Humans have it all wrong about aliens. Sometimes I see images of us on television--with enormous eyes, with skin the color of spring leaves--and I wonder: Who thought of this? What reason could they have? Olive always tells me not to watch those shows. "You'll just give yourself bad dreams," she says. So we switch off the TV and curl up by the window, listening to the gentle hush of waves. But the truth is, I really don't belong here--not permanently, not forever. That's why we're traveling in this Winnebago, zooming down dark roads at midnight. Olive is wearing her frayed overalls, and she's cradling me in her arms. I don't squirm. I don't scratch. I am not that type of cat. "You won't forget me," she says, pressing her forehead to mine. "Please promise you won't." She smells of cinnamon toast and raspberry shampoo. There are daisy barrettes in her hair. And for a second, I consider lying to her--out of love. The words are right there: I will always remember. I could never forget. But I've been honest with her this whole time, and the rules of intergalactic travel are clear. Tomorrow, I will forget everything I've ever felt. In my mind, Olive will exist only as data, as pure information. I'll remember her daisy barrettes, our Saturday afternoons by Wrigley Pier--but not how it felt to share a beach towel, or read books together, or fall asleep under the late June sun. And Olive doesn't deserve that. She is so much more than a collection of facts. Halfheartedly, I summon a purr. It rattles weakly in my chest. "You get to go home," Olive says, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Home." The Winnebago speeds faster, then faster still. Outside, the sky is full of stars. And I want to communicate that I will miss this--feeling so small, so earthly . Am I ready to go back? Half of me is. And yet, when I close my eyes, I picture myself clinging to the walls of this motor home. Olive sets me down on the countertop, the plastic cool under my paws. Opening her laptop, she angles the keyboard toward me, a gesture that says, Type, will you? But I shake my head, fur shivering. "You don't want to talk?" she asks. What can I say? I owe it to Olive not to make this any harder. So I won't use the computer. I won't tell her what I've been hoping--to maybe carry one thing back. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, a part of Olive will imprint on a part of me, and I will remember how it felt. How it felt to know a girl once. "Okay," she says, shutting her laptop with a sigh. "At least eat your crunchies." So I eat my crunchies. They're trout-flavored and tangy on my tongue. I chew slowly, savoring the morsels. This is one of my last meals as a cat. I haven't always lived in this body. Leonard wasn't always my name. Olive pats my head as I lick the bowl clean. "I know you didn't want to be a cat," she says, so softly that my ears prick to hear her, "but you are a very, very good cat." I want the computer now. My paws are itching to type: You are a very, very good human . Because she is. And she will be, long after I'm gone. If you allow yourself, you might like our story. It's about cheese sandwiches and an aquarium and a family. It has laughter and sadness and me, learning what it means to be human. On my journey to Earth, I was supposed to become human. That is where I'll begin. Excerpted from Leonard (My Life As a Cat) by Carlie Sorosiak All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
School Library Journal Review
| Gr 4--7--On a helium planet far, far away, an unembodied species has the opportunity, on their 300th birthday, to travel to Earth and experience life as a human--at least, that's the plan. Our hero has decided he wants to be a park ranger in Yellowstone, but getting distracted while traveling via energy beam causes him to end up as a cat, rescued from a tropical storm in South Carolina by Olive, who names him Leonard. Problem is, at the end of his 30-day window, he'll need to be blown out of the Old Faithful geyser at Yellowstone, or he'll be stuck on Earth forever, and no longer immortal. As the days pass, Leonard comes to learn the joys of having a body (even if he does hack up a fur ball) and, even more, of love. His obligation to meet up with his own kind at Yellowstone, and the challenges of making the nearly 2,000-mile trip, grows more daunting every day. It's only when Leonard enlists the help of Olive and her family that things finally begin to make sense. While this charming story exists in the realm of science fiction, it is more an animal story than anything else, and perfect to hand to young cat lovers. Leonard's surprise at, and observations of, life in a cat's body is spot-on and frequently very funny. His authentic, deepening relationship with Olive--who has been told that she's "weird" because she loves to talk about animals--allows her to stand up and make her voice heard at an important juncture in her life. VERDICT Purchase where eccentric, humorous animal stories are popular.--Elizabeth Friend, Wester M.S., TX |
Booklist Review
| An alien hurtles toward Earth, expecting to shape-shift into human form and work as a Yellowstone park ranger until his scheduled rendezvous for departure. Instead, his shape is decidedly catlike, and his landing spot (a tree in South Carolina) is way off target. What's more, unless he can reach Yellowstone soon, he's doomed to be an earthbound, mortal cat. Fortunately, 11-year-old Olive, who's living temporarily with her grandmother, rescues the cat, which she names Leonard. Though sometimes awkward around other kids, Olive is smart, kind, and enthusiastic about animals. She's stunned when Leonard shares his identity and asks for a lift to Yellowstone. Lonely Olive and curious Leonard have both been feeling adrift and far from home. Now firm friends, they hatch a secret plan involving a road trip that leaves readers guessing until almost the end. Sorosiak, who also wrote I, Cosmo (2019), creates believable characters whose actions are consistent and plausible. Readers will particularly enjoy Leonard's distinctive first-person narrative, sprinkled with an alien's refreshing observations about the language, habits, and idiosyncrasies of Earth's two- and four-legged inhabitants. Visually, the cat silhouettes at chapter headings add an appealing touch. Often amusing and occasionally moving, this imaginative chapter book is never less than fully engaging. |
Kirkus Review
| An alien in the body of a cat visits Earth and bonds with a human girl. The alien was supposed to do research on humans by spending time disguised as a person working in Yellowstone National Park but by mistake ends up as a cat in Turtle Beach, South Carolina. Olive, who is staying with her grandmother for the summer, rescues the cat and names him Leonard. Leonard immediately becomes fond of Olive, but he is anxious about how he'll make the journey to the pickup point where fellow aliens are meeting him in just one month. If he misses it, he'll become mortal and be stuck as a cat. Olive has her own worries; she might have to move to California because of her mom's new boyfriend--the same guy who told Olive she was socially awkward and inept. Together, Olive and Leonard experience the joys of companionship. As the time counts down, Leonard has to decide if he's willing to give up his earthly existence to return home. Humanity isn't just for humans in this earnest, heartfelt story told from Leonard's perspective. The characters experience loneliness and distress, but that makes the happiness and comfort of friendship all the more important. The alien aspect creates intrigue but mostly serves as a vehicle to showcase the preciousness of the human experience from an outsider's perspective. Human characters are racially indeterminate. A comforting read about connection and compassion. (Science fiction. 8-12) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission. |
