RAMONA QUIMBY, AGE 8 by Beverly Cleary (1981)

Illustrated by Alan Tiegreen. Morrow Junior Books; 190 pages; comedy/drama; ages 8-12; ISBN: 0-688-00478-4.

Everyone's favorite precocious little sister is back in Ramona Quimby, Age 8. In this installment Ramona is entering the third grade, where she makes enemies with a boy named Danny, whom she calls "Yard Ape," accidentally smashes a raw, not hard-boiled, egg against her head ("... she found herself with a handful of crumbled shell and something cool and slimy running down her face"), and throws up in Mrs. Whaley's classroom ("Ramona had never felt worse in her whole life").

Meanwhile, Ramona and her big sister, Beezus, are forced to cook dinner for the family after they complain about the dinner they've been served by their parents (in Age 8 Mr. Quimby has gone back to school to become an art teacher, and Mrs. Quimby is working as a receptionist at a doctor's office).

I always looked forward to reading Beverly Cleary's Ramona books when I was in grade school, and I have no doubt they're still popular among the single-digit set. Ramona could be a brat at times, but so could I, and books like Cleary's taught me about empathy before I knew what the word meant. Who wouldn't feel for someone who throws up in front of the entire class? Cleary's easy-flowing, charismatic prose remains timeless.

Winner of a 1982 Newbery Honor Book award. For further reading, check out Cleary's other Newbery Honor Book winner, Ramona and Her Father (1977).

WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams (1972)

Scribner/Simon & Schuster; 474 pages; fantasy; ages 13 and up; ISBN: 978-0-7432-7770-9.

Fiver is a rabbit who has visions of the future, and one day he has a vision of his home being destroyed. Home, in this case, is a warren, or network of interconnected rabbit holes, which Fiver shares with his big brother, Hazel, and other rabbits as part of a distinct social order. Hazel and a band of fellow rabbits heed Fiver's vision and escape from the warren before it's bulldozed by land developers, but now they must find a new home, hoping that Fiver's vision of a "high place" can be reached with all of their numbers intact. On their journey they must evade predators, including hombas, or foxes, and deal with other wild rabbits outside of their clan. It all adds up to one unforgettable story.

I wasn't eager to read Watership Down when it was assigned in eighth grade — 474 pages about rabbits?! — but by the middle of Richard Adams's epic tale I was enthralled, praying that Hazel and Fiver would reach their destination. And after seeing the Lord of the Rings movies a decade later, I thought, "Those were fine, but they're no Watership Down." Adams does a mind-boggling job of world building, providing his rabbits with their own culture, folk tales, and language; there's even a glossary of lapine terminology at the back of the book. For reluctant readers who like to be told a gripping story but aren't intrigued by fantasy yarns of the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson ilk, I'd highly recommend Watership Down. You'll never look at rabbits the same way again (not English natives, anyway).

For further reading, check out Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien (1971), winner of the 1972 Newbery Medal.

BLOOD TIDE: A NEVER LAND BOOK by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson (2008)

Illustrated by Greg Call. Disney Editions; 148 pages; adventure/fantasy; ages 8-12; ISBN: 978-078683791-5.

After an earthquake unsettles the occupants of Never Land Island, James, one of the Lost Boys, notices that the water in the lagoon now has a reddish tint instead of its usual blue. Moments later the boys are attacked by mermaids, who have been a peaceful species until now. Later they attack members of the Mollusk tribe, who feel they have no choice but to retaliate. Meanwhile, a barrel has washed ashore and been confiscated by Captain Hook and his men, who may or may not be trying to wipe out both the mermaids and the Mollusk tribe by triggering a war.

I grew up reading Dave Barry's syndicated humor columns in the local newspaper, but he's obviously flexing different muscles here. (Same for Pearson, who's mainly known as a crime fiction writer. Together he and Barry make one Carl Hiaasen, I suppose.) Barry always talked about how his job as a humor columnist afforded him the chance to not grow up and be a mature adult, so a Peter Pan spin-off series would seem right up his alley, and Blood Tide provides a sufficient number of junior thrills and chills. The book's environmental message also puts it in league with Hoot and Flush, Hiaasen's books for young readers.

For further reading, check out the first two books in Barry and Pearson's "Never Land" series, Escape From the Carnivale (2006) and Cave of the Dark Wind (2007).

FRED: THE MOVIE (Nickelodeon, 2010)

Directed by Clay Weiner; teleplay by David A. Goodman; 80 minutes; comedy; ages 6-12.

Fred Figglehorn is an awkward—I repeat, awkward—teenager who's obsessed with Judy, his beautiful, blonde, and inexplicably British next-door neighbor. Despite the fact that she lives one house down, Fred can't work up the courage to knock on her door, partly because he's afraid of getting beat up by Kevin, the bully across the street who also has a crush on Judy. Finally, Fred uses a disguise to get past Kevin and up to Judy's door, only to discover that her family has moved. But where? At the insistence of his imaginary dad, played by WWE wrestler John Cena, Fred goes on a quest to find his "girlfriend."

Although Fred is technically a teenager, he's played by Lucas Cruikshank (who originally created the character for a series of YouTube videos) as if he's a hyperactive six-year-old, which is probably the average age of Fred's most ardent admirers. They're the ones who are most likely to appreciate his near-constant screaming and childish tantrums, though Cruikshank provides genuine laughs in a dual role as Derf, a stoic, monotone teen Fred meets on the bus—in other words, he's Fred's exact opposite. Saturday Night Live veteran Siobhan Fallon is also good as Fred's exhausted mom, and Jake Weary has impressive comic timing as Kevin, so the movie's not a complete wash for adults, but if you have kids who want to run Fred: The Movie on a constant loop, it's going to wear out its welcome sooner rather than later.

For further viewing, check out Tim Burton's directorial debut, Pee-wee's Big Adventure (1985), whose title character's extreme man-child personality may not appeal to everyone, but at least he's surrounded by lots of great jokes and sight gags.

THE MASTER OF DISGUISE (Columbia Pictures, 2002)

Directed by Perry Andelin Blake; screenplay by Dana Carvey and Harris Goldberg; 80 minutes; comedy; MPAA rating: PG ("for mild language and some crude humor," but appropriate for ages 7-12, if you ask me).

Pistachio Disguisey is a put-upon waiter in his family's Italian restaurant, unaware that his father and grandfather and so on are retired Masters of Disguise. When his father, Fabbrizio, is kidnapped by an evil rich dude who forces Fabbrizio to steal priceless artifacts like the U.S. Constitution so Bowman can later sell them to the highest bidder, Pistachio is called into action by his grandfather, who teaches him the ancient family art of disguise. He'll need an assistant if he's going to locate his father, though, so Pistachio hires Jennifer, a single mom whose grade-school son has taken a shine to Pistachio.

The Master of Disguise is rated PG, but it contains a few smutty sex jokes that are out of place among the constant barrage of silly voices and costumes deployed by star Dana Carvey, who reportedly came up with the idea for the film because he wanted to make a movie his kids could watch. Sadly, The Master of Disguise fails to entertain on almost every level, with Carvey, who was so good at playing all kinds of characters and doing various impressions on Saturday Night Live from 1986 to '93, a pale imitation of his former self. (Heck, Fred: The Movie's a masterpiece compared to this turkey!)

It's possible younger kids will eat up the wall-to-wall silliness, and they'll recognize Maria Canals-Barrera, the mom from Wizards of Waverly Place, before they recognize Carvey from anything, but they still might wonder why the end credits last an astonishing ten minutes and are filled with outtakes from scenes that don't otherwise appear in the movie, which only lasts a scant 70 minutes before the credits kick in. Can you say "a huge mess," kids?

For further viewing, check out Wizards of Waverly Place: The Movie (2009).

IGNATIUS MacFARLAND: FREQUENAUT! by Paul Feig (2008)

Little, Brown and Company; 353 pages; sci-fi/fantasy/comedy; ages 9-14; ISBN: 978-0-316-16663-8.

Some kids don't just run away from their problems. Take Ignatius MacFarland, for example: after he's been picked on one too many times at school, this precocious seventh grader builds himself a rocket out of trash cans and firecracker powder (tied together with duct tape since duct tape can fix anything, don't 'cha know) and takes off into what he hopes will be friendlier skies. Somehow Ignatius ends up back on Earth, but in a different "frequency"—think alternate dimension or parallel universe—where his former English teacher, Mr. Arthur, rules over the land as "like, a total fascist," according to Karen, an old classmate who died in an explosion years ago in the regular frequency Iggy knows and (kinda) loves—or did she? Together they must expose and depose Mr. Arthur and find a way back "home."

Paul Feig created the cult-classic TV series Freaks and Geeks and recently directed the hit movie Bridesmaids. I didn't expect to find his name on the shelves of the children's department of the library, but Frequenaut! continues the multihyphenate's celebration of outcasts of all ages (he even drew the pictures in the book, which are sometimes more compelling than the text that surrounds them). His first tween novel is too long at 350 pages, but even at that length Feig fails to explain his "frequency" concept clearly the way the Back to the Future movies mapped out alternate timelines. Nevertheless, Feig shows lots of promise as a writer for tweens.

For further reading, check out Feig's sequel, Ignatius MacFarland: Frequency Freak-Out! (2010).

IN HIS OWN WRITE by John Lennon (1964)

Simon & Schuster; 79 pages; humor; ages 10 and up; ISBN: 0-684-86807-5.

The Beatles stormed America in 1964 after conquering their native UK, so it made sense that any of the band's side projects would generate at least some interest from fans and the general public. Hence In His Own Write, singer-guitarist John Lennon's debut collection of stories, poems, and drawings, some of which were generated during his school days in Liverpool, or "Liddypool," as he refers to his hometown in a short story of the same name. "The writing Beatle," as one particular version of the book's cover touts, enjoys playing around with pronunciations and spellings, as evidenced by titles like "The Fingletoad Resort of Teddiviscious" and "On Safairy With Whide Hunter" ("written in conjugal" with Paul McCartney). He also isn't afraid to explore dark territory, a la Roald Dahl: in "The Fat Growth of Eric Hearble," the title character loses his job "teaching spastics to dance" and is called a "cripple" because of the scabby growth on his head that has conversations with him, and in "Randolf's Party" the protagonist is killed by his friends at his own "Chrisbus" gathering.

I was somewhat surprised to find In His Own Write in the Young Adult section of the Oak Park Public Library, but because Lennon's stories and poems are almost exclusively short and nonsensical, I can see the appeal for younger readers. However, because of Lennon's inventive spellings and heavy use of English slang, some of which may have gone out of fashion about the same time the Beatles broke up 41 years ago, In His Own Write can be a frustrating read. Beatles fans of all ages are encouraged to give it a go all the same: famous Lennon song lyrics like "Yellow mother custard dripping from a dead dog's eye" aren't far removed from poem lyrics such as "I wandered hairy as a dog / To get a goobites sleep" ("I Wandered").

For further reading, check out Lennon's second collection of this and that, A Spaniard in the Works, published the following year. And to see a book trailer I created for In His Own Write, keep yer peepers trained on the YouTube embed below ...

VERY FAR AWAY FROM ANYWHERE ELSE by Ursula K. Le Guin (1976)

Harcourt; 133 pages; realistic fiction; ages 12 and up; ISBN: 0-15-205208-9.

In Very Far Away From Anywhere Else, popular sci-fi author Ursula K. Le Guin gives voice to what could be one of her typical readers. Owen, a 17-year-old self-described "bright little jerk," finds that being alone and pursuing his passions of science and imagined worlds good enough—until he met Natalie. In the course of their friendship Owen lives out the inner turmoil of trying to be what others want him to be—or at least what he thinks they want—and what he wants for himself. His self-image illustrates the fragile egotism required in adolescence, and the ambivalence of fear and desire play out in the course of Owen and Natalie's relationship, as she is as much a source of affection as she is one of envy.

Le Guin's brief and searing 1976 novel suffers only slightly in the present day from descriptive clangers: teens are no longer "neat" nor "with it." Yet the anxiety and urgency of Owen seeking to "finally be realistic about myself" resonates clearly. Le Guin describes a series of events that balance verity and tragedy in careful prose that allows adult and teen readers to recognize their own internal scars and bruises.

If you're interested in reading some of Le Guin's science fiction, check out her "Earthsea Cycle."

HARRIET THE SPY by Louise Fitzhugh (1964)

Yearling/Random House; 300 pages; comedy/drama; ages 8-12; ISBN: 978-0-440-41679-1.

Harriet M. Welsch wants to be a writer when she grows up, but she also fancies herself a spy. She writes down observations in a notebook about everyone she sees in her New York City neighborhood, but she also writes about her classmates and friends. The problem is, her "observations" are really judgments, e.g., "If Marion Hawthorne doesn't watch out she's going to grow up into a lady Hitler." When her notebook is discovered one day at recess, all heck breaks loose: her classmates form a Spy Catcher Club to get their revenge on Harriet via spitballs, spilled ink, etc., and she in return plots her own counter-retaliation. Luckily, her former nanny, Ole Golly, has some good advice on how Harriet can reverse her status as a scorned outcast.

When Harriet the Spy was published in 1964, its title character was seen as something entirely new in children's literature: a protagonist who isn't always likable, especially when she's planning revenge on classmates and friends that she's already hurt with her spy observations. ("Laura Peters: her hair," Harriet writes on her revenge list. "Cut it off. Or make a bald spot.") Fitzhugh exposes the anger that often lies just beneath the surface of school-age friendships, paving the way for writers like Judy Blume and her 1974 novel about fifth-grade "mean girls," Blubber.

For further reading, check out Fitzhugh's sequel of sorts, The Long Secret (1965), and Sport (1979), a spin-off about Harriet's titular friend that was published after Fitzhugh's death from a brain aneurysm in 1974 at the age of 46. There's also a 1996 film version of Harriet the Spy, which, like other tween movies aimed at girls, failed to generate much business at the box office.

NEVER LET YOU GO by Justin Bieber (Teen Island Records, 2010)

Directed by Colin Tilley; 4 minutes; pop/R&B; all ages.



In the music video for "Never Let You Go," a track from his 2010 album My World 2.0 (his original world needed a software update, apparently), teen-pop sensation Justin Bieber promises a girl that he will do exactly as the song's title says. But wait! Something's rotten in the state of Denmark! (Or the state of California, anyway, since that's probably where the video was shot.) The girl in question is clearly shown wearing two wristwatches on her left arm, a subtle visual indication that she will eventually two-time our postpubescent-but-still-looks-prepubescent-but-I-guess-that's-why-he's-so-nonthreatening-and-therefore-acceptable-to-moms-everywhere hero.

Say it ain't so! The Beeb keeps reassuring this vixen that he'll never let her go when he's the one who's going to be let go. How tragic. But if he ever needs a shoulder to cry on, I'm sure his doppelganger, actress Leslie Bibb, wouldn't mind lending one. (Bieber ... Bibb ... Bibber? She was born in '73, he was born in '94. The mom math isn't impossible, that's all I'm saying.) But you know what else is tragic? Bieber's song has the same title as New Kids on the Block's final single from 1994, the year he was born and they broke up because their popularity had fallen off the side of a cliff. The fickleness of teen-pop fans can be so cruel.

For further viewing, check out the aforementioned New Kids on the Block music video of the same name, in which tenor Jordan Knight makes it clear that he's no longer nonthreatening.

WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS by Shel Silverstein (1974)

Harper and Row; 166 pages; humor; ages 8 and up; ISBN: 06-025667-2.

This collection of dozens of Shel Silverstein poems and drawings has been a hit with children and parents alike for more than three decades, gently exploring the hopes, fears, and general pet peeves of multiple generations with rich, occasionally dark humor. Hate going to the dentist? So does Silverstein, it seems, based on the fate of one such tooth collector in his poem "The Crocodile's Toothache." What about taking out the garbage? Well, "Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out," and her fate wasn't much better, though it certainly wasn't as bad as that of the baby in "Dreadful," who got eaten!

Silverstein's poems almost never fail to provoke at least a grin and will likely provoke much more if read aloud to an appreciative audience. Some of my favorites are "Warning," about the dangers of picking one's nose; "Peanut-Butter Sandwich"; and the self-explanatory "The Dirtiest Man in the World" ("The bedbugs that leap on me sing me to sleep"). My girlfriend and I just bought Where the Sidewalk Ends for my niece on her seventh birthday; I'm hoping she'll love Silverstein's poems just as much as I did when I was in the second grade.

For further reading, check out another collection of Silverstein poems, 1981's A Light in the Attic, or the recent posthumous release Every Thing on It.

THE AVENGERS: EARTH'S MIGHTIEST HEROES! (Disney XD, 2010-present)

The Avengers comic book created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby; The Avengers TV series developed by Ciro Nieli, Joshua Fine, and Christopher Yost; 26 episodes and counting (30 minutes each); action-adventure; ages 6 and up.

The animated series featuring Marvel Comics' most celebrated "all-star" superhero team begins by showing its individual heroes in action before they joined forces, with entire episodes focusing on Iron Man, Thor, the Hulk, and Ant-Man and Wasp. Later on in season one, Captain America, Hawkeye, and Black Panther join the existing team, which must round up all the supervillains who've escaped from four specially designed prisons during a mysterious breakout. Earth's mightiest heroes must learn on the job how to communicate effectively with each other while also building trust and respecting what each person brings to the team. But most importantly, they must remember to stay out of the Hulk's way when he's angry.

I like how The Avengers takes its time establishing the characters and their personalities. That way the viewer can see certain conflicts coming and therefore will anticipate the fallout between, say, Thor and the Hulk. The action seems fairly standard as far as animated superhero shows go, though both (minor) good guys and bad guys die, which was never the case on Super Friends 30 years ago. Fans of The Avengers are surely looking forward to the big-screen version of the comic book that opens next summer, but the animated series just may give it a run for its money in the storytelling department.

For further viewing, check out Ang Lee's 2003 version of Hulk, an underrated comic-book movie.

TWELVE ROUNDS TO GLORY: THE STORY OF MUHAMMAD ALI by Charles R. Smith Jr. (2007)

Illustrated by Bryan Collier. Candlewick Press; 80 pages; biography; ages 9-14; ISBN: 978-0-7636-1692-2.

Charles R. Smith Jr.'s picture-book biography of the legendary boxer is written as a series of poems, simultaneously emulating and paying tribute to its subject, whose famous pre-fight poems—"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee / His hands can't hit what his eyes can't see"—influenced the braggadocio of early rap music. Warmly illustrated by Bryan Collier, Twelve Rounds to Glory takes young readers through Ali's entire career, from his heavyweight-championship knockout of Sonny Liston in 1964 to his refusal to fight in the Vietnam War three years later, and continuing on to his popular and professional comeback in '74, when he beat his seven-years-younger opponent, George Foreman, to regain the heavyweight title. The book ends with a brief mention of Parkinson's disease, which Ali was diagnosed with in 1984.

Smith doesn't ignore the often ugly insults Ali slung at his opponents before fights, the worst of them reserved for Joe Frazier: "cutting even deeper / into his heart by dropping a bomb, / by insulting his blackness when you called him Uncle Tom." But for the most part this is a sunny-side-of-the-street biography, in which Ali's four marriages and eight children, two of which were born out of wedlock, are treated as a show of generosity on Ali's part, i.e., he had too much love for just one family! Smith's poetry shines brightest when he recounts Ali's various title bouts, including the 1974 "Rumble in the Jungle" versus Foreman in Zaire: "'IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? / IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?' / absorbing brick after brick, / taking shot after shot, / infuriating the Bull, / making his eyes see blood-red, / moving shots to the body / up top to the head."

Winner of Honor Book recognition from the Coretta Scott King Book Awards in 2008. For more of Smith's poetry, check out the basketball-themed Hoop Kings (2004). And to see a book trailer I created for Twelve Rounds to Glory, keep watching ...

FROM THE MIXED-UP FILES OF MRS. BASIL E. FRANKWEILER by E.L. Konigsburg (1967)

Atheneum Books for Young Readers/Simon & Schuster; 162 pages; mystery; ages 10-14; ISBN: 978-0-689-71181-7.

Claudia Kincaid, age 11, doesn't feel properly appreciated at home, so she runs away. She's not the kind to sleep on the street or in a bus station, though: she decides to take up residence at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, and because she'd like to have some spending money, she takes along her nine-year-old brother Jamie, who never spends his allowance. Together they learn how to avoid suspicion at the museum by camouflaging themselves in school groups during the day and hiding in the bathrooms at night until everyone's gone home. (They bathe in the fountain.) When Claudia becomes enchanted by a statue of an angel whose creator has remained a mystery for nearly 500 years, she becomes a girl on a mission: she must track down the statue's former owner, Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and uncover the angel's secret.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler provides wish fulfillment for any young reader who's ever dreamed about spending the night in a museum and getting away with it by outsmarting adults. Konigsburg has a great sense of humor: "If you think of doing something in New York City, you can be certain that at least two thousand other people have that same thought. And of the two thousand who do, about one thousand will be standing in line waiting to do it." Her drawings leave something to be desired, but I liked her inclusion of a map of the Metropolitan.

Winner of the 1968 Newbery Medal. For further reading, check out Konigsburg's other book from '67, Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth, which won a Newbery Honor award the same year From the Mixed-Up Files won the Medal! (She's the only author who can claim that feat.)

THE LAST AIRBENDER (Nickelodeon Movies/Paramount Pictures, 2010)

Written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan; 103 minutes; fantasy/action; MPAA rating: PG ("for fantasy action violence," but appropriate for ages 7 and up, if you ask me).

Based on an animated series that ran on Nickelodeon for three seasons, The Last Airbender takes place in a world in which the Water, Fire, Air, and Earth nations coexist peacefully under the guidance of the Avatar, the only being that can manipulate all four of the elements ("bending" involves some sort of telekinetic control that allows you to throw water, fire, etc. at your enemies). When the Avatar suddenly vanishes, the Fire Nation declares war on the others, eventually wiping out the Air people and putting the Water and Earth nations under its control. But one day a boy is found encased in a bubble of ice in the Water Nation, and he reveals that he is Aang, the last airbender and a reincarnation of the Avatar. A fallen prince and a devious military officer in the Fire Nation then begin devising schemes to exploit Aang's four "bending" powers.

The Avatar TV series had a large following among tweens and teens, which encouraged Nickelodeon to try a big-screen version. The Last Airbender made money, but the reviews were brutal, and long before the movie came out there were protests over writer-director M. Night Shyamalan's casting of white actors in several key roles despite the characters being of Asian descent in the TV series. Shyamalan is Indian-American, making him south Asian in part, but his heritage didn't help quell the controversy. Personally, I found The Last Airbender to be dull, and since the acting was lackluster in general, what would Shyamalan have had to lose if he'd cast Asian actors across the board? The film's ending leaves room for a sequel, which will probably delight young boys who enjoy imitating the characters' numerous martial arts "bending" poses.

For further viewing, check out various DVD collections of the Avatar: The Last Airbender TV series.

CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY by Roald Dahl (1964)

Illustrated by Joseph Schindelman. Troll/Bantam; 160 pages; fantasy/comedy; ages 8 and up; ISBN: 0-553-12143-X.

"Concerning the adventures of four nasty children and our hero, with Mr. Willy Wonka and his famous candy plant," reads the cover of the 1979 paperback in my possession, which sums up the cast of characters nicely, though it omits Charlie Bucket's four loving grandparents and his equally loving mother and father, all of whom live with Charlie "in a small wooden house on the edge of a great town." In other words, the Buckets live in poverty. When Charlie wins one of five highly coveted golden tickets that grants him access into Willy Wonka's long-dormant chocolate factory, he and the other four winners—Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, and Mike Teavee—arrive at the factory and begin their tour. Slowly but surely, each one reveals his true nature.

Tweens who've grown up in the age of competition-based reality shows like The Amazing Race and Survivor will likely get a kick out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I'd advise that they skip Tim Burton's 2005 film adaptation starring Johnny Depp as a creepy, not charismatic Willy Wonka. The movie was a big hit, but I didn't think it captured any of the magic of the book. (I still haven't seen the 1971 Gene Wilder version, which is shameful, I realize.) Dahl's story works splendidly as fantasy, but because he grounds it in the reality of the Buckets' extreme poverty—and their basic human kindness in the face of such a financial indignity—the climactic payoff is even sweeter.

For further reading, check out Dahl's sequel, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator (1972).

GREEN LANTERN (Warner Bros. Pictures, 2011)

Directed by Martin Campbell; screenplay by Greg Berlanti, Michael Green, Marc Guggenheim, and Michael Goldenberg; 114 minutes; sci-fi/action-adventure; MPAA rating: PG-13 ("for intense sequences of sci-fi violence and action," but appropriate for ages 8 and up, if you ask me).

The longtime DC Comics superhero makes his big-screen debut in this special-effects extravaganza. Test pilot Hal Jordan knows how to fly a fighter jet better than almost anyone, but he's reckless and cocky, and can't shake the memory of watching his father die in a plane crash when Hal was just a boy. Millions of light years away, Abin Sur, a member of the intergalactic Green Lantern Corps (think of them as the space police), is mortally wounded fighting Parallax, a yellow mass of energy that turns out to be the physical embodiment of fear itself. Abin Sur crash-lands on Earth and gives his green power ring to Jordan, who is then indoctrinated into the Green Lantern Corps on their home planet of Oa and learns how to use his ring to create anything he can see in his mind, including giant machine guns and catapults. Jordan will have to overcome all his fear if he's to prevent Parallax from destroying humankind.

Green Lantern was considered a box office disappointment soon after it opened last June, and the critics weren't too kind, but I thought it was more entertaining than Thor, which came out a month earlier and did healthier business. All the money that went into the special effects budget appears to be on the screen, especially in the scenes set in outer space, and Parallax is a vaguely defined but impressive-looking villain. Reynolds isn't flexing any new muscles here in the acting department or otherwise, and after Robert Downey Jr.'s snarky portrayal of Tony Stark in two Iron Man movies, Reynolds's similar approach demonstrates the law of diminishing returns. (Peter Sarsgaard, as pseudovillain Hector Hammond, seems to be having the most fun out of all the actors.)

For further viewing, check out Batman Begins (2005) and The Dark Knight (2008), two films that demonstrate just how good superhero movies can be.

JOHNNY TREMAIN by Esther Forbes (1943)

Yearling/Random House; 322 pages; historical fiction; ages 10-14; ISBN: 978-0-440-44250-9.

Johnny Tremain is a talented apprentice to silversmith Ephraim Lapham in 1770s Boston, even catching the eye of Paul Revere with his work. Unfortunately, it goes to the 14-year-old's head: Johnny thinks his future is made, so when his right hand is permanently crippled in an accident involving a broken crucible, he's greatly humbled. He can no longer become a silversmith, and after several failed attempts at finding a new job, he lands as a delivery boy at the Boston Observer, a pro-Whig newspaper, where he learns all about Revolutionary politics and becomes something of a junior spy, ferreting out the British army's secrets whenever and wherever he can. Johnny also learns the importance of working for the greater good and being part of a team, especially when the team in question is an emerging nation.

I was reminded recently that Johnny Tremain was mentioned in a Simpsons episode back in 1993: Bart isn't interested in reading the book until his mother, Marge, tells him it's about a boy whose hand is deformed in an accident. "Why didn't you say so!" he replies enthusiastically. "They should call this book 'Johnny Deformed'!" Hey, whatever gets reluctant readers reading, plus Johnny Tremain can be used in English classes as a back-door history lesson, killing two educational birds with one stone.

I also like how Esther Forbes illustrates that no one's destiny is predetermined, especially a 14-year-old boy who still has so much to experience in life. In fact Johnny experiences more than he normally would have by his age because of his silversmithing accident: it's doubtful he would have gotten so deeply involved in the American Revolution if he hadn't secured a job that only required the use of one of his hands.

Winner of the 1944 Newbery Medal. For more historical fiction, check out Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham (1955).

THEODORE BOONE: KID LAWYER by John Grisham (2010)

Dutton Children's Books; 263 pages; mystery; ages 8-13; ISBN: 978-0-525-42384-3.

Though he's not the attorney equivalent of Doogie Howser, M.D., meaning he hasn't gone to law school and passed the bar (yet), 13-year-old Theo Boone dispenses legal advice to friends and likes hanging out downtown at the courthouse after school. One day during an explosive murder trial that's been generating lots of headlines Theo is told by a classmate that his cousin has some evidence about the murder; since Theo is friendly with the judge overseeing the trial, the cousin figures he might be able to help. But the witness turns out to be an illegal immigrant, and he's afraid he'll be deported if he comes forward with what he knows. Now it's up to Theo to help bring the killer to justice without ruining the life of his classmate's cousin.

In Parade magazine last summer John Grisham, a former lawyer and one of the best-selling novelists of all time, was asked what it's like to suddenly write for a tween audience. He replied, "My daughter is a schoolteacher, and I spoke to her students recently. Talk about being a nervous wreck! At 11 years old, they’ll ask you anything, and I left too many strings in the air with the first book. The kids are still mad about it—they wanted it wrapped up in a nice, neat package. I’m learning a lot." Indeed, Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer wraps up without the murder trial having been concluded. Kids don't want to be talked down to in books, but as far as I can tell they're also not game for ambiguous endings or open-ended climaxes the way teens often are. In general Grisham's first book for tweens left me wondering whether he genuinely enjoys books targeted at this crowd or just figured writing one would make for a good test of his skills (I don't think he needs or really wants the money).

For further reading, check out Grisham's second Boone book, Theodore Boone: The Abduction (2011).

IGGIE'S HOUSE by Judy Blume (1970)

Atheneum Books for Young Readers/Simon & Schuster; 117 pages; realistic fiction; ages 8 and up; ISBN: 978-0-689-84291-7.

Eleven-year-old Winnie's best friend from down the street, Iggie, has recently moved to Tokyo with her family. As Judy Blume's first novel begins, a new family is moving into Iggie's house—a black family, making them the first nonwhites in the neighborhood. Winnie's excited to make new friends with the Garber family's three children, Glenn, Herbie, and Tina, and show them she's not like other white kids, but her parents are less enthused, mainly because they can see the trouble around the bend that Winnie can't. And once neighborhood busybody Dorothy Landon starts up her own unwelcoming committee, tempers begin to flare on both sides of the issue.

Blume's YA debut shows her in full control of her talent, which blossomed even further as the '70s rolled on. She creates memorable characters like hotheaded Herbie, who confronts Winnie on her ill-advised "great white savior" role and in general speaks his mind like a grade-school prototype of TV's George Jefferson (who was still a few years away from seeing the televised light of day), and shows readers how Winnie's actions are similar to Mrs. Landon's. Iggie's House powerfully reflects the "white flight" racial tensions of its time but ends on a quiet note, gently reminding readers both young and old that modest victories are sometimes the only ones you get.

For further reading, check out everything Judy Blume has ever written. You'll be glad you did. And to see a Glogster-hosted advertising poster I created for Iggie's House, click here.

DEAR MR. HENSHAW by Beverly Cleary (1983)

Illustrated by Paul O. Zelinsky. William Morrow and Company; 134 pages; drama; ages 8-13; ISBN: 0-688-02405-X.

Beverly Cleary's warmhearted tale is an example of an epistolary novel, one told through letters written by a character or characters in the story itself. In Dear Mr. Henshaw the letters are written by a boy named Leigh Botts, who becomes our narrator as he communicates with his favorite children's author starting in second grade, though a steady correspondence between the two doesn't really take hold until Leigh enters sixth grade, in a new town with no friends and parents who have divorced. Leigh answers questions sent to him by Mr. Henshaw, though not always with a smile on his face, and starts a diary at the encouragement of the author.

I love the epistolary-novel format, and wish it were used more often in children's books as an example of the different ways in which stories can be told and reveal character without explaining every single detail to the reader, such as the way in which Leigh's writing improves over the course of the narrative, validating Mr. Henshaw's encouragement. Unlike her Henry Huggins and Ramona & Beezus stories, there isn't any comical mischief in Dear Mr. Henshaw unless you count Leigh trying to find out who keeps stealing from his lunch bag at school. Similar to the female protagonist  in Judy Blume's It's Not the End of the World (1972), Leigh must accept the fact that his parents aren't going to get back together, a sober reality Cleary presents with sensitivity and grace.

Winner of the 1984 Newbery Medal. For another example of an epistolary novel, check out Regarding the Fountain by Kate Klise (1998).

SUPER 8 (Paramount Pictures, 2011)

Written and directed by J.J. Abrams; 112 minutes; science fiction; MPAA rating: PG-13 ("for intense sequences of sci-fi action and violence, language and some drug use," but appropriate for ages 10 and up, if you ask me).

Fourteen-year-old Joe Lamb's mother has died in a factory accident, and four months later he and his father, a local sheriff's deputy, are still grieving in their own separate ways while drifting further apart from each other. Joe's friend Charles is making a zombie movie on his Super-8 camera—the film is set in the summer of 1979—and asks Joe to apply makeup to the actors. Joe is happy to oblige since this means he'll get to talk to—and lightly touch the face of—Alice, a classmate who's agreed to play the hero's wife in Charles's movie. But when Charles and his middle-school crew go to a long-abandoned train depot to film a scene late one night, they witness a train derailment that unleashes an alien creature.

Super 8 was conceived by writer-director J.J. Abrams as a nostalgic tribute to Steven Spielberg films of the late '70s and early '80s like Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T., although the alien in Super 8 is a whole lot meaner than any of the ones in those films. The first half of the film, like E.T., has charm to burn—it's fun to watch Charles and Joe work on their zombie movie, and touching how Joe and Alice bond while Charles realizes Alice is interested in his friend, not him—but the second half is more about action and chase scenes than anything else, recalling 1985's The Goonies, which Spielberg produced but didn't direct (I didn't see it until I was 28, so the whole movie just felt like one long sequence of kids screaming). I was ultimately disappointed in Super 8—and since Abrams was a teenager himself in 1979, how come he uses insults and expressions like "douche" and "awesome," which weren't around back then, into his script?—but I think tweens will enjoy the thrill ride as much as the tender moments, if not more so.

For further viewing, check out Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982).

THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins (2008)

Scholastic; 374 pages; sci-fi/fantasy; 12 and up; ISBN: 978-0-439-02352-8.

North America has been erased. In its place stands Panem, whose 12 districts once waged war against the Capitol and lost. Now, under the terms of their surrender, the financially destitute districts must each send one boy and one girl, ages 12-18 (no wonder The Hunger Games is such a popular YA book), to fight to the death, with one winner left standing at the end, in a televised event called the Hunger Games. Sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen becomes the female contestant from District 12 after she steps in to take the place of her little sister, who was chosen in the district lottery. As the Games begin, Katniss uses her outdoor survival skills to stay out of the rising body count, but in the process she risks losing her humanity.

Suzanne Collins certainly knows how to write a page-turner, and her commentary on how history repeats itself—the Hunger Games are a throwback to the violent Roman gladiator matches of the second century—is inventive, especially her take on competition-based reality TV shows and their reliance on having a contestant "voted off the island" each week. The blossoming romance between Katniss and Peeta, the male contestant from District 12, is nothing special, but I did like seeing her nurturing side come out around Rue, the doomed 12-year-old contestant who reminds Katniss of her little sister.

For further reading, check out Collins's Hunger Games sequels, Catching Fire (2009) and Mockingjay (2010).

DEBBIE HARRY SINGS IN FRENCH by Megan Brothers (2008)

Henry Holt and Company; 234 pages; realistic fiction; ages 13 and up; ISBN: 978-0-8050-8080-3.

This coming-of-age novel centers on Johnny, a 1990s Florida teen whose dad dies in a car crash the week of his 13th birthday. His mom, too depressed to do much of anything over the next couple years, leaves chores like shopping for groceries and paying the bills to Johnny; he starts drinking to deal with the pressure. After she recovers and takes charge of the household again, Johnny accidentally overdoses on Ecstasy one night at a club. He goes into rehab, but following his own recovery, his mom sends him to South Carolina to live with his uncle Sam, whereupon he meets and falls for Maria, a “bad girl” who shares his love of 1970s punk rock (Blondie, Patti Smith, the Ramones) and helps Johnny explore his latent interest in transvestism.

Debbie Harry Sings in French received a starred review from Publishers Weekly for its “brisk pace and ... strong-willed, empathetic narrator,” although, like Kirkus Reviews, it took issue with Brothers’s plot, which the latter found “problematic,” especially in the early chapters set in Tampa. I’m sure a movie adaptation would cut the bulk of those chapters, but I enjoyed how Brothers presented a single-parent household in which the only child, out of sheer necessity, takes on the responsibilities of the incapacitated parent. Booklist’s Jennifer Hubert noted that “the prose occasionally slides into cliché,” but I’d argue it’s the supporting characters who sometimes run the risk of being stereotypes: Lucas, the hip, wise Jamaican record store owner, skirts the edge of “Magical Negro” status, and Bug, Johnny’s female cousin, acts more like a precocious second grader than an 11-year-old on the cusp of adolescence.

For further reading, check out Parrotfish by Ellen Wittlinger (2007).

THE SKIN I'M IN by Sharon G. Flake (1998)

Jump at the Sun/Hyperion; 171 pages; realistic fiction; ages 11 and up; ISBN: 978-142310385-1.

Seventh grader Maleeka Madison is picked on because of the darkness of her skin. When a new language-arts teacher named Miss Saunders arrives at her inner-city middle school as part of a corporate program that puts advertising executives in classrooms for a year, Maleeka finds herself in the presence of a caring mentor, though she doesn't know it at first. In fact she resists Miss Saunders's attention and concern almost every step of the way, partly because the new teacher has a large white birthmark on her black face, making her, in Maleeka's mind, as much of a target for negative comments as Maleeka herself. The protagonist must also deal with an aggressive classmate named Charlese, who lets Maleeka wear her fashionable clothes in exchange for doing Charlese's homework every night.

Author Sharon G. Flake makes the point of providing hints as to how a "bad girl" like Charlese came to be: we see that her home life consists of no parents and an older sister who throws parties that last entire weekends. We also learn why John-John, one of Maleeka's worst verbal tormentors, began disliking her in the first place. The Skin I'm In wraps up its various plot threads a little too neatly (did Maleeka really have to find romance with the cutest boy in school?), but Flake energizes her story as a whole by telling it in Maleeka's urban-teen vernacular ("I ain't no squealer. Never was, never will be."), and her account of a near-rape that Maleeka narrowly escapes is told with vivid, heart-rending suspense.

Winner of the Coretta Scott King Book Awards' John Steptoe New Talent Award in 1999. For further reading, check out The First Part Last by Angela Johnson.

COOLIES by Yin (2001)

Illustrated by Chris Soentpiet. Philomel/Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers; 40 pages; history; ages 7-10; ISBN: 0-399-23227-3.

Shek and his younger brother, Wong, leave famine-devastated China for America in the mid-1800s to find work building the First Continental Railroad along the western portion of the country. Their goal is to send money home so their remaining family members won't starve. On top of back-breaking work and discrimination from white railroad foremen, who condescendingly call the Chinese "coolies," or slaves, Shek, Wong, and their fellow immigrants discover they're being paid less than non-Chinese laborers. They go on strike, but Shek reminds them that as long as they don't work, they can't send money back to their families in China.

Yin tells her story with a framing device involving a tween boy and his grandmother, who regales him with the history of her great-grandfather and his brother—Shek and Wong, respectively. Soentpiet's drawings employ wide-screen, sun-kissed vistas that add cinematic flair to Yin's heartfelt, human prose. "Call us what you will," Shek says upon the completion of the First Transcontinental, "it is our hands that helped build the railroad."

For further reading, check out Ten Mile Day and the Building of the Transcontinental Railroad, written and illustrated by Mary Ann Fraser (1993).

CROOKLYN (Universal Pictures, 1994)

Directed by Spike Lee; screenplay by Cinqué Lee, Joie Susannah Lee, and Spike Lee; 115 minutes; comedy/drama; MPAA rating: PG-13 ("for drug content," which means two characters who sniff glue, but appropriate for ages 10 and up, if you ask me).

Troy Carmichael lives in Brooklyn with her four brothers, her schoolteacher mom, and her jazz-musician dad, who's been having trouble finding work lately. This causes tension at home, but most of it is kept out of sight of the kids, who spend their summer playing outdoors till the sun goes down, watching The Partridge Family when they're not supposed to have the TV on, and getting into mischief that occasionally involves their odd neighbor "Tony Eyes," a nearsighted man with oversized eyeglasses who owns several small dogs that are constantly barking. Troy reluctantly takes a trip down south to stay with her aunt Song and uncle Clem for a week, but she ends up having more fun than she expected with her cousin Viola. When she returns home, however, she finds that everything is suddenly about to change for good in the Carmichael household.

Set in the early 1970s, Crooklyn is episodic in nature and therefore won't appeal to everyone, but because it's semi-autobiographical—oldest brother Clinton appears to be based on cowriter-director Spike Lee, and Troy seems to represent cowriter Joie Susannah Lee (both have cameos in the film)—the Carmichael house feels like it's actually been lived in, not constructed for use in a movie. The Carmichael kids are almost always yelling and fighting with each other about something, but unlike the kids on Hannah Montana, for instance, their fights aren't constructed around well-rehearsed one-liners. And when the Carmichaels talk back to their mom, they suffer the consequences right away.

The last 20 minutes of Crooklyn may be too intense for younger viewers in the same way that Doris Buchanan Smith's book A Taste of Blackberries was too intense for me when I was eight years old. But it's a hell of an ending, one that makes me cry every time I watch the film. (Another selling point is Crooklyn's wall-to-wall soundtrack of early-'70s R&B hits, including the Spinners' "Mighty Love," Jean Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff," and Stevie Wonder's "Signed Sealed Delivered I'm Yours.")

For further viewing, check out Akeelah and the Bee (2006). And to see a trailer for Crooklyn, click here.

A WREATH FOR EMMETT TILL by Marilyn Nelson (2005)

Illustrated by Philippe Lardy. Houghton Mifflin; 48 pages; history; ages 12 and up; ISBN: 0-618-39752-3.

As Marilyn Nelson explains in the foreword to her book-length poem, A Wreath for Emmett Till is a heroic crown of sonnets, "a sequence of fifteen interlinked sonnets, in which the last one is made up of the first lines of the preceding fourteen." Till, a 14-year-old Chicago boy, was visiting relatives in Mississippi in the summer of 1955 when he was kidnapped and murdered by two white men for supposedly whistling at a white woman. Till's mother held an open-casket funeral so the public could see how her child was mutilated by these men, who were charged with the murder but ultimately acquitted after a trial by all-white jury. Nevertheless, the battle for civil rights in the Deep South had begun.

Nelson's words pack a punch, particularly in this segment of one particular sonnet:

This country we love has a Janus face:
One mouth speaks with forked tongue, the other reads
the Constitution. My country, 'tis of both
thy nightmare history and thy grand dream,
thy centuries of good and evil deeds,
I sing ...

Tweens who stick with A Wreath for Emmett Till through Nelson's various twists and turns of phrase will be rewarded with an experience that bears comparison to a fiery gospel sermon delivered by a preacher whose heart is filled with equal parts rage and forgiveness. (Lardy's artwork is pretty, but the pen is mightier than the brush here.) Not easily forgotten.

For further reading, check out Chris Crowe's Getting Away With Murder: The True Story of the Emmett Till Case (2003).

WEETZIE BAT by Francesca Lia Block (1989)

HarperCollins; 109 pages; magical realism; ages 12 and up; ISBN: 978-0-06-073625-5.

Weetzie grew up in Los Angeles and is nostalgic for a Hollywood she never knew, yet it's one we all unconsciously know, the golden age of stars like Bogart and Monroe. Weetzie is in her early 20s and a little lost when she meets Dirk, who becomes her new best friend. Dirk's gay, and Weetzie helps him in his search for an ideal boyfriend. Together they find Duck, while Weetzie falls for the one and only Secret Agent Lover Man. The two couples then move in together, but author Francesca Lia Block doesn't provide them with "happily ever after" until she's thrown a wrench or two into the works, plus a baby, a disease, and a death or two.

If you're in the right frame of mind, Weetzie Bat is a fun read that operates mostly on dream logic as it blends elements of 1980s L.A. with 1950s La-La Land. Tweens and teens discovering the book today can learn a little about the AIDS epidemic that permanently changed the American landscape in the '80s for both homosexuals and heterosexuals, though Block's then-progressive scenario of a woman and her two gay male friends raising a baby together may seem quaint to today's younger audiences. Thank God for that ...

For further reading, check out subsequent entries in Block's "Dangerous Angels" series: Witch Baby, Cherokee Bat and the Goat Guys, Missing Angel Juan, and Baby Be-Bop.

THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN by Sherman Alexie (2007)

Illustrated by Ellen Forney. Little, Brown and Company; 230 pages; realistic fiction; ages 12 and up; ISBN: 978-0-316-01369-7.

Arnold Spirit Jr. is an awkward but creative 14-year-old Spokane Indian who lives on a reservation with his parents and grandmother. On the first day of ninth grade at the "rez" school, he discovers his mother's maiden name in his "new" geometry textbook. Infuriated, he throws the book at his teacher, breaking the man's nose, but when the teacher comes to Arnold's house to talk to him about the incident, he encourages Arnold to do whatever he can to get off the reservation, before it kills his spirit. Arnold decides to enroll at the all-white high school in nearby Reardan, angering many Indians, especially his newly former best friend, Rowdy, who feels abandoned but can only express himself with his fists. But over the course of the school year, as he experiences one family tragedy after another amidst personal triumphs on the school's basketball court, Arnold comes to terms with his status as a part-time Indian.

Sherman Alexie's semiautobiographical novel is bursting with brash humor and unexpected tragedy (apparently seven of his relatives died in a single school year when he was around Arnold's age). It also doesn't pull any punches in discussing extreme poverty among Indians or the rampant alcoholism that's a direct cause—and effect—of that poverty. Ellen Forney's line drawings enhance Alexie's prose, so much so that it's hard to imagine the book without them. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian lives up to the critical hype.

Winner of the 2007 National Book Award for Young People's Literature. For further reading, check out The Skin I'm In by Sharon G. Flake or American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang. And to see a Glogster-hosted advertising poster I created for Part-Time Indian, click here.

DOCTOR PROCTOR'S FART POWDER by Jo Nesbø (2010)

Illustrated by Mike Lowery. Aladdin/Simon & Schuster; 265 pages; comedy; ages 9-13; ISBN: 978-1-4169-7972-2.

"The most successful Norwegian author of all time," according to this title's book jacket, turns his attention away from crime fiction and toward more juvenile matters, but if you're a reluctant reader of the male persuasion, you'll probably get a kick out of this goofy tale of a Norwegian boy named Nilly. When his family moves to a new house he makes the acquaintance of the girl next door, Lisa, and Doctor Proctor, a kindly inventor, whose latest creation is fart powder. There's a normal version that provides the funny noises without the terrible smells, but the doctor also has an industrial-strength version that can send Nilly up, up, and away into outer space (in a chapter entitled "The Fartonaut"). He hopes to sell the latter version to NASA, but another neighbor, the evil Mr. Trane, plans to steal the powder and sell it to the space agency first.

Despite the famous four-letter word in the title, Doctor Proctor's Fart Powder doesn't dwell on bathroom humor. Instead Nesbø uses the beloved/reviled bodily function to entice readers (again, those of the male persuasion) who might not otherwise want to read a story involving kooky inventors, stoopid twin bullies, and a giant snake that lives in the sewer. Nesbø's bone-dry style respects a general rule of comedy: no matter how outlandish your story becomes, always take it completely seriously.

For further reading, check out Nesbø's sequel, Doctor Proctor's Fart Powder: Bubble in the Bathtub (2011). (In case you haven't guessed already, kids, it includes farting too.)

CHARLOTTE'S WEB by E.B. White (1952)

Illustrated by Garth Williams. HarperCollins; 192 pages; fable; ages 8 and up; ISBN: 978-0-0644-0055-8.

Eight-year-old Fern lives on a farm. One day she prevents her father from killing the runt of a new litter of pigs. She names the pig Wilbur, who becomes friends with a wise, matronly spider named Charlotte in the farmer's barn. Wilbur becomes frightened and angry when he learns the culinary fate of all pigs ("I want to stay alive, right here in my comfortable manure pile with all my friends," he cries), so Charlotte spins a web—literally—that says "SOME PIG," which attracts attention from all over and earns Wilbur the new nickname of "Zuckerman's Famous Pig." Charlotte has saved Wilbur from the slaughterhouse, but how will he survive if she's no longer around to help him?

E.B. White's animal tale is an all-time classic, and for good reason: we all want mother figures like Fern and Charlotte to save us and make us feel secure in times of great need. Charlotte's Web also contains a great deal of gentle humor, most of it courtesy of Templeton, a rat who looks out for himself above all others but ultimately does the right thing when needed. After all these years, I still find it hard not to tear up during the final chapter.

Winner of a 1953 Newbery Honor Book award. For a more intellectual animal story, check out George Orwell's Animal Farm (1954).

MARCH OF THE PENGUINS (National Geographic Feature Films/Warner Independent Pictures, 2005)

Directed by Luc Jacquet; written by Luc Jacquet, Michel Fessler, and Jordan Roberts; 80 minutes; documentary; MPAA rating: G (all ages).

This fascinating documentary about emperor penguins in Antarctica, narrated by Morgan Freeman, tells of how they travel 70 miles, by foot or by belly, each year from the ocean to breed in a special area that's protected somewhat from harsh winds by high ice walls and has ice thick enough beneath the penguins' feet that it never melts or cracks all year round. After the penguins mate and the female gives birth, the male takes responsibility for keeping the egg safe and warm while the female travels 70 miles back to the ocean to feed herself—she hasn't eaten in two months by this point—and gather enough food in her stomach so she can feed her baby when she returns.

Spellbinding cinematography drives home the sensation that March of the Penguins is showing the viewer something truly unique. Antarctica looks breathtaking, as in "Its natural beauty will take your breath away" and "It's so cold you'll stop breathing." Some tween viewers may be wary of watching documentaries on nature at this stage in their lives, but they'll warm up (no pun intended) to this one once they see the penguins on their march, waddling back and forth. Plus, baby penguins are mighty cute.

For further viewing, check out Happy Feet (2006), an animated song-and-dance story about penguins.

MAD HOT BALLROOM (Nickelodeon Movies/Paramount Classics, 2005)

Directed by Marilyn Agrelo; written by Amy Sewell; 105 minutes; documentary; MPAA rating: PG ("for some thematic elements," but appropriate for ages 9 and up, if you ask me).

In 1994 the New York City public school system introduced a ballroom dance program for fifth graders. Within ten years it expanded from two schools to 60, with 6,000 students required to take part in the ten-week course. School administrators can then choose whether or not to participate in an annual citywide competition, where only one school will be named the winner. Mad Hot Ballroom follows students from three of these schools, in the neighborhoods of Bensonhurst, Tribeca, and Washington Heights, revealing bits of their personalities and their dreams through footage of their dancing.

I think tweens would get a kick out of watching their peers learning the foxtrot, the merengue, and swing, but maybe it'd be too painful to see your insecurities about the opposite sex and your own body reflected back at you. As an adult who was introduced to ballroom dancing in college, however, I was tickled to see how these fifth graders reacted when forced to touch each other in various dancing poses (safe touching, of course, which isn't a bad lesson to learn at the age of 11) and let their feet and hips do the talking instead of their overactive mouths. I can't wait to see how my nieces will react to Mad Hot Ballroom.

For further viewing, check out the Oscar-nominated documentary Spellbound (2002).

TITAN A.E. (Twentieth Century Fox, 2000)

Directed by Don Bluth and Gary Goldman; screenplay by Ben Edlund, John August, and Joss Whedon; 94 minutes; science fiction; MPAA rating: PG ("for action violence, mild sensuality and brief language," but appropriate for ages 7 and up, if you ask me).

In 3028 A.D., Earth is blown to bits by an intergalactic race called the Drej (the "A.E." in the film's title stands for "After Earth"), but not before Professor Sam Tucker launches the Titan, a mobile lab that has the components needed to create a new planet—if it can be found in deep space before all that's left of humanity is wiped out. Mankind is now a minority species in the universe, subsisting in assorted drifter colonies. Tucker's son, Cale, was a boy when Earth was destroyed; Captain Korso, who claims to have known the professor, finds Cale and shows him that the ring his father gave him right before he launched the Titan and disappeared forever contains secret directions that can help them locate the lab. The Drej hope to locate it too—and destroy it, sealing mankind's fate.

Over the years I'd heard good things about Titan A.E., which disappeared quickly from theaters in the summer of 2000. I'm sure tweens will find it at least somewhat entertaining, but I thought its mix of old-school hand-drawn animation and new-school computer animation was jarring, as if directors Don Bluth and Gary Goldman or the studio couldn't make up their minds on which way to go. A chase sequence set among asteroid-sized reflective icicles is beautifully rendered, but in most other instances it looks like the animators overdid the hand-drawn material—characters' faces are constantly in motion, as if they're all on Ritalin—while underbudgeting the necessary computer effects. Worse, the story line is highly derivative of Star Wars at times (not to mention Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan and even Waterworld), with Cale and Korso performing a mediocre Luke-and-Han tribute act.

For further, better animated viewing, check out Pixar's WALL-E (2008).

THE DEATH OF SUPERMAN by Dan Jurgens, Jerry Ordway, Louise Simonson, and Roger Stern (1993)

Illustrated by Jon Bogdanove, Tom Grummett, Jackson Guice, Dan Jurgens, et al. DC Comics; 168 pages; sci-fi/fantasy; ages 8-13; ISBN: 1-56389-097-6.

This graphic novel delivers on its promise: the seemingly immortal Man of Steel is killed at the hands of Doomsday, an otherworldly creature more powerful than any foe he's faced before. Doomsday is a killing machine, pure and simple, whose agenda consists of nothing more than total annihilation of everything that lies in his path.

Because The Death of Superman is a compilation of seven comic-book issues that spanned five different DC Comics titles (Superman, Superman: The Man of Steel, The Adventures of Superman, Action Comics, and Justice League America) at the tail end of 1992, there's a bit of repetition in the storytelling to fill in readers who may not have picked up previous issues. Every few pages it seems like a new character is questioning the origins of Doomsday, just as Superman constantly questions his ability to defeat the creature. The action-packed Doomsday story line, which becomes increasingly bloody as it nears its climax, starts on an unpromising note with a subplot involving creatures who live below the streets of Metropolis, but once Superman is interviewed on a local daytime talk show and states that "violence is the price we pay to accomplish a greater good," The Death of Superman begins to take off.

For further reading, check out World Without a Superman and The Return of Superman, which completed the saga in 1993.

NO GIRLS ALLOWED by Susan Hughes (2008)

Illustrated by Willow Dawson. Kids Can Press; 80 pages; history; ages 9-12; ISBN: 978-1-55453-177-6.

Susan Hughes's graphic novel, subtitled "Tales of Daring Women Dressed as Men for Love, Freedom and Adventure," is made up of seven stories based on historical fact (more or less) that stretch from 1500 BCE to the American Civil War. Readers learn about Hatshepsut's rise to power as an Egyptian pharaoh despite men only being allowed to hold that title; Mulan's selfless enrollment in the Chinese army, an action she took to save the life of her elderly father; Ellen Craft's bold plan to escape her life as a slave in the American south in the 1840s with her husband, William, also a slave; and four other females who sacrificed their identities but never their souls in order to carve out better lives for themselves.

Hughes crams a lot of history and exposition into her seven tales, sometimes with a heavy hand that also ends stories abruptly, but Willow Dawson's clean black-and-white drawings help convey the characters' fears, frustrations, and triumphs quickly and effectively. "Allowed the freedom to reach out and try, they could achieve their goals," Hughes writes in No Girls Allowed's afterword. "Unfortunately, they had to do it while living a lie." Luckily, their shining examples of courage and independence blazed the trail for countless other women in the years to come.

For further reading about risk-taking females, check out T-Minus author Jim Ottaviani's Dignifying Science: Stories About Women Scientists (1999).

BUD, NOT BUDDY by Christopher Paul Curtis (1999)

Yearling/Random House; 243 pages; comedy/drama; ages 8-12; ISBN: 978-0-440-41328-8.

Is jazzman Herman E. Calloway of Herman E. Calloway & the Dusky Devastators of the Depression the father of ten-year-old protagonist Bud (please don't call him Buddy) Caldwell? He seems to think so after seeing his mother get agitated by a flyer for one of Calloway's shows right before she passed away and made him an orphan. It's not much to go on, of course, but it sure beats sticking around in abusive foster homes and miserable shantytowns in Flint, Michigan, during the Great Depression. On his 120-mile journey to Grand Rapids, home of Mr. Calloway, Bud encounters a "vampire" with a clearly marked box of human blood in his car, kisses a girl named Deza Malone, and ultimately discovers the real identity of Herman E. Calloway.

Reminiscent of Mark Twain and Charles Dickens in his storytelling approach, Christopher Paul Curtis also has a wicked sense of humor like the former. "The door banged open and Herman E. Calloway stood there huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, only with his belly it looked like he'd already eaten the three little pigs," Curtis writes. Plus, Bud's self-help manual, entitled "Bud Caldwell's Rules and Things for Having a Funner Life and Making a Better Liar Out of Yourself," includes some real doozies, like #29: "When You Wake Up and Don't Know for Sure Where You're At and There's a Bunch of People Standing Around You, It's Best to Pretend You're Still Asleep Until You Can Figure Out What's Going On and What You Should Do."

Winner of both the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award. For further reading, check out a contemporary tale from Curtis, 2004's Bucking the Sarge.