My name, if you must know, is Franklin Delano Donuthead.  Try saying that in a room full of fifth graders if you think names will never hurt you.

Stauffacher begins with that fabulous opening, and introduces readers to the most paranoid, clueless, funny-without-meaning-to-be protagonist I've ever seen in children's literature.  He thinks one side of his body is longer than the other, and measures himself every day.  He has a relationship with the chief statistician of the National Safety Department in Washington.  He knows all of the major causes of death for children and avoids them studiously: ". . . I never play with matches or firearms; never climb trees, ladders, or fences; change the smoke detector batteries every three months; do not drink liquids that are stored under the sink or put any plastic bags over my head."  And he is terrified of playing baseball, in spite of his mother's dream that he grow up to play third base for the Yankees.

As appears to be the trend in modern children's lit, Stauffacher has dispatched one of Franklin's parents by the end of chapter one.  (As an aside, this trend is so noted a young adult author wrote a book titled One of those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies.  Ostensibly this is to aid in the Major Rule of Writing that the child must solve his or her problems independently of adults.  I could probably go on a major soapbox with that idea, but I'll refrain as it's only Saturday morning.)  Interestingly, this particular book has, not a Dead Dad or a Divorced Dad, but a sperm donor.  I'm not kidding.  And it's discussed very openly between Franklin and his mother, with Franklin hoping the clinic kept good records in case he needed half siblings as organ donors someday.

All this in chapter one.  Talk about tight writing!

Then we meet Sarah Kervick in Chapter Two, and the story picks up even more speed.  She arrives as a new student and is assigned to Franklin, who takes one look at her shabby, dirty, inappropriate-for-the-weather clothes, her matted hair, and observes: "I'm sure my mouth just hung open.  I'd never seen a finer host for parasites than the girl staring back at me.  In less that thirty seconds, she would be sitting close enough for her fleas to change their address."  As the story progresses, Sarah stands up for Franklin when he's taunted by the class bully, and his life is changed forever.  With an example set by his mother, Franklin begins looking past his own fears to someone who has "real problems" as his mother describes Sarah.  He and Sarah each find skills previously unknown, including the capacity for friendship.

A story with a lot of humor and even more heart, Donuthead's supporting cast of memorable characters gently shows readers the importance of looking at life through the eyes of another without ever becoming didactic or condescending.  I can't believe no one told me about this book when it first published (apparently it's beloved by librarians everywhere), and I'm happy to say that a sequel, Donutheart, is available, with a third book on the way.  My only gripes: not knowing where the story took place (Michigan, apparently), or a firm feeling on the time period.  It's got that generic, attempting-to-be-timeless quality, with anti-bacterial wipes and his mom working for the cable company being the primary indicator of a more modern time period.