(This is more of an experience with the book then an actual review)Ok. Let's start with the fact that I read this book about a year or two ago...maybe more. So I def didnt know it was a series. *yikes* I don't really remember much now. But I feel like I might of been confused at some points [prob...
A fairytale, a mystery, a history of hot-air ballooning, and a romance . . . A novel so brilliant, moving, zingy -- and Zingy -- that it could only have come from Jaclyn Moriarty. The Zing family lives in a world of misguided spell books, singular poetry, and state-of-the-art surveillance equipm...
4.5 starsAs Bindy would say, I devoured this book. It's long, but I actually ripped through it. And I loved it. I want to give this book to the people who treat YA as some kind of bastard genre -- I've been wrestling with On The Road for weeks. I zipped through this in one night.Jaclyn Moriarty -...
Cath Murphy, second-grade teacher, was feeling awkward and foolish, but she also felt this: quirky, cocky, small, funny, wicked and extremely blonde. As her mother liked to say, all meetings with new people, even locksmiths or seven-year-olds, can make you a little afraid. She was about to meet h...
Feeling Sorry for Celia is hilarious, heartfelt, and an absolute delight. Moriarty's specialty seems to be novels told in an epistolary form and her talent comes alive in this novel. Elizabeth, the protagonist of our tale, begins a written correspondence with Christina, a girl from a neighboring ...
Students headed to afternoon rollcall, unaware of the transformation that awaited them. Soon, they would become aware!! As the students flooded into the wing, aiming for their lockers, a gasp of horror rose up. It was a gasp that could probably be heard as far afield as the Castle Hill RSL! (Whic...
Friday was astonishing. I was just taking a little break from History in the library, downloading some mobile ringtones at the computer there, and Lyd came skidding in, breathless and shiny-eyed. She had just got the letter from Seb, disclosing Matthew’s identity, and she also handed me your lett...
On the stillest nights, you could hear the clock tower from all the way out on the Baranski Farm. Or maybe he was imagining that. Either way, it was midnight now, and Elliot’s eyelashes kept lowering. He shook himself hard and looked at the Butterfl...