reading, reviewing, and recommending middlegrade stories
Hugo was good with clocks, too. The talent ran in the family. Hugo’s father had always brought home broken clocks for his son to play with, and by the time he was six, Hugo was able to fix just about anything.
The Invention of Hugo Cabret
Brian Selznick
Grandy is my grandparent—one of my father’s parents—but I don’t know if vo is my grandmother or my grandfather, because each week vo spends Thursday, Friday, and Saturday wearing jeans and button shirts and boots and a cap with veir hair tucked up inside, talks in a low, loud voice and goes by Vern. Then on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday vo dresses in frilly blouses and skirts and panty hose with veir hair brushed out soft and loose, talks in a high, soft voice, and goes by Vera.
Felix Yz
Lisa Bunker
His parents’ work was much too dangerous for a young boy. Especially a young boy like himself, one who liked quiet walks, reading, and drawing. Clearly he wasn’t suited to a life of adventure.
Flight of the Phoenix
R. L. LaFevers
I couldn’t keep my jaw from falling open. The house was not a house, nor was it a mansion—it was somewhere between a mall and a castle. There were more chimneys and windows than any chimney or window store could ever possibly stock.
Pillage
Obert Skye
If your last name ended in “berg” or “zog” or “stein,” you lived on the north side. If your last name ended in “elli” or “ini” or “o,” you lived on the south side….my house was right smack in the middle of town. Not on the north side. Not on the south side. Just somewhere in between.
The Wednesday Wars
Gary D. Schmidt
I am on my mountain in a tree home that people have passed without ever knowing that I am here. The house is a hemlock tree six feet in diameter, and must be as old as the mountain itself.
My Side of the Mountain
Jean Craighead George
“Aye, lad, it’s an inn,” said the ragman, and all at once it came into sight, a ramshackle, three-story house, lit up bone-white in the moonlight.
The Half-A-Moon Inn
Paul Fleischman
