Book Review: Ferris by Kate DiCamillo
As a lifelong fan of Kate DiCamillo’s enchanting storytelling, I was thrilled to dive into her latest middle-grade offering, Ferris. The title alone hinted at a tale brimming with heart, humor, and those delightful, chaotic moments of childhood that make growing up so wonderfully messy. Little did I know that I would find myself not just entertained, but profoundly moved by the insights woven throughout Ferris Wilkey’s tumultuous summer.
Set against the backdrop of a quirky family dynamic, Ferris introduces us to 10-year-old Ferris, who finds herself navigating a whirlwind of familial drama, including her outlaw-aspiring sister Pinky, an eccentric uncle hiding in the basement, and a grandmother who becomes unexpectedly connected to a ghost. It’s a blend of humor and tenderness that DiCamillo masterfully crafts, pulling readers into Ferris’s world with the promise of a heartfelt adventure.
What struck me most were the beautifully rendered characters. Each family member feels authentic and relatable, bringing their unique quirks and challenges to the forefront. Ferris, navigating the tricky waters of preadolescence, often reminded me of my own childhood dilemmas, attempting to balance family loyalty with personal growth. I found myself chuckling at Uncle Ted’s eccentricities and nodding in agreement during Ferris’s interactions with Charisse, who, with her sagely advice, reminded us that “Every good story is a love story.” This line lingered with me, as it encapsulates the essence of what familial bonds truly are—full of love, lessons, and sometimes, lighthearted chaos.
DiCamillo’s writing style continues to charm, featuring a mix of whimsical narration and rich vocabulary that feels delightful to encounter. Words become a playful part of the narrative, encouraging readers (especially younger ones) to embrace the beauty of language. Ferris’s growth isn’t just about managing the ghostly visitor and her family’s shenanigans; it’s also about finding one’s voice—a lesson that resonates deeply with readers of all ages.
A particularly striking moment comes when Ferris reflects on the chaos of her summer, illustrating how such pandemonium can actually illuminate the love that pervades her family. For parents and young readers alike, this message rings true: chaos often brings clarity.
I firmly believe Ferris will resonate well with children ages 8-12, but it’s also a book that parents will cherish, finding themselves swept away in its lyrical storytelling. It’s a perfect read for family nights, as its blend of warmth, humor, and light-hearted spookiness creates plenty of moments for discussion and laughter.
In conclusion, Ferris is a delightful foray into the complexities of family life, growing up, and the gentle wisdom of embracing both the chaos and the joy that comes with love. As I closed the final pages, I felt a renewed appreciation for the simple yet profound stories of childhood. I truly recommend Ferris to anyone who wishes to remember, or is currently experiencing, the beautiful messiness of growing up. It’s a heartfelt journey that captivated me, leaving me with a smile—much like the summer afternoons of my own childhood.