First Place:

Dear Terry McMillan,

I spend my summers, every summer in a small Northern Missouri town called New London. It’s an old highway town but with the bypass put in over 40 years ago, it’s falling apart. Main Street is the usual collection of a Ma and Pa antique store, a floral shop, the local watering hole, the post office, the Civil War courthouse with the cannon out front, and plenty of deserted buildings. The two gas stations and one grocery store are the gathering places for ancient farmers and good old boys, while the ironically titled “Curl Up and Dye” salon is where the latest gossip is swapped. This is how I pictured Point Haven in your book Mama.

Almost all the books I’ve read followed the same plot; a kid has a problem, goes on with life, and just when things are getting better, BAM, a big huge climax and then it is resolved and everyone lives happily ever after. But not Mama. Sure, it had many twists and turns, but they were unexpected. I mean, you start the book out in such an eye-opening way, you just have to read on. There was no way after that first sentence I could put the book down. I even asked out loud, “What is she doing with an axe?” The first paragraph, I was hooked. Your book taught me that words are very powerful and used in the right place can make the reader feel powerful emotions or have a perfect picture in their minds.

Every single scene from your book I remember like a favorite movie. One in particular, when Mildred is getting off the plane in Los Angeles and meets Freda, the image of Freda standing there with no bra, tank top and an afro is so unbelievably clear and vivid to me. It just encompasses the entire 70’s culture, not to mention civil rights movement. To this day, even though it has been about 6 months since I’ve read Mama, I think about that scene and picture Freda standing there, bathed in a sun-lit glow, and just radiating beauty. That’s what I think about when some one says beauty. Just pure, natural good looks. I just loved it that although you painted a perfect picture in my mind, I was able to twist it, put my own little spin on it and make it my own.

Now I know you probably get this a lot, but I adore the characters in Mama. I felt like an odd cousin or some strange kin adopted into this intense family. Each character is special and unique, but I do have my favorites. Mildred reminds me of my grandma, who was a single parent when it was taboo and definitely denounced. I felt like I could connect with Mildred on some level, as she was very determined to do what ever it took to help raise her children. Of course, I have no children of my own but I can recognize the kind of love only a mother could give, sometimes harsh, sometimes caring, but always with love woven in somewhere. I also saw Freda in parts of my self, which also sort of scared me, because of the precarious situations she got herself in. I know now that if I want to be successful in anything I do, I have to really work hard and not let little things divert my focus.

I know I will never forget Mama, the lessons I learned and characters I met and now love. Thank you again for writing and sharing Mama and giving me a chance to experience the Peacocks life, again and again and again. It’s a story I never grow tired of and I can’t wait to hear it again!

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Lauren Croll
Smithton Middle School, Columbia

Second Place:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Al and Joanna Lacy,

In all my wildest dreams, I never thought a trip to our wonderful little sleepy town library could start World War III in one household. This war was not between countries, states or even about political policies. It was between Father and Daughter over a book titled Whispers in the Wind.

From page one, it was difficult to put the book down. But when I HAD to, my Father picked it up and began reading. When he went to work, I would take it from his “special hiding place” and would read during the day. At night, he would tell me it was time for bed. After I had gone to sleep, he would sneak into my room and steal it back. After this had gone on for a week, I had to ask myself, “What was it about this book that captured the interest of a thirteen year old girl and a 47 year old man?”.

Throughout this book, I kept putting myself in Dane’s place. We have a lot in common. We are both Christians and know that God will take care of us no matter what life brings our way. I would like to think I would have taken care of the younger children. I had to ask my self questions such as, “Would I have given up my dream to be a doctor? Would I have been able to influence other people with my life? Would I have been able to show people around me God’s love? Would I have been concerned about those around me when I didn’t even have a place of my own to sleep? Could I have swallowed my pride to beg for food and money”? Dane’s mental strength impressed me. He was able to help the other children to go on with his life even though many horrible things happened to him.

I also realized how fortunate I am to have never been without food or shelter. During the time Dane lived, the country was in a Depression and people murdered just to survive. We have no idea how desperate we can become just to survive.

The orphan children had lost everything important in their lives–their parents, homes, love, and basic needs. But rather than becoming bitter, they were willing to accept love from their new families who were complete strangers. Could I have done that? I hope so.

This book made both my Father and me cry, laugh and yell out in anger. It made me realize my strengths and weaknesses. It also made me look deep inside myself to see who I really am. I would hope to be strong, faithful and considerate to those around me. This is the person I hope to become as I grow. Thank you for writing this book. It changed my life.

Hannah Faith Cheatum
Home school, Conway

Honorable Mention:

Dear Brian Jacques,

When I was nine years old, my mom gave me a copy of the book Redwall. I was immediately hooked, and your series has had a huge impact on my life ever since. Before I read your books, I had been the kind of kid who hated reading. I wouldn’t read unless the book was about something that I was particularly interested in, like buts, or if it was an assignment for school. After I read Redwall, I decided that reading was ok and decided to read the rest of the series. With each new book, I became more interested in books in general. There were dozens of books that were recommended by Redwall fans, and they turned out to be good, too. Suddenly, I could actually do something in the afternoon that was exciting and fun.

It is true that I had no connections to the Redwall series before I read them, but I do now. I have based several of my own stories on your book. Using recipes from the books, my family has had Redwall feasts, with the moles Deeper’n’ever pie, and hootroot soup. Now my whole family enjoys the series. Sometimes we talk about the latest books around the dinner table. I read the books aloud to my younger brothers, and we listen to tapes in the car. Your books brought my family closer together. I have three younger brothers who are also influenced by the books. The youngest one dressed up as Martin the Warrior, the mouse hero of the Redwall series, for Halloween last year. They like the plot that includes animals involved in good vs. evil conflicts instead of humans.

Your books introduced me to a whole new world of smaller creatures, and I now have greater respect for non-human animals. I can see things from a mouse’s point of view, and I often find my self wondering before I do something that might have negative consequences, what would Martin think? Those thought have changed the way I act towards nature. Thank you for writing the Redwall series.

Sincerely,
Josh Hosmer-Quint
West Junior High School, Columbia

Honorable Mention:

Dear Lemony Snicket,

This cheerless, depressing letter you hold in you hands will bring you nothing but distress and a throbbing sensation between the middle of your eyes. Please put this letter down immediately, for it is most likely hazardous to your mental health, almost as much as sniffing dry erase markers.

The Grim Grotto, the eleventh installment of A Series of Unfortunate Events, the gloomy succession of books that follows the terrible and desperate lives of the Baudelaire orphans, made me weep and cry for my mommy. It took me hours to read, between running to the store to purchase more tissues and people asking me, “How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?” I cried for Violet. I cried ceaselessly for Klaus. I cried sorrowfully for Sunny. I cried miserably for the Muffin Man.

For example: when I read that Violet, Klaus, and Sunny met up with the evil, cruel, heartless, vile, odd-laughing Count Olaf, I was torn between ripping the book to shreds in anger and frustration because the orphans cannot escape this criminal and throwing myself down on the floor moaning in agony, but I did neither. I actually got up and ate some dinner, which consisted of sesame seeds and water chestnuts. The dinner, thought delicious as it was, did not satisfy me, for it could not take away the pain that was drive into the very heart of me; the pain caused by the analysis of the tragic events that befell the vulnerable orphans. The constant oppressive cloud of darkness that loomed above the deprived children, brought nothing but anguish and peril, and aroused stinging tears to my eyeballs.

Nevertheless, I fully support your decision to pursue the Baudelaire offspring’s lives, and write down the catastrophes-a word which here means “the Baudelaires’ lives stink”-they face, however depressing they may be, to inform us of the horrible misadventures they are put through.

With all due respect,
Deanna Keeling
Marshfield Junior High School