And since the books from your childhood have the biggest impact on your life, these idols stuck with us for a long, long time. From heroes to class clowns, our bookshelves were brimming with characters that we wished we could trade lives with. Simple, bella, un regalo permenente: simple and beautiful, a gift that will stay.If you're a '90s kid like me, your childhood was bursting with fantastic reads, and some phenomenal characters to look up to. Like all good stories, this one incorporates a lesson just subtle enough that readers will forget they're being taught, but in the end will understand themselves, and others, a little better, regardless of la lengua nativa-the mother tongue. This story seamlessly weaves two culturaswhile letting each remain intact, just as Miguel is learning to do with his own life. Eventually, Tía Lola and the children swap English and Spanish ejercicios, but the true lesson is 'mutual understanding.' Peppered with Spanish words and phrases, Alvarez makes the reader as much a part of the 'language' lessons as the characters.

She can also cook exotic food, dance (anywhere, anytime), plan fun parties, and tell enchanting stories. Tía Lola, however, knows a language that defies words she quickly charms and befriends all the neighbors. The last thing Miguel wants, as he's trying to fit into a predominantly white community, is a flamboyant aunt who doesn't speak a word of English. When Tía Lola arrives to help the family, Miguel and his hermana, Juanita, have just moved from New York City to Vermont with their recently divorced mother. Renowned Latin American writer Alvarez has created another story about cultural identity, but this time the primary character is 11-year-old Miguel Guzmán. This is a carefully coordinated story that only seems like haphazard scribbling. The informality of the presentation may help demystify the writing process for others Amelia's comments on the copyright page and elsewhere will certainly make them laugh.

Why not simply publish a real child's notebook? It's Moss's awareness of her material that allows her to thrust a narrative thread through the patchwork of doodles, postcards, memorabilia, and other icons of children's culture. Amelia scribbles notes in her margins about the writing process, revealing something interesting about creativity.

If this were an adult book, it would be labelled ``metafiction'' (or some other hip term that eventually means ``experimental''). Readers meet her as she moves to a new city, and follow her through her first days in a strange school with new friends. What she has to say is funny if unremarkable, but most importantly, she sounds like a real kid. Her story is told in her own words, pictures, and handwriting in her own composition notebook (the design of the book supports this pretext). Amelia is a bit smug and precocious, but then so are some of our favorite nine-year-olds.

Amelia's Notebook by Marissa Moss