The Magic Thief, Lost, by Sarah Prineas

In Sarah Prineas's fast-paced debut book, The Magic Thief, a crafty street urchin named Conn filches Nevery the Wizard’s magic tool – his locus magicalicus – yet manages to do the unheard of-survive. Intrigued, Nevery takes Conn in as his apprentice and ultimately Conn solves the mystery of the city of Wellmet’s weakening magic.

Prineas’s equally exciting sequel, Lost, picks up a few months later. Here we once more meet up with Conn and Nevery the Wizard, as well as Benet, Nevery’s muscle man (and perhaps Prineas’s most unique character). We also become reacquainted with the duchess’s daughter, Lady Rowan, and the sinister Shadowmen that turn people into stone.

Again, Wellmet’s magic is waning and the Shadowmen have returned in increasing numbers. Having lost his own locus magicalicus, Conn must resort to pyrotechnics, or fireworks, to speak with the magic that has always protected Wellmet. Nevery warns Conn that pyrotechnics are dangerous and forbidden. After all, they damaged his home, Heartstease. Undaunted and desperate to communicate with the magic the only way he can, Conn perseveres until his hopes are literally blown to pieces and disaster ensues, injuring somebody near and dear to him.

As expected, the magisters of Wellmet banish Conn from the city so he sets off for the city of Desh in search of the source of Wellmet’s weakening magic and the mystery of the Shadowmen. He is not disappointed.

Lost is as fast-paced and exciting as Prineas's first book, The Magic Thief, albeit slightly darker. As a streetwise, rough-edged character with a big heart, Conn makes an intriguing hero with a distinctive voice. Although gray bearded Nevery the Wizard is something of a stock character, he makes an apt mentor for Conn, and Lady Rowan, the duchess's daughter, serves as a strong-willed, sword-wielding foil for Conn.

The setting is as dark, intriguing and fully realized as the story line and the characters.

Antonio Javier Caparo's small black and white illustrations complement and enhance the story's mysterious atmosphere. In addition, Prineas includes some of Benet's favorite recipes, some notes on sword craft and a key to the runic alphabet used occasionally throughout the story.

Lost is a well-conceived story and artfully designed book for middle grade kids that leaves some room for the final book in the trilogy. If it's anything like the first two, it's certain to be a bumpy and enthralling journey.

A Poem From the Past

I've been sorting through my files lately and coming across lots of interesting, half-forgotten stuff - some that I found stashed inside boxes as we were cleaning out my mom's house a few years ago. Lately I've been trying to pull together some poetry for a critique. I believe this is one of the first poems I ever wrote. I was 12 at the time.

Life From A Lion's Point of View

Trapped in a world that's hardly all my own,
People look at me and I groan.
Through metal bars and over stone walls,
I get some very uninvited calls.
People gape and stare and look
At what they could see in an animal book.
I'm bombed with peanuts, which I hate,
And I got stuck with some dumpy, ugly mate.
I've never snored, for I've never slept.
You wouldn't either if you lived where I'm kept.
The water is scummy and filled with bacteria
And the apes next door drive me into hysteria.
Every night at twelve o'clock
The laughing hyena gives every beast a shock!
Oh how I wish I could be released
And then maybe - just maybe- I could get some peace.

Easier Things Than Writing?

I have neglected this poor blog for far too long now. For a while - longer than I expected - I had a miserable case of the flu. It was going around the school and I managed to come down with a nasty, gut wrenching case that wiped me out for nearly 3 weeks. Aargh!

Anyhow, I'm better now and back to working on my WIP which I'm determined to finish this summer. Some days, though, writing is sooo hard. I can think of lots of things that are easier. Here are a few:

1. Weeding the garden. Over the past few days, I've pulled up buckets of weeds. While my garden looks much neater, my novel is still here, waiting for me. The weeds will grow without me, but my novel? Nope.

2. Watering the plants. All my houseplants are well-watered and fertilized. In addition, I've deadheaded my planters full of petunias out on the deck.

3. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. I love the puzzle, but when I'm trying to finish a novel, I really should ignore it.

4. Playing online Scrabble. I've beaten the maven three times over the past 4 days at the second highest level. Yippee! This does nothing for my novel.

5. Going to the gym and lifting weights. Something about torturing myself makes me feel a little less guilty.

6. Paying all my bills. What am I,crazy? I mean, I always pay my bills, but who ever heard of paying them weeks in advance?

So, now I MUST get back to work on my WIP. It will not write itself. As Jane Yolen says, you must practice BIC (butt in chair).

Michael Jackson Best Dance Moves

You can say what you want about Michael Jackson, but there was never any question about his raw talent. As a kid, he was a kind of child prodigy. I still have one of his record albums - Off the Wall - which I played over and over again. It always managed to get me motivated, no matter how tired I was feeling. His music was energetic and toe tapping, but I was always more impressed by his incredible, innovative dance moves. Nobody could dance quite like Michael. I hope his poor tortured soul has finally found some peace.

Publishing Date

I and the members of my critique group, The Poet's Garage, will be having an anthology of our poems published by Marshall Cavendish on July 15, 2010. That's next year! The title is officially, "An Eyeball in My Garden: and Other Spine-Tingling Poems. Marshall Cavendish is still negotiating for an illustrator but will let us know who it is just as soon as everything is finalized.

This is a dream come true for most of us. Never did I think that the first book I had published would be a group project. How fun! Perhaps this project will open a few doors for us, although I won't be holding my breath on that.

In the meantime, I plan to push through to the end of my novel this summer. Psychologically, I need to get it finished. It's been weighing on me. So, I have my summer plans cut out for me. Onward ho!

Goodbye Runaway Bay

Recently, Sayville's indie bookstore, Runaway Bay Books, closed it doors after nearly 20 years. It was a sad day, to be sure. Runaway Bay's owner, Marianne Bastion, was the quintessential bookstore owner - sweet, bookish and knowledgeable - and her store was cozy and always welcoming. She provided chairs for browsers and a few friendly bookstore cats to warm their laps (actually, they were strays that she'd taken in and had neutered). On Christmas eve, she hosted a reading of A Christmas Carol and anybody who felt like it could volunteer to read a few pages. She hosted a Harry Potter release party, supported local authors and poets and even helped my son when he was building a library at Stony Brook Hospital for his Eagle Scout badge. If you didn't see what you wanted, Marianne would order it for you and call you at home when it came in.

We knew Marianne well. We remembered when she was pregnant with her daughter, Rose, and when she gave birth to her. We watched Rose grow up before our eyes. Marianne Bastion was a local - our friend and neighbor.

Runaway Bay closed for a couple of different reasons -- too much competition from Borders on Sunrise Highway, too much competition from Amazon and other online book retailers and greedy landlords bent on raising the rent during one of the worst economic downturns in American history. So, we lost a pillar of our charming community. As residents of the village of Sayville, most of us try to patronize the local businesses whenever possible. Personally, I'd rather deal with a privately owned business where the owners know my name than a huge impersonal franchise like the current day Borders.

Of course, the original Border's in Ann Arbor was much different from the chainstores now in existence. I grew up in Michigan and whenever we drove into Ann Arbor (about 20 miles from home) I had to go to Border's. It was the most wonderful bookstore with 2 or 3 floors crammed chock full of nothing but books, books and more books. No toys, dolls and other junk. Just lots and lots of great books. At one time, Border's was also an indie bookstore - one that got too big and, in my humble opinion, somehow lost its way.

Please, patronize your local indie bookstore!

Winding Down

As the school year winds down, I always seem to get madly busy and this year is no exception. Besides preparing next year's book order (a job I honestly relish but find frustrating because my wants always exceed my budget), preparing my supply order, chasing down overdue books from kids and trying to conduct some kind of an inventory while maintaining a full schedule of classes (because they won't give us time for inventory anymore), one thing we all must do now is to write about our end of the reflections. Ugh!

It used to be we simply jotted down a few highlights from the past school year and that was that. Alas, that was in the good old days! Our end of the year reflections have since taken on a life of their own. In fact, it's now synonymous with the worst kind of essay exam - you know, the kind with the questions that make you squirm in your seat as you stare out the window and wrack your brain in an effort to find something semi intelligent to say. This was the first year I actually had to look up some things in a reference source. The more we get paid, it seems, the more they ask us to justify our worth. I understand, truly I do.

One thing we were asked to so this year was explain how we made a difference in the life of one student in particular. It was a tough, but good question, and I had to pause a while to ponder it. When you're a teacher, sometimes it's not always evident if you've reached your goals. You hope so, but you can't always be sure. When a carpenter builds a bookcase or a gardener plants a garden, he can step back and marvel over what he's accomplished by the sweat of his own brow. Even after a morning or an hour of writing, we have something we can see, something tangible to hold in our hands. But when you teach, you often walk away wondering if anything you said penetrated their gray matter.

When you work in a library, it's even harder. I see all the students in our building as well as about half the students in another building. My goal has always been to make readers of my students. I feel that a love for reading is the best recipe for success in school - perhaps even life.

So, here's the story I shared.

I had a student, a bright but rather neglected boy who often came to school a little grubby and tired. He often seemed sad, sometimes angry. Perhaps he had good reason to be. At any rate, this boy wasn’t reading and it seemed I couldn’t reach him,no matter how many great books I placed before him. One day, I put some new sports biographies on display. Those caught his eye. He stared at them for a few minutes before turning to ask me if he could take one out. “Of course,” I told him, “that’s what they’re for.” So he took out a book about Eli Manning. After he’d returned it, he asked if he could take out another. And then another. And so it went. I often put aside sports biographies for him that I thought he’d especially like. He always seemed grateful. Eventually, he ran through most of those so I suggested some novels about athletes, such as Thank-you, Jackie Robinson, by Barbara Cohen, and Heat, by Mike Lupica. After he ran through those, he decided to try something different. I got him to check out The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe which led him to the rest of C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, and then other fantasies, mysteries,and some realistic stories about kids like him coping with difficult situations. Books won't necessarily solve anybody’s problems, but they can extend hope to them. By offering them a portal into other worlds, other lives, books can help light the way for children as they navigate their way along the thorny road to adulthood.

To teach is to touch a life and I hope that in some small way I have done that.