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Summary
Summary
Newbery Honor Book Turtle in Paradise is beloved by readers, and now they can return to this wonderful world through the eyes of Turtle's cousin Beans.
Grown-ups lie. That's one truth Beans knows for sure. He and his gang know how to spot a whopper a mile away, because they are the savviest bunch of barefoot conchs (that means "locals") in all of Key West. Not that Beans really minds; it's 1934, the middle of the Great Depression. With no jobs on the island, and no money anywhere, who can really blame the grown-ups for telling a few tales? Besides, Beans isn't anyone's fool. In fact, he has plans. Big plans. And the consequences might surprise even Beans himself.
Praise-
"As a storyteller, Holm is superb."- School Library Journal
"Holm impressively wraps pathos with comedy."- Booklist
"Anyone interested in learning to write crowd-pleasing historical fiction for elementary school readers would be wise to study Holm's work."- Publishers Weekly , starred review
"Sweet, funny and superb."- Kirkus Reviews , Starred Review
Author Notes
After graduating from Dickinson College, Jennifer L. Holm became a broadcast producer of television commercials and music videos for numerous companies including Nickelodeon, MTV, American Express, Hershey's and Huggies. Her first book, Our Only May Amelia, was a 2000 Newbery Honor Book. Both Penny from Heaven and Turtle in Paradise were Newbery Honor recipients in 2007 and 2011, respectively. She is also the author of numerous series including Boston Jane, Babymouse, and The Stink Files, which she writes with her husband Jonathan Hamel. Her title, The Fourteenth Goldfish made The New York Times Best Seller List in 2014.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (2)
School Library Journal Review
Gr 4-6-Beans Curry and his family are down on their luck. Their whole town of Key West is; it's the Great Depression, and jobs and opportunities are scarce. Beans learned at an early age that adults lie to children, and he goes on to apply that logic to the New Deal stranger who shows up in town one day, claiming the government sent him to make their dumpy town a tourist destination. Sure that the man is a lunatic, Beans ignores him as he tries to find ways to make money for his family, and sometimes even for himself. Beans evolves as a character when he realizes the role he played in a tragedy. In an effort to make up for it, he spearheads his gang into helping the New Dealers make tourism successful in Key West. Those who have read Holm's Turtle in Paradise may remember Beans as Turtle's cousin. However, familiarity with the companion book isn't necessary to enjoy this new novel, which is told in a series of vignettes that build on one another, some humorous and others poignant. The book's younger characters have an "Our Gang" feel to them, with adult characters playing decidedly backseat roles. Holm peppers the characters' vocabularies with phrases and slang from the time, which may take some getting used to. The most surprising thing about the work is that it is based on real history. Holm weaves a charming combination of old family stories into the history of the New Deal's Key West experiment, including further information about the history of the project at the end of the book. VERDICT Young readers will enjoy this heartwarming, humorous introduction to a challenging time in American history.-Juliet Morefield, Multnomah County Library, OR © Copyright 2016. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Publisher's Weekly Review
In this excellent prequel to the Newbery Honor-winning Turtle in Paradise, Holm recounts the origins of the Diaper Gang, the group of barefoot boys who have the run of Key West during the Great Depression. Their unofficial leader, Beans, narrates the arrival of the New Dealers who attempt to transform the poverty-stricken island into a tourist destination. Through Beans's eyes, Holm captures the population's economic distress ("Our town looked like a tired black-and-white movie"), with his father heading north to look for work, his mother's hands "red and raw" from doing the neighbors' laundry, and the ubiquitous "conch chowder." To help his family, Beans ventures into a life of crime, setting false fire alarms to create diversions for Cuban rum smuggler Johnny Cakes; dire repercussions motivate him to make amends, igniting his latent leadership skills to the town's benefit. Period details-like keeping Sears and Roebuck catalogues handy in outhouses, "marble mania," people with leprosy hidden by their families, and the Shirley Temple craze-make for entertaining and illuminating historical fiction. Ages 8-12. Agent: Jill Grinberg, Jill Grinberg Literary Management. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Excerpts
Excerpts
1 LYING LIARS JULY 1934 Look here, Mac. I'm gonna give it to you straight: grown-ups lie. Sure, they like to say that kids make things up and that we don't tell the truth. But they're the lying liars. Take President Roosevelt. He's been saying on the radio that the economy was improving, when anyone with two eyes could see the only thing getting better was my mother's ability to patch holes in pants. Not that she had a choice. There was no money for new threads with Poppy out of work. It was either that or let us go naked. Then there was Winky. He was the lyingest liar of them all. "You said twenty cans for a dime, Winky!" I pointed at the small red wagon. It was full of empty condensed-milk cans. I found them for Winky and cleaned them up. Even smoothed the sharp edges. Winky sold the cans to Pepe's Café, where they used them to serve café con leche--espresso and condensed milk. Everyone in Key West drank leche, even toddlers. "You must have wax in your ears, Beans," Winky replied. He had a potbelly and slicked-back, greasy hair that matched his slippery ways. The armpits of his Cuban-style shirt were stained yellow. "I said fifty cans." I was so burned up by his words that steam just about burst out of my ears. And believe me, it was sweltering outside. Key West in July was stinking hot. Especially stinking. Garbage had been piling up ever since the town ran out of money to pay for collecting it. Flies swarmed above the rotting mounds. They were filthy and disgusting, and my brother and I had spent the entire morning in them. Me and Kermit had dug through steaming piles of garbage from one side of Key West to the other, looking for milk cans. We'd dodged stray dogs and mosquitoes and fearless rats. I couldn't imagine a worse job in the whole world. Except maybe cleaning outhouses. Now Winky was trying to cheat us out of our money? "I heard you just fine," I told him. "You said twenty." "Sorry, but you're full of beans, Beans," Winky said, and then laughed. "Look: I made a joke. Get it? Full of beans?" "Hilarious," I said, and glared. "You're a regular comedian, Winky." "I suppose I could give you a nickel for twenty," Winky offered us, like he was a king doing us a favor. "A nickel?" I wasn't very good at arithmetic, but even I knew that this was a lousy deal. "Sorry, Beans," Winky added with a smirk. "Maybe you can find someone else to sell the cans to?" I glared at him. I would if I could, but everyone knew that Winky had the only milk can game in town. He was a cousin of Pepe's. "Beans," Kermit whined, tugging on my shirt. "I'm hungry." I sighed and rolled my eyes. Kermit wore crooked glasses and couldn't drive a bargain with a kitten. Winky saw the advantage and took it. A fake kindly expression lit up his face. "Why, Beans. Your little brother's hungry. I bet a nickel would buy a nice lunch." I swallowed my pride. "Fine," I muttered. "We'll take the nickel." "What's that?" Winky asked loudly. "I didn't quite hear you." I glared at him. "I said we'll take the nickel!" He dropped the coin into my outstretched palm. "C'mon, Kermit," I snapped. "Let's go." As we walked away, Winky shouted, "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Beans!" I'd been Winkied again. We sat in the shade of a sapodilla tree, eating our lunch. Broadcasts from radios tuned to Havana stations drifted out open windows. The streets were deserted. Everyone took siestas to avoid the worst heat of the day. Key West at noon was sleepy. "That's the last time we work for him," I muttered. "You say that every time, Beans," Kermit said, munching on the measly lunch the nickel had bought us: cracker sandwiches. Crackers with a smear of mustard and a tiny bit of ham. I'd wanted to buy a real ham sandwich from Pepe's Café. They made it Cuban-style--ham, mustard, cheese, and pickles, toasted on fresh Cuban bread. It was delicious. "Well, this time I mean it," I vowed. "Aw, he's not that bad," Kermit replied. "He gave us a nickel!" "We earned a dime, Kermit." Kermit was only eight and didn't understand how life worked. Maybe when he got to be ten, like me, he'd smarten up. "Gee, do you think if we collect fifty cans for Winky tomorrow, he'll give us another nickel?" Kermit asked. Then again, maybe not. "I'm still hungry," Kermit complained. "Get some dilly gum," I told him. The sap of the sapodilla tree made good chewing gum if you didn't much care about taste. Kermit scraped back some bark and dug out a wad of the sticky sap. Then he started chewing. Getting it soft took a while. Even though it was free, it still took work. A rumbling motor had my ears pricking up. There weren't many cars in Key West; even the folks who owned them couldn't afford gas. The shiny automobile rolled down the dirt road, hitting every gaping pothole. It looked strange and out of place, like something from a Hollywood picture. Kermit gave a low whistle. "That's some ride!" "It's a Ford Model 730 Deluxe V-8 sedan," I told him. I'd recognized it immediately from the newsreels. "The same car that Bonnie and Clyde drove." Everyone knew about the dead outlaws. Kermit looked at me. "You think a criminal is driving that car, Beans?" The car slid to a stop and parked across from us, and a man climbed out. "I doubt it," I said. I couldn't imagine any criminal who walked around without trousers. Kermit's eyes bugged out behind his glasses. "Is he just wearing his underpants?" "Sure looks that way." The underpants in question were long; they hit him just above the knee. They showed off pasty-white, hairy legs. On top, the portly man sported a long-sleeved suit shirt with a bow tie. He finished off the whole ensemble with a fedora. Maybe he was someone's relative who had just gotten out of the loony bin. Wouldn't be the first time. He wrinkled his nose and looked around. "My, that certainly is a powerful smell," he said, walking over to us. He had a thick mustache, and from the way he spoke, I could tell he was from off the rock. A stranger. "You should smell us, mister!" Kermit exclaimed. "We been in that garbage all morning!" The fella looked us up and down, from our bare feet to our patched-up pants. "Yes, it seems you have. Who might you young gentlemen be?" "I'm Kermit!" Kermit was like the mayor of Key West. Kid would talk to anybody. "This is my brother Beans!" "How quaint," he murmured. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Did you just insult us?" "Of course not, young fella. Why, I'm here to help you." He held out his hand. "I'm Julius Stone, Jr. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." I stared at the outstretched hand but didn't take it. When someone says they're gonna help you, they're just waiting to stick their hand in your pocket and take your last penny. I should know. I got relatives. "Mister," I said, "you're the one that needs help. You ain't got no pants." He looked offended. "They're supposed to look like this! They're called Bermuda shorts. They're the latest fashion." At loony bins, no doubt. "So, tell me, Peas . . . ," he began. Peas? Maybe he was deaf in addition to being crazy. "Is the rest of the town in a similar state?" he asked. He waved his hands at the weathered gray wooden houses, set close together, that lined the street. "What do you mean?" I asked him. "Are all the houses this decrepit?" "Huh?" "Run-down," he said bluntly. "Unpainted. Falling over. Crumbling. Et cetera." "I guess," I said with a shrug. Most folks in Key West were on relief. Paint was a luxury. Our town looked like a tired black-and-white movie. The man frowned. "Where you from, mister?" Kermit asked. "Why, I've come all the way from Washington, D.C. I've been sent here by President Roosevelt himself!" Yep. Definitely a lunatic. "Sure, the president sent you," I said, and laughed. Mr. Stone looked offended. "You don't believe me?" " 'Course I believe you, mister," I said. "Why, we just had the Queen of England visit here last week." "I'm not lying!" But I just shook my head. "Whatever you say, mister." Like I said: grown-ups are lying liars. Excerpted from Full of Beans by Jennifer L. Holm All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
1 Lying Liars | p. 1 |
2 Little Pests | p. 10 |
3 Keepsies | p. 21 |
4 Cut-up | p. 28 |
5 Bum Deal | p. 37 |
6 The Criminal Life | p. 46 |
7 Invasion | p. 52 |
8 Bad Baby | p. 60 |
9 Good Help | p. 67 |
10 Academy Award | p. 74 |
11 Party Line | p. 79 |
12 Dueling with Dot | p. 88 |
13 Dog Days | p. 96 |
14 Lessons | p. 102 |
15 Arithmetic | p. 108 |
16 Shoes | p. 114 |
17 Chasing Haints | p. 120 |
18 Smoke | p. 127 |
19 Hip, Hip, Hooray | p. 134 |
20 Hero | p. 140 |
21 Doomed | p. 147 |
22 Divine Divinity | p. 156 |
23 Opening Night | p. 163 |
24 Diaper Gang | p. 170 |
Author's Note | p. 181 |
Beans's Favorite Kid Actors | p. 187 |
Pork Chop's Best Sayings | p. 189 |
Official Rules of the Diaper Gang | p. 191 |
Resources to Keep the Conversation Going | p. 193 |
Acknowledgments | p. 195 |