The best man

Review by New York Times Review

IF YOU'RE UNDER the age of, say, 50 and read novels as a kid, you've probably spent some time in Richard Peck's world. When I was in elementary and middle school in the late '80s, battered Peck paperbacks littered my class libraries, often featuring teenage girls in trouble or grappling with newfound supernatural powers, as in "Ghosts I Have Been." But Peck is at heart a gentle realist, a keen observer of family dynamics who uses the soft power of understated emotion to tackle social issues (rape, teenage pregnancy, death). His latest middle-grade novel, "The Best Man," is in this vein. It's about a boy named Archer Magill and his relationships with the men in his life: his father, a classic-car buff; his straw-hat-wearing architect grandfather; his perpetually single, sharply dressed uncle Paul; and, eventually, his fifth-grade student teacher, Ed McLeod, a National Guardsman getting a master's in education. We first meet Archer as a 6-year-old ring bearer in the wedding of a family friend - "The Best Man" is bookended by two weddings - and follow him through elementary school as he navigates classroom bullies, friendships, the death of one of his beloved male role models and, finally, the marriage of two others. Simultaneously inquisitive and slightly clueless, Archer relies on the adults around him and on his self-possessed best friend, Lynette, to serve as mentors in emotional awareness. But Peck is mostly concerned with his male characters and their emotional landscapes. The men in Archer's life talk about their feelings - "How am I going to mean as much to you as my dad meant to me?" his father muses after the death of Archer's grandfather - and they each have something to teach him about how to be a man. Uncle Paul helps him handle a bully, while Mr. McLeod takes on anti-gay discrimination by coming out in front of a classroom of sixth graders. In an introductory note, Peck says he hopes "The Best Man" isn't "political." Still, there's something revolutionary about the book's approach to gayness. Archer's awareness of Paul's sexuality - and of Paul's growing bond with Mr. McLeod - unfolds at a pace that feels authentic to an 11-year-old boy trying to make sense of the world. Uncle Paul alludes to his sexuality in multiple conversations with Archer - "Everybody had a crush on Bob Showalter," Paul says about the father of Archer's classmate; "I think I had a crush on him." But Archer misses these references entirely. ("You knew I was gay, right?" his uncle asks. "Sure," Archer replies. "I guess. Not really. No.") When Archer's father takes him on a mission to persuade Paul to get serious about Mr. McLeod, Archer asks if they'll "talk it over." His father says: "No, we're guys. We'll talk about the Cubs, and cars.... But we'll make sure he sees there's a place for Ed McLeod in our family." It might all be a little too earnest, but that's O.K. In its quiet way, by normalizing a variety of flavors of gay and straight masculinity for the first generation raised in a world in which gay marriage is the law of the land, "The Best Man" is political. It will be a battered paperback in classrooms soon enough, one more reminder that no matter your gender or sexuality, love is love is love. WHITNEY JOINER is the senior features editor at Hearst Digital Media and a co-founder of The Recollectors Project, a community for people who have lost parents to AIDS.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [September 14, 2016]

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Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Two weddings bracket this amusing and ultimately moving novel narrated by 12-year-old Archer. In the first ceremony, he's a 6-year-old ring bearer suffering from an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. In the second, he's the best man, resplendent in his first elegant suit. The episodic story covers all six years in between, though it focuses on the last two: fifth grade (featuring three different teachers and a lockdown with cops at school) and sixth, which brings a death and a wedding in the family. In two satisfying scenes, school bullies are brought low by adults. The novel's distinctive characters are so believable that their lives seem to go on beyond the book. Always two steps behind his friend Lynette in comprehending what's going on around him, Archer has a stout heart, an open mind, and good intentions. For years, he tends to parrot others' opinions, but when he finally puts his own ideas together and speaks from the heart, his words and his timing couldn't be better. This intergenerational story unfolds with a refreshing lack of sentimentality, and an emphasis on fathers and other male role models. Archer's dad, his grandfather, and his gay uncles are portrayed with particular affection and respect. A witty, engaging novel from a master storyteller. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Peck is one of the most celebrated living writers of kid lit, and he's even mounting a tour for this one.--Phelan, Carolyn Copyright 2016 Booklist

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

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In this hilarious coming-of-age story, listeners follow Archer Magill from first grade in elementary through to middle school as puberty quickly approaches. The book recounts milestones in Archer's life thus far and introduces readers to the male role models in his life, particularly his father (who restores vintage cars for a living), stylish uncle, and thoughtful grandfather. Voice actor Crouch perfectly enacts the young and curious Archer and creates fun, unique voices for the other colorful characters. His emphasis and pacing capture the story's progression and humor, much of which is rooted in Archer's precociousness. His insights and observations are mature and rendered in sophisticated language, which Crouch's youthful voice helps accentuate. Ages 9-12. A Dial hardcover. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-6-The latest from Newbery Medal-winning author Peck takes on important and timely topics-marriage, sexuality, manhood, nontraditional families-and alchemizes them into an affecting story full of warmth, acceptance, and understanding. Sixth grader Archer Magill narrates what he calls "A Tale of Two Weddings." At the first, "a train wreck" of an event, Archer, age six, was the ring bearer and met his best friend; at the second, he is promoted to best man for his uncle and his new husband. Between weddings, Archer absorbs life lessons from his heroes: his architect grandfather, his car restoration specialist father, his favorite uncle Paul, and the new teacher Mr. McLeod, who is the first guy teacher in the history of the school. Archer isn't lacking in strong female role models, either. His mother, sister, and best friend Lynnette are certainly models of strength (opinion, sass, and fortitude) times three. Michael Crouch, with his could-crack-at-any-moment, fittingly adolescent-tuned voice, is ideal as Archer's aural incarnation-equal parts excitable, thoughtful, and gentle. VERDICT With panache and charm, plus a few tears and guffaws, Peck proves (again) he's the best man to create one of this year's best reads.-Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC © Copyright 2017. 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

Rise and toast The Best Man, Peck's story about Archer Magill, a boy growing from a raw dollop of kindergarten id into a functional middle-school kid, a budding citizen of the world. As a participant in the two weddings that launch and conclude the novel (the first when he is six and the latter as a sixth grader), Archer is a familiar American type: a kid's kid, of the sort readers may recognize from Beverly Cleary or Eleanor Estes. Decent, a little clueless -- neither a hero nor a bystander, Archer is aware of wanting grownups to emulate. Among the men Archer applauds is his uncle Paul. That Paul turns out to be gay is not a crisis. "You knew I was gay, right?' Uncle Paul sat up, pushed his ball cap back. Sure,' I said. I guess. Not really. No.'" Show me six other words that capture a fifth grader so adroitly. The Best Man, refreshingly, is neither polemic nor camp-on-steroids. (That Uncle Paul's love interest is a hunk -- and Archer's student teacher -- who captivates the national Twitter-verse is perhaps the only slip toward stereotype -- or are all gay men gorgeous? Just asking.) Archer's continuing admiration of his uncle after the revelation is underplayed; this isn't a problem novel. Uncle Paul's life doesn't overwhelm the parade of Archer's school dramas involving teachers, friends, enemies, and a dying grandfather, which roll along with brio and feeling. Your reviewer here breaks convention to reveal that a child of his recently admitted to having been bullied, several years ago, for having two dads. So we're not done needing books like this. Comic, easy to read, swiftly paced, and matter-of-fact, Peck's latest steps out to lead the way. gregory maguire (c) Copyright 2016. 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.

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Chapter 1 Boys aren't too interested in weddings. Girls like them. Grown-ups like them. But my first-grade year started with one wedding, and my sixth ended with another. Call my story "A Tale of Two Weddings." I was in both of them.   One of the weddings was great. In fact, it's just over. There's still some cake. And I got a fantastic new suit out of it. The pants are cuffed. The coat gives me shoulders, and I'll be sorry to outgrow it. I won't mind being taller, but I'll miss the suit. Also, a pair of gold cuff links are involved, but we'll come to them later. The other wedding, the first one, was a train wreck, so let's get that one out of the way. Besides, it happened when I was too little to know what was happening or to stand up for my rights. I didn't have any rights. I was six. Did I even know what weddings are? And this one wasn't even anybody in our family. "Archer, honey," said Mom one day. I was in her office for some reason I didn't see coming. Mom's maiden name was Archer. I'm named for her kid brother, Paul Archer. Mom was about to pull me onto her lap. But I held up both hands. They were red and black with touch-up paint. I was paint all over. I'd sat in some. Dad and I had been out in the garage detailing a vintage '56 Chevy Bel Air. Mom pulled back, but only a little. "There's going to be a wedding, and guess what? You get to be in it." "Get Holly," I said. Holly's my sister, seven years older, so she'd have been thirteen or so. "We already have Holly," Mom said. "She's going to be a junior bridesmaid. She's tickled pink." "What's left?" "Ring bearer," Mom said. "What's that?" "You carry the bride's ring down the aisle on a little satin pillow." "Whoa," I said. "You won't be alone," Mom said. "Don't worry about that. There'll be another ring bearer. She'll carry the groom's ring." She? "A darling little girl named Lynette Stanley." A girl? "Her mother and I went to college together. We were best buds in the Tri Delt House. The Stanleys have moved here for the schools, so you and Lynette will be starting first grade together, and you'll already be friends!" Mom beamed. How could I be friends with a girl? I stood there, waiting to wake up from this bad dream. "I can wear my regular clothes," I said. "Right?" "Archer, honey, you don't have regular clothes," Mom said. "And by the way, racing-stripe paint doesn't come out in the wash. I suppose your dad's in about the same condition." "Pretty much," I said. "We'll look at what you'll wear for the wedding a little later on." Mom glanced away. "A little closer to the event." I racked my six-year-old brain. There had to be a way out of this. There's always a way out when you're six, right? "Who are they, these people getting married?" Mom was looking away, far, far away. "The bride is Mrs. Ridgley's granddaughter," she said. "Who's Mrs. Ridgley?" "An old friend of your grandmother Magill." "Were they best buds in the Tri Delt House?" "No," Mom said. "They were best buds at the Salem witch trials." Chapter 2 Every hot August day brought the wedding closer. My sister, Holly, came home from camp and pounded up to her room to try on her junior bridesmaid dress. She about wore it out before the day came. But the day came. So did my ring-bearer rig, my first FeEx delivery. Mrs. Addison Magill had sent for it--Grandma. I couldn't read it, but I knew that much. "Archer," Mom said, "whatever it is, you'll have to wear it. I do my best with your grandmother Magill, but it's never good enough. Never. Be a brave boy." It was going to be a simple porch wedding, Grandma's porch. They wouldn't even need a rehearsal, which was fine with me. I didn't know what a rehearsal was. Just a gathering of friends. No fuss. But a hundred and twenty-five chairs were set up on the front lawn when the wedding day dawned. We live behind my grandparents. Two big square houses. Grandpa Magill built them. Dad stayed down in the garage as long as he could. But time ran out for him too. "A tie?" I heard him say to Mom up in their room. "I have to wear a tie ?" I crouched at the end of my bed. I couldn't sit all the way down on my ring-bearer's rig. An idea hit me--the best idea I'd ever had in my life. I'd go hide, and after a while they'd forget they'd ever had me.  I know. A few months older--a few weeks--and I'd have seen all the bugs in this plan. The first thing you learn in school is that there's no place to hide.  I vanished while the coast was clear. Not easy in those shoes. Even the soles seemed to be patent leather. I skidded past Holly's room. And Mom and Dad's, where Mom was tying Dad's tie. Then I was outdoors and across the alley to Grandpa and Grandma's. August sun glinted off me. I was all in white like the bride. I came across Grandpa Magill, in the porch swing Dad had set up for him in our backyard. He wore his seersucker suit and a straw hat, and was sound asleep. Cleo the cat was in his lap. She glanced up at me, then stared. Even to the cat I looked ridiculous. Up at the back of Grandma and Grandpa's house, uniformed people were putting glasses on trays. The wedding cake stood under a plastic sheet. I wouldn't have said no to a piece of cake, but I had some disappearing to do. Now I was moving from one snowball bush to the next, along the side of the house, and the front porch. I slid back a piece of loose latticework down low and slipped inside. Now you see me, now you don't. I'd been down here under the porch before, making a fort, messing around. It's a cool, webby place with some mud. I was inches from the wedding, but totally invisible. Footsteps thundered on the porch floor above. Murmuring came from the folding chairs in the yard. A string quartet tuned up directly over my head. Then I got a big surprise. A face appeeared in the open space I'd come through. I jumped, and cracked my head on a beam. A girl ducked inside. She had a mop of red hair with a big pink bow in it. You could just stand up in here, if you were six. She was a little bigger than I was, all the way around. Her skirt was a lot of peachy pink net. We seemed to be wearing matching shoes. "Hey, bozo, you're supposed to be on  the porch, not under it," the girl said. "What are you, five?" It was Lynette Stanley, of course. "How'd you know I was down here?" "I saw you from the living room window." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. Her dress had weird puffy sleeves. "Who could miss you in all that white? You look like a snow cone." It was dim down here, but Lynette Stanley got a good look at me. "White velvet shorts?" she said. "What were they thinking?" "Shut up," I said, hopeless. "They're really tight on you." Tighter than she knew. I coudn't sit down. "They're like toddler's shorts," Lynette said. "It's like you wear training pants underneath." I wasn't wearing anything underneath. How could I? And I was beginning to chafe. "It's like you drink out of a sippy cup. And look at your shirt. You've got more ruffles down your front than I do." She held out her skirt. "And I look like Fancy Nancy." Her dress was a lot of net, a lot of sash, those ruffles. Dorky. She'd had a FedEx delivery too. Above us the string quartet went into "You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings." "It's a bad dress," I told Lynette, "but you'll be safe down here." "Are you nuts?" she said. "We're already late. They'll be panicking. They'll be on their phones. It'll be an Amber Alert." "I'm not going." I put my hands behind me. "You go ahead." Lynette sighed and made a grab for me. She was planning to frog-march me out from under the porch or something. I jumped back. My slick shoes shot out from under me. I sat down hard, and my hands slapped mud. We heard the sound of stitches popping. "Whoops," said Lynette. Something inside me had known this wasn't going to work. A sob started up, behind the baby-blue velvet bow tie.  Excerpted from The Best Man by Richard Peck 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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