reading, reviewing, and recommending middlegrade stories
An onlooker, recognizing us as psychic investigation agents, would have assumed that the bags were filled with the equipment of our trade: salt-bombs, lavender, iron filings, silver Seals and chains. This was in fact quite true, but I also carried a skull in a jar, so we weren’t entirely predictable.
The Hollow Boy
Jonathan Stroud
Grunchgirdl’es World of Curiosities perched at the end of the rickety Little Pilchton pier, like a jackdaw on a branch … Besides Sheba, the other attractions were a stuffed squirrel with a carp’s tail sewn where its legs should be (“the world’s only true mermaid!”) and a two-headed lamb called Flossy.
Freaks
Kieran Larwood
Monsters were crawling from the ruins of Bath, the whispers said, bone-thin fiends and giants as tall as the hills. On the nearby farms, people nailed herbs to their doorposts and tied their shutters closed with red ribbons.
The Peculiar
Stefan Bachmann
“Walk the plank,” says Pirate Jim.
“But Captain Jim, I cannot swim.”
“Then you must steer us through the gale.”
“But Captain Jim, I cannot sail.”
“Then down with the galley slaves you go.”
“But Captain Jim, I cannot row.”
“Then you must be the pirate’s clerk.”
“But Captain Jim, I cannot work.”
“Then a pirate captain you must be.”
“Thank you, Jim,” says Captain Me.
Pirate Captain Jim
Shel Silverstein
As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and at a glance I was sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall and strong, with a face as big as a ham—plain and pale, but intelligent and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a slap on the shoulder for the more favoured of his guests.
Treasure Island
Robert Louis Stevenson
“It’s not the cone,” said Leandra grumpily. Lots of things made Leandra grumpy lately, especially changes out of the blue. Or in this case, orange.
“It’s the color orange.”“Orange”
“You heard me. In nature, orange means good things, like pumpkins, and juice, and autumn leaves, and sunsets. But when you paint something orange it usually means something not-so-good. Except, of course, if it’s Halloween. And even Halloween is scary sometimes.”
One Day and One Amazing Morning on Orange Street
Joanne Rocklin
He had to watch helplessly while the poor creature burned itself to cinders.
And still the crazy dream went on.
The flames began to form into a fiery shape—huge red-and-orange wings, a long tail that shot out sparks, a burning scarlet beak.
Curse of the Chocolate Phoenix
Kate Saunders
