I'd been resolutely avoiding this book ever since I was a child.

It was often recommended in the same breath as Where the Red Fern Grows, and although I could tell from the description of Bridge to Terabithia that I would probably like it, as a 9-(ish?)-year-old I'd been devastated by Where the Red Fern Grows and couldn't bear another nostalgic book of heartbreaking loss.

Fast-forward over a decade of successful book avoidance, and I'm watching the 2007 film adaptation in the theater and crying silently in my seat. I mean tears are flowing down my face unchecked as I watch. The story, the friendship between Leslie and Jess, is beautiful. So I knew I had to read it.

This is a great book, but honestly, the movie is great too. It's one of the few examples I'll hold up of a film version being every bit as good as the original book.

I think my daughter picked this to read with me just because she thinks it's funny that I'm a big cry baby.

5/5 stars

"

I haven't cried this hard when reading a book in years.

The movie got so much hype that I decided that I would read the book to my kids before letting them see the movie. I hate how so many movies are comming out about classic books. I personally feel it is discouraging kids to read. I understand that lots of movies are based on books, but it seems that a new trend is to make movies based on really popular books. Anyway, I wanted my kids to hear the book before seeing the movie. I actually wasn't impressed with this book at all. It moved pretty slowly and it didn't seem to make any good connections to make me really "feel". I would rate this a very much a childrens books. I am sure that kids that haven't been exposed to many deep books would love it. My kids were sort of interested. We ended up stopping the book before the end. I knew how it ended and knew that my kids wouldn't like the ending. My kids do know a good book when they hear it... we are currently reading "Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe" and they LOVE it!

Didn't cry. Didn't understand the hype behind this book.

There are only two books that have made me cry. Granted, I was in sixth grade when I read this for the first time. But like most books I review on Goodreads, I sat down to read this again before posting my review. My sentiments about Bridge to Terabithia haven't changed much.

I don't remember a lot from my pre-teen years. Little fragments crop up from time to time when I see an old commercial on Youtube or I play an 8-bit classic on my Wii. This book I remember. And as I re-read it I started recalling the circumstances that surrounded my initial reading of this book. I remember the girl I had a crush on who sat behind me in class. I remember growing my hair out and listening to Iron Maiden, experimenting with image, stripping away those last external indicators of child-like innocence and trying to be more "grown up." Then I remember crying in my closet near the end of this book.

Years later I have a career, a daughter, a wife. I still listen to Iron Maiden, but I don't wear the oversized metal shirts like I used to, and my hair is cut short most of the time. I don't have to try to be an adult anymore. What I was pushing back then I reflect on as an inevitable development now. Now I find myself retracing my steps, trying to go back to that time in my life, but like Rita Dove observes in her poem "Driving Through," it isn't always as easy or clear cut as we hope it to be. I'm a different person now, at least that's what I told myself when I started reading this book again a few years ago. How strange that sometimes drawing a connection between the person we were and the person we become happens inadvertently, at the most unexpected moments, when we spend half of our lives trying so hard to move forward and half of lives trying so hard to go back.

So there I sat, more than a decade later, with the same emotional reaction I had as a child telling me to stop reading, and nostalgia and the comforting memory of childhood ebbing me back towards youth.

I remember reading this when I was very young (thanks, Julie!). I couldn't remember particulars of the story, but the impact of the book never left me.

Currently in a re-reading phase, I was curious to see how I would feel about the book now.....more than 30 years after it was first published. To say that "it has stood the test of time" would be a disservice. And the impact? To borrow from @ericsmithrocks: "ugly crying".

Knowledge, in this case, was not power. It still felt like a punch-to-the-gut-from-out-of-nowhere. Sadness seeped into my soul and I sobbed.

Well done, Ms. Paterson. Well. Done.

Bridge to Terabithia is a staple of many middle school literary curriculums; however, it is one of the most challenged books in school systems across the country. Opponents of this book preposterously assert that it has references to witchcraft and Satanism. I read this book in 5th grade and gathered no references to the use of magic at all. The book involves two children having imaginary adventures in the imaginary land of Terabithia. Such imaginary games are common for children. Yet some assert that Katherine Patterson’s writing about such common activities is a reference to witchcraft. The book is an amazing piece of children’s literature and one of the only pieces from fifth and sixth grade a number of my peers remember reading. It stood out to us. We remembered it and used it to become better writers and thinkers. It helped us transition to more complex books. Educators and teachers should advocate strongly for this book to be read in class.
tPatterson instills into this book many important thematic elements of a great story in a manner that younger students will be able to identify with some thought on the book. Foreshadowing, character development, symbolism, and a clear connected thread and purpose are present throughout the whole story as Jess makes friends with the new girl Leslie, learns important lessons from her that help him to become more confident, and then is forced to say goodbye when she dies entering their imaginary land of Terabithia.
tTo an older reader, the foreshadowing of Leslie’s death is a little heavy-handed, but in no way poorly presented to a younger audience. “Sometimes it seemed to him that his life was as delicate as a dandelion. One little puff from any direction and it was blown to bits” (Paterson, 99). When May Belle becomes horrified of Leslie’s independent thoughts on the authenticity of the Bible, she exclaims, “What’s going to happen if you die?” (Paterson 109). Paterson makes the readers contemplate Leslie’s death briefly and insincerely several times before forcing them to do it for real. When she dies, they must revisit those thoughts they’d only touched on. “The Perkins place was one of those ratty old country houses you moved into because you had no decent place to go and moved out as quickly as you could” (Paterson 10). If the reader takes this passage seriously, they must know that the Burkes will leave Jess, in one way or another. After Leslie’s death the Burkes do leave. “No one ever stayed in the old Perkins place” (Paterson 161). As a result of this heavy foreshadowing, the books overall tone adopts one of reflection, as opposed to simple telling, a story that had to be told, that demanded to be told. Patterson’s accomplishment here is powerful to a child’s appreciation of literature and their ability to deceiver more complex literature later.
tAnother interesting literary event that young readers can benefit from analyzing is Jess’s evolution as a person, especially with regard to Terabithia’s changes.

It was Leslie who had taken him from the cow pasture into Terabithia and turned him into a king. He had thought that was it. Wasn’t king the best you could be? Now it occurred to him that perhaps Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn’t Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world-huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile?...Now it was time for him to move out (Paterson 160).

Jess is simply not the same person he was at the beginning of the book and what logically follows is that Terabithia is not the same place to him that it was. Concurrently, he must move out. A heavy handed indication of Jess’s transition occurs with his father near the entrance to Terabithia. His father begins, “‘Hell ain’t it?’ It was the kind of thing Jess could hear his father saying to another man. He found it strangely comforting, and it made him bold.” (Paterson 148). In the beginning, Jess’ father would barely speak a word to him. Jess relationship with his father has changed as well.
On the same note, children can benefit from seeing the method for entering Terabithia changing with Jess and with Terabithia’s significance to Jess. In the beginning, entering Terabithia involves a scary trip swinging across a river on a rope. In the end, Jess builds a bridge to Terabithia, changing one of its key characteristics and symbolizing the increased ease Jess has with accessing what he learned from Terabithia. In the end, Jess seeks to open Terabithia’s lessons to his younger sister, Joyce Ann. “And when he finished, he put flowers in [Joyce Ann’s] hair and led her across the bridge-the great bridge into Terabithia-which might look to someone with no magic in them like a few planks across a nearly dry gully…” Jess leads Joyce Ann into this kingdom of learning and evolution, a confident adolescent, just as the confident Leslie had done for him once. He has learned from Leslie, about himself and his insecurities, and about life, and can share these lessons with Joyce Ann.
tAlso valuable as classroom discussion is what parallels, if any, Leslie has with Jesus. Certainly a Christ archetype is present in many works and discussion of such can benefit students. As with so many literary elements, it is hard to say whether the author intended this parallel, but that idea is unimportant except to express it to the students. Leslie makes ambiguous comments at the beginning of the book about how she likes and dislikes the country. Jess is talking to her about her old home. “I really miss it.” She replies. “You must hate it here” (Patterson 41) he says. She says she does. “I wanted to come too” (Paterson 42) she says, talking of her parents’ decision to move. Her contradicting sentiments parallel Jesus’ experience in the garden of Gethsemane, where he asks god to save him from his impending crucifixion, but exclaims truly that he is glad to do it if it is God’s will. One could argue that her playing with the boys and running faster than them is analogous to Jesus’ miracles. Her challenging people’s interpretations of the Bible is another possible parallel. Also, Jess describes her arrival as “probably the biggest thing in his life” (Paterson 10). She dies as a result of coming, as a result of ultimately helping Jess transition from an insecure introspective adolescent into a more confident man. This is a weaker thematic element, and perhaps Paterson did not intend it, but its presence is something that may be discussed briefly in the classroom.
tSomeone unfamiliar with this book may think that these elements are too complex for younger readers; however, Paterson presents them expertly to a younger audience while engaging the students with a character they can relate to, Jess. He is constantly introspective, thinking not only about an issue, but on his thoughts on the issue too. He frequently wonders why he is thinking that way, leading him deeper and deeper into his mind. He has feelings for Ms. Edmund that he does not yet understand as well. The beginning of the book is hard focused on portraying Jess as having external suffering as well “Ever since he’d been in first grade he’d been that “ ‘crazy little kid that draws all the time’” (Paterson 4). The number of sentences used to portray this manner of suffering almost rivals his introspective lamentations, and establishes a character that many confused early adolescents can not help but identify with and cheer on. If this element commands girls’ attentions less, then Leslie’s charisma is more than enough to bridge the gap. The use of swear words helps to prevent children from resenting the book and closing their minds to it simply because children at that age are told not to swear. This book swears? Wow, that must be cool. I want to read on. And they do. And more importantly, they listen to what they are reading.
tBridge to Terabithia is not a book of separate literary elements, but rather elements that play beautifully and deftly together to create a complete literary work, one to help children transition to more complex literature and to make them think of new ideas. It should be staple of every early middle school English education regardless of objections that may be voiced against it. If this book is not on your child’s curriculum, it is worth your time to ask why and challenge such a decision. Afterwards, you and your child should read it together. You’ll both enjoy it.

Razones por las que me gustó este libro:
-Refleja dos maneras del trato hacia las infancias. Por un lado, la familia de Jess que lo subestima y lo enmarca en "lo que deben ser los niños", que es fría con él, pero que sin duda lo ama. Por otro lado, la familia de Leslie que es de "mente abierta", cálida, horizontal.
-Es la historia de una amistad que se forja a través de la escucha y la imaginación. Tanto Jess como Leslie pueden mirar otras perspectivas, se apoyan, confían, crecen juntos.
-Es contundente con el final. No hay manera de predecir el futuro y, a veces, las cosas tan simplemente suceden. Cómo afrontarlo, esta historia refleja una bellísima manera de cuidar de nosotros mismos ante hechos tan repentinos y tristes.

When I was at school, I was invisible, a girl with bushy hair with her nose in the books to be mocked and teased. Then I grew up to understand that it's good to be different, that blending in is not the only way out. I wish I understood it from the beginning.

n  As for the terrors ahead - for he did not fool himself that they were all behind him - well, you just have to stand up to your fear and not let it squeeze you white. Right, Leslie?
Right.n

This is one of the books that taught me that Books Can Hurt. It was part of what I now consider to be my fourth grade teacher's reign of terror - she read Where the Red Fern Grows and Bridge to Terabithia out loud to us (and those are just the books I was in her class for), and I seriously think she did it for the days when, inevitably, the entire class would spend the afternoon weeping at our desks.

That said, though - and it needed to be said - this is a good book; it was so engaging to me at that age that I got it from the library after the first day she read it to us and finished it by myself later that night. (Admittedly, this was not uncommon behavior for me. I did not like reading at other people's paces.) Of course, this meant I got to cry twice, and also spend the intervening time trying not to cry because I knew what was coming.

The characters are engaging. The story is memorable even 25 years later. But this is the book that taught me two important lessons: do not trust Katherine Paterson as far as you can see her, and do not trust fourth grade teachers, either.