Because my darling Pippa is perched, if a bit precariously, on the final edge of innocence before she starts middle school next month, I prescreen reading matter that could be just a mite too hormone-driven or psychologically twisted for her. For the her that appears to be, that is: the one in the beret and long scarf, freckles on her cheekbones and feet as flat as Kansas in her red size 9 espadrilles. The young girl who still gets a kick out of Amelia Bedelia and Nancy Drew. Not quite (Thank the powers) ready for prime time. If she could only stay that way for five or six more years!
So, full of grandmotherly solicitude, I picked up a potential book for Pips while shelving at the Book Depository. I liked the neon orange cat on a bed on the cover. The title was cryptic: "A Mango-Shaped Space". It was written by Wendy Mass, who says she would have been an astronaut if she hadn't gotten carsick, but we can discount that as the kind of thing that people say when they are trying to appear quirky and worthy of attention to tweens. Better to just ask them what's up with Lindsay Lohan. But this book was published in 2003 and I think Lilo was under the radar, mostly, that long ago.
Okay. So Mia, the main character, is thirteen and can't get math. In fact, as the book rolls, you find out that she hasn't been able to get math since she was in third grade but nobody tried to solve that little glitch. Now the math is algebra and things are getting dicey. Her trouble is that math is not in color and, for her, everything else is. Letters have colors. words and names have colors. She lives in a very bright, kinesthetic world. Her area of high function is art. And she has this cat, Mango, who is orange, has a lung disease, and was found by Mia at her beloved grandfather's grave side, the day of his funeral. Already this book is almost too complicated for a reader of my advanced years.
The name of Mia's condition is synesthesia. Lots of people have it, though more women than men seem to. Maybe men just suck it up. Wires get crossed in the brain and impulses jump all funny. Distracting, to say the least. Mia is glad to find out that she's not the only freak on the planet who sees the letter A in sunflower yellow.
Her family is a pain in the butt, collectively and individually. They all try really hard to be interesting and aren't. Her best friend has turned into a hormone-addled jerk. The cat gets shut out in the snow (this is wintertime Chicago) and dies. Mia learns how to make colors out of algebra. I didn't care, much. The cat had no personality and Mia was a spoiled brat. I think Pippa would put this one down after ten minutes. See how important it is to prescreen?
Hmmm. There's an awful lot of bad fiction out there for all levels. I certainly read a lot of it when I was young, back before the invention of "young adult" books. I read books that were mawkish and books that were overly-moralistic. I'm not sure it hurt - eventually I developed taste (such as it is). I'd say, if Mia picks a book out, let it be, and talk about it with her. But no - I wouldn't buy it.
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