Strider

Beverly Cleary

Book - 1991

In a series of diary entries, Leigh tells how he comes to terms with his parents' divorce, acquires joint custody of an abandoned dog, and joins the track team at school.

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Subjects
Published
New York : Morrow Junior Books [1991]
Language
English
Main Author
Beverly Cleary (-)
Other Authors
Paul O. Zelinsky (illustrator)
Item Description
Sequel to Dear Mr. Henshaw.
Physical Description
179 pages : illustrations
Audience
840L
ISBN
9780688099015
9780688099008
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Gr. 4-9. In this joyful sequel to 1984 Newbery winner Dear Mr. Henshaw, Leigh Botts is four years older, beginning high school, running track, and still writing in his diary. No longer the "mediumest" boy in the class, he has friends, including a girl he "admires" and a beloved dog, Strider, he finds abandoned on the beach. The divorce and his father's abandonment still hurt, but Leigh's adjusting to what he can't change, even as he finds the confidence to reach beyond himself ("Dad means well, but I can't count on him"). If by the end, the message seems a bit too rosy and everyone so "nice," it's not because of sorrow denied. You win some, you lose some. Leigh's exhilarated from stretching his stride to beat his own time. He ends a school composition about a track meet with the clarion words, "I rejoice." The illustrations are sometimes awkward--does the story really need so many of them? With its spacious design, the book will be read in one gulp by middle-graders. YAs will like it, too, and not just reluctant readers. Cleary's style seems so natural, it never draws attention to itself while you're in the story. But, as in Dear Mr. Henshaw, Leigh writes about writing well, and some kids will enjoy re-reading the story to see how he does what he says. In a funny parody about storytelling, he mocks this book, his teacher, and the Ancient Mariner: "I gotcha cornered, and I'm gonna tell ya about my dog. Ya gotta listen even if you don't wanna." The physical bond between boy and dog expresses Leigh's yearning ("Once he woke up and licked my hand. I know he likes the taste of salt on my skin, but I pretended he was letting me know he loved me. Maybe he was"). Leigh's metaphor is rooted in daily things: although he runs as if he has wings on his heels like the Greek god Mercury in florists' ads, Leigh wears track shoes and his feet touch the ground. ~--Hazel Rochman

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Two boys share custody of a dog in this sequel to the Newbery Award winner Dear Mr. Henshaw . Ages 8-12. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-7-- Leigh Botts, the protagonist of the Newbery winner Dear Mr. Henshaw (Morrow, 1983), is once again recording his thoughts on paper. While cleaning his room, he discovers his old diary and is inspired to start writing again. Now 14, he is still dealing with some of the same issues from earlier days--his parents' divorce, concerns about his father's sincerity and financial stability, and insecurities about his own identity and popularity. He also has a few new worries--namely Geneva, a girl, and Strider, a dog. Leigh and his friend Barry find the abandoned pooch on the beach and decide to try ``joint custody.'' It is not the perfect arrangement. Because Leigh's attachment to Strider fills the emotional voids in his life, he becomes reluctant to share him. Eventually, the two boys work through the tensions that threaten their friendship. At the same time, Leigh and his father develop a new understanding. Although the story is centered aroung Leigh's relationship with Strider, this is more than just ``a boy and his dog'' book. Cleary's talent for portraying the details of everyday life--both small and significant--is evident here. Her characters are unique individuals and ``every children'' at the same time. Strider lacks the subtle poignancy found in Dear Mr. Henshaw , and some readers may find Leigh's interest and responses more appropriate for an 11 or 12 year old than a 14 year old, but Cleary's fans will relate to his challenges and triumphs--whether or not they've read the first title.-- Heide Piehler, Shorewood Public Library, WI (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review

Leigh Botts, the central character in 'Dear Mr. Henshaw' (Morrow), is now fourteen. He and a friend find an abandoned dog Leigh names Strider, and in caring for him Leigh passes from childhood into adolescence - learning to accept, finally, his parents' divorce and experiencing a first romance. Once again, Cleary proves that she is in complete harmony with the world view of children and adolescents. From HORN BOOK 1991, (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

Leigh Botts, of Newbery-winning Dear Mr. Henshaw, is still learning to cope with his parents' divorce--a task to which he brings his earlier sensitivity and a new self-confidence. Now 14 and entering high school, Leigh and best-friend Barry find an appealing abandoned dog on the beach and name him Strider. Both boys would like to keep him; Barry's large, amiable family could easily accommodate Strider, but Barry--realizing how much Leigh wants the dog despite the probability that his landlady will object--suggests a unique joint custody. The arrangement works beautifully until Barry goes away for his annual month with his mom; when he comes back, Leigh's reluctance to share Strider cools their friendship--until the boys finally level with each other and work out a new deal that recognizes Leigh's greater need and affection for the dog. The action, as described in Leigh's diary, pivots around Strider; meanwhile, however, family relationships (especially Leigh's with his dad) are subtly growing and maturing in trademark Cleary style, the accessible, lightly humorous surface just one of the levels of an insightful story about idiosyncratic but nice characters dealing with universal issues. A sequel that could stand on its own (but won't have to); a comforting picture of a dear old friend thriving while continuing to work out his problems. Zelinsky's perceptive drawings are an excellent bonus. (Fiction. 9-14)

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Strider Chapter One From the Diary of Leigh Botts June 6 This afternoon, as Mom was leaving for work at the hospital, she said for the millionth time, "Leigh, please clean up your room. There is no excuse for such a mess. And don't forget the junk under your bed." I said, "Mom, you're nagging. I'm going to Barry's house." She plunked a kiss on my hair and said, "Room first, Barry second. Besides, where would the world be without nagging mothers? Everything would go to pieces." Maybe she's right. Things are pretty deep in my room. I hauled all the rubbish out from under my bed. In the midst of all the old socks, school papers, models that have fallen apart, paperback books (one library book--oops!), and other stuff, I found the diary I kept a couple of years ago when I was a mixed-up kid in the sixth grade. Mom had just divorced Dad and moved with me to Pacific Grove, better known as P.G., where I was a new kid in school, which wasn't easy. I sat there on the floor reading my diary, and when I finished, I continued to sit there. What had changed? Dad still drives his tractor-trailer rig, lives mostly on the road, and is late with his child support checks or forgets them. I don't often see him, but I don't get as angry about this as I did in the sixth grade. I no longer feel like crying, but I still hurt when he doesn't telephone when he said he would. Whenever I see a big rig, excitement shoots through me until I see Dad isn't the driver. I wish--oh well, forget it. Mom has finished her vocational nurse course and works at the hospital from three to eleven because that shift pays more than the daytime shift. Mornings she studies to become a registered nurse so she can earn more money. We still live in what our landlady called our "charming garden cottage" but I call a shack. Mom is looking for an apartment, but so far no luck. Twice a week I mop the floor at Catering by Katy, where Mom used to work before she got her license. Katy gives me good things to eat. I like earning my own spending money, but I feel I could use the squares of Katy's linoleum for a checkerboard in my sleep. Mom, who used to think TV was one of the greatest evils of the universe, finally had our set repaired because my grades were good and she no longer felt TV would rot my brain and leave me twiddling my shoelaces. At first I watched everything until I got bored and cut back to news and animal programs. Then I began to feel that every lion on the Serengeti must have his own personal hairdresser. That left the news, which sometimes worries me. If I see a truck accident with the tractor hanging over the edge of a bridge, or tons of tomatoes spilled on a freeway, I can hardly breathe until I see the driver isn't Dad. One part of my diary made me smile, the part about wanting to be a famous author like Boyd Henshaw someday. Maybe I do, maybe I don't, but I'm glad that when I wrote to him, he said I should keep a diary. I worry about what I'm going to do 'with my life, and so does Mom. Dad is probably too busy worrying about meeting his deadline with a trailer load of lettuce before it rots to even think of me. Or maybe he is wasting his time playing video games at some truck stop. Until the last sentence, I enjoyed writing this. Maybe I'll go back to writing in composition books, but not every day, just once in a while, like now, when I feel like writing something. The gas station next door has stopped ping-pinging, which means it's after ten o'clock. Mom gets home about eleven-thirty, and my room is still a mess. No problem. Except for books and my diary, I'll dump everything in the trash. I just remembered. I forgot about Barry. Strider . Copyright © by Beverly Cleary. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Strider by Beverly Cleary All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.