Courtesy Random House |
Bigger Than a Bread Box by Laurel Snyder
I’ve made it pretty clear on this blog how much I enjoy
magical realism. But my affection for lovely, entertaining, suspenseful, and
moving Bigger Than a Bread Box goes far beyond the presence of a wish-granting
bread tin. What really made me love Laurel Snyder’s new book so much is its
protagonist.
Twelve-year-old
Rebecca is a eminently realistic tween girl — flawed and
likable. She gets bored by Civil War documentaries, she gets frustrated by her
little brother who she really loves very much, she shares laughs with her best
friend by sneaking peeks at dirty greeting cards (just one of the wonderful
little details in the book). Everything she does is believable. Which is why, reading
about her from a parent’s perspective, I so often felt like I wanted to be
there to comfort her through her angst — or warn her against the ill-thought, disaster-bound choices she was obviously making. Kids are so much more interesting to read about
when they make mistakes.
In the
story, Rebecca’s parents split up and she is forced to move with her mother
into her grandma’s house. Adjusting to a new house, new school, new
neighborhood, and new friends is just as difficult as you’d imagine. But it’s
made a little easier (or at least more surprising) by Rebecca’s discovery of a
magical old bread box. Whatever she wishes for appears from within its tin
confines. She starts off by wishing for exactly the type of things you’d expect
a kid to wish for: money, an iPod, macaroni and cheese. But when her newfound
loot doesn’t immediately change her life for the better, she ups the stakes,
wishing for more unexpected (and harder to explain) prizes. And of course, the
one thing she wants most — a reunion for her parents — is not something that
can appear in a bread box. And when she learns a dark and morally challenging secret about the bread box, the tension increases exponentially.
This is a
tale of dangerous magic, the kind that looks incredibly promising and
appealing, but which — if misused — can lead to ruin.
Be-careful-what-you-wish-for predicaments start snowballing. And you, the
reader, want so badly for things to work out for this girl, that you can’t help
but be drawn in.
Best for: Lovers of magical realism; readers looking for
tween drama with a unique twist; collectors of antique bread boxes
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