Gobbledy by Lis Anna-Langston #blogtour #juvenilefiction #holiday #christmas #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

Juvenile Fiction / Holiday

Date Published: 10/20/2020

Publisher: SparkPress


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Ever since Dexter and Dougal’s mom passed away, life has been
different—but things take a whole new turn when a shooting star turns
out to be a creature from outer space!

Gobbledy is a fun-filled holiday story that adds up to two brothers, three
friends, unlimited jars of peanut butter, a ketchup factory, and one little
alien far, far from home.

2021 Independent Press Awards Winner in Holiday

2021 IBPA Benjamin Franklin Awards Silver Medal Winner

2021 Book Excellence Awards Finalist in Holiday

2020 New York City Big Book Awards Winner in Holiday

2020 Wishing Shelf Book Awards Gold Medal Winner

2021 15th Annual National Indie Excellence® Awards Finalist


“Hugely entertaining as well as emotionally moving.”

―Kirkus Reviews


“This charming alien-in-the-attic story boasts engaging characters,
witty storytelling, and a furry little beast that will eat anything, all
wrapped up in a warm holiday package.”



“A delightfully entertaining novel by an author with a genuine flair
for originality and the kind of narrative storytelling style that will fully
engage the imaginative attention of appreciative young readers ages 8-11,
Gobbledy by Lis Anna-Langston . . . will prove to be an immediate and
enduringly popular addition to elementary school, middle school, and
community library collections.”

―Midwest Book Review


“In Gobbledy, Lis Anna-Langston offers her readers a sparkling novel
of discovery, adventure, and the abiding consolation of friendship . . .
Eleven-year-old protagonist Dexter’s progress from bumbling
troublemaker to triumphant (but still bumbling) hero is sweet, utterly
convincing, and thoroughly engaging. This novel’s generous heart won
me over from the get-go.”

―John Gregory Brown, acclaimed author of A Thousand Miles from





Tiny dots of stars and planets form constellations above my head. Orion. The bear. The great hunter. I’m only eleven, but I know a lot about the stars. It’s where my mom lives now. I come out on cool, clear evenings through the broken window in the attic to lie on the roof and listen for the sound of her voice.

“Dexter?” A voice whispers to the left of my head.

I look over. My little brother Dougal leans out of the window, looking first at me, then up into the sparkling sky. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrug, feeling the scratchy shingles beneath my jacket. “I like it out here.”

Dougal swings a leg through the window. Where I’m lying is the flattest part of the roof. On either side it swoops up so steep that even I won’t climb it. Dougal stops in the windowsill, letting his legs dangle. His big personality makes it easy for me to forget that he’s only eight years old. Eight and a half, he’ll point out. Still, even for someone almost nine, he looks tiny in the window with the glow of light from the attic.

When Mom was here, she spent hours in the attic, building a small replica of the town where we live. She didn’t grow up here. She said she picked this small town in Pennsylvania because, to her, it was the most magical place on Earth. Mom had answers for everything.

Maybe that’s why I spend so much time on the roof, hoping to see a sign that she’s listening.

The Cricket Colony had been Mom’s idea. Since me and my best friend, Fiona, spend so much time in the forest near our house, she’d suggested I make adventure a part of my grade. Tomorrow I turn in the crickets for my end-of-the-semester science project. Then I have to turn them loose back in the forest, where they’ll make homes under thick beds of leaves to stay warm. But I’ll miss them a lot.

Dougal shivers. “Dad was weird tonight.”

I nod. “Dad’s been weird every night for a few months now.”

Stars sparkle in the dark sky. We all want her back, even if we don’t talk about it. Instead, we talk about far-off galaxies.

My little brother points to the sky. “There’s Andromeda.”

It was Mom’s favorite, because you can see it just by lying on a roof at the end of autumn. Mom said things like, “I believe that’s a globular cluster,” and “Stars are old.” She said that when stars die, they sometimes leave a black hole behind to remind everyone they were alive once. There is definitely a hole in our family. Not a bad hole, but a big hole. The kind of hole that sneaks up on me late at night when I remember. So, sometimes, I climb out here to forget.

My walkie-talkie crackles to life on the flat space next to me. “Gamma Ray to Cosmic. Come in, Cosmic.”

Dougal leans forward, trying to get a look at the Little Dipper.

I press the button. “Cosmic here.”

“Whew. I thought you’d slipped into another dimension.”

“Hardly. I’m up on the roof.”

Fi is quiet a second; then she says, “Any signs yet?”

“Nope. But sometimes these things take a while.”

“Speaking of taking a while, I gotta wake up super early to finish my project, so I gotta get some sleep.”

“Got a title yet?”

She laughs. “Nope.” A second passes. “Tell Dougal I said goodnight, and I’ll be out back in the morning.”

Dougal softly yells, “Goodnight,” over my shoulder and pushes off to go inside.

Someday I want to be able to sleep under the stars without having to worry about rolling off the roof. Mom said space is full of magic, but there isn’t much magic since she left. I guess that’s just how it is sometimes. I stand up, stretching.

I’m ready for adventure. Except it’s late, and Dad hates it when I wake him up, going up and down the stairs.

I climb back through the window and look at the attic. An old sofa with a stack of books on building miniatures; a work table with the village on top; Mom’s favorite blanket; a cart full of brushes, glue, and a few big jars like the one I used to make my Cricket Colony.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash and turn.

There, blazing its way across the dark, is the most incredible falling star I’ve ever seen. It’s so close, I swear I can hear the sizzle. I know it’s a sign. I squeeze my eyes shut and make a wish.

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her two novels, Gobbledy and Tupelo
Honey have won the Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award,
Independent Press Award, Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book
Awards. Twice nominated for the Pushcart award and Finalist in the
Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner Fiction Contest and Thomas Wolfe
Fiction Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson
Review, The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review
and dozens of other literary journals. She draws badly, sings loudly, loves
ketchup, starry skies & stories with happy aliens.

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