The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis (English) Paperbac

Description: The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis This Newbery Honor Book and Coretta Scott King Award winner is now a Hallmark Channel Original Movie. When Kenny Watsons brother, Byron, gets to be too much trouble, the family travels from Michigan to Birmingham to visit Grandma, the one person who can shape him up. And they happen to be in Birmingham when Grandmas church is blown up. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description During one of the most important times in the civil rights movement, one unforgettable family goes on a road trip in this Newbery and Coretta Scott King Honoree, from author Christopher Paul Curtis, recipient of the Coretta Scott King–Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement.When the Watson family—ten-year-old Kenny, Momma, Dad, little sister Joetta, and brother Byron—sets out on a trip south to visit Grandma in Birmingham, Alabama, they dont realize that theyre heading toward one of the darkest moments in Americas history. The Watsons journey reminds us that even in the hardest times, laughter and family can help us get through anything. "A modern classic." —NPR"Marvelous . . . both comic and deeply moving." —The New York Times"One of the best novels EVER." —Jacqueline Woodson, Newbery Honor and National Book Award–winning author of Brown Girl Dreaming Author Biography CHRISTOPHER PAUL CURTIS is the recipient of the Coretta Scott King–Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement. He won the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award for his bestselling second novel, Bud, Not Buddy. His first novel, The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963, was also singled out for many awards, among them a Newbery Honor and a Coretta Scott King Honor, and has been made into a Hallmark Channel Original Movie. Curtis grew up in Flint, Michigan. After high school he began working on the assembly line at the Fisher Body Plant No. 1 while attending the Flint branch of the University of Michigan. He is now a full-time writer. He lives with his family in Windsor, Ontario. Review AN ALA TOP TEN BEST BOOK AN ALA NOTABLE CHILDRENS BOOK AN IRA YOUNG ADULTS CHOICE A NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW BEST BOOK NAMED TO MULTIPLE STATE AWARD LISTS "This is a book that changes lives. It certainly changed mine." --Kate DiCamillo, two-time Newbery Medalist "I identify with so much in Christopher Paul Curtiss engrossing classic, The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963." --David Barclay Moore, winner of the Coretta Scott King John Steptoe Award for New Talent "An exceptional first novel."—Publishers Weekly, starred review "Superb . . . a warmly memorable evocation of an African American family." —The Horn Book Magazine, starred review "Ribald humor . . . and a totally believable childs view of the world will make this book an instant hit."—School Library Journal, starred review Review Quote "An exceptional first novel." -- Publishers Weekly , Starred, Boxed Review "Superb . . . a warmly memorable evocation of an African American family." -- The Horn Book Magazine , Starred "Marvelous . . . both comic and deeply moving." -- The New York Times Book Review "Ribald humor . . . and a totally believable childs view of the world will make this book an instant hit."-- School Library Journal , Starred Excerpt from Book And You Wonder Why We Get Called the Weird Watsons It was one of those super-duper-cold Saturdays. One of those days that when you breathed out your breath kind of hung frozen in the air like a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly like a train blowing out big, fat, white puffs of smoke. It was so cold that if you were stupid enough to go outside your eyes would automatically blink a thousand times all by themselves, probably so the juice inside of them wouldnt freeze up. It was so cold that if you spit, the slob would be an ice cube before it hit the ground. It was about a zillion degrees below zero. It was even cold inside our house. We put sweaters and hats and scarves and three pairs of socks on and still were cold. The thermostat was turned all the way up and the furnace was banging and sounding like it was about to blow up but it still felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us. All of my family sat real close together on the couch under a blanket. Dad said this would generate a little heat but he didnt have to tell us this, it seemed like the cold automatically made us want to get together and huddle up. My little sister, Joetta, sat in the middle and all you could see were her eyes because she had a scarf wrapped around her head. I was next to her and on the outside was my mother. Momma was the only one who wasnt born in Flint so the cold was coldest to her. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled next to Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron. Byron had just turned thirteen so he was officially a teenage juvenile delinquent and didnt think it was "cool" to touch anybody or let anybody touch him, even if it meant he froze to death. Byron had tucked the blanket between him and Dad down into the cushion of the couch to make sure he couldnt be touched. Dad turned on the TV to try to make us forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in trouble. There was a special news report on Channel 12 telling how bad the weather was and Dad groaned when the guy said, "If you think its cold now, wait until tonight, the temperature is expected to drop into record-low territory, possibly reaching the negative twenties! In fact, we wont be seeing anything above zero for the next four to five days!" He was smiling when he said this but none of the Watson family thought it was funny. We all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his eyes. Then the guy on the TV said, "Heres a little something we can use to brighten our spirits and give us some hope for the future: The temperature in Atlanta, Georgia is forecast to reach . . ." Dad coughed real loud and jumped off the couch to turn the TV off but we all heard the weatherman say, ". . . the mid-seventies!" The guy might as well have tied Dad to a tree and said, "Ready, aim, fire!" "Atlanta!" Momma said. "Thats a hundred and fifty miles from home!" "Wilona . . . ," Dad said. "I knew it," Momma said. "I knew I should have listened to Moses Henderson!" "Who?" I asked. Dad said, "Oh Lord, not that sorry story. Youve got to let me tell about what happened with him." Momma said, "Theres not a whole lot to tell, just a story about a young girl who made a bad choice. But if you do tell it, make sure you get all the facts right." We all huddled as close as we could get because we knew Dad was going to try to make us forget about being cold by cutting up. Me and Joey started smiling right away, and Byron tried to look cool and bored. "Kids," Dad said, "I almost wasnt your father. You guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson. . . ." "Daniel Watson, you stop right there. Youre the one who started that Hambone nonsense. Before you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. And he was a respectable boy too, he wasnt a clown at all." "But the name stuck didnt it? Hambone Henderson. Me and your granddaddy called him that because the boy had a head shaped like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his head than a dinosaur. So as you guys sit here giving me these dirty looks because its a little chilly outside ask yourselves if youd rather be a little cold or go through life being known as the Hambonettes." Me and Joey cracked up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her hand over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a great big gap between her front teeth. If Momma thought something was funny, first youd see her trying to keep her lips together to hide the gap, then, if the smile got to be too strong, youd see the gap for a hot second before Mommas hand would come up to cover it, then shed crack up too. Laughing only encouraged Dad to cut up more, so when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a show. He stood up in front of the TV. "Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Fought dirty too, told your momma a pack of lies about me and when she didnt believe them he told her a pack of lies about Flint." Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. "Wilona, I heard tell about the weather up that far north in Flint, Mitch-again, heard its colder than inside an icebox. Seen a movie about it, think it was made in Flint. Movie called Nanook of the North . Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again." "Folks there live in these things called igloos. According to what I seen in this here movie most folks in Flint is Chinese. Dont believe I seem nan one colored person in the whole dang city. You a Bama gal, dont believe youd be too happy living in no igloo. Aint got nothing against em, but dont believe youd be too happy living mongst a whole slew of Chinese folks. Dont believe youd like the food. Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Dont believe youd like no whale meat. Dont taste a lick like chicken. Dont taste like pork at all." Momma pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Daniel Watson, you are one lying man! Only thing you said that was true was that being in Flint is like living in an igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. Maybe these babies mighta been born with lumpy heads but at least theyda had warm lumpy heads! "You know Birmingham is a good place, and I dont mean the weather either. The life is slower, the people are friendlier--" "Oh yeah," Dad interrupted, "theyre a laugh a minute down there. Lets see, where was that Coloreds Only bathroom downtown?" "Daniel, you know what I mean, things arent perfect but people are more honest about the way they feel"--she took her mean eyes off Dad and put them on Byron--"and folks there do know how to respect their parents." Byron rolled his eyes like he didnt care. All he did was tuck the blanket farther into the couchs cushion. Dad didnt like the direction the conversation was going so he called the landlord for the hundredth time. The phone was still busy. "That snake in the grass has got his phone off the hook. Well, its going to be too cold to stay here tonight, let me call Cydney. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the night there." Aunt Cydney was kind of mean but her house was always warm so we kept our fingers crossed that she was home. Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death. Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started. That was what we called our car. It was a 1948 Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brown. Uncle Bud gave it to Dad when it was thirteen years old and wed had it for two years. Me and Dad took real good care of it but some of the time it didnt like to start up in the winter. After five minutes Dad came back in huffing and puffing and slapping his arms across his chest. "Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again!" Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit cheering and started frowning right away. By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, "O.K., boys, lets get out there and knock those windows out." We moaned and groaned and put some more coats on and went outside to scrape the cars windows. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to try and get out of doing his share of he work. "Im not going to do your part, Byron, youd better do it and Im not playing either." "Shut up, punk." I went over to the Brown Bombers passenger side and started hacking away at the scab of ice that was all over the windows. I finished Mommas window and took a break. Scraping ice off of windows when its that cold can kill you! I didnt hear any sound coming from the other side of the car so I yelled out, "Im serious, Byron, Im not doing that side too, and Im only going to do half the windshield, I dont care what you do to me." The windshield on the Bomber wasnt like the new 1963 cars, it had a big bar running down the middle of it, dividing it in half. "Shut your stupid mouth, I got some Details ISBN0385382944 Author Christopher Paul Curtis Language English ISBN-10 0385382944 ISBN-13 9780385382946 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Residence Windsor, Ontario, -CN Illustrations Yes Short Title WATSONS GO TO BIRMINGHAM -M/TV Audience Age 8-12 Year 2013 Publication Date 2013-08-06 Imprint Yearling Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2013-08-06 NZ Release Date 2013-08-06 US Release Date 2013-08-06 UK Release Date 2013-08-06 Place of Publication New York Pages 224 Publisher Random House USA Inc Edition Description Media tie-in Audience Children / Juvenile We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:53206522;

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