However unexpected, the award is certainly deserved. Gaiman's The Graveyard Book stands as one of the most inventive, delightful books I've ever read. Aw, what the heck? I'm going to come right out and say it: This book is fabulous. Stop reading this review. Grab your keys. Hop in your car and head to the nearest bookstore. Don't waste time on library waiting lists. You want a copy of this book, and you want it now. What are you still doing here? I'm not kidding. Get thee to the closest bookseller and purchase this book. You will not regret it.

Okay, now that I'm talking to myself, let's rehash the story: One black night, a shadowy man kills three members of a family while they sleep (yes, this year's Newbery winner starts with a triple murder). His hunt for the last member - an 18-month-old baby - proves unsuccessful, as the child has tottered out the back door. Unaware of the tragedy that has befallen him, or the shadowy man who tracks him, the toddler climbs a nearby hill, seeking adventure. At the top of the hill sits an old graveyard, the residents of which are startled to discover a live baby in their midst. Sensing danger, a kindly ghost snatches up the child, vowing to protect him. The boy is granted Freedom of the Graveyard, which gives him invisibility from the living and protection among the dead. His new mother names him Nobody Owens, and proceeds to nurture him the best she knows how. With the help of Silas, a creature who dwells on the border between life and death, the graveyard ghosts raise "Bod," teaching him history (from firsthand accounts), manners (which haven't changed all that much through the centuries), ghostly tricks (Fading, Dreamwalking and Haunting) and language (everyone should know how to call for help in the tongue of the ghouls).

When Bod meets Scarlett, a living girl about his age who is playing in the graveyard, he feels alive for the first time. When she moves away, he is devastated. Desperate for some more interaction with his own kind, Bod begs Silas for permission to attend the neighborhood school. Knowing the man who killed Bod's family is still at large, Silas reluctantly agrees, but warns Bod to keep a very low profile. It's not long, however, before he is standing up to the school bullies, drawing more attention to himself than is wise. His bravery gets him into a fat lot of trouble - soon, it's back to solitary confinement in the graveyard.

If you followed my advice, you may already know how The Graveyard Book ends. If you didn't, then what are you waiting for? Trust me - you don't want to miss this most unlikely Newbery winner. A fun, family-friendly tale from the master of all things macabre - really, what more can a reader ask for? Nothing. So get off the computer and stick your nose in this book. It's so good, it's spooky :)

Grade: A+

I love me a good ghost story, even in January, when Halloween has long since faded away. Maybe it's because October in Arizona still feels like July; January's nice and crisp, like October in states with normal weather. Whatever the reason, I plucked The Night Tourist by Katherine Marsh out of my ginormous box of books from Disney Publishing (Thanks again, Hallie!) with great anticipation. I loved the premise behind the story - a boy discovers New York's Underworld, a kind of purgatory for the dead - and was anxious to see what Marsh did with it. Unfortunately, she didn't do quite enough to satisfy this reader.

This YA novel concerns one Jack Perdu, a ninth grader who would rather translate Ovid than play video games or chase girls. He lives with his father, a college professor who still grieves for Jack's mother, who died 8 years ago in a freak scaffolding accident. A loner, Jack spends most of his time with his nose buried in a book, a habit that leads to an accident of his own - he nearly loses his life when a car slams into him. Although he makes it out alive, Jack's not sure he's completely back to normal. After all, he's seeing and hearing some very strange things. A concerned Professor Perdu sends Jack to New York for a consultation with an old doctor friend.

Things get even stranger when Jack arrives in the city. Dr. Lyons turns out to be a weird old quack, who doesn't even bother with an exam. Then, while waiting for his train home, Jack discovers an odd girl named Euri, who tempts him into some "urban exploration." It doesn't take him long to realize there's something very wrong with his new friend. By that time, it's too late - he's trapped in New York's murky Underworld. Not surprisingly, Euri's one of its resident ghosts. Although Jack's not real keen on hanging out underground, he has one very good reason to stay - since his mother died in New York, she's likely to be hanging around the Underworld somewhere. He will give anything to find her.

Being alive in the Underworld does have its drawbacks - namely, Cerebus, a slobbering 3-headed dog on the hunt for living invaders. Armed with his father's map, Jack and Euri set out on a quest to find Anastasia Perdu, but the search turns up more questions than answers. Why is there an asterik next to her name in the record books? If her death was accidental, why the strange notation? With the help of Euri and some rather famous ghosts - Ruthven Todd, Dylan Thomas and Alan Ginsberg, to name a few - Jack will discover some startling truths about his mother. He'll also get a few shocks from Euri, who's not exactly what she seems. Jack's quest will also give him answers to his most probing questions - who is he? And what have his parents been hiding from him?

Jack's adventures make for a quick, action-packed read, but so much of the plot just didn't come together for me. I also didn't feel much of a connection to the main characters, although I found many of the minors - especially the dead poets - utterly charming. As I said before, I love the premise behind this book, I just wanted a more cohesive storyline, fuller characters, and more satisfying explanations for all the mysteries of the Underworld. Despite its flaws, the story did keep my attention. The ending was not exactly what I was expecting, so I found it a bit of a letdown. I really, really wanted to like this story, but it just didn't quite do it for me. I'm debating whether I should pick up the sequel or not - I'd say there's only a ghost of a chance.

Grade: C

Warning: While this review contains no spoilers for Second Chance Pass, I may inadvertently spill secrets from the earlier books. Trust me - if you haven't read the beginning of the series, do it. If you've already indulged, read on ...

The story opens with a discouraged Paul Haggerty drinking away his sorrows in an Oregon bar. Although he's still head over heels for Vanni Rutledge, he can't bring himself to tell her. That would mean betraying the memory of her deceased husband, Paul's best friend, Matt. No matter how passionately he loves her - has always loved her - Paul can't burden her with his guilty love. He stayed by Vanni's side through Matt's funeral, through her grief, through the birth of their child; now, it's time to head home and get on with his life. The only problem is he can't let go, and that leads to a one-night stand that gets him into even bigger trouble. Tortured by his poor decisions, Paul distances himself from the only person who can really bring him comfort. Meanwhile, Vanni can't understand Paul's reticence. Sure, she's still grieving her husband - she'll always miss him - but she's ready to move on. With Paul. Only, he's hiding in Grants Pass, ignoring her. Can't he see how she feels about him? And why is he being so cryptic about his life in Oregon? Is she better off with the handsome pediatrician who's all too available? Down at the bar, startling news from Ricky has Jack and Mel in a tailspin. Mel's second pregnancy has been tougher on her than the last - Jack's worried, with good reason, it turns out. Then there's Tom, who's relationship with Brenda's getting so hot everyone can feel the heat. What will happen to Brenda's tender heart when he ships off to boot camp? Speaking of heat, wildfires are burning up the hills, edging ever closer to the forests of Virgin River. A blaze could mean scarred trees, destroyed home and total evacuation of the little town.

My biggest complaint about Robyn Carr's books - and, really, it isn't much of a complaint - is that they're predictable. With Carr, happy endings always prevail. But you know what? It doesn't bother me. What I love about Carr is her ability to create the kind of warm, cozy towns everyone wants to live in, and the kind of good, loyal people everyone wishes they had as friends. Even though I know how the stories will end, I still want to read them. That says a lot about an author. Having said that, I need to say this - Carr really puts her characters through the ringer in this book. More than ever before, they have to fight for their happy ending. This makes Second Chance Pass the most exciting in the series so far. Virgin River, the first novel, will always be my favorite (since that's when I fell in love with sexy Jack *sigh*), but this one runs a close second. I couldn't put it down.

Grade: A

The first question people ask upon glancing at my newborn daughter is, "What's her ethnicity?" Her brown skin and curly black hair pretty much serve as a billboard, announcing loud and clear that she is not my biological child. The fact that she's bi-racial (her birthmother is white; her birthfather is black) doesn't matter a lick to me, but I realize it may become a challenge for her as she grows up in a white family living in a predominantly white community. My concern led me to Amazon, where I searched for books to give me some instruction. I found surprisingly few. However, In Their Own Voices: Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories by Rita J. Simon and Rhonda M. Roorda looked to be exactly the kind of book I wanted. So I ordered it, waiting anxiously for it to arrive on my doorstep. As soon as I read the Introduction, I realized the book was not going to give me what I craved. What I really wanted was reassurance that: (1) As a white woman, I can effectively raise a bi-racial child; (2) Said child will be confident, responsible and whole, unaffected by her birth and subsequent adoption, and (3) Because of the bonds we create, she will never long for her biological family, or prefer it over ours. A few pages in, I discovered that In Their Own Voices is hardly the feel-good, reassuring type book I thought it would be. Instead, it's unflinchingly honest, sometimes frightening, but always fascinating. Like one reviewer said, "It should be required reading for anyone who is thinking of adopting or has adopted a child from another race."

The book consists of interviews with 24 black and bi-racial adults who were adopted as children by white families. Author Rhonda M. Roordan, herself a transracial adoptee (TRA), conducted all the interviews but one - Roordan answered questions asked by co-author Rita J. Simon. Prompted by the authors' questions, the interviewees discussed their experience as black children growing up in a white family; their relationships with both the black and white communities; their views on transracial adoption; whether they consider themselves black or white, and so on. The interviews are presented in Q & A format, which allows readers to hear the people speak "in their own voices." It feels like an intimate roundtable discussion, a candid, no-holds-barred conversation with those who have been there.

Another thing that surprised me (I know you all are laughing at my naivete) was that there are people out there who vehemently oppose transracial adoption. In my mind, it's better for a child to be placed with a loving family of another race than for him/her to bounce around from foster home to foster home, waiting for an adoptive family of their own race. Even if the child feels out of place in his/her adoptive family, at least he/she is in a loving environment. So, it shocked me to read these statements from William T. Merritt, a spokesman for the National Association of Black Social Workers:

"We view the placement of Black children in White homes as a hostile act against our community. It is a blatant form of race and cultural genocide."

To be fair, Merritt made the first statement in 1971, and the second in 1985, when debates about race were perhaps more heated. It is also unclear if he considers bi-racial kids "Black children." When I first read these words, I was appalled, especially after reading interview after interview stating that few black couples are available to adopt. After pondering the idea that "white families - no matter how liberal or well-intended - cannot teach a black child how to survive in an essentially racist society" (9), I find myself at least understanding the NABSW's position. I still believe that love conquers all, but I can definitely see where the group is coming from. (For more information on the NABSW and their work to find suitable African American homes for children in need, please visit their website.)

The authors of In Their Own Voices do not take a stand on the issue of transracial adoption, or white parents raising black children; rather, they allow the reader to draw his/her own conclusions based on what he/she has read. What I took from the book is this: White families can successfully raise black children, but they should make a conscientious effort to expose their children to the black community. If they are not committed to helping their children find their identity - racial and otherwise - then they should not adopt transracially.

I'll be honest, certain aspects of this book scared me to death, but other parts actually did give me some of the reassurance I needed. Most of all, In Their Own Voices opened my eyes to issues to which I had not given enough thought. It's truly a fascinating, eye-opening look into transracial adoption. That being said, I also have to point out that this book was published in 2000, with most of the TRAs being adopted in the early 1970s. Also, most of the respondents were raised in the Midwest or on the East Coast. I'm curious how the experiences of TRAs adopted in the 90s would compare with their counterparts from the 70s. I also wonder how the lives of TRAs raised in the South or on the West Coast compare to those on the opposite sides of the country. I wish the authors had addressed both of these questions. Lastly, I should clarify something that the authors don't - all of the transracial adoptees with whom they spoke were either black or a black/white mix. So, if you are looking for a book that specifically addresses children of Asian or Eastern European or American Indian or Indian descent, this is not it. Of course, much of the information would apply, I'm just saying I think the cover should have noted that the authors were discussing black/white adoptions. All in all, though, In Their Own Voices is a fabulous resource for white parents and their children. I highly recommend it, as well as its companion volume, In Their Parents' Voices, which is sure to be just as enlightening as this one.