The Penderwicks A summer tale of four sisters, two rabbits, and a very interesting boy

Review by Booklist Review

Gr. 3-6. Adults who have been longing to find books for children that remind them of their own childhood favorites need look no further. Birdsall follows in the footsteps of Elizabeth Enright, Edward Eager, and Noel Streatfeild, updating the family story yet keeping all the old-fashioned charm. The motherless Penderwick sisters--Rosalind, 12; Sky, 11; Jane, 10; and Batty, 4--are spending the summer in a Berkshire cottage on the Arundel estate. Their botanist father and protective dog, Hound, are also in attendance, though Hound is far more involved with the girls than their absentminded professor dad. After a bad beginning, the girls become friends with Jeffrey, the son of the lady of the manor, Mrs. Tifton, whose main concern is the welfare of her garden. On one level, Birdsall might be criticized for one-dimensional characterizations (Mrs. Tifton, her boyfriend), and certain minor elements that don't ring true: Tifton's prizewinning garden would hardly be left in the hands of a teenager (on whom Rosalind develops a crush). But what this comforting family story does offer are four marvelously appealing sisters, true childhood behavior (disobeying, running away, a first crush), and a writing style that will draw readers close. So satisfying, the story begs for a sequel: it would be nice to see more of the Penderwicks. --Ilene Cooper Copyright 2005 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In our Best Books citation, PW said, "This timeless tale [and National Book Award winner] from a first-time author introduces the incomparable Penderwicks, on vacation in a rental cottage on a sprawling estate where lonely young Jeffrey lives. The sisters' delightfully diverse personalities propel the plot." Ages 8-12. (Mar.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

Also making an appearance are a lonely young boy and a dependable yet dopey dog. Birdsall excels in developing characters, and her motley crew grows and develops in intriguing ways in this deeply enjoyable story of family and friendship. (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.

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-6-This enjoyable tale of four sisters, a new friend, and his snooty mother is rollicking fun. The girls' father is a gentle, widowed botany professor who gives his daughters free reign but is always there to support or comfort them. Rosalind, 12, has become the mother figure. Skye, 11, is fierce and hot-tempered. Jane, 10, is a budding writer of mysteries who has the disconcerting habit of narrating aloud whatever is occurring around her. Batty, four, is an endearingly shy, loving child who always wears butterfly wings. The family dog, Hound, is her protector. The tale begins as the Penderwicks embark on a summer holiday in the Berkshire Mountains, at a cottage on the grounds of a posh mansion owned by the terribly snobbish Mrs. Tifton. Her son, Jeffrey, is a brilliant pianist, but her heart is set on him attending a military academy like her beloved father. The action involves Rosalind's unrequited love for the 18-year-old gardener, Skye's enmity and then friendship with Jeffrey, Jane's improvement in her melodramatic writing style, and Batty's encounter with an angry bull whom she rather hopefully calls "nice horsie." Problems are solved and lessons learned in this wonderful, humorous book that features characters whom readers will immediately love, as well as a superb writing style. Bring on more of the Penderwicks!-B. Allison Gray, John Jermain Library, Sag Harbor, NY (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.

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Review by Horn Book Review

(Intermediate) ""Summer afternoon -- summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language,"" Henry James wrote. Surely the motherless Penderwick sisters -- responsible Rosalind, twelve; feisty Skye, eleven; creative Jane, ten; and shy Batty, four -- would agree. Along with their loving but preoccupied botanist father and a clumsy dog named Hound, they spend their summer holiday in the Massachusetts Berkshires in a rose-covered cottage on the grounds of a mansion called Arundel Hall. A fast friendship develops between the girls and Jeffrey, the only child of Arundel's icy owner, Mrs. Tifton. The adventures the children share over the next three weeks include much sneaking in and out of Mrs. Tifton's prize-winning gardens. Although Birdsall draws Mrs. Tifton and her snooty beau Dexter as one-dimensional, writer's muscle supports the entrancing sisters, who behave just as real children would, arguing, calling each other names, and disobeying adults. Suffused with affectionate humor, this charming, old-fashioned story feels familiar in the way the best books seem like old friends. The Penderwicks call to mind Edward Eager's quartet of siblings as well as those in Elizabeth Enright's The Saturdays; shades of Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden appear in Arundel's off-limits gardens and lonely Jeffrey Tifton. Nostalgic but never stale, this fresh, satisfying novel is like a cool breeze on a summer's day. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.

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

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Echoes of Alcott contribute to the intimate charm of this story of "summer and magic and adventure." Not since the Marches have readers met more engaging girls than the Penderwicks: Rosalind, 12, pretty and practical; Skye, 11, smart and blue-eyed; Jane, ten, aspiring author, whose alter ego, Sabrina Starr, is fearless and clever; and butterfly wing-wearing Batty, four. Dear Father is a botanist, fond of spouting witticisms in Latin; Mommy is in heaven. This year, vacation will be spent at the cream-colored cottage at Arundel, estate of snooty Mrs. Tifton, whose house is "like a museum, only without armed guards." Unless she has a change of heart, Jeffrey, her gentle, music-loving only child, is doomed to be sent to Pencey Military Academy, "Where Boys Become Men and Men Become Soldiers." Despite a few mishaps, the children become fast friends and partners in the sorts of lively plots and pastoral pastimes we don't read much about these days. Their adventures and near-disasters, innocent crushes, escaped animals, owning-up and growing up (and yes, changes of heart) are satisfying and not-too-sweet. (Fiction. 8-12) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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A Boy at the Window For a long time after that summer, the four Penderwick sisters still talked of Arundel. Fate drove us there, Jane would say. No, it was the greedy landlord who sold our vacation house on Cape Cod, someone else would say, probably Skye. Who knew which was right? But it was true that the beach house they usually rented had been sold at the last minute, and the Penderwicks were suddenly without summer plans. Mr. Penderwick called everywhere, but Cape Cod was booked solid, and his daughters were starting to think they would be spending their whole vacation at home in Cameron, Massachusetts. Not that they didn't love Cameron, but what is summer without a trip to somewhere special? Then, out of the blue, Mr. Penderwick heard through a friend of a friend about a cottage in the Berkshire Mountains. It had plenty of bedrooms and a big fenced-in pen for a dog--perfect for big, black, clumsy, lovable Hound Penderwick--and it was available to be rented for three weeks in August. Mr. Penderwick snatched it up, sight unseen. He didn't know what he was getting us into, Batty would say. Rosalind always said, It's too bad Mommy never saw Arundel--she would have loved the gardens. And Jane would say, There are much better gardens in heaven. And Mommy will never have to bump into Mrs. Tifton in heaven, Skye added to make her sisters laugh. And laugh they would, and the talk would move on to other things, until the next time someone remembered Arundel. But all that is in the future. When our story begins, Batty is still only four years old. Rosalind is twelve, Skye eleven, and Jane ten. They're in their car with Mr. Penderwick and Hound. The family is on the way to Arundel and, unfortunately, they're lost. "It's Batty's fault," said Skye. "It is not," said Batty. "Of course it is," said Skye. "We wouldn't be lost if Hound hadn't eaten the map, and Hound wouldn't have eaten the map if you hadn't hidden your sandwich in it." "Maybe it's fate that Hound ate the map. Maybe we'll discover something wonderful while we're lost," said Jane. "We'll discover that when I'm in the backseat for too long with my younger sisters, I go insane and murder them," said Skye. "Steady, troops," said Mr. Penderwick. "Rosalind, how about a game?" "Let's do I Went to the Zoo and I Saw," said Rosalind. "I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater. Jane?" "I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater and a buffalo," said Jane. Batty was between Jane and Skye, so it was her turn next. "I went to the zoo and I saw an anteater, a buffalo, and a cangaroo." "Kangaroo starts with a k, not a c," said Skye. "It does not. It starts with a c, like cat," said Batty. "Just take your turn, Skye," said Rosalind. "There's no point in playing if we don't do it right." Rosalind, who was sitting in the front seat with Mr. Penderwick, turned around and gave Skye her oldest-sister glare. It wouldn't do much, Rosalind knew. After all, Skye was only one year younger than she was. But it might quiet her long enough for Rosalind to concentrate on where they were going. They really were badly lost. This trip should have taken an hour and a half, and already they'd been on the road for three. Rosalind looked over at her father in the driver's seat. His glasses were slipping down his nose and he was humming his favorite Beethoven symphony, the one about spring. Rosalind knew this meant he was thinking about plants--he was a professor of botany--instead of about his driving. "Daddy," she said, "what do you remember about the map?" "We're supposed to go past a little town called Framley, then make a few turns and look for number eleven Stafford Street." "Didn't we see Framley a while ago? And look," she said, pointing out the window. "We've been past those cows before." "Good eyes, Rosy," he said. "But weren't we going in the other direction last time? Maybe this way will do the trick." "No, because all we saw along here were more cow fields, remember?" "Oh, yes." Mr. Penderwick stopped the car, turned it around, and went back the other way. "We need to find someone who can give us directions," said Rosalind. "We need to find a helicopter that can airlift us out of here," said Skye. "And keep your stupid wings to yourself!" She was talking to Batty, who, as always, was wearing her beloved orange-and-black butterfly wings. "They're not stupid," said Batty. "Woof," said Hound from his place among the boxes and suitcases in the very back of the car. He took Batty's side in every discussion. "Lost and weary, the brave explorers and their faithful beast argued among themselves. Only Sabrina Starr remained calm," said Jane. Sabrina Starr was the heroine of books that Jane wrote. She rescued things. In the first book, it was a cricket. Then came Sabrina Starr Rescues a Baby Sparrow, Sabrina Starr Rescues a Turtle, and, most recently, Sabrina Starr Rescues a Groundhog. Rosalind knew that Jane was looking for ideas on what Sabrina should rescue next. Skye had suggested a man-eating crocodile, who would devour the heroine and put an end to the series, but the rest of the family had shouted her down. They enjoyed Jane's books. There was a loud oomph in the backseat. Rosalind glanced around to make sure violence hadn't broken out, but it was only Batty struggling with her car seat--she was trying to twist herself backward to see Hound. Jane was jotting in her favorite blue notebook. So they were both all right. But Skye was blowing out her cheeks and imitating a fish, which meant she was even more bored than Rosalind had feared. They'd better find this cottage soon. Then Rosalind spotted the truck pulled over by the side of the road. "Stop, Daddy! Maybe we can get directions." Mr. Penderwick pulled over and Rosalind got out of the car. She now saw that the truck had TOMATOES painted in large letters on each of its doors. Next to the truck was a wooden table piled high with fat red tomatoes and, behind the table, an old man wearing worn blue jeans and a green shirt with Harry's Tomatoes embroidered across the pocket. "Tomatoes?" he asked. "Ask if they're magic tomatoes," Rosalind heard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Skye hauling Jane back in through the car window. "My younger sisters," said Rosalind apologetically to the old man. "Had six of 'em myself." Rosalind tried to imagine having six younger sisters, but she kept coming up with each of her sisters turned into twins. She shuddered and said, "Your tomatoes look delicious, but what I really need is directions. We're looking for number eleven Stafford Street." "Arundel?" "I don't know about any Arundel. We're supposed to be renting a cottage at that address." "That's Arundel, Mrs. Tifton's place. Beautiful woman. Snooty as all get-out, too." "Oh, dear." "You'll be fine. There are a couple of nice surprises over there. You're going to have to keep that blond one under control, though," he said, nodding toward the car, where Skye and Jane were now leaning out of the window together, listening. Muffled complaints could be heard from Batty, who was being squashed. "Why me?" called Skye. The man winked at Rosalind. "I can always spot the troublemakers. I was one myself. Now, tell your dad to go down this road a little ways, take the first left, then a quick right, and look for number eleven." "Thank you," said Rosalind, and turned to go. Excerpted from The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy by Jeanne Birdsall 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.

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