The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee

By Barry Jonsberg

Candice Phee isn't a typical twelve-year-old girl. She has more than her fair share of quirks, but she also has the very best of intentions and an unwavering determination to make sure everyone around her is happy—which is no easy feat when dealing with a pet fish with an identity crisis, a friend who believes he came from another dimension, an age-old family feud, and a sick mom. But she is on a mission. Her methods might be unique, but Candice will do whatever it takes to restore order to her world and make sure everyone is absolutely, categorically happy again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chronicle Books Digital
• Release date: Sep 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452139661

Barry Jonsberg

BARRY JONSBERG was a high school English teacher in Darwin, Australia, before he began his career as an author. His young-adult novel It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! was awarded the Adelaide Festival Award for Children’s Literature. His widely acclaimed, bestselling novel My Life as an Alphabet was adapted into the film H Is for Happiness, and a film adaptation of Catch Me If I Fall is now in the works. Barry still lives in Darwin with his wife, Anita, and their dog, Zorro.

Book preview

Author

A Is for Assignment

A is for assignment.

I’m excited. Miss Bamford is my English teacher, and she is the best English teacher in the world.

Wait. Wrong way. Go back. I haven’t personally experienced every teacher in the world (obviously). I believe in precision, so I must refine my statement. It is more accurate to say that she’s the best teacher as far as I’m concerned.

Miss Bamford is a small woman and she is between thirty and sixty years of age. I refuse to guess at ages. I asked her once, in the interest of accuracy, and she wouldn’t tell me. She wears long and shapeless dresses, so it’s difficult to tell what her body is like. But she is probably thin.

The one unmistakable thing about Miss Bamford is her lazy eye. It’s her right one, and it rolls around like it’s skating on something slippery. This lack of control disturbs many students in my class. Sometimes she shouts at a student and, given her lazy eye, it’s difficult to tell who she is yelling at. One eye dips and bobs like a maniac and the other glares at a nonspecific location.

Douglas Benson—he’s my friend in English—once said that she might have one lazy eye, but the other is hyperactive and should be on Ritalin. When I told Miss Bamford what he said, her eye fluttered about even more than normal. You might assume Douglas and I got into trouble for that. But we didn’t. I’ll tell you about it later.

The assignment.

It’s an essay. She wrote it on the board. ESSAY: Write about something that happened to you in the past.

Of course, anything that already happened must be in the past and I tried to point this out, but Miss Bamford ignored me and continued explaining the assignment. We have to write a paragraph about ourselves for every letter of the alphabet. Twenty-six paragraphs in total and each one starts with a letter of the alphabet, from A through to Z, recounting our lives. She gave us an example.

A is for Albright. I was born in Albright, which is a small town about forty kilometers from Brisbane in Queensland, Australia. Not much happens in Albright, so my birth was a cause of much celebration. People danced in the streets and there were fireworks for two nights running. Since then, the town has gone back to sleep. Or maybe it is holding its breath, waiting for me to do something else, something equally spectacular . . .

I wrote Miss Bamford’s example in my notebook. Our school is in Albright, so I suppose she was making the example relevant. But I didn’t like the way the example made false statements. I mean, no one’s birth causes that amount of excitement. It doesn’t happen, so I put my hand up to query the point. But one of the things that makes Miss Bamford such a good teacher is that she knows exactly what I’m going to ask before I ask it.

Candice, she said. In an essay, it is perfectly acceptable to play around with the truth a little. Sometimes the truth is too plain to entertain a reader, and your job in this assignment is to entertain. We’ve talked about this before, remember?

I did remember and I would have understood her point if she had been talking about a narrative. But I thought an essay had to be factual. So she should have called it a narrative essay if that’s what she wanted. I kept my hand up, but I think she didn’t see it. It’s difficult to tell with her eye. Anyway, Jen Marshall interrupted.

Yeah, shut up, Essen, she said, even though I hadn’t actually said anything.

There are several girls (and boys) in my school who call me Essen. It’s a phonetic representation of S.N., which is short for Special Needs. Many people think I have learning disabilities, but they are mistaken. I once wrote a note to Jen saying that everyone is special and everyone has needs, so her insult (because that’s what she intended it to be) is wide of the mark. She simply glared at me, chewed her gum, and ripped the note into little pieces. If I have to be honest—and I do have to be honest, it’s something I cannot avoid—then I must confess that Jen Marshall is not the sharpest tool in the shed, as Rich Uncle Brian might say. But that’s not her fault. And she is very, very pretty. So I like her. Then again, I like nearly everyone, as Mum often points out.

Quiet! barked Miss Bamford.

Sorry, Miss. Are you talking to me? said Jen, and everybody laughed. Well, not everybody. Miss Bamford didn’t. So, nearly everybody.

I went to the library at lunchtime to start my assignment. I often go to the library at recess and lunchtime because it’s peaceful and the staff makes me feel welcome. I have my own seat that the librarians reserve for me. They don’t even mind if I occasionally eat a sandwich, despite the rules saying it’s forbidden. I don’t do it often, though, because rules are important.

So I sat in my chair and thought about the assignment. A paragraph for each letter, and each paragraph portraying something about my life. Some of the letters would be difficult. Q, for example. And X. I have never had an X-ray, so that’s not in the equation. But I decided I would worry about that later. A was obviously where I should start.

But the more I thought, the trickier the assignment appeared. I wanted to tell Miss Bamford about my life, but a paragraph for each letter just wouldn’t do it. And that’s when I got my best idea.

I wouldn’t do one paragraph. I would do multiple paragraphs for each letter. I’ve written sixteen paragraphs already (not counting this one) and I’ve barely even started on my life. If this was the entire assignment, I would be up to P and no one would be any wiser about the life of Candice Phee.

See? It’s taken twenty-two paragraphs (well, twenty- two and a half) just to reveal my name. And I want to do a thorough job. Because this isn’t just about me. It’s also about the other people in my life—my mother; my father; my dead sister, Sky; my pen pal, Denille; Rich Uncle Brian; Earth-Pig Fish; and Douglas Benson from Another Dimension. These are people (with the exception of Earth-Pig Fish, who is a fish) who have shaped me, made me what I am. I cannot recount my life without recounting elements of theirs.

This is a big task, but I am confident I am up to it.

It will take time (I have plenty of that). It will take perseverance (I have plenty of that, too).

Already I am worried I have not made a proper start, so I am going to copy out the first letter I wrote to my pen pal, Denille. I make copies of all the letters I’ve sent to Denille, so I don’t repeat myself and therefore bore her.

Denille lives in America. In New York City. One of the teachers at my school received an e-mail from a teacher friend in New York asking for students interested in becoming pen pals with students in her class. It is a project to learn about different cultures.

I was matched with Denille. I have written to her twenty times in the last year. One letter every two weeks. This is the first. It tells Denille something about me, and that is good because it will also tell you something about me. It is an informative start.

Dear Denille,

My name is Candice Phee and I am twelve years old. I attend school in Albright, Queensland, a small town forty-one-and-a-half kilometers from Brisbane. I suppose you don’t know about kilometers, because Americans deal in miles. Forty-one-and-a-half kilometers is approximately twenty-six miles, I guess (I wrote I guess because I understand this phrase is exceptionally popular in the United States. See, I’m trying to connect).

So. About me. Well, I’m kinda average height for my age (kinda is another attempt at linguistic connection) and I have long, dirty-blonde hair. I don’t mean dirty in the sense that I don’t wash it, because I do. Every day. But more in the sense of its natural color which, to be honest, makes it seem as if I don’t wash it every day. Which I do.

I have freckles. All over my face and my body. I can’t go out in the sun unless I use cream with a sun protection factor of one zillion. Please understand that I am deliberately exaggerating for rhetorical effect. Dad says I should only go out in the sun when I’m wearing full body armor. He likes exaggeration as well.

I have piercing blue eyes. Some people say they’re my best feature. Actually, it’s Mum who says they’re my best feature. She says they are like cornflowers (not to be confused with corn flour, which is white and used in baking).

I used to have a sister, but she died. This turned me into an only child.

I don’t like many things that other twelve-year-olds like. Computers don’t interest me. Most music is boring. I don’t have a mobile phone because hardly anyone talks to me in real life, so why would anyone ring or text me? I only like movies that make me cry. I don’t have friends who think they are friends. Apart from Douglas Benson from Another Dimension, who I will tell you about in a later letter (see, I’m being mysterious).

What is it like being American? I only know from watching TV (another thing I’m not keen on), and it seems to me that being American must be very hard. Dad says Americans are arrogant and insular and can’t name the countries to the south or the north of them. I’m not sure this is true, but if it is, the answer is Mexico and Canada.

The TV shows I’ve watched give the impression that Americans are shallow and obsessed with image. Are you shallow and obsessed with image?

Albright is not like New York City, even if I don’t know what New York City is like. It’s a sleepy place. I’ve heard that New York City never sleeps, so we are a good match. With your town never sleeping and mine constantly sleeping, we will be like yin and yang.

Write soon. I very much look forward to hearing from you.

Your pen pal,

Candice

I never got a reply to that letter. Actually, I never got a reply to any of the letters I’ve sent (twenty and counting), and I’ve wondered about that. Either Denille has changed her address and didn’t give the postie her new one or she is too busy to write back. I suspect it’s the latter. Americans are busy people. New York Americans must be even busier. But I like to think my letters might brighten up her day, so I continue to write regardless of her lack of reciprocation.

Rich Uncle Brian says it’s probably better she doesn’t reply. He thinks this way I cannot be disappointed. It upsets him when I am disappointed.

B Is for Birth

I wasn’t there at my birth.

Well, I was, obviously, but I am an unreliable witness because I can’t remember a thing about it. So I must rely upon the reports of others who were present. It would have been wonderful if the actual witnesses to my birth

my mum

my dad (not actually a witness, as such)

Rich Uncle Brian

the midwife

had got together at some time to share their experiences. That never happened.

For one thing, the midwife was a hospital employee and may not have been available for a family discussion. For another thing, Rich Uncle Brian and my dad are no longer on speaking terms, for reasons that may (or may not) become clear. But I have spoken to all of them about it at one time or another. Well, not the midwife, obviously. I don’t even know her name, so I’ll have to leave her out, unfortunately.

A couple of years ago, I asked Mum. She was having a good day.

Mum? What was it like giving birth to me?

Mum sipped her tea and put a hand over her eyes. There was no particular reason for this, since we were sitting in the front room and the curtains were closed. Mum often has the curtains closed. The light hurts her eyes.

Your birth? It was like passing a basketball.

This puzzled me for a moment. I thought she was referring to the game where one player passes the ball to another so she can score a hoop. I think that’s what it’s called. I thought she meant it involved teamwork. I kept quiet.

What do you want to know, Pumpkin?

Mum often calls me Pumpkin for reasons that have never been made clear. What reading I have done on the subject of nicknames (not much, I have to admit) doesn’t throw a great deal of light on the enigma. Apparently, in France it is common to call someone "mon petit chou, which means my little cabbage." So it is acceptable, if you are of the Gallic persuasion, to refer to someone affectionately as a green, leafy vegetable. This is hard to understand. It is clear, however, that what with pumpkins and cabbages, people of different ethnic origins associate the world of gourdlike squashes and coleslaw ingredients with the warm and affectionate. It is strange.

Then again, many things are strange but still are. What would Jen Marshall say if I called her an asparagus or a bok choy or a kohlrabi or a Jerusalem artichoke? She would slap me. Even if I meant them affectionately. Especially if I meant them affectionately. I once asked pen pal Denille if it was the custom to show affection in the United States by referring to people as potatoes (for example) but, like I said earlier, she hasn’t replied, so I am still in the dark.

Everything, I replied.

You were a tricky delivery, Mum sighed. I was in labor for eighteen hours, and when you finally arrived I was completely exhausted. I’d sworn that I wouldn’t scream and carry on. I had done all my prenatal classes and had practiced the breathing, all the relaxation techniques. She rubbed in a distracted fashion at her brow and closed her eyes. But when the time came, all my good intentions went out the window. I screamed. I bellowed. I pleaded for an epidural. I had to fight Rich Uncle Brian for the gas and air, he was that disconcerted.

Where was Dad?

"He was in Western Australia, attending a conference for the business. You arrived early. He thought he’d be back in time. He wasn’t. Not for the actual birth. He made

Reviews for The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee

[4hounds · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It took me a bit to get into this, but by the end I was rooting for Candice. I think things wrapped up too neatly, but I liked that!

[juliez0 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received this book through the early reviewers program at librarything and thoroughly enjoyed it.This is a young adult novel, but adults will enjoy it as well. Candace is a quirky and interesting character, and her interactions with the other characters will make your middle school readers want to finish this book quickly. They will enjoy the short chapters as well - one for each letter of the alphabet. The book's humorous tone will also be a big draw.

[readhanded · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Quirky book about a girl who makes her first friend, who happens to be from another dimension, and helps put her family back together. Very enjoyable read. Kids will enjoy it - though they may want to try jumping out of trees after doing so!

[clear_tranquil · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Heartwarming and heartbreaking in equal measure, this book offers a unique insight into the The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee. Candice's unique outlook on life and the people she interacts with make for an entertaining read that at times had me laughing out loud. This is a quirky, sentimental book that everyone should make time to read.

[alienwierdos · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee" is a quick, heartwarming read. The main character, Candice, is very intelligent and is considered weird for this. She just wants to make friends and fix her dysfunctional family. Her mother is a cancer survivor who suffers from depression, her dad and uncle have an ongoing dispute about a patent, and her younger sister is dead. She has her own quirky way of looking at things, but that is what makes this story so unique. Some of the things that her and her friend Douglas talk about are hard to understand at first, but start to make more sense as the story goes along. I would recommend this book to younger readers, but it would be enjoyable for older readers too.

[wlr11 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received a copy of Barry Jonsberg's fictional novel, The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee compliments of the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program and appreciated the opportunity.The author shares the story of 13 year old Candice Phee, a girl who has spunk, spark and her own unique view of the world. The challenges of a young lady with a strong-will and the determination to bring happiness back into her family's life. Although there is plenty of humour in the book, it does share an equally somber tale of grief and loss. I truly enjoyed the titles of chapter as they followed the alphabet of Candice's path in life. All of the characters in this book have their own distinct and quirky qualities. The author has a clear understanding of the challenges of having Autism/Aspergers syndrome. He gives the reader a view of his knowledge through the lens of a young lady who does not allow her social inequities get in the way of her goals.This is a quick read for adults given that it is geared for Middle-School students. I could have easily read it all in one sitting. I would recommend for students ages 12+ and in turn, would also suggest it as a fun read for adults.

[deathsmistress · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

So this was super cute. When I read the summary of this book I thought it was going to be paranormal in some way but it's not, and that doesn't make the book any less great. Candace, the main character, is a twelve year old with numerous quirks but a good heart. Her adventures in trying to make her family whole again are not to be missed. I'd recommend this if you want something heartwarming to read.

[exploreacademy · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Candice Phee has a ton of quirks and an even quirkier family with it's share of problems. Her baby sister died of SIDS, her uncle "stole" her father's patent, her mother had cancer and is depressed, and her dad has not had a breakthrough in years. The comical story of Candice trying to save her family is worth a read. I found myself totally immersed in another person's perspective and laughed out loud more than once.

[prairiedances · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee" is a lovely book. Candice is funny, smart, and her story is engaging. While at times I did think the dialogue between Candice and her best friend, Douglas Benson From Another Dimension, was a tad bit unrealistic even for a girl who's favorite book is the dictionary, Candice was a fun protagonist. Her story is that after the death of her little sister, the financial rift between her father and uncle (who's lovingly called Rich Uncle Brian by Candice- she's very precise), and her mother's depression her family is completely dysfunctional and lost. 12-year-old Candice, who is unlike any character I've read before, tries to bring them all back together. It's a cute and heartfelt story and presents a refreshingly uncynical look at the world and human nature. I'm glad I got to read this book.I received an advanced uncorrected proof of “The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee" through librarything in exchange for an honest review.

[mypennameonly · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Before I start, it should be noted this book had been released previously in Australia under the title of “My Life as the Alphabet.” In addition, I should point out that having read/review three rock romance novels by Nicky Wells, I’ve already became adjusted to the British spelling and usage of words contained in this book, which for some readers might take a little getting used to.When I first once opened the book and flipped through the pages I immediately got transported to the first grade [or was it Kindergarten] and had a primer to read. You know what I’m talking about; A is for Apple, B is for Boy, C is for Cat.As I read the first chapter of this book, “A is for Assignment,” I immediately began to realize that you need to read as Barry Jonsberg meant it to be read. You need to read coming from the first person POV of Candice Phee herself, as she’s the one who’s actually writing this story.This came about because her teacher, Miss Bamford, had given her an assignment to write a simple essay consisting of twenty-six paragraphs with each paragraph starting a letter of the alphabet concerning something which had happened to you in the past. However, Candice, knowing she couldn’t adequately tell her story in a mere twenty-six paragraphs, decided to write several paragraphs for each letter instead; and even mentioned she’d already written sixteen paragraphs for the letter “A” at one point. And as you might suspect she already envisioned having problems with the letters “Q” and “X.”Candice’s entire family seems to be dysfunctional as her father’s despondent because a certain confrontation which had occurred eons ago; her mother’s totally depressed to do a double mastectomy and having lost a child to SIDS. Her now rich Uncle Brian uses his wealth attempting to win other people’s affection. And even though she has no idea whatsoever in terms of what she’s doing, Candice is continuously trying to fix her family’s multitude of problems on her own. It is because of this she seem to be the embodiment of being “quirky” in her personality.As we read subsequent chapter and letter of the alphabet, we see more and more of the episodic existence Candice has to endure to survive. I truly enjoyed reading this, the first of Barry Jonsberg’s books I’ve had the pleasure to read. I feel it would be best suited to be read by children aged ten or more, and in the fifth grade. While the book would be something girls would tend to read more than boys—boys should not be forgotten as part of the audience of potential readers, since some of things Candice did, boys would be usually more apt to do than girls.I believe the US title for this book is more appropriate than its counterpart in Australia and the rest of the world since it more aptly describes Candice’s world one letter of the alphabet at a time.I consider myself privileged to have received a free ARC [Advanced Reader’s Copy – Uncorrected] copy of this book, which I got as part of GoodRead’s GiveAway program. The above has been my honest opinion regardless the manner I’ve received this copy of the book. And I’m there happy to give “The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee” the 5 STARS it deserves.Robin Leigh Morgan is the author of “I Kissed a Ghost,” a MG-YA Paranormal romance novel.

[throwmud · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Thanks to LibraryThing for the uncorrected advance proof of “The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee." I found this book refreshing as it is unlike any other book I've read. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and found the main character charming. I think with the main character having such a different approach to things it encourages the reader to open their mind. I would certainly recommend it.

[heatherlinc · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This book just didn't appeal. I did not like Candice's voice at all and thought she needed bringing down a peg or two!