_The Memory Bank_ by Carolyn Coman and Rob Shepperson

This is one of those books I just grabbed randomly from the library shelf. It sat in our library book tote for awhile and was then picked up and pored over by our three not-yet-readers. They loved the pictures. When I finally picked it up, I also enjoyed looking at the pictures before I started reading it.

Then I started reading it. It definitely has the feel of Matilda (by Roald Dahl) in that Hope's parents are just about as miserable at parenting as parents can be. They leave Hope's younger sister, Honey, on the side of the road simply for breaking the "no laughing" rule and tell Hope to forget about her. Somehow Hope finds herself being questioned at the World Wide Memory Bank because she wasn't depositing enough memories.

For me, the story went downhill from there. To be blunt, it was boring. I kept getting the feeling that the whole book was an allegory for something, but I simply didn't care enough to try to figure it all out. It had something to do with memories, forgetting, dreams, hope, and parenting.

I suppose there's nothing in this book that shouts, "Keep away!" But there's not much compelling either. Except the pictures are nice.

The Petticoat Party series by Kathleen Karr

The series written by Kathleen Karr has four books: Go West, Young Women!; Phoebe's Folly; Oregon, Sweet Oregon; and Gold-Rush Phoebe. The books are historical fiction focusing on the life and times of one Phoebe Brown, a girl in her tween/early teen years traveling with her family on the Oregon Trail and later seeking her fortune in the California gold rush. The recommended age on the back is 10 up.

Gee, you'd think, with a title like The Petticoat Party, this series would be a no-brainer for a sure pick for girls. While the main character is a girl and there is some historical value, that's about all this book has going for it. And the list of reasons my daughters won't be reading it is long.

I first picked up the books at the library when my son (age 8) asked if they were okay for him. I was in a hurry and glanced at the cover. Hmm. . . not your typical boy book, I thought, but sure--it looks fun and historical. The next evening, after he had finished the first book and started on the second, he told me I should read them. I decided to read the back; I had time for that. And there was my first surprise:

"But just when twelve-year-old Phoebe Brown is sure she can't stand another day of her father and the other bossy male members of the wagon train, tragedy strikes. . . . They're going to change Manifest Destiny into Wo-manifest Destiny. . . no matter what it takes."  "Meet the first feminists of the frontier."

I needed to investigate this one further, so that night, with sleeping babe in arms, I read Go West, Young Women! and was appalled with what some on Amazon raved over and thought was funny. It isn't just a book that says, "Rah, rah!" for girls. It is a book that completely bashes and makes fun of almost all males.  I think, putting the best possible construction on it, that the humor flops. The characters are weak. The motivations that drive the plot seem forced. The description is pathetic. It just isn't good literature.

To top it off, it's not the great feminist book that it wants to be. Half of the women are just as pathetic as the men. Phoebe, the protagonist, isn't a strong female character; she has spunk, but no personality. The narrative is from her point of view, and she fixates on her chest and the provocative bodies of the Kennan twins, two girls who are boy-crazy and run off with Indian braves at every chance. She also notes repeatedly that her own older sister is overweight and dwells on it, making fun of her even. She only notes that her sister becomes beautiful when, starving due to running out of supplies on the trail, she loses a lot of weight. This attitude about body image is not one I want my daughters to pick up.

My advice is not to bother with these books; I didn't even bother to finish the series. The first three books were more than enough for me.