The Watsons go to Birmingham -1963 was overall my favorite book of 2016. I just recently read the book in my seventh grade reading class. Personally I thought the novel was a eye-opening, heart-warming, page-turning book. The way the whole book was laid out was brilliant, all of the characters played such an important part in the novel. For example, Byron is a juvenile delinquent, but a softie at heart. In the book when Kenny, Joetta,and By went swimming Joey, and Byron listened to Grandma Sands, and stayed away from Collier’s Landing. Kenny, on the other hand, did not. Before Kenny went swimming Byron told Kenny, and Joetta this long story about Winnie the Poohs evil twin brother, the Wool Pooh. Once Kenny went swimming he got caught in the whirlpool. When Kenny got caught Byron came running after Kenny and jumped in after him. Under the water Kenny thought Byron was the Wool Pooh, and started trying to fight him off. Luckily, Byron was stronger Kenny and managed to pull him back up out of the water. When he did Byron was kissing Kennys head and thanking god that he got there in time. The chapter “I Meet Winnie's Evil Twin Brother, the Wool Pooh” is an amazing way to show how Byron and Kenny feel towards each other. Its also a great example to show how complex Byron's personality is.
I also loved how Christopher Paul Curtis came up with all of these family moments that not only brought them closer together but made YOU feel like YOU’RE in the book watching them!
The last thing i'm going to add on to my comment is that I would recommend this novel too other young kids my age. It’s an amazing book that you’ll never want to put down!
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The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963: A NovelKindle Edition
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During one of the most important times in the civil rights movement, one unforgettable family goes on a road trip in this Newbery and Coretta Scott King Honoree, from author Christopher Paul Curtis, recipient of the Coretta Scott King–Virginia Hamilton Award for Lifetime Achievement.
When the Watson family—ten-year-old Kenny, Momma, Dad, little sister Joetta, and brother Byron—sets out on a trip south to visit Grandma in Birmingham, Alabama, they don’t realize that they’re heading toward one of the darkest moments in America’s history. The Watsons’ journey reminds us that even in the hardest times, laughter and family can help us get through anything.
"A modern classic." —NPR
“Marvelous... both comic and deeply moving.”—The New York Times
"One of the best novels EVER." —Jacqueline Woodson,Newbery Honor and National Book Award–winning author ofBrown Girl Dreaming
When the Watson family—ten-year-old Kenny, Momma, Dad, little sister Joetta, and brother Byron—sets out on a trip south to visit Grandma in Birmingham, Alabama, they don’t realize that they’re heading toward one of the darkest moments in America’s history. The Watsons’ journey reminds us that even in the hardest times, laughter and family can help us get through anything.
"A modern classic." —NPR
“Marvelous... both comic and deeply moving.”—The New York Times
"One of the best novels EVER." —Jacqueline Woodson,Newbery Honor and National Book Award–winning author ofBrown Girl Dreaming
- LanguageEnglish
- Grade level3 - 7
- Lexile measure920L
- PublisherDelacorte Press
- Publication dateNovember 13, 2001
- ISBN-13978-0440414124
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What's it about?
A family road trip to Birmingham, Alabama during the civil rights movement becomes a life-changing experience for the Watson family.
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But I was kind of surprised that God would send a saver to me in such raggedy clothes.353 Kindle readers highlighted thisPopular highlight
She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox.348 Kindle readers highlighted this
From the Publisher
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Editorial Reviews
Amazon Review
The year is 1963, and self-important Byron Watson is the bane of his younger brother Kenny's existence. Constantly in trouble for one thing or another, from straightening his hair into a "conk" to lighting fires to freezing his lips to the mirror of the new family car, Byron finally pushes his family too far. Before this "official juvenile delinquent" can cut school or steal change one more time, Momma and Dad finally make good on their threat to send him to the deep south to spend the summer with his tiny, strict grandmother. Soon the whole family is packed up, ready to make the drive from Flint, Michigan, straight into one of the most chilling moments in America's history: the burning of the Sixteenth Avenue Baptist Church with four little girls inside.
Christopher Paul Curtis's alternately hilarious and deeply moving novel, winner of the Newbery Honor and the Coretta Scott King Honor, blends the fictional account of an African American family with the factual events of the violent summer of 1963. Fourth grader Kenny is an innocent and sincere narrator; his ingenuousness lends authenticity to the story and invites readers of all ages into his world, even as it changes before his eyes. Curtis is also the acclaimed author ofBud, Not Buddy,winner of the Newbery Medal. (Ages 9 to 12)--Emilie Coulter
From School Library Journal
Grade 5-8-In the only Newbery Honor book to make my list, the weighty issues and historical perspectives don't get in the way of a very funny family. Byron plays some awful tricks on his younger brother Kenny, but readers can't help but laugh at some of his less harmful teasing. He tells a convincing story to little sister Joey about how garbage trucks scoop up frozen Southern folks who don't dress warmly enough, and half-fools Kenny with his tall tale. While the boys supply many of the laughs, it's clear that they get their sense of humor from their dad. His gentle teasing and tongue-in-cheek exaggerations can be hilarious. Laughter and Tears Award: More than any other book on my list, the humor in The Watsons shifts to near tragedy and many thought-provoking developments. The serious stuff succeeds in part because readers grow so close to this family through the humor that comes earlier in the book.
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
FromBooklist
Gr. 4^-8. In a voice that's both smart and naive, strong and scared, fourth-grader Kenny Watson tells about his African American family in Flint, Michigan, in 1963. We get to know his strict, loving parents and his tough older brother, who gets into so much trouble his parents decide to take him back "home" to Birmingham, Alabama, where maybe his strong grandmother will teach him some sense. Several of the family stories are a bit self-conscious (we keep being told we're going to laugh as Dad puts on a show and acts the fool), but the relationships aren't idealized. Racism and the civil rights movement are like a soft rumble in the background, especially as the Watsons drive south. Then Kenny's cute little sister is in a Birmingham church when a bomb goes off. She escapes (Curtis doesn't exploit the horror), but we're with Kenny as he dreads that she's part of the rubble. In this compelling first novel, form and content are one: in the last few chapters, the affectionate situation comedy is suddenly transformed, and we see how racist terror can invade the shelter of home.Hazel Rochman
Review
AN ALA TOP TEN BEST BOOK
AN ALA NOTABLE CHILDREN'S BOOK
AN IRA YOUNG ADULT'S CHOICE
A NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW BEST BOOK
NAMED TO MULTIPLE STATE AWARD LISTS
"This is a book that changes lives. It certainly changed mine." --Kate DiCamillo, two-time Newbery Medalist
"I identify with so much in Christopher Paul Curtis's engrossing classic,The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963."--David Barclay Moore, winner of the Coretta Scott King John Steptoe Award for New Talent
"An exceptional first novel." —Publishers Weekly,starred review
"Superb... a warmly memorable evocation of an African American family." —The Horn Book Magazine,starred review
"Ribald humor... and a totally believable child's view of the world will make this book an instant hit." —School Library Journal,starred review
AN ALA NOTABLE CHILDREN'S BOOK
AN IRA YOUNG ADULT'S CHOICE
A NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW BEST BOOK
NAMED TO MULTIPLE STATE AWARD LISTS
"This is a book that changes lives. It certainly changed mine." --Kate DiCamillo, two-time Newbery Medalist
"I identify with so much in Christopher Paul Curtis's engrossing classic,The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963."--David Barclay Moore, winner of the Coretta Scott King John Steptoe Award for New Talent
"An exceptional first novel." —Publishers Weekly,starred review
"Superb... a warmly memorable evocation of an African American family." —The Horn Book Magazine,starred review
"Ribald humor... and a totally believable child's view of the world will make this book an instant hit." —School Library Journal,starred review
From the Publisher
Enter the hilarious world of 10-year-old Kenny and his family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. There's Momma, Dad, little sister Joetta, Kenny, and Byron, who's 13 and an official "juvenile delinquent." When Momma and Dad decide it's time for a visit to Grandma, Dad comes home with the amazing Ultra Glide, and the Watsons set out on a trip like no other. They're heading south. They're going to Birmingham, Alabama, toward one of the darkest moments in American history.
From the Inside Flap
A wonderful middle-grade novel narrated by Kenny, 9, about his middle-class black family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. When Kenny's 13-year-old brother, Byron, gets to be too much trouble, they head South to Birmingham to visit Grandma, the one person who can shape him up. And they happen to be in Birmingham when Grandma's church is blown up.
From the Back Cover
A wonderful middle-grade novel narrated by Kenny, 9, about his middle-class black family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan. When Kenny's 13-year-old brother, Byron, gets to be too much trouble, they head South to Birmingham to visit Grandma, the one person who can shape him up. And they happen to be in Birmingham when Grandma's church is blown up.
About the Author
Christopher Paul Curtis won the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Award for his bestselling second novel,Bud, Not Buddy.His first novel,The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963,was also singled out for many awards, and has been a bestseller in hardcover and paperback. His most recent novels for Random House includeThe Mighty Miss Malone, Mr. Chickee's Messy Mission, Mr. Chickee's Funny Money, and Bucking the Sarge.
Christopher Paul Curtis grew up in Flint, Michigan. After high school he began working on the assembly line at the Fisher Body Plant No. 1 while attending the Flint branch of the University of Michigan. He is now a full-time writer, and lives with his family in Windsor, Ontario.
Christopher Paul Curtis grew up in Flint, Michigan. After high school he began working on the assembly line at the Fisher Body Plant No. 1 while attending the Flint branch of the University of Michigan. He is now a full-time writer, and lives with his family in Windsor, Ontario.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
And You Wonder Why We Get Called the Weird Watsons
It was one of those super-duper-cold Saturdays. One of those days that when you breathed out your breath kind of hung frozen in the air like a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly like a train blowing out big, fat, white puffs of smoke.
It was so cold that if you were stupid enough to go outside your eyes would automatically blink a thousand times all by themselves, probably so the juice inside of them wouldn't freeze up. It was so cold that if you spit, the slob would be an ice cube before it hit the ground. It was about a zillion degrees below zero.
It was even cold inside our house. We put sweaters and hats and scarves and three pairs of socks on and still were cold. The thermostat was turned all the way up and the furnace was banging and sounding like it was about to blow up but it still felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us.
All of my family sat real close together on the couch under a blanket. Dad said this would generate a little heat but he didn't have to tell us this, it seemed like the cold automatically made us want to get together and huddle up. My little sister, Joetta, sat in the middle and all you could see were her eyes because she had a scarf wrapped around her head. I was next to her and on the outside was my mother.
Momma was the only one who wasn't born in Flint so the cold was coldest to her. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled next to Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron.
Byron had just turned thirteen so he was officially a teenage juvenile delinquent and didn't think it was "cool" to touch anybody or let anybody touch him, even if it meant he froze to death. Byron had tucked the blanket between him and Dad down into the cushion of the couch to make sure he couldn't be touched.
Dad turned on the TV to try to make us forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in trouble. There was a special news report on Channel 12 telling how bad the weather was and Dad groaned when the guy said, "If you think it's cold now, wait until tonight, the temperature is expected to drop into record-low territory, possibly reaching the negative twenties! In fact, we won't be seeing anything above zero for the next four to five days!" He was smiling when he said this but none of the Watson family thought it was funny. We all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his eyes.
Then the guy on the TV said, "Here's a little something we can use to brighten our spirits and give us some hope for the future: The temperature in Atlanta, Georgia is forecast to reach..." Dad coughed real loud and jumped off the couch to turn the TV off but we all heard the weatherman say, "... the mid-seventies!" The guy might as well have tied Dad to a tree and said, "Ready, aim, fire!"
"Atlanta!" Momma said. "That's a hundred and fifty miles from home!"
"Wilona...," Dad said.
"I knew it," Momma said. "I knew I should have listened to Moses Henderson!"
"Who?" I asked.
Dad said, "Oh Lord, not that sorry story. You've got to let me tell about what happened with him."
Momma said, "There's not a whole lot to tell, just a story about a young girl who made a bad choice. But if you do tell it, make sure you get all the facts right."
We all huddled as close as we could get because we knew Dad was going to try to make us forget about being cold by cutting up. Me and Joey started smiling right away, and Byron tried to look cool and bored.
"Kids," Dad said, "I almost wasn't your father. You guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson...."
"Daniel Watson, you stop right there. You're the one who started that 'Hambone' nonsense. Before you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. And he was a respectable boy too, he wasn't a clown at all."
"But the name stuck didn't it? Hambone Henderson. Me and your granddaddy called him that because the boy had a head shaped like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his head than a dinosaur. So as you guys sit here giving me these dirty looks because it's a little chilly outside ask yourselves if you'd rather be a little cold or go through life being known as the Hambonettes."
Me and Joey cracked up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her hand over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a great big gap between her front teeth. If Momma thought something was funny, first you'd see her trying to keep her lips together to hide the gap, then, if the smile got to be too strong, you'd see the gap for a hot second before Momma's hand would come up to cover it, then she'd crack up too.
Laughing only encouraged Dad to cut up more, so when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a show.
He stood up in front of the TV. "Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Fought dirty too, told your momma a pack of lies about me and when she didn't believe them he told her a pack of lies about Flint."
Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. "Wilona, I heard tell about the weather up that far north in Flint, Mitch-again, heard it's colder than inside an icebox. Seen a movie about it, think it was made in Flint. Movie calledNanook of the North.Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again. "
"Folks there live in these things called igloos. According to what I seen in this here movie most folks in Flint is Chinese. Don't believe I seem nan one colored person in the whole dang city. You a 'Bama gal, don't believe you'd be too happy living in no igloo. Ain't got nothing against 'em, but don't believe you'd be too happy living 'mongst a whole slew of Chinese folks. Don't believe you'd like the food. Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Don't believe you'd like no whale meat. Don't taste a lick like chicken. Don't taste like pork at all."
Momma pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Daniel Watson, you are one lying man! Only thing you said that was true was that being in Flint is like living in an igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. Maybe these babies mighta been born with lumpy heads but at least they'da hadwarmlumpy heads!
"You know Birmingham is a good place, and I don't mean the weather either. The life is slower, the people are friendlier--"
"Oh yeah," Dad interrupted, "they're a laugh a minute down there. Let's see, where was that 'Coloreds Only' bathroom downtown?"
"Daniel, you know what I mean, things aren't perfect but people are more honest about the way they feel" --she took her mean eyes off Dad and put them on Byron-- "and folks there do know how to respect their parents."
Byron rolled his eyes like he didn't care. All he did was tuck the blanket farther into the couch's cushion.
Dad didn't like the direction the conversation was going so he called the landlord for the hundredth time. The phone was still busy.
"That snake in the grass has got his phone off the hook. Well, it's going to be too cold to stay here tonight, let me call Cydney. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the night there." Aunt Cydney was kind of mean but her house was always warm so we kept our fingers crossed that she was home.
Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death.
Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started. That was what we called our car. It was a 1948 Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brown. Uncle Bud gave it to Dad when it was thirteen years old and we'd had it for two years. Me and Dad took real good care of it but some of the time it didn't like to start up in the winter.
After five minutes Dad came back in huffing and puffing and slapping his arms across his chest.
"Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again!" Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit cheering and started frowning right away. By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, "O.K., boys, let's get out there and knock those windows out."
We moaned and groaned and put some more coats on and went outside to scrape the car's windows. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to try and get out of doing his share of he work.
"I'm not going to do your part, Byron, you'd better do it and I'm not playing either."
"Shut up, punk."
I went over to the Brown Bomber's passenger side and started hacking away at the scab of ice that was all over the windows. I finished Momma's window and took a break. Scraping ice off of windows when it's that cold can kill you!
I didn't hear any sound coming from the other side of the car so I yelled out, "I'm serious, Byron, I'm not doing that side too, and I'm only going to do half the windshield, I don't care what you do to me." The windshield on the Bomber wasn't like the new 1963 cars, it had a big bar running down the middle of it, dividing it in half.
"Shut your stupid mouth, I got something more important to do right now."
I peeked around the back of the car to see what By was up to. The only thing he'd scraped off was the outside mirror and he was bending down to look at himself in it. He saw me and said, "You know what, square? I must be adopted, there just ain't no way two folks as ugly as your momma and daddy coulda give birth to someone as sharp as me!"
He was running his hands over his head like he was brushing his hair.
I said, "Forget you," and went back over to the other side of the car to finish the back window. I had half of the ice off when I had to stop again and catch my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name.
I said, "You think I'm stupid? It's not going to work this time." He mumbled my name again. It sounded like his mouth was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Two.
How to Survive a Blizzard, Part One had been last night when I was outside playing in the snow and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking by. Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent even longer than Byron.
"Say, kid," By had said, "you wanna learn somethin' that might save your stupid life one day?"
I should have known better, but I was bored and I think maybe the cold weather was making my brain slow, so I said, "What's that?"
"We gonna teach you how to survive a blizzard."
"How?"
Byron put his hands in front of his face and said "This is the most important thing to remember, O.K.?"
"Why?"
"Well, first we gotta show you what it feels like to be trapped in a blizzard. You ready?" He whispered something to Buphead and they both laughed.
"I'm ready."
I should have known that the only reason Buphead and By would want to play with me was to do something mean.
"O.K.," By said, "first thing you gotta worry about is high winds."
Byron and Buphead each grabbed one of my arms and one of my legs and swung me between them going, "Woo,blizzard warnings! Blizzard warnings!Wooo!Take cover! "
Buphead counted to three and on the third swing they let me go in the air. I landed headfirst in a snowbank.
But that was O.K. because I had on three coats, two sweaters, a T-shirt, three pairs of pants and four socks along with a scarf, a hat and a hood. These guys couldn't have hurt me if they'd thrown me off the Empire State Building!'
After I climbed out of the snowbank they started laughing and so did I.
"Cool, Baby Bruh," By said, "you passed that part of the test with a B-plus, what you think, Buphead?"
Buphead said, "Yeah, I'd give the little punk a A."
They whispered some more and started laughing again.
"O.K.," By said, "second thing you gotta learn is how to keep your balance in a high wind. You gotta be good at this so you don't get blowed into no polar bear dens."
They put me in between them and started making me spin round and round, it seemed like they spun me for about half an hour. When slob started flying out of my mouth they let me stop and I wobbled around for a while before they pushed me back in the same snow-bank.
When everything stopped going in circles I got up and we all laughed again.
They whispered some more and then By said, "What you think, Buphead? He kept his balance a good long time, I'm gonna give him a A-minus."
"I ain't as hard a grader as you, I'ma give the little punk a double A-minus."
"O.K., Kenny now the last part of Surviving a Blizzard, you ready?"
"Yup!"
"You passed the wind test and did real good on the balance test but now we gotta see if you ready to graduate. You remember what we told you was the most important part about survivin'?"
"Yup!"
"O.K., here we go. Buphead, tell him 'bout the final exam."
It was one of those super-duper-cold Saturdays. One of those days that when you breathed out your breath kind of hung frozen in the air like a hunk of smoke and you could walk along and look exactly like a train blowing out big, fat, white puffs of smoke.
It was so cold that if you were stupid enough to go outside your eyes would automatically blink a thousand times all by themselves, probably so the juice inside of them wouldn't freeze up. It was so cold that if you spit, the slob would be an ice cube before it hit the ground. It was about a zillion degrees below zero.
It was even cold inside our house. We put sweaters and hats and scarves and three pairs of socks on and still were cold. The thermostat was turned all the way up and the furnace was banging and sounding like it was about to blow up but it still felt like Jack Frost had moved in with us.
All of my family sat real close together on the couch under a blanket. Dad said this would generate a little heat but he didn't have to tell us this, it seemed like the cold automatically made us want to get together and huddle up. My little sister, Joetta, sat in the middle and all you could see were her eyes because she had a scarf wrapped around her head. I was next to her and on the outside was my mother.
Momma was the only one who wasn't born in Flint so the cold was coldest to her. All you could see were her eyes too, and they were shooting bad looks at Dad. She always blamed him for bringing her all the way from Alabama to Michigan, a state she called a giant icebox. Dad was bundled next to Joey, trying to look at anything but Momma. Next to Dad, sitting with a little space between them, was my older brother, Byron.
Byron had just turned thirteen so he was officially a teenage juvenile delinquent and didn't think it was "cool" to touch anybody or let anybody touch him, even if it meant he froze to death. Byron had tucked the blanket between him and Dad down into the cushion of the couch to make sure he couldn't be touched.
Dad turned on the TV to try to make us forget how cold we were but all that did was get him in trouble. There was a special news report on Channel 12 telling how bad the weather was and Dad groaned when the guy said, "If you think it's cold now, wait until tonight, the temperature is expected to drop into record-low territory, possibly reaching the negative twenties! In fact, we won't be seeing anything above zero for the next four to five days!" He was smiling when he said this but none of the Watson family thought it was funny. We all looked over at Dad. He just shook his head and pulled the blanket over his eyes.
Then the guy on the TV said, "Here's a little something we can use to brighten our spirits and give us some hope for the future: The temperature in Atlanta, Georgia is forecast to reach..." Dad coughed real loud and jumped off the couch to turn the TV off but we all heard the weatherman say, "... the mid-seventies!" The guy might as well have tied Dad to a tree and said, "Ready, aim, fire!"
"Atlanta!" Momma said. "That's a hundred and fifty miles from home!"
"Wilona...," Dad said.
"I knew it," Momma said. "I knew I should have listened to Moses Henderson!"
"Who?" I asked.
Dad said, "Oh Lord, not that sorry story. You've got to let me tell about what happened with him."
Momma said, "There's not a whole lot to tell, just a story about a young girl who made a bad choice. But if you do tell it, make sure you get all the facts right."
We all huddled as close as we could get because we knew Dad was going to try to make us forget about being cold by cutting up. Me and Joey started smiling right away, and Byron tried to look cool and bored.
"Kids," Dad said, "I almost wasn't your father. You guys came real close to having a clown for a daddy named Hambone Henderson...."
"Daniel Watson, you stop right there. You're the one who started that 'Hambone' nonsense. Before you started that everyone called him his Christian name, Moses. And he was a respectable boy too, he wasn't a clown at all."
"But the name stuck didn't it? Hambone Henderson. Me and your granddaddy called him that because the boy had a head shaped like a hambone, had more knots and bumps on his head than a dinosaur. So as you guys sit here giving me these dirty looks because it's a little chilly outside ask yourselves if you'd rather be a little cold or go through life being known as the Hambonettes."
Me and Joey cracked up, Byron kind of chuckled and Momma put her hand over her mouth. She did this whenever she was going to give a smile because she had a great big gap between her front teeth. If Momma thought something was funny, first you'd see her trying to keep her lips together to hide the gap, then, if the smile got to be too strong, you'd see the gap for a hot second before Momma's hand would come up to cover it, then she'd crack up too.
Laughing only encouraged Dad to cut up more, so when he saw the whole family thinking he was funny he really started putting on a show.
He stood up in front of the TV. "Yup, Hambone Henderson proposed to your mother around the same time I did. Fought dirty too, told your momma a pack of lies about me and when she didn't believe them he told her a pack of lies about Flint."
Dad started talking Southern-style, imitating this Hambone guy. "Wilona, I heard tell about the weather up that far north in Flint, Mitch-again, heard it's colder than inside an icebox. Seen a movie about it, think it was made in Flint. Movie calledNanook of the North.Yup, do believe for sure it was made in Flint. Uh-huh, Flint, Mitch-again. "
"Folks there live in these things called igloos. According to what I seen in this here movie most folks in Flint is Chinese. Don't believe I seem nan one colored person in the whole dang city. You a 'Bama gal, don't believe you'd be too happy living in no igloo. Ain't got nothing against 'em, but don't believe you'd be too happy living 'mongst a whole slew of Chinese folks. Don't believe you'd like the food. Only thing them Chinese folks in that movie et was whales and seals. Don't believe you'd like no whale meat. Don't taste a lick like chicken. Don't taste like pork at all."
Momma pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Daniel Watson, you are one lying man! Only thing you said that was true was that being in Flint is like living in an igloo. I knew I should have listened to Moses. Maybe these babies mighta been born with lumpy heads but at least they'da hadwarmlumpy heads!
"You know Birmingham is a good place, and I don't mean the weather either. The life is slower, the people are friendlier--"
"Oh yeah," Dad interrupted, "they're a laugh a minute down there. Let's see, where was that 'Coloreds Only' bathroom downtown?"
"Daniel, you know what I mean, things aren't perfect but people are more honest about the way they feel" --she took her mean eyes off Dad and put them on Byron-- "and folks there do know how to respect their parents."
Byron rolled his eyes like he didn't care. All he did was tuck the blanket farther into the couch's cushion.
Dad didn't like the direction the conversation was going so he called the landlord for the hundredth time. The phone was still busy.
"That snake in the grass has got his phone off the hook. Well, it's going to be too cold to stay here tonight, let me call Cydney. She just had that new furnace put in, maybe we can spend the night there." Aunt Cydney was kind of mean but her house was always warm so we kept our fingers crossed that she was home.
Everyone, even Byron, cheered when Dad got Aunt Cydney and she told us to hurry over before we froze to death.
Dad went out to try and get the Brown Bomber started. That was what we called our car. It was a 1948 Plymouth that was dull brown and real big, Byron said it was turd brown. Uncle Bud gave it to Dad when it was thirteen years old and we'd had it for two years. Me and Dad took real good care of it but some of the time it didn't like to start up in the winter.
After five minutes Dad came back in huffing and puffing and slapping his arms across his chest.
"Well, it was touch and go for a while, but the Great Brown One pulled through again!" Everyone cheered, but me and Byron quit cheering and started frowning right away. By the way Dad smiled at us we knew what was coming next. Dad pulled two ice scrapers out of his pocket and said, "O.K., boys, let's get out there and knock those windows out."
We moaned and groaned and put some more coats on and went outside to scrape the car's windows. I could tell by the way he was pouting that Byron was going to try and get out of doing his share of he work.
"I'm not going to do your part, Byron, you'd better do it and I'm not playing either."
"Shut up, punk."
I went over to the Brown Bomber's passenger side and started hacking away at the scab of ice that was all over the windows. I finished Momma's window and took a break. Scraping ice off of windows when it's that cold can kill you!
I didn't hear any sound coming from the other side of the car so I yelled out, "I'm serious, Byron, I'm not doing that side too, and I'm only going to do half the windshield, I don't care what you do to me." The windshield on the Bomber wasn't like the new 1963 cars, it had a big bar running down the middle of it, dividing it in half.
"Shut your stupid mouth, I got something more important to do right now."
I peeked around the back of the car to see what By was up to. The only thing he'd scraped off was the outside mirror and he was bending down to look at himself in it. He saw me and said, "You know what, square? I must be adopted, there just ain't no way two folks as ugly as your momma and daddy coulda give birth to someone as sharp as me!"
He was running his hands over his head like he was brushing his hair.
I said, "Forget you," and went back over to the other side of the car to finish the back window. I had half of the ice off when I had to stop again and catch my breath. I heard Byron mumble my name.
I said, "You think I'm stupid? It's not going to work this time." He mumbled my name again. It sounded like his mouth was full of something. I knew this was a trick, I knew this was going to be How to Survive a Blizzard, Part Two.
How to Survive a Blizzard, Part One had been last night when I was outside playing in the snow and Byron and his running buddy, Buphead, came walking by. Buphead has officially been a juvenile delinquent even longer than Byron.
"Say, kid," By had said, "you wanna learn somethin' that might save your stupid life one day?"
I should have known better, but I was bored and I think maybe the cold weather was making my brain slow, so I said, "What's that?"
"We gonna teach you how to survive a blizzard."
"How?"
Byron put his hands in front of his face and said "This is the most important thing to remember, O.K.?"
"Why?"
"Well, first we gotta show you what it feels like to be trapped in a blizzard. You ready?" He whispered something to Buphead and they both laughed.
"I'm ready."
I should have known that the only reason Buphead and By would want to play with me was to do something mean.
"O.K.," By said, "first thing you gotta worry about is high winds."
Byron and Buphead each grabbed one of my arms and one of my legs and swung me between them going, "Woo,blizzard warnings! Blizzard warnings!Wooo!Take cover! "
Buphead counted to three and on the third swing they let me go in the air. I landed headfirst in a snowbank.
But that was O.K. because I had on three coats, two sweaters, a T-shirt, three pairs of pants and four socks along with a scarf, a hat and a hood. These guys couldn't have hurt me if they'd thrown me off the Empire State Building!'
After I climbed out of the snowbank they started laughing and so did I.
"Cool, Baby Bruh," By said, "you passed that part of the test with a B-plus, what you think, Buphead?"
Buphead said, "Yeah, I'd give the little punk a A."
They whispered some more and started laughing again.
"O.K.," By said, "second thing you gotta learn is how to keep your balance in a high wind. You gotta be good at this so you don't get blowed into no polar bear dens."
They put me in between them and started making me spin round and round, it seemed like they spun me for about half an hour. When slob started flying out of my mouth they let me stop and I wobbled around for a while before they pushed me back in the same snow-bank.
When everything stopped going in circles I got up and we all laughed again.
They whispered some more and then By said, "What you think, Buphead? He kept his balance a good long time, I'm gonna give him a A-minus."
"I ain't as hard a grader as you, I'ma give the little punk a double A-minus."
"O.K., Kenny now the last part of Surviving a Blizzard, you ready?"
"Yup!"
"You passed the wind test and did real good on the balance test but now we gotta see if you ready to graduate. You remember what we told you was the most important part about survivin'?"
"Yup!"
"O.K., here we go. Buphead, tell him 'bout the final exam."
FromAudioFile
Written in 1995, Christopher Paul Curtis captures the Watson family in 1963 as a timepiece. Curtis's story is a strong one with humor, tragedy and family life finely interwoven. Portraying the African-American family living in Flint, Michigan, Levar Burton needs to recreate an era more than 30 years ago. Burton doesn't quite manage to make us believe this is a family of the '60's. The epilogue directed to a young audience has an important message for listeners putting the story of the Watsons in historic perspective. R.F.W. (c)AudioFile, Portland, Maine
Product details
- ASIN : B000FC1KWU
- Publisher : Delacorte Press (November 13, 2001)
- Publication date : November 13, 2001
- Language : English
- File size : 10748 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 224 pages
- Best Sellers Rank:#228,939 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- Customer Reviews:
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Photo © 2003 James Keyser
author spotlight
"To me the highest accolade comes when a young reader tells me, 'I really liked your book.' The young seem to be able to say 'really' with a clarity, a faith, and an honesty that we as adults have long forgotten. That is why I write." --Christopher Paul Curtis
Christopher Paul Curtis made an outstanding debut in children's literature with The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963. His second novel, Bud, Not Buddy, is the first book ever to receive both the Newbery Medal and the Coretta Scott King Author Award.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Flint, Michigan, Christopher Paul Curtis spent his first 13 years after high school on the assembly line of Flint's historic Fisher Body Plant # 1. His job entailed hanging car doors, and it left him with an aversion to getting into and out of large automobiles--particularly big Buicks.
With grandfathers like Earl "Lefty" Lewis, a Negro Baseball League pitcher, and 1930s bandleader Herman E. Curtis, Sr., of Herman Curtis and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression, it is easy to see why Christopher Paul Curtis was destined to become an entertainer.
The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 tells the story of 10-year-old Kenny and his family, the Weird Watsons of Flint, Michigan, and their unforgettable journey that leads them into one of the darkest moments in American history. It is by turns a hilarious, touching, and tragic story about civil rights and the impact of violence on one family.
Curtis's novel Bud, Not Buddy focuses on 10-year-old Bud Caldwell, who hits the road in search of his father and his home. Times may be hard in 1936 Flint, Michigan, but orphaned Bud's got a few things going for him; he believes his mother left a clue of who his father was--and nothing can stop Bud from trying to find him.
Customer reviews
4.7 out of 5 stars
4.7 out of 5
5,690 global ratings
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5 Stars
Good Book!
The size of the book was good, also the color of the fount wasn’t super light nor super dark. There wasn’t any ripped pages, and overall it is a good book!
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Reviewed in the United States on January 5, 2017
Reviewed in the United States on June 16, 2024
Great Book for summer reading.
Reviewed in the United States on April 5, 2024
My 11 year old male cousin Love it because it has his last name Watson
Reviewed in the United States on March 9, 2013
My 8 year old and I listened to this audio book. It's told from the perspective of a boy about my son's age. There are some too silly parts, like an older brother who gets his tongue stuck on a frozen rear view mirror, and installing a record player in a car. Both seem unrealistic to me. There are also some "older brother's language" issues (cussing or referring to cussing), and references to the middle finger salute, which I could have done without. The mother threatens to burn the older brother who is caught playing with matches again.
Otherwise the family is likable and the story held our interest. When the older brother is getting into too much trouble the parents plan a trip to Birmingham Alabama, where they plan to leave him with Grandma. When they get there things don't seem the same as the old days growing up there. Desegregation is causing hostilities and violence which the family has to deal with. This part of the story is handled in an unusual way. We see things thru the eyes of a young boy who has some life threatening experiences and we experience some of his delusions, fear and grief he feels. In the end the big brother who was a problem earlier now feels compassion and concern for his little brother and helps him deal with his feelings. So some parts are not so great, but then maybe life is like that. We see some of the less appealing parts of this family and end up loving them anyway. I still recommend it.
Otherwise the family is likable and the story held our interest. When the older brother is getting into too much trouble the parents plan a trip to Birmingham Alabama, where they plan to leave him with Grandma. When they get there things don't seem the same as the old days growing up there. Desegregation is causing hostilities and violence which the family has to deal with. This part of the story is handled in an unusual way. We see things thru the eyes of a young boy who has some life threatening experiences and we experience some of his delusions, fear and grief he feels. In the end the big brother who was a problem earlier now feels compassion and concern for his little brother and helps him deal with his feelings. So some parts are not so great, but then maybe life is like that. We see some of the less appealing parts of this family and end up loving them anyway. I still recommend it.
Reviewed in the United States on March 19, 2024
This was an assigned book for school, and my daughter loved it.
Reviewed in the United States on October 13, 2011
This is the only other novel I have read by Curtis and I enjoyed it even more than Bud, Not Buddy. I did not have to read this one in school so I had to track it down myself. I remember listening to the audio version at age eleven or twelve and loving the Watsons and all of their random adventures. The first incident, the one where the elder brother gets his lips stuck to a car mirror in winter because he was kissing his reflection, is one of my favorite moments in fiction so far. The brothers throwing cookies at birds, or eating them until they are sick is easily remembered as well. Even the scenes about school back in the early 60s and the cruelty of kids to those less fortunate was brilliantly done. The last third of the book becomes much more serious with the church bombing, however, and only now that I'm a little older can I appreciate the genius in that. When I was young I didn't really understand the significance of that section of the book and the only thing I remember really enjoying was the "whirlpool" scene which gave me chills. Later, the way the author made everything in this book work and still made it something that anyone can enjoy floors me. Brilliant novel. Absolutely brilliant and I recommend it to all those who didn't already have to read it.
Reviewed in the United States on December 9, 2014
I do not know why people are giving this book anything less than 5 stars- I can see how byrons language could bother some people but seriously get over it. It is what life is like, sometimes people curse. I think it is excusable because the book teaches SO many valuable lessons not only about black history but also about racism today. Christopher Paul Curtis is a superb author and I think this is his best book yet. And by the way for all of those 5th grade teachers complaining about language, just don't read it! Very simple!you guys don't understand the point of the whole book, I doubt CPC sat down to write this and thought "well I'm going to make people flip out about the language" no he didn't he is just writing a book. It is a very good book and the stories are excellent I wish people could focus on that instead of a couple seminar words in there.
Top reviews from other countries
Parveen Sirohi
5.0 out of 5 stars
We loved it.!!!!
Reviewed in India on October 26, 2018
I read this book with my kid, what a amusing, engaging read it was... and what nuggets of wisdom strewn all over the book.. We are going to miss the Watson's for sure...
One person found this helpful
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Moon Star
5.0 out of 5 stars
So borrowed it from him and i think it a great read also
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on March 5, 2016
I bought this book for my son to read and he could not put it down. He read it twice. So borrowed it from him and i think it a great read also.
One person found this helpful
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NLM
5.0 out of 5 stars
Excellent!
Reviewed in France on February 14, 2016
It is so hard to find a good book for young readers. My son is 12 and he does like stories about orphans or monsters. This is the story about a nice family that looks like many other nice families (the tough oldest son included). However, the scene takes place in 1963, and bad things were happening in Birmingham in 1963. The book is nonetheless full of humor. It is extremely well written, with lots of dialogues and situations that are very well captured. My son and I had a good laugh together even if at the climax we didn't want to laugh anymore. A must be read book! Excellent!
Dacia
5.0 out of 5 stars
Good book
Reviewed in Canada on December 28, 2013
It is a good book. I wonder if the wool pooh was or is real. I feel sorry for Kenny.
Dame78
5.0 out of 5 stars
Très bien
Reviewed in France on July 31, 2018
Livre acheté par obligation pour les cours d'anglais, et finalement il s'est révélé une bonne surprise: beaucoup d'humour, de style, on ne tombe pas dans le pathos, la fin est émouvante. Recommandé à plusieurs personnes. Par contre il faut un assez bon niveau d'anglais pour comprendre certaines expressions qui reproduisent l'accent du Sud (pas du niveau collège, plutôt lycée).
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