Mayo Cornelius Higgins sits on his gleaming, forty-foot steel pole, towering over his home on Sarah's Mountain. Stretched before him are rolling hills and shady valleys. But behind him lie the wounds of strip mining, including a mountain of rubble that may one day fall and bury his home.
M.C. dreams of escape for himself and his family. And, one day, atop his pole, he thinks he sees it two strangers are making their way toward Sarah's Mountain. One has the ability to make M.C.'s mother famous. And the other has the kind of freedom that M.C. has never even considered.
|Product dimensions:||5.12(w) x 7.62(h) x 0.90(d)|
|Age Range:||9 - 12 Years|
About the Author
The recipient of nearly every major award and honor in her field, including the 1992 Hans Christian Anderson Award, Virgina Hamilton was the first African-American woman to be awarded the Newbery Medal, for M.C. Higgins The Great. Renowned as a storyteller, anthologist and lecturer as well as a novelist, Ms. Hamilton makes her home in Yellow Springs, Ohio.
Leo and Diane Dillon are an award winning illustrator pair that have collaborated of book projects for more than fifty years, winning two consecutive Caldecott Medals for Why Mosquitoes Buzz In People's Ears and Ashanti To Zulu: African Traditions. They have also received five New York Times Best Illustrated Books Awards, five Coretta Scott King Honors and one Coretta Scott King Award and many other awards and distinctions. They live and work in Brooklyn, New York.
Date of Birth:March 12, 1936
Date of Death:February 19, 2002
Place of Birth:Yellow Springs, Ohio
Place of Death:Yellow Springs, Ohio
Education:Attended Antioch College, Ohio State University, and the New School for Social Research
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M.C. Higgins the Great
By Virginia Hamilton
Simon & Schuster Children's PublishingCopyright © 1999 Virginia Hamilton
All right reserved.
Chapter OneMayo Cornelius Higgins raised his arms high to the sky and spread them wide. He glanced furtively around. It was all right. There was no one to see his greeting to the coming sunrise. But the motion of his arms caused a flutter of lettuce leaves he had bound to his wrists with rubber bands. Like bracelets of green feathers, the leaves commenced to wave.
M.C., as he was called, felt warm, moist air surround him. Humidity trapped in the hills clung to the mountainside as the night passed on. In seconds, his skin grew clammy. But he paid no attention to the oppressive heat with its odors of summer growth and decay. For he was staring out over a grand sweep of hills, whose rolling outlines grew clearer by the minute. As he stood on the gallery of his home, the outcropping on which he lived on the mountainside seemed to fade out from under him.
I'm standing in midair, he thought.
He saw dim light touch clouds clustered behind the eastern hills.
Bounce the sun beside me if I want.
All others of his family were still asleep in the house. To be by himself in the perfect quiet was reason enough for him to wake up way early. Alone for half an hour, he could believe he had been chosen to remain forever suspended, facing the hills. He could pretend there was nothing terrible behind him, above his head. Arms outstretched, picture-framed by pine uprights supporting the gallery roof, he was M.C. Higgins, higher than everything.
M.C. smiled. Going to be my best day, he told himself. He let his arms fall, and sniffed a bracelet of cold, fresh vegetable. He bit gently into a lettuce stem, pulling at it until he had an entire leaf to chew.
Will it really be mine - this mountain? Daddy says it will one day.
He loved the mountain, its long, lingering dawns. But he frowned, squinting off at the hills with night still huddled in their folds.
Now it won't ever be mine.
He shivered as with a sudden chill, and stepped off the gallery.
Pay no mind to what Daddy says.
"We have to leave it," he said softly, "and that's a shame."
M.C. walked quickly to the edge of the outcropping where tangled undergrowth made deep shadows. He avoided looking at the side yard with its burial ground covered with car junk, and his prize like no other.
See it later, he told himself, thinking of the prize. See it when the sun is making it shine.
Slipping through the undergrowth, he took one of the paths down the mountainside. Soon he was striding swiftly through piney woods. The leaf bracelets wafted on air as though in flight, as he plunged and wove among the trees.
M.C. was barefoot, wearing carefully ironed blue jeans and a brown, faded T-shirt. The shirt was the color and fit of a second skin over his broad shoulders. Already he was perspiring. But his motions remained lithe and natural, as he moved easily among trees and shade. Pushing through pine boughs, he continued on his errand.
Bet I haven't caught a single rabbit, just like on Thursday and Saturday, too.
He had to check all three of his rabbit traps and then get home to wait for this new dude to arrive.
They were saying in the hills that some new kind of black fellow had come in with a little box of a tape recorder. All slicked down and dressed to kill, they were saying he was looking to put voices on the tape in his box.
And now M.C. knew how he could get around his daddy and get his mama and his brothers and sister off the dangerous mountain. The idea had come to him after he heard about the dude. Two days ago, greeting the sunrise, there it began in his mind, growing and growing with each new ray of light.
Dude going to make Mama a star singer like Sister Baby on the radio, M.C. thought. We'll have to travel with her - won't that be something? But Mama is better than Sister Baby. He'll make her the best anybody ever heard.
The dude had already been told about M.C.'s mother and the kind of voice she had.
What if he gets to home when I'm gone? No, too early for him. He'll have to walk it, M.C. thought. Probably lose himself about twice before he makes it up the mountain.
M.C. lived three miles inland from the Ohio River. His rabbit traps were strung out at the edge of a plateau between Sarah's Mountain, where he lived on the outcropping, and a low hill called Kill's Mound. On the Mound lived the Killburn people, whose youngest son was the same age as M.C.
M.C. smiled to himself as he moved like shadow through the damp stillness. Ben Killburn was just his age but only half his size. M.C. was tall, with oak-brown skin, like his mother; yet he was muscular and athletic, like his father. He had a hard strength and grace that helped make him the best swimmer ever to come out of the hills. The first time he had tried to swim the Ohio River, a year and a half ago, he almost drowned.
His father, finding him exhausted, vomiting on the river bank: "You think that river is some mud puddle you can wade right into without a thought?"
And then, his father beating him with his belt: "A boat wouldn't go into that water not knowing how the currents run. (Whack!) I'm not saying you can't swim it (Whack!), as good a swimmer as you are. (Whack!) But you have to study it, you have to practice. You have to know you're ready. (Whack-whack-whack!) I'll even give you a prize, anything that won't cost me to spend some money. (Wham!)"
M.C. left the path and plunged into weeds of ginseng and wild daisy in a clearing. Standing still a moment, he searched until he spied the first trap half-hidden. Cautiously he picked his way toward it, for he had placed the trap at the edge of a long, narrow ravine. Across the ravine was Kill's Mound but he could hardly see it. An abundance of trees grew up from the bottom of the ravine, blocking his view. He couldn't glimpse the Killburn land, or houses and barns at all.
M.C. stopped again. He gave off a soft call. Cupping his hands tightly around his lips, he pitched the call high enough to make it sound like a young turkey gobbling. He remembered that when he was a child out with his father, they often came upon a whole flock of wild turkeys. Now all such birds were rarely seen.
Deep in the ravine, there came a soft answering sound, a yelp of a hound puppy nipped on the ear by his mama.
Ben Killburn was there waiting, as M.C. figured he would be. And after M.C. checked his traps, he would have time to spend with Ben.
Calling like birds and animals wasn't just a game they played. It was the way M.C. announced he was there without Ben's daddy and his uncles finding out. M.C. wouldn't have wanted to run into the Killburn men any more than he would want his own father to know he was playing with Ben. Folks called the Killburns witchy people. Some said that the Killburn women could put themselves in trances and cast out the devil. Killburn men and women both could heal a bad wound by touching, although M.C. had never seen them do it. Boys scattered around the hills never would play with Ben. They said it was because he was so little and nervous. But M.C. had played with Ben from the time he was a child and didn't know better. When he was older, he had been told. Now he guessed Ben was like a bad habit he couldn't break and had to keep secret.
The traps M.C. made were a yard long, a foot high and a little more than a foot wide. He had put them together from scraps of wood and chicken wire.
Better soon take them apart, he thought. Stack them, so when we move ...
He checked them. Not a one of them is sprung, he said to himself.
Peering through the chicken wire, he saw that his lure of lettuce was still in place and rotting from two days of heat. The animal trails took the rabbits through the weeds into the ravine where they drank at a stream, and on to Mrs. Killburn's large vegetable gardens.
Maybe her greens have gone sour, M.C. thought. Not one rabbit come even close.
Disgusted, he held the raised trapdoor in place. He reached inside and tore lettuce loose from the first trap. He threw the rotting lure as far as he could into the ravine. Cleaning out the other two traps, he took fresh lure from his wrist bands.
Just a waste of time, he thought, shoving lettuce into the traps. But I'd sure like to taste some wild meat.
Finishing the chore, M.C. fluffed up weeds where he had trampled them down, making the traps less obvious. Then he started down into the ravine, grabbing hold of a wood post of a vine bridge. The bridge hung across the ravine to a landing on Kill's Mound.
My bridge, M.C. thought.
One time he had kept on thinking about how often Ben's mother had to climb up the side of the ravine to go anyplace. Usually she carried one of her babies on her hip. Slowly it had come to him what could be done.
"Vines are thick," he had told Ben. "You get your daddy and your uncles to cut them and make a weave."
He told Ben that wood posts had to go in solid ground on each side of the ravine. He told how to soak the vines, then loop them at the top and bottom of each post, and how to weave the vines so they'd stay tight. How to tie them.
I figured it, M.C. thought, admiring the simple lattice weave of the bridge.
Only one trouble.
Ben was so used to living the same, he hadn't trusted a new way of doing. It had taken Ben forever to make up his mind that M.C. knew what he was talking about. When he had finally told his father, Mr. Killburn dropped everything and set to work making the bridge.
Stretching himself out, M.C. held on to the post for as long as he could. Then he let go and plunged, running, sliding and falling down into the ravine. He had to keep watch for patches of seepage, which dried up in one place only to form again in another. The patches could be soft and muddy, or bottomless like sink holes. Growth covering them was yellow-green or black with rot.
Either way, M.C. thought, each is trouble.
He made it down the ravine without any danger to himself and into the midst of it, where the stream gurgled along.
Something swooshed over his head, M.C. ducked in a crouch. He smiled and turkey-gobbled softly. Staying down, he craned his head up and around to see.
Ben Killburn had come swinging out of the trees on the opposite side of the ravine, his hands and legs spidery tight around a strong, old vine. He swung back, swooshing through the air some four feet above M.C.'s head.
"Hurry up." Ben silently mouthed the words as he glided, rising into the trees on the Kill's Mound side.
The ravine was an ancient place, with trees taller than most others over the hills. Once there had been a river through it. Ben's grandmother remembered all about it. She'd put on her bonnet and ride that river meander to the town of Harenton near the Ohio River.
Now there was only the stream and seeping wetness. Because the trees grew so huge, M.C. suspected that the river still flowed underground. Not only were they massive but they were entwined with vines as thick as a man's arm. Maybe the vines were poison ivy grown monstrous from Killburn magic.
M.C. liked the idea of witchy vines.
Funny they never cause me to itch, or Ben, either.
The vines tangled up and up to the very tops of trees. They connected with other vines and other branches, forming a network that shut out hard sunlight. Dampness became trapped with heat, causing fog to hang eerily just above the ground.
Wouldn't want to be caught down here in the night, M.C. told himself. He shuddered, picturing vines reaching for him and looping themselves around his neck.
M.C. jumped over the stream and headed for Ben waiting on a high branch. Ben's unsmiling face was pale yellow and always looked slightly peaked. He had shocking red hair, thick and long. All of the Killburn children had the same hair, in varying shades of red.
As M.C. came nearer, Ben's gray eyes lit up. He grinned, showing small, pointed teeth. He straightened his knees, then bent them, as if he would jump for joy.
M.C. always felt bigger and strong around Ben, like he wasn't just anybody passing by. He was M.C., and he made a show of examining the vine he would use, which hung down the side of the tree trunk. He grabbed it above his head and braced his feet against the trunk. Leaning far back, he tugged hard on the vine. Positive it would hold his weight, he walked up the tree and climbed onto the branch next to Ben.
The branch twisted horizontally from the tree, searching for sunlight. To balance themselves, the boys had to stand still and hold tight to their vines. For a moment they stared at one another in a silent regard. M.C. liked Ben and felt sorry for his being small and alone when he didn't want to be either. He admired Ben because Ben was a witchy. And he knew that Ben thought a lot of him, since he was like no other boy and would play with Ben. Tall and powerful, M.C. didn't mind being by himself, could do anything well.
Between them was an unspoken agreement. Ben was never to touch M.C. with his hands and risk losing his only friend.
The problem for both of them was that they couldn't walk a path together for fear M.C.'s father or others might see them. M.C. would walk the paths and Ben would stalk him, hidden in the trees. That way they could be together and have no trouble.
"I go first," M.C. suddenly said. He shoved off the branch, swinging out through the ravine. He was carried in a long sweep through the ground fog. In an instant, he appeared shadowy, like a ghost riding lazily on thin air.
Vines are fine, he thought lightly. He felt the coolness of mist on his bare arms. But they aren't the best ride.
M.C. reached the far side. Then Ben swung off the branch and rode low through the fog. Just above the stream, he passed M.C. on the way back.
"I got a ticket to ride," M.C. sang softly as he passed.
Ben grinned with pleasure.
M.C. landed on the branch and pushed off at once. Again he and Ben reached the stream at the same time, from opposite directions.
"Hi, you bro'," M.C. whispered.
"Hi, you M.C.," Ben whispered back, holding tight to his vine.
In slow, ponderous sweeps, they rode back and forth. Their old vines creaked with the strain. The boys swung slowly, and finally they slowed completely.
M.C. caught up his vine with his feet. When he could reach it with one hand, he twisted it up and around his legs and wrapped it around his waist. He let himself hang there above the stream, with his feet dragging in the cool water. Ben did the same.
They swayed gently around in the stillness. Ben looked just as happy as he could be. M.C. was feeling pretty good himself, just listening and feeling the depth of silence. He even glanced at Ben's hands. They were small and appeared almost ordinary, except each hand had six fingers. Ben had six toes on each foot. Folks said all the Killburn men had toes and hands the same.
Eying Ben's witchy hands, M.C. assured himself that the sixth fingers weren't wildly waving and making magic. They were the same as the other ten holding on to the vine. Only they were extra.
M.C. let the sound of the stream become distant. He could hear voices from the Killburn land nearby - snatches of words, their meaning lost on the mist. Dishes made their scraping noise. Chickens, clucking and fussing for food. Farther off, he thought he heard the deep cough and hum of machines.
Bulldozers, working so early?
Sound again from the house - a fretful cry of a child.
"Where's your daddy now?" M.C. said softly to Ben.
"He's at home," Ben said. "And Uncle Lee and Uncle Joe. No work until tomorrow but they fill up the icehouse by evening time."
"Are they going to cross that swinging bridge any time soon?" M.C. didn't like running into Killburn men.
"Not likely before afternoon," Ben said. "Then I have to help them."
If M.C. ran into the Killburn men, his father had warned him never to let them cross his path.
"And your mama?" M.C. said. "Haven't seen her in a while."
"She at home," Ben said. "She was gone most of last night."
"Getting out the devil?" M.C. said, respectfully. He tried to be polite when speaking of Mrs. Killburn's power.
"Deliverin' a baby," Ben said.
"Oh," M.C. said, and then: "Are her greens any good this year?"
"Nothing's any good this year," Ben replied. "My daddy says it will get worse with mining going on everywhere."
Excerpted from M.C. Higgins the Great by Virginia Hamilton Copyright © 1999 by Virginia Hamilton. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I love this book i read it and school and i loved it this book is my second favorite book besides virginia hamiltons other book called zeely its not really like this but i will have all or your question answered by the end
A young man finds his home threatened, but dosen't know whether to relent and leave, or stand his ground to keep his home. The young man also loves a pole in the ground, and not for the pole itself, but because his dad placed it there and it holds sentimental value of their property.
Summary:This story is about M.C. having dreams of him and his family escaping from Sarah's Mountain. In the mountains lies history from family traditions, and future dreams. One day, atop his pole, he thinks he sees it - two strangers are making their way toward Sarah's Mountain. One has the ability to make M.C.'s mother famous.Personal Reaction:My personal reaction to this story is that it teaches us that everyone have goals in life that they want to achieve.Classroom Extension:I will have the class draw the mountain of everything they want to achieve and write their story into reaching that goal.
M. C. Higgins, the Great, the main character, is a tall athletic and thoughtful african american teenager who lives in the Cumberland Mountains. Throughout the story he learns he must come to terms with friends, his father and the traditions of his family. Faced with a threat to the family that is beyond his control, M. C. learns that being an adult means doing one¿s limited best in an imperfect world and he learns to deal with this struggle throughout the entire book.
A great story of a young mountain boy discovering himself. The young boy, M.C. struggles with family ties, his father, and friends. This story shows M.C,'s journey from the coal-mining that is stripping away their homeland and what they know, to friendships, and to wanting to make a difference in the world. A great story of family and making a difference.
This is a powerful story about a teenage boy who deals with a threat to his family as the strip-mining that takes place near his home presents a state of danger. M.C. meets two strangers who try to lend a hand to help his family. This book interestingly addresses important issues like environmental destruction, family bonds, and tradition.
Virgina Hamilton was the first African American to be awarded the Newbery Medal (1975.) Her book is the only book to receive three prestigious awards. In addition to the Newbery Award, it also received the Boston Gobe-Horn book Award and the National Book Award.M.C. (Mayo Cornelius) Higgins and his family are mountain dwellers who live a plain, rugged life overlooking rolling, beautiful hills. Amid the beauty is the reality that the coal miners have desecrated the land and thus the way of living for the Higgins is about to literally come crashing down. This coming of age book pits M.C. and his father against one another as M.C. is the caretaker, provider and pragmatic soul trying to make his father understand the reality that life as they know it is changing. The outside world is represented not only by the scarring of the land, but with the appearance of two characters, an anthropologist and a spunky girl whom M.C. begins to love.I tried to understand this book and I wanted to like it, but alas, even though the images are crisp and the writing is beautiful, it felt like it took forever to get to the story line. I hung in there, but overall, I came away disappointed.
`¿I don¿t know.¿ M.C. signed. ¿¿But I¿m getting tired of Daddy. Tired as I can be.¿¿Come on,¿ Banina said. ¿We¿ll miss the morning sun.¿ And later: ¿It¿s not your daddy you tired of, M.C. It¿s here. It¿s this place. The same thing day after day is enemy to a growing boy.¿And all the ghosts, M.C. thought. All of the old ones.¿M.C. lives on the side of a mountain, just like his father before him and his grandmother before him. But all that must come to an end. Strip mining threatens to send a pile of rubble down on his home. M.C.¿s father refuses to see it.But M.C. is watching for ways to get away and one of the ways arrives in the form of a fellow recording songs. This fellow, this dude, as M.C. calls him, will get M.C.¿s mother a singing contract and take the family away from the hills, M.C. thinks.Another stranger visits, a girl traveling around the country, a city girl who shows M.C. other ways of thinking, of viewing his world, the bigger world. She could be a way out, M.C. thinks.But again and again life disappoints, people disappoint. Out of the disappointments M.C. takes new knowledge and adds it to his old life, building a new life out of the old.
Summary: This books is about Mayo Cornelius Higgins or M.C. and his struggle to find freedom. M.C. dreams of escape for himself and his family from Sarah's Mountain. One day as he sits atop his pole he thinks he sees 2 strangers headed towards Sarah Mountain. One has the ability to make M.C.'s mother famous and the other has a kind of freedom that he has never considered. This is a good book about family and making a difference. Personal Reaction: I enjoyed this book. It really has a great message about accomplishing one's goals and dreams. It talks about family and overcoming family flaws, as well as, making a difference for yourself and your family.Classroom Extension Ideas:1. I would use this in my classroom by having my students draw their own "Mountain of goals and dreams".2. I would use this in my classroom by having my students tell us about their favorite family tradition.
M.C. Higgins is the oldest of the children, and he feels great responsibility for what is happening in his family. Because the coal miners have laid waste to their precious mountain, their house -- and sense of identity as mountain-dwellers -- is in jeopardy. As M.C. deals with the repercussions of this, he dreams of his mother's singing transporting them away from the danger.I can see why this was a Newberry Award winner. There is a depth to the story, and M.C. is a fully realized, round character. He is just at the cusp of adulthood, and it is fascinating to see his growth into his more adult self throughout the book. In some ways, it is a classic coming of age story, but it took most of the book to get to that idea.M.C. spends much of his thoughts on ways in which others will solve the problems the family has been having. It is not until very late in the story that he begins to realize that he has some degree of control over his life and the life of his family.I found it difficult to relate to the character, and I spent much of the story trying to figure out exactly what is was _about_. Yet, the writing itself is quite good. It took some discipline to get through, but many of the "great books" are similarly difficult. Overall, I would rank it among the great books, even if it wasn't necessarily a "fun" book.
Mrs. Senuta,You were my, what, fifth grade teacher? The inscription is in my hand, but it says, " From: Mrs. Senuta, To: Brie." If my memory serves me correctly, you also gave me a reader's journal with it. That too, has been carried with me, untouched for all these years.So here is by book report, long over due.M.C. Higgins, The Great is an enchanting story of one boy's journey through defining who he is in relation to the world. For a boy who lives on the mountain, far from a city life, he has plenty of conflicting forces in his world. He wants to acheive greatness, even if it comes through his mother's success in the music world. He wants off the mountain, as he thinks only devestation exists for him there (and he may be right). He has conflict about the boy who could be defined as both his best friend and no more than a shadow, since MC's world has taught him that Ben is not something to be valued. He wants to be something his father is not, to be able to move about the world as his father seemingly can't, which I believe is what draws him to the pole. He can climb the metal pole with ease, escaping from the world beneath him, watching over the distance to be a protector and a provider, something Jones (his father) isn't.It isn't until he gets caught up in his desire to know Lurhetta, though, that the story gets interesting for me. He meets this girl, is drawn to her freedom, and seemingly wants to tame her. He again, is conflicted about his true desire, swinging from wanting to keep her on the mountain and wanting to run away with her.She is able to teach him to view the world more openly, though, as she pushes him to accept Ben (the "six-fingered witchy") for what he is, a true friend and confidant. In doing so, she also teaches him that the mountain is in fact what he loves, much as it is what his father loves, and is likely to be what his children someday will love, too.MC is not destined to be his father, though, which is the beauty of this novel. For as much as some traits may be passed down a genetic line, there are always choices to be made, such as which walls to tear down, and which to build up.
M. C. Higgins loves where he lives, Sarah Mountain, a land in Ohio that has belonged to his family for a very long time. He has a huge pole with wheels on which he sits and can see the entire mountain and even beyond to the nearest town. But what he most loves about the mountain are the trees, animals, rivers, everything about nature with its own moods and beauty surpassed by nothing or no one. His Dad is very harsh with him but it's a loving harshness. But his Dad just doesn't get the message that the strip mining on the mountain is leading to a natural disaster and M.C. doesn't know how to stop it or how to save his family. He hopes maybe the man coming to hear his Mom sing can get them out of here in time but isn't sure about that. M.C. will then meet a young girl who will awaken a part of him he never knew existed, even giving him new eyes and heart toward his friend, Ben's family, shunned because of their "witchy" powers. Yes, this is a coming of age book but mostly for those young adults (8-12 years recommended) who love the outdoors and want to learn about how being different can be the best and most heartbreaking thing to happen to any human being. I thought this book was rather drawn out in points but all in all it's a very nice story and worthy of its Newberry Award!
I have this book in school and it is getting on my nerves!!!!!! It is so confussing mc goes from one subject to another and i get lost and then have troues reading the book.....if anybody has any advice plz give me sume but besides that i think this book is a decent book Sincerly, 12 yr old Brooke at MMS
I was rather disappointed in this book. The various parts--M.C.'s pole, the "mysterious" girl, the Killburn community--seemed contrived and disconnected. The main theme of Sarah's mountain was very good, but there wasn't enough focus. Sometimes M.C.'s "thoughts" were difficult to follow. The tense changed often & it was hard to understand the meaning of what was said. I was surprised that this won a Newbery award.
I really didn't get the point of this book. At the end of the book all the questions I had were still unresolved, and beside that, there were very few parts of it I enjoyed.
This book had not main problem that was solved, every person I ask had a different problem. One said it was that heap, others said that girl third said the pole. I say there is none!
I thought M.C. Higgins, the Great was a good book. Especially if you like adventrous books. Then you definitely should consider reading it. It's about this boy and his family who lives on Sarah's Mountain. There is a spoil heap sliding down and MC is afraid that it is gonna hit their house. So he is trying to figure out what to do.
To me M.C Higgins, the Great was an alright book if you like books about adventure, then you love this book. I couldn't really get in this book.This book was about a young boy named M.C. Higgins who's best friend was a pole. he also haves a friend called Ben who is wierd and so is his family.But you have to read if you want to know what the wierd thing is.he also meets a girl he haves a crush on, and he gets jelous because she hangs around ------ more than she hangs around M.C.
M.C. Higgins the Great was about a boy that was brave to do almosr anything. His family didn't get along with the Killburns. M.C. didn't agree with that because his bestwas Killburn. M.C. was intersing a girl that bring the dude that came to get his mother. M.C. mother could singing very well. M.C. wanted his mother to be a star singer. M.C. and his father had to build something to stop the heap from falling on their house but they diidn't know what that was going to be.
M.C. Higgins the Great was about a brave african american boy who was very brave. I had many favorite parts that was interesting to me. One of my favorite parts was when M.C. and Lurehetta jumped into the tunnel and almost drowned. Another part that I liked was the part when Mr. Kilburn and Jones were arguing and and Lurehetta didn't like the fact that they disliked people because of their religion. And thats my review of the book M.C. Higgins.