
This mystery was the third pick for my fifth grade book club. The kids and I found it laugh-out-loud funny. My son said it was the best of the three books we've read so far.
2009.74
As she reads, I think how useful a cloak that made me invisible would be right now. If I have one, I'd throw it over my head and run out the door and across the parking lot and the street, all the way through the waterfront park to the wharf, and board the first boat I saw going somewhere, anywhere else. [page 23]
I try to hold my hope down, but it keeps popping up again. [page 31] ... On the drive to the clinic, I try not to let my hopes run loose, but they rush with the water under the bridges. [page 41]
At a friend's house, everything is uncomplicated. No one drops toys in the fish tank, no one cares if the cellar door is open or closed, and no one shrieks unless there's a huge, hairy spider crawling up her arm. ... But the best part of being at a friend's house is I can be just me and put the sister part of me down. [page 89]
Chris Reeve wisely parsed the difference between optimism and hope. Unlike optimism, he said, "Hope is the product of knowledge and the projection of where the knowledge can take us." If optimism is a happy-go-lucky expectation that the odds are in my favor, that things are likely to break my way, and if hope is an informed optimism, facts converting desire into possibility, then faith is the third leg of the stool. Faith tells me that I'm not alone. [pages 201-202]
Our little, shingled Martha's Vineyard saltbox is blessed with an unobstructed view of the Gay Head Lighthouse. Every night its beacon slowly turns, and each half revolution paints the house and hillside with a warm swath of light. From dusk onward, fireflies twinkle through the grasses like Bush forty-one's metaphorical "Thousand Points of Light." The beacon completes another thrity-second sweep of the nightscape, and a wave of brilliance washes out the glow of the insects. A thousand fireflies won't generate the luminescence sufficient to read a roadmap. A lighthouse - more powerful and dependable - speaks to the guiding nature of hope. By equal turns, it illuminates and darkens, so the way forward can be chosen in the light, and trusted in the darkness.
Admittedly, I haven't spent much time in West Texas, but given the amount and variety of brush the President clears on his vacations, my guess is that he has a lot of fireflies on that ranch - and no lighthouse. [pages 99-100]
I hate to say it, but I know parents who regard their children as instruments to be played. It's all a matter of what strings to pull and how finely they're tuned. I see them, to extend the metaphor, more as jukeboxes. Put in your two bits, maybe give them a bit of a nudge to get them going, but nine times out of ten, if you're lucky, they're going to play their own tune. [page 237]
We are where we are. If we keep moving, we'll be someplace else. We'll know when we get there. [page 262]
A stunning work of fiction taken straight from today's headlines, Give a Boy a Gun is a stirring wake-up call to stop violence and teasing, and to explore the role of guns in the lives of teenagers.
Anyone looking for one simple black-and-white answer to the problem of school violence involving guns will not find it here. ... I have no one answer.
If these changes are going to occur, they will have to start with you, the young person reading this book. If this story has moved you, then it will be your job to keep these ideas alive, to examine your own life and your own school, to keep these issues in the forefront with open discussions and debate. Mine is the generation that will see true gun reform continually stalled by lobby-fattened politicians. Yours is the generation that may someday have the power to make the real changes that will save young lives.
The most impressive thing about this novel is the fairness and empathy with which Brande presents Mena's heartfelt struggle to reconcile her belief in both God and science.
In a perfect world mothers would all want their babies, and strangers would open up their homes to the unloved. In a perfect world everything would be either black or white, right or wrong, and everyone would know the difference. But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is. [page 75]
"Please ...," says the boy.
Please what? the teacher thinks. Please break the law? Please put myself and the school at risk? But, no that's not it at all. What he's really saying is: Please be a human being. With a life so full of rules and regiments, it's so easy to forget that's what they are. She knows - she sees - how often compassion takes a back seat to expediency. [page 83]
Ultimately, though, the power of the novel lies in what it doesn’t do: come down explicitly on one side or the other.
A delicious mix of murder, fantasy, humor and human longing, the tale of Nobody Owens is told in magical, haunting prose. A child marked for death by an ancient league of assassins escapes into an abandoned graveyard, where he is reared and protected by its spirit denizens.