The Heart and Mind of Frances Pauley

November 1, 2017
Frances, a white fifth-grader who calls herself Figgrotten, carries a heavy burden of isolation and loneliness that she is unwilling to recognize.Deeply involved in nature, Figgrotten likes nothing better than spending a day on the rocky hill behind her house, immersed in the outside world. She sleeps with her window open, and her bedroom is packed with her finds: tree branches, birds' nests, and assorted other reminders of nature. Her deep friendship with Alvin, the richly intuitive, elderly driver of her school bus, provides just enough emotional support to sustain her. But she's found effective ways to isolate herself: she dresses oddly, interacts hardly at all with her classmates, and keeps herself tightly reined in from saying too much in school, although her teacher endeavors to ease her way. Like a couple of others in her class, quiet Fiona, with a voice "like a papery whisper," and new boy James, who hides by burying his face in books, Figgrotten remains safe but alone in a sharply circumscribed orbit. With her relationship with her older sister, Christinia, crumbling, followed by the death of Alvin, Figgrotten's world falls apart. It's only after she begins to bridge the gap between herself and the affectingly evoked Fiona, Christinia, and eventually even James, that she finds solace.A moving depiction of unique characters, grief, and the benevolent power of forgiveness. (Fiction. 9-12)

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November 1, 2017
Grades 4-7 Figgrotten (or Frances to just about everyone else) is perfectly fine being alone, wearing the same wool hat and coat every day, idolizing anthropologist Margaret Mead, and spending every afternoon on a rocky ledge behind her house. But changes, some big and some small, upend the 11-year-old's routine: First, her sister is being unusually cruel. Then, a new boy comes to class who doesn't seem to recognize how his know-it-all behavior alienates their classmates. And finally, her wise, kind old bus driver ends up in the hospital. In a lively, distinctive voice, Stevens movingly narrates Figgrotten's emotional growth, as she gradually becomes less satisfied with being by herself and more invested in her friends and family. The changes are fairly subtle, but Stevens gracefully emphasizes that those small transformations signify something much more profound. Stevens' deft handling of her characterseveryone of them vividly multidimensionalis a particular high point, especially Figgrotten, who is at turns grumpy, stubborn, jealous, grief-stricken, and compassionate. This is classic middle-grade coming-of-age territory, but it has surprising, pithy depth.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)