How I became a spy A mystery of WWII London

Review by Booklist Review

In London, 1944, the world is at war and 13-year-old Bertie Bradshaw is a civil-defense volunteer. One dark night, pedaling furiously to his command post, he runs into a young girl with his bicycle and the two take a spill. When she storms away, he discovers a notebook that she has dropped. Reading it, he learns that the notebook belongs to a secret agent for the SOE, the Special Operations Executive. Subsequently encountering the girl again, Bertie learns she is an American named Eleanor and the notebook belongs to her erstwhile tutor, Violette. Noting the second half of the notebook's entries are a cipher, the two along with Bertie's best friend, David determine to crack it. The success of the planned invasion of Europe known as D-Day hangs in the balance. Hopkinson has written a cleverly plotted, page-turning mystery that vividly evokes wartime Britain. Its special attention to ciphers is fascinating stuff and includes four samples for readers to crack. Fans of puzzles, mysteries, and historical fiction will be delighted by Hopkinson's latest.--Michael Cart Copyright 2018 Booklist

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

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-6-This middle grade mystery novel starts with a bang and sends readers on a breakneck journey through World War II London. Bertie Bradshaw is a civil defense volunteer, so he is accustomed to the bombings and fires that have become commonplace in the city. His faithful companion is Little Roo, a small black spaniel that was given to Bertie when her original owner, a librarian, evacuated London for somewhere safer. Bertie's job is to bring others to safety, helping them find the closest bomb shelters and alerting the authorities about fires or other dangers. Bertie's brother, Will, was badly injured, so Will and his mother are living in Surrey until he recovers. One night out on patrol, Bertie runs into an American girl with his bike and ends up with a journal from a young woman, Violette, who has become a spy. It turns out the American girl knows her and wants the journal back. Bertie, however, starts reading the journal and finds it fascinating. The journal describes Violette's training as a spy and includes some codes, which readers have to try to decrypt. This book has some excellent historical information about World War II that focuses on the experiences of Londoners, as well as some commentary on post-traumatic stress. The mystery and code aspect will draw in readers. VERDICT A strong choice for middle grade collections, especially those in need of wartime historical fiction.-Debbie Tanner, S D Spady Montessori Elementary, FL © Copyright 2019. 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

Hopkinson sets her latest historical adventure (The Great Trouble, rev. 11/13; A Bandits Tale) in 1944 London as the top-secret plans for WWIIs Operation Overlord, the military invasion of Normandy, are being finalizedand with the Nazis grasping for information to foil the invasion. Enter thirteen-year-old Bertie Bradshaw, a volunteer in the civil defense forces, who as the novel opens accidentally knocks an American girl down with his bike, picks up a notebook full of coded writing, and finds an unconscious woman in the street whom he reports to authorities but who is mysteriously gone when help arrives. And off we gowith Bertie and his new friend (the American girl) smack in the middle of espionage and intrigue, racing against the clock to decode the entries in the notebook in time to unmask a Nazi double agent. Red herrings, a poignant Bradshaw family backstory, ciphers to decode, a subplot regarding a young Jewish refugee friend of Berties, cameos by real-life historical figures (General Eisenhower and his dog; cipher expert Leo Marks)theres certainly no shortage of entry points for young readers, and never a dull moment. Back matter includes background about the D-Day operation and Allied resistance activities, a roster of terms, events, and historical figures, and solutions to the embedded ciphers. martha v. parravano January/February 2019 p 92(c) Copyright 2018. 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

A World War II caper features three 13-year-olds learning ciphers amid the bombs.Bertie, a white boy in 1944 London, is excited to be a new civil defense volunteer. With the help of his rescue dog, Little Roo, he carries messages for London's wardens. In the middle of an air raid, Bertie findsand losesa young woman, who vanishes, leaving only a ciphered notebook. Bertie enlists two friends his own age to decipher the notebook: his Jewish best friend and a white American girl who's also seeking the missing young woman. The messages introduce them to a frightening story of traitors and double crosses; it's a good thing their code-breaking skills are up to the task! With many allusions to Sherlock Holmes and in chapters headed with excerpts from the Special Operations Executive's wartime spy training, the three children put their minds to cracking the ciphers and rescuing the missing woman. Little Roo helps as well, sniffing out people who need rescuing. Though the characters' voices and actions sometimes stretch the bounds of credulity, the puzzle solving is deftly handled. Clear instructions for deciphering messages, complete with an illustrated decoder ring, teach readers to solve the mystery along with our heroesalbeit without the help of Little Roo. Hopkinson includes some historical figures, including a Nigerian immigrant who effectively diversifies a typically whitewashed setting. Lighthearted cleverness invites readers to play along. (footnotes, historical notes, Q-and-A) (Historical fiction. 9-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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You see, but you do not observe.   --Sherlock Holmes, in "A Scandal in Bohemia"     I kept my head down as I went around the curve, hoping the pan wouldn't fly off my head. With my right hand, I steadied my quivering spaniel and tried to keep her from toppling out of the basket. Still, even one-handed, I swear I would've made the turn with no problem.   Except. Except the girl was standing in the middle of Maddox Street. I shouted, "Hey, watch out!"   Too late. I had to let go of Little Roo. I grabbed both handlebars and pulled hard to the left. I wasn't quick enough. My right pedal struck the girl's shin; we all went down. I banged my left knee. The pan clattered away and LR tumbled out of the basket. She bounced up and began barking and twirling in circles like a crazy windup toy. Overhead, bombers roared. From the ground, ack-ack guns shot defensive fire into the sky. I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my knee.   "Are you all right?" I yelled over the din.   The girl didn't answer at first. I reached out a hand to help her up. She pushed it away. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"   "Me? You were standing in the street! You're lucky I wasn't a bus: You would've been crushed flat."   Then I stopped. Pointless. It was pointless to argue. I could tell from her accent that the girl was an American. The city was crawling with them. Soldiers in uniform, journalists, navy and army officers sporting stripes and medals, young women in crisp American Red Cross uniforms. Everyone had come to prepare for the invasion of France. It was the only way the Allies could defeat Hitler and end the war.   I knew as well as anyone that we needed the Americans, but there was a part of me that resented these strangers. They hadn't been here during the worst of it. Three years ago, the Blitz had gone on and on. We'd lived through all-night bombing raids, incendiary bombs designed to burn London to the ground, rubble and destruction on street after street. A lot of kids had been sent to the countryside. My older brother, Will, and I had begged to stay.   The Americans hadn't lived through that. Compared to us Londoners, they seemed to burst with hope and energy. Maybe they just ate better. They had money to eat in restaurants, where (so we heard) you could  still get "real" food. They hadn't spent years waiting in long queues, ration cards in hand, to buy food that didn't taste much like food.   Latecomers. Too late to change what had happened to us.   Dad, as always, looked on the bright side. "We can't achieve victory without them, Bertie," he explained. "Britain needs American troops and trucks and tanks. We need them all. Be polite when you encounter anyone from the United States."   And so I tried again. "Sorry I knocked you down, miss. I'm a civil defense volunteer. It's my job to tell you to get to the shelter immediately. It's just up the street."   The girl snorted as she stood. She brushed off her coat. "You don't look very official. You look like a kid. And was that a tin pan on your head?"   I felt my face burn. "I'm thirteen. It's just . . . this is the first time I've been on duty during a raid and I couldn't find--"   That was as far as I got. All at once, the night splintered apart. Whoomph. Bam!   "Get down!" I hollered. I had just enough time to grab LR and throw myself to the pavement. I curled over her warm, furry body and whispered, "It'll be all right, girl."   We were lucky. I felt the ground shake, but the bomb had hit nearby, most likely a block or two away. I glanced up to check on the stranger. What is she even doing out alone at dusk? I wondered. Most people headed inside on a late winter afternoon, especially now that the German bombing raids had begun again.   "Please, miss . . . it's not safe to be out."   The girl shot to her feet. "I've got to go."   And then she was gone, flying off down the street, her dark blue coat flapping against her thin legs. Good, I thought. Maybe the noise has scared her. Maybe she'll follow directions and get to safety.   "Go past the big church on your left," I bellowed. "You'll see the sign for the shelter to your right." I couldn't be entirely sure, but it looked as if she'd darted right past it. I shrugged. Well, she wasn't my problem. Time to get to the command post.   LR wriggled out of my arms and started sniffing around. I went searching for the tin pan to stick back on my head. Next thing I knew, LR was at my feet, tail spinning like a propeller. Woof! Out came a muffled bark. Her little jaws were clamped onto something. "What have you got, LR? Drop it!"   I was about to reach for the object when the sound of footsteps startled me. I turned to see an older couple passing by, heading in the same direction as the girl. "Let's go, dear," the man called to the woman. "Almost there."   "I'm a civil defense volunteer," I hollered. "Take shelter now!"   "Thanks, lad, but we're almost home," the man said, reaching out to grab his wife's hand. "We've got a Morrison shelter under our kitchen table. We'll be safe."   A hatless young man with short dark hair came bounding right behind them. I tried my warning again. "Get to the shelter!"   He shot me a frown. I had a quick impression of an angular face and intense, blazing eyes. He looked preoccupied, as if he had something else on his mind besides ack-ack guns. And then, like the other three, he hurried off down Maddox Street.   "I give up! No one pays me any attention," I complained to LR, who was still wagging and waiting for me to claim what she'd discovered. I picked up a battered red notebook, small enough to fit in my trouser pocket. I slipped it in without thinking much about it, then reached out for LR. Excerpted from How I Became a Spy: A Mystery of WWII London by Deborah Hopkinson 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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