Allergic to Camping, Hiking, and Other Natural Disasters (Alvin Ho Series #2)

Allergic to Camping, Hiking, and Other Natural Disasters (Alvin Ho Series #2)

4.7 26
by Lenore Look, Leuyen Pham
     
 

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Here's the second book in the beloved and hilarious Alvin Ho chapter book series, which has been compared to Diary of a Wimpy Kid and is perfect for both beginning and reluctant readers.

Alvin, an Asian American second grader who's afraid of everything, is back, and his worst fear has come true: he has to go camping. What will he do exposed in

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Overview

Here's the second book in the beloved and hilarious Alvin Ho chapter book series, which has been compared to Diary of a Wimpy Kid and is perfect for both beginning and reluctant readers.

Alvin, an Asian American second grader who's afraid of everything, is back, and his worst fear has come true: he has to go camping. What will he do exposed in the wilderness with bears and darkness and . . . pit toilets? Luckily, he’s got his night-vision goggles and water purifying tablets and super-duper heavy-duty flashlight to keep him safe. And he’s got his dad, too.

From Lenore Look and New York Times bestselling illustrator LeUyen Pham comes a drop-dead-funny and touching series with a truly unforgettable character.

“Shares with Diary of a Wimpy Kid the humor that stems from trying to manipulate the world.” —Newsday

“Alvin’s a winner.” —New York Post

Editorial Reviews

Children's Literature - Shirley Nelson
Alvin Ho is scared of just about everything but particularly of being in the woods. When his father suggests a camping trip, Alvin is horrified and elicits advice from his brother, Calvin, and his younger sister, Annibelly. Calvin and Alvin place an internet order for necessary camping supplies including the "world's best flashlight" and pay with Dad's emergency credit card, not thinking of the consequences. Uncle Dennis arrives and teaches Alvin survival skills and the importance of his Batman ring. The planned trip to bond father and son does not go as planned. Annibelly demands to go along. She and Alvin manage to cause much trouble including setting a trap which captures their father, leaving him hanging upside down from a tree, but in the end, bonds are formed, friendships are made, and valuable lessons are learned. Young boys, in particular, will enjoy the humorous antics and illustrations. Reviewer: Shirley Nelson
School Library Journal
Gr 2-4–This second story about Alvin Ho, the boy who is afraid of almost everything, is another delightful look into the life of the timid youngster. In this installment, his fears center around a big upcoming event: camping with his dad. Once again, Look’s dialogue is spot on: she captures the silly, impetuous, jump-from-one-idea-to-the-next quality of a second-grade boy. Alvin’s adventures (like getting trapped in a dishwasher box while pretending to be Houdini, and learning secret camping tricks from his uncle) are charmingly genuine and fun to read. Look’s pitch-perfect descriptions and phrasing add to the overall humor and heart of the story (about his sister, Alvin says, “She’s like a stoplight in the middle of my life and there’s just no avoiding her.”) and her sensitivity to what it means to be a not-quite-normal little boy is right on target. Whimsical illustrations pop up mid-page; Pham’s expressive characters capture the essence of the story. A “Very Scary Glossary” of Alvin’s fears and favorite things is included at the end. There are certain stories kids read and just feel good for having read: this is one of them.–Nicole Waskie, Chenango Forks Elementary, Binghamton, NY
Kirkus Reviews
The second installment in this series about an effervescent but nerve-wracked second grader will please its fans and appeal to new readers as well. When his father insists on taking him camping, Alvin is quaking in his boots. Sensing his panic, Alvin's older brother, Calvin, orders hundreds of dollars of survival gadgetry on the Internet with their dad's emergency credit card ("This way no one has to spend any money," Calvin explains, "you pay with plastic"). Further support arrives in the form of their uncle's lessons on trap building, and the inevitable comedy of errors that is the actual camping trip leaves Alvin, his little sister, Anibelly, and their dad in a variety of wild binds. While Look certainly embellishes at times for comedic effect, she has created in Alvin a character that is as real as he is irascible, and the tender relationships among the members of the Ho family provide a sturdy backbone for all the silliness. Pham's simple but vibrant line drawings leap off the page. Another triumph for Alvin Ho. (Fiction. 7-10)
From the Publisher
Starred Review, The Horn Book Magazine, September/October 2009:
"Readers can only hope that Alvin continues to describe in such wonderful detail his many allergic reactions."

Kirkus Reviews, May 19, 2009
"While Look certainly embellishes at times for comedic effect, she has created in Alvin a character that is as real as he is irascible, and the tender relationships among the members of the Ho family provide a sturdy backbone for all the silliness. Pham’s simple but vibrant line drawings leap off the page. Another triumph for Alvin Ho."

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781606866405
Publisher:
Random House Childrens Books
Publication date:
02/29/2000
Series:
Alvin Ho Series, #2
Pages:
170
Sales rank:
939,955
Product dimensions:
5.25(w) x 7.75(h) x 0.50(d)
Age Range:
6 - 10 Years

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
Believing in Henry

you will know some things about me if you have read a book called Alvin Ho: Allergic to Girls, School, and Other Scary Things. But you won’t know all about me, so that is why there is now this second book.

In case you missed it, my name is Alvin Ho. I was born scared and I am still scared. Things that scare me include:

Long words (especially “hippopotomonstro- sesquipedaliophobia,” which means fear of long words).

Punctuation. (Except for exclamation points! Exclamations are fantastic!!!)

The dark (which means I have nyctophobia).

The great outdoors. (What’s so great about it?) Lots of things can happen when you’re outdoors:

Hurricanes.

Tornadoes.

Mudslides.

Landslides.

The end of the world.

I am scared of many more things than that. But if I put all my scares on one list, it would mean years of therapy for me. And I already go to therapy once a month on account of it’s supposed to help me not be so scared. But my brother Calvin says when you’re born a certain way, that’s the way you’ll always be, so you might as well hug your inner scaredy-cat.

My brother Calvin, he gives good advice.

I am not so good with advice. I can never think of any, except maybe this: When in doubt, always ask, “What would Henry do?” Henry is Henry David Thoreau. He’s a dead author, which is really creepy. But he is also our school hero, which is not so creepy, and he was a lot like me—he had stuff figured out, even when he was little. He was born in Concord, Massachusetts, just like me. And—gulp—he died in Concord too.

Of course, I could never say, “What would Henry do?” at school, where I never say anything. This is on account of school is mortifying. And when I am mortified, which means totally scared to death, I can’t scream, I can’t talk, I can’t even grunt. Nothing comes out of my mouth, no matter how hard I try.

Having a lot in common with Henry can be very useful. For example, we learned in music class today that Henry played the flute. And whenever he played, a mouse would come to listen, and Henry would feed it with the extra pieces of cheese that he kept in his pocket.

“My brother has a flute,” I told the gang on the bus after school. “He rented it for lessons . . . and we have cheese in the refrigerator.”

“Let’s go,” said Pinky.

So when the bus stopped at the end of my driveway, the gang followed me to my house. Usually, it is a tricky business getting them to play with me unless it is Pinky’s idea. Pinky is the biggest boy and the leader of the gang, and no one plays with me unless Pinky does.

Except for Flea. Flea plays with me no matter what. But the problem with Flea is that she’s a girl. And girls are annoying.

Fortunately, my mom was at work and my gunggung, who comes to watch us after school, was fast asleep on the sofa. So I left the gang in the kitchen and tiptoed past the sofa . . . to fetch Calvin’s flute from the top of the piano where he had put it for safekeeping. No problem.

The only problem was Anibelly. She’s four, she’s my sister, and she was wide awake, following me everywhere and getting in my way as usual.

“That’s Calvin’s,” said Anibelly.

I stopped. I pretended I didn’t see Anibelly. But it is hard not to see her. She’s like a stoplight in the middle of my life and there’s just no avoiding her. I can’t go anywhere without going past her or taking her with me if I’m in a hurry.

“But Calvin’s practicing his karate moves at Stevie’s house,” I said. “And I need his flute for a little experiment.”

“What spearmint?” asked Anibelly.

“Well, you live in Concord, Massachusetts, don’t you?” I asked.

Anibelly nodded.

“You believe in Henry David Thoreau, don’t you?”

Anibelly nodded again.

“Well, then, if you keep quiet,” I said, “I’ll let you watch.”

So Anibelly kept quiet.

First I put Calvin’s flute together.

Then I went back into the kitchen where the gang was waiting and looked for some cheese.

Actually there was quite a lot of cheese, all chopped up and zipped inside a plastic bag. It was very yummy. And we were hungrier than a pack of starving mice. By the time we finished snacking, there were only a few crumbs left to put in my pocket. But I was sure that our teacher, Miss P, had said that Henry had pieces of cheese, not crumbs.

“I’d heard pieces too, not crumbs,” said Sam, who usually always pays better attention in class than I do. “A mouse isn’t going to come for crumbs.”

So we cobbled all our crumbs together to make a piece of cheese, which I put in my pocket. Then I picked up Calvin’s flute, put it to my lips and blew.

“Pshhhhhffffffffrrrrrrrrrrr.” It sounded like a sick worm blowing its nose. So I blew again, harder. “Pshhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

“Lemme try,” said Pinky, snatching the flute and the piece of cobbled cheese from my pocket. “Pssssssssuuurrrgggggh!” He sounded worse than I did!

Then Nhia took a turn. Then Sam. Then Jules and Eli and Hobson. By the time Calvin’s flute was finally passed to Flea, it was drooling worse than our dog, Lucy, on a hot day, and the cobbled cheese that ended up in her pocket was hardly recognizable as cheese, except for the smell.

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