Don't Fade Away! Ghoulia and the Ghost with No Name by Barbara Cantini

It was a lovely snowy evening at Crumbling Manor. Ghoulia was a little weary from her snowball battles with her village friends, but inside the candle-lit mansion all thoughts were turning toward the up-coming "Dead-But-Not-Departed" New Year's Eve party.

But up in her tower, Ghoulia was feeling a little spooked. She had the creepy feeling that someone was watching her.

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She heard noises on the roof. Just a split second before he vanished, Ghoulia spotted a boy sitting on a patch of snow. He was glowing, too!

And in the morning there are mysterious, ashy tracks around Uncle Misfortunes fireplace. And in the early evening, there was a tap on the window that almost made her drop the book she was reading. And when Ghoulia and her dog Tragedy peered out, they saw a faded ghost boy floating outside!

"Let me in!" he commanded. "I don't have anywhere else to go!"

"What's your name?" asked Ghoulia.

"I can't remember!" moaned the little ghost.

Ghoulia knew that was a perilous state to be in for a ghost. Without a name and with no one to remember him, he was beginning to fade away. Unless he could find his name to remember, he would finally disappear. Kind Ghoulia knew she had to help. She decided to consult the most knowledgeable ghost she knew--Grandfather Coffin, who explained about Oblivion--the place where ghosts go when no one, not even themselves, still remembers their names.

Now Ghoulia knew what she had to do, but... HOW? Ghoulia visited the Crumbling Manor's extensive library. She made a photo of the little ghost, and used it to identify the little ghost's clothing as in the style of about 1810. Then Ghoulia asked for help from Auntie Departed, who told her that the local church kept records of all births, weddings, and deaths, but warned her that she dared not enter the church. Dreadful, unknown things might happen, she suggested. Ghoulia, with her fingers well crossed, promised that she would not.

But the gutsy Ghoulia was not one to let an old auntie's tales get in her way when someone needed her help, in Barbara Cantini's Ghoulia and the Ghost with No Name (Book 3) (Amulet Books, 2020), and with the help of the official Church Registry there was a newly re-discovered name, Nicholas, added to the guest list for the Dead-But-Not-Departed party at Crumbling Manor.

Beginning chapter book readers will find this third book in the Ghoulia series a spine-tingly spoof, a tongue-in-cheek ghost and ghoul story, illustrated in, er, lively color cartooning by the author. The author also appends more spooky fun, "Nicholas's Memory Games." For the first book in this early readers' series, see my review here.

Have Yourself A Merry, LITTLE Christmas! Merry Christmas, Mary Christmas! by Laurie Friedman

CHRISTMAS WAS A VERY MERRY TIME FOR THE CHRISTMAS FAMILY...

... Except for their daughter, Mary Christmas. It's enough of a burden to have a name that sounds like a holiday. But the real deal is that the Christmas family can't have a normal Christmas. Every year it has to be a bigger and better extravaganza.

Dad's Christmas tree has to be BIG, so Jack-in-the-Beanstalk big that they have to make a hole in the roof to put it up. Their outdoor lights are guilty of over-GLOW! Their pooch Rudy howls "Jingle Bells" when they go caroling. And Mary is borderline ashamed when they pile way too many presents in their cart when they shop. When the mall Santa take Mary on his knee, she makes a confession:

"I WANT TO LOVE CHRISTMAS," MARY TELLS SANTA, "BUT OUR TREE IS TOO TALL, OUR LIGHTS ARE TOO BRIGHT, AND EVERYTHING IS JUST TOO MUCH!"

Santa can't quite wrap his red-capped head around the idea of too much Christmas, but he gives Mary a wink and a nod.

"I HAVE A FEELING YOU CAN FIND A WAY TO LOVE IT!" HE WHISPERS.

But on Christmas Eve, Mary can't fall asleep. She tosses and turns until she comes to a conclusion.

And when the family gathers on Christmas morn, Mary makes a statement.

"WE DON'T NEED LOADS OF LIGHTS AND PILES OF PRESENTS!" SHE POINTS OUT.

And Mary Christmas shares her plan to give everyone a merry Christmas. They load up the Christmas van with their prodigious pile of gifts and the cookies and the lights and the enormous tree and take it all down to the town square, where they throw a proper Christmas Christmas party for the whole population--and for little Mary Christmas, it's just the right size at last.

Veteran picture book author Laurie Friedman's right-sized Christmas tale, Merry Christmas, Mary Christmas! (CarolRhoda Books) is a comic message about moderation in all things, including Christmas. Little Mary Christmas may be in the minority on the subject of moderate Christmases, but most will enjoy her jolly generosity with its quiet message of giving that suits the season.

Call Me Loved! Alma and How She Got Her Name by Juana Martinez-Neal

Alma Sofia Esperanza Jose Pura Candela had a long name. Too long, if you asked her.

"My name is too long, Daddy. It never fits!" said Alma.

Alma is small and her name is so long. But Daddy has a story to tell her about her name.

"Sofia was your grandmother," he began. "She loved books, poetry, flowers, and, of course, me.

"She was the one who taught me to read!"

Alma loves to read. She loves all those things and her Daddy, too.

"I am SOFIA," she says proudly.

And then Daddy tells her about her great grandmother Esperanza who longed to travel and about her Grandfather Jose' who was an artist and took him on long walks, and about her great great aunt Pura, who believed that the spirits of their ancestors were with them. And he tells her of Candela, her mother's mother.

"She always stood up for what is right!" Daddy says.

"And you are the first and only Alma." said Daddy.

And Alma Sofia Esperanza Jose'Pura Candela is ready to write her own story, one that fits her, in Juana Martinez-Neal's 2019 Caldecott Honor Medal-winning Alma and How She Got Her Name (Candlewick Press). As poet Walt Whitman said, "I contain multitudes." So do we all, and Alma's long name fits her and Auntie Pura was right: her ancestors are with her as she writes her full name and begins her own history just as they did. For people who may know something about their own roots, Martinez-Pura gets it just right, and her warm and charming graphite and colored pencil illustrations tell the story graphically for young readers. Says Publishers Weekly, "It’s an origin story that envelops readers like a hug."

Don't Call Me SPIKE! A Porcupine Named Fluffy by Helen Lester

Baby Porcupine needs a name. But Mr. and Mrs. Porcupine are stumped.

SHOULD THEY CALL HIM SPIKE?

NO. SPIKE WAS TOO COMMON.

It seems that in Porcupine country, most of the likely names for a little porcupine have already been taken. Lance and Quillian are classy, but, alas, cliched. Even the offbeat names like Pokey and Prickles have been pre-empted.
Needleroozer?

Are you kidding?

 Finally they come to an agreement.

LET'S CALL HIM FLUFFY!

It's an original, if improbable name for a little porcupine, all right. But as he grows up and his quills lose any soft, fluffy qualities they might have had, Fluffy begins to wonder whether his name is all that fitting.

And when he backs into a door and finds himself stuck fast to it, Fluffy has serious doubts.

Growing up porcupine is not without its hazards. Fluffy perforates his mattress when he tries to sleep on his back. A warm bubble bath makes his quills soggy but not soft. And when he holds an umbrella over his head, he pokes so many holes in it that he might as well try to stay dry under a colander. He tries whipped cream, shaving cream, feathers, and marshmallows, but he never achieves the intended fluffitude.

... THE TRUTH REMAINED.

FLUFFY WASN'T.

And then one day Fluffy meets up with a very large white rhinoceros who threatens to get rough and belligerently asks his name.  Fluffy fearfully answers, "Fluffy."

THE RHINOCEROS SMILED.  HE GIGGLED.

The more the rhino giggles, the more amused he gets.  Soon he's rolling on the grass and howling with laughter at the preposterous idea of a porcupine named Fluffy.

Fluffy is uncomfortable, and hoping to change the subject, inquires about the rhino's own name.

Even more giggles and gales of laughter follow. Fluffy shyly tries some guesses--Hubert? Herman? Harold?

"NO," GASPED THE RHINOCEROS. "IT'S H... H...  H... 

"... HIPPO!"

Helen Lester's and Lynn Munsinger's beloved porcupine tale, A Porcupine Named Fluffy (Houghton Mifflin, 2013) is back in a sharp new full-sized paperback edition, a story which humorously makes the point that no matter how silly your name may seem, there's always someone with one that's even funnier, someone who may even turn out to be your new best friend.  Munsinger's wryly  humorous illustrations, familiar from her collaborations with Lester in their best-selling Tacky the Penguin series and the award-winning Hooway for Wodney Wat and Wodney Wat's Wobot,  make this one a storytime favorite.