Zilpha Keatley SnyderRezensionen

School is out and Neely and her brother, Grubb, have the days to themselves. Living the country area near Carmel, California, there could be a lot to do and explore.

Nearby was Halcyon House, built in 1910 by a Mr. Harold Hutchinson. A magnificent summer house to behold, but it has been empty for a good number of years. The house is rumoured to have a number o tragic stories about it and its owners. Fenced off from access, only Ruben Flores the watchman/caretaker lives on the premises with his watchdog Lion, a large mastiff who has run of the property when Ruben goes into town. Both are deterrents to trespassing, except to Neely and Grub. Grub had made friends with Lion a couple of years back and this gave them access to the property, unbeknownst to Ruben.

This summer Neely and Grub would gain access to the mansion and discover some of the secrets and history, true and false, of the house and the family.

Neely and Grub’s access went from secret to known when the current owners moved back and Neely becomes friends with Curtis, the owners’ son. Curtis is a boy of big boasts and mood swings. At one point Neely is warned to keep an eye on her young brother. It seems some of these stories do have truth to them.

As some of the stories come to light, there is a bit of a chill. There is also the magic of an earlier time in the house that the children learn of. A happier time.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder is an award winning children’s author with a long list of books. I’ve read a number of them and enjoyed them all.

Under review

Magic

All Gib ever wanted was to be adopted, but life with a family isn’t quite what he thought it would be. Gib was sent to an orphanage when he was six years old, and with each year, he knows it becomes less likely that he will be adopted into a loving family.

This is a ghost story and a character study of an adolescent girl (she's 12) acting all sullen and teenager-y. We see her through the eyes of her younger (he's 11) step-brother who is far more earnest, considerate, and mature. Amanda is what we would now call goth. She missed it by 20 years, but she would've been very into The Craft. When her parents divorce and she's forced to live with her mom's new husband and family, she is clearly unhappy but takes the opportunity to try to induct her new siblings into the occult. There is someone in the family who may have actual supernatural powers, but it's not Amanda.

One very cringe thing that happens in this book is that Amanda gets her little step-siblings to do what she wants by playing "slave and slavedriver." She plays at whipping them to get them do the gardening. Shudder.

Amanda is not the only interesting character in the book. Janie the talkative, dramatic 6yo is a hoot. The 4yo twins Blair and Tesser each have distinct personalities. The grown-ups feel quite real and nuanced. David, the POV character, is exactly what parents want their kids to be without being too good to be true. He observes Amanda carefully and her character is revealed through his observations.

I read this because Lemony Snicket praised it in [b:Poison for Breakfast|56769614|Poison for Breakfast|Lemony Snicket|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1613788183l/56769614._SY75_.jpg|59679665].

Zilpha Keatley Snyder's marvelous Green Sky Trilogy, begun in Below the Root and continued in And All Between, comes to a conclusion in this third and final installment of the story. Opening shortly after the events of the previous book, in which Uniforce returned to the Kindar in the form of the children Pomma and Teera, and the secret society of Geets-kel renounced their opposition to the Rejoyning of the Kindar and Erdling peoples, the story here kicks off as the leaders of Orbora are informed of the astonishing history that had been kept from them. All does not go quite as the Rejoyners hope however, and the book chronicles the first year after these revelations, as the Erdlings are released from their subterranean prison, and gradually join the above-ground Kindar world. The ongoing tensions between the two groups, and the challenges faced by those hoping for their integration—resistant factions on both the Kindar and Erdling sides, the seeming disappearance of Pomma and Teera, and the theft of the dangerous tool of violence—are chronicled, as events lead up to the Celebration—the one year anniversary of Green Sky's Rejoyning. Can Raamo and his friends triumph, and finally defeat the ancestral specter of violence their society was founded to escape from, and what price must they pay to do so...?

Although there are some flaws in Until the Celebration, as well as in The Green Sky Trilogy in general, I nevertheless enjoyed this conclusion to Snyder's story immensely. As with its predecessors, I found the world of the Kindar and Erdlings to be a fascinating one, appreciating all of the details regarding customs, rituals and beliefs, and the way these varied between the two groups. I thought Snyder did an excellent job depicting the disillusionment experienced by the Kindar, when some of the central tenets of their belief system—the evil nature of the Pash-shan, the infallibility and goodness of the Ol-zhaan—fell away. The way in which they subsequently latched on to the two children, Pomma and Teera, as figures with spiritual meaning, was astutely captured, revealing the way in which people need and desire symbols of hope and strength. Raamo's perceptive understanding that there is a danger in this veneration of the children may be proved correct in the end, but it also reinforces the original idea, that belief and ritual, especially of a spiritual and/or religious nature, is often necessary for peaceful and just societies. I was also greatly impressed by the storytelling decision Snyder made, in killing off her hero. Other great stories have flirted with the idea—a prime example being the Harry Potter books—but I think in general it is very unusual to see this outcome, in a work intended for children. Which isn't to say that children's fiction never addresses death, but when it does, it is usually the focus of the story, which tends to center around grief and loss. Here the focus is on sacrifice, even if done inadvertently, and I think it was a bold choice on Snyder's part. I have read that she regretted the end of this book, so it may be that she changed her mind after the fact, but in the telling, she clearly felt that sacrifice and loss were an essential part of her tale.

All of this being said, despite my great enjoyment of and appreciation for this series, I must admit that it suffers from some structural issues that prevent it from being quite as outstanding as it would otherwise have been. I think the trouble starts in the second book, And All Between, which covers much of the same material as in the first book, Below the Root. While I didn't dislike this "repetition" as much as some other online reviewers—I enjoyed seeing some of the same events from the Erdling perspective—given the fact that I found this third book somewhat rushed, covering too much in too few pages, I think that either this decision in the second book to go back and retell part of the story ought to have been reconsidered, or that this third book ought to have been expanded, and made into two books. There was simply too much going on here, and not enough attention paid to any of it, to truly satisfy. I also felt that the conclusion of the book was somehow off. Raamo's death, which should have been the climax of the story, was overshadowed by the return of Pomma and Teera. The latter also felt rushed, in and of itself, and I couldn't help feeling that the experiences of the two girls ought to have been its own storyline, within the book, rather than relayed briefly after the fact. Of course, despite these structural flaws, I do truly love this series as a whole, and consider the first book (Below the Root) practically perfect. Highly recommended to any younger (or older) reader who enjoys fantasy, science fiction, dystopian fiction, or just thoughtful, more philosophical fiction in general.

kept me in suspense, and about as good an ending as you could hope for

Opening in Erda, the underground civilization and home of the Erdlings, whose ancestors had been banished from the arboreal Kindar world high above, this second book in Zilpha Keatley Snyder's Green Sky Trilogy covers some of the same ground as its predecessor, Below the Root, but is told (at least at first) from the perspective of Teera, the little Erdling girl found on the forest floor by Raamo and D'ol Neric in the earlier book. Running away from home when her pet lapan, Haba, is threatened—it is a time of great food scarcity amongst the Erdlings, and pets are to be sacrificed to the people's hunger—Teera finds herself on an extraordinary journey, escaping through the magical root that imprisons her people, and eventually taken in by a Kindar family. As she learns about life in the treetops of Green-sky, and becomes close friends with Pomma, the daughter of the family with whom she now resides, Raamo, D'ol Neric, Genaa and D'ol Falla must decide what to do about the central dilemma uncovered in the previous book. Namely, the truth that the monstrous Pash-shan feared by the Kindar were none other than their brethren—the banished Kindar who had come to be Erdlings—and the question of how to reveal that truth to Kindar society. As Genaa and D'ol Neric set out on a mission to Erda, Raamo and D'ol Falla confront an even more terrible truth: some amongst the priestly Ol-zhaan are willing to use violence, even against children, to protect their secrets...

Judging from most of the reviews online, many readers find And All Between a somewhat unsatisfactory sequel to Below the Root, chiefly because its first half is devoted to a recap of what occurred in that earlier book. While I can certainly see why some would think this title suffered from "Middle Book Syndrome," and while I didn't love it quite as much as the first book, for my part I nevertheless found it an immensely enjoyable continuation of the story. It's true that there is less narrative excitement and suspense in the first half, as we already know what is going to happen. That being said, the exploration of life in Erda was fascinating, just as the exploration of life amongst the Kindar in the first book was so engrossing. The more emotional nature of the Erdlings, the way in which they governed themselves, the way their families were structured—all of it was very interesting to me, both the first time I read this book, some years ago, and now, upon this reread. The second half of the book was more gripping, as it advanced the overall story, and I found myself on the edge of my seat on more than one occasion. The conclusion, in which the much revered uniforce reappears in the world of Green-sky as a result of the bond between Teera and Pomma, as the result of an Erdling and Kindar child working together, points the way to developments in the third and final book. All in all, although I do agree that there are some structural issues with the Green Sky Trilogy overall (something I will discuss in my review of the third book), I think this is a worthy follow-up and second title. I enjoyed reading it, and (much as with it predecessor) found the accompanying artwork from illustrator Alton Raible (who worked on the entire trilogy) just lovely. Recommended to anyone who has read and enjoyed the first book.

I picked up a copy from a Little Free Library, I read and enjoyed a few of her books as a kid but I had not heard of this one. It was not as successful as others. I'll leave aside the highly dated dog-eat-dog world of raising and teaching children in 1936 (let the bully beat him up, it will be good for him) and mostly complain that I never really connected with the two main characters, Amy and Jason. I expected Amy to be the thoughtful dreamer kid with the wild imagination and she just didn't turn out that way. Jason was just shown to be really strange, not much reason given, then it all just ended. I may go back to The Egypt Game instead.

Having passed an idyllic childhood in the treetop city or Orbora, the greatest of the seven cities of Green-sky, Raamo considered himself an ordinary Kindar. So it was with astonishment that he learned, at age thirteen, that he had been selected as one of the Chosen—one of only two Kindar children picked each year—destined to become a member of the priestly Ol-zhaan. This surprise was as nothing, however, when he learned from a young Ol-zhaan novitiate named Dol'Neric that all was not well within the order, and within Green-sky in general. For the Spirit skills, long the glory of the Kindar, were waning amongst the people; and the enchanted vine known as Wissenroot, which covered the forest floor far below their arboreal civilization, keeping the monstrous underground Pash-shan at bay, was fading. What could Raamo and Neric do about these great evils? Would they be able to discover what role the mysterious Ol-zhaan secret society known as the Geets-kel had to play in all this, and would Genaa, Raamo's fellow Chosen that year, be an ally or an enemy...?

The first of author Zilpha Keatley Snyder's Green Sky Trilogy—subsequent titles are And All Between and Until the Celebration—Below the Root was first published in 1975, and originated in the imaginative play of two characters in her prior non-fantasy children's novel, The Changeling. The "Green Sky" game played by Martha and Ivy, in that earlier book (published in 1970), also concerned an arboreal civilization beset by evil monsters, and was clearly the seed from which the fully fantastic trilogy grew. While there are key differences between the made-up "Green Sky" of The Changeling and the "real" one in the trilogy, and while it is by no means necessary to have read that earlier book to appreciate the trilogy, I find the connections immensely meaningful, as the earlier book is one of my favorites of all time, and is one I read and reread as a girl. How unfortunate that I did not know of this series at that time, or it might also have been a childhood favorite! It's interesting to note that many other readers discovering this series for the first time as adults approach it through the lens of having played the Below the Root video game, which featured an adventure written by Zilpha Keatley Snyder herself, and which is considered part of Green Sky canon.

Leaving all of that aside, this is an immensely engaging and deeply moving work of fantasy/science fiction for young readers. I have read it once before, but recently reread it, for a group read of the series that I am conducting with friends, and it certainly stood the test of time, and the trial of a reread. I love pretty much everything about it, from the world building—the arboreal life of the Kindar is so magical, and the songs and rituals they use to promote peace and joy within themselves and their society, so beautiful—to the vocabulary and the way it is introduced—sometimes Snyder will explain what a word means, but sometimes she will let the reader figure it out—to the emotional depth of the characters—particularly Raamo's self-reflection and Genaa's deeply buried and unexpressed sorrow and rage at the death of her father at the hands of the Pash-shan—to the story itself. The idea of creating a human civilization free of violence is intriguing, as is the sorrow of discovering that utopias are so frequently built using far from utopian means. I have seen this compared to more contemporary works of dystopian fiction, such as The Hunger Games and Divergent, but of course this came far before those works, and was quite groundbreaking in its day. It differs from such stories in this key regard, which only raises my esteem for it: namely, that it understands the central role of religion to all human societies, and it explores the beauty and power of such belief systems for the believer, as well as the all-too-frequent corruption of those who are in charge of such systems.

Although written in the 1970s, and a product of its time in many ways—the peace and joy and love of the Kindar civilization feels like the fulfillment of the hippie dream, in some sense—in other ways it feels oddly current. I was struck, during this reread, by the parallels between the Kindar civilization and social and political progressives in the western world in this present day. The way in which they both structure their beliefs around ideas of care, benevolence, the avoidance of causing harm; and the way both are built on the suppression of those who have expressed disagreement with them, the ways in which those others are demonized and made into monsters. The parallel truly astonished me, as I read how the Pash-shan haunted the dreams of Raamo and his Kindar brethren, and then thought of the many people I have encountered in this day and age, who are so constantly fixated upon those with whom they disagree, those whom they revile and fear.

As if this strength of storytelling—the ideas expressed and explored, the beautiful language of the text itself, the engrossing character studies, the fascinating world-building—weren't enough, this book is also greatly improved by the gorgeous artwork of illustrator Alton Raible. I understand that many paperback and ebook editions of this title are lacking these beautifully intricate pencil drawings, and that is a great shame, for they add to and complement the sense of magic and mystery to be found throughout. Raible worked on eleven of Zilpha Keatley Snyder's books, and his artwork is always worth looking at, poring over, and enjoying. It's a shame that he doesn't seem to have done any other work within the book world, but the drawings he did for Snyder are certainly an impressive body of work! It's well worth seeking out the original edition of this book, for the sake of this artwork.

In any case, to offer such wonderful storytelling, and to have such powerful social and intellectual relevance, almost fifty years after its publication, speaks to this book's staying power, and to its brilliance. I highly recommend it to any young (or older) reader who enjoys fantasy, science fiction, dystopian fiction, or just thoughtful fiction in general. For my part, I cannot wait to reread the next installment of the series.

Neighborhood kids get together and start playing at being Egyptian, but things don't go as smoothly as they'd planned.

Okay, I'll admit it, this was cute, but not cutesy. The children act like children. Definitely can be an adult read.½

I can't remember when I read this, but what I did remember was the dramatic Egyptian-inspired funeral for a small dead pet (I didn't remember what), including the illustration--and I'm impressed how good my memory of that illustration was.

What I definitely did not remember was how racially diverse this book was and how many quite realistic childhood/adult relationships are addressed. This must have been a pretty progressive book for 1967, when it was written: in a California college town, a white girl and a black girl become best friends and also befriend Chinese and Japanese American kids, the latter of whom is described as an "all-American boy". Okay, actually it was "all-American oriental boy"--the very dated word made me cringe--but at the same time, a Japanese American kid is being called "all-American" just 20 years after the US interned Japanese Americans during World War II. What is that if not progress, for the time?

The book definitely has problematic elements for today, but it seems like they're small enough that they could be revised. I haven't yet read the recent revised version of A Cricket in Times Square, but I do like the idea of bringing the language up to date--it would be much easier here in The Egypt Game.

Anyway, plot summary:

April moves in with her grandmother (who has had to sell her lovely one-bedroom to buy a less beautiful two-bedroom to make this work) with a promise from her aspiring-actress mom that it will only be fore a few weeks. April's a bit awkward from having grown up in an emotionally neglected Hollywood life, but kind-hearted Melanie still manages to connect with her over their shared active imaginations and fascination with ancient Egypt. With Melanie's younger brother, Marshall, and his stuffed octopus named "Security", in tow, they find a vacant lot behind they thrift shop run by a mysterious man known as "the Professor" (who has a scary reputation, though no one can remember why) and decide it's the perfect place to pretend to be Egyptian high priestesses, with Marshall as a young pharaoh. They set up a "temple" to Isis and Set and create elaborate ceremonies. School starts with no word from April's mom, but April and Melanie recruit younger, Chinese-American Elizabeth, who recently moved into the building with mother and two younger sisters. A child serial killer strikes and parents keep the kids inside, but they use the time to create elaborate costumes first for Halloween, and then for ongoing use. On Halloween night, they sneak away from trick-or-treating only to be caught by two "cool" boys in their grade who they worry will "fink" on them (the slang, which appears much more when the boys join the group, is hilariously dated)...but it turns out that Toby is as imaginative and creative as the girls, and Ken is a good enough sport to (hilariously reluctantly) go along for the ride. In addition to the already-mentioned funeral for and attempted mummification of Elizabeth's ex-parot (parakeet), the kids conduct a ritual to ask an oracle for advice...and are freaked out when they start getting answers. One night, while she's babysitting Marshall, April sneaks back to Egypt to retrieve a lost textbook and is caught by the child-killer. Only the Professor's timely intervention saves the day. All's well that ends well: the killer is sent to a mental hospital; April decides to stay with her grandmother for Christmas instead of joining a mom who only then remembered she had a daughter; the Professor confesses that watching the kids' fun has inspired him to a) give them keys to his backyard, b) get out in the world to acquire things for his shop; and c) hire Elizabeth's mom to run his shop while he's gone.

The Egypt Game is more than just fun and games: the kids deal with imperfect parents (April's absent mom, Toby's dad more interested in art than in his child's welfare), scary happenings in the wider world (the child-killer), people they don't understand (the Professor), kids of different ages with different strengths (imagination, observation, persuasion, moral support), people who don't always make sense to others (April, Marshall, and the Professor),

I'm sure other people have enumerated the reasons why this book is offensive: some words used to describe Elizabeth, Ken, and Melanie physically; the fact that the Professor's wife was "killed by the people she was trying to help", who were tribes in an unspecified place; and the way boys and girls are annoyed by each other just because they're boys and girls. (This may still be true in the playground, but I think books these days try to pretend it's not.) You can see Snyder trying to be inclusive, and maybe she was successful at the time. Sadly, it's a bit dated these days.

The Egypt Game has been banned for pagan worship/worshiping false gods. I've also seen in GR reviews that people object to kids playing with fire (part of why the Professor kept an eye on the kids), and to the serial killer element. Yeah, I think the story would have been just fine without the serial killer...but really, kids are being gunned down in classrooms, so I think they can handle a fictional serial killer.

I think what I liked best about The Egypt Game was how seriously it took the childrens' lives and concerns. I've noticed in some of the books for younger readers that I've read that there's a tendency to make things seem either too easy or too awful and oppressive. The Egypt Game found a nice balance, where kids can worry about killers but still want to go outside, be mad at their parents but happy with their friends, sad to lose something they love but excited to look forward to what might come next. Yes, adults would probably smile at some of the concerns that seem small--Melanie's sneaky theft of April's false eyelashes to help her fit in at school, the boys' and girls' insistence on only "accidentally" running into each other at school, Marshall's devotion to Security--but Snyder takes them as seriously as they deserve, given the small scope of the kids' lives.

This really is an excellent book. While disclaimers and discussions about what's out of date should go along with the talk about why we're fascinated by ancient Egypt and how adults aren't perfect, I'd still recommend it to kids.

Quotes & Notes

p. 48) [Set] was more than evil, and at times a lot more than Egyptian. For instance, at different times, his wicked tricks included everything from atomic ray guns to sulfur and brimstone. But, actually, that was the way with all of the Egypt Game. Nobody ever planned it ahead, at least, not very far. Ideas began and grew and afterwards it was hard to remember just how. That was one of the mysterious and fascinating things about it.
This book made me so nostalgic for all the games I used to play, either alone, with my sisters, or with a few friends. Some are downright cringe-worthy now, but they were so much fun!

p. 63) Mr. Bodler, the apartment building's janitor, creepily stands behind Melanie and April when they go to pick up Elizabeth on her first day of school. I was so sure he was the child killer. But then, maybe that just goes to show that it's not always the people you'd expect. Actually, I just have no idea why this creep is in this story at all.

p. 74) Some people accuse the Professor of being the child killer, though they have no particular reason:
The fact that the Professor sold old and cheap some of the things that Mr. Schmitt [who owned a general store] sold new and expensive was worth thinking about; but it didn't really prove anything one way or another.
I see you Snyder, commenting on dirty tricks to force the competition out of business. And pointing out that adults can be pretty mean for their own reasons.

p. 80-81) I really loved the PTA moms who all volunteered their husbands to chaperone kids on Halloween. Adults would really get some chuckles out of that.

p. 95) Melanie's parents are a source of wisdom about social justice: they're the ones who explain that a criminal might not be evil but might be mentally ill and need help, and they've attended a demonstration with Melanie and Marshall (though the demonstration was apparently for "things like Peace and Freedom" instead of, you know, civil rights, as would have been realistic for the time (unless Melanie doesn't mention civil rights to avoid making her white friend uncomfortable)).

p. 92-93) I do appreciate that Snyder keeps April and Melanie in the "boys are gross" stage instead of making them have crushes and stuff. Not every story needs romance!

p. 106) "Maybe we ought to tell the FBI [about Egypt]."
I do not buy for a minute that a Japanese-American boy would even joke about calling the FBI when his parents probably remembered being in concentration camps.

p. 115-116) Toby humorously recounts how his dad, an artist, made him an elaborate "statement piece" costume for Halloween and then got furious when Toby ruined it. Toby plays it for laughs, but I couldn't help feeling a little sad--his dad didn't ask him if he was okay, and his attitude reminded me of parents who want their children to be Instagram-worthy all the time.

p. 139-140) May I just say, I laughed out loud at Petey the parakeet's mummification process. But if you're sensitive about animals, you'll probably be appalled (even though Petey was dead of cat-causes before anything was done to him.)

“Know all the Questions, but not the Answers
Look for the Different, instead of the Same
Never Walk where there's room for Running
Don't do anything that can't be a Game”
― Zilpha Keatley Snyder, The Changeling

Just..one of the best. What a writer! The Changeling remains, along with "The Velvet room", another one by this author, one of my all time faves.

Have you ever felt like a "Changeling"? Did you feel like when in childhood? Even for a moment? I think most of us have.

In the case of Ivy and Martha..WELL..I am not going to say! This book is a celebration of Martha, of Ivy and all the Changelings here, there and everywhere.

It is worth noting, if you missed this one in childhood no matter. I did a reread recently..the person who had it before me had written in the book "This is a good book!". I do not even know that person.

So then I reread, loaned it to a friend and she loved it too.

The Changeling transcends age and time. Will always be a classic.

“There was that special smell made up of paper, ink, and dust; the busy hush; the endless luxury of thousands of unread books. Best of all was the eager itch of anticipation as you went out the door with your arms loaded down with books.”
― Zilpha Keatley Snyder, The Velvet Room

I am so glad to see this book rated so highly on good reads.

I never forgot The Velvet room. I read it in my early years and it was, along with a precious few others, a favorite from childhood.

I understood Robin with her passion for reading and the way she fell in love with the Velvet room so much, and how it became her sanctuary.

This book, along with "The Changeling", one of the other works from this writer, remaining two very precious books on my forever favorites list.

The velvet room is a beautiful book that should be read in everyone’s childhood and if, as an adult you realize you missed it, don’t hesitate to pick up a copy as Robin and her velvet room will enthrall you½

This is not a book about a changeling. The book is deliberately misleading, and readers find out why towards the end. I'm okay with this. I read this book when I was eight or nine, and marveled at it. More than twenty years later, I picked it up again. I was curious to learn if it would have the same effect on me. I had forgotten a lot of it, actually. The story is about the friendship between Martha and Ivy. Martha comes from a family with high expectations, high achievers, and strict gender roles. As a child, she is chubby, cries a lot and doesn't like being a Girl Scout. She does not feel a sense of belonging in her own family. Ivy is a respite from all that. She, too, is a misfit in her own family. Creative, imaginative, confident and daring, she is nonetheless constrained by her family's circumstances. They're often on the run from the law, but come back to Martha's town every two years. They own a house there. Ivy's mom is an alcoholic. Her dad has a ton of bad luck in life. Her siblings are following in her parents' footsteps. Ivy's rich imagination helps her cope. Her friendship with Martha helps both girls immensely. Much of the book is dedicated to the games of make believe Ivy and Martha immerse themselves in. This takes a wonderful turn into them doing theater and dance in middle school. And then the plot shows up in the form of the antagonist, Kelly. Regina George is a descendant of hers, in movie form. My heart warmed at how Tom, Martha's star quarterback brother, stood up for his sister and was rightfully cold to Kelly. This was near the book's end, and I welcomed it. I laughed at some of it, delighted. The actual ending was predictable in some ways. I'm glad I read it as an adult now.

Dion James is being raised by his father, living in the old family home. His dad gives music lessons and rents out rooms to local students and a family to provide income.

Besides going to school, Dion has a shoeshine stand outside Alcott-Simpson’s Department Store. It is a posh store that carries pretty much everything and elegantly covers a city block. It is a place Dion has been enamoured of since about age 8 or 9. He enjoys walking through the store and has made friends among the clerks.

Dion notices that the atmosphere of Alcott-Simpson has changed; something strange is going on. When he notices a dark haired girl in the store, who appears to be about his age, he wants to know her. He learns her name is Sara and they do develop a bit of a friendship, but there is a strange part of it, she cannot leave the store! There are also the “Others” that she talks of. Are the “Others” part of the reason there are less and less customers coming to the store?

When Dion learns that Sara may be leaving the store, he becomes determined not to lose her. He is willing to go to any lengths to keep her in his life.

This story has a fantasy side to the real life side. Through it Dion learns much about himself and also his relationship with his father. The characters learning more about themselves is a frequent theme in Zilpha Keatley Snyder’s books. A good combination in a story line for all ages.

April Hale, who prefers being called April Dawn, has been sent to live with her grandmother, a person she hardly knows. April’s mother was in show business and things were a bit too busy. It was to be only for a “short time” and then April would move back to Hollywood.

April wasn’t happy about being in a new place. She has no friends and she sees that she the kids around her have nothing in common. That is until she meets Melanie Ross from downstairs. It seems both girls are fascinated about ancient Egypt. They also like imagination games. When the girls discover a vacant, hidden yard, the idea of the Egypt Game comes alive.

The girls make new friends when a few of the other kids learn about the Egypt Game. Interest in reading up about ancient Egypt creates a bond between some unlikely friends. They also learn about the importance of friendship and caring for each other regardless of their backgrounds.

The characters are well developed and believable. Zilpha Keatley Snyder is a solid writer in plot, characters and tempo. I’ve read a number of her books and never been disappointed.

Average story of a newly-blended family and the baggage one of the children brings to the mix. Not sure why this was a Newbery honor book, unless the occult practices described throughout was considered edgy for its time and deserving of the award.

All-around family cookbook.

Eleven-year-old Libby struggles to fit in with her accelerated eighth grade program, placed there by her bizarre and creative family.

Realistic fiction with hints of fantasy. A middle-schooler whose father has a serious cardiac problem escapes to her writing to cope with the stresses of her life. There is very little peril or truly negative behavior; the protagonist experiences the ups and downs of friendship, and her mom works for the book's one mean character, who we never actually see in action. The animal characters are well done.
Not as engrossing as I recall The Egypt Game being when I read it in grade school.

A book from a bygone era, written in 1965, this a classic piece of tween literature set in the aftermath of the Great Depression, during the Dust Bowl era in California. The itinerant Williams family is jammed in their Model T trying to find work when they crash. Luckily, they find the chance to work on the local fruit orchard, picking/pitting apricots. The main character is the 12-year old daughter, Robin, who tends to wander off, discovering an abandoned mansion on the property. Robin is a likable character, befriending an old woman mysterious named Bridget, with her "family" of pets, including a cat, raccoon, birds, and a goat. Bridget senses a yearning in Robin, and gives her a mysterious key that ultimately leads to the Velvet Room, a sanctuary from the harsh realities of her life. The wealthy daughter of the property owning McCurdy family befriends Robin and they develop a true friendship. The story is poignant, with an underlying message that Robin must learn to stop hiding and learn to appreciate the good things she has in her life, such as family and friends.

A kid's chapter book that harkens back to a time when kids used their imaginations to play games, rather than a program and game player. An 11-year old girl is sent to live with her grandma and she and a neighbor (and the neighbor's little brother) stage an elaborate game with costumes pretending they are in ancient Egypt. A young kid is found murdered and suspicion falls on the oddball store owner where they've been playing. Not really for adults.

As a child like the characters in this book I was fascinated by Egypt, reading everything I could, making up my own hieroglyph name. There is the death of a child that happens off page of someone we don't know. I saw pretty much where the story was going. However it made me nostalgic for my childhood Egypt phase.½

In The Egypt Game, six children - five sixth-graders and one younger brother - discover a secret place behind an antiques/junk store and make it their own. But their northern California neighborhood is menaced by a murderer who targets children.

April is white and has been sent to live with her grandmother; Melanie and Marshall are Black; Elizabeth is Asian; and Toby and Ken are white.

See also: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E.L. Konigsburg, One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia, Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

Quotes

"Many things are possible." (the Professor to April, 21)

"None of my friends know how to play imagining games the way you do...I like imagining games better than anything." (Melanie to April, 32)

"Dad says being a baby offended Marshall's dignity."
"Heck, I guess everybody has something they're not very grown-up about." (Melanie and April, 58)

It seemed that sixth grade boys just normally kept a lot of things around that were perfect for the altar of an evil god. (123)

...wasn't that like a boy. They got things into a mess and then expected a girl to get them out of it. (Melanie and April, 170)

...and when they were through, they all stood and looked at the temple that they had made themselves, out of ordinary stuff and their own imaginations, and felt - well, maybe a little like Dr. Frankenstein had when he created the monster. (174-175)

Being scared to do something had always made April more determined to do it than ever. (180)

Imagination is a great thing in long dull hours, but it's a real curse in a dark alley, and April's imagination had always been out of the ordinary. (181)

It had been a terrific game, full of excitement and mystery and way-out imagining, but it had been a great deal more than that. (197)

[April]...felt around inside herself for reactions. She found some, all right, both good and bad; but not nearly as much either way as she would have expected. (202)

"It's just awful when you go back to something that was so great the way you remembered it and it's no good any more. It even ruins remembering." (214)½