My sister, the Boss and The Willoughbys

I have a very bossy younger sister.  She is the greatest sibling  alive and her "take charge" attitude is fairly reasonable, considering she got it from both sides of the family and her teaching requires an air of command.   I just didn't know she'd want to boss me.  It all started out with a phone call.

"There's a children's book that's really good," she said, "You should read it." 

"Sure" I replied, thinking of the score of books I had praised and sent to her, still lying unread, on her shelves.  "Tell me the name and I'll look for it."  

"No, you should read it now." she replied. "I'll bring the book when I see you tomorrow.  You can read while we visit."

Then she hung up and I was out maneuvered.  I read The Willoughbys, per instruction.  Then I read it again, for fun.  Perhaps, I should mention it's good.

No one with a background in kid's lit will be surprised that The Willoughbys is good.  After all, it was written by Lois Lowry, that two-time winner of the Newbery Medal for The Giver and Number the Stars.  What might surprise you is how funny the book is.  The Willoughby children (eldest, Tim; youngest Jane and the twins, Barnaby A & B) have read so many 19th century children's books that they expect their lives will copy those tales of resourceful children who succeed, despite tyrannical authority figures.  Once they realize orphans have the lion's share of success in these stories, they decide to become orphans by sending their foolish, ill-natured parents on a succession of dangerous vacations.  Before you sympathize with the parents, understand two things: 1) the idiots go and 2) they leave the kids behind, putting their home up for sale. 
 
The narration shares much of the dry, tongue-in-cheek voice of Lemony Snicket.   How else could you explain a mother who will knit a sweater for the family cat but insists her twin sons share a garment (and a name) , saying, "“A, you wear it [the sweater] on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. B, you have Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. On Sunday you can fight over it.”  The sheer silliness of the idea will keep younger readers giggling.

Another treat is the glossary Ms. Lowry added to The Willoughbys.  It defines some of the "bigger" words for younger readers but in ways that will amuse any overseeing adults.   Consider these:

NEFARIOUS means utterly, completely wicked. The character in The Wizard of Oz could have been called the Nefarious Witch of the West but authors like to use the same beginning consonant, often. Perhaps L. Frank Baum crossed out nefarious after wicked came to his mind. Thank goodness, because Nefarious would be a terrible name for a musical.

CRYPTIC means seeming to have a hidden meaning. If your mother says, “Consider yourself grounded, mister!” it is not at all cryptic . But if she says in a certain voice, “We need to talk,” she is being cryptic. And you are about to be grounded.

See what I mean?  Funny!  There's a bibliography of books the Willoughbys mention with the same type of descriptions. I can't read Huck Finn's without snickering.

Yes, the book is a parody but like many parodies, it's clever.  The sub-plots come together as the reader fits disjointed pieces of information in the story, not unlike Louis Sachar's Holes.  But if you think you are going to guess the name of the famous candy tied to the story, forget it.  No one can anticipate that.

So, if you are forced to read to children this holiday season, listen to what they have to say.   Look over what they want to read.   Then adopt my sister's most autocratic tone and say, "Here's the book for us," and  bring out your copy of The Willoughbys.  Settle down and put a back finger on the glossary page, for easy flipping.  Then start to read aloud.  The children will listen and have a good time.   They'll admire your taste in literature.   But they'll never forget that you're bossy.