I admire this book very much, and find that the thing giving some folks pause is the thing that, for me, elevates it beyond engaging to distinguished.

I concur that there is a palpable dissonance between the content and the narrative tone. But shouldn’t there be? This is a book about two young girls trying desperately to convince themselves that they’re doing just fine, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. They know it’s a house of cards and yet they’re putting everything they have into maintaining the illusion, for themselves as much as for the powers that be. To me the earnestness of the narrative echoes Stella’s dreams for a safe and regular life. Sure, it strikes a somewhat discomfiting chord with the situations unfolding. That, for me, is its genius. And those chords, however dissonant, to my ear are perfectly in tune.

I wonder to what degree we’re reacting to the cover art. I do believe that the cover promises a book very different from the book we get. Maybe that’s intentional, making convenient promises of security and happiness that the story will challenge repeatedly. But would the tone of the book feel quite so jarring if we began with a cover closer in tone to something like Pictures of Hollis Woods or Alabama Moon? I think that I wouldn’t have had to work so hard to reconcile the tone and the content had the cover suggested something with more grit and fewer pastels. That said, I enjoy a little heavy lifting with my reading, and would be willing to call it “respect for a child audience” any day of the week.

Thanks for the conversation. Thinking about the book in response to others’ concerns really helped me to clarify my own thoughts.

Thom

I haven’t read S&G but have read LIAR AND SPY, and the latter felt forced and contrived compared to Gypsy Moths. To me it’s like looking at art work. For example, when I look at a pencil or pen and ink drawing, I might be captivated by the quality of the lines, the action implied in a stroke, the sheer skill of the artist who makes it seem effortless. Another drawing might be rendered meticulously and be quite worthwhile but is lacking in that special “look” that attracts me and which I admire. To me, Gypsy Moths has that quality in the writing.

Many people seem hung up on this book being realistic fiction but implausible. I found the events totally within the realm of possibility. Too many adults seem to have forgotten what childhood is like. Admittedly, I grew up a long time ago, when my parents had no clue what I was doing for large portions of each day. And I know my grand kids are closely supervised 99% of the time. However, in many families children are not monitored constantly, and these kids learn to be quick witted and independent. They also learn to lie extremely well especially if they feel threatened.

The other side of this coin is how obtuse the adults appear in this book. First of all, adults often are oblivious. Anyone who has been a parent should be willing to admit that we are not all-seeing and all-knowing. In addition, the girls are only alone for four weeks, and their situation is almost discovered several times. Why would anyone have suspected that the two girls were lying? Adult readers may think they’d have realized what these kids were up to, or noticed that something was wrong. But I think Stella and Angel would have fooled the best of us.

So, Sondy, don’t be sad. I agree with you. Pennypacker’s characters carry the wild plot very well indeed.

I do have to say that hearing other people’s analyses of my personal favorites has made me much much less indignant when my favorites aren’t up there on the podium. I thought Pennypacker carried off the outrageousness of the plot with her characters, but clearly that’s not universal opinion.

But comparing it directly to SotGM, I admit the writing of S&G does seem on another level. Though I don’t remember SotGM having as many of those problematic sections. Some questionable believability? Okay.

And it does remain that I will much more enthusiastically recommend SotGM to library patrons – though I realize that’s not involved in the Newbery criteria.

Check out what did.

http://www.slj.com/2012/11/featured/best-books-2012/

In A LITTLE PRINCESS, for example, we spend time in the head of the monkey. We spend time in the head of the Indian servant. We spend time in the head of Sarah’s father. And yes, with Miss Minchin — and her sister! And in the head of the kind woman at the bakery. And in Ermintrude’s head, and in the some of the other girls at the orphanage. And of course, we spend the most time in Sarah’s head. But you should not think of any of this as “point of view” shifts. This is the author telling you the story, and the author is God when using omniscient voice, and God knows what everybody is thinking and feeling, and tells you whatever she wants to tell you, whenever she wants to tell it.

Another great Newbery example of omniscient narration is of course THE WESTING GAME. (Where, again, you will find the author telling us what some adults are thinking and feeling, too.)

I don’t know — The sentence-level writing of S&G is beautiful, and it’s unquestionably a well-written book, but I’d need some convincing that the plot couldn’t be done better. I guess I’m trying to say there was a reason some of us found it on the boring side. You can talk about what you like or don’t like, but a whole lot of that is based on the craft of the book.

As far as child audience, has anyone out there tried it out with actual kids? (And I’m asking that more from the perspective of the Cybils, which do consider child appeal, than the Newbery.)