I’m a big fan of the Origami Yoda books (as evidenced here and here and even though I haven’t reviewed it, I liked The Secret of the Fortune Wookiee too) so you know I was eager to read the latest entry as soon as it was released. And it was not disappointing. Rather than write a traditional review outlining the plot, you know, without giving too much away, I’ll just say one quick thing and then get to the really cool stuff I loved. Jabba the Puppett continues the seventh grade adventures of Dwight, Tommy, Sara, Kellen, their friends and their Star Wars origami cohorts. And it’s really funny. But what I really love is this stuff . . . Believe it or not, I missed this one the first time through:
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When I read "Queen Origamidala," I laughed out loud. (And had no one near me to appreciate the humor.)
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That's some sandwich:
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Not sure if it was the whole idea of a "pizza boat" or the Death Star comparison, but funny nonetheless.
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Every rebellion needs a symbol.
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Were the students right with this comparison?
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Or this one?
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Can you see a seventh grader waving his hand in front of a teacher or something?
Even in middle school kids know rude when they hear it:
Where's your hope?
And finally, my unquestioned favorite from the book, especially when you know that "Kiss This Kiss," the worst song in the history of music, could be about half of the songs currently playing on the radio in real life.
Simply put, Fake Mustache by Tom Angleberger is a book that grown-ups should be recommending to young readers. As a public service, I offer several suggestions to would be recommenders for doing just that.
First, point out the book’s alternate title. Listed underneath the impressively mustachioed young man on the cover, it reads How Jodie O’Rodeo and Her Wonder Horse (and Some Nerdy Kid) Saved the U.S. Presidential Election from a Mad Genius Criminal Mastermind. Who doesn’t like a colorful cast of characters and high stakes?
Second, you might point out to your targeted young reader that one of the book’s lessons is this: If ever presented with the opportunity to purchase a Heidelberg Handlebar Number Seven fake mustache along with a complimentary year’s supply of spirit gum from the Heidelberg Novelty Company, say no. Evil can lie in wait, even in an impressive mustache.
Third, mention that the story begins in Sven’s Fair Price Store, a place to “buy fake tattoos, fake noses, fake thumbs, fake eyelashes, fake tuxedo shirts, fake books that have secret compartments, fake laughter machines, fake fog makers, fake feet, fake teeth that you wind up, fake teeth that you stick in your mouth, fake gum that snaps people’s fingers, fake dog poop, [and] fake people poop.” (And fake mustaches.)
Fourth, even though not given in the above list of products, one of the story's heroes uses a Nasal Gun enabling him to shoot fake boogers out his nose. And it’s every bit as gross as it should be.
And finally, some reasons for the recommenders themselves. Beyond the absurdity and hilarity in the first four reasons, Fake Mustache contains grown-ups worthy of a Roald Dahl story, the action pace of an Alex Rider adventure, ordinary kids with extraordinary accomplishments, and a sequel-ready ending. Kids will love it.
By the title of the book, you can probably guess the featured Star Wars character in Tom Angleberger’s sequel to The Strange Case of Origami Yoda. If not (and because I think it’s awesome) here’s a clue. Cue the music!
On the first day of seventh grade, Harvey, the one person who maintains a deep-seeded, Dark Side hatred of Dwight’s Origami Yoda, arrives at school and announces, “Sorry, this isn’t the year for Paperwad Yoda.” Then as he sings “Bom bom bom bom-ba-bomb bom-ba-bomb” (see movie, above), he pulls out an origami Darth Vader from his pocket.
Darth Paper challenges Origami Yoda at every turn during the first month of school. But things take a turn for the worse when Origami Yoda says, “Zero hour comes. Prepare to meet your doom!” to a seventh grade girl. Dwight, of course, insists he didn’t say it. Origami Yoda did.
Unfortunately, those words make their way to the principal, and before the end of the day, Dwight is kicked out of school. On his way out of the building Dwight meets Tommy and holds up Origami Yoda who says, “The truth for the school board you must write. Another case file is needed.” So Tommy once again compiles stories and artifacts into a case file, this time meant to prove Dwight and Origami Yoda haven’t gone over to the Dark Side and to get them back into school.
Readers (and the school board) learn how Origami Yoda helped Kellen deal with an annoying brat at the skate park over the summer. They learn about Origami Yoda’s perfect non-video game solution to the stricter computer policy in the library. My favorite bit of wisdom comes when the class is supposed to sell cans of popcorn as a fundraiser. “Sell nothing you must,” says Origami Yoda. When Quavando offers to sell his grandmother nothing for $5 - half the price of a $10 tin of popcorn - she’s so happy to not get stuck with crappy popcorn that she buys $25 worth of nothing!
After the evidence is presented and the case file ends, Tommy and Kellen explain the rest of the story, including what happens at the school board meeting. Of course I’m not giving away the ending, but I will say the final chapter of Darth Paper Strikes Back is titled “A New Hope” and that Origami Yoda’s last quote, to delight of readers, is:
Imagine a typical middle school. It’s morning, before classes, in the library. Sixth graders congregate to finish homework and play on computers, but mostly they gather to talk. Boys tables, girls tables. Okay, now find the tables with the kids that don’t really fit any typical middle school stereotypes. Got it?
Now add an Origami Yoda, perched atop the index finger of one of the boys, offering sage advice to those who seek the wisdom of a Jedi master.
Yeah, I know. I had you until that last part. But trust me. It works.
Origami Yoda makes his first appearance at the April PTA Fun Night school dance when his advice, “Rush in fools do,” apparently saves Tommy from mortal embarrassment. (It involves a girl.) Origami Yoda’s next words of wisdom, “All of pants you must wet,” help Kellen make it to class on time without looking like he has an unfortunate stain on his khakis.
And that’s only the beginning. Origami Yoda also offers the students of McQuarrie Middle School the following tidbits:
“Let go of your feelings. Hate and revenge to the dark side only lead.”
“The Twist you must learn.”
“Stinks movie does.”
“Mulked learn to spell you must. Forget not the T.”
There’s more, all of them equally cryptic yet amazingly accurate. And Tommy, Kellen, Lance, Mike, Quavando (but not Kellen) and even some of the girls are eager to believe in Origami Yoda’s power. Except for one thing. Origami Yoda sits on Dwight’s finger, and his advice comes from Dwight’s mouth, albeit in a mediocre impression of Yoda’s actual voice.
Dwight is the guy who wipes up juice spills at the PTA Fun Night with his shirt - while he’s wearing it. He gets stuck in the P.E. closet and blames squirrels, wears the same shirt for a month, and once wore a cape and insisted everyone call him Captain Dwight. As Tommy, the boy compiling everyone’s Origami Yoda stories, says,
“You can never decide if [Dwight] does these things to be funny or if he’s just totally nuts. Nobody ever laughs WITH him, so how can he think he’s funny? But if he’s totally nuts, then how come he can have a normal conversation some days or fold origami or get straight A’s in math (but nothing else)?”
Author Tom Angleberger begins The Strange Case of Origami Yoda with a question: “Is Origami Yoda real?” Tommy and the rest of the friends each share their encounters as part of this case file and leave the final decision to the reader. Even Tommy isn’t completely convinced at the end, despite what may seem to be overwhelming evidence. You’ll have to make up your own mind, but let Origami Yoda’s words help.
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