Gold Medal # 4: LONG ROAD TO THE CIRCUS, by Betsy Bird, illustrated by David Small, a review by Alexis, 21

 "Those People Keep A-Movin'/And That's What Tortures Me..."--Johnny Cash

In some ways, we should have known this book was coming. Betsy Bird writes epic kidlit reviews. She brings attention to books readers may otherwise overlook with her "folksy" style and razor-sharp, librarian ability to spot a good thing, plus a big dash of appreciation for creators and the babies- tweens they entertain. Other times, she goes batty for a book that I put on hold at my library and discover I'm not quite the enthusiast as Bird, but that's okay--because all of this thinking about what makes a good book and detailing fine qualities (and some pitfalls) in essay-style reviews means she's been honing her writing skills. Not to mention plotting what story corner she could carve out for herself. 

While possessing eclectic sympathies, it's not hard to discern her tastes. I've seen her say more than once that Charlotte's Web is the ultimate Neverbery. Her two picture books, Giant Dance Party (illustrated by Brandon Dorman) and The Great Santa Stakeout (illustrated by Dan Satant) are funny. I mean, she edited the anthology Funny Girl--which is, in fact, quite funny. 

I'm going to back to "folksy," because that's how a particular person described Bird's blogging voice to me. I'm not sure it was meant as a compliment. I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter. The book takes place among what we in north Florida would call 'crackers.' Poor folks. If these terms sound insulting, please know that my ancestors spent a good amount of time residing in chickees in the Everglades where no white man could reach. (That's not an insult, Mom!)  In my part of Florida, Native and Black people live side by side with white, small farmers who time has passed by. 

Enter one Suzy Bowles. The first page of the first chapter has an illustration by Caldecott Medal winner David Small of an infant tightly grasping a large finger. "Strongest grip in a girl I've ever saw," Daddy said, not without some pride". That's where the giggles start. While Suzy's mama is telling the story of her daughter being born for the millionth time, we meet Suzy's ordinary, highly eccentric family in Burr Oak, Michigan, circ 1920. There's Granny: "Doing something right gets you one poke. Doing something wrong gets you a lot worse." Suzy's brother: "Even Bill was laughing but that's because he's a nasty toad of a brother." Suzy's origin story is a great way to introduce many of the major players ("Oh, they're a regular funny troop, my family.") and it's a joke that keeps building till the reader is chuckling and a little dizzy with happiness.

That's not to say that the reader is lulled into a good old yarn or a hunk of nostalgia. Bird has an entirely original and convincing narrative voice that drives the story forward. And what is the essence of the story? That Suzy has "no intention of staying in this one-horse town". She keeps newspaper clippings from around the world in an old cigar box hidden under a weak board in her room. She takes them out to consider her prospects. "I was no idiot. I knew the world was gigantic" and  "Does meeting more and more people make you a different kind of person? Someone who has something to look forward to beyond farming and babies and cleaning and cooking and chores?" Suzy is a girl who wants more. It made me wonder why that isn't a more common theme in books. And how she's going to get it.

Right from the beginning, she says: "My name is Suzy Bowles and I've never been able to let go a day in my life." Of her namesake (?) Sally Bowles, writer Christopher Isherwood said: "She never struck me as being sentimental or the least bit sorry for herself." This is really good because (lean in--I should only whisper this) a bunch of middle grade fiction has somehow gone sappy. Bird's book demonstrates sap is not essential for a book's fine feeling or success. 

What ensues is a battle not for dominance but for a common, glorious goal between a wildly determined girl and an ostrich named Gaucho was has "more spit and personality than most of the other animals I'd encountered in my days combined." Skinny Suzy hangs on with a Cool Hand Luke-level of tenacity even when she's repeatedly bashed against a fence. She just won't quit because it's that or no way out-- and she knows the road is long. 

But I'm getting a bit ahead. How do Sally and the ostrich happen to cross paths? That would be Suzy's Uncle Fred. He comes to stay with the family and disappears every morning to escape from chores. Suzy's friend Mimi says: "You're uncle...who is not here at church, I may add...is up to something." Suzy describes the bags under Uncle Fred's eyes as "purple feed bags of misery." They're both right. Uncle Fred's attempts at riding Gaucho are, well, let's look at this hilarious illustration by David Small. It makes me guffaw when I'm not much in a guffawing mood. 

And that's a mood. This book takes place in the Depression. Young readers are now going to school in an unprecedented (for us) pandemic. People have lost their loved ones. Lost their jobs and homes. Tweens and teens don't always need escapism. We're aware of what's going on. But we need hope. 

We also need mentors in whatever crazy pursuits our hearts follow. Sally finds one in Madame Marantette, who really lived near Burr Oak. She's a fascinating character that we learn about at the back of the book with plenty of photos including the animals. There's also a note about Jimmy Winkfield and the history of Black jockeys. The book does its job but it's not too long. (And, thank goodness, there is no Indigenous land acknowledgment!) 

I'd better stop here or else I'll give the whole thing away. Long Road to the Circus comes out on October 5, 2021 and you ought to get yourself a copy.