Family game night and other catastrophes

Mary E. Lambert, 1984-

Book - 2017

Seventh-grader Annabelle's mother is a hoarder, and their whole house is full of canned goods, broken toys, fabric, and old newspapers--but when a pile of newspapers (organized by weather reports) falls on Annabelle's younger sister Leslie and their mother is more concerned about the newspapers, it sets off a chain of events that brings their fix-it-all grandmother in and Annabelle realizes that if there is any hope for change she can not isolate herself and keep her family's problems secret.

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Review by Booklist Review

Annabelle's mother collects: linens stacked by color, egg cartons with odd-numbered expiration dates, Beanie Babies in the stair banister. No one uses the word hoarding. Instead they find ways to cope. Her dad immerses himself in Sherlock Holmes, her brother is never home, her sister Leslie collects stories of people killed by clutter. For her part, Annabelle purges her room weekly of anything nonessential. But when a pile of newspapers falls on Leslie, the coping strategies crack, and Annabelle fears her family is truly broken. Her father leaves early on a work trip to England, and her grandmother arrives to help, but Grandma Nora's approach to fixing things only transforms the home into a battle zone. The story falters in its after-school-special ending, but the strong writing, characters, and humor counterbalance this weakness and create a gripping tale of family love as Annabelle struggles to choose between escaping and staying to help unbury her family from impending disaster. Make room on your shelves for this engaging and topical novel.--Harold, Suzanne Copyright 2017 Booklist

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

Lambert's gutsy and affecting first novel tackles a topic not frequently discussed in middle grade fiction: living with a parent who's a hoarder. At 12, Annabelle copes with her mother's obsession with her "collections"-old newspapers, milk jugs, canned vegetables-that are stacked throughout the house. Annabelle largely shoulders the burden alone: her father leaves on a business trip, her teenage brother routinely escapes to friends' houses, and her younger sister's nightmares about death-by-hoarding are making her physically ill. Intensifying Annabelle's isolation is her "Five-Mile-Radius Rule," which she uses to keep friends at a distance. Her caustic, self-protecting humor will endear her to readers: after her grandmother arrives to spearhead a de-cluttering effort, Annabelle observes, "Rearranging the mess does not a cleanup make." She also adds humor to a strained family game night, narrating the doomed evening as an Elizabethan tragedy. A believably hopeful ending reinforces the story's call to face problems rather than hide or run from them, and to ask for help from others-especially family. Ages 8-12. Agent: Linda Camacho, Prospect Agency. (Feb.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

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

Gr 4-7-Annabelle's family seems to be slowly slipping out of control. In order to establish a sense of order for herself, Annabelle creates a few self-imposed rules. First, nobody from school is allowed within five miles of her house. This is pretty easy, since her family's increasingly run-down abode is miles outside of town. Second, no unnecessary items are allowed in her room, and she checks for this daily. Finally, and most important, nobody outside of Annabelle's family can know what really goes on at home. She does not want anyone to know that her mom collects things. In fact, she hoards them. Room after room has been taken over by items like newspapers (arranged by weather forecast), canned goods, items purchased from infomercials, Beanie Babies, and egg cartons. As a result, Annabelle's little sister has nightmares, her brother spends as little time at the house as possible, and her father throws himself into his work. After an incident with one of her mother's stacks of newspapers, Annabelle's parents have a fight that threatens to tear the family apart. Can Annabelle's overbearing, bossy grandmother step in and save the day, or will she do more harm than good? Will her mother ever be able to function without hoarding? This poignant tale with an authentic and memorable narrator will resonate with many young readers-whether they have personal experiences with hoarding or not. VERDICT Move this to the top of the realistic fiction purchase list in libraries serving middle graders.-Carli Sauer, Carmel Middle School, IN © Copyright 2016. 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

Annabelle can remember when her family was normal, but for years now her mother has been a hoarder. When an enormous pile of old newspapers--organized by weather predictions--comes crashing down on Annabelles sister Leslie, it sets off a series of repercussions. Annabelles father walks out; her forceful grandmother arrives to help clean out the house; and gradually, Annabelle confronts the ways in which she and other members of her family are psychologically broken. This accessible middle-grade novel taps into common themes (uncertain friendships, impatience with parents and younger sister), and it presents some thoughtful soul-searching on Annabelles part and a sense of possibility for kindness in the very peers shes been afraid to bring home. Most particularly, Lambert explores the psychology of hoarding and the toll it takes on a family--not just on Annabelle, who responds with obsessive-compulsive-type rituals for keeping her own room uncluttered, but also on Leslie, whose nightmares of being suffocated threaten her mental health. Annabelles first-person, present-tense narration is quickly paced, and Lambert gives readers a wide, varied, and appropriately overwhelming vision of a house that should be declared a National Disaster. deirdre f. baker (c) Copyright 2017. 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

"It's like trying to save the Titanic by bailing water with a teaspoon." That's how Annabelle regards her life ever since her mother's hoarding took over the house and her father left.The stuff is piled everywhere in the white family's house: old milk bottles, stacked by long-ago expiration dates; egg cartons; ceiling-high piles of newspapers sorted by weather forecasts; and broken toys in huge mounds in Annabelle's 10-year-old sister Leslie's room. Her older brother's room is stacked with exercise equipment and paint cans. Only Annabelle's room is clean, but she keeps it that way by exercising a calming, obsessive ritual of prowling the exterior walls searching for potential maternal stashes. Annabelle's managed to keep word from spreading, but finally Leslie waves the white flag by notifying their distant, controlling grandmother, who immediately intervenes by moving in and launching a running battle with Annabelle's mom. Twelve-year-old Annabelle's smart, perceptive voice is fresh and realistic, alternating between plucky determination to keep her broken family running and a vulnerable undercurrent of believable despair. Her evolving relationship with a classmate provides a tender counterpoint to her heartbreaking home situation. Well-drawn and sympathetic characters (even, eventually, Annabelle's parents) drive this immersive tale that concludes with a satisfying but plausible hint of hope. Although broken parents are common fodder these days, this debut story is a standout. (Fiction. 9-14) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

The newspapers fell on my sister at breakfast this morning.And I didn't do anything to stop it.Sometimes I have this feeling that I'm completely disconnected from my body, like I'm watching my life on TV or in a dream, and it doesn't occur to me until ten minutes or two weeks later that, hey, I could've done something. I don't have to sit in the audience and watch things fall apart.But that's exactly what I did at breakfast. I just sat there, waiting to see if today would be the day the newspapers finally fell. It was the "highs in the mid to upper 70s" pile that came crashing down. The newspapers are organized by weather report, and since it's almost June, Mom has been adding to the "highs in the mid to upper 70s" pile every day. Lately she's had to stand on her tiptoes in order to reach the top, and this morning-before she could even add to it-it was already swaying from side to side, back and forth. It looked like a Jenga tower right before someone loses, and today Leslie was the loser.I've known for weeks now that they were bound to come crashing down. It's why I haven't sat at the head of the table since spring break. The head of the table is the best seat in the house-it's closest to the fridge and, therefore, the fewest steps to the milk. Yes, I am that lazy. And, apparently, so is my sister, because as soon as I switched seats, she nabbed up my old one. I should have warned her not to sit there, told her why I'd changed seats. But, honestly, it never occurred to me.I thought about how the newspapers would probably fall on her head, and in cold, fatalistic silence, I consumed my cereal, morning after morning, waiting and watching. Excerpted from Family Game Night and Other Catastrophes by Mary E. Lambert 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.