The Kneebone Boy

The Kneebone Boy
by Ellen Potter
Recommended Ages: 12+

The Hardscrabble children are (let's face it) strange. Elder brother Otto never takes off the scarf he has worn since their mother disappeared, and speaks only in a private sign language understood only by his siblings. Youngest child Max is a walking encyclopedia with a head for heights. And in the middle is Lucia, the narrator (though she pretends to be anonymous), scared and vulnerable and mouthy and fiercely protective of her family. A lot of self-deprecating humor works its way into her narrative, as she admits to being afraid of heights, repeatedly mistakes the meanings of words Max knows and uses, and addresses back-chatty remarks to the English teacher who asked her to write this studiously dramatic account of her family's most gothically creepy adventure.

Otto, Lucia, and Max live alone with their father, who is a portrait painter—except, when their father goes out of town to sketch studies of fallen royalty from around the world, such as the deposed prince who ate his breakfast while perched on top of a fountain, and the rejected wife of an African tribal chief who, when the lions growled at her, growled right back. During their father's trips, the strange Hardscrabble children usually have to stay with a neighbor lady who treats them poorly. On this occasion, however, they ride a train to London to stay with an aunt—who, thanks to a communication snag, proves to be away from home. After a hair-raising evening on the city streets, the three children find their way to a miniature castle (a child-size replica of the full-size castle next door), where they happen to know their great-aunt is staying. A woman they have never met. A woman whom they suspect of being their mother.

While they are working up the nerve to ask Aunt Haddie whether she is really their mum, they get caught up in a spooky mystery involving a figure seen in the top-floor windows of Kneebone Castle, a secret passage, a mechanical dragon, a deformed child kept hidden away by his family, a possible ghost, and a lost prince found hunted and hiding in a forest far from home. Before the pieces of the puzzle come together, the Hardscrabbles will take terrible risks and make tear-jerking discoveries. And while all their problems are not magically solved, what they find will carry their family past a point of painful mystery that has choked their happiness for years.

As the author of the Olivia Kidney series, Ellen Potter has already proven herself adept at steering brave young characters through rough emotional seas. We feel for their hurting as they slowly wrap their minds around such awful realities as death and mental illness in the family. While I have reservations about the realism and respectfulness of this book's treatment of the latter problem, I mostly enjoyed this book. I was particularly attracted to the way the Hardscrabble children get along together. Though at one point, Potter slips and makes a reference to Otto's tone of voice, she perhaps repairs this blunder by mentioning later on that a sharpness in his hand gestures came across to his siblings as yelling. And that's really where this book interests me: its sensitivity to the private ways loved ones have of reading each other, and by accepting each other's imperfections, becoming greater than the sum of their individual selves. In plain English, I was touched by the interplay between those strange Hardscrabble children.

More books by Ellen Potter (besides three or four Olivia Kidney books) include Pish Posh, Slob, The Humming Room, and Otis Dooda: Strange But True.

Bachelor Chow Steak Sandwich

On my way home from work today, I browsed the bakery clearance cart at a certain retail superstore and came up with a bag of 8 large, sesame-seeded rolls, marked down because today was their "best if used by" date. Next, I ran by the meat department, planning to grab a four-pack of hamburger patties, but decided instead to get a package of 7 small, thin-sliced steaks. Then, steering a route toward the cash registers that took me through the produce department, I impulse-bought a nice, soft avocado. And to steal again from Emeril... BAM!

When I materialized in my kitchen (sizzle, bang, poof), I sealed up three of the steaks in a freezer bag and popped them in the fridge for tomorrow. I took out two of the seeded rolls and threw the remaining half-dozen in the freezer. I took out my big skillet and, over a medium flame, heated a couple tablespoons' worth of olive oil. I added pepper and a teaspoon of minced garlic, stirred it around a bit, and laid down the four remaining steaks.

While cooking these on both sides (I turned them 2 or 3 times), I sliced open the two rolls. Then I skinned the avocado and scraped the flesh haphazardly, messily, onto the bottom half of each roll. I layered two sizzling steaks onto each mess of avocado, then smeared the top half of each roll with a bit of the "zesty steak sauce" that the local supermarket sells as a cheap alternative to Heinz 57 Sauce.

The results? Tasty. Juicy. Maybe not melt-in-your-mouth tender, but we're talking about round steaks here. What they lacked in tenderness, they made up in thinness. I could bite through them without having to make like a trapped fox gnawing its foot off. The combined flavors and textures made my day. And best of all, I managed this on a tight budget, on impulse, with no kitchen finesse whatsoever. Heck, I even used a plastic knife to cut up the avocado, and I ate the sandwiches off a paper plate. So laugh, ye bachelors! And salivate, Mom!

The Wishing Spell

The Wishing Spell
by Chris Colfer
Recommended Ages: 11+

I've never watched a single episode of Glee—simply because I don't watch TV—but even I am aware that author Chris Colfer acted and sang his way into millions of hearts in that series. And though he isn't the first actor to find success as an author of fiction—for example, Julie Andrews Edwards and Ian Ogilvy are among those whose work I have reviewed—I can't help being impressed by this kid. Scarcely 23 years old at this writing, he already has a Golden Globe award (Best Supporting Actor in a Television Series) and a New York Times Number One Bestseller. In my book, that's a sign of incredibly ambitious, wide-ranging, and precocious talent. The proof will come when he continues to bring forth fresh creative stuff.

This is Chris Colfer's first novel, aimed at younger readers, and it's the first book of a series called "The Land of Stories." It introduces us to twins Alex and Conner Bailey, who miss their father (who was killed in an accident), worry about their mother (who works double shifts at the hospital to support them), and struggle to fit in at school. Alex is a Hermione Granger type: smart and studious, eager to please, she often feels lonely and left out of her classmates' social cliques. Conner is pure trouble: mouthy and mischievous, brimming with activity, he has difficulty staying awake in class and frequently earns the wrath of his teacher. In spite of their differences, the twins are intensely loyal to each other. And so when Alex falls through a family heirloom book of fairy tales, and lands in the magical world where those tales took place, it's only to be expected that Conner follows her.

The world they discover on the other side of this book-sized gateway is divided into several kingdoms. Some of these kingdoms are ruled by fairies, dwarves, goblins, and trolls. Others have kings and queens who, as princes and princesses, were the heroes and heroines of such classic stories as "Little Red Riding Hood," "Rapunzel," and "Cinderella." A little time has passed since the stories recorded in Grandma's book, but such a very little that the twins soon begin to suspect that time behaves differently on both sides of the book-portal. So they feel the urgency of finding a way back into their own world, where their mother will be worrying about them and might even give them up for dead.

The problem is—How can they get back to their world? A huge but friendly frog tells them that he knows one way, described in a journal left behind by the last man who tried it. This route is called the Wishing Spell, and to complete it, one must collect a set of hard-to-get items from all around the Land of Stories. Things like Cinderella's glass slipper, a bit of Red Riding Hood's basket, and a lock of Rapunzel's hair. And though the rightful owners of these things are nice enough and willing to share, collecting the items will not be safe or easy. The roads are haunted by dangerous creatures. And an Evil Queen who has escaped from prison is also looking for the ingredients of the Wishing Spell—which can only be used once more. If the enemy gets to it first, the twins may be stuck in the Land of Stories forever. And yet, perhaps more disturbing than all this is the strange feeling that grows on Alex and Conner... the feeling that this magical world may be where they really belong.

I liked the tone and pacing of this young author's first book. In short strokes, he paints a word-picture of a really whimsical and charming world. He is especially successful in creating Alex and Conner, who are always saying and doing such fun things. He also proves capable of stirring deeper and darker emotions, and of provoking thought about the importance of story in our world. Book 2 of "The Land of Stories," set to be released in August 2013, will be titled The Enchantress Returns. I look forward to reading this, as well as Colfer's other novel, titled Struck By Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal. The latter has already been made into a film, written for the screen by and starring Colfer himself.

Princeps' Fury

Princeps' Fury
by Jim Butcher
Recommended Ages: 14+

In Book 5 of the Codex Alera series, young Tavi of Calderon, recently outed as Gaius Octavian—the grandson of Alera's ruling First Lord Gaius Sextus, and thereby Princeps of the realm—faces a crisis in which the antagonistic races that populate his world must either come together or perish separately. At the same time, the question of who will succeed Gaius Sextus reaches a crucial climax that will only be resolved in Book 6, First Lord's Fury.

In the previous books, we have seen Tavi grow from a spirited apprentice shepherd, through being a resourceful student and a daring secret agent, up to a gifted military leader with a knack for turning enemies into allies. And for most of that time, he has had to get by on sheer nerve and out-of-the-box thinking, while suffering the unique disability (for an Aleran) of being unable to call upon the furies of earth, wind, fire, water, wood, and metal to give him powers that others take for granted. Even now, when he has begun to manifest exceptional fury-crafting talents, he may be helpless to defend himself against the jealous wiles of high lords and ladies who will do anything, betray anyone, and murder any number of people to get power for themselves. And so his grandfather sends him on a mission to get him out of the way—a mission to escort the surrendered army of Canim invaders back to its homeland.

No sooner has Tavi's fleet sailed, however, than the land begins to face its direst crisis ever. The Vord are back, spreading their wax-like Croach, feeding off every life-form they encounter, reproducing and attacking in unstoppable swarms, and annihilating anything that isn't themselves. Now they're even worse than before, thanks to high-level traitors who have given the Vord the ability to read Aleran minds and to use fury-crafting, previously available only to the Alerans. At first by stealth, and then in overwhelming force, the Vord have begun to take over the historic heartland of Alera. Their course of destruction is aimed at the imperial capital. And so the realm no longer has time to carry on its endless skirmishing with the neighboring Icemen, leave alone the Marat horde and the Canim.

While Tavi finds out how much horribly worse things are in the Cane homeland, his mother Isana challenges the Icemen to leave their border with Alera in peace. In an even more literal sense of the word "challenge," she must also risk her life to persuade the leader of the anti-Icemen forces to leave the border, period. Only with their reinforcements does the realm stand any chance against the Vord. Meanwhile, Tavi's Uncle Bernard and Bernard's wife Amara set off on an all-but-suicidal mission behind Vord lines, to spy out the secret (if there is one) of beating this terrible enemy. And Gaius Sextus makes a shocking sacrifice to slow the Vord advance, in hope that the pieces he has placed on the board will have time to move into position for an endgame that others will have to play in his stead. Whether that leaves Tavi on the road to leading the Alerans into a brave new world—or whether there will even be a world—is a matter for the next book.

My evaluation? After my reviews of the first four Codex Alera books, I hardly know what to say that will not make me sound like a broken record. This book plays out before a fantasy-world-building backdrop that will astonish you with its inventiveness, its many-faceted detail, its sense of space and of history, and its potential to generate thrilling conflicts. It teems with likeable and hateable characters, strange creatures, individual and cultural peccadilloes that make its persons and peoples come to life. And in its central character it has an admirable young man of phenomenal charisma, whose future exploits you'll be eager to witness. The only thing slowing me down is the fact that my County Library does not yet hold the audio-book version of First Lord's Fury, read by the magnificent Kate Reading. I began the series with her, and I mean to end it likewise!

My First Ratatouille

For years, I have drooled over the traditional French veggie hotdish known as ratatouille, made famous by the movie of the same name. But I never had a chance to taste it until I made it for myself. Which I did just this evening.

Emeril's Ratatouille

Going in, I knew that the dish presented in the movie was not authentic ratatouille, but an original gourmet art work cooked up by one of the movie's culinary consultants. While that looks good, it also looks like a lot more work than the traditional recipe with rough-cut vegetables jumbled together in a bubbling pot.

The recipe I ended up following, when it came time to do the actual cooking, was the one featured on Emeril Lagasse's cooking show and published online. Unfortunately, I didn't consult Emeril until after I had assembled the ingredients, by which time I had neither time nor money to go back to the supermarket and correct my purchasing mistakes. So I had to cut a few corners, and the end result probably was not very similar to what Emeril envisioned. Nevertheless, I thought it was good, and I look forward to trying it again.

Now, wouldn't it be nice if recipes actually told you everything you needed to do, in the order you needed to do it? And I mean, starting at the grocery store, when you are trying to assemble the ingredients for a planned meal! To be sure, having the recipe with you at the store would also help. But it would cut through a lot of reading, re-reading, painfully construing, re-ordering of priorities, scribbling, squinting at your scribbles, and swearing venomously when you realize that you've skipped a step that the author of the recipe felt was implied by the string of adjectives embedded in each item of the list of ingredients, and in the past-participles sprinkled among his helpful instructions. Would it kill him to put the steps in order, so that even an idiot like me might get it right in one try?

So here's my memo to myself for the next time I do a ratatouille. Then, perhaps, I will be able to taste what the dish is really like, without a can or two of Ro-Tel covering up the horror of not having as much bell pepper as I thought I did, or pre-soaked dried onion flakes filling in for the onion (which I had used up cooking that runza the other day).

First, the shopping. As you approach your grocery store's produce department, bear in mind that for this dish to be at its best, you will need:

• 1 or 2 yellow onions
• 1 average-sized eggplant
• 1 good-sized zucchini (or 2 dinky ones)
• 2 yellow squash (because, face it, they're all dinky)
• 6 or 8 roma tomatoes
• 1 red bell pepper
• 1 green bell pepper
• a bulb of garlic or a jar of minced garlic (unless you still have some at home)
• thyme, basil, parsley, black pepper, olive oil, and salt (if you're running low at home, or feel like troubling with the fresh herbs)

Don't forget any of these things, and if you're planning another dish using any of them, buy extra!

Second, the chopping. Don't bother starting unless (until) you have a clean cutting board, a big sharp knife, a good-sized pot with a lid, and a big cooking spoon to stir with. Rinse off the veggies in lukewarm water and shave off any patches of skin that you have doubts about. Cut off the ends of the eggplant, zucchini, and squash. Slice each in half lengthwise (maybe thirds in the eggplant's case), roll the fruit 90 degrees and repeat; then them chop into mouthful-sized chunks with the skins still on. Cut the stems out of the peppers at both ends; open them up and remove all the seeds and flaky kid stuff; then slice them into long strips the width of your choice, before cutting these strips to the length of your choice. Then slice up the tomatoes (which only need one lengthwise cut beforehand), the onions (probably best if diced more finely), and the clove of garlic (hacked into tiny bits, if using fresh). Set aside the chopped pieces of each fruit or veg in a separate dish. If using the fresh herbs, shred them by hand; or make sure the shakers are handy.

Third, the cooking. This is a nice, friendly dish, in that (per Emeril's advice), you can cook it in 5-minute fits, setting the same timer over and over, and getting everything done on schedule. And you don't have to do much except remember what order to add stuff, stir 2 or 3 times within five minutes, and cover the pot in between stirrings. So, after you warm up about a quarter-cup of the oil on medium heat...

1. Add the garlic and onion to the pot; sizzle and stir for 5 aromatic minutes.
2. Add the eggplant and thyme (half a teaspoonful); cook for 5 minutes.
3. Add the peppers, zucchini, and squash; cook for 5 minutes.
4. Add the tomatoes, basil and parsley (one teaspoon each), salt and black pepper (use your own judgment); cook for 5 minutes.

And presto! You've got a ratatouille!

Some of the other recipes I've seen around call for some extra flavorings, such as a bit of vinegar and/or some anchovies. I happen to have some anchovy paste around, so I might try that option next time—probably adding it at the onion-and-garlic stage.

As for me, tonight, I had a ratatouille, made essentially as described above. Except, you know, with zombie onions and 2 cans of Ro-Tel. I did have some fresh onion and red & green bell pepper, but (as I learned too late) only enough to make a plate of fajitas with—not nearly as much as Emeril's recipe called for. I used them too, dumping them in as they were (i.e., in fajita-friendly strips), at the pepper/squash stage. They didn't cook as well as I would have liked, and together with the excessive spiciness of the Ro-Tel, they turned out to be the least enjoyable part of the dish.

But it was, over all, delicious—a different blend of flavors in each bite, a highlight of eggplant here (and I lurve eggplant), a note of fresh tomato there (which, to me, represents what sunshine tastes like), plenty of herb tangs and onion twangs, and firm pieces of vegetable that I could really feel when I sank my teeth into them. I most definitely will be trying this dish again. And I don't just mean the three 18-ounce tubs of leftovers that I put up in the fridge. Ratatouille, I shall return! And I'm taking this memo with me when I shop for your ingredients!

Best Bachelor Runza

I've discussed runza here before. It's a dish involving (at the very least) meat, onions, and cabbage, covered by a crust of bread or pastry. It is primarily known in Nebraska, where there is a chain of fast-food restaurants named after it and prominently featuring the "enclosed in soft bread" variant on the menu. The recipe circulates among the cookbooks compiled by church women's auxiliaries. It shows up at pot-luck dinners. And it forms a small but lovely part of my memories of growing up (partly) in Nebraska.

I made myself a runza last night. Having assembled the ingredients in a recent shopping trip, I tried a different approach to the dish. The result was the best church-cookbook-variant/bachelor-slob-gourmet version of runza I have ever achieved. I feel it is incumbent on me to share how it came about.

To start with, on several past occasions I have fiddled with the "church cookbook" recipe my mother handed down to me. I couldn't decide whether the recipe should include a tomato-based sauce or some type of gravy. I had tried it both ways, with about equal success—but while these attempts went over all right at pot-luck meals at my St. Louis area church, where Nebraska specialties like runza are a strange delicacy, I thought they were "only OK."

One of my experiments suffered from the fact that, on somebody's urging, I added cheese, only to find out that at least one of the people I was expected to feed could not have cheese. Another member of the party objected on principle to cabbage in any form, which put the dish out of the question for her. And most worrying to me, the sauce combined with the other fixings made the bottom crust limp and soggy. This problem increased, and spread to the top crust, when the leftovers were refrigerated and reheated.

So, as a new experiment, I made last night's runza without any sauce whatsoever. And though the dish required me to do my fair share of cooking, I also did it with a minimum of "prep-cooking."

First step: the shopping. Knowing that I was going to make this dish, I bought a good two pounds of ground beef (not particularly low-fat; I'm all for saving money, and grease can be drained off). I bought two canisters of Pillsbury croissant dough, the kind prepared as a single seamless sheet. At the produce counter closest to the deli area of my neighborhood supermarket, I bought a small tub of chopped onion—which, as a surprise bonus (I didn't notice until I was opening the tub) also contained some chopped celery. I bought a small bag of Dole plain cole slaw (the kind with mostly green cabbage, a little red and a few shreds of carrot, but no sauce). And I relied on the fact that I already had the utensils and spices that I would need.

Second step: the sauteing. I started with the ground beef. This I had to divide into two batches, breaking the meat up and browning it over medium heat in a medium-size skillet. I ground a little garlic sea-salt over it. I sprinkled on it some black pepper, paprika, thyme, and a little cumin. After each half of the meat was done, I plated it between two wads of paper towel and patted the grease out of it. Both portions of meat being done, I sauteed the onion and celery mix for a minute, then added the cole slaw and drizzled the whole mess with olive oil. I kept stirring this until it stopped being particularly hard to keep it from overflowing the pan—just enough to begin softening the cabbage.

Third step: the baking. I sprayed Pam in a lasagna pan. I spread one of the rolls of croissant dough in the bottom of the pan, then half of the browned meat on top of that, then the vegetable mixture on top of that, then the rest of the meat on top of that, and finally the second roll of croissant dough. Into a pre-heated 350-degree oven went the lot of it. I peeked inside the oven at 20 minutes to see how the top crust was coming. I let it bake for another 3 minutes or so, and took it out just as the crust was turning a nice light brown. I let it cool for a few minutes, then used the edge of a spatula to divide it into 8 servings.

Final step: the eating. My first serving was so delicious that I couldn't resist having another. I didn't miss the sauce at all. If the meat and vegetables lacked anything desirable for flavor or texture, the crispy flaky crust supplied it. Even the bottom crust seemed to be there, at least when the dish was warm out of the oven. I didn't miss the cheese either; with apologies to the restaurant chain, which seems to consider it a requirement.

The servings that I couldn't eat when the pan was still oven-warm, I stored in plastic tubs in the refrigerator. I ate one tubful late last night, one for breakfast this morning, and one for lunch. And it's gone, just like that. And, all right, a certain clamminess did start to set in, especially in the lower crust, so I was well motivated to finish the leftovers promptly. Two minutes in the microwave with the lid of the storage tub loosened, and the refrigerated entree was piping hot. I tried a little ketchup with today's lunch portion, and it did not go amiss.

Hunters of the Dusk

Hunters of the Dusk
by Darren Shan
Recommended Ages: 12+

"Vampire War," the third trilogy within the 12-book "Saga of Darren Shan," begins with this book. More like the previous "Book 1" than the first book in the overall series, it does not so much tell a free-standing story as set the gears in motion for a new chapter in the career of Darren Shan, half-vampire, magician's assistant, and (increasingly now) warrior prince. It promises to be a chapter filled with savage conflicts, creepy magics, strange surprises, and the dread of a sinister destiny.

Speaking of destiny, Mr. Desmond Tiny (Des for short) shows up at the Vampire Mountain one day, some six years after Darren established himself as a vampire prince. In the middle of a costly war with their vampaneze cousins (who, unlike vampires, actually kill the people whose blood they drink), the vampires are hardly in a mood to hear more bad news from the ancient mage and meddler in fate. But Mr. Tiny tells them that three, and only three, of the vampires must hunt for the newly-risen Lord of the Vampaneze. And if they don't make the best of their four upcoming chances to kill the Vampaneze Lord, the vampires will be wiped out.

Two of the three hunters, according to Mr. Tiny, are to be Darren and his master, Larten Crepsley. Accordingly, the two set out in search of their third companion. Still the vampire's assistant (even while he is an all-powerful prince), Darren trusts his friend. With the third member of the hunt—another vampire prince we haven't met before—they consult an ancient witch named Evanna, who has her own insights into the destiny of vampires and vampaneze, though she refuses to take sides between them. Evanna then joins the trio in a visit to the good old Cirque du Freak, where a few things have changed since they last dropped by. But a violent meeting with the enemy, and the surprising revelations that follow it, cut their stay short.

The book closes with the searchers setting out in a new and unknown direction, one step closer to the grim fate which, if they fail in their task, will leave only one of them alive to witness the downfall of their people. And so, once again, readers following the series are hooked, compelled to seek out the next book (Allies of the Night) and then, no doubt, the gripping conclusion (Killers of the Dawn). As for this one, as a standalone book, I have seen weaker installments in this series, and again I have seen stronger ones. As was the case in Vampire Mountain, you see a lot of stage-setting but not much actually happening. What does happen, however, may give you an idea of what to expect as the danger deepens and the destiny of vampire-kind dangles.