Inventive, imaginative, and a lot of fun to read. The story of a girl and her brother who run away...to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY City. A very charming book. Makes one yearn for a visit to the Met or any museum, preferably a behind the scenes one! And it contains seemingly helpful instructions on how to sucessfully run away. ;-)

Would you believe we actually read this children's book as one of our library book discussion selections? Can you imagine a bunch of adults sitting around a table dissecting this one? Seriously, it was an amazing discussion pick - and I recommend considering this for an adult book discussion group. In fact, I would suggest looking at various YA novels, as well. Don't limit yourselves to just adult best seller picks. Children's books have a lot of great learning and educable moments within that make for great discussion experiences.

On to my review for Goodreads.

This is the story of Claudia and her brother Jamie who are in a sense, two runaways, kind of, who become involved in an art-historical mystery. Where do they runaway to: The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

The first paragraph sets the stage when the first sentence says it all:

"Claudia knew that she could never pull off the old-fashioned kind of running away."

Even the second sentence is telling us how logical minded she is that she can't fall back on anger or a simple knapsack on her back. She knew that she couldn't run from somewhere, she needed to run to somewhere. A big difference in thinking. And this is the true adventure of the story.

Amazingly, they spend a week in hiding at the Met. In reality, we can't even imagine in today's world that ever happening. Security is too vast. But for us as readers, we get to experience their awe of the art world, their baths in the "pool." How they scrounge around for food in the closed restaurant, utilizing the public bathrooms to clean oneself, which adds to the joy of their runaway experience.

The story is light-hearted. It gives us moments to pause at the children's independence. And certainly our feelings as adult readers as witnesses to it. And how many wouldn't want to be set free in a museum unbounded for days at a time? Sort of magical, yes?

But...Is it realistic? Of course not. But, set that aside, and just go with it. For adults, discussing it, we realized this was a story long before the Amber Alert. And in today's world, we would probably have been on the edge of hysterical about our lost kids.

So...Putting all that aside, when this book was written (1967)...this was a different time, place, and world view. We could appreciate it for that.

Cute story of a brother and sister running away from home and hiding out for days at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC. They get caught up in a mystery involving one of the statues. Fun read, but not my fave.

For his autumnal yet incandescent family tragicomedy, The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson drew inspiration from a handful of literary works remarkably possessed of whimsy and insightful wit. Chief among these is the late J. D. Salinger’s short but utterly perceptive book, Franny and Zooey, whose title characters are members of the Glass family, the basis for the dysfunctional Tenenbaums in Anderson’s film. The eccentric director, drawing further attention to his enchantment with Salinger’s fictional family, even went so far as to pattern a quirk of one of the central characters in The Royal Tenenbaums after a scene in Franny and Zooey, where Zooey, the male protagonist, spends an inordinate stretch of time in a bathtub. Anderson did the same, that is, cutting out a scene from a beloved book and stitching it into his film, to the 1968 Newbery Medal-winning novel by E. L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. In a brief episode of childhood rebellion in Anderson’s film, two of the Tenenbaum siblings run away from home and live in, of all places, a museum. They must have read Konigsburg’s novel--Anderson has, certainly--for that’s exactly what Claudia and Jamie Kincaid, the leads in From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, did.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (hereafter referred to simply as Mixed-Up Files, despite the book’s delightful roller-coaster of a title) is narrated with a quaint sense of humor by a wealthy old lady named Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Mrs. Frankweiler’s purportedly true story sets off when Claudia, fed up with being unfairly treated in the Kincaid household in Greenwich, Connecticut, and tired of "the monotony of everything" decides to teach her parents “a lesson in Claudia appreciation” by running away from home. Considering her very low tolerance for discomfort, she chooses the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City as her hideaway, and considering her very low supply of money, she persuades her penny-pinching brother, Jamie, to join her.

With the snazzy art museum as their home-cum-playground, sister and brother make the most out of their newfound freedom, and Konigsburg, via Mrs. Frankweiler, seems to make the experience of being away from the safety and convenience afforded by home a tad too easy and pleasant for her protagonists, who attempt to live on less than twenty-five dollars and a few sets of clothes for God knows how long in the Met, an otherwise comfortable dwelling place. They hide in the bathrooms at opening and closing time to evade the museum personnel, sleep in ancient canopy beds while pretending to be 16th-century monarchs, bathe in the restaurant fountain while picking up wish coins to add to their dwindling funds, and mingle with visitors for their daily dose of art history. But these aren’t small plot conveniences so much as products of the complementary nature of Claudia and Jamie’s individual strengths: most notably, she’s excellent at planning while he’s good at (not) spending. And so, even as they bicker mildly about mostly trivial matters, they become thick as thieves.

“The greatest adventure of our mutual lives,” as Claudia enticingly described their stint as truants and runaways when she was just trying to enlist Jamie, becomes just that when they stumble upon a mystery surrounding the museum’s latest acquisition, a statue of an angel believed to be the handiwork of none other than Michelangelo Buonarroti. Claudia and Jamie, as inquisitive and ingenious as any kids of their age (he’s nine years old; she’s “one month away from being 12”) would dare to be, and seeing that they’re right where the object mired in mystery is, sets out to uncover the angel’s secret, if any.

This is no The Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons for kids, thank you very much. In this little book where most of the events, big and small, also happen in a famous museum and an Italian Renaissance man also gets plunged into the story, there’s no room for bloated conspiracy theories and cheap thrills. In the first place, they’re not what you’d expect from a sophisticated narrator like Mrs. Frankweiler, who at old age has amassed great wisdom and a great deal of items for her art collection besides, as a newspaper article Claude and Jamie chance upon states and as the proud octogenarian herself boasts around the time she finally enters the story as a supporting but not insignificant character (while retaining her role as narrator, of course).

What we’re treated to instead is a charming and smartly plotted novel that at first blush seems focused on the excitement of being a defiant and carefree youth and later appears entangled in the revelations, impressive in spite of their scant amount, hatched by the pair in their investigation about the true maker of an antique sculpture. But as they go about their kid detective work they, Claudia especially, unknowingly encounter a path towards self-discovery, and Mixed-Up Files ultimately becomes fixed on an eye-opening search for what makes a person different and beautiful inside--a living work of art, in other words.

Mixed-Up Files is structurally a written account addressed to Mrs. Frankweiler’s lawyer. In her letter prefacing her main narrative, she discloses that “I’ve written it to explain certain changes to my last will and testament. You’ll understand those changes (and a lot of other things) much better after reading it.” There's no doubt that her lawyer did understand. “I don’t come in until much later," she continues, "but never mind. You’ll find enough to interest you until you do.” Wes Anderson sure did, and anyone who has ever been a child and who goes on to read (and re-read) Mixed-Up Files does, sure enough.

--
Originally posted here.

At least 20 years ago, I read this book for the first time, and I can say that I have never looked at a fountain the same way!

Twelve-year-old Claudia decides to run away with her younger brother Jamie. Tired of living a boring life, Claudia sets her sights on the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan. One day, they notice an exhibit, an angel with a mystery. Did the famous Michelangelo create this sculpture? Will Claudia and Jamie get to the bottom of this mystery?

The first half of this book is legendary; decades later, I still remember the children’s time in the museum. During the second half of the book, I wasn’t as invested in the mystery portion. In fact, this is the portion of that book that I forgot. Although now as an adult, the feelings of Mrs. Frankweiler resonated more strongly with me.

Overall, a charming children’s book filled with wonder, a book that has stood the test of time with witty sayings from Claudia.

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MartCaptain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
AprtWar and Peace
MaytThe Woman in White
JuntAtonement
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This was my third reading of this Newbery Medal winning book. My first time it was read to me (and the rest of my class) by my third grade teacher. I was the same age as young Jamie at the time, and the book made quite an impression. When my own boys were the same ages as Claudia and Jamie I read it to them, just as my teacher had read it to me. The younger of the two was fascinated by Jamie, and was particularly tickled by his affinity for complications. Now my boys are grown, I’m old, and I read it yet again (on audiobook — something about this book calls out to be read aloud) to see if I could grasp and put into words the appeal this books has for generations of young people.

What struck me on this reading is the great respect this book has for its young protagonist. Nine and (almost) twelve, Jamie and Claudia’s ages, are usually a time when kids have precious little autonomy. A story of sixth and third grade siblings able to successfully pull off running away from home and living undiscovered for a week in the Manhattan Museum of Art is an idea with great appeal for kids near these ages. Running away is a fantasy almost all kids have at one point or another, and here it is presented as absolutely believable. Beyond that, the kids have smart dialogue — perhaps a bit too precocious, but never going beyond the point where it becomes unbelievable. This book presents kids as kids would like to imagine themselves.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler is a classic book of adventure, mystery, and growing up. It is seasoned with humor. It has captured generations of children with its charm. Perhaps I’ll read it a fourth time if I’m still kicking when I have grandchildren of the appropriate ages.

چرا انقد کتابای رده‌ی سنی نوجوانان موردعلاقه‌ی من اند؟:')

از کتاب:
"About finding herself, about how the greatest adventure lies not in running away but in looking inside, and the greatest discovery is not in finding out who made a statue but in finding out what makes you."

Full Review
CONTENT WARNINGS: None, other than some outdated language such as minor racial slurs. Perfect for ages 7 and up, though truly anyone could enjoy this book.

BOOK 1/2 OF MY PHYSICAL TBR GOAL FOR THE MONTH OF OCTOBER
This book was so very heartwarming and sweet; the perfect middle-grade book for all seasons. The humor was delightful, the characters were fun and interesting to follow, and the plot was so cozy and absolutely lovely. I loved this book, and I can't wait to re-read it one day whenever I'm in the need for simple comfort!

Initial Thoughts
So so so very heartwarming. I loved this book. Not to mention, it helped get me through some rough periods that I’m still working my way through, but life is life and this was exactly what I needed for it.

RTC

Sometimes when I re-visit a book from childhood I'm disappointed by the poor writing, but this book was just as enjoyable as ever. As an adult I was a little appalled by the security at the Met, but I was also impressed by Claudia's grammar quibbles, I'm not sure many 6th graders now would recognize the mistakes she calls her brother out on (she would have been very annoyed by that last phrase).

The edition we read had an afterword by the author for the 35th anniversary of the book, which gave a bit of background and mentioned a more recent event which had similarities to the book's plot device, there was also a short piece with the book's main characters that she wrote to be given to the attendees the night she was awarded the Newbery Medal for this book.

99c Kindle sale, Oct. 23, 2017. This short novel is a classic of middle grade fiction, and the 1968 Newbery Award winner. Eleven year old Claudia decides to run away from home.

She was tired of arguing about whose turn it was to choose the Sunday night seven-thirty television show, of injustice, and of the monotony of everything.

You can tell this is set in an earlier time, before our media entertainment options multiplied. :)

Because her little brother Jamie is a lot better at saving money than she is, she invites him to run away with her. And because she wants to run away to somewhere beautiful and elegant, she chooses to run away to the NYC Metropolitan Museum of Art. They hide when the museum closes for the evening, and then have the place pretty much to themselves at night.

But then Claudia and Jamie come upon a new MOMA acquisition: a lovely angel statue donated by one Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Could it be a Michelangelo sculpture? The art experts aren't sure. And suddenly Claudia has found a mystery she deeply wants to solve, something that may alter her plans.

It's a short, enjoyable MG story, and I've had a paperback copy of it since I was a young teen. It's survived a few rereads and bookshelf purges over the years, so this one was a keeper for me. It really captures the thoughts and feelings of pre-teens. A wealthy older lady, Mrs. Frankweiler, narrates the entire story (for reasons that become apparent later on); I loved her dry humor and no-nonsense demeanor. She reminded me of one of those sharp-minded, crusty, but ultimately kind dowager duchesses that occasionally grace the pages of my Regencies.

This was a ridiculously charming little book.

I think the thing that made it such a great children's book even though I'm definitely not the target audience was because I really grew to care for the main characters, Claudia and Jamie. Reading about them getting into scrapes and going on adventures filled me with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Claudia and Jamie had a wonderful sister-brother relationship that was portrayed realistically. While they teased and got annoyed by one another, they also grew closer over the course of the novel and were constantly looking out for each other.

n  

Jamie couldn’t control his smile. He said, “You know, Claude, for a sister and a fussbudget, you’re not too bad.”
Claudia replied, “You know, Jamie, for a brother and a cheapskate, you’re not too bad.”

n
When Claudia plans to run away from home, she brings her younger brother, Jamie, with her. They pack their clothes in a trumpet case and take the train to New York where they hide out in The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It made me feel so cozy to follow these two wonderful children as they camped out in the museum, hid from the night watchmen, fell asleep in the bed of Marie Antoinette, and bought food with their pocket money from cafés.

This was so heartwarming and was just the kind of uplifting story I needed. I read it while sipping a cup of tea and couldn't have had a more enjoyable reading experience.

I liked how the ending was satisfactory without getting too sentimental. While it never became philosophical, Claudia and Jamie were able to bring back memories from my childhood and filled my heart with a longing for adventure.

My oldest grandson Philip is an avid reader, a trait my wife and I like to encourage. He'd encountered this Newbery award winner in his school library, and wanted to own a copy, so we gave him one for his 11th birthday last fall. When he discovered that I'd never read it (it was first published in 1967, by which time I was in high school, and focusing my reading on more "grown-up" books), he wanted to share it with me, so he loaned me his copy. (Last year, he likewise introduced me to another kid's classic, Stone Fox.) I'd heard of the book, but had no real clue what it was about.

Elaine Konigsburg (like some other women writers in the earlier decades of the past century, when the book trade was more male-dominated, she hid her gender behind her initials) became an instant success in children's literature with this essentially debut novel. (It was technically the second one she had published, but both books were submitted at the same time.) That's a deserved tribute to her skill as a writer; the craftsmanship of the book is of a pretty high order.

As we learn from the outset through a short "cover letter," the body of the book is supposedly a narrative composed by Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler to her longtime (and long-suffering) lawyer, Saxonburg, to explain a change she wants made to her will. She's a childless 82-year-old widow, as rich as Croesus, and definitely eccentric, imperious and opinionated. Ordinarily, she's not the sort of narrator many kids would readily relate to; but she immediately focuses her tale on two kids, Claudia (age 11) and her nine-year-old brother Jamie. In fact, it's not immediately made clear what relation Mrs. Frankenweiler is going to have to the events of her story. That's a deft move on the author's part, giving child readers child protagonists to relate to, and a bit of mystery as a hook. Claudia's made up her mind to temporarily run away from her home in the New York City suburb of Greenwich, dragging Jamie along for the ride to get the benefit of his assiduously-saved allowance money, and plans to stay in New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art (an actual institution that's still there today) for the duration of her adventure. The expedition will involve both children in a mystery surrounding a Renaissance statuette of an angel that may or may not have been sculpted by Michelangelo --and in some life lessons and self-discovery as well.

Like most books aimed at this age group (older pre-teens), this chapter book is a short (182 pages of main text) quick read. It's also well-written, with the kind of story-line that keeps you turning pages compulsively to see what happens next. The author had a genius for characterization; the two kids are extremely realistic embodiments of children their age (while being nicely differentiated individuals with distinctive personalities and speaking styles). She also laces her writing with an undercurrent of dry humor that frequently crops out. Both the humor and the characterizations, as well as the subtleties of the psychological content, IMO, might actually be perceived and appreciated better by adult readers than by kids. The plotting isn't predictable, and we get one surprise near the end that fits like a jigsaw puzzle and was foreshadowed by clues hidden in plain sight, but which most readers won't see coming. On the whole, it's a kid's book that can hold adult interest. Still, I think I might have liked it better as a child than as an adult reader. Why, you ask?

As I said, Claudia and Jamie are very realistic child characters; I could recognize a lot of traits of my grandkids in them. But these include a lot of traits that (even though I love my grandkids!) are very calculated to drive me up the wall, and I expect many other parents and grandparents have the same reaction. These kids aren't evil or cruel, but they do have a basically self-centered orientation and ethical cluelessness at times, an aversion to responsibility and a feeling that mild chores are an insufferable imposition. Add to this a capacity for sibling rivalry thick enough to cut with a knife, and a willingness of a younger kid to check his brain at the door and let an older sibling lead him around by the nose into outrageous behavior that he should never even have considered. (Been there, see that every day --want to scream at it.) The whole runaway scenario factors into this. Claudia isn't an abused, unloved child trying to escape a horrible home life. She's a pampered, well-to-do kid who doesn't think she's pampered enough, and just wants to run off to subject her family to "a lesson in Claudia appreciation." Yes, she mailed them a letter (which they wouldn't get until at least the next day!) telling them not to worry --as if they wouldn't! Konigsburg keeps the adults in Claudia's family largely offstage, so that readers can put them out of mind. But you don't put people you genuinely love out of mind, and you don't put them through hell just for purely selfish reasons --and as a father and grandfather myself, whenever I'd let myself think about it, I knew Claudia and Jamie were putting the adults in their lives through hell. Yes, if I'd been the parent, I'd have been unspeakably thankful and relieved to get them back safe. But I might also have grounded them for about 47 years, and possibly packed them off for a semester at a boarding military academy in northern Alaska as a lesson in family appreciation. (Okay, I might be exaggerating slightly for effect. :-) ) That colored my reaction to the tale in a way that it might not have as a kid. (It's also why I recommend the book only for mature kids, who wouldn't blindly consider these characters role models and be encouraged to run away themselves!)

Interestingly, a book I read last year, Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick (b. 1966) has a similar plot structure: his protagonist is a runaway who sets out for, and hides out in, another real-life New York museum (the American Museum of Natural History). Selznick isn't a Goodreads author, so I don't know if he ever read Konigsburg's classic; but I think it's possible that he did, and that it may have been one of his literary influences. The difference between the two books, though, is instructive (and helps to explain why I rated the later book higher): Selznick's protagonist Ben manages his escape in a way that won't leave his family members insane with worry, and does tell a family member where he's going. And he has a psychological need to go, to deal with a question that's crucially important to him in learning who he is; it's not just a whim, and he doesn't pull a nine-year-old sibling along into the venture.

The edition of this book that I read was a 35-year anniversary reprint, with an afterword by the author, which explained a bit about the models for the characters in her own family, the changes in New York City and the Museum itself since she wrote, some of the inspiration for the story, the reason she never wrote a sequel (and I agree with that decision, because I think this is a story that's truly artistically complete in itself, as it stands) etc.; I enjoyed this feature, and felt it enhanced the book. At the time, she mourned the recent passing of both her husband and her longtime editor, who'd both loved the book. Sadly, Mrs. Konigsburger herself passed away as well, in 2013. But this book alone would be a worthy legacy (and she wrote other prize-winning tales as well!), and I give it a solid rating of three earned stars!