a special edition for Middle School in ISA Book Week 2011
TOP TEN most borrowed MS books 2010/11
Robert Muchamore’s CHERUB series
Bart Simpson’s Guide to Life
Diary of a Wimpy Kid
Hunger Games Trilogy
Percy Jackson series
Jacqueline Wilson’s Lola Rose and Clean Break
Garth Nix’s Keys to the Kingdom series
Philip Reeve’s Mortal Engines series
My own poem (Bio-poem) I, Wenyu A girl, determined, careless, delightful, kind, cowardly, funny and stupid Daughter to Jodie and William, older sister of Peter and enemy to Peter Lover of donuts, ice cream, white chocolate, Kristen Stewart, computers, chips, YouTube, cakes, pasta and pop music Fear of caterpillars, ghosts, vegetables, strangers, Peter and dark rooms Need to wash my dirty shoes and buy more correction fluid Give help to the poor people, happiness to people I know and sometimes give trouble to my mom Would like to see no poor people in the world Resident of Taipei, Taiwan, but now Amstelveen, The Netherlands Chen
Our visiting author Marcus Sedgwick
Christer, Kate. Marcus Sedgwick. N.d. Marcus Sedgwick - About Me. N.p., n.d. Web. 7 Apr. 2011. <http://www.marcussedgwick.com/Marcus_Sedgwick/About_Me.html>.
Marcus Sedgwick is an award winning British author who has been writing since he was a teenager. He is a drummer and likes to listen to music whilst he writes. Even though his books have very different settings and ideas he always makes them a little creepy! For more information please see his website! marcussedgwick.com Nathalie has just finished reading White Crow, here’s what she says about it…“A suspenseful thriller that kept me guessing until the final chapter. Recently shortlisted for this year’s Carnegie Medal, White Crow has all the elements of a classic modern day thriller. White Crow is the story of two of dangerous friendships set generations apart in a town off the coast of England that is slowly being swallowed by the sea. How far will a friend go to help another find the answer to the age old question: What happens to us after we die?”
The lonely sail is whitening In the fog of the blue sea. – What is it looking for in a far country? What did it leave in the native land? The waves are playing, the wind is whistling, The mast is bending and squeaking; Alas! – it isn’t looking for happiness And it isn’t running away from happiness ! – Under it the stream is lighter than azure, Above it a golden ray of the sun: But it, rebellious, is asking for a storm, As if there’s rest in storms!
Mikhail Lermontov translated by Ilya Filonau
Белеет парус одинокой В тумане моря голубом. — Что́ ищет он в стране далекой? Что́ кинул он в краю родном? Играют волны, ветер свищет, И мачта гнется и скрыпит; Увы! — он счастия не ищет И не от счастия бежит! — Под ним струя светлей лазури, Над ним луч солнца золотой: — А он, мятежный, просит бури, Как будто в бурях есть покой!
Лермонтов Михаил Юрьевич
"Little Souls" Alice Wightman It was night. A black, moonless night; but the stars made up for the lack of moon, billions and billions of stars scattered across the sky, shedding their gentle light upon the small trees and scrubby grasslands of my home. A giant craggy rock, almost as high as the eagle soars, rose out of the plain. And deep within one of the many caves was where I lay, with my back to the entrance. I was curled protectively around 3 small bodies snuggled into my belly. It was small for a litter, but a small one was better than no litter as all. I stretched my head along the hard rock of the cave floor, and emitted a sigh through my teeth. I could not sleep. I had put it off for as long as possible, but I could no longer delay. One moon was old for cubs that had not yet seen their family, so tomorrow I would bring them to the pack. I could only dread what would happen. For the father of these cubs was Scraâ€™de, and a few moons ago he became one of the foaming-mouths; he will be long dead by now. The punishment for me as his mate was exile, but the penalty for being his off-spring was worse. Death. I must have fallen asleep, for I was woken by sunlight reaching into the cave, and by small teeth pulling at my belly. I gently yipped, and nudged them away. They were too old for suckling anymore, though the only male was persistent. He was smaller than his sisters, and his fur was still almost all smoky grey. I yipped again, though louder, and shook him off. I stood up and trotted to the entrance. The rock had a shallow slope away from me for about 8 pounces, and then seemed to suddenly stop. Beyond that I could only see blue sky, with a few wisps of clouds. Already the air felt hot, and I could tell it would soon be un-bearable for my litter. I turned my head around, and watched the small cautious amber eyes staring at me from the gloom of the cave. I yelped, and twitched my tail, motioning for them to follow me. The bigger of the females loped out straight away, her red fur glowing slightly in the morning light, and her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her sister soon followed suit, however, their brother still hovered at the cave entrance, somehow sensing we were leaving. I yelped again, and trotted around to the side of the entrance, and started down a narrow path going around the rock itself. Sure enough there was a little yip of alarm, and the male sprinted out of the cave and started following his sisters down the rock face. I did feel for him, but I was already tired of his cubbish behaviour. He needed to learn to let go, and not be so afraid to do something new. At his age a lot of things were new, so he needed to learn to embrace them.
Shaking my head, I paused, and looked out over the landscape. The rocks where the pack made their home were visible in the distance, shimmering in the heat. We could not afford to hesitate, yet I could feel tightness in my chest. I doubted being the head female would stop what was about to happen, and I knew that they were only one litter out of the many I had had in my lifetime. But only when you had watched little lives being born, wet and sticky, blind and helpless, whimpering pitifully. Only when you had spend days and days in a cave, snuggling them into the curve of your belly, washing their coats until your tongue was sore, feeding them with milk even when you could not feed yourself. Only when you had done all that, would you know what it’s like to be in my position. To have to give up those little lives, after everything you had done to help them, for something that was not even their fault. It did not matter how many litters you gave birth to. Everyone was the same, you would do anything, absolutely anything, to make sure they survived. And the feeling that you can do nothing at all is a crushing one, one that makes your heart heavy, and your breathing laboured. You want to howl, howl your misery out to the whole world, and you want to attack anyone, anything, that dares come close to you. But that does nothing, and you can only plod on, and feel your heart break, and threaten not to heal, as the little lives you worked so hard to keep alive just drain away… I quickly shook myself out of this spiral of self pity, and carried on trotting down the path. I refused to think about the future. When it comes, it will come, and as for now, I might as well concentrate on getting the cubs to the others safely. But I could not shake off the feeling completely, and as we picked our way down the path, dread filled me, and nothing I did would make it go away. It was just after sunset. The sky behind us was the colour of fire, orange and red and yellow, while above it was a light blue that quickly faded to dark, almost black with a few hints of stars to the front. I stood in the middle of the ring, wolves staring at us suspiciously. The little male was making quiet whimpering noises, and even the biggest female was cowering between my legs. Finally one wolf detached himself from the rest, and slowly walked towards me. He was slightly bigger than average, and his coat was more grey than most. Jarwe. I had suspected he would be headmale after Scra’de, not that I had wanted it to happen. I found him too harsh and controlling, even if the female was more dominant, and now he was basically the second leader of the pack. Not that it would affect me now, I mulled to myself. “Kryja, how nice of you to join us” he growled, not in any way welcoming. I arched my back slightly protectively.
“It was a late birth, and I wanted to make sure they were completely ready to make the long journey.” I growled back. It was a lie. Even Jarwe would realise that, but he made no notion of it, he simply twitched his mouth, and sat down. “Well, as you have been away for so long, we might as well give you the latest news of what has happened. Scra’de, our beloved head-male, was affected by the foaming-mouth. He joined the Bright Ones just over a moon ago.” Well, I thought it was quite obvious he had died. Why else would Jarwe be speaking instead of him? “As you probably saw, I have taken over his position. However, that is not all that has happened. As you are the head-female, this means you were also his mate, and therefore these cubs are his. And I am sure you know what this means.” I didn’t dare say anything. If I did open my mouth I would probably bite him. Jarwe put his head on one side, and stared at me as if he was examining me. I held his gaze for a few moments, and then dropped my eyes. My little cubs looked up at me fearfully, and even the male was silent. It was un-bearable, I could feel the eyes of the pack burning into me. At last I glanced back up at Jarwe, and he simply replied “Well?” I still refused to speak. He gave a hefty sigh, and said “It means you will be exiled, and your cubs will be killed. I assume you were aware of this?” Another long silence. “Yes” I quietly answered. “Good. The cubs can be dealt with straight away. As for you, you will have one more night with us.” It was not a question. He was not even asking for my approval. It was a fact, this is what will happen. Despite this, I still replied. “Very well then.” Jarwe curled his lips over his teeth in a nasty smile. “Excellent, I believe that it is Puhl who will perform the ceremony.” He turned his head questionly to the pack. Another wolf stepped out, unusually small for a male, but he held his head proud, and his stride was sure. I did not mind Puhl, I quite liked him, but it was his job that put me off. In fact, at this point I hated him, but there was nothing I could do. Suddenly that feeling came crashing down on me, and my breath caught in my throat. It took all of my will to not launch myself at him. Even then a small growl escaped. I felt my cubs flinch against my legs, and at that moment, I was aware of everything all of a sudden. I was standing on the dusty ground, surrounded by wolves, wolves I now felt no connection to. They were staring at me, shaking their heads in pity, but not really caring. Puhl had stopped, and was looking slightly startled, while I could see Jarwe smirking in the background. And trembling beneath me were 3 small bundles of flesh, blood and bone. 3 bundles that were made of the
same thing as everyone else around them. 3 bundles that would soon be no more. I froze. I was shaking with rage, and by some incredible force of will-power I was not going on a killing spree. This was it. What I did now would affect those 3 bundles that had every right to live as anyone else did. Yet I still had no choice. Once again I could feel the packâ€™s eyes on me. I slowly stepped back, and nudged the 3 little bundles forward; to their doom. Puhl visibly relaxed, and made comforting yipping noises. The little bundles, that I had given birth to, suckled, reared, and inevitably lead to their end trotted forward eagerly, having no idea of what would happen, what could happen to them. Puhl lifted his head to the sky, now all black, and murmured something in the ancient language. He bent his head back down again, his eyes glowing. He leaned towards the first female with his mouth open, and all I saw was his teeth close around the base of her neck. She just dropped to the floor, blood seeping out. Puhl now turned to the second female. Again, no sound. Finally he bent towards to the male, his eyes alight with that strange light. The male looked up fearfully, this time there was a high-pitched yelp before it was over. Puhl stepped back and licked his lips. But all I could see were those 3 small bundles, lying in the dirt, their life snuffed out. There was nothing inside me, and again, I was suddenly aware of everything. I was completely still, and then I turned and I ran. I ran away, away from the night-mare, and for a final time that feeling came crashing down on me, and this time I let it come, I opened my mouth and howled, I howled my heart out, for all I had lost, for those 3 little bundles that were now gone, and never coming back. I howled out my heart-break to the whole world, and I never stopped running. I ran and ran, not knowing where, just away, away from everything. I did not care, and I did not worry. I would find a new pack soon enough. All I thought about now was those 3 small bundles. All I could see was their bodies bleeding out their life force. And I carried on running, away from my old life, and towards a new one.
Retron. Dakota in the snow. 23 Feb. 2010. Flickr. N.p., n.d. Web. 7 Apr. 2011. <http://www.flickr.com/photos/46154790@N00/4382281410>.
Movie and Game Spinoffs from Books Jack Pupkin Tom Clancy â€“ book to game This author has a game company and he turns his books into video games. This is the first video game that he did.
Halo Fall of Reach â€“ book to game I think this is an awesome book with a great story. A must buy book if you are a halo fan.
Scott Pilgrim – book to movie Have you ever loved someone so bad it hurts ? Well somebody made a comic about it, and now it’s a movie too.
This movie is the best, so good you must see it. And we have the books at the library right now, read them, you won’t regret it!
A very big thanks to everyone who contributed to this special MS edition of Voice. Have a wonderful Book Week 2011!!!
Book Week 2011 Schedule for Middle School Monday 11th Voice Extra Published Drop Everything And Read 11.00 Wednesday 13th Middle School Dress Up! What book is your homeroom going to be?
Thursday 14th Author Marcus Sedgwick visits Period 1&2 – Grade 8 Period 5&6 – Grade 6 Period 7&8 – Grade 7