Tumble & Blue

Review by New York Times Review

MY LAI: Vietnam, 1968, and the Descent Into Darkness, by Howard Jones. (Oxford, $34.95.) This book about the famous massacre of Vietnamese villagers by American soldiers may be difficult to read - but it is essential for understanding our recent history, and should become the standard reference on the subject. DRAFT NO. 4: On the Writing Process, by John McPhee. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $25.) Eight essays, originally published in The New Yorker, offer writing advice from the master prose stylist who is perhaps the most revered narrative journalist of our time, letting readers behind the scenes of his creative process. BIRDCAGE WALK, by Helen Dunmore. (Atlantic Monthly, $26.) In her radiantly charged final novel, Dunmore (who died of cancer in June) imagines the turbulent life of an 18th-century British woman, a political activist at the time of the French Revolution, and the effect her radicalism has on her daughter's troubled marriage to an imposing real estate developer. KISS ME SOMEONE, by Karen Shepard. (Tin House, $19.95.) A sharp-edged short story collection that vividly demonstrates how a woman can be another woman's worst enemy. "They'd always walked the line between teasing and cruelty," Shepard writes of four bridesmaids, nominally friends, in one story. A MOONLESS, STARLESS SKY: Ordinary Women and Men Fighting Extremism in Africa, by Alexis Okeowo. (Hachette, $26.) A Nigerian-American journalist profiles ordinary Africans living in defiance of the continent's extremist movements, dramatically at times but more often through simple daily endurance. AFTER THE FALL, by Dan Santat. (Roaring Brook, $17.99; ages 4 to 8.) What if Humpty Dumpty (here decked out in jeans and a skinny tie) decided to pull himself together and get back up on that wall? Santat's picture book explores that premise in a delightful tribute to resiliency and facing fears, with a stellar surprise ending. THE STARS BENEATH OUR FEET, by David Barclay Moore. (Knopf, $16.99; ages 8 to 12.) In this debut novel celebrating community and the power of imagination, a 12-year-old boy in the Harlem projects, still grieving his brother's recent death, finds answers to his life's questions by competing to build cities with Lego. TUMBLE & BLUE, by Cassie Beasley. (Dial, $17.99; ages 8 to 12.) A generations-old family curse and a mystical swamp-dwelling alligator are at the center of Beasley's second fantasy novel, featuring a warmhearted exploration of fate. GOOD NIGHT, PLANET, by Liniers. (TOON Books, $12.95; ages 4 to 8.) The latest picture book from the Argentine cartoonist Liniers is a lively tale of a stuffed rabbit who, once his little girl falls asleep, promptly heads out for an adventure of his own. The full reviews of these and other recent books are on the web: nytimes.com/books

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 26, 2017]

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Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Many years ago the Montgomery family was involved in the fracturing of a great fate, which has passed through subsequent generations as either an incredible talent or curse. Unfortunately, Blue Montgomery was dealt the fate of always losing, and being left with Grandma Eve for the summer in minuscule Murky Branch, Georgia, feels like his greatest loss yet. Meanwhile, Tumble Wilson Lily's self-chosen hero name is also put out by her family's recent move to Murky Branch, but she's determined to make the best of it by helping Blue break his curse, like a true hero would. As the Montgomery clan descends upon Grandma Eve's in preparation for the blood-red moon a once-in-a-lifetime chance to change their fate Blue and Tumble forge a tight friendship and come to a deeper understanding of themselves. Beasley (Circus Mirandus, 2015) wisely reins in the colorful Montgomerys, ensuring that the story stays firmly focused on Blue's and Tumble's personal journeys. Their adventure into the nearby Okefenokee Swamp is lightly brushed with folkloric fantasy, and while there, choice emerges as a powerful theme. Reminiscent of Ingrid Law's Savvy books, Beasley's sophomore novel is a spirited yarn that shines through its rich characters, evocative writing, and enchanted premise. This will effortlessly ensnare the reader who plucks it from the shelf.--Smith, Julia Copyright 2017 Booklist

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

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

For generations, members of the Montgomery family have received supernatural "fates" that rule their lives; some are wonderful, such as a powerful affinity for animals, while others are not, such as one's husbands always dying. Blue Montgomery fits into the latter category: his fate is that he is cursed to always lose, no matter the situation. After his father leaves him at his grandmother's house in Murky Branch, Ga., for the summer, Blue is determined to break the curse, even if it means venturing into the Okefenokee Swamp to find a fabled golden alligator named Munch. Eleven-year-old Tumble Wilson, new to Murky Branch and obsessed with being a hero, is immediately drawn to Blue and his bad luck, and she makes it her mission to help him. In their quest to alter Blue's fate, he and Tumble learn that their families are inextricably linked, and that the line between a gift and a curse is easily blurred. Interludes from the wise and intimidating Munch keep the supernatural aspects of the novel at the forefront of readers' minds, while Tumble and Blue muddle through issues of abandonment, failure, grief, and loss. Blue's extended family, many of whom have also traveled to Murky Branch for a chance to change their own fates, creates a vibrant ensemble. Granny Eve is particularly noteworthy; her dedication to her family leaves a lasting mark on Blue, whose father is distracted at best and absent at worst. A tender message about sacrifice-for loved ones and the greater good-underlies this magical story of fate and family. Ages 8-12. Agent: Elena Giovinazzo, Pippin Properties. (Aug.) © 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-An immersive, supernatural middle grade adventure. Hear the whispers of long-kept family secrets in shadowed corners. Feel the humidity of a languid Georgia summer. Beasley, author of Circus Mirandus, weaves the tale of two tweens spending the summer looking for the way out of an ancestral curse. In 1817, 12-year-old Blue Montgomery's forebear Walcott (a fugitive horse thief) and Tumble Wilson's ancestor Almira (a "murderous young bride") were forced-by violence-to split the mysterious gift of changing one's fate, which they obtained from the fabled golden gator, deep in the Okefenokee Swamp at the rising of a bloodred moon. Both sought to escape the consequences of their crimes, but legend says that the golden gator's gift is meant for only one. "Those are the rules, and they can be terribly sharp when broken." Ever after, subsequent generations in both families were struck indiscriminately with either good or bad luck. A chance to fight the gator for his gift comes only once every 100 years when the moon runs red. Now, as the time draws near again two centuries later, Tumble and Blue must reverse the curse if there's to be any hope of normal lives for them both. Beasley's shimmering prose pulls readers in, line by line, like a fish dragging on a hook through swampy waters. The lush setting and lustrous portrayal of the characters will captivate even the most reluctant reader. VERDICT Middle graders will delight in the richly drawn world and history that Beasley creates. A first purchase for most collections.-Chelsea Woods, New Brunswick Free Public Library, NJ © 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

Way back when, there were strange things done in the Okefenokee Swamp. A plot was set in motion by two bad people, horse thief Walcott Montgomery and murderer Almira LaFayette. Their descendants, especially a couple of middle graders, Blue and Tumble, are doomed to play out the end of this tale of curses, courage, trickery, family feuds, and alligators. Blue, abandoned by his father, ends up at the home of his grandmother. His fate is that he seems destined to be a loser for life since hes unable to win any fight or game or contest--not even tic-tac-toe. Tumble, a girl who feels responsible for the death of her brother, is determined to live by the precepts of a self-help book called How to Hero Every Day. They join forces to solve the puzzle of the past and neutralize the curse. In a mix of tall tale, magic realism, comic midgrade mayhem, and sweetness--a mix reminiscent of Sachars Holes (rev. 9/98)--Beasley creates a distinctive, energetic world in which kindness is a muscular value and quirkiness is organic to the setting. The onomatopoeic language is a treat. Running on a dirt road: thuff thuff. Folding up a sofa bed: poppa-poppa-clang-thwooong. And who could resist a book in which the word Okefenokee makes regular appearances? sarah ellis (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.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Two friends, both seemingly cursed, join forces to alter their destinies. Blue Montgomery, a 12-year-old white boy, has a lifelong history of losing at everything he tries. It runs in the family: half the Montgomerys suffer some sort of curse. When Blue's father unexpectedly abandons him in Murky Branch, Georgia, to stay with Granny Eve, Blue's devastated. Then Tumble Wilson, also 12 and white but a girl, moves to town. Harboring a secret and obsessed with her hero, Maximal Star, and his book, How to Hero Every Day, Tumble rescues people with disastrous results. When Tumble learns about Blue's losing curse, she tries to prove he can be a winner even as he staunchly defends her hero status. As the 100-year red moon appears and every cursed Montgomery hopes to be the one who, according to family legend, will "travel into the swamp and claim a great new fate" from an alligator named Munch, Blue and Tumble bravely head into the swamp to change everything. Oozing magical realism, the plot alternates between pessimistic Blue and optimistic Tumble with occasional dark humor from Munch. With their assorted curses, Blue's highly eccentric family members add local color and diversion. Black-and-white spot art reinforces the swamp setting. An original, highly engaging story about the power of friendship, family curses and blessingsand what it means to be a hero. (Magical realism. 8-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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From time to time, I bother to notice them.   Tourists. They come reeking of their bug repellents and their sunscreens, and the clicker-snap of their cameras nibbles away at the song of the swamp until I wonder if they can hear it at all.   In my memory, the humans who traveled the Okefenokee were a different sort. These new ones are less afraid. More curious. And, on the whole, they are quite a bit plumper.   It would be a lie to say I have not felt the stirrings of temptation. Especially in the deep summer, when the sun glazes them with sweat so that they glisten, juicy and bright as silver fish.   Scrumptious, but I resist. My business with mankind is not, strictly speaking, that of the predator. I do have to remind myself of that when they come carrying maps. How they love those little guides with their safe paths through the swamp all dotted out and color-coded. Acres of prairie and blackwater and cypress and pine captured as lines on bits of paper. Made small as gnats.   Such arrogant morsels, you humans. That's something that hasn't changed.   Which brings me to the beginning, to a couple of humans long dead but still causing trouble for their descendants. Almira LaFayette, Walcott Montgomery--names from a story that is only now approaching its end.   It's been two hundred years, and I still remember the taste of them on the night air. Thick, greedy, sweet with desperation. When they met on the edge of the swamp, the red sickle moon was cutting a hole in the black of the sky. My moon.   And in its bloody light those two bad people were looking for an easy way out of the messes they'd made. Montgomery was a horse thief. LaFayette was a murderous young bride. He had robbed a militiaman, and she had shot her husband in the gut with a revolver three days after the wedding.   Why?   Perhaps they had their reasons. I didn't care to ask. What matters is that they ran from justice and toward me, and they reached my island at the same time.   Precisely the same time. An irksome situation for me and a tricky one for them.   I offer only one change of fate. Only one chance at a new future. Those are the rules, and they can be terribly sharp when broken.   Well. At least they didn't use maps to find me. Even Montgomery and LaFayette knew that much.   Creatures like me don't fit in between a cartographer's lines.   Creatures like me . . .   We can only be found in the places where maps dare not go.     Chapter One Blue   Blue Montgomery almost missed the sign. Kudzu was vining up its wooden posts, and its paint had begun to peel. It looked more like part of the wilderness around it than something made by human hands.   But his dad seemed to know where the turn was even in the dark. He steered the truck off the asphalt and onto dirt, and in the shine of the headlights, Blue had just enough time to read, Welcome to Murky Branch, GA. and, population: 339.   "'Bout two miles to your granny's house from here!" Alan Montgomery raised his voice over the rumble of the washboard road. "I used to run from our front door all the way out to the sign. Back when I was your age. I could make it in under twelve minutes. Not bad at all."   He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and gunned the truck's engine.   Blue watched the woods speed by. His dad had been like this ever since they'd left the hotel in Atlanta. Talky. Casual. As if he didn't know that every mile marker they passed stung Blue like a wasp.   There were no more mile markers out here, though. No cell phone reception either. Most of the world had no idea that Murky Branch existed.   The road curved, and through a break in the pines, Blue saw the house. Three stories of ghostly white paint and wraparound porches were illuminated by a moon that was close to full.   "Your granny's going to be so glad to see you," said his dad. "She's been nagging me to bring you around for forever."   He whipped the truck onto the gravel driveway just as the glowing numbers on the dashboard clock changed to read midnight. Rocks flew up to ping against the doors. Blue winced, imagining the scratches and dings in the new paint, but he didn't say anything.   His dad had taken a break from racing last year, but now that he was planning to get back on the track, he only had one speed. Fast.   The truck passed an old chicken coop that was cooping a mower instead of chickens, then a shed with a roll of rusting barbed wire propped against one wall. Blue caught a glimpse of the huge garden beside the house. It was filled with tomato cages, silver pinwheels, and chin-high corn.   His dad dodged a sprinkler, bounced the truck over a coiled hose, and stopped inches from the trunk of a giant pecan tree. "Well," he said, letting go of the wheel, "the place hasn't changed much. You need help getting the--?" "I've got it," Blue muttered, opening his own door.   Blue's right arm had been in a cast for weeks. He'd tried to stand up to a bully at school and, in hindsight, that hadn't been the best idea. Fighting usually wasn't when you were literally destined to lose.   But the arm would be fine. Sometimes, when the itching let up, Blue forgot that he was wearing the cast at all.   He reached into the truck's backseat, but his dad was already there, stretching to grab the overstuffed duffel bag. "Let me take that for you, Skeeter."   He set off toward the house, and Blue followed, dragging his feet.   The sounds were strange. In Atlanta, even at night, sirens and horns had screamed past the hotel where they'd been living, but here, the darkness was loud with chirring insects and frog song. Blue felt like his ears had been tuned to the wrong channel.   He reached the edge of the porch's wide cement steps and looked up. He had a vague memory of the Montgomery house from when he was a little kid. But it was eerie now and unfamiliar.   Carved over the front door's lintel was a scene that had been painted over so many times the finer details were obscured. Two figures, a man and a woman, were shaking hands under a crescent moon.   The columns that supported the porches were carved as well, some of them into cranes with raised beaks and others into alligators standing on the tips of their tails. The gator nearest Blue had had one of its eyes drilled out. It looked like someone had gouged the creature's soul right out of the socket.   Blue climbed the steps and took in the rest of the porch. A pair of worn-out athletic shoes, dirty with grass clippings, had been left beside the mat. The door had a scuffed bottom and etched windows on either side. He couldn't see through the filmy curtains, but he figured everyone in the house must be asleep.   Thunk.   Blue turned. His dad had dropped the duffel bag onto the porch boards. He was rocking back and forth on his heels like he always did after a long drive.   When he caught Blue's stare, he stopped. "What?"   "Nothing."   Blue bent to pick up the bag with his good hand. He tried to lift it onto his shoulder in one smooth motion, though its weight made his arm burn. He thought he'd managed pretty well, but even in the dark, he could see the way the corners of his dad's eyes creased.   "It's not that heavy," Blue said. "I bet I'm as tough as any of the other cursed Montgomerys."   His dad was looking everywhere but at him. "We've talked about this," he said. "I'm not expecting you to get involved when . . . if it happens the way they say it will. You're only here to visit your granny while I work some things out. The timing's a coincidence is all."   Blue wished he would stop lying.   The red moon only appeared once every hundred years. According to family legends, on that night one person could travel into the swamp and claim a great new fate. And when you were cursed--as Blue and half of the other Montgomerys were--a new fate was worth the risk. It couldn't be an accident that his dad had decided to leave him here this summer, when the moon was due to rise again.   "Well," his dad said, scuffing his feet against the mat, "go on in. Your granny hasn't locked a door in seventy years."   "Aren't you going to come in with me? To say hello to everyone?"   His dad just stood there, tall and silent. He was sandy-haired, like Blue, but lately it seemed that was the only thing they had in common. Alan was one of the lucky Montgomerys. One of the gifted ones. He had a talent for winning, and as a racer, he'd been unbeatable.   Blue, on the other hand, couldn't even win a game of tic-tac-toe.   "Nah," his dad said at last. "I've got to be gettin' on."   Blue wondered if they were going to hug each other good-bye. He kind of wanted to, even though none of this was fair. He took a step forward.   His dad turned away. "Got to be gettin' on," he said again. He stomped down the stairs and paused at the bottom to look back over his shoulder. "Tell your granny I said hello. And your cousins."   "Yessir."   "Don't pay too much attention to anything your granny might say about me. And whatever you do, don't tell her I'm taking up racing again. She's got this way of looking at things . . . well, it's soft, that's what, and lord knows you don't need more of that."   Blue stiffened.   His dad was scraping one of his shoes against the patchy grass. "Bye."   Blue didn't reply.   Alan strode back to the pickup. Blue had picked the color. Golden brown. He could see the flecks of glitter in the paint even in the dark.   Blue cleared his throat. "I'll see you soon, right?" he called. "You'll be back by the end of the summer?"   The truck door opened with a clonk , and his dad pulled himself up into the high leather seat. "Just take care of yourself."   "Yes, sir."   But they were supposed to take care of each other.   The door slammed. Blue lifted his cast in a wave, but he was too late. The truck had already taken off across the cluttered yard. Its headlights illuminated the green plastic mailbox at the end of the driveway, and then it was gone. Blue was alone on the porch of a house he only half remembered, on a night full of sounds that were all wrong.   He stared up at the carving over the door. Once upon a long time ago, one of Blue's ancestors had won the great fate for himself under the red sickle moon. Walcott Montgomery had gone into the Okefenokee Swamp a poor man on the run from his enemies, and he had come out of it different. Luckier.   Wealth, health, long life--Walcott had had it all. And he'd changed the fortunes of every Montgomery who came after him.   If you believed the stories, it wasn't entirely Walcott's fault that half of the family had ended up cursed. The woman in the carving--Almira LaFayette--had been there, too. She'd made it to the hidden island at the heart of the swamp at the same time as Walcott. They'd fought.   Things had gone wrong.   But it would be someone else's turn this time. And if Blue could be that someone . . .   How , though? Other Montgomerys would be descending on Murky Branch. He assumed it would mostly be the cursed relatives. The famous actors, millionaires, and geniuses didn't need to show up, did they?   But even though the Mongomerys who came might have their own terrible fates to contend with, none of them were born to lose. Spelling bees, video games, hide-and-seek--it didn't matter how simple the competition. Blue couldn't win.   His arm itched and ached inside its cast, and as he scratched at the plaster, he realized how tired he was of being himself.   He looked around the empty porch, and the dirty athletic shoes beside the door pulled at his eyes. None of his own shoes were great for running. He'd only ever been a spectator, and running shoes were for racers. Weren't they?   Weren't they for people like his dad, who was probably halfway back to the highway by now, driving like he was about to cross yet another finish line?   Driving away from Blue.   Thunk.   Blue let the duffel bag fall hard. He kicked off his flip-flops. He stomped over to the shoes.   Racing shoes, he thought. Not-for-Blue shoes. And when he stuffed his bare feet inside of the shoes, they fit. Like they had been waiting for him.   Like they were ready to try something new. Excerpted from Tumble and Blue by Cassie Beasley 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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