charmian's story, despite finding the narrative engaging enough, I can't say I enjoyed this one as much as some of Wilson Fox's others. I subsequently had a similarly conflicted/indifferent reaction to the author's adult romance, Love In the Balance, which makes me wonder whether I simply prefer her children's fare to that she wrote for adults and older teens. In sum: this is one I would really only recommend to Alice Wilson Fox completists (are there any, besides myself?), and readers interested in British vintage fiction set during the First World War....more
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