The Night Fairy

Written by Laura Amy Schlitz,

illustrated by Angela Barrett

Candlewick Press, 2010

$16.99, ages 9-12, 128 pages.

After a feisty young fairy loses her wings, she tries to coax other creatures into carrying her on their backs until a hummingbird teaches her that not everyone has to do what she wants.

In this delightful tale by Newbery Medal winner Schlitz, a bat pup on the hunt for food mistakes a night fairy named Flory for a moth and bites her wings, sending her falling from the sky onto a cherry tree.

Crushed and aching, Flory's wings are beyond repair, but Flory is a nimble little thing and manages to crawl up into an abandoned nesting box higher in the tree and hole up inside until she can figure out what do.

Though just shy of three months old, Flory is headstrong and doesn't take long to decide what to do, and since she now thinks bats are horrid creatures, she wants to get as far away from them as she can.

Too young to cast a spell to grow new wings, Flory must find a way to live in the woods so that she won't be preyed upon by bats and decides to switch her waking hours from night to day.

But being a day fairy isn't easy when you're born for nighttime -- the sunshine makes Flory's eyes water and dries her skin -- yet Flory is used to making do and with the exception of bats, isn't afraid of much.

Like all night fairies, Flory was fledged just seven days after she was born and never had anyone to guide her -- mother fairies don't look after their young, so it's up to fairy babes to make their way in the world, which forces them to be intrepid.

Now that she can see what daytime looks like, Flory is taken in by the blue of the sky, and the colors and energy of a garden below. The garden belongs to a giant, and though day fairies fear giants, she doesn't feel a bit intimidated by her, and the giant, who seems small for a giant, seems oblivious to Flory.

But Flory still has a big problem. Given that she's only as tall as an acorn, gathering food by foot would be slow and arduous, so Flory decides she must get another creature to take her where she needs to go and in no time at all, Flory finds a squirrel do just that.

At first the squirrel startles her, sniffing around the nesting box, but Flory discovers she can tame him with a stinging spell and cajoles him into carrying her on his head to a feeder that he can't get into. In exchange, Flory shares the seeds she frees from the tube.

Soon, Flory thinks of all kinds of deals she can make with the squirrel, whom she names Skuggle, such as getting him to gnaw off a thorn in exchange for her spearing suet for him to eat -- though she isn't terribly kind to him.

The squirrel is also very single-minded and would have eaten Flory had she not provided him with food.

Still, the two are growing accustomed to each other. Since Flory doesn't have other night fairies to teach her manners and since Skuggle doesn't have manners to teach Flory, the two don't seem to mind the other being rude.

In fact, they've grown quite accustomed to each other, perhaps even friendly, though neither knows what that means.

But Flory isn't satisfied riding a big lumbering squirrel. She wants to ride on the back of a hummingbird -- a graceful ride with wings that quiver in the air -- though she knows that hummingbirds are known to be aloof, even nasty.

Flory decides to hang out at a hummingbird feeder to get their attention, but is ignored by one bird after the next until one day something horrible happens and she gets her chance to force one of them to shuttle her around.

To her surprise, the hummingbird refuses to make a deal with Flory and challenges the fairy to do what's right.

Any child who's ever wished she was small enough to scamper among the branches of a tree will adore this story, and be warmed by the lessons Flory learns: to act with kindness and be willing to forgive, even if you're afraid to at first.

Schlitz, a librarian most of her life, won the 2008 Newbery for Good Masters! Sweet Ladies!, while Angela Barrett illustrated the breathtaking 2007 remake of Paul Gallico's classic tale The Snow Goose and Max Eilenberg's 2006 adaptation of Beauty and the Beast.

Taking a Break from Technology: How-Tos For Making Your Own Fun

Do you ever feel like your computer has a magnetic pull on your kids? Or that if you looked closely enough while they played Xbox, you might see their eyes spiral?

Don't get me wrong, technology is wonderful and the better our kids get at using it, the more prepared they'll be when it's time to send them out into the world.

But wouldn't it be nice if they weren't quite so smitten with all these gadgets? If the simple stuff we did as kids -- carving soap bars, building Popsicle stick houses and pushing trucks over dirt piles all afternoon -- made our kids as satisfied?

While many of us limit how long our kids stay on gaming systems, cutting them off can be brutal. The hold these things have on them -- the adrenaline they fuel -- can leave them overstimulated when their allotted time is up.

To help ease them back into doing things that require more initiative, I've spotlighted two great guides that are filled with crafts and games that many of us did as kids, but that our kids may not have had a chance to get to.

How to Do Nothing With Nobody All Alone By Yourself

by Robert Paul Smith, illustrated by Elinor Goulding Smith

Tin House Books, reissued 2010

Ages 9-12, $14.95, 132 pages

This classic 1958 guide reintroduces kids to those natural urges they have to turn random objects into crazy great stuff, like thread spools into army tanks and peach pits into turtles.

Readers will love that everything in this book was invented by kids and passed along by kids, that nothing costs money to make and that each of the projects is a seat-of-the-pants creation.

At one time or another, every idea in this book came from a kid who decided to make something for no real reason other than he had a whim and he went with it.

"There are no classes to learn these things, no teachers to teach them, you don't need any help from your mother or your father or anybody," Smith writes. "The rule about this book is there's no hollering for help."

But just some caution. This isn't a book for the younger ones. A chapter's worth is dedicated to a pocket knife lesson in mumbly-peg, a game of skill in which you flip a Boy Scout knife off and over your hands, and later Smith shows how to turn a forked branch into a slingshot and fashion a rubber-band gun.

Don't worry, though, this isn't a reckless how-to; it's just very 1950s. From the get-go, Smith talks straight to the reader: "Once you have built them my way, you may find a better way to build them, but first time, do them the way it says."

Parents may want to review safety rules, however, and if they're feeling nostalgic for their childhood days of whittling away at this or that, don't miss the introduction by the NPR Weekend Edition's literary detective Paul Collins.

Best Parts: Having plucked many pussy willow buds on my way to elementary school and imagined them to be little furry creatures, I was particularly drawn to Smith's lesson on how to turn them into fluffy bees with paper, a pen and a dab of glue.

The Girl Mechanic: Classic Crafts, Games & Toys to Build

The Editors of Popular Mechanics

Hearst Books, 2009

Ages 9-12, $9.95, 240 pages.

This clever how-to, compiled from early editions of Popular Mechanics magazine, is packed with so many fantastical projects your girls won't know where to begin.

With more than 100 time-tested project to choose from, they'll be flipping with glee from one page to the next, then rummaging through recycling boxes and closets for parts to get started.

Though some crafts, like a pixie bank made from a mailing tube can be done on their own, many of the crafts like a tea party serving cart are elaborate and will require adult skills and ingenuity.

Frequently, the directions are limited to a diagram with measurements and a short write-up, and seem meant more as a starting point then a detailed how-to.

But that's part of what makes this book so charming. It inspires girls to put their own spin on projects, and encourages parents and girls to figure out things together and try something new.

While a few of the projects are familiar, like cutting a five-pointed star from paper or making favors out of paper tubes, most you won't find in a typical kid's craft book.

For example, there are directions to turn a wooden frame into a loom for weaving rags into rugs, convert a cardboard box into a geometric drawing machine with gears similar to a Spirograph, cast bookends from their hands with plaster and even build a bamboo cage for a wooden bird.

The grandest projects (and perhaps the most alluring) are a dollhouse mansion with working elevator (and tiny fine furnishings), miniature golf course, jointed wooden pony, wooden merry-go-round and Venetian swing.

If your child happens to be a boy, check out these other great books in the series, The Boy Mechanic: 200 Classic Things to Build and The Boy Mechanic Makes Toys: 159 Games, Toys, Tricks and Other Amusements.

Best Parts: I particularly loved the section "Entertaining Toy Time," which shows how to transform a broomstick into a wooden man on a string and build a scooter from blocks of wood, old roller skate wheels and a door hinge.

The Heart and the Bottle

Written and illustrated by Oliver Jeffers

Philomel Books, 2010

$17.99, ages 4 and up, 32 pages

When the one person who understands her most passes away, a girl closes her heart up in a bottle so it can't be hurt anymore, only to realize years later that life is too empty without it.

As you read Jeffers's amazing story, you feel the girl's heart filling with joy, then draining with sadness and finally finding solace as she navigates through the pain of loss to find a way to start over.

Achingly beautiful and a must for any child or adult confronting grief, the story opens with the girl at the happiest she can be, devouring every magical thing about life, and sharing her excitement with an aging man who we assume is her grandpa.

The man with the cane is always available to her, watching patiently as she marvels at a flower in the woods and listening as she explodes with thoughts of swimming with a whale or wonders aloud whether a boat could slide off the earth into the universe.

On one page, the man sits in his big armchair, fielding the questions that seem to burst out of her, and on another, he lays beside her under a canopy of stars, pointing to the big dipper as the girl imagines a shooting star is a flaming bee streaking across the sky.

At times, no words pass between them. They just are -- the man in a row boat and the girl floating nearby on her back in the water, taking in the wonders around them.

Then one day, the girl draws a picture of the whale she longs to swim with and races over to the big chair to share it with the man, but the chair is empty.

There is a permanence to the emptiness and she knows the man has passed away.

The girl sits motionless, staring at the chair as the sky outside fades to night and only a stream of moonlight fills the room. The picture lays forgotten on the floor behind her.

Unsure of how to go on, the girl withdraws within herself, closing her heart up in a bottle to keep it safe.

Though her heart is never far from her (the bottle hangs around her neck), it is far enough that she doesn't have to feel anything and for awhile this seems to work for her.

But in truth the girl has lost more than she realizes.

Now grown, she no longer notices the stars or the sea, or much of anything except the bottle, which has grown heavy and awkward around her neck. Yet she accepts the burden because she thinks her heart is safe.

Then one day the woman happens along a little girl on the beach building a castle out of sand. The little girl wonders aloud if an elephant could swim in the sea and suddenly it occurs to the woman what she must do.

Jeffers's book pulls you in, but never overwhelms you with sadness; it leaves you feeling that you too can get through the worst and continue on.

His art style, so spare and gentle, tempers the sorrow that unfolds, while the symbolism in the book resonates -- the empty chair in a darkening room, the bottle that protects the girl's heart from being hurt anymore.

Jeffers seems to want us to know from the very start that this is a book for everyone, describing the girl as being "much like any other" on the first page.

A good companion to Michael Rosen and Quentin Blake's Sad Book, The Heart and the Bottle is for anyone who has felt the loss of someone dear and anyone who has yet to feel grief but may need help one day finding her way back.

Don't miss the book trailer below of Jeffers talking about his artwork, previous books and the origins of The Heart and the Bottle, which will be featured in the independent film This Beautiful Fantastic, scheduled to begin filming this year.

Other wonderful books by Jeffers include The Way Back Home, The Incredible Book Eating Boy and Lost and Found.

Wendel's Workshop

Written and illustrated by Chris Riddell

Katherine Tegen Books, 2010

$16.99, ages 4-8, 32 pages

Wendel the inventor gets so distracted making devices that he doesn't think about all of the stuff he throws away in this clever book about reusing what you have even if it's less than perfect.

When one of Wendel's inventions has a glitch, the eccentric mouse scoots it to the back of his workshop or dumps it through a chute, jettisoning it to the scrap yard outside. And for a time, the rubbish is easy to ignore.

But one day, the mountains of scrap metal begin to close in on Wendel and he can no longer avoid all of the springs, levers and bolts piling up in his workshop. So Wendell sets to work building a robot to deal with the mess for him.

As with many first tries, his robot, Clunk, isn't quite right. The thing is, he's a goof. Instead of folding clothes, he knots them. Rather than stacking teacups in the cupboard, he tosses them in a sock drawer. And when he washes floors he scrubs with the wrong end of the mop.

So, of course, Wendel reverts to what he's always done. He gets rid of his failed invention, tossing the ungainly Clunk through the rubbish chute. Poor Clunk. He is after all a well-meaning galoot.

Being an inventor, the wheels in Wendel's head continue to spin and right away he sets off to contrive a bigger, better robot. This one doesn't have Clunk's goofy grin and looks like an imperial metal mouse. His ears are made of satellite dishes, his eyes glow red and Wendell names him "Wendelbot."

But Wendelbot works a little too perfectly. He crushes Wendel's dirty teacups into a neat pile of powder, flattens the laundry basket and suddenly he's chasing down Wendel and dropping him from his tail into the chute. (To be fair, Wendel is looking a little disheveled -- his hair is tousled and his overalls droop.)

Wendel lands at the tip-top of the scrap heap outside, dazed by his predicament, but soon he's roused by the sound of Clunk climbing around in the junk pile. Grabbing Clunk's skinny metal leg, Wendel hugs him will all of his might.

As the sounds of Wendelbot bashing about grow louder, Wendel turns to Clunk to help him stop the giant robo mouse. But what use could all of this rubble in the yard be to Wendel?

Riddell's illustrations are always so energetic and imaginative that even before you open his books, you know you're in for a treat. And this one is no exception. It's quirky, lively and fun, and on top of that it teaches two great lessons:

Whenever possible, find new uses for things you ordinarily throw away, and keep plugging away at whatever you like to do, even if it doesn't quite work at first and needs adjustments along the way.

I loved that Riddell chose a mouse for the part of Wendel, given that mice are such inquisitive busy-bodies and that he poked fun at the stereotype of inventors as dogged recluses that insist their contraptions will make life easier.

And as always, I was taken in by Riddell's whimsical illustrations -- I can't think of a better artist to contrive robots. I loved that my 6-year-old son carried this book around with him all day, drawing his own version of mechanical guys with plunger legs and articulated steel fingers.

As a side note, if you ever have a chance to go to a Riddell book signing, bring your kids. He's a generous illustrator and will often draw quick pen sketches of his characters for kids to take home. All three of our boys have framed their's and are bursting to draw like their buddy Chris.

The Sable Quean (Redwall)

By Brian Jacques, illustrated by Sean Charles Rubin

Philomel Books, 2010

$23.99, ages 12 and up, 368 pages

What happens when two battle-crazed hares, one an expert with a sword, the other a champion with a spoon, set off for adventure in Mossflower Wood and run into a pack of vermin that is up to no good?

A rousing good tale of good versus evil, with plenty of breaks in the ruckus for plum duff and cordial, ditties and marching tunes, and a riddle to aide our humble heroes in uncovering what is hidden.

In this splendid 21st book in the epic, best-selling Redwall series, we find yet another vicious band of no-gooders trying to upset the bucolic world of the squirrels, otters and other gentle woodlanders of Mossflower.

Buckler Kordyne, a brave warrior hare, has been sent away from the mountain fortress Salamandastron with his food-guzzling scout Diggs to figure out what he wants from life when he stumbles upon a sinister plan to steal away Mossflower's young ones and take over Redwall Abbey.

Until now, the woodlanders had been enjoying peace in Mossflower and believed the days of battling their enemies the Ravagers were over -- which made for a pleasant time inside Redwall, but had amounted to a dull life for Blademaster Buck, who hungered for adventure.

Salamandastron's Badger Lord could see that young Buck was frustrated with teaching sword fighting; Buck disparaged it as "playing at being a warrior" and was acting rebellious. So the Badger Lord ordered him to take time off to travel with his trusted assistant, the hare Subaltern Digglethwaite, Diggs.

Buck is told to travel to his brother's farm and along the way to stop by Redwall to give the Abbess Marjoram a gift of new ropes for its bell tower, but the closer the young swordsman and his chunnery friend get to the monastery-like Redwall, the less tranquil the countryside seems to be.

First they run into a scoundrel fox and weasel trying to kidnap a shrewmaiden named Flib then meet up with a family of actors, The Witherspyk Performing Players, whose raft has run aground and before there's time to help them refloat the raft, the family's hedgehog twins and Flib go missing.

Hoping that the gentle folk at Redwall may have seen the little ones, Buck, Diggs and the Witherspyk family decide to head downstream to the abbey, aided by an army of compassionate Guosim shrews who lash their longboats to the side of the raft and join in the paddling.

But at Redwall, the news is bleak: two more babes are missing there as well. A vermin caught inside the refuge confesses that a vixen known as Vilaya the Sable Quean and her ruthless warrior Zwilt the Shade are sending Ravagers into the woodland to steal young ones.

Unless Buck, Diggs and the woodlanders can find Althier, an underground cave where the children are hidden, before a horde of Ravagers descends upon the abbey, they could lose Redwall, and worse yet, their young ones. But who is this mad hog Triggut Frap doing prowling around the babes?

It will take all of the good creatures in Mossflower, including its late savior Martin the Warrior mouse, a warrior mole, an old volewife and a heavy-handed badgermaid, to save the day.

The Sable Quean was a delight from the moment I opened it. I loved how richly the Mossflower world was imagined, from the woodlanders' brogues to their savory feasts and ballads. But the greatest draw for me was observing the animals interact, the banter that goes on, the harmless jabs, the camaraderie.

I had this strange and wonderful feeling that I was there too -- that the gentle folk had laid out a welcome mat for me to join in their adventure, a figurative pat on the back and boisterous "Over here, friend," before passing a scone and leading me along on their quest.

Cloud Tea Monkeys

By Mal Peet and Elspeth Graham, Illustrated by Juan Wijngaard

Candlewick, 2010

$15.99, ages 4-8, 56 pages

When a farmer forbids Tashi from taking her sick mother's place in the tea fields, a troop of monkeys brings the peasant girl the most exquisite tea in the land in this breathtaking Chinese fable about extending the hand of kindness.

Every morning before sunrise a barefoot Tashi tags along with her mother, aunt and a woman friend as they carry baskets larger than Tashi down the hill to the tea plantation and labor under the watch of a critical Overseer.

Tashi, who is only slightly taller than her mother's waist, is too young to pick tea and amuses herself while they work under the shade of a tree, sharing fruit from her lunch bag with a family of monkeys that has been chased from the plantation by the Overseer.

One day, Tashi's mother becomes too ill to go to work and Tashi tries to fill in for her picking tea leaves so she can pay a doctor to make her well, but the Overseer berates her for trying and kicks over her basket.

Then Tashi's aunt, too fearful of losing her job, turns her back on Tashi.

Feeling alone and helpless, Tashi runs crying to the tree, as the monkeys circle around her, coming closer than they ever have before.

With no one else to turn to, she shares what has happened with the monkeys. But her sorrow only grows when a few of the adult monkeys grab her empty basket and run away with it up the mountains.

Too upset to cry out, Tashi curls up with the youngest monkeys and falls asleep, only to be awakened by a loud chatter. The adult monkeys have returned with her basket filled to the top with sprigs of the most magical mist-washed tea.

Thinking she might have another chance with the Overseer, Tashi drags the basket back to the farm, only to stop in her tracks when she sees the Empress's Royal Tea Tester, who has come to the plantation in search of the finest teas.

When the tea tester tastes Tashi's tea, he's amazed that such a small girl could pick such exquisite "cloud" tea -- the tea can only be found in high, dangerous parts of the mountains -- and makes her an offer she can't refuse.

Peet and Graham set up the story so beautifully that you come away from this gentle tale feeling as though you've walked in Tashi's shoes, while Wijngaard's artwork is stunning.

He envelops you in subtle changes in light, especially as the sun rises, and paints the facial expressions of characters so vividly that you feel as though you can see into their character.

Making Sense of the Gods: Five Fun Myth Books

Young Zeus

By G. Brian Karas

Scholastic Press, 2010

$17.99, ages 4-18, 48 pages

Encyclopedia Mythologica:
Gods & Heroes

By Matthew Reinhart and Robert Sabuda

Candlewick Press, 2010

$29.99, ages 9-12, 12 pages

Mythical gods may not rank up there with wizards and vampires as your child's favorite characters -- and not surprisingly. With so many duking it out for control over the universe, it's enough to make your child's head spin.

But when you think about how often myths pop up in children's books -- from Chris Van Allsburg's The Wreck of the Zephyr to Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians series -- it's hard not to want to nudge your child to learn the basics.

Just knowing a little about the gods, heroes and beasts of Greek, Roman and Nordic mythology can enrich your child's reading experience -- and ideally, give them insight into some of the books they already love to read.

The challenge, of course, is finding mythology books that are interesting enough to draw readers away from their usual selections and brush up on who's who.

Fortunately there are some really great books that bring levity, clarity and a lot fun to the subject.

One of my new favorites is Karas's Young Zeus -- a perfect picture book to introduce young readers to the Greek gods' family tree. Karas retells the story of the chief deity in such a playful way its seems more like a fairy tale than an ancient legend.

The book opens with the queen of heaven Rhea whisking her baby son Zeus out of harm's way to the island of Crete. Fearing that Zeus's sinister father, the Titan Cronus, will eat Zeus if he discovers his son is still alive, Rhea asks an enchanted she-goat Amaltheia to keep Zeus hidden until he's grown.

Though Zeus is happy playing in the golden sun with all of the beasts and birds of Crete, he misses playing with other gods, and asks "Ammy" (Amaltheia) why he's all alone. Like all Greek mythology, it's complicated, but Ammy manages to give Zeus a good run-through of the quarrels that led to his dilemma.

First, of course, was the marital discord between his grandparents the sky god Uranus and earth god Gaia -- Uranus loved twelve of his children, the Titans, but was so ashamed of the six who were monsters that he locked them away in the underworld against his wife's wishes.

Then there's that louse Cronos, who was asked by his mother Gaia to dethrone Uranus and free his six monster siblings, but instead left them in the underworld to suffer. He was so power-hungry that he eventually gobbled up all of his children (except Zeus of course) for fear they might overthrow him.

Little did Cronos know, however, that when he began to eat his kids, his wife Rhea wrapped a rock up in a blanket to look like Zeus, and stole Zeus away to safety, which brings Ammy to the end of her story -- and the beginning of Zeus's legendary fight for justice.

On the next pages, Zeus embarks on a quest to free his siblings, the other Olympians, from his father's stomach and together with the help of his uncles in the underworld, defeat Cronos and his other sons, the wicked Titans.

Karas brings humor and magic to this tale, depicting scenes as I child might imagine them. There's mother Rhea sweeping down like a storm cloud with baby Zeus, then a young Zeus, nearly as tall as the tree he's sitting by, moping with his head in his hands because he doesn't have any gods to play with.

Another splendid new release is Reinhart and Sabuda's Encyclopedia Mythologica: Gods & Heroes, an overview of ancient myths with intricate pop-ups no child can resist.

On one page Thor, the Nordic sky god, pops out at readers with a magical hammer over his head while on another an Aztec serpent flies toward them with its jaws open. (Just be sure to open and close each spread slowly. Some pop-ups have to be guided closed to prevent elements from overlapping and ripping.)

Watch a book trailer of the pop-up below!

You also can't go wrong with the 2007 Mythology and the 2009 followup The Mythology Handbook: An Introduction to the Greek Myths, both part of Candlewick's "Ology" series.

Mythology, the scrapbook of fictional nineteenth century scholar Lady Hestia Evans, includes fun pull-out parts and flaps, and curiosities. including a card game featuring the 12 Olympians. The Mythology Handbook, a workbook of lessons for Hestia's two children, includes mazes, a word search using Greek letters, stickers, fact files and maps.

Another wonderful book is Eric A. Kimmel and Pep Montserrat's The McElderry Book of Greek Myths, a 2008 release from Margaret K. McElderry. Perfect for bedside reading, the anthology brings to life 12 myths (among them Pandora's Box and the story of Pygmalion) with richly colored images that meander around the text.

The Wish Stealers

By Tracy Trivas

Aladdin, 2010

$16.99, ages 8-12, 284 pages

Griffin Penshine never thought twice about making a wish until the day she met an old woman and accepted her box of stolen wishes. Now one wrong wish from Griffin could lead to powerful trouble unless she can return 11 pennies to their rightful owners.

In this charming debut by Trivas, Griffin is the kind of girl who throws caution to the wind: she never misses a chance to blow dandelion fluff or rescue a friend's loose eyelash so she can make a wish of her own, and she never hesitates to wish wondrous things, like raindrops turning into chocolate.

But when 12-year-old Griffin is tricked into becoming the new guardian of stolen wishes on the eve of her sixth grade year, suddenly all of her good thoughts are being cancelled out and anything she wishes for out of anger but doesn't really mean (especially toward the nasty girl in class) is coming true.

Unless Griffin can figure out how to break the curse of being a wish stealer, she could lose all of the things she's dreamed about, becoming an amazing bass guitarist, having a healthy new baby sister, seeing grandma recover from her dizzy spells, and all that's good inside of her could shrivel up just like it did in the old lady who stole the wishes.

Griffin's troubles begin one afternoon at her neighbor Mr. Schmidt's antique store. While tagging along with her astronomer mother Dr. Penshine, Griffin is approached by his great-aunt Mariah Weatherby Schmidt and offered a shiny penny and a box of polishing cloths. Though deep down Griffin wants to refuse the gift, something inside her can't resist.

The penny, an 1897 Indian Head, seems to have a hypnotic pull over her and that night, Griffin discovers that it's not the only one. During a thunder strike the box of polishing clothes mysteriously pops open and reveals 10 more Indian Head pennies and a note from Mariah, detailing a wicked curse that she's passed on to Griffin.

Long ago Mariah stole pennies from a wishing fountain to indulge herself with treats. Every time she scooped up change, she blocked any wish someone made from coming true. Now that Mariah is 92 and her life is coming to a close, she's chosen Griffin to be the next wish stealer -- anyone in possession of the stolen pennies automatically bears the curse -- and made it next to impossible for Griffin to do anything about it.

Mariah warns Griffin that wish stealers are controlled by three rules: 1. Their good wishes can no longer come true. 2. Anything evil they wish for will happen. 3. If a wish stealer tells anyone about the curse, that person will be doomed for life and will never have wishes come true. What's more the longer a wish stealer is in possession of stolen wishes, the more corrupt she becomes.

Not a great beginning for Griffin's sixth grade year, but with a little insight from ancient alchemists, an eerie troupe of traveling Shakespearean actresses, and a Pennies for the Planet fundraising campaign, and some guidance from her grandmother, Griffin might just find there's something more powerful than a wicked curse.

This story sparkles from start to finish -- the perfect pick-me-up for any reader who's ever thrown a wish to the wind. Every chapter ends with an inspirational quote about believing in yourself and not letting others trounce on your dreams, either from a famous thinker or the author, including some I'm sure to borrow.

My favorites, "Stuff your ears with clouds," (Grandma Penshine's advice if someone tries to pull you down with negativity), and philosopher Joseph Campbell's "Follow your bliss."

Consider sending this gem to your favorite middle-grade reader, along with a box of 11 shiny pennies she can label and give away, as well as a few good luck charms similar to those given to Griffin by her grandmother, a shiny river rock, a ring with a faux blue gem and one lucky penny of her own.

Then check out these great websites under my "BLOGS AND LINKS I'M FOLLOWING" -- www.penniesfortheplanet.org and www.worldwishproject.com -- and help turn wishes into gold.

The Purple Kangaroo

by Michael Ian Black, illustrated by Peter Brown

Simon & Schuster, 2010

$16.99, ages 4-8, 32 pages

In this goofy fun book by Comedy Central comedian Black, a monkey claims to be a mind-reader and tricks readers into thinking exactly what he wants them to.

When readers first meet the monkey, he appears be running a lemonade stand. But then he starts talking about reading their minds and it's clear he isn't selling drinks.

What this long-tailed wiseacre is "selling" is a joke, but first he's got to set it up and give readers a good mental image, in this case one so vivid that it will seem like their own.

The monkey, a slick fellow with a perma press smile, opens his routine using the element of surprise.

Hidden behind the lemonade stand, he calls out, "Hey Kid!… I can read minds. It's true. In fact, I can read YOUR mind."

Then he pops up from behind the stand, and slides a "Mind Reader" sign over the one reading "Lemonade" on the stand.

(Clearly this is a bit the monkey's done before.)

Next, he asks readers to think of something "so spectacular that nobody has ever thought of it in the entire history of thinking about things."

He plugs his ears and asks readers to say their thought out loud, assuring them that he can't hear anything they say.

After all, "I'm just a picture in a book."

Next, readers witness the monkey's "unusual, incredible, amazing, and slightly alarming magical powers" (his eyes spiral), as he makes a wild guess at what they're thinking.

"You were thinking about a purple kangaroo!" he exclaims.

Of course that wasn't what readers were thinking about and the monkey, like any smooth-talker, has already thought of what to say before readers can reply.

Pretending he needs to jar their memory of the kangaroo, the monkey launches into a succession of absurd details about the kangaroo.

You remember, he says emphatically,...

The monkey who was looking for his chinchilla friend Senor Ernesto de Pantalones while roller skating and juggling five fragrant bananas?

The one who blew an enormous bubble of rainbow gum out of his nose and was showered with gold coins for his feat?

The one who then used the money to hire a rhino to fly him in a paisley blimp into the stratosphere so he could search for his friend?

The one who found his friend waving a flag on the moon?

Well, he adds with a fit of laughter, you're thinking about it now!

A goof at heart, Black uses the craft of joke-telling, adds in a bit of absurdity and creates a book too silly to resist.

Black co-stars with Michael Showalter in Comedy Central's "Michael & Michael Have Issues."

Don't miss the hilarious video below of Black reading his book!

The Chestnut King

By N.D. Wilson

Random House Books for Young Readers, 2010

$16.99, ages 9 and up, 496 pages

It's been three years since N.D. Wilson wowed readers with the first installment of The 100 Cupboards trilogy, and as the series comes to a close, I feel as though I've come out of an incredible adventure.

In much the same way that D.M. Cornish's mythical Half-Continent in the Monster Blood Tattoo series seemed so tangible and alive, Wilson's Henry, Kansas, and his worlds of the cupboards, Baden Hill, Hylfing and even Endor feel like places I've entered.

In this last, climactic book about Henry York and the magical cupboards he found hidden in his aunt and uncle's Kansas farmhouse, Henry is no longer the naive, sheltered boy who wonders why he's so disconnected from the parents who raised him in Boston.

Though still a nervous boy prone to throwing up when he's scared, he is now the powerful seventh son in a line of seventh sons, rooted to another world that he's destined to protect.

It's been a year since Henry and cousin Henrietta found seams leading to other worlds through 100 cabinets in the farmhouse attic and their late grandfather's bedroom, and a year since they made the mistake of wandering too far into one and freeing an evil witch-queen from her tomb.

In that time, Henry has made discoveries he never imagined, most importantly that he was born into one of these magical worlds in a seaside town known as Hylfing.

There, behind one of the cupboards, Henry is reunited with his birth mother Hyacinth and sisters Una and Isa, and christened Henry York Macabee just in time to free his legendary birth father, Mordecai Westmore, from a faeren curse and help bring down one of witch-queen's henchmen with a magical arrow.

Now turning 13, Henry has settled into his new life in Hylfing, occasionally sneaking back to Kansas through a cupboard he moved from the farmhouse attic to a shed by his birth parents' home to pitch baseballs to his friend Zeke Johnson, but now he's saddled with an enormous burden.

The witch-queen, Nimiane, whom he released from cupboard number 8 when a mythical creature, a raggant, came looking for him, is leaving a trail of death across the worlds. She wants to devour life from the city of Dumarre, the capitol of his new home, and turn it into a new Endor, an empire of death.

Nimiane, who is blind and sees through a cat she carries, also wants to find Henry, take over his soul and gain strength from his newfound powers.

In the second book, Dandelion Fire, Henry's palm was branded with the magic of dandelion fire, a supernatural power that guards his soul from evil and gives him second sight to escape the witch-queen's trickery, but he was also scarred by Nimiane.

During a confrontation in the farmhouse, Nimiane's blood wormed into his jaw, and now it threatens to spread into his brain and turn Henry into a fingerling, a dead body that does Nimiane's bidding through a finger that sprouts from its head.

The question that keeps us riveted in Book 3 is whether Henry's dandelion fire will be a match for Nimiane's immortality, her "great, grinding death," or whether his mark will be her curse?

Like dandelion weeds, which find life again by broadcasting seeds and multiply quickly, his dandelion fire gains strength from its own renewal -- but as Nimiane feeds off of the living, her power also grows, as does the scar in Henry's jaw that's pulling him to her.

Henry knows his father Mordecai and uncle Caleb entombed the witch-queen once when they were young and might be able to do so again, but this would not save Henry's life. Only when the witch-queen dies will the cold blood in his jaw die as well.

But killing off an undying queen may not even be possible, especially now that the emperor of Dumarre has made a deal with Nimiane.

In exchange for giving his City of the Seas immortality, he is letting the witch-queen hide in his palace and control his fleet in the harbor, as her witch-dogs, wizards, and fingerlings order his imperial soldiers to kill those who oppose her.

And now Mordecai and Uncle Caleb have gone to Endor to search for a way to kill the witch and save Henry's life, and unknowingly left Hylfing vulnerable to soldiers under the witch-queen's control.

Just when Henry is reunited with his brother James, soldiers break into their Hylfing home and haul James away with Uncle Frank, Aunt Dottie, Hyacinth, Isa, cousin Penelope, and wizard friend Monmouth to an imperial ship. Soon after, they burn down their home, entrapping his grandmother, Henrietta and his loyal raggant inside.

Henry's only hope to save his family, his world and himself could rest with The Chestnut King, the ruler of an aloof band of pirate faeries. Mordecai thinks the king, known as Nudd, may know where to find an ancient relic believed to control the witch-queen's immortality, the Blackstar.

But even if Nudd knows where the star is, will he be willing to help? He's already sent his faeren to capture Henry's friend, the rogue faerie Fat Frank, and taken his cousin Anastasia, Una and friend Richard with him. Will he prove to be friend or foe? And if he does agree to help, at what cost?

Though Wilson's descriptions of Endor's history are at times complex, I was completely enthralled in this series and loved every moment.

I was drawn to the inventiveness of Wilson's story, and how skillfully he moved it along, quickly shifting among different characters and their adventures. At times it felt as if the characters barely caught their breath and they were thrown back into danger.

I also liked how genuine the characters felt, the frailty Wilson shows in each of them, as well as the loyalty, boldness and humor.

One of the great lines of the book comes from Zeke after a near-death escape with Henry and Henrietta from fingerlings into Kansas.

Henry is feeling defeated and Henrietta, always a bit brash, is giving him an earful for daring to suggest that he give up.

She rattles off all the ways they could still try to bring down the witch-queen -- poison her, bomb her, burn her -- when Zeke chimes in and suggests they get Frodo to destroy her like he did the Dark Lord in J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.

"Maybe she has a ring," he says. "All we need is a hobbit and a volcano."

Wilson's humor, often subtle and unexpected, comes through at just the right moments, adding levity during the darkest parts of the book and heightening the euphoria when Henry's family and friends make it through another close call.

I loved the subtle symbolism in the book, the nod to the Wizard of Oz (Henry's uncle name is Frank and his wife Dottie's name is short for Dorothy), the references to baseball, and the care Wilson took to carry through every theme to the end, no matter how secondary it became as the main story advanced, including how life continued in Henry, Kansas, after Henry and his family left.

One of the risks of any series is that over the course of several books a plot can lose its momentum and spark, but Wilson's imagination was always up to the challenge. His story line, so unique and imaginative, never languished over the three books, and I was continually carried away from my own reality.

At times I caught my eyes darting from one line to the next, my hands gripping either side of the book and myself holding my breath as Henry York and his family struggled to escape danger.

I only wish there was another adventure still to come for Henry York, but for now, I'll be content with whatever Wilson sends our way.