Liar & Spy: Yearling
Autor Rebecca Stead Editat de Wendy Lamben Limba Engleză Paperback – 5 aug 2013 – vârsta de la 9 până la 12 ani
Vezi toate premiile Carte premiată
Cybils (2012), Capitol Choices: Noteworthy Books for Children and Teens (2013), Dorothy Canfield Fisher Children's Book Award (2014)
Praise for Liar & Spy
• A Junior Library Guild Selection
• A New York Times Bestseller
• An Indie Bestseller
• Kirkus Reviews starred review
• Publishers Weekly starred review
• The Horn Book starred review
• School Library Journal starred review
• The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books starred review
• Autumn 2012 Kids’ Indie Next List
• Nominated for the Best Fiction for Young Adults 2013
• Kirkus Reviews Best of Children’s Books 2012 List
• Publishers Weekly Best of Children’s Fiction 2012
• School Library Journal Best of Children’s Fiction 2012 List
• The Horn Book’s Best of 2012 List
• Barnes & Noble Best Books of 2012 for Kids List
• Amazon’s Best of the Year, Middle Grade (#3)
• A New York Times Book Review Notable Children’s Book of 2012
• Holiday gift guides: Chicago Tribune, San Francisco Chronicle, LA Times
• NPR Outstanding “Backseat” Reads for Ages 9-14, NPR’s Backseat Book Club
• One of The Atlantic Wire’s 25 favorite middle grade and young adult book covers of 2012
• The Wall Street Journal’s Best Children’s Books of 2012
• The Chicago Public Library Best of the Best 2012
• The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books 2012 Blue Ribbons List
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780375850875
ISBN-10: 0375850872
Pagini: 180
Dimensiuni: 130 x 191 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.14 kg
Editura: Yearling Books
Colecția Yearling
Seria Yearling
ISBN-10: 0375850872
Pagini: 180
Dimensiuni: 130 x 191 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.14 kg
Editura: Yearling Books
Colecția Yearling
Seria Yearling
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Public țintă
9-12 yearsRecenzii
School Library Journal Best of Children's Books 2012
Publishers Weekly Best of Children's Books 2012
Kirkus Reviews Best of Children's Books 2012
Starred Review, The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, September 2012:
“Readers will sympathize with Georges and Safer as they negotiate various familiar obstacles, but it’s the celebration that will leave them exultant.”
Starred Review, School Library Journal, September 2012:
“The ending twists readers’ entire perception of the events and creates a brilliant conclusion to an insightful novel.”
Starred Review, The Horn Book, September/October, 2012:
“Stead’s spare and elegant prose, compassionate insight into the lives of young people, wry sense of humor, deft plotting, and ability to present complex ideas in an accessible and intriguing way make this much more than a mystery with a twist.”
Starred Review, Publishers Weekly, June 11, 2012:
“Chock-full of fascinating characters and intelligent questions, this is as close to perfect as middle-grade novels come.”
Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews, June 1, 2012:
“[A] big-hearted, delightfully quirky tale…. Georges resolves his various issues in a way that’s both ingenious and organic to the story….Original and winning”
From the Hardcover edition.
Publishers Weekly Best of Children's Books 2012
Kirkus Reviews Best of Children's Books 2012
Starred Review, The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, September 2012:
“Readers will sympathize with Georges and Safer as they negotiate various familiar obstacles, but it’s the celebration that will leave them exultant.”
Starred Review, School Library Journal, September 2012:
“The ending twists readers’ entire perception of the events and creates a brilliant conclusion to an insightful novel.”
Starred Review, The Horn Book, September/October, 2012:
“Stead’s spare and elegant prose, compassionate insight into the lives of young people, wry sense of humor, deft plotting, and ability to present complex ideas in an accessible and intriguing way make this much more than a mystery with a twist.”
Starred Review, Publishers Weekly, June 11, 2012:
“Chock-full of fascinating characters and intelligent questions, this is as close to perfect as middle-grade novels come.”
Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews, June 1, 2012:
“[A] big-hearted, delightfully quirky tale…. Georges resolves his various issues in a way that’s both ingenious and organic to the story….Original and winning”
From the Hardcover edition.
Notă biografică
REBECCA STEAD is the author of When You Reach Me, which was a New York Times bestseller and winner of the Newbery Medal and the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award for Fiction, and Liar & Spy, which was also a New York Times bestseller, won the Guardian Prize for Children’s Fiction, and was on multiple state master lists and best of the year lists. Her most recent book, Goodbye Stranger, was a Boston Globe–Horn Book Honor Book for Fiction and a New York Times bestseller. She is also the author of First Light, which was nominated for many state awards. She lives in New York City with her family. Visit her online at rebeccasteadbooks.com.
Extras
The Science Unit of Destiny
There's this totally false map of the human tongue. It's supposed to show where we taste different things, like salty on the side of the tongue, sweet in the front, bitter in the back. Some guy drew it a hundred years ago, and people have been forcing kids to memorize it ever since.
But it's wrong--all wrong. As in, not even the slightest bit right. It turns out that our taste buds are all alike, they can taste everything, and they're all over the place. Mr. Landau, seventh-grade science teacher, has unrolled a beaten-up poster of the ignorant tongue map, and he's explaining about how people have misunderstood the science of taste since the beginning of time.
Everyone in my class, even Bob English Who Draws, is paying attention today, because this is the first day of "How We Taste," also known as The Science Unit of Destiny. They all believe that sometime in the next ten school days, at least one person in the room is going to discover his or her own personal fate: true love or tragic death.
Yes, those are the only two choices.
Bob English Who Draws is really named Robert English. Back in fourth grade, our teacher, Ms. Diamatis, started calling him Bob English Who Draws because he was always zoning out and doodling with a superfine Sharpie. Ms. Diamatis would say, "Bob English Who Draws, can you please take us through the eights?" It was her job to make sure no one got out of fourth grade without lightning-fast multiplication skills. And everyone has called him that ever since.
While the rest of the class is hanging on every syllable that comes out of Mr. Landau's mouth, I'm looking at the false tongue poster and I'm kind of wishing it wasn't wrong. There's something nice about those thick black arrows: sour here, salty there, like there's a right place for everything. Instead of the total confusion the human tongue actually turns out to be.
People, People
It's Friday afternoon, last period. Gym. Ms. Warner and I have done our Friday high five. We do it every week, because I hate school and she hates work, and we both live for Friday.
We're playing volleyball, with an exclamation point. Ms. Warner has written it on the whiteboard outside the gym doors: Volleyball!
The combination of seeing that word and breathing the smell of the first floor, which is the smell of the cafeteria after lunch, creates some kind of echo in my head, like a faraway shout.
In the morning, the cafeteria smells fried and sweet, like fish sticks and cookies. But after lunch, it's different. There's more kid sweat and garbage mixed in, I guess. Or maybe it's just that, after lunch, the cafeteria doesn't have the smell of things to come. It's the smell of what has been.
Volleyball!
Ms. Warner is at the net with her hands on her knees, calling stuff out to kids and smiling like crazy. "Shazam!" she yells when Eliza Donan gives the ball a halfhearted bump with her forearm. "Sweet shot!"
If you didn't know Ms. Warner, you'd think there's no place she'd rather be. Maybe she's trying out my mom's famous theory that if you smile for no reason at all you will actually start to feel happy. Mom's always telling me to smile and hoping I'll turn into a smiley person, which, to be honest, is kind of annoying. But I know she's extra-sensitive about me ever since she and Dad made their big announcement that we had to sell our house. She even recorded a bunch of America's Funniest Home Videos for me to watch: my smile therapy.
I tell Mom to please save her miracle cures for the hospital. She's a nurse in the intensive-care ward, where she has to check on her patients every fifteen minutes. It's a hard habit to break, I guess, all that checking. I've been watching the shows, though, and they do make me laugh. How can you not laugh at America's Funniest Home Videos? All those wacky animals. All that falling down.
I count the number of rotations we have left in "Volleyball!" before it's my serve and then glance at the huge clock in its protective cage on the wall. I calculate a fifty-fifty chance that the dismissal bell will save me, but the next thing I know I'm in that back corner, balancing the ball on one palm and getting ready to slap it with the other.
Don't look at the ball.
Point your eyes where you want the ball to go.
But the advice in my head is useless, because time slows down until everyone's voices transform into something that sounds like underwater whale-singing.
Well, obviously "underwater," I tell myself. Where else are you going to find whales?
I should be paying attention to the ball.
Just as I'm about to smack it, I get this feeling, this premonition, that I'm going to land the ball at least somewhere on the other side of the net, maybe even in that big hole in the second row where Mandy and Gabe are being careful not to stand too close because they secretly like each other.
I'm wrong, though. The ball goes high, falls short, and hits the floor between the feet of Dallas Llewellyn, who is standing right in front of me. My serve is what is called an epic fail, and some of the girls start doing the slow clap.
Clap.
Pause.
Clap.
Pause.
Clap.
It's sarcastic clapping. You know that famous philosophical question "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" Well, I have no idea, but it has to be better than the slow clap.
Ms. Warner is yelling "People! People!" like she always does when kids are mean and she has no idea what to do about it.
Dallas hands me the ball for my second try and I hit it right away, just to get it over with. This time it goes way left, out of bounds. Then the bell rings, kids fly in all directions, and the week is over.
There's this totally false map of the human tongue. It's supposed to show where we taste different things, like salty on the side of the tongue, sweet in the front, bitter in the back. Some guy drew it a hundred years ago, and people have been forcing kids to memorize it ever since.
But it's wrong--all wrong. As in, not even the slightest bit right. It turns out that our taste buds are all alike, they can taste everything, and they're all over the place. Mr. Landau, seventh-grade science teacher, has unrolled a beaten-up poster of the ignorant tongue map, and he's explaining about how people have misunderstood the science of taste since the beginning of time.
Everyone in my class, even Bob English Who Draws, is paying attention today, because this is the first day of "How We Taste," also known as The Science Unit of Destiny. They all believe that sometime in the next ten school days, at least one person in the room is going to discover his or her own personal fate: true love or tragic death.
Yes, those are the only two choices.
Bob English Who Draws is really named Robert English. Back in fourth grade, our teacher, Ms. Diamatis, started calling him Bob English Who Draws because he was always zoning out and doodling with a superfine Sharpie. Ms. Diamatis would say, "Bob English Who Draws, can you please take us through the eights?" It was her job to make sure no one got out of fourth grade without lightning-fast multiplication skills. And everyone has called him that ever since.
While the rest of the class is hanging on every syllable that comes out of Mr. Landau's mouth, I'm looking at the false tongue poster and I'm kind of wishing it wasn't wrong. There's something nice about those thick black arrows: sour here, salty there, like there's a right place for everything. Instead of the total confusion the human tongue actually turns out to be.
People, People
It's Friday afternoon, last period. Gym. Ms. Warner and I have done our Friday high five. We do it every week, because I hate school and she hates work, and we both live for Friday.
We're playing volleyball, with an exclamation point. Ms. Warner has written it on the whiteboard outside the gym doors: Volleyball!
The combination of seeing that word and breathing the smell of the first floor, which is the smell of the cafeteria after lunch, creates some kind of echo in my head, like a faraway shout.
In the morning, the cafeteria smells fried and sweet, like fish sticks and cookies. But after lunch, it's different. There's more kid sweat and garbage mixed in, I guess. Or maybe it's just that, after lunch, the cafeteria doesn't have the smell of things to come. It's the smell of what has been.
Volleyball!
Ms. Warner is at the net with her hands on her knees, calling stuff out to kids and smiling like crazy. "Shazam!" she yells when Eliza Donan gives the ball a halfhearted bump with her forearm. "Sweet shot!"
If you didn't know Ms. Warner, you'd think there's no place she'd rather be. Maybe she's trying out my mom's famous theory that if you smile for no reason at all you will actually start to feel happy. Mom's always telling me to smile and hoping I'll turn into a smiley person, which, to be honest, is kind of annoying. But I know she's extra-sensitive about me ever since she and Dad made their big announcement that we had to sell our house. She even recorded a bunch of America's Funniest Home Videos for me to watch: my smile therapy.
I tell Mom to please save her miracle cures for the hospital. She's a nurse in the intensive-care ward, where she has to check on her patients every fifteen minutes. It's a hard habit to break, I guess, all that checking. I've been watching the shows, though, and they do make me laugh. How can you not laugh at America's Funniest Home Videos? All those wacky animals. All that falling down.
I count the number of rotations we have left in "Volleyball!" before it's my serve and then glance at the huge clock in its protective cage on the wall. I calculate a fifty-fifty chance that the dismissal bell will save me, but the next thing I know I'm in that back corner, balancing the ball on one palm and getting ready to slap it with the other.
Don't look at the ball.
Point your eyes where you want the ball to go.
But the advice in my head is useless, because time slows down until everyone's voices transform into something that sounds like underwater whale-singing.
Well, obviously "underwater," I tell myself. Where else are you going to find whales?
I should be paying attention to the ball.
Just as I'm about to smack it, I get this feeling, this premonition, that I'm going to land the ball at least somewhere on the other side of the net, maybe even in that big hole in the second row where Mandy and Gabe are being careful not to stand too close because they secretly like each other.
I'm wrong, though. The ball goes high, falls short, and hits the floor between the feet of Dallas Llewellyn, who is standing right in front of me. My serve is what is called an epic fail, and some of the girls start doing the slow clap.
Clap.
Pause.
Clap.
Pause.
Clap.
It's sarcastic clapping. You know that famous philosophical question "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" Well, I have no idea, but it has to be better than the slow clap.
Ms. Warner is yelling "People! People!" like she always does when kids are mean and she has no idea what to do about it.
Dallas hands me the ball for my second try and I hit it right away, just to get it over with. This time it goes way left, out of bounds. Then the bell rings, kids fly in all directions, and the week is over.
Descriere
The instant "New York Times" bestseller from the author of the Newbery Medal book "When You Reach Me"Na story about spies, games, and friendship.
Premii
- Cybils Finalist, 2012
- Capitol Choices: Noteworthy Books for Children and Teens Recommended, 2013
- Dorothy Canfield Fisher Children's Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Agatha Awards Nominee, 2012
- Rhode Island Children's Book Awards Nominee, 2014
- Guardian Children's Fiction Prize Winner, 2013
- Charlie May Simon Children's Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Great Stone Face Book Award Nominee, 2013
- Keystone to Reading Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Parents Choice Awards (Spring) (2008-Up) Recommended, 2013
- West Virginia Children's Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Louisiana Young Readers' Choice Award Nominee, 2015
- Mark Twain Readers Award Nominee, 2014
- Bluebonnet Awards Nominee, 2015
- Carnegie Medal Nominee, 2014
- Land of Enchantment Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Maud Hart Lovelace Book Award Nominee, 2015
- Massachusetts Children's Book Award Nominee, 2014
- Nutmeg Book Award Nominee, 2015