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Summary
Summary
A funny, fast-paced, and heartfelt story from the Newbery Honor-winning author of the Al Capone series.
Fifth grade is not for amateurs, according to Liam. Luckily, he knows that being more than one-third nerd is not cool. Liam lives in the Bay area near San Francisco with his mom and two younger sisters. Dakota is fascinated by science and has a big personality but struggles to make friends; Izzy, a child with Down syndrome, makes friends easily and notices things that go past everyone else. Dad lives across town, but he's over a lot. And then there's Cupcake, their lovable German shepherd, who guards their basement apartment.
Recently, Cupcake has a problem--she's peeing in the house. The kids need to make enough money to take her to the vet before their landlord upstairs finds out. And Mom and Dad have said if Cupcake doesn't stop, they will find her a new home. But the kids will never let Cupcake go. Can they save her?
Author Notes
Gennifer Choldenko was born in Santa Monica, California.
Gennifer Choldenko is a Newbery Honor-winning American writer of popular books for children and adolescents. Her first novel, Notes From a Liar and Her Dog was named "Best Book of the Year" by School Library Journal and her second, Al Capone Does My Shirts, part of Al Capone on Alcatraz series, won the 2005 Newbery Honor citation.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Fifth grader Liam lives in a basement apartment with his mom, his two younger sisters (promising third grade scientist/resident nerd Dakota and second grade expert hugger Izzy), and their accident-prone German shepherd, Cupcake. Cupcake's bathroom issues push their cranky upstairs neighbor and landlord, Mr. Torpse (also known as Torpse the Corpse), to an ultimatum: either Cupcake goes or the whole family must. Though their divorced mother and father implore the siblings to accept that Cupcake must be rehomed, the kids carry out schemes to keep the dog. Black-and-white spot illustrations by Ceulemans faithfully depict the unique personalities of Liam's siblings and friends, including new kid Moses, whom Liam desperately wants to impress. Choldenko (the Al Capone at Alcatraz series) subtly emphasizes Liam's stress about being the responsible, oldest sibling; his parents' divorce; and insecurity about the family's modest lifestyle. It is Liam's quiet thoughtfulness and relationship with his sisters, especially his interest in their lives-Izzy's Down syndrome social group "the Forty-Sevens" and Dakota's impulsive experiments-that let him shine just as bright as his two extroverted sisters. Ages 8-12. Author's agent: Elizabeth Harding, Curtis Brown. Illustrator's agent: Hannah Whitty, Plum Pudding Illustration. (Jan.) c Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Fifth-grader Liam is used to being the responsible one. With mom and dad divorced, it's his job to rein in his two younger sisters: the ever-precocious second-grader Dakota, whose science experiments rattle the neighbors, and first-grader Izzy, who has Down syndrome. But what's wreaking havoc on Liam most of all lately is his beloved pooch, Cupcake, who can't seem to refrain from peeing all over their basement apartment. Unfortunately, their elderly landlord, Mr. Torpse, says Cupcake's got to go if they can't get this situation under control, so Liam and his sisters are on it. Choldenko packs a lot into this slim volume, as Liam also struggles with his family's financial situation not imperiled, exactly, but enough to worry him and a new foe in tennis, who just so happens to be super wealthy. Liam's concerns are common for young readers, who will find much to relate to in this slice-of-life story. Expressive and amusing, Ceulemans' illustrations enhance the reading experience in a book perfect for classroom read-alouds. Simply endearing.--Jennifer Barnes Copyright 2018 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
Whats the best way to make tweens laugh? It may be books that find the comedy in coming of age. MEL BROOKS SAID IT BEST. "To me, tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die." When you're 12, though, the line between comedy and tragedy can thin to the point of translucence. Teetering on the cusp of adolescence, many kids feel that compared with the threat of embarrassment, walking into an open sewer is rather enticing. Yet the freshest fears yield the greatest comedic bounty. True schadenfreude is built on seeing your fellow humans fail with epic splendor. That's where books come in. Rather than encourage average kids' bloodthirsty instinct to cheer for the downfall of their friends and neighbors, let them delve into the fiascos of fictional characters. Three funny new novels do precisely that, appealing to kids' inclination to laugh at others' foibles and, maybe in the course of things, themselves. TO THE THREE FRIENDS in Caroline Cala's BEST BABYSITTERS EVER (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 256 pp., $13.99; ages 9 to 12), there's nothing funny about being broke and filled with an overwhelming desire to pull off the greatest mutual 13th-birthday party in history. When Malia Twiggs (named after a former first daughter and aware it "sounded kind of bootleg") stumbles on an ancient, crumbling edition of "Kristy's Great Idea," the first of Ann M. Martin's classic Baby-Sitters Club books, it's not long before she's roped her buddies Dot and Bree into updating the outdated concept. But how do you adapt a text from an era of corded phones and inexplicable loafer/vest combos to a world of babysitting apps, viral videos and parents wanting to pay via Venmo? Sure, the Baby-Sitters Club books have been successfully adapted into graphic novels that today's kids gobble up, but given that "Best Babysitters Ever" plays off some serious '80s nostalgia, a question lurks: Is the book bound to entice parents and librarians who harbor dear memories of cuddling up with their own super-special editions, more than it will speak to children? Happily, Cala manages to provide hilarity that both the intended audience and the snooping adults will appreciate on their own levels. From the start of this debut novel, Cala flexes her prodigious comedic muscles, managing to render the three friends both as sympathetic heroines and as the victims of lives more humorous than they would like. In the course of things adults are reduced to two-dimensional cutouts, particularly Dot's mother, a hippie who acts like a walk-on from "I Love You Alice B. Tokias." As the girls babysit more, things go worse and worse (aided in no small part by their utter lack of interest in wrangling children not much younger than themselves). By the time they score a massive family-reunion job, their careers end in a hilarious brouhaha involving glorious destruction and property damage. They may never get another babysitting gig, but you're hooked on their story for life. PERHAPS MALIA, dot and bree will consider alternative methods of collaboration, like writing a book together. The wellknown adult author Meg Wolitzer (whose Y.A. books include, most recently, "Belzhar") and her real-life bud Holly Goldberg Sloan ("Counting by 7's," "Short") did just that, resulting in to night OWL FROM DOGFISH (Dial, 320 pp., $17.99; ages 9 to 12). Told in a series of frantic emails and other methods of correspondence, the book chronicles the doomed love story of two men and their canny daughters. Informed by their single dads that they will soon be sisters (despite having never met), the outgoing Bett and the guarded Avery join forces to rend asunder their parents' romantic plans. When the girls attend a summer camp together and bond, the book takes a right-hand turn toward "Parent Trap" territory. A fraught trip to China wrecks the dads' relationship, but by then the girls want to force the incompatible couple back together. Whether or not they've watched "The Parent Trap," young readers who identify with Avery and Bett will want to see their fathers prove that true love conquers all. But a sneaky twist at the novel's end makes it infinitely clear that sometimes the happiness we claim to want for others is instead a projection of our own wants and needs. Built on a foundation of absurdity, coincidence and the occasional rather good one-liner, the novel manages the difficult balancing act of using increasingly ridiculous, and often funny, situations to drill home the idea that every close relationship takes hard work, particularly when things start going south. At the same time, the authors attend closely to the perceptions and interpretations of its young characters - so much so that when Avery extols stories told by unreliable narrators ("the person telling you what happened can't be trusted with the facts and you have to figure it out"), you should pay attention. WHEN BETT AND AVERY Start doubting their own friendship in the wake of their fathers' split, they have the option of never seeing each other again. Not so the woeful putz Liam and his younger siblings in Gennifer Choldenko's one-third nerd (Wendy Lamb, 224 pp., $16.99; ages 9 to 12). When you're a kid, family isn't something you get to choose. After all, Liam didn't have any say in his parents' divorce. Now he spends 90 percent of his time worrying what his classmates think of him and the remaining 10 percent worrying what his little sister Dakota (a full-fledged third-grade nerd with an unfortunate tendency to put urinerelated experiments in the family fridge) will do to embarrass him. His youngest sister, Izzy, has Down syndrome, a condition that, to his (perhaps unbelievable) credit, Liam doesn't find embarrassing at all. When their beloved, and incontinent, German shepherd has to clean up her act or face eviction by the family's crotchety landlord, the siblings seek to keep intact what little family they have. Choldenko doesn't go for the belly laughs found in Cala's and Sloan and Wolitzer's books, in part, perhaps, because she's set the stage squarely in workingclass America, where the price of a pet surgery (to solve Cupcake's problem) is no laughing matter. Nonetheless, the author sneaks in amusing moments that might catch young readers off-guard, as when we learn that Dakota once shaved off her eyebrows "to see if they served a purpose on her face," or when newspapers are placed in context as "how people used to find out things before cars but after dinosaurs." Ultimately, the humor in "One-Third Nerd" stems from Liam's relationship with Dakota. While she lunges boldly forward with plans to save the family dog, merrily disregarding common sense or her siblings' feelings - selling their personal treasures on eBay is, to her mind, a logical sacrifice on their parts - Liam trails behind in a state of high exasperation, stuck on one emotional setting, while his sister has a one-track mind. The women writing these novels are only slightly impeded by the inconvenient fact that for middle-grade comedy to bloom, it must be bounced off the fraught emotions of the prepubescent. Characters must glean meaning in the midst of the ridiculous. Choldenko adheres most closely to the serious, even as she's giving her chapters titles like "Licking Toilet Seats and Other Problems." Sloan and Wolitzer throw a serious accident into the book's third act, upping the tension but preventing the book from a final return to frothy humor. And though "Best Babysitters Ever," with its trail of gut-busters, may appear to be the least serious of the three, even that book deals with feelings of abandonment and loneliness, proving that tragedy plus time-honored humiliations equals comedy. Kids laugh that they may not weep, but who says you have to choose? Elizabeth bird is the editor of "Funny Girl," an anthology of funny female writers for kids. She blogs about children's books at School Library Journal's A Fuse #8 Production.
Kirkus Review
Best known for her Tales from Alcatraz series, Choldenko writes for a slightly younger set in this celebration of family ingenuity.It's hard enough that fifth-grader Liam's parents divorced and now he, his two younger sisters, and their single mom live in an apartment in need of repair. Their beloved dog, Cupcake, won't stop peeing on the rug, and the landlord has given them three weeks to get rid of the dogor they're all out. Episodic chapters balance depictions of the harsh realities of divorce and financial changes with amusing trial-and-error escapades as the siblings hatch moneymaking schemes to fund expensive vet tests. Along the way, the personality of each sibling shines through. Faced with more responsibility than other kids his age, Liam just wants to play tennis as well as Roger Federeror at least to keep up with Moses, a new student who seems to have it all. Third-grader and total nerd Dakota is biding her time until she can cure cancer. Second-grader and avid hugger Izzy has Down syndrome, and her inclusion is not only seamless, but integral to the plot. Even when getting on each other's nerves, they rally together when it matters most. Expressive black-line art depicts their lovable antics as well as members from their diverse community. Liam and his family are white; his best friend, Dodge, has brown skin and is likely of Latinx heritage, and Moses presents black, among other secondary characters of color.Reminiscent of Judy Blume's work, this endearing story will make many children laugh and allow some to see a part of themselves. (Fiction. 8-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Fifth grade is not for amateurs. You have to watch yourself. Kids notice stuff. What books you read. What sports you follow. What devices you own. And how nerdy you are. A little nerdy is good; you can fix the game controller. But if you're the kid who gets the teacher's website up and running so everyone has more homework . . . that's too nerdy. And then there are the subtle things, like how you raise your hand. Should you raise it high and eager? Low and mouselike? Rotate your palm? Flap it all around? Or does your arm come up straight and slow like a log on a pulley? Same with turning your homework in. Do you put it on the top of the pile? Or the bottom? Do you fold it like a paper airplane and fly it to your teacher's desk? Deliver it by drone? Or do you send it up the classroom aisle in the mouth of a robotic device? I could probably manage all this okay if it weren't for my sisters. Dakota, the third grader, is the worst. I finally get up the courage to talk to the girl everyone thinks is cute and Dakota shouts across the playground, "Liam, I need toilet paper from the boys' bathroom. There's none in the girls'." Izzy, the second grader, is a hugger. The custodian, the crossing guard, my coach . . . Izzy hugs everyone. Unfortunately, my sisters and I look alike: blond hair, blue eyes, and on the short side, so I can't hide the fact that I'm their brother. Then there's our dog, Cupcake, a black and tan German shepherd with crooked front teeth and shiny black lips. Cupcake has little accidents in our apartment. Did I mention we live under the landlord? Not that poor pee control would be a good idea in any house, but it's especially bad when you live close to your landlord. Other problems? Cupcake howls when the microwave dings. And Izzy sings all the time. Luckily, the landlord, Mr. Torpse, is hard of hearing. Once he takes his hearing aids out, Izzy can sing as much as she wants. How do we know they're out? He turns his TV up so loud it's like the voice of our principal booming from the PA at school. We hear every sound Torpse makes. When he belches, shouts at the radio, or goes to the toilet. Plus, he spies on us. He says he only comes downstairs to water the plants, right outside his window, but since there's nothing to water but dried-up weeds, I wonder. So I don't bring friends to our apartment. I don't tell people where I live. I don't even write my address on the forms at school. The only person who knows the truth is my best friend, Dodge, and he won't tell anyone. Dodge comes over every day. His grandpa Crash watches us if my mom has to work late. Some days, Crash can't get out of work either, and then I'm the one in charge for a little while. I don't see Crash's car, so I'm guessing today will be one of those days. Dodge, Dakota, and I walk from the bus stop. We climb down the steep stairs to our apartment, careful to avoid the rotted wood steps that sink when you step on them. I pull the blue key with the smiley-face sticker out from under my shirt, where it hangs on a string, and I unlock the door. Inside, I open the patio slider to let Cupcake in. She is crazy excited to see me, jumping all around. I follow Dodge to the tiny kitchen. Dodge finds the crackers and he's about to wash them down with lemonade. He squints at the glass. "Did your mom buy a new brand?" I catch a whiff and then snatch his glass out of his hand. It smells like pee! "Sorry, um . . ." I run to the bathroom, dump it, and hurry back to pour him some actual lemonade in a new glass. Who would put a glass of pee in the fridge? Dakota! Dakota has been working on the problem of why Cupcake has lost pee control. She never had a problem until a few months ago. We housebroke her when she was little. She learned so quickly. What a smart, cute puppy she was. She had the softest fur, floppy ears, and giant paws, and she made funny groaning sounds--like a dog's version of a purr. The week after my parents split up, Mom got us Cupcake. The first night we had her, she chewed off the top of a Tupperware container and wolfed down the cupcakes inside. That's how she got her name. When we lived in our old house, there was a yard for Cupcake. But in January Mom and Dad sold our house and we rented this place. Now the "yard" is a tiny patio with one plant trying hard to grow out of a crack in the cement. When it produces a leaf, Cupcake pees on it and it flops over again. My job is walking Cupcake. Mom won't let Dakota or Izzy walk her because it isn't safe in our neighborhood, but I never worry. Cupcake is the world's best watchdog. Once, a bodybuilder in a camouflage vest walked too close to me and Cupcake growled. Now when that guy sees me, he runs to the other side of the street. I never feel short when I walk Cupcake. Though I do wish we'd named her something more ferocious, like Dude or Brute. "Look, um, I'm sorry about the lemonade," I mumble to Dodge when we're out on the street. Dodge shrugs. That's Dodge for you. He rolls with everything. Excerpted from One-Third Nerd by Gennifer Choldenko All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
