I had one of those picture book moments last week in the midst of the Christmas wait. I was doing a not so great job at stiffling some inner rage. Everyone was hungry, but the thought of heading to the kitchen to whip something up sounded tortuous. I wanted to run out the door and keep going. Somehow, instead of flinging objects against the wall, I plopped myself down on the couch. A moment later, Fiona dropped this book in my lap. It had been on our shelf for weeks now, but I had had no desire to read it. The Horn Book Magazine reviewed it recently so I knew it was a story written in the same vein as Sarah Stewart's award winning book, The Gardener, but I was still very apathetic about opening it up. As I began to read my anger melted away. I could have just as easily been sitting in my shrink's office crying out my feelings of injustice and hurt, but instead The Quiet Place soothed my soul without the hassle and commute. The publishers rightly label it as a book about homesickness. Young Isabel moves to the midwest from Mexico. She turns to her big brother, her auntie, and her "quiet place" to ease her loneliness and regain familiarity. After my own dear mother died there is a part of me that never feels completely at home. Isabel's letters brought tears to my eyes as I read of a similar type heartache and loss. By the end, Myles had abandoned his activity and was piled on the sofa with us listening to the climactic and joyful end to Isabel's story. This book was exactly what we needed.