The view from Saturday

E. L. Konigsburg

Book - 1996

Four students, with their own individual stories, develop a special bond and attract the attention of their teacher, a paraplegic, who choses them to represent their sixth-grade class in the Academic Bowl competition.

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Review by Booklist Review

Gr. 5^-7. Four sixth-graders are chosen by their teacher, Mrs. Olinski, to be the class representatives for the Academic Bowl team. When the team goes on to perform amazing feats of erudition, including winning the state championship, people keep asking Mrs. Olinski how she chose the participants. Although the questioners never get a real answer, the story, told from different perspectives, lets readers in on the secret. Konigsburg's latest shows flashes of her great talent and her grasp of childhood, but the book is weighted down by a Byzantine structure that houses too many characters and alternating narratives that will confuse readers. The story begins at the wedding of two senior citizens in which young Noah is the best man. Two of the other team members, Ethan and Nadia, are grandchildren of the bride and groom, and the fourth member, new boy Julian Singh, cements the group when he invites the others for tea (yes, tea). Mrs. Olinski, who is wheelchair bound, only thinks she is choosing the quartet, when it is just as true they are choosing her. Overriding themes of civility and inclusiveness add interesting elements, but this is more ambitious than it is successful. --Ilene Cooper

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

This 1996 Newbery Medal winner charts the ties that bind four members of an extraordinarily successful 6th-grade quiz bowl team. In a starred review, PW called it "glowing with humor and dusted with magic." Ages 8-12. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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

Gr 4-6‘E.L. Konigsburg's Newbery Award winner (Atheneum, 1996) makes a smooth transition into this medium. Mrs. Olinski and her four bright students make a dynamic team as read by this cast of competent actors. In this story of four sixth graders' victory in an Academic Bowl, Noah, Nadia, Ethan and Julian each tell their story. The foursome and the supporting characters come to life while Mrs. Olinski blossoms. Careful prose is well adapted into a funny, realistic, caring portrait through clear and varied voices. No bells and whistles are needed to bring this winner to life, just a skilled reading. Put this on the shelf and watch it fly.‘Angela J. Reynolds, West Slope Community Library, Portland, OR (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

(Preschool) In a refrain that begins every sentence, the young female narrator asks her adoptive parents to "tell me again" the story of her birth and introduction into the family she is now a part of. This entertaining, idiosyncratic ramble begins with a phone call in the middle of the night that brings her parents to the hospital where they pick her up. Details that young children will appreciate are included: she loved her first bottle and hated her first diaper change; on the long plane ride home Mommy and Daddy carried her like a china doll and glared at anyone who sneezed; and on that first night at home Daddy told her about baseball and Mommy sang the lullaby her own mother sang to her. (The illustration shows baby looking on dubiously.) The text covers the subject of birth parentage by having the child explain that "another woman who was too young to take care of me was growing me and she would be my birth mother, and you would adopt me and be my parents." The humorous, cartoon-style pictures by Laura Cornell, whom readers may best remember as the illustrator of Annie Bananie (Harper), are a perfect visual counterpart to the text - displaying a family tree that includes both sets of parents, and presenting a life-size "diagram" of a newborn infant that labels such items as long skinny fingers, wrinkles, a taped-over future belly button, and "perfect pink toes." n.v. Sarah Fox-Davies Little Caribou; illus. by the author (Younger) "In the far north of North America, at the edge of the frozen Arctic Ocean, is a land without trees called the high tundra." This simple picture-book natural history is as much about place as it is about the life of the caribou. Energy and beauty mark the evocative watercolors, spreading spare, seasonal vistas across cream pages. The account begins as a newborn caribou first stands on shaky legs in the melting spring snow. Little Caribou and her mother are part of an enormous migrating herd that feeds on fields of grasses and flowers in the open, high tundra during the short weeks of summer, and forages in lower level snowy forests during the longer winter season. Two enemies--humans and wolves--threaten the animals as they swim rushing rivers and range through mountainous terrain. The economical narrative focuses on the rigors of life in this habitat and emphasizes the nearly perpetual scarcity of food. The book contains little explicit information about caribou physiology, emphasizing instead the life cycle through a year of changing seasons. Close-up views of the animals are softly realistic, while wider views of the herd are reminiscent of cave drawings. The soft blues and browns with a bit of summer green effectively convey the northern landscape; one lovely spread reminds us that fall occurs here, too, with frost turning the tundra to red and gold. At once pretty and spartan, the year-long journey of the herd ends on a satisfying note. "In her first year she has walked more than two thousand miles. Born to travel, Little Caribou will spend her whole life on the move. Her home is the herd." m.a.b. G. Brian Karas Home on the Bayou; illus. by the author (Preschool, Younger) Can an angry-to-be-uprooted cowboy ever find home and happiness living on the bayou? It sure doesn't look like it at first: young Ned has to use a garden hose for a lasso; Granpa, with whom Mom and Ned have come East to live, wears rubber boots ("no decent cowboy would ever wear rubber boots"); Ned yells at his mom, and now they aren't speaking; and, worst of all, he quickly becomes the favorite target of the school bully, Big Head Ed. It's only when he stops sulking and begins to act like a real cowboy ("it's time to do what you gotta do") that things improve: Ned dispatches the bully, apologizes to his mom, and adapts his cowboy ways to his new locale. He may not be able to lasso the moon, as he had boasted to his new classmates, but he sure can lasso its reflection in the bayou as a present for his mom. The humor is very dry (the swampy setting notwithstanding), and Karas exploits all its potential in both text and pictures--scribbly, narrative-driven acrylic, gouache, and pencil vignettes (sometimes seemingly blotted with swamp water)--but it's the reality of the emotions that gives the book staying power. With his big round head, nerdy high waist, and out-of-place cowboy boots, Ned is as vulnerable as he is tough. m.v.p. Itzhak Schweiger-Dmi'el Hanna's Sabbath Dress; illus. by Ora Eitan (Preschool) Translated by Razi Dmi'el, Ora Eitan, and Philomen Sturges. Delighted with the beautiful white dress Mother has made for her to wear on the Sabbath, Hanna goes outside to show it off to her dog Zuzi and Edna the cow, warning them not to get too close or they'll get her dress dirty. As she walks on, Hanna meets an old man carrying a heavy sack of charcoal on his back and hurrying to get home before the Sabbath begins. Seeing how heavy his burden is, Hanna offers to help by walking behind him and holding the heavy sack up a little. When she is done, Hanna starts for home happily, until she looks down and realizes that she has charcoal stains all over her white dress. Beginning to cry inconsolably, she hears a whisper from the moon asking why she is crying and whether she regrets helping the old man. Hanna answers that she's not at all sorry but she is still heartbroken about spoiling the dress her mother made for her. Whispering, "All will be well," the moon follows Hanna home, flooding her with moonbeams until her dress glows like silver and every stain is gone. Originally published in Hebrew in 1937, the simple story is a perfect example of the moral tale in which a child's act of kindness is rewarded in a mysterious and magical way. Hanna's joy in her new white dress is made palpable by Eitan in four small poses in which Hanna turns this way and that to admire herself. In many scenes, Hanna is little more than a white silhouette against a simple but vividly colored background, yet the stylized illustrations create an endearing portrait of the little girl and her adventures. h.b.z. Arthur Yorinks Frank & Joey Eat Lunch; illus. with photographs by Ky Chung and with "sets and costumes" by Maurice Sendak Arthur Yorinks Frank & Joey Go to Work; illus. with photographs by Ky Chung and with "sets and costumes" by Maurice Sendak (Preschool) In this pair of board books based on Yorinks and Sendak's stage production So, Sue Me, Frank and Joey are construction workers who get into some simple-and funny-trouble. When the Mutt and Jeff-like pair Eat Lunch, Joey accidentally drops Frank's super-sized sandwich ("'Oops!' says Joey") over the side of the building (and conference regulars will recognize that the man the lunch lands on is none other than HarperCollins legend Bill Morris). In Go to Work, Joey steps in some fresh cement, losing his shoes and his pants ("'Uh-oh!' says Joey") when Frank pulls him out. These are one-joke books, but of the broad and disastrous bent that many toddlers enjoy. Photos of the actors (big gestures, exaggerated expressions) are placed against Sendak's rooftop backdrop, painted with snoopy folk who watch the pratfall action. r.s. Fiction Gillian Cross Pictures in the Dark (Older) Charlie, an avid and gifted photographer, inadvertently takes a picture of a mysterious animal one night while attempting to photograph the reflections on the local river. Intrigued, Charlie begins to study the river closely, hoping for another look at the creature, and is drawn to a strange family who live on the riverbank. Jennifer Luttrell and her younger brother Peter are withdrawn and laconic; Peter is tormented by schoolmates (especially Charlie's younger cousin Zoe), who are convinced he has evil powers. The children's father is a dangerous, controlling man who is obsessed with destroying the animal, which he suspects is a mink, that keeps intruding into his manicured yard. Gradually Charlie and the reader deduce that the animal is an otter and that it and Peter are inextricably-supernaturally?-linked. Cross weaves a complex and riveting story that explores themes of escape, perception, and survival. Each of the important child characters is well-drawn and complex, but a few of the adults, most noticeably Charlie's parents, are less completely developed. If not as tightly plotted as some of Cross's previous psychological thrillers, the book is still an agreeably dark, sophisticated novel with elements of mystery and fantasy that compel the reader to turn the pages. m.v.k. Paula Danziger Forever Amber Brown (Younger, Intermediate) Now in her fifth book, Amber Brown is just getting used to the many changes in her life since her parents divorced, her best friend Justin moved away, and her mother started dating Max. Her mother then throws a wrench into everything by announcing that Max has proposed marriage. She and Amber take a weekend trip to visit Justin's family in Alabama. There Amber's mom decides, with her best friend's help, to get engaged to Max, and Amber continues to learn that nothing stays the same. Amber's many fans will enjoy her upfront narration and her frank assessments of herself and those around her. Amber's verbal puns are sometimes a bit too clever and self-conscious, but the breezy writing style suits the quick story. m.v.k. Cynthia DeFelice The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker (Intermediate) Orphaned Lucas Whitaker has lost all his family to consumption, the scourge of the mid-nineteenth century. His grief leads him away from the family's marginal hill farm, and he stumbles into an apprenticeship with Doc Beecher, a rare college-trained physician. The pace of this fine piece of historical fiction is brisk in spite of a wealth of detail that not only establishes the setting but exposes beliefs and attitudes of the day regarding health, hygiene, and witchcraft-Lucas, for example, believes in the common practice of digging up coffins to lay to rest the "undead" who may prey on remaining family members. Readers will be amazed to realize the extraordinary advances in medical knowledge that have occurred in the last hundred years. e.s.w. Terry Farish Talking in Animal (Intermediate) Eleven-year-old Siobhan can recite word for word Senator George Graham Vest's Eulogy on the Dog extolling "the one absolutely unselfish friend a man may have in this selfish world." Unable to imagine life without her beloved dog, Tree, Siobhan denies the seriousness of his failing health. She also finds it unimaginable that her good friend Maddy, a wildlife rehabilitator, is getting married. She has always had Maddy to herself, and every Saturday helps her feed baby birds and clean cages. When Maddy (who talks to Jesus "as if he were sitting in the Kmart in the lawn furniture section") and Siobhan's lawyer mother clash during a demonstration about condoms in the schools, Siobhan stops visiting Maddy and determines to hate, instead of befriend, Maddy's stepdaughter-to-be Lester Grace. Lester's friendly persistence, Maddy's patience, and Siobhan's family members' unique ways of caring eventually prove to her that dogs are not the only ones who "take you for the things you are, not for all the things you aren't." Bolstered by love and friendship, Siobhan finally finds the strength to take Tree to the vet to be put down. The novel never swerves from Siobhan's point of view, and events in the adult world around her remain in the background: we barely meet Maddy's fiancé and know little of their relationship, and the condom controversy takes a backseat to Siobhan and Lester's curiosity about what condoms look like. The relationships among Siobhan's family members are realistically drawn and serve to strengthen the novel's observations of how people communicate and connect. In a book with wider appeal than most dog stories, Farish writes with humor and precision about Siobhan's growing awareness of the many forms friendship can take. jennifer brabander Judith Gorog In a Creepy, Creepy Place and Other Scary Stories; illus. by Kimberly Bulcken Root (Younger) It is not easy to find well-written scary stories for the Goosebumps crowd, but Gorog's collection is just such a book. The five short tales are quite varied. "Take Out the Trash," the first story, is a truly scary tale of a child who is frightened of collecting the trash because it requires that she go alone to the third floor. Even Sophia's enormous dog is afraid to confront the monsters, but they manage together each week. Other stories are less frightening than they are quirky. In one a boy tries to listen to the angel on his right shoulder and ignore the devil on the other; in another, a boy gets a pet tarantula because the spider convinces Gar's mother that he is Gar's guardian angel. The collection's title is a bit misleading-there is no story called "In a Creepy, Creepy Place"-but the book has the right combination of weird, funny, and scary elements to appeal to many young r (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

Admirable acts, challenging ideas, and grace notes positively festoon this superb tale of four sixth graders and a paraplegic teacher forming a junior high Academic Bowl team that sweeps away the competition. The plot is composed of interwoven puzzles. What prompts Mrs. Olinski to choose Noah, Nadia, Ethan, and Julian for the team over the usual overachievers and honor students in her class? What do they know about her, themselves, and each other that puts them so precisely on the same wavelength and gives them such complementary knowledge and experience? Each has a tale to tell, in the course of which all four witness acts of kindness and respect that teach them to find those feelings in themselves and others. In wry prose filled with vivid imagery, information, and often oblique clues, Konigsburg takes her team through bonding, drills, and a series of contests as suspenseful as any in sports fiction; the children and Mrs. Olinski's public triumph mirror inner epiphanies of rare depth and richness. The large cast, looping plot line, and embedded stories with different narrators require careful sorting, but the effort is eminently worthwhile, and Konigsburg kindly provides answers at the end. (Fiction. 11-13)

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Mrs. Eva Marie Olinski always gave good answers. Whenever she was asked how she had selected her team for the Academic Bowl, she chose one of several good answers. Most often she said that the four members of her team had skills that balanced one another. That was reasonable. Sometimes she said that she knew her team would practice. That was accurate. To the district superintendent of schools, she gave a bad answer, but she did that only once, only to him, and if that answer was not good, her reason for giving it was. The fact was that Mrs. Olinski did not know how she had chosen her team, and the further fact was that she didn't know that she didn't know until she did know. Of course, that is true of most things you do not know up to and including the very last second before you do. And for Mrs. Olinski that was not until Bowl Day was over and so was the work of her four sixth graders. They called themselves The Souls. They told Mrs. Olinski that they were The Souls long before they were a team, but she told them that they were a team as soon as they became The Souls. Then after a while, teacher and team agreed that they were arguing chicken-or-egg. Whichever way it began -- chicken-or-egg, team-or-The Souls -- it definitely ended with an egg. Definitely, an egg. People still remark about how extraordinary it was to have four sixth graders make it to the finals. There had been a few seventh graders scattered among the other teams, but all the rest of the middle school regional champs were eighth graders. Epiphany had never before won even the local championship, and there they were, up on stage, ready to compete for the state trophy. All four members of Maxwell, the other team in the final round, were in the eighth grade. Both of the Maxwell boys' voices had deepened, and the girls displayed lacy bra straps inside their T-shirt necklines. The fact that the necklines were outsized and that the two pairs of straps matched -- they were apricot-colored -- made Mrs. Olinski believe that they were not making a fashion statement as much as they were saying something. To her four sixth graders puberty was something they could spell and define but had yet to experience. Unlike football bowls, there had been no season tallies for the academic teams. There had been no best-of-five. Each contest had been an elimination round. There were winners, and there were losers. From the start, the rule was Lose one game, and you are out. So it was on Bowl Day. At the start of the day, there had been eight regional champs. Now there were two -- Epiphany and Maxwell. It was afternoon by the time they got to the last round, and Mrs. Olinski sat shivering in a windowless room in a building big enough and official enough to have its own zip code. This was Albany, the capital of the state of New York. This was the last Saturday in May, and some robot -- human or electronic -- had checked the calendar instead of the weather report and had turned on the air-conditioning. Like everyone else in the audience, Mrs. Olinski wore a short-sleeved T-shirt with her team's logo across the front. Maxwell's were navy; Epiphany's were red and were as loud as things were permitted to get in that large, cold room. The audience had been asked not to whistle, cheer, stomp, hold up signs, wave banners, or even applaud. They were reminded that this Bowl was for brains, not brawn, and decorum -- something between chapel and the order of the day. Epiphany sat on one side of a long table; Maxwell, the other. At a lectern between them stood the commissioner of education of the state of New York. He smiled benevolently over the audience as he reached inside his inner breast pocket and withdrew a pair of reading glasses. With a flick of his wrist he opened them and put them on. Mrs. Olinski hugged her upper arms and wondered if maybe it was nerves and not the quartering wind blowing from the ceiling vents that was causing her shivers. She watched with baited (and visible) breath as the commissioner placed his hand into a large clear glass bowl. His college class ring knocked bottom. (Had the room been two degrees colder, the glass would have shattered.) He withdrew a piece of paper, unfolded it, and read, "What is the meaning of the word calligraphy and from what language does it derive?" A buzzer sounded. Mrs. Olinski knew whose it was. She was sure of it. She leaned back and relaxed. She was not nervous. Excited, yes. Nervous, no. The television lights glanced off Noah Gershom's glasses. He had been the first chosen. Excerpted from The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg 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.