Kadohata, Cynthia. Kira-Kira

For a book whose title means "Sparkly" or "Glittery," this is one book badly in need of some sparkly and glittery things. Because it's like the saddest book ever.

I may have awarded that title to a book before. My memory is short. But this one is a shameless tearjerker; be forewarned.

Lynn, Katie, and Sammy are siblings from a Japanese family, one of half a dozen Japanese families in their small Georgia town in the 1950s. Their parents work at the poultry plant, which is non-unionized, and the working conditions are just horrible, and of course there's a lot of racism.

And then Lynn gets cancer, and spends half the book dying, and it gets dragged out so long that it's really a relief when she finally does die.

It is a well-written book. There are a bunch of places where it annoys me, because it's kind of snickery, in that "Aw, kids are so cute when they're oblivious" kind of way.

But years ago when our parents were trying to make Sammy, Lynnie had told me never to go in our parents' bedroom without knocking. She didn't tell me not to listen at the door, however, so I knew trying to make a baby was hard work that required a lot of effort and grunting.

I guess I can't really dislike a book just for being grim. And, in fact, I don't dislike it. It's okay.

It's just that what it tries to be and what it actually is are two completely different things.

My sister had taught me to look at the world that way, as a place that glitters, as a place where the calls of the crickets and the crows and the wind are everyday occurrences that also happen to be magic

Well, Katie, if your sister taught you that, why couldn't the book be about some of that glittery stuff and not just about death death death death death? I think that probably the best thing and the hardest thing you can do in literature is to place the intensely alive and beautiful in juxtaposition with the things that are sad and painful and pointless, and I can see that that's what this book was going for, but... for me it doesn't come through all that well. The grimness comes through, and not the good things.