Posts Tagged ‘Down the Rabbit Hole’

Beginnings (More)

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April 15th, 2018 Posted 8:34 am

On Sundays, we’ve been doing beginnings – all the Chet and Bernies (as part of Chetspeak) – and now taking on all the Peter Abrahams novels in chronological order. Here, from 2005, #15, DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. This is the first of the Echo Falls series and my first children’s book. It came out the same year as OBLIVION (subject of last Sunday’s beginnings). DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE won the Agatha award for best children’s mystery.

[“A standout novel… The no-nonsense tone of the well-written prose, the multifacted characters, the hint of romance, and the subtly structured mystery open the potential fan base to include just about everyone.”
– Starred Review, Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books]

Ingrid Levin-Hill, three weeks past her thirteenth birthday, sat thinking in her orthodontist’s waiting room. You’re born cute. Babies are cute. Not hard to guess why – it’s so everyone will forgive them for being such a pain. You grow a little older, and people say, “What beautiful hair,” or “Get a load of those baby blues,” or something nice that keeps you thinking you’re still on the cuteness track. Then you hit twelve or thirteen and boom, they tell you everything needs fixing.

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Ingrid

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December 15th, 2017 Posted 7:56 am

This floated up out of the internet, reminding us of a certain book we wrote that led to all our writing for younger readers – a joyful task.

Book Review

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Agatha and Us

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February 4th, 2016 Posted 7:17 am

WOOF has been nominated for an Agatha Award in the best children’s/YA category. Winner – announced at the Malice Domestic convention at the end of April – gets a cool teapot. We know because DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE won in the same category in 2005. At this rate if we live to be 160 or so we’ll have several.

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Sunday With Ingrid

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June 3rd, 2012 Posted 9:32 am

“Open, please,” said Dr. Binkerman. He peered inside her mouth, felt around in back, where the screws were, with his rubbery fingers. “Been wearing the appliance?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” said Ingrid.

“Every night?” Dr. Binkerman drew back, looking at her whole face for the first time, fingers out of her mouth now so she could speak clearly.

“Uh-huh,” said Ingrid, although every night would be pushing it, if by “every night” Dr. Binkerman meant every single night, night after night after night ad nauseam. Ingrid didn’t want to get to the nauseam stage, so she never wore the thing on sleepovers, for example, or when she fell asleep reading, or on Friday nights, when she gave herself a regular breather as a reward for getting through the school week; and there might have been other random misses from time to time. She was only human. Still, what business was it of his?

“Keep it up,” said Dr. Binkerman.

Keep it up. He said that every time, and every time Ingrid replied, “I will.” But this time, for no reason, she said, “For how long?” The words just popping out on their own, the way words sometimes did.

Mary Jane, sticking X rays up on the light box, paused for less than a second, just a tiny hitch in her movement. Dr. Binkerman blinked. “How long?” he said.

How long? Had Dr. Binkerman lost track of the whole point of this? “Till everything’s all straight,” she said. “Till I’m done.”

From Down the Rabbit Hole.
Welcome Kelly from So. California.
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The Books



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