Each Little Bird That Sings (Golden Kite Honors) [Hardcover]

The other day I was speaking to a employee of the publishing house of Harcourt, Inc. We chatted about this and that but eventually I had to ask. What, in this employee's opinion, was Harcourt's best bet for the 2006 Newbery Award? I was told that word on the street was that people were all ah-buzz over author Deborah Wiles', "Each Little Bird That Sings". I had not heard of this book myself. Despite the fact that I am a children's librarian, and despite the fact that the book was sitting easy-peasy on my bookshelf, I hadn't thus far deigned to take it down and give it a look-see. In doing so I saw all sorts of things that could make it an award winner. Death, good writing, and a dog who shuffles off this mortal coil. But beyond the obvious depressing aspects, Wiles shocked me with the quality of the book. It's peppered with folksy wisdom and tidbits of advice about "life", but never in a way that feels like the author's laying it on too thick. "Each Little Bird That Sings" is a delicate balancing act between humor and pain and solid sensible advice for getting through an uneasy world.

When you grow up in a funeral home like Comfort Snowberger has, you have a healthy understanding of death. And within a single year Comfort's Great-great-aunt Florentine and Great-uncle Edisto have joined the choir invisible. When Edisto died the funeral would have been beautiful had it not been for Comfort's scrawny, big-eyed, unable-to-quite-grasp-the-concept-of-dying, seven-year-old cousin Peach. Peach managed to faint into a punch bowl, throw up, scream, and generally (in Comfort's eyes) make a nuisance of himself. Now Florentine's funeral is coming up and Peach is in Comfort's life again. Even worse, her best friend Declaration Johnson has suddenly turned mean. Real mean. If it weren't for her dog Dismay, Comfort might never know how to get through the next few days. But it takes losing the most important thing in her world to get our heroine to realize what it is to forgive both yourself and others around you.

The book begins with a matter-of-fact mention that Comfort's Great-great-aunt Florentine and Great-uncle Edisto are both dead. When you read this, you're inclined to laugh. A serious subject taken with this much upfront honesty often elicits a nervous chuckle from the kid reading the book. Wiles then immediately tells you exactly who has died and why they were important to the world. Every character is a distinct individual and their every action is completely understandable. To Comfort, growing up with death every day, Peach's violent reaction to it is immature and ridiculous. She's unable to see it his way, consequently making him have to come over to her way of thinking by the story's end. Now I'm about to spout an opinion that will give away a big ole plot point. SPOILER ALERT, if you will. If you would like to read this book through and not have this detail spoiled for you, stop reading right now and just know that I think this story is top notch. A pip. Swell. Nifty. You get the drift. Okay, here's my spoiler. In the book the dog, Dismay, dies. Which technically makes this a "dead dog book". The libraries of America overflow with this genre. In a recent meeting with librarians from Brooklyn and Queens this book's name came up and someone categorized it as yet another "dead dog book". I hadn't read it, so I couldn't defend it, but it really is more than that. Yes, the dog dies. Offscreen, I might add. But because of the arc of the story, the dog had to die. Peach has to learn exactly how to deal with the death of not just old people who are ready to go on to the next world but also the young who might have done so much had they lived. And yet the book isn't depressing. Remarkable, no?

The book could easily have turned cutesy or, 190 degrees the other way, overly morbid. That it is neither of these is something just short of a miracle. About the time Peach has thrown himself into the coffin of Florentine and is refusing to let go of her neck... well that was the moment I was hooked. As an author, Wiles has guts. She knows just when to sustain a moment or bring it up short. And I challenge anyone to read the last sentence in the book (which is just a hair short of utterly brilliant) and NOT find yourself snuffling back a tear or two. Admittedly, I had a hard time understanding why Peach keeps getting taken to the funerals of the people he loves. In my family, children do not attend funerals. Period. But this is a different family with a different set of values and as such what they do is understandable. They think their kids should understand death.

To be perfectly frank, this book does exactly what the lamentable, "Ida B" by Katherine Hannigan failed to. Where "Ida B" was all fawning treacle and too often felt like the author was trying too hard, "Each Little Bird That Sings" appears effortless. It's the kind of story that fellow author Joan Bauer tries to write for young teenagers but who also often falls into the overly saccharine trap of too-many-platitudes-too-little-prose. I was also amazed that author Katherine Hannigan can claim to be friends with such fellow big kiddie lit authors as Nancy Werlin, Deborah Hopkinson, and Norma Mazer. It is obvious that her contact with this talented helps her writing immensely.

There are plenty of titles out there meant to help kids understand death. "Mick Harte Was Here" by Barbara Park is probably the best known, but there are always old classics like, "Bridge to Terebithia" by Katherine Patterson and hundreds of dead dog books as well. Even younger titles like the recent "Michael Rosen's Sad Book" can help children deal with loss of one kind or another. "Each Little Bird That Sings" doesn't deal with children dying. Just older relatives and a beloved family pet. And how Deborah Wiles managed to balance the sweet with the serious with the funny is beyond me. I just know that this is a remarkable little book. There are lots of tears and lots of laughs and some highly satisfying writing going on here. A wonderful title that deserves a lot more attention.

I liked this book because it deals with the subject of "death" in such an unusual way ... with a lot of facts and even some humor.

Little Comfort is the daughter of funeral home owners and is rather nonchalant about death, having seen it so often, but when it strikes close to home and she has to deal with it on a personal level she learns much more about life ... death ... and how the loved ones left behind must deal with it.

Comfort is a lovable, charming, caring girl who comes up with some unique remedies to ease the pain.

This is a heartfelt book ... one that teaches children about death in a sensitive way. At times it's even humorous ... which must have been quite a challenge for this talented author.

"Remember that death is a natural thing --- it's all around us...Don't try to hide death from kids... Kids are better at death than grown-ups give them credit for...."

From the 2004 PEN/Phyllis Naylor Working Writer Fellowship winner and author of LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER --- an ALA Notable Children's Book, a Children's Book Sense 76 Pick, a Parent's Guide Children's Media Award Winner, and a New York Public Library Book for Reading and Sharing --- comes a touching tearjerker for young readers about coming to terms with death and remembering to appreciate life in all its capacities. With a slicing candor that is at times hard to stomach yet crucial to the book's overall resonance, Deborah Wiles has penned a second novel that will hit readers through the heart.

Ten-year-old Comfort Snowberger's family owns and runs the town funeral home in Snapfinger, Mississippi. In her short life, Comfort has attended 247 funerals and has taken part in everything from helping to bake the casseroles for the guests to writing her own version of the newspaper's obituary column, "Life Notices by Comfort Snowberger: Explorer, Recipe Tester, and Funeral Reporter." Along with her brother Tidings, her parents, her best friend Declaration, Great-uncle Edisto, Great-great-aunt Florentine, and her dog Dismay, Comfort does her utmost to keep everyone's spirits up under what are oftentimes the dourest of circumstances.

Life runs smoothly in the Snowberger household until the day when Great-uncle Edisto has a stroke and dies. A short while later, Great-great-aunt Florentine takes a tumble in the garden and dies as well, peacefully sprawled out amidst the lavender. With so much funeral preparation and mourning to do, the last thing Comfort expects is for Declaration to ignore her in order to befriend two "cooler" girls at school. To make matters worse, her eight-year-old cousin, Peach, is acting like a baby and receiving all the attention! At the end of it all, Comfort is left feeling confused, hurt, and worst of all, lonely.

Then, on the day of Great-great-aunt Florentine's funeral, when a massive storm rages and floodwaters sweep Dismay under the current and threaten to take Comfort and Peach's lives as well, the Snowbergers' somewhat nonchalant and comfortable relationship with death is shaken to its core. But, through straightforward discussions, patience and plenty of hugs to go around, they manage to slowly rebuild their lives by reaffirming their love for one another, their community, and their lives.

Deborah Wiles's second novel is a quiet yet immensely arresting read for young adults. From its honest and direct approach to death, to the author's cunning choice of characters' names (Comfort, Declaration, Tidings, Dismay), to the fact that the ending certainly made this grown reviewer cry, EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS is perfect for fostering parent-child conversations about what it means not only to deal with losing someone you love, but also to be thankful for what you have, while you have it --- "grief and fear and hope and love somehow woven together, somehow connected. All the messy glory."

   --- Reviewed by Alexis Burling