Book of the Week: Mermaid Sister

Mermaid Sister by Mary Ann Fraser

Published: 2008 by Walker Books for Young Readers

Reasons why I liked this book, and chose it as Book of the Week:

One of the main characters is a mermaid!

I love how this book shows the importance of loving your family even if they are pains in the “patootie.”

It uses words like “patootie” and quite frankly that’s enough to get a laugh from me.

The colors used in the illustrations are sea toned – green, blue, and even hints of gold.

It shows that even when you wish for something (and get it) the outcome may not be what you really wanted or expected.

I really love how the end pages of the book are lemonade colored scales.

Books about the ocean and it’s creatures (real or fantastical) are awesome!

I love how the main character Shelly asks for a sister, and when she gets a mermaid sister her parents don’t question it, and do not object to take home.

The new “sisters” eat pb&j sandwiches – peanut butter and jellyfish sandwiches that is.

I love how Coral (the mermaid sister) can dance – instead of dancing hip-hop she dances the flip-flop.

This book is a great example of “there’s no place like home.”

I love Coral’s collection of tuna cans. One would expect a mermaid to have such a collection.

I find it especially amusing that since Shelly and her family took mermaid Coral into, random sea creatures – jellyfish, starfish, seaweed – show up at their house.

The text and illustrations work well with one another, one doesn’t overshadow the other.

I think it would be great to have a mermaid  (ok, not as a sister, but you know as a friend or something.)

Advertisements

The Beekeeper’s Daughter

The Beekeeper’s Daughter by Sylvia Plath

“A garden of mouthings. Purple, scarlet-speckled, black

The great corollas dilate, peeling back their silks.

Their musk encroaches, circle after circle,

A well of scents almost too dense to breathe in.

Hieratical in your frock coat, maestro of the bees,

You move among the many-breasted hives,

My heart under your foot, sister of a stone.

Trumpet-throats open to the beaks of birds.

The Golden Rain Tree drips its powders down.

In these little boudoirs streaked with orange and red

The anthers nod their heads, potent as kings

To father dynasties. The air is rich.

Here is a queenship no mother can contest —

A fruit that’s death to taste: dark flesh, dark parings.

In burrows narrow as a finger, solitary bees

Keep house among the grasses. Kneeling down

I set my eyes to a hole-mouth and meet an eye

Round, green, disconsolate as a tear.

Father, bridegroom, in this Easter egg

Under the coronal of sugar roses

The queen bee marries the winter of your year.”