WIP

Dorky Postpartum Obsessiveness (I Made Wool Diaper Covers!)

2012-01-16T19:52:00.000-05:00

How's that for a groovy title? Let's see how many Google search hits I get - thinking zero. Anyhow, there's something about maternal hormones, and being on maternity leave from writing, and being a wee little bit ~~cheap~~ frugal ... and maybe a bit touched in the head.

But I got in my craw that Sweet Little Penny needed another wool diaper cover. Ok, she did need another (one Aristocrat doesn't cut it), but did I really need to make it myself? Did I?

Of course I did! Don't be silly!

I looked at some instructions online, trolled GoodWill for 100% wool sweaters, and set to work. The outcome:

Three super cute wool soakers. Surprisingly, two are too big (the blue ones), which leaves us with my all-time favorite cover ever ever ever:

Perhaps I went a bit overboard with the custom-dyed wool moon and star appliqued on the bum. But doesn't this sweetie deserve the best?

Of course she does!

Websites with good instructions:
The Sewing Dork on making Longies - I made some important alterations to the pattern - to be detailed in a later post. If I get around to it.
Upcycling Wool Sweaters into Soakers

(P.S. What is a "craw" anyway?)

ER Adventures!

2012-01-10T09:36:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a day of firsts. Well, no it wasn't.

A day of seconds. But not second helpings (though we all had those too, of our delicious dinner!).

Early in the day I noticed Penny had some gunk in her eye - been there, done that. All the kids went through conjunctivitis earlier in the season. Fish had a mild case that got better in a day, Mud Pie got better quickly when she realized treatment was eye drops (oh the horror), St. Nick and Dr. D had to go the full round of eye drops, and St. Nick seems to be back to having red eyes.

But Penny ... Maybe just a clogged tear duct. We've had that before too. So I treated with a warm wash cloth and all seemed well. Except as the day wore on, her little eye got worse, until St. Nick picked her up from her late-afternoon nap and had a minor OHMYWORDSOMETHINGISWRONGWITHTHEBABY!! moment. Yup, crusty eye with a huge, oily green tear. More warm wash cloth, but this time when I looked in her beautiful little eyes, one was bright red.

Flashback eight years (almost To The Day): Little Fish, six days old, gunky eyes, red conjunctiva, trip to the med center, eyedrops and oral antibiotics (for a six-day old!), anxiety and stress, etc.

After much discussion ("Her doctor isn't in tomorrow, you don't like some of the other doctors in the practice." "But med center doctors are idiots! Remember Fish?" "We should get her started on something before it spreads to both eyes." etc.) we headed to the med center. Minimum 2-3 hour wait, they informed us, and no they couldn't expedite things for a three-week-old. A call to the other med center proved the same. And the children's hospital ER wouldn't tell us what the wait would be, but did say babies got priority.

So away we went (ok, read this like Eastman's Are You My Mother).
Onto the highway we went. Downtown to the hospital we went.

But did we get to the hospital? No, we did not. We did not get there.

Flashing blue and red lights stopped us.

Enough Eastman. We got pulled over for making a fast lane change (seriously), but a screaming baby is always helpful in these situations, plus being less than a block from the @#$#% hospital by that point, and we were soon on our way, soon at the hospital, soon in a room and, well, a little less than soon on our way home with a diagnosis of conjunctivitis and a little tube of eyedrops (and no oral antibiotics, thank you very much).

The whole adventure was like Fish's illness years ago, but different. One major difference, far less stress and worry. One of the benefits of being on Baby #4. Speaking of, time for little darling's mid-morning snack, not to be confused with elevensies or lunch and certainly not with afternoon tea (babies being a lot like Hobbits).

Penny From Heaven

2011-12-24T10:36:00.000-05:00

This time last week ...

Sunday morning ...

December 18th. 8 lbs 3 oz, 21"

Sweet Baby Girl

A light, a blessing, a promise ...

Much anticipated and much loved.

Our Penny from Heaven ...

A (Depressing) Holiday Classic

2011-12-02T14:33:00.008-05:00

The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen. Putnam, 1987 (illus.).

This was one of my favorite picture books as a child. In the late 80s I was an older child—8ish. Anyway, I so felt for the little girl’s plight. I loved her sad courage, her imagination, and her escape at the end.

Reading it now though, it’s very sad. If this were my child’s favorite book, I might be worried.

Grumpy Pregnant Lady Gripes about Doctors

2011-11-29T17:19:00.001-05:00

Picture it. Almost eight years ago I'm much like I am now. Huge, pregnant, gearing up for a hospital delivery. Oh, and add in a nasty head cold that just won't go away. Three weeks before baby I go in for an office visit hacking and sniffing. "I think my cold has morphed into something wretched," I say. "Uh huh," says the doctor. "We'll want to keep an eye on that."

Two weeks before baby I go in for an office visit hacking so hard my stressed bladder can hardly handle it. "I really think this cold has taken a turn ..." "Yup, we'll keep an eye on it. Try Sudafed."

One week before. "I think I have a sinus infection, maybe." I'd never had one before, but the reading I'd done online sure pointed to sinus infection. "Huh, have you tried Sudafed?"

I go in for the induction afraid to take my Sudafed - what if I'm not "supposed to" take medications? After I get there I ask the nurse, "Could I get some Sudafed?"

It takes two hours for one half-power dose. By which time I'm an hour and a half away from giving birth and more intent on crying and hacking between contractions. Fast forward. Baby born, healthy, I'm coming out of that "labor haze" where the mind doesn't quite work right. I'm trying to feed Fish but have to pass him off to Dr. D to hack and spit green glop into a tissue. To the first nurse who comes in I say, "I really think I have a sinus infection." She explains how my mucus isn't the right color.

The next nurse tells me a nasty cold is going around and I shouldn't worry.

The next nurse asks rather curtly if I really want her to call a doctor up from ER to deal with me.

The next nurse makes me tea and explains how sinus infections always have fever and I don't have a fever. I forget to point out the regular doses of Tylenol I've been taking for afterpains.

I go home with Little Fish and begin hacking up blood instead of mucus. I call the doctor's office. "Um, I'm coughing up blood." "Oh, it's probably just an aftereffect of birth."

I don't sleep at night, even when the baby sleeps. I start to imagine infection bugs coursing through my neural pathways. On Saturday I comment, "This is the kind of thing that killed people ages ago." Sunday evening I have Dr. D call the doctor on call. The gist of the conversation: "Call in an antibiotic for my wife. Now."

Two days later I feel better than I had in a month.

So why is this little story coming back to me now? Because I'm again two or three weeks away from giving birth, again hacking and congested and feverish and feeling awful, again dealing with office staff who refuse to believe that I know what the f@rk is going on with my own body. The only difference, sinus infections have been a regular thing over the past seven years. I know what they feel like, and I know that when a cold "goes away" only to return the next day with fever and cement behind my eyes, I need what I need. Plus I don't care about the rules and regulations anymore. I happen to have an antibiotic in my medicine chest for just such an occasion. And you know what? Even though the nurse says, "We think you need an office visit for this," I can shrug and take the drug I need. By the time of my next office visit I should be feeling better than I have in, well, weeks.

Portrait of a Grumpy Pregnant Lady

2011-11-09T14:32:00.000-05:00

I'm deep in the third trimester, I can tell. I spend much of my day feeling annoyed for no particular reason. Oh, I find reasons - the mail being late, clothes left on the floor, no healthy snacks in the house (because I ate them already), rain on the carpet of leaves outside, the dog breathing too loudly. Truth is, I'd be annoyed even if I didn't have to stand sideways to empty the dryer (for example). It's just that point in pregnancy - one I've reached three times before.

The difficulty now is that, when I'm grumpy (which is always), I feel pretty d@rn justified. So if the lady in a hurry in the parking lot speeds through the crosswalk because she doesn't want to wait for the Waddling Wonder and her three kids, well, I might do something a bit rash - say something unpleasant to her closed window. You know, something effective and mature.

My task over the next 5 weeks and two-ish days is to avoid ruining all my relationships. My thoughts go something like: no, don't tell the librarian she's a soulless bureaucrat out to exercise her artificial power to mask her own sense of inadequacy, so what if that guy ahead in line walked faster, Dr. D has only one more trip scheduled before baby - no need to rub in (again) that he'll be missing St. Nick's first band concert.

And wouldn't you know, while writing this the dismal rain quit, the sun emerged, and a ferocious wind is picking up - perfect for drying those unraked leaves. See? Does it really matter that some little vermin is munching away in the wall beside my desk? Does it? Ok, put the sledge hammer down ....

Long Lost Rug

2011-11-02T13:21:00.001-04:00

When was the last time I took a photo of my rug-in-progress? Before the finger break, I think. Anyhow, here it is. I'm probably about one third of the way through. Far enough to realize I'll need a two-inch border to tie it all together.

Surprise, surprise - I like it so far. I especially enjoy the meditative act of hooking. Yesterday evening I put on a relaxation track that normally puts me to sleep and hooked. I finished feeling refreshed, relaxed. So in that sense, the doing is more important than the final product.

Enough procrastination! (Taking pictures of my rug, hooking my rug, mowing the lawn, more hooking, writing this post ...) Back to revision.

Picture Book of the Month: In November by Cynthia Rylant

2011-11-01T10:00:00.008-04:00

In November by Cynthia Rylant. Harcourt, 2000.

Prose, but superbly poetic language. Take the very first page:

“In November, the earth is growing quiet. It is making its bed, a winter bed for flowers and small creatures. The bed is white and silent, and much life can hide beneath its blankets.”

A lovely metaphor that is vivid and gentle and fully accessible for any child. This continues throughout—trees are sticks and bones, spreading their arms like dancers; berries are the winter birds’ treasures; food smells orange. The story comes back to the bed image in the last line:

“...the world has tucked her children in, with a kiss on their heads, till spring.”

Beautiful, tender illustrations, a gorgeous book.

Something on which to FEED (by MT Anderson)

2011-10-28T13:51:00.002-04:00

Feed by M.T. Anderson. Candlewick, 2004.

In this futuristic novel by acclaimed M.T. Anderson, a stream of information virtually identical to the Internet (including banner ads) is accessed through a direct implant in the brain. This feed is integrated with the limbic system; it can read an individual’s desires, tastes and pleasures so suggested products will be sure to satisfy. Of course, nothing ever fully satisfies, since there is always more to buy, as the corporations (who run the feed, and the schools, and the government to a large degree) ensure. And if one person’s feed fails, his or her brain may fail as well.

All at once hysterical, sarcastic, poignant, this book eclipsed mere story and became social commentary. It’s about a young man’s coming into awareness of the feed’s hold, and his struggle against that hold due to a romantic relationship with a very non-traditional girl—one who resists the feed, and is in danger of being destroyed by it.

Some items of note:

Worldbuilding: “It was at least good to get out of the hotel, because most of the rest of the city had pretty good artificial gravity, so if you dropped things, at least they fuckin’ fell. It was almost like normal, which is how I like it” (8). Here Anderson’s worldbuilding comes into the spotlight; he weaves details of his universe perfectly into the narrative. Every sentence is in voice, every fact giving insight into character. Even the first line, “We went to the moon to have fun, but the moon turned out to completely suck,” shows that it’s still our own world—they went to the moon for Spring Break—but it’s very much different.

Unit! The moon for spring break!

Characterization: The protagonist Titus - here’s a guy who has a bad attitude, but because he’s surrounded by total boneheads and has this deep, creative way of viewing the world, he’s sympathetic. He’s with friends, but isolated, misunderstood. Who hasn’t felt that way? So even when he’s a prat and we hate it, Anderson makes us understand him, so we sympathize. He feels things too deeply, yet he doesn’t have anyone in his life who has shown him how to express these depths because everyone around him is basically a bonehead. This makes all the difference.

Without a doubt a fabulous, challenging story. Of all M.T. Anderson’s works (of which I’ve read almost all), Feed could easily be my favorite.

Saturday Morning Surprise!

2011-10-22T12:03:00.001-04:00

No, I don't mean the baby. I found an email in my in-box, a reply to a submission from a few months ago. My brain being what it is these days (made of marshmallows), I had no idea what I'd sent where - a reason to keep good submission records - so I braced myself for a "Thanks but No Thanks."

What did I find but, "I am pleased to accept 'Wood' for publication in Volume 3, Issue #1 of The Medulla Review, due out on November 1, 2011."

A bit about The Medulla Review from their website:

The Medulla Review is a literary journal that caters to experimental and surreal writing, a place in the hindbrain where breathing, swallowing, and circulation are done through words, a venue for those who believe in creating reality. We want to hear your voices. What jars you? What makes you dance on the staircase of your mind? It's about the core of things, getting down to the essence: that soft center of being and experience where you are free.

Oooh, it sends shivers up my spine! As have a number of the poems and stories they've published like LL Bledsoe's "The Babies." When I found The Medulla Review I ended up losing much of a week just reading the back issues online. Delicious, and a number of Pushcart Prize nominees among their authors as well. What a privilege to see my little byline beside the rest of their superb contributors!

Since "Wood" is a story for adults, the byline will go to an alter ego. I think. Maybe. I'm still doing some soul-searching on whether I want to invent another author identity or stick with the less-than-sexy Rebecca Grabill. Hmmm. All advice on this tricky topic welcome.

Top Things NOT on My To-Do List Today

2011-10-18T16:16:00.000-04:00

That I did anyway:

Learn how to export a Quicktime, 30 fps, 640x360, MP4 without sound from iMovie.
Figure out how to generate jpeg stills from aforementioned video clip.
Start writing a play set in ancient Japan.
Break out my dreamy Townsend to cut five billion (seriously) wool wormies.
Cook green and yellow wool.
Color plan the foreground of my rug.
Upload artistic nudes to iStockphoto.
Draw a suicidal snowman with Adobe Illustrator.

A New Game For Pregnancy: Name That Bump!

2011-10-10T17:03:00.001-04:00

Thirty weeks puts me in the final countdown, and tosses me into the number one recreational activity of expectant mommies, Name That Bump! Toward the end of every pregnancy I've tried (and failed) to figure out exactly which way little peanut was sitting in the womb. With Fish the doctor told me around 28 weeks that he was transverse, which explained the odd recurring dream I'd been having: racing down a road, out of control, desperately needing to turn around. I did some relaxation/visualization, even though I thought at the time it was a whole lot of pooey, and sure enough, he thunked into position.

This little girl is a tricky bugger. Every kick and swoosh I feel below the belly button, which could mean breech. But I also feel hiccups low in the belly, so maybe not breech. I've squished and prodded and wondered, "is that an elbow or a knee?" more times than I'd care to admit, without gaining any great insight.

For now I'm assuming she's doing what her big sister did and folding herself in half with her tootsies up by her forehead. It's not like she has a lot of space in there. If she did she wouldn't be forcing me into such good posture. Even a hint of a slump and there's a bowling ball under my ribcage!

I'm also trying to celebrate the beauty of expectancy, while making use of this fabulous summer-like October and the golden light. Photo cross-posted at my photo-blog.

Good Kids Rock

2011-10-04T09:18:00.001-04:00

Dr. D travels a lot during the fall - prime time for academic conferences and other such ~~nonsense~~ activities (since he's a Doctor of Ideas, not a medical doctor).

Mornings without Dr. D can be a little crazed. Who makes the coffee? Who urges the kiddos to hurry up, get things together, don't forget ... ? And if I happen to have an appointment in the morning, who on earth is going to take care of things so I can get ready to go? I may drop the kiddos at school uncombed and unwashed (that's me unkempt, not them), but an OB visit is altogether different.

What to do. This time I charged St. Nick with the words, "I'm taking a shower. Make sure Fish and Pie eat breakfast, ok?" "Ok, Mom." "Really, they need to eat and so do you." "OK, Mom." "And you all have to be done by the time I'm done." "OK, MOM!!"

Ok, so I headed up to the shower, and came down a few minutes later to find everyone fed and quietly getting their bags packed, and this waiting for me on the counter:

I couldn't have wished for a better morning, or a tastier breakfast! Thanks to my great good kid!

Halloween Picture Books: A Scary-Big Compilation

2011-10-01T01:16:00.001-04:00

Wow, there's a lot of these! I'm sure it would be helpful if I put the titles in alphabetical order or some such thing, but where'd be the fun in that? An almost exhaustive list, or an exhausting list. Either works.

You'll notice I list whether a book is rhyming, and if it's a twisted classic (i.e., retelling of some sort).

Cinderella Skeleton by Robert D San Souci. Harcourt, 2000.
Rhyming, Twisted Classic

The art is A++. The book, however ... The story doesn’t twist the tale or take it to a higher plane of creativity, it just changes details of Cinderella to make it Halloween. Rhyme is occasionally forced/reliance on near-rhyme. But the pictures. Oh my word, creepy and stunningly beautiful.

Monster Museum (2001) & Creature Carnival (2004) by Marilyn Singer. Hyperion.

Rhymed poetry

Volumes of monster-themed poetry, all rhyming and sing-song. The poems aren’t quite as novel as Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich, nor do they have a story arc or irony. And they’re not as fun or gross as Sipping Spiders Through a Straw. As poems, they’re cute and straightforward. Fun, cute, and equally straightforward art.

The Monster Trap by Dean Morrissey. HarperCollins, 2004.

Again, Holy Illustrations! Beautiful, detailed, emotionally rich, sensuous, full of mood and movement. Love love love to look at this book. Reading it ... there’s a decent arc to the story, but the writing is rather unadorned. Perhaps a good pairing, since the focus is the art, but the beauty is without a doubt in the art, not the words.

Spooky Hour by Tony Mitton. Orchard, 2003.
Rhyming concept book

I was a bit surprised that the word “spooks” made it past the content editors. But it’s, oddly, a counting book. Sort of. With decent rhyme at the start that falters a bit. There’s no arc to the story, but as said, it's a counting book. The art is fun with a Sendak feel (the little boy looks a bit like Max from Where the Wild Things Are), but light and very non-threataning. This is one unlikely to give a kiddo nightmares, and as a counting book, that's a big Horray!

There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Bat by Lucille Colandro. Scholastic, 2002.
Rhyming twisted classic

First, the art in this and Colandro's other "Old Lady" spins is just fabulous. So funny and full of movement and life. This particular story is a Halloween take-off on “There Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly,” but I'm not sure it works as well as her others. The rhyme isn't as unexpected or natural as I'd like; the story, quite honestly, seemed like a "formula" filled too quickly and with too little thought. Yes, this series has been fun, but that doesn't mean it should be easy/shoddy.

Darkness Slipped In by Ella Burfoot. Kingfisher, 2007.
Rhyming

Another author-illustrator book, with major emphasis on illustration. Personified Darkness sneaks into Daisy's room, but rather than hide in fear, Daisy invites him to dance. A solid story arc, but less-than-inspired rhyme. I love the simplicity and contrast of the illustrations, plus the tactile feel of the book - slippery-smooth Darkness against the somewhat matte paper.

I Need My Monster by Amanda Noll. Flashlight Press, 2009.

Many in the early part of this list have to-die-for illustrations. I Need My Monster is no exception. Pixar-like illustrations, a delight for the eyes. The story itself is about a child who can't sleep without the favorite monster, Gabe. A fun twist on the Knuffle Bunny theme. Overall, decent voice, decent plot, decent premise. Downside for a read-aloud (particularly before bed): heavy on the text.

The Zombie Nite Café by Merrily Kutner. Holiday House, 2007.
Rhyming

Ok, this is a tiny rant. Very small, it will soon be over, promise. Here goes: I HATE LOATHE DESPISE books that show kids being required to keep frightening secrets or are told that no one would believe them anyway!!!! HATE!!!! Ok, on to the book itself, adorable illustrations, cute premise, but rhyme doesn't have to be this hard. Rather it shouldn't look this hard, with twisted syntax and tangled logic. Perhaps some rhythmic prose would have been a better choice for this story?

Eek! Creak! Snicker, Sneak by Rhonda Gowler Greene. Atheneum, 2002. Rhyming

Solid rhythm and form at the start. It does falter a bit as the story moves on, but given the cute illustrations, I'd overlook it. There’s no protagonist, however, so it's hard to feel emotional connection with the story. It feels cold and somewhat distant. Even the Bugaboos (such a great idea!) lose some of their wonderful dimensionality as the story progresses.

Three Little Ghosties by Pippa Goodhart. Bloomsbury, 2007.
Rhyming twisted classic

I LOVE the risks Pippa took with language, but without form and consistency the story was virtually impossible to read aloud no matter how many times I tried. I wanted to love it, I really did, and Pie (my reading assistant during this project) loved the idea of the little ghosties, and adored the art, but I just couldn't get past the stumbly, tumbly rhythm. A better reader may find this a favorite. It's certainly clever, cute, surprising, and makes full use of the beauty of language. Not to mention fun to look at.

Sheep Trick or Treat by Nancy Shaw. Houghton Mifflin, 1997.
Rhyming

Ok, the Sean The Sheep-flavor illustrations killed me. Sheep looking menacing and evil? HAHA! Love it. The rhythm skips about a bit, but the rhyme is often engaging. These are some creative sheep - I can see little kiddos reading this story and going into the dress-up bin to make their own costumes. Or into the bathroom cupboard for rolls of bathroom tissue to mummify themselves (ok, maybe that's just what my kiddos would do).

Scary, Scary Halloween by Eve Bunting (Pics by Jan Brett). Clarion, 1986.
Rhyming

And who said rhyme was "out" in publishing? I'll eventually do the math (hey, I took statistics), but I'd guess a perty high percentage of these books are written in rhyme. This one too. There is a surprise at the end: the kitties are watching the Trick-or-treaters! Cute, but Brett’s pictures just aren’t as detailed and delicious as they usually are. No borders, for example. I still love to linger in her artwork, just not as much as some of her other books. And, in case you were worried, this book isn't scary.

Big Pumpkin by Erica Silverman. Simon & Schuster, 1992.
Rhyming

Much use of interior rhyme (sat, drat), but a little loose on logical flow. It’s cumulative, about a witch growing a pumpkin. It gets big. As the title might foreshadow! The art stands on its own with a very spooky mood, but enough fun and frivolity to not scare the kiddos. Too much.

What’s That Noise by William Carman. Random House, 2002.

The focus of this book is clearly the art. Which is lovely. But as a writer, my focus is on the text. A bit disappointing, yet the art does make for a lovely book.

City Witch, Country Switch by Wendy Wax. Cavendish, 2008.
Rhyming

Witchy cousins learn to appreciate one another. The cousins come up with an interesting and clever solution to the country/city problem (involving fun spells!), but the rhyme ... Hmmm. Wax's free and fun illustrations are clever and enjoyable, making this book a surprisingly fun read for little witch-loving fashionistas. It's almost Fancy Nancy or Princess Whatever, but Halloween.

Very Brave Witch by Alison McGhee. Simon & Shuster, 2006.

I found this one a little confusing, but maybe I'm just especially slow. Possible. Witches are afraid of humans because they’re not green, and humans are afraid to fly ... and this all relates how? Sweet illustrations, and I do love the text bubbles - great for emerging readers to try to sound out while the story is being read aloud.

The Three Bears’ Halloween by Kathy Duval. Holiday House, 2007.
Twisted Classic

Alas, no picture for this one. Too bad. The story starts nicely, with setting and a distinct time and place—very grounded. I loved how the bears went trick-or-treating and got berries and honey. Then comes the Goldilocks twist, the repetition, but it’s all in service of the punch line. The three bears scare Goldilocks accidentally because they think her house is haunted. It’s a twisted classic but I might have liked more twist.

I’m Not Afraid of This Haunted House by Laurie Friedman. Carolrhoda, 2005.
Rhyming

I had a little rhyme written about the rhyme in this book, but it, uh, wasn't nice. Let's just say rhyme is hard, and some books make it look hard. Another “Punch line” book—he’s not scared of the haunted house with all it’s icky, scary, almost too-gross stuff (swimming in Dracula’s pool of blood? Ewwwwww!), but is scared of a mouse. I do love the fun and zany illustrations. So Halloween.

What’s That Noise? by Michelle Edwards and Phyllis Root. 2002.

This one is cute with an easy, flowing voice, adorable pictures, strong storyline. Not much else to say, except Phyllis Root is one of my favorite people ever. She teaches in the Hamline MFA program, did you know that? She's brilliant, a picture book goddess, and just all-around lovely. Oh, and her books are fabulous too.

The Ghost of Nicholas Greebe by Tony Johnston. Dial, 1996.

I the voice is fluid and the story cute. Fun to read. It has a lovely antiquated feel with a refrain and clever storyline (A ghost vows to haunt the house until his bone is found, which it is, most delightfully). The pen and ink illustrations add to the story and to that feel of Classic Ghost Story. A delight.

Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich by Adam Rex. Harcourt, 2006.
Rhyming

An anthology of horrific poetry loaded with irony and a subtle plot thread involving the Phantom of the Opera. Dracula with spinach in his teeth was FUNNY. All around clever and enjoyable book. Oh, and did I mention the illustrations? Detailed, unexpected, total fun.

The Mystery of Eatum Hall by John Kelly and Cathy Tincknell. Candlewick, 2004.

There is great dramatic irony here - the illustrations are constantly doing something the narrative is not - and the voice worked. Funny and fun.

Most Loved Monster by Lynn Downey. Dial, 2004.

Funny with twists and turns on everyday things. I like how monsterness is normalized and I love the touching, tender ending. The prose uses repetition, but not a lot of rhythm. Still, unique and well-illustrated.

Who is Your Favorite Monster, Mama? by Barbara Shook Hazen. Hyperion, 2006.

Compared to the book above, monsterness is not done nearly as well. The story is sweet, very different from what you expect (the above was more “traditional”), but why are they monsters? Just to be monsters. To dress up an otherwise plain storyline in monster clothing.

Wake the Dead by Monica A Harris. Walker and Company, 2004.

Lots of “dead” puns with a solid and enjoyable voice, but when is enough enough, vs. too much? I felt this one could have been stripped a bit for more punch, because as is, it's a bit too punchy. Ah, the irony!

Where’s My Mummy? by Carolyn Crimi. Candlewick, 2008.
Rhyming

Some of it rhymes and it uses the same “I’m not scared” motif that’s ubiquitous in these books. It even has the same “scared of a mouse” at the end. It’s similar to Eastman’s classic Are You My Mother? but it’s not a parody. A parody might be more fun, in my opinion. So I guess I’ll write it!

The Halloween House by Erica Silverman. FS&G, 1997.
Rhyming twisted classic

A Halloween version of “Over in the Meadow.” The text is lovely. Clever, well-done rhyme that could have made it a classic. But the illustrations: they WRECKED what would otherwise be a very cute and successful book. Taking this classic and overlaying a fully artificial and fully silly burglar story? Nonononon! That there is horror enough. The illustrator should be shot. The author should shoot him.

Under the Bed by Paul Bright. Good Books, 2004.
Rhyming

It’s a cumulative tale! How clever! It had an air of adult “talking” which would be interesting to investigate at some future point. For now, solid story with cute illustrations.

Mr. Beast by James Sage and Russell Ayto. Henry Holt, 2004.

Again, no image available. But great voice, wonderful flow. Only ... the beast is Charlie’s dad! That was disappointing to me the adult reader, but I don't expect a child would feel quite so cheated.

The Little Old Lady Who was Not Afraid of Anything by Linda Williams. HarperCollins, 1986.

Lots of repetition, a turn at the end. Fun! I enjoyed the Old Lady's ever-growing fear, then the surprise of her turning the ghost into a scarecrow—clever.

The Teeny-Tiny Woman by Paul Galdone. 1984.

So this was a fave of mine as a child. Bias aside, I love the repetition of the sounds “teeny-tiny”—everything is so teeny tiny! How fun! And the mystery of the bone/ghost coming for his bone. It’s just chilling enough to make a child gleeful, but not so horrifying it leads to nightmares.

Jitterbug Jam: A Monster Tale by Barbara Jean Hicks. FS&G, 2004.

A great, wonderful, incredible voice in this one and I want to love it, but it’s just so long. A little simplification could have tightened up the otherwise brilliant, risky, unusual tale. Fabulous rhythm.

Cat Nights by Jane Manning. Greenwillow, 2008.

Nice voice and rhythm here, flows beautifully, easy to read aloud. The storyline is compelling and in the end the little witch follows her heart, which I love. This one is a treasure and surprisingly satisfying, plus the super-sweet illustrations. A fabulous non-frightening Halloween tale.

Sipping Spiders Through a Straw: Campfire Songs for Monsters by Kelly DiPucchio.
Rhyming twisted classic

These classic kids’ songs are twisted into a scary sampler. They’re fun, but few tell stories the way the original songs did. Still, clever and incredibly enjoyable to sing/read. The rhythm/rhyme is dead on the whole time. No pun intended.

Wizzil by William Steig. FS&G, 2000.

I LOVE the voice. And the story is cute. But what would you expect from William Steig?

Vunce Upon a Time by Jotto Seibold & Siobhan Vivian. Chronicle, 2008.

Great premise: a vegetarian vampire who loves candy! He has to dress up for Halloween but can’t think of anything frightening. There is a sold beginning, middle, end, but quite a few little side plots. Text heavy and a bit long to read aloud. Clever, however, and super cute.

Halloween Night by Marjorie Dennis Murray. Greenwillow, 2008.
Rhyming twisted classic

“The Night Before Christmas” for Halloween! How fabulous! And the ghouls scare away the trick-or-treaters by accident which makes it the best Halloween party yet. I would have liked a stronger story arc, but with the fun illustrations, this one is a winner.

The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt (illus: Tony DiTerlizzi). Simon & Shuster, 2002.
Rhyming twisted classic

Stunning. The writing is clever and beautiful, the rhyme smooth, the form precise, the story compelling and full of irony and surprises, the illustrations vivid and deliciously creepy. This is art.

Goodnight Goon: A Petrifying Parody by Michael Rex. Putnam, 2008.
Rhyming twisted classic

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. But my kids didn’t get what was so funny. Clear to adults, it’s a parody of Brown’s classic Goodnight Moon and is wonderfully done.

Lucy Dove by Janice Del Negro. DK, 1998.

I’m not sure why I love this so much. The language is vivid and unique (laird vs. lord), the story is truly terrifying, and Lucy Dove acts and escapes all on her own. I love that it's a retelling of a great Celtic myth, love the eerie and ethereal art, I just love it.

The Teeny Tiny Ghost and the Monster by Kay Winters. HarperCollins, 2004.
Rhyming

From the first page the illustrations captivated me. I love the rumpled, creepy little ghouls! I want one of my own!

Here, one tiny ghost is bullied by the bigger ghosts - told he can't make a scary monster for the upcoming art contest. He finds a unique solution (he makes a Funny monster instead of a scary one!), but the ending feels somewhat unearned. He wins, but why?

The Pumpkin Goblin Makes Friends by Melinda Clements. Emerald Book Co., 2008.
Rhyming

The mean pumpkin goblin is redeemed by friendship. I wonder who this book is about: Fred or the town? There's a certain muddiness to characterization, unlike, say, Bateman's Plump and Perky Turkey. Yet I enjoyed the surprising redemptive motif.

Interestingly, I found no info on the illustrator. There's a contrast of textures, bold clean lines like vector art, but with a heavy use of texture fills and transparencies. Hmmm.

Halloween Goodnight by Doug Cushman. Henry Holt, 2010.
Rhyming

How do monsters say goodnight? The repetition aids the rhyme while providing a solid structure, and the friendly illustrations give just a touch of fright without being truly scary. A sweet, bedtime read aloud.

My only complaint: why is the Mummy language not transliterated? There's a book, How the Amazon Queen Fought the Prince of Egypt, that has true phrases in hieroglyphics, with pronunciations below. How much more fun to learn to say goodnight in "Egyptian" than just see symbols that may or may not mean "goodnight"?

Halloween Hats by Elizabeth Winthrop. Henry Holt, 2002.
Rhyming

Happy, Steig-like illustrations with a surprise ending. Up until the final pages it seems like a simple list of hats. It could be illustrated as Halloween, or anything at all. Then there's a hat-switching game at a Halloween party. The illustrations tell their own story - getting ready for Halloween night - and move beyond the text. Surprising and nice.

Black Cat Creeping by Teddy Slater. Sterling, 2004.
Rhyming

A very early picture book with sweet text, much of which Mud Pie could read on her own (though still not all - so it's best as a read-aloud for a 2-4 yr old).

The illustrations, however, don't seem to match the text. Drawings show a five or six-year-old, but the text is clearly better for a much younger child. Odd.

Here they Come! by David Costello. Farrar Straus Giroux, 2004.
Rhyming

The first page is quite text heavy, but after that hiccup, the pacing is smooth. In this story, the monsters are gathering for a Halloween party, but the punch line? The scariest creatures of all are the humans out trick-or-treating! A nice turn, and less punch-line driven than other similar books. The rhyme had uneven moments, but the illustrations are cute, the story interesting. A fun book.

Bone Dog by Eric Rohmann. Roaring Brook Press, 2011.

First off, the design of this book is absolutely stunning. I love the vellum overlay on the first page, the matte pages, the bold and simple illustrations. The story matches up. Little Gus loses his dog, but meets up with her again on Halloween night. The skeletons aren't scary, the twist at the end is funny. A delightful and fully successful book.

Shake dem Halloween Bones by W. Nikola-Lisa. Scholastic, 1997.
Rhyming

I LOVE the musical rhythm and rhyme of this book! I want to pull all three of my kiddos over and read it to them, and the illustrations are zany, wild, 100% fun. The author incorporates fairy tales into the Halloween costumes, all the characters coming together to dance at the Hip-Hop Halloween ball. Unique.

Heebie-Jeebie Jamboree by Mary Ann Fraser. Boyds Mills, 2011.

The artwork is lovely, and the story: Daphne loses her little brother Sam at a Halloween party, is cute and well thought out. Lots of fun details from foods: BBQ Bat wings to Sam getting lost in a room of ghosts, all dressed exactly like him. The story could be a little scary for siblings (maybe a "stay together" cautionary tale?), but all ends up well enough. Beautiful artwork, clean prose.

Scardey-Cat, Splat! by Rob Scotton. Harper 2010.

The title implies a cat that becomes roadkill, but surprise surprise! Another book about a scariest-whatever contest! This time it's a costume. Splat breaks his broom so dresses up as a spider, just like the scary spider he finds on page one, puts in a jar, and insists on bringing to school. Wouldn't you know, Splat ends up becoming scary when his jack-o-lantern falls on his head. The spider that seemed to be the driving force of the story? Huh? What spider? Loved the artwork. Story does what it needs to do.

Halloween Sky Ride by Elizabeth Spurr. Holiday House, 2005.
Rhyming

First impression: great art. Vector-ish, but free and fun. The rhyme is surprisingly surprising, with clever little puns and jokes woven throughout. The story itself is fun: Witch Mildred heads to the Witches' Wobble for a party and picks up other creatures on the way. Only they arrive late, missing the food, so must trick-or-treat instead. Then they head home. Satisfying and unexpected.

The Story of the Halloween Jack O'Lantern by Katherine Tegan. Harper, 2010.

Mean Mr. Jack makes a pact with the devil and is cursed by wandering the earth forever in the form of a grinning pumpkin. Ok, this is a little creepy for me. I remember the tale of the Headless Horseman freaked me out severely as a child, and this book could easily have done the same. The illustrations are likewise creepy. Beautiful, but eerie. I do like the story, and the writing is crisp and clear, but *shivvvveeerrrr*! Spooky!!!

One thing I didn't get - why did the font size suddenly increase on the penultimate page?

Haunted Party by Iza Trapani. Charlesbridge, 2009.
Rhyming, counting book

Love the detail and cuteness of the illustrations. They lend a frightening air without being scary. Perfect pairing since this is a concept book to teach counting. Clever and cute, with the well-known monsters-gather-at-a-party motif. When the trick-or-treaters come to the door I expected the usual punchline of "the monsters are scared!" But nope, the kiddos run away. Pleasantly surprising.

Minerva Louise on Halloween by Janet Morgan Stoeke. Dutton, 2009.

Simple, clean illustrations match the clean and unadorned text. Minerva Louise (the chicken) watches Halloween preparations with a silly way of misinterpreting all she's seeing. She ends up joining in the festivities, all along not knowing she's celebrating Halloween! Delightful, wonderful visual irony.

On a Windy Night by Nancy Raines Day, illus. by George Bates. Abrams, 2010.
Rhyming

LOVE and adore the illustrations! So much texture, yet simple, evocative. The story is on the scary side, and the pictures are so mesmerizing, they add to the fear. The clickity-clack noises end up being everyday objects, so all is well. A sensitive child might find this one too much. But a thrill-seeker will love it.

Queen of Halloween by Mary Engelbreit. HarperCollins, 2008.

I guess if you make your living creating cute little pictures with quaint sayings it's only a matter of time before you hit the picture book circuit. This isn't her debut book by any means, but she was artist first, author second. Which is, perhaps, why the story's moral is strong enough to knock you unconscious. The books is nostalgic, as in it has the heavy-handed bluntness of an era of picture book publishing long gone. The pictures are sweet, however. And the story itself is complete, cute, and, well, teaches something.

Ollie's Halloween by Olivier Dunrea. Houghton Mifflin, 2010.
Rhyming, sort of

Can you say CUTE? Ollie, the little gosling-costumed-as-mummy is precious beyond endurance. A sure winner for the 2-4 yr-old set. Ollie and the chicks gather treats all around the farm and scamper home to share the last pile of treats together. Sweet, simple and alliterative text. Cuddly illustrations.

Pumpkin Cat by Anne Mortimer. Katherine Tegen Books (HarperCollins), 2011.

Somewhat reminiscent of The Little Red Hen with the repetition of "So they did." But here the cat and mouse work together to plant pumpkins. Tender, but it seems a lot like one of those leveled readers - you know, the ones with the numbers 1-4 on them? This one would probably be a #2 (perfect for Pie or Fish!). I'll sneak it in one of their beds, where they do most of their reading. I expect both Pie and Fish will love it. Fish especially is a cat fanatic. I've promised him a kitty WITH CLAWS for Christmas, so poor velvet-pawed Ching can have a moment's peace. Dr. D thinks I don't mean it, but as the little Mouse in the story says, "Just watch."

By the Light of the Halloween Moon by Caroline Stutson, illus by Kevin Hawkes. Marshall Cavendish, 1993.
Rhyming

A cumulative tale, in rhyme, with cats and witches and ghouls and ghosts and sprites, oh my! The rhythm never falters and the turn at the end is cute. But the girl smacks the cute little sprite who was going to tickle her toe! Violence! Violence! Sound the alarms!

Uh, ok, pardon the sarcasm. I thought the book was adorable, with perfect illustrations. Just creepy enough to build tension, but not so creepy kiddos will dream of scary ghouls. Probably. And honestly, if one of my kids has a creature from the netherworld after his/her toes, I sure hope that critter gets a smack.

Boris and Bella by Carolyn Crimi, illus by Gris Grimley. Harcourt, 2004.

First thought: the illustrations creep me out. I love them, but they are sooo, I don't know, Lemony Snicket or something. The story is about the "messy" monster, Bella Legrossi (groan) and clean freak Boris Kleanitoff (double groan) who don't get along. They dance together at a halloween ball and fall in love. Sweet, fabulous details, funny, and awesomely-ewww illustrations. What's not to love?

Little Goblins Ten by Pamela Jane, illus by Jane Manning. Harper, 2011.
Rhyming, twisted classic

Over in the Meadow for Halloween. Cute, sweet illustrations, solid rhythm and rhyme, all your expected monsters, no real storyline to speak of, but there isn't one in the original Over in the Meadow, so why should there be? A small part of me is wondering where the author read *my* manuscript, which I finished (likely about the time the illustrator was getting his final drawings approved) using the same poem as a basis. But had she, there would be a plot and a few more twists and turns.

13 Nights of Halloween by Guy Vasilovich. Harper, 2011.
twisted classic

12 Days of Christmas for Halloween. Wow, Harper is on the "remade classics" kick for 2011. This one I didn't read closely, largely because it's just halloween items replacing those in the classic Christmas song. Not a storyline of note, but the illustrations kick. No surprise the illustrator (also author) has a history with Nickelodeon, etc. Super art!

Oh, an aside: I had a little trouble finding the link on Amazon (for the image). Why? There are at least four other books with the same title and same concept! See? There's room for another "Over in the Meadow" rendition. Right?

Alice and Greta by Steven J. Simmons, illus by Cyd Moore. Talewinds (Charlesebridge), 1997.

Startlingly similar to Boris and Bella. Well, ok, not really. Same general idea: two witches see things differently. One uses fun spells (turning things to candy), and the other is more Halloweeny. And in this one, there's no falling in love at the end. Fun illustrations full of color, and strong kid-appeal with all the candy images. Made me hungry!

On that note, I'm out of books! Here are a handful more with a Halloween twist - ones I couldn't locate before exhaustion took over:

The Perfect Pumpkin Pie by Danys Cazet

Room on the Broom by Donaldson

In the Haunted House by Eve Bunting

Pumpkin Soup by Cooper

The Night Before Halloween by Wing

Skeleton Hiccups by Cuyler

Dem Bones by Bob Barner.

Moonlight the Halloween Cat by Cynthia Rylant

Pumpkin Cat by Ann Turner

Am I missing your favorite? Leave me a comment and I'll add it.

How to Be the Best

2011-09-27T11:27:00.001-04:00

I admit it, I have a competitive streak. When I check out my friends at iStockphoto, I get a bit perturbed if their downloads outpace mine. When I read a particularly banal Disney princess adaptation to Mud Pie, I think, "Good lord, a monkey could do better!" More often than not, however, I am my own prime competitor. Which is a lose-lose situation; I can never measure up to my own ideals.

As a writer, I once believed to be Real I had to face unflinchingly the dark, shadowy things on the edge of existence. There was no backing down, no escape. Happy sunshine and cute little bunnies, well, that's what those other writers did. The sentimental ones, the ones stuck on believing their childhood was happy. I saw it as my mission to stare down the darkness and make it retreat.

There's a certain similarity between winter and summer in Michigan. In winter we have a landscape of white and white and white and gray and black. Summer, it's all green. Green is lovely. Warm and shady. But it's still green.

Autumn is creeping through the forest now. For the first time all year I can see the maple trees springing out from the landscape, their sprawling arms reaching as far as they can to spread orange and yellow. The stately oak, rich brown, towers now over the goldenrod fields. An aspen, each leaf twinkling like a golden coin, glitters against the backdrop of color.

The sweetness of life is not tripe, not childishness or sentimentality. It provides contrast. Without contrast all detail is lost; sameness and boredom drift in. Four or so years ago much of my thinking had a sameness to it. Brooding, dark, cynical. Not that I wasn't "happy," but joy came in a more self-satisfied way, a feeling that I was more Real because I faced the ugly truths of the world without those abhorrent rose-colored glasses. Yet I didn't experience a joy or celebration of life and the world. On the contrary, if I happened to notice the quaking aspen, offering me its golden gift, I felt squeamish, unworthy. I didn't trust it, this fleeting beauty. With so much darkness, I should work to face it, to fight it, extinguish it! Shouldn't I?

A righteous calling, but impossible. Like trying to distinguish the maple in a forest from the oak - from two miles away. In summer, as in winter, it's hard to do. Darkness won't retreat unless I bring a little light in with me.

Dewitt Jones said in a video I watched Sunday, "if you celebrate what's right with the world, you will find the energy to fix what is wrong."

Slowly, over years, I've changed my emphasis. I no longer want to be the Best In The World, competing and losing against my scathing inner critic, judge, hangman. I now want to be the best for the world. This new way of thinking is liberating, healing.

During the MFA we talked a lot about the aboutness of a story. The central thrust, the take-home, the gravitas. The story I began in my mind several years ago, the one that became my creative thesis for the MFA, was once about abuse of authority, cruelty, intergenerational evil. But through re-envisioning and revision, I found a different aboutness: hope, innocence, and the triumphant power of the human spirit. The darkness is balanced by light, and the contrast makes both more meaningful.

A Visual MFA - Hamline University, 2009-2011

2011-09-24T10:15:00.004-04:00

I ran across all my Hamline pictures as I was organizing my photos ... why not share? A few are posted already (look under the MFA category over in the cloud), but these, for whatever reason, never made it up. Hmmm. Can't imagine why.

We partake in public transportation:

We have tornado drills!

We talk and stuff:

We maintain a standard of personal hygiene:

We sit around sometimes:

We listen to folktales:

We play "So Big!" with Marsha Qualey:

We play with chickens:

We play dress-up:

We plot our books:

Sometimes we yell:

We partake in musical entertainment:

We walk around a lot:

We go places:

When we come back, we relax:

We work hard! Really!

And we shake a little booty:

P.S. This is what writers do when we think no one is looking.

Fun on the Run!

2011-09-22T11:06:00.000-04:00

It was raining when I got out of the shower (at noon! Ah, love these lazy mornings). I'd promised the kiddos I would show up for the Fund Racer. But I was tired, hadn't had lunch, and it was raining.

Did I mention it was raining?

To go, not to go. I was leaning toward Not. This Fund Racer - a healthy alternative to selling candy and other fundraisers - was an unknown. I'd not been to the track neighboring the field. Where would I park?

My agoraphobia has been up a bit lately. Maybe pregnancy hormones, or fatigue (also hormones?). Whatever the reason, I'd given in on Monday and skipped the rug hooking group. Too far away, I told myself. I'd squeaked by on a phone call, sending an email instead. And I've been avoiding thinking about my prenatal visit and the always-fun glucose test ...

I realized what was going on, and got my tushie in the car. So what if it was raining? I'd just plan on getting wet.

Well. Can I just say I'm glad I went? (Oh, and the rain stopped before I pulled into the parking lot.)

I stayed all afternoon. Until my memory card filled up and I realized I was about to faint from hunger.

Book Slob

2011-09-20T09:15:00.026-04:00

No, I mean the book, Slob, by Ellen Potter. Philomel Books, 2009.

I snagged this book from the library almost entirely by random. I spotted a blue "Mystery" sticker on the spine, saw it was published within the past few years, and tossed it in the Home bag. See, I'm doing research on Middle Grade mysteries, so what better way to shop than the wonderful little blue "Mystery" sticker?

Except Slob is not really a mystery. And it's not really Middle Grade. What it is: the fabulous story of Owen Birnbaum and his struggle to make it through seventh grade faced with obesity, personal tragedy, and bullying. This kid has everything stacked against him. He's the fattest kid in school, his PE teacher hates him, and his one solace - his daily allotment of Oreo cookies - is being stolen. A bit of mystery comes in as Owen tries to smoke out the thief, but he's also hoping his new invention, Nemesis, can act as a visual time machine and show him who murdered his parents.

Yet both of these fascinating mysteries are secondary to Owen's personal struggles. He doesn't fit in, and he's still suffering from the loss of his parents. There's no strong emphasis on finding the Oreo thief or on the murder, rather the driving forces in the story are the Evil PE Teacher and the diabolical, scar-faced Mason Ragg. Will Owen be humiliated beyond endurance (the first chapter had me in tears when Mr. Wooly, the PE teacher, put Owen in a dog harness and made him flop around the mat like a beached whale)? Will Mason break out the switchblade he's rumored to carry in his sock?

The sophistication of the problems: switchblades, murder, abuse/cruelty made this book feel older than middle grade, as did the clarity with which these problems were shown. I had a hard time imagining St. Nick (5th grade) reading it, for example, and not finding it emotionally overwhelming. Goodness, even I found it overwhelming at times. Poignant, gripping, moving ... and overwhelming.

In short, for the mature middle grade reader, or teen/adult, this book is a treasure. The characters ring with authenticity, the plot moves swiftly and directly, and the outcome is fully satisfying. I wanted to adopt sweet Owen and his independent little sister (Jeremy) too. Did reading it push my understanding of MG mystery? Not really, but it made me a better, more thoughtful person, which I think is a superior outcome, don't you?

PS. I will pass it on to St. Nick, and see what happens.

Beyond the First Right Answer

2011-09-18T16:46:00.001-04:00

This morning I saw a video about creativity by National Geographic photographer Dewitt Jones. I have a page of scribbled-in-colored-pencil notes with countless lessons, all applicable to my work and life. But one lessons stands out:

There's more than one right answer.

Obvious enough. I can write a poem in free verse or as a sestina; both can be good, or "right." But what struck me was the quote,

"Anybody can come up with one right answer." The key is to look for the next right answer ...

I don't have as much trouble doing this with writing. Particularly after finishing the MFA. Perhaps it's the confidence that comes from training in technique (another point Jones made) that leads to freedom and desire to experiment. I'm more playful in writing than I ever was pre-MFA. My picture book isn't working in prose? Try it in rhyme! Let's make the characters centipedes, set it on Mars.

In other arts, however - poetry, photography, rugs - I have a harder time. Photography is the easiest example.

Jones shared a bland snapshot of his daughter. The sort of picture we all have crowding albums and memory cards. Blown-out highlights, crowded frame, random use of color. He pointed out that if he judged himself on that shot, he'd put his camera away forever. But he didn't stop there. He pushed on, and the next image was tighter, more sensitive and evocative. Ahh, he'd found the Right Answer.

That's where I usually stop in picture making (and poetry and rugs). "Oh, good! I got it!" I think, and the terror at having to put away my camera or hang up my rug hook subsides. For a while. Because who knows if there will be another great shot? What if there's not? Then it's proof I'm a hack, I can't do it, I don't have the gift, my "right answer" was just a fluke, luck.

Jones urges us to look harder, to shift perspective, trust instinct, slow down. To look for the next right answer not in terror, but knowing it will be there. The next shot of this same subject was a close-up of his daughter's face. Sensitive, full of texture and mood. Breathtaking. Another right answer.

This is what I need to do, to let go of the fear, the frantic judging of my self-worth by the image on the LCD screen. I need to let myself fall in love with the world. Because that's what creativity is.

I assumed Jones's glorious images were moments of inspiration, a gift. But he said that it takes him fourteen-thousand "answers" to get those thirty or so "right answers" that end up in a National Geographic story. Just as I read somewhere else that your first hundred thousand photographs are practice.

Dewitt Jones doesn't stop at the first right answer, and neither can I.

Nesting Instincts Gone Awry: or Making Your Own Cloth Diapers

2011-09-15T09:50:00.046-04:00

Six years ago when I was expecting Mud Pie, I was all out of nesting opportunities. We had a nursery (from Fish and St. Nick), diapers, clothes (we didn't know Pie would be a girl), car seats, dishes, toys, everything. So what did I do?

I tie-dyed all my prefold diapers. And a heap of onsies. And some t-shirts for the boys.

This time around we had nothing for Baby, but instead of setting up a nursery or shopping baby clothes and accessories (we're trying to do it all with as little expense possible), I started sewing. I've mentioned my, ahem, love of sewing previously, yes?

Here are a couple of samples using all recycled material (except the velcro and elastic, and thread - duh):

Given how long each little diaper takes me to make, and how much profanity I mutter in the making, I wonder if I'm actually saving money and/or sanity. But they sure are cute!

One is made from a t-shirt from the Acton Institute where Dr. D works.

The quote: "Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely." Indeed, power corrupts, even the youngest bottoms.

I'd give step-by-step instructions for making your own cloth diapers, but why reinvent the wheel? Here are some resources:

A how-to on making a cute fitted (especially useful for inserting the elastic!).
And in case prefolds are on the menu, a how-to I've yet to use.

Mine have fold-back tabs for the velcro and I searched online for common measurements - rise, length, waist, etc. - for various sizes. I cut a pattern out of ugly wrapping paper, and I've made a dozen or so out of various materials: old flannel pajamas, t-shirts, cotton towels. The nice thing with terry, I don't need velcro, just a Snappi. Oh-so frugal!

The TMI Birthday Song

2011-09-13T09:49:00.000-04:00

Happy birthday to me,

every hour I go pee,

my ankles are tree trunks,

and I can't see my feet!

I treated myself to a Birthday Morning walk in the woods: majestic oak, red maple, white pine, a shagbark hickory as big around as, well, me. Ahhh. The best gift ever.

Of course, I also plan to bake an orange layer cake with butter-cream frosting. I told Dr. D and the kiddos, "No matter how strange you think my cake is, you're not allowed to complain!" I'm craving orange these days, so what?

I Wanna Be a Rodeo Queen!

2011-09-09T13:31:00.002-04:00

Kylie Jean: Rodeo Queen by Marci Peschke (illus. by Tuesday Mourning). Picture Window Books, 2011.

I'll admit I was a bit skeptical when Pie pulled this off the shelf. It's very pink. But Pie Had to Have it, so into the Library Bag it went.

Somehow it was tossed in with my books by mistake and ended up in my office, amidst books on palmistry and auras (research! for a MG I have going. Even I have my limits.).

The voice of Kylie Jean captured me immediately. A first person, sweet as can be that rings with Texas Twang.

"The sky is as baby blue as a robin's egg, and there is a cool breeze jiggling the new green leaves on the trees. Bright yellow flowers that look like tiny stars are popping up everywhere. Yup, it's springtime all right!"(11)

Who could resist that voice?

Plus, the plotting is tight. Kylie wants something, to become a beauty queen, but she'll settle for Rodeo Queen this time. She faces challenges, and with support from those around her, she succeeds. Three cheers for Kylie Jean!

This book is perfect for little girls; it reinforces a try and try again attitude, practice and persistence, positive everything. Plus the characters are all warm, safe - a reader would feel nurtured and loved in Kylie's community. Not to mention the to-die-for-cute illustrations.

Pie started reading it over breakfast. A few minutes into it she started laughing.

"You like it?" I asked.

"Mom! Ugly Brother is a DOG!" and she proceeded to read the next few pages aloud to me.

Now if that's not sign of a fabulous book, I don't know what is.

On Fairies and Frogs and Such

2011-09-01T12:40:00.028-04:00

Rainbow Magic: The Party Fairies, Cherry the Cake Fairy by Daisy Meadows. Rainbow Magic Ltd., 2005.

In my quest to understand early chapter books, I read a handful of the Rainbow Magic series. I enjoyed discovering that strict "logic" isn't so much of a concern for this sort of book. No one is asking in this first chapter how a little frog-man gets in an envelope, or about the origin of little frog-men or why frog-men are involved with the fairy world at all (slaves? A fairy-world underclass?).

In this particular story, the "problem" is fairly small: a ruined cake. But in Ramona the Pest fashion, it quickly escalated. All the cakes in the world will be destroyed! Every birthday party will be ruined! Unlike Ramona, however, the reader's attention is split among different characters with point of view shifts galore. I found myself never quite developing an emotional attachment to any character, although I did worry for poor little frog man.

Interestingly, there's a larger plot thread that unites the series (unlike, say, Babysitter's Club where each volume could stand alone) and a smaller thread for each individual book.

Blasted Blight: or What to do with Green Tomatoes

2011-08-31T16:55:00.000-04:00

I started the season with ten lovely tomato plants. A few heirloom, some beefsteak, others. All went well for quite a while. We made it through June, July (even with two weeks of neglect while I was at Hamline University), into August. But then the cool nights hit, and the wet days, and the icky constant dampness. Blight set in.

Last weekend I sacrificed nine of my ten beloved lovelies to the fire pit (you can't compost blighted plants), and with St. Nick's help salvaged as many tomatoes as I possibly could. About two thirds of the maters we gathered:

That's a lot of green tomatoes. What on earth would I do with all these absurd green tomatoes? I live in Michigan. We don't fry them up here. I wasn't about to pitch them, though. So, Google to the rescue! I found two lovely canning recipes for green tomatoes.

Imagine an entire day slicing and chopping and cooking and stirring, all the while Dr. D checking in, thinking I'd lost my blinging mind. Lemon and Green Tomato Marmalade? Apple and Green Tomato Chutney/Mincemeat? Was I insane?

Maybe a little.

Or maybe not. Below is the marmalade, which tastes just a bit like lemon drop candies (only better). The original recipe from the NY Times, and mine with just a few alterations:

Lemon & Green Tomato Marmalade

Lemon & Green Tomato Marmalade

1 lemon, seeded and thinly sliced
2.5 lbs (about 5 lg) green tomatoes, cored, seeded, thinly sliced
3 1/4 C sugar
2 T lemon juice
1/8 C water
1/8 C vinegar
pinch salt
2 T liquid pectin (as needed)

1. Boil the lemon slices in water for just a moment, drain.
2. Combine all remaining ingredients and simmer until thickened. The NY Times site says 20-30 minutes, but HAHAHAHAHAHAH! that's funny. It's more like 2-3 hours. The key is to cook it until the jelly/thick sheeting point. If you've never made jam or maple syrup, this may be a new term.

Sheeting is this: when you dip a spoon into the pot and pull it out, the final drips will come together and fall off the spoon in a sheet (vs. individual drips). Watching a boiling pot and checking every thirty seconds for sheeting is an odd and effective torture. I think many governments will be making use of it soon.

3. Fill jars leaving 1/4 inch headspace, process in a boiling water bath canner for 15 minutes.

Yield: about 3 half pints.

Zippy Apple and Green Tomato Chutney

And the chutney, zippy and delicious. The original recipe here, mine below:

Zippy Apple Green Tomato Chutney

3 C currants, raisins, dried cranberries (one or a mix)
4 1/2 C chopped green tomatoes (again, cored and seeded)
4 1/2 C chopped apples (peeled)
1 lemon, seeded, quartered, sliced thin + 2 T lemon juice
2 C minced onion
2 cloves garlic (minced)
1/2 C honey
1 C vinegar
1 C water
1/2 t cayenne pepper
2 t ground ginger

1. Combine everything and bring to a simmering boil. Cook until tender, about 30 minutes.
2. Ladle into sterile jars.
3. Process 15 minutes.

Yield: about 9 half pints.

Now, just for kicks I made four half pints of this, then I played with the spices. I added:

1/4 C brown sugar
allspice
cinnamon
a touch more lemon juice

Oh my word. Awesome. Sweetness with a zing. It reminded me of Izzy's Hot Brown Sugar ice cream (one of the best I've ever had, at THE BEST ice cream parlor I've ever visited).

What do you do with chutney? I've heard that some folk serve it over ice cream or mix it in yogurt. That sounds bizarre to me, but to each his/her own. I'd serve with curry, roast, or add it to a coffee cake or quick bread mix. I'd even use it for a mincemeat pie. I have nine jars of it, so I better figure out some way to use it, right? Right.

Theft and Motivation

2011-08-30T10:54:00.001-04:00

So, we watched the second Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie over the weekend and found it even better than the first one. Side-splittingly funny, especially given the plot of brothers - Doug and Rodrick's constant fighting - and Fish/St. Nick's similar inability to get along. The movie got to the part where Mom starts bribing the boys with fake money to spend time together, and Fish/St. Nick got excited.

"Mom Bucks! Can we do Mom Bucks?"

Huh, why not? Up until now we've been having Marble Races. Each kid has a jar, they do chores and put marbles in the jar. Whoever fills their jar first gets to pick where we go for dinner on Friday night, and the race starts over. Now picking a spot to eat ended up being not enough of a carrot, so we decided each marble would be worth ten cents. The jars took about 100 marbles to fill all the way, so that's $10. With the change, when the race "ended" each child got paid according to their marbles (and the one with the most still got to pick a restaurant).

But St. Nick always seemed ahead - maybe because mowing the lawn earned him, oh, eighty marbles. And Fish/Pie would lose steam with the slow, "one drop in the bucket" filling of their jars.

The solution? Mom Bucks! Stolen blatantly from Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules. The boys wanted me to use Monopoly money. Likely so they could sneak more bills out of the game box when I wasn't looking (or buy up old Monopoly games like Rodrick did to have Unlimited Mom Bucks). Hahah. I'm so much smarter than some fictional mom. I designed my own Mom Bucks.

Fun, huh?

Now the kiddos can earn "money" for the work they do around the house. And I get a good excuse to spend a day playing with PhotoShop.

I also bought some mark-down toys and trinkets to set up a Mom Buck store. They can spend their cash at the Mom Shop, or they can trade it in for real dollars. The catch? Each Mom Buck is worth *half* in cash (so 10 Mom Bucks equals 5 dollars). A little lighter on the Mom Wallet.

Devil in the Details

2011-08-26T14:50:00.000-04:00

What is up with me? I hate sewing - loathe it - despise it. But here I am, sewing like I'm, uh, I don't even know. Martha Stewart (does she sew? Did they allow sewing machines in prison?).

Here's dress for Pie #2:

The top skirt matches the sleeve and bottom ruffle, the bottom skirt matches the bodice, etc. Not as complicated as it looks. But what really makes it are the little trimmings Pie picked out. A bit more sparkly than my choices, but they're 100% sweet, so 100% Mud Pie.

Dragonflies on the bodice:

Crystal button to set off the rushing on the bottom skirt:

And to think, I only pricked my finger hard enough to bleed once!

Cousins, Identical Cousins

2011-08-23T16:04:00.001-04:00

That title is supposed to be sung to the tune of ... oh, what show was that? Ah, Patty Duke (thank you Google). Last week Fish and Mag and St. Nick and I all went to visit cousins about an hour away. My three kids were well matched with the other four - there's a lot of energy in this group, to be sure.

I can't imagine a more perfect day. Warm but not blistering, sunny but not blazing. We had hot dogs and cucumbers and watermelon and iced tea and popsicles. We had a water balloon fight, and finally all ended up in the pool. Yes, even the moms.

The older kids took turns on the diving board. Or rather didn't take turns!

One might think Fish is the swimmer of the bunch, but nope. St. Nick jumped off without floaties or life jacket. Fish, well, he likes to be prepared ...

The kiddos and I also left with a car load of gear for Baby. I drove home in a quiet van with three sleeping children. I was tired too, and grateful for the fellowship of family.

Fruits of My Labors

2011-08-20T11:56:00.001-04:00

Here it is! The insane sewing frenzy yielded much cuteness.

A Pink Fig design with an assortment of fabric from an old skirt to some on-sale Joanne buys. A little large, but Pie will grow. I have another dress with wildly different colors and prints cut and ready to sew, just going to put on the finishing touches first!

Top Things To Do

2011-08-19T16:58:00.001-04:00

When you're too weepy and hormonal to tackle any real work:

Cry until your spouse suggests you might wake the kids, and it's 1am; go to bed and continue in the morning.
Redesign your website (check).
Play Plants vs. Zombies (you win! Again!).
Look at ultrasound pictures (*smile*).
Sew like a maniac despite your hate-hate relationship with your sewing machine (yup, did it).
Talk to your grandmother on the phone (*hugs*).
Post inanity to the World Wide Web (ongoing).

Mama Why?

2011-08-10T11:17:00.000-04:00

Because I said so!

Uh, no, this is the book, Mama Why? by Karma Wilson (illus. by Simon Mendez), McElderry, 2011

The poet in me loves the rhythm in this gentle story of how snow comes from stardust. It's a sweet, bedtime read aloud. And polar bears! Who doesn't love polar bears? They're Pie's favorite - in fact, this book was hard to get away from her so I could read it on my own.

I did find some rhymes a bit too convenient (there/bear; moonlight/so bright), but the story flows, floats almost like snow drifting down from the evening sky.

The illustrations are ethereal, warm and glowy. Worth studying.

Another Sweet Picture Book

2011-08-03T10:27:00.001-04:00

Quiet Bunny's Many Colors by Lisa McCue, Sterling 2010.

As with any picture book, the pictures are the first thing you notice. They were, in fact, what drew Mud Pie to the book at the library and compelled her to yank it off the shelf and stuff it in her over-full library bag. Predictably, she oohed and ahhed, "How CUTE!" through the whole thing.

I enjoyed it too. A pleasant rhythm as sweet little bunny explores the colors of spring, and comes to appreciate his own unique colors. I would have liked the illustrator McCue to shush the author McCue and let the pictures tell a bit more of the story, but Pie certainly didn't mind. The art is truly lovely, and the story happy, delightful.

Question: are blueberries a spring fruit? Not in Michigan, but perhaps elsewhere ... Hmmm.

Buying PINK!

2011-08-01T10:58:00.001-04:00

We had the 20-week ultrasound last week. Looks like we'll be shopping for pink!

Mud Pie is beside herself with glee, St. Nick is relieved (I think he considered a boy another rival), and Fish is okay so long as he can teach the baby how to play with Legos.

The first baby picture:

Missing Members

2011-07-31T22:53:00.023-04:00

Bedtime rolled around with the usual mix of exhaustion (parents) and bickering (Pie and Fish). This time the argument was over who brushed teeth first. Everyone ended up frustrated, so we spent some time in Pie's room sitting together and talking about Family and how much we love one another. Little hearts softened, siblings made up and said Good Nights and I Love Yous. All was well.

But then Pie started to cry.

"What's wrong?"

"I miss St. Nick!"

See, big brother has been with Grandma in Ohio for the past week. "We all miss him," I said, and Fish started to cry too. Soon Dr. D and I were joining in. Our family hasn't felt complete to me for the past seven days, but I hadn't known the little ones felt it too.

So to soothe our hearts, we called Grandma and said Good Night to St. Nick, then Fish and Mag each put a picture of their big brother in their room. We pick St. Nick up on Tuesday, which isn't soon enough for any of us.

Grownups Play Dress-up Too

2011-07-25T20:49:00.001-04:00

I haven't hooked more than an inch or written much beyond my thesis since the finger break, but I did graduate from Hamline University's MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults program. Exciting!

Of course Dr. D and I had to play dress-up. Only our garb is far more expensive than Mud Pie's little princess dresses.

A new skill - Buddy Taping!

2011-05-10T20:48:00.002-04:00

It sounds like some odd team-building exercise, doesn't it? I can imagine a group of fourth graders and a roll of duct tape ... or, maybe I'd rather not imagine that.

Really, it involves taping an injured finger to a healthy finger to stabilize the hurt one. In fact, here's a picture! Of my very own hand. And no, the purple was not added in photoshop. It got a little tricky since two fingers are broken and not just one.

I've known for a while my dog, Oscar Wild, was never socialized. He doesn't get on well with other dogs. Not a problem given where we live except when there are dogs roaming free. Not common, though, since we only have a couple of neighbors in our square mile. Yesterday I walked the Cannonsburg biking/ski trail and, tired after about three miles, was approaching my driveway when ... Yes, two strange dogs in the road. I'm not sure if Oscar wants to eat strange dogs or just be buddies. Whatever the case, he wanted at those two in a bad way. So bad that while I was going for a better grip on the leash, he bolted. My fingers? History.

Another angle:

I had to Google "Buddy Taping." Thank heavens for YouTube. You can find anything on YouTube. There are even videos on rug hooking! Which is something I might not be doing for a while, given my poor digits.

And my not-so-best Buddy ...

Hard to be upset with that face.

A Little on the Overwhelmed Side

2011-05-05T08:38:00.001-04:00

I visited a new (to me) hooking group last Monday, and while it was wonderful, full of artists and beautiful rugs, I felt the bar raising up, up, and away. There are Real hooking artists there! Like Brenda. Suddenly my rug looked like a small, shriveled raisin in a field of succulent grapes.

Not that I don't like raisins. I do. But there's a big difference between a prune and a plum, for example. One my children will eat. One they think is gross, for Babies and Old People with Regularity Issues.

Speaking of my kids, this is the Spring Portrait for Little Fish. No joke. They truly expect me to pay money for this? I'm in the wrong biz - school pictures is where the money is.

I'll just keep plugging away, I suppose. Maybe my rug won't resemble the Frankenstein I fear. Maybe? Or perhaps this is opportunity to finish my last-ever packet for Hamline's Master of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults. For some reason I've been putting it off. Can't imagine why ...

Oh, and speaking of the Universe (I was, wasn't I?), it heard.

RUMInations

2011-04-16T13:37:00.001-04:00

Thirteenth century ecstatic poet, Jelaluddin Rumi, has been part of my daily literary meal of late. Sandwiched in time between St. Francis of Assisi and Meister Eckhart, Rumi's mysticism is stunningly present, green and alive. Qualities I strive to live: presence, awareness of all that lives around me.

For example, today the undergrowth in the forest went from swollen gray sticks to pale green and vibrant crimson, with sprinklings of white and yellow. What seemed dead yesterday was only dormant. A month or so ago I noticed the fragile stems of apple trees at the orchard had plumped and reddened. I couldn't see it when I looked straight on, but against the backdrop of snow, as I walked past, the trees were obviously changing, awakening.

As I've planned this rug, I've kept lines of a Rumi poem in my mind:

Lord, the air smells good today,
straight from the mysteries
within the inner courts of God.
A grace like new clothes thrown
across the garden, free medicine for everybody.
The trees in their prayer, the birds in praise,
the first blue violets kneeling.
Whatever came from Being is caught up in being, drunkenly
forgetting the way back.

I want to be "caught up in being", and that is one grace of hooking. I cannot hook fast, I cannot hook without looking at the world, I cannot hook without feeling the color of each and every strip of wool as it slips between my fingers.

Some of my initial sketches and color plans including the very first where I copied the Rumi poem from a source now unremembered:

And a warm thank you to Mary Logue for suggesting I might find Rumi inspiring. As always, she was right.

Rug to Date

2011-04-15T14:43:00.000-04:00

Progress is slow. From a few weeks ago:

From today (neither show a tree far on the right that I did first):

Funkify Your Wool

2011-04-15T14:37:00.000-04:00

I'm easily bored so the excitement of that Great Goodwill Find of a Hideous Blazing Purple jacket soon wears off. I start to wonder what that purple would do to a light brown, or whether I need a hazy blue-white for snow or sky or what that Blue Blazer would do to white slacks, just because it might be cool and I don't have anything better to do. I stayed in this wondering phase for quite some time.

But after some Googling and reading and wondering and worrying, I did it. I took my wool and got funky. Which shouldn't be a surprise since I tie-dyed all my diapers when expecting baby #3 (I'd run out of nesting projects by then). Oh, I miss those cloth-diapering days! (No, no, not really. Universe, you didn't hear me say that.)

Some might call this procedure "Marrying" colors, though it isn't official marrying because the wool ends up mottled and not one, consistent color. Not that my married wool is one, consistent color either, but this is rather more purposely inconsistent. So, on to the technique!

First step, pick your wool.

Here I have a white, a bright blue, a textured green/aqua. And a rotten banana. Yummy.

Next twist, tie, marble, squish, etc. The more folds, the more odd your final look. Tie with strips of dark wool for an interesting effect or put a strip or two in the middle of a knot, twist, tie, whatnot and see what happens!

Put the wool in water, set it on the stove, turn on the burner, bring it to a low simmer. Don't boil it! Ok? You're not cooking it, you're heating it.

Add a healthy squirt of dish soap. Add it after you add the water if you want to avoid loads of suds. Or before water if you like to play with suds (like me, above).

Heat it for a while. I set the timer for 10 minutes, come check, if it's not how I want it, I set it for another 10 minutes, etc. Some wool takes a while to release its dye. Some doesn't hardly release it at all. Some wool takes on dye quickly, other wool doesn't. A few things to keep in mind: Thick, soft, squishy wools generally have more fibers and more dye. A small bit of that bright blue might be enough to turn the ball of white a brighter blue than I'd like.

Check it often and experiment with adding the lighter colors. The later added, the less dye they take on and the lighter they will remain. When you've achieved a color you like, add vinegar. A good amount.

I'll often turn the heat off here and let the pot cool for a few hours or overnight. Sometimes I'll cook it another 20 minutes or so. Either way, leave the wool in the vinegar for some time to let the acid do what it needs to do to set the dyes back in the fabrics.

Finally, drain and rinse. If your fabric is still hot, rinse in hot water. Match the rinse temp to the temp of the wool.

And unwrap, untie, untangle your wool to see what amazingly varied and surprising colors you've created!

I like to toss mine in the dryer with a towel, impatient gal that I am.

Up To Date

2011-04-14T15:06:00.003-04:00

Since I was planning to chronicle my hooking projects, I have a bit of catching up to do. After the trivet and such, I started a rug (a real rug!). It will someday be just the right size for the hearth in the living room, assuming we're still living here when I finish, assuming I finish, assuming I don't spill coffee on it (again).

So. Photos of the early stages:

I'm using recycled wool on monk's cloth, #8 strips. Finished size will be (assuming ...) somewhere around 44" x 18".

Almost a Year Ago

2011-04-13T21:21:00.001-04:00

On March 20th of last year, I took this photo of my very first rug hooking kit.

I'm not sure how long I let it sit, or how often I opened it, looked at it, unfolded the backing, refolded and repacked ... I was scared. I'd tried knitting. And after ten years my scarf was, well, sort of square and still only about twenty inches. I donated it to Goodwill with the knitting needles still attached.

I did finally stretch the linen, pick up the hook, and begin, and I'm glad I did. Although it took me just shy of forever, here's the finished product - a trivet - and four matching mug cozies.

My favorite piece by far (made from leftover scraps of wool and a bit of old skirt):

Thank you, Burlap N Rags, for offering such cute kits! And for providing enough extra wool to either royally mess up, or make four matching mug cozies.

Review Unwritten—Katherine Paterson’s Bread and Roses, Too

2010-12-30T16:11:00.007-05:00

Just after putting down this latest Paterson book, I had idea after idea about what to say. That was a month ago (at least) and the details have now faded. All my brilliant points of critique, all my Deep Thoughts. Oddly, details of the story itself are not lost, nor are one or two things I’d thought when I first read it. This is probably for the best—the things that remain will be the most important.

I’m reading a printed collection of Katherine Paterson’s lectures, The Invisible Child. The first is titled, “In Search of Wonder,” and in it she writes,

“If knowledge without a sense of reverence is dangerous, morality divorced from wonder leads either to chilling legalism or priggish sentimentality. I am always nervous when some well-meaning critic applauds my work for the values and lessons it teaches children, and I’m almost rude when someone asks me what moral I am trying to teach in a given book. When I write a book I am not setting out to teach virtue, I am trying to tell a story, I am trying to draw my reader into the mystery of human life in this world. I am trying to share my own sense of wonder that although I have not always been in this world and will not continue in it for too many more years, I am here now, sharing in the mystery of the universe, thinking, feeling, tasting, smelling, seeing, hearing, shouting, singing, speaking, laughing, crying, living, and dying.”

As she has in the past, Paterson accomplished this in Bread and Roses, Too.

Through careful research she effortlessly transports us back in time. Effortlessly, we hear the distinct accents of the Italian ladies, and the Polish ladies, and the Lithuanian ladies. Effortlessly, we fall into the lives of daughter of Italian-immigrants, Rosa and US-born, Jake. And as Paterson has done in many of her novels, she succeeds in her treatment of difficult subject matter.

Paterson is well aware of her tendency toward taking on challenging topics. From the essay, "Creativity Limited," reprinted in The Invisible Child, but dating back to The Writer in 1980, she writes,

“Let me offer a brief and brutal survey of my already published novels for children and young adults. In the first, the hero is a bastard, and the chief female character ends up in a brothel. In the second, the heroine has an illicit love affair, her mother dies in a plague, and most of her companions commit suicide. In the third, which is full of riots in the streets, the hero’s best friend is permanently maimed. In the fourth, the central child character dies in an accident. In the fifth, turning away from the mayhem in the first four, I wrote what I refer to as my “funny book.” In it the heroine merely fights, lies, steals, cusses, bullies an emotionally disturbed child, and acts out her racial bigotry in a particularly vicious manner.”

This is just her first five books. In Bread and Roses, Too, Paterson confronts head-on alcoholism, abuse, and again bigotry, without glossing over or authorial judgment.

Paterson writes her world as it exists for her characters. In the same lecture, she writes,

“Yet, somehow, when a story is coming to life, I’m not judging it as appropriate or inappropriate, I’m living through it. In The Sign of the Chrysanthemum Akiko ended up in a brothel not because I wanted to scandalize my readers, not because I’m advocating legal prostitution, but because in twelfth-century Japan, a beautiful thirteen-year-old-girl with no protector would have ended up in a brothel.”

Likewise, when Jake is cleaned up by a young priest after being beaten bloody by his drunken father, the priest shudders, but does not run out and call Child Protective, or vow to stop the monster who did this. No, he clothes Jake and sends him back out on the street. Other issues are dealt with similar deftness. Rosa’s devout Catholicism, the harsh effects of life in the mills are but two more examples.

Yet with all this praise, Bread and Roses, Too is not my favorite Paterson work. I have two reasons and both have to do with characterization. First, I found Rosa’s continual negativity tiresome and it kept me from fully identifying with her. At every turn she is wary of the events taking place in the book, fearful, and generally a wet blanket over the enthusiasm of her mother and sister. Having a character with these traits is fine in moderation – it gives her something to overcome – but I found Rosa's struggle more caused by obstinance (or the author's manipulation) than believable struggle. I rooted for her mother and sister, but spent more time wishing I could just shake Rosa by the shoulders, “Get with it, girl!” than looking forward to what might happen to her next.

Along the same lines, there is an unresolved tension between Rosa and Jake as to who takes center stage. The novel opens with Jake digging a hole for himself in the trash heap, and shortly the point of view switches to Rosa. I love books with multiple points of view – the scope it gives, broadening out from one character’s often myopic view of the world. But, often one character is considered the protagonist or lead.

Because more weight, in terms of page numbers and emotional intensity (all that angst and negative energy), is given to Rosa, I assumed she was the lead and big changes would be in store. Yet toward the end of the book I realized that was not the case – Rosa doesn’t change in any life-shattering way. She accepts and gets behind the central movement of the plot eventually, but I was never fully convinced of her ambivalence in the first place (as said, it seemed more a convenience for the sake of plotting), so this wasn’t so big of a surprise. The real change comes in Jake, who goes from being a selfish little trash-digging rogue, to an upstanding young man, with a loving family, no less. This made Rosa seem more a vehicle than a real person. A vehicle to drive the plot, but also one to drive theme, and this I noted particularly in her line toward the end regarding all her prayers being answered but one, that one being for Jake, which by the end is also answered. This treatment is far less deft and subtle than I’m used to with Paterson, and was a disappointment.

That said, Bread and Roses, Too still brought out the tears and still made for a fulfilling read. The history is vibrant, the dialects superb, the characters lively, and the plot satisfying despite those minor qualifications.

A Mix: Good, Bad, Ugly ...

2010-11-09T12:03:00.040-05:00

Black Stars of the Harlem Renaissance by Jim Haskins, Elanora Tate, Clinton Cox, and Brenda Wilkinson. 2002.

Ok, time for a rant. I haven't ranted in a while, have I? Well, maybe. Even so, a rant is due so here it is:

The chapter on Du Bois: Do we have a reliable narrator? Du Bois is introduced as “one of the greatest scholars the world has ever known.” First we have the issue of a lose definition of scholar (what is a scholar, exactly?), and then the absurd grandiosity of the superlative. "Greatest World Scholar!" So Du Bois should be canonized with historical and world scholars such as Aristotle, Plato, Hegel, Hume, etc? Or is the author introducing us to a figure who is made larger than life with exaggeration? Acceptable in a Tall Tale, but not in a biography.

Ok, on to pg. 7: it’s said that Du Bois has an academic career that claims nationwide attention. Yet the development, the “proof” to back up his "nationwide attention" is that he taught English, Latin, Greek, and German at the university level. I know a handful of Classics professors ... sadly, they don't get much attention, locally or nationally. The author then follows up that "nationwide" claim with details of Du Bois' marriage and kids. No development of his scholarship, what this "attention" consisted of, or anything else of real interest.

In fact, Du Bois' ambivalence toward Nazi Germany is entirely ignored, and his strong beliefs against racial integration never mentioned. I found more detail at Wikipedia than I did in this chapter! Even children deserve 1. the facts and 2. the truth at age/developmentally appropriate levels.

Most other biographies: these sketches are so short. I found myself irritated by the lack of interesting detail and by the inclusion of mundane this-is-what-I-read-in-the-encyclopedia factoids. The sketches don’t live and breathe, they gloss over an entire life in sometimes the boringest possible way, with broad and often clumsy brush strokes that, because of the first line of the first sketch and huge omissions of facts, make me want to double check all the facts. Very text-book-y.

Yet the book is uneven. The section on Langston Hughes was interesting and vivid. It didn’t have the broad-brush feel some of the other sketches had. Hmmm. Which makes me ask if there is a problem with the book as a whole, or an issue common to a multi-authored book. Perhaps some authors are better at research/writing/clarity/intellectual integrity than others?

I also noticed that many of the books referenced in the notes are secondary sources at best. Honestly, I wish I'd seen Wikipedia referenced - there might have been more details!

Two Undecodable Books (ok, maybe a little decodable)

2010-11-07T10:35:00.005-05:00

Henry and Mudge and the Tumbling Trip plus The Big Sleepover by Cynthia Rylant. 2005.

An adventure story about fun and friendship.

Rylant uses short sentences, though I must say from a reading-developmental level (whatever it’s called), the vocabulary used requires decoding skills a Level 2 might not have. “Knocked” and “enough” are more level 3 or 4, I think, but what do I know? I only taught three kids how to read.

The second of hers (Sleepover) was fun and un-frightening but on a topic that might be frightful for a child. Tender. It does not, however, make me eager to host my kids’ first sleepover (and I don’t even have knickknacks!).

Cinderella or Cinderella or Cinderella - All the Same

2010-10-08T16:35:00.013-04:00

Cendrillon: A Caribbean Cinderella by Robert D. San Souci. S&S, 1998.

Immediate connection with the narrator appearing before the title page. The fabulous voice is already rich and engaging, then add the surprise of the narrator being the “fairy godmother,” well!

Such a different take from Yeh Shen (a Chinese Cinderella retelling by Ai-Ling Louie), yet Yeh Shen is so much more culturally rich. It’s a truly different version of a classic tale, not a retelling of one with a switch in cultural setting.

I had this complaint about a Halloween version as well, Cinderella Skeleton. It was the same old story but with skeletons and undead vs. humans. I know we all just adore Pinkney (the illustrator) and San Souci is better known than Ai-Ling Louie, but honestly, the writing and originality of this tale pale compared to Yeh Shen; even the illustrations are lacking in the artistry of Ed Young’s paintings. If a culturally rich adaptation of a classic tale is going to be on a required reading list for any MFAC program, I think it should be Yeh Shen.

A Little Moody over Judy Moody

2010-10-07T10:43:00.003-04:00

Judy Moody by Megan McDonald. Candlewick, 2000.

Very Ramona-the-pest both in tone and content: the every-day becomes huge in a way that takes a child’s moods and struggles seriously. Funny and “edgy” for a third grader. A venus fly trap, a doll that gets sick, fake hand in a toilet.

Judy is just as smart and sensitive as Ramona, and I liked how the story was built around a “me” collage. A lovely addition to the "Cute Little Girl" genre. (Is there such a genre? There certainly must be ...)

Witness this!

2010-09-23T10:09:00.001-04:00

Witness by Karen Hesse. 2002.

This book was made up of poems from different points of view and usually in differing and discernible voices all telling one story.

The plot, though ... the story seemed to end at the wrong spot. It ended with one of the secondary (even tertiary) characters, with a sort of twilight zone “dun dun dun!” campfire ghost story ending. The whole meaning of the book was lost.

I saw little Esther’s attempt to take the Heaven Train (i.e. kill herself) as the primary focal point of the book—she’s certainly the only character the reader ends up knowing intimately and loving thoroughly. Yet this scene happens mid-way in. The scene seen by the author (I’d guess) as “climax” is her father getting shot. Why is this climactic? We don’t know nor really care about her father, except in how his death might hurt Esther.

So, today's lesson boys and girls, I’d say one has to end a book with something directly related to the character we come to love most. And the most emotionally charged moment maybe ought to be the climax? Or that the emotional intensity must escalate to the climax. So if the reader is choking on sobs at the half-way point, she sure better be all-out weeping by the end. Dénouement is allowable, but it really can’t take up half the book (and the “shooting” scene, like I said, wasn’t resolution—it was escalation/climax, except it ended up being anticlimactic related to the Heaven Train in the middle).

A Compass of Gold, off to a Good Start

2010-09-19T11:09:00.012-04:00

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman.

The power of a great opening: Pullman’s The Golden Compass begins, “Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening hall, taking care to keep to one side, out of sight of the kitchen.” We see a bit of each method of creating conflict. We know Lyra only by name, but it’s a lovely name, likeable and not quite ordinary. We sense that Lyra is also a likeable and not quite ordinary girl. The hook in this case involves action—Lyra is sneaking around in the dark—which provides obvious mystery: why is she sneaking? What on earth is a daemon? Pullman makes us wait.

Pullman continues to keep us waiting. He follows his opening line with a smidge of description—Lyra lives in a fancy place—and then provides a glimpse into Lyra’s character when she taps crystal to hear it ring. She’s curious and playful, yet her response to her worrywart daemon of, “They’re making too much noise to hear from the kitchen,” shows Lyra as a sensible, independent girl.

In effect, we are dumped straight into the action in a strange world. Lyra snoops where girls aren’t allowed, but before our curiosity about Lyra and her world can be sated, she must duck into hiding to avoid detection. Yet more questions arise as she overhears a plot to murder her uncle. Lyra’s character has heart, we have ample hook to propel us forward, and Pullman gives us abundant mystery. If we want answers, we must read on.

The end of the book continues with questions. Lyra rescues a group of children, but the story continues into the next book. Of the three, I thought the first two fit together best. The whole world of the dead/souls/something like that in the third was bizarre and hard to follow.

The Gift of Suffering

2010-09-09T10:56:00.003-04:00

The Giver by Lois Lowry. 1993.

Lowry opens The Giver with a description of fear and immediately cements the unusualness of the world she’s created as well as giving us insight into the young protagonist, Jonas. She also is so deliciously good at creating a Utopia that seems wonderful, at the start, and only slowly becomes sinister. It’s not at all obvious, unlike, say, Wrinkle in Time, that this Community is full of darkness. Especially chilling is the parallel between Lowry’s Community and that created in Hitler Youth.

Emotions are real and honest. I think it was Stephen King who wrote that the key to creating fear was to let characters respond in a realistic way to unrealistic situations (something like that). Lowry does exactly that. Jonas has the same doubts and confusions any of us would have given his situation, which makes the story all the more believable.
Last residency some of us were discussing the ending, some saying that Lowry was shocked that anyone thought Jonas and Gabe died in the snow. They’re riding down to an “Elsewhere that held their future and their past.” Throughout, Elsewhere has been the place people go when they’re released. I.e., when they die. So where else but into death was Jonas headed? I always assumed the boys died. Yet reading the book again, I see the ambiguity. My only point is that clarity would have been far, far more satisfying. I spent 10+ years being disappointed and peeved by the end to the book, while now I’m just bewildered.

ChuggaChugga ChooChoo!

2010-09-07T09:23:00.001-04:00

Freight Train by Donald Crews. Greenwillow, 1978.

Conceptual, informative, this little book teaches object permanence (through the tunnel cut away) and prepositions like through and by, and it uses real train terminology. It has a certain energy and excitement to it—forward momentum and rhythm of a train.

How to Build a Mosque

2010-08-11T12:27:00.004-04:00

Mosque by David Macaulay. Houghton Mifflin, 2003.

The intro is sort of dry, but the melding of fiction and nonfiction with fascinating detail on construction held my interest to the end. Yet why was there such a need for bathing? (I know it’s ritual bathing, but the text doesn’t tell me this.) There’s a ton of info on engineering, but not much on culture. The how is thorough; the why is underdeveloped.

That's Just Plain Nonsense, Eddie

2010-08-09T12:20:00.010-04:00

The Complete Nonsense of Edward Lear. by Edward Lear and edited by Holbrook Jackson Dover, 1951.

Lear was the youngest of 21 children and was brought up by his sister, who cared for him until he was nearly 50. He was an eternal child with “invincible boyishness,” according to the editor. This collection contains several works from 1846-1895.

Random thoughts:

These are so like the jokes my kids make up—so un-funny that they’re funny. A woman playing harp with her chin. Ha! They make me want to rhyme and be silly. Some have double meaning, like a person of Leeds with a head full of beads who eats gooseberry fool. And Lear uses great words like scroobious, dolorous; he embraces the absurd and violent—characters file off thumbs or kill a flea on their knee with a hatchet. Others are most un-politically correct, which I always appreciate.

For a time there’s a theme of going and not coming back (perhaps around the time of his sister’s death?). The short stories are like dreams of free association. He employs repetition like a picture book author might, but with horrendously creepy elements: story of seven young of various animals and all die awful deaths until the parents pickle themselves. Um, lovely!

The Nonsense Cookery is hysterical as are the visual puns in the Botany. He has fun rhymes for the Alphabet. I notice the limericks get more sophisticated in his later work. Rhymes are frequently brilliant, and this without the benefit of rhymezone.com!

My favorite on p. 205: “There was an old man in a garden/who always begged every-one’s pardon;/when they asked him, “what for?” – he replied “you’re a bore!”/And I trust you’ll go out of my garden.” I can imagine Lear writing this on a particularly grumpy day.

Is Lear an influence on Dr. Seuss, I wonder? He has some critters chopping up a Sage because they need sage for a recipe. HAHAHA!

The final alphabet points to some rather obvious Father issues.

Babe, Such a Gallant Pig

2010-08-07T10:41:00.001-04:00

Babe: The Gallant Pig by Dick King-Smith. 1983.

The style is hysterically understated and plays off stereotypes of the gumpy farmer and meddlesome wife. I found the proper usage of bitch for female dog interesting. I do wonder if dam might have been substituted? (Can dogs be dam and sire or is it just bitch and dog?).

Charlotte’s Web feel. The animals have personalities. But while Charlotte saves Wilbur, Babe saves himself. And his surviving the holidays isn’t so much of an issue. It’s more about Babe learning to herd sheep.
The action reads a bit like a screenplay, stripped down to necessity.
Love the little details like “Shepherding suited Farmer Hogget—there was no waste of words in it” (55).
In the final challenge, rain stops and a single shaft of sunlight flows down. Fabulous use of atmosphere to add drama.

Exquisite Poetry for Two Voices

2010-07-29T11:23:00.006-04:00

Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices by Paul Fleischman. 1988

This is a Charlotte Zolotow book, which is no surprise. Such lovely language, metaphor, all the poetic devices one learns in school. I don’t read music, but this reads like I imagine music to be read—heard in my head, both voices blending, pulling apart, coming together.

Fleischman made use of point of view by getting in the heads of bugs. Most vivid, the differing views of life between worker and queen bee (even if a mite predictable). And on the more unexpected side, the water strider analogy to the biblical walking on water miracle was beautifully done.

Riverboat, Riverboat Float Me Away!

2010-07-15T23:42:00.022-04:00

Wow, what an afternoon aboard a Mississippi riverboat (see, I know those third grade spelling lessons would come in handy - MI SSI SSI PPI). Good times had by all despite my horror at getting on an old yellow school bus. They smell the same, sound the same, feel the same - was never happier to get off a vehicle.

Jen Huffman shared her amazing eye talents,

The Mississippi impressed with raging beauty,

Our boat, the Mississippi Queen,

And the Fab Four: me, Mandy, Elizabeth, Jen.

Secrets, Platforms, Bizarre Britishisms

2010-06-24T16:52:00.006-04:00

The Secret of Platform 13 by Eva Ibbotson. Dutton, 1994.

Rich and fun fantasy. Ibbotson starts off with quaint Brittishisms, ghosts, and secret doors to other worlds. What’s not to love? Loads of fantastical invention and a heavy dose of political correctness. Atmospheric with a distant 3rd person narrator, similar in voice to others like Charlotte’s Web, Tuck Everlasting, a storybook voice that’s lolling and gentle, saying “come along for a story, children.”

There’s no mad rush to get the action going at the start. Too bad children are so impatient and discriminating that they won’t bother with such a slow beginning (note sarcasm). In my experience, children are far more tolerant of lousy writing/boring books than adults. Not that this is lousy or boring. Much to the contrary.
Wonderful use of jump cuts/scene breaks and such, and phrases like pancakes “warm as puppies,” make me salivate.
A strange, Dursley-like character (Harry Potter).
Deft use of POV. Note the selection from pp. 91-92: We were in a rather distant 3rd narration, then a new paragraph, “Raymond was still staring at the little creature. No one at school had anything like that. He’d be able to show it off to everyone. Paul had a tree frog and Derek had a grass snake, but this would beat them all.” Clearly diving into Raymond’s head, then pulling back out again with the voice of another character speaking.
Handbags of Harpies. HA! And the various scenes weave together brilliantly. Mrs. T’s perfume down the drain giving away her location, etc. All around fun!

Collection of Poems, linked

2010-06-22T11:51:00.001-04:00

Carver: A Life in Poems by Marilyn Nelson. Front Street, 2001.

Would it be admitting ignorance to say I don’t like poems I don’t understand? I mean, I sort of understand “The Perceiving Self,” but I mostly don’t. It makes me wonder if the purpose of poetry is to communicate, to feel smart, to make your reader feels unsmart ...

“[T]ouched our stamens/pleasured us with pollen.” Obviously sexual, but what to do with a lynching? Other images in that one confuse me too. Am I too dense to read poetry?

I do love the artistry and form of this book: poems from various perspectives all drawing a picture of Carver and the world in which he lived. The sad truth: I had to Google Carver to make sense of the poems (I dimly remembered his name being related to peanuts from some lesson in preschool—my lord, preschool!). Thank God for Wikipedia.

I wish Nelson had found some way to contextualize the poems for those of us who are a. young (since this is in the junior nonfiction section), b. products of the modern educational system, c. missed a lot of school (literally or metaphorically) even if a and b are not the case, or d. are just plain ignorant.

Lovely words, lovely poems, but the poems are sort of like single petals of a yellow flower. We don’t know if we have a daisy or a dandelion. And how we understand and appreciate the flower depends upon where we find it: a garden, the lawn, a clogged downspout. “His students/see the light of genius/through the dusky window of his skin”—beautiful petals, but of what? Where? Many stunning poems like, “From an Alabama Farmer.” But the title says it’s a life in poems. Somehow I missed the life, found only poems.

Nelson's other book for this age group however, Fortune's Bones, is among my favorites of all time.

On Punctuating Dialog ...

2010-06-11T19:14:00.019-04:00

It’s a common confusion – how on earth do I punctuate dialog? Punctuating dialog is the same as punctuating any sentence, isn't it? You put the end punctuation at the end of a sentence? Except with dialog, even if it’s not the end of a sentence, you still might put in end punctuation, but then you need more end punctuation, and ... it’s a confusing mess. The key is this: in dialog you are punctuating complete and separate sentences. Take this example:

“Mary, I really like you.” The boy reached for the soda and poured a glass.

“Mary, I really like you” and “The boy reached for the soda and poured a glass” are both complete sentences. There’s a period after “I really like you” and the first word of the second sentence is capitalized, just as you’d expect.

Most people intuitively punctuate both sentences separately. Only those who are thinking about “some rule” they learned back in high school, about how a comma comes right before the end quotation mark, mess this up. But really, it makes sense. If the sentences are separate, if each can stand on its own, then you punctuate them like two distinct sentences.

Now for the sticky comma. Where it goes and why. Another example:

“Your beard is looking good today,” Mary said to Miss Maven.

“Your beard is looking good today” IS a complete sentence, but “Mary said to Miss Maven” is NOT a complete sentence. Said what? Huh? Mary said something? It’s what is called a Dialog Tag. Like a Christmas gift with a tag telling you who it’s from, the Dialog Tag tells you who said something and (sometimes) how it was said. The stuff in quotes is the gift. The “said whoosibuts” is the tag.

Correct: “I like cheese,” said Marty.

Incorrect: “I like cheese.” Said Marty.

“Said Marty” doesn’t make a lick of sense all by itself because it’s not a complete sentence. So, the “gift” (the “what is said”) part of the sentence is not punctuated as a complete sentence either. You can’t separate the tag from the gift or you won’t know who gave it to you. That’s why you use a comma.

This is pleasantly complicated when the thing that is said is a question or an exclamation.

“I love cheese!” screamed Marty. AND “Do we like cheese?” screamed Marty.

You have a dialogue tag (screamed Marty), so there is really only one sentence (“screamed Marty” can’t stand alone), but you have no comma because of the exclamation point and question mark. The dialog itself is punctuated to show the emotion or question, and the end punctuation is a simple period.

Some more examples:

Correct: “Martha Stuart, I’ve had it!” Cindy cocked the gun and aimed it at Martha’s chest. Two separate sentences, no dialog tag. Both sentences are punctuated individually.

Incorrect: “Martha, you are too much,” Cindy squinted past the glow from Martha's blowtorch at the exquisite gold-foil centerpiece. Two separate sentences, no dialog tag. These should be punctuated individually, with a period at the end of the dialog instead of a comma. Fix: “Martha, you are too much.” Cindy squinted at the exquisite gold-foil centerpiece.

Correct: Herbert didn’t know how long he’d waited. “What time is it?” he asked. Even though the dialog ends in a question mark, it is followed by a tag, so the “he” isn’t capitalized. This shows that the tag goes with the “gift.”

Incorrect: Herbert twiddled his thumbs. He glanced at the clock. “What time is it?” He finally asked. “He asked” can’t stand on it’s own. Even though there is a question mark (end punctuation) just after it, “he” should not be capitalized. Fix: Herbert twiddled his thumbs. He glanced at the clock. “What time is it?” he finally asked.

Correct: “We gather together on this blessed occasion,” the pastor droned. Dialog tag, one sentence. Comma and lower case.

Correct: “We gather together on this blessed occasion.” The pastor paused to sip from a cup beneath the podium, then continued by saying, “The joining of these two kids who really should have known better.” First sentence is not followed by a dialog tag. Second sentence (“The pastor ...”) becomes a dialog tag for the dialog that follows it, and so it ends in a comma.

Incorrect: “Why, Cindy, is that thing real?” She asked over the deafening alarm bells. “She asked” is a dialog tag and shouldn’t be punctuated as a separate sentence. Fix: “Why, Cindy, is that thing real?” she asked over the deafening alarm bells.

Correct: “Why, Herbert, is that a new style from Spain?” She glanced down, then back up to his eyes and smiled sweetly. “Or did you forget your pants?” No tag; all three are separate sentences and are punctuated independently.

Correct: “Velma, my dear,” he intoned, “you are a sore for sight eyes.” Dialog tag interrupts a sentence. Separated off with commas.

Correct: “I see you haven’t been taking your medication,” Velma quipped. “You really should seek help, Daryl. Professional help.” Tag applies to the first phrase of dialog. The second phrase is a new idea/thought/sentence. Period comes after the tag in this case.

Oh, and as an aside, do avoid using intoned and quipped and such. Said is almost always best. Unless you're being silly.

On Homesick

2010-06-09T11:56:00.007-04:00

Homesick: My Own Story by Jean Fritz. 1982.

The story of Fritz’s childhood in China. A memoir for children full of fun stories and written in an accessible fairy-tale tone. Rich detail, vivid storytelling, a likable protagonist. There is very little difference between this work of nonfiction and many of the novels I’ve read. Though I’ve yet to read a quote as fun as this one:

“A cat is a cat. There are no foreign cats, no Chinese cats, no capitalist cats, no Communist cats. Just cats.” --Yan Sze-Fu

Love it! Although I'd guess my cat is a Union cat ...

Bizarre and Creepy: Perfect Middle Grade

2010-06-08T16:40:00.008-04:00

Skellig by David Almond. 1998.

Chapter 1 thoughts: The protagonist is sort of grouchy, but the toilet in the dining room made me laugh. Now on to the rest of the book:

Psychological honesty: Michael’s emotions aren’t simple I like this I don’t like that. He can love and hate simultaneously, feel compassion for and horror at the creature in the garage at the same time. So often I’ve had critique partners comment on my work—"But he called the baby stupid and now he’s praying for her to get better? Inconsistent!" they cry. When are we ever, any of us, consistent?
Description: “The red sauce below his lips was like congealed blood” (29), or, “I thought of his wings and of the baby’s fluttering heart” (99). It just doesn’t get better than that!
The art teacher says you get better at drawing by drawing. The same goes for writing—Michael got braver and bolder, and I think Almond shows incredible bravery and boldness by writing this book that any (most, anyhow) writing teacher would dismiss as too bizarre for words. Owl-angel-men, Persephone, dying infants, and adorable britishism like blinking and bloody and knocky down.
Repetition of ideas, phrases, the whole is unpredictable as anything, yet feels choreographed, like a complicated and beautiful dance.
Enough of these books that make me cry like a blinking baby!!!!

You Mean Women Won Rights? News to Me.

2010-05-20T12:17:00.008-04:00

If You Lived When Women Won Their Rights by Anne Kamma. Scholastic, 2006.

Now here is a compelling and well-told story! Kamma never loses her narrative thread, she includes quotes and details, and she keeps the details to those that ground the story or move it forward. She, in short, finds a plot and develops it. Aside: This is exactly what I want to do with my project.

Anyway, the language is simple and straightforward, yet it doesn’t sacrifice artfulness for a sterile informative tone (like some hideous books on sea turtles I read first semester), rather the tone is engaging, the voice consistent. An important book!

Another Reason My Yard is Full of Holes

2010-05-15T12:29:00.005-04:00

How to Dig a Hole to the Other Side of the World by Faith McNulty. 1970.

Second person, a how-to booklet on digging to the center of the earth and beyond. Fact meets fun. The fantasy element combined with scientific detail make this a favorite and true classic. But hey, my copy didn't come with a CD!

That aside, my kids frequently dig holes around the yard, and they truly are trying to break through to the earth's core. So far we've gotten not much beyond two feet. But hey, when you're only four feet high, that's not bad!

On a Tightrope

2010-05-12T11:59:00.007-04:00

The Man Who Walked Between the Towers by Mordicai Gerstein. Roaring Brook, 2003.

I love Mordicai Gerstein. I have since I got his book on Noah for my children. His art, his prose, his creativity—delicious. This story is likewise gripping and written in the same tender tone. Gerstein keeps the story moving forward with a clear dramatic arc. Philippe had a goal, obstacles to that goal, and a plan to achieve it. Well done to Philippe and Gerstein!

Jesus and Baseball

2010-05-09T10:46:00.000-04:00

Baseball Saved Us by Ken Mochizuki. 1993.

Triumphant!

Easy to read text that can be read independently by most first/second graders and Mochizuki's is an important voice in a history that has seldom been captured. Both elements combine for an important book.

On craft: the voice is rather bland, but it’s also not laden with “cultural identity” which in this case makes the boy sound like every other American child. Important to the story, I think, because his "every-kid-ness" highlights the injustice of his interment.

Classics of Moles and Rats

2010-05-08T16:47:00.006-04:00

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. 1908.

So Pooh-like with that quaint voice and silly words and lots of happy adverbs (see, sometimes adverbs can be good!). Mole meanders aimlessly and is bewitched, entranced, fascinated by a bubbling, gurgling, chuckling river. What wonderful words! Never mind that Moles are blind; I could eat it up.

I was more than a little shocked to read Rat’s line, “Stop it, you silly ass!” on page 17, however.

Despite the lovely turns of phrase and the appeal of classic literature, I don’t favor talking animal stories. I’ve started and stopped this one every few months since entering the program (not to mention the times I’ve tried to read it in previous years). I’m just not a child at heart, I suppose. I did glimpse an interesting parallel to some of these characters and Tolkien’s Hobbits—maybe this was a source of inspiration for Tolkien, or just a similarity because of the tone, but the homey little Mole is rather Hobbit-like, and his crusty friends reminiscent of Frodo’s mishmash of companions.

A Book to Cry Over

2010-05-07T10:38:00.007-04:00

Morning Girl by Michael Dorris. Hyperion, 1992.

Dorris hooks the reader with voice and woos her with lovely prose: personification like “the day welcomed me, brushed my hair with its breeze, greeted me with its songs” (5). The alternating POV chapters are interesting and risky for this age group. Yet I found the voice of each chapter distinct.

On pg. 27 Star Boy (brother to Morning Girl) is hiding after losing his father’s canoe. He thinks, “I closed my eyes and concentrated on being a rock. I sank so deep into the ground that no digging stick could roll me from my hole. I became so hard that no tree or bush could take root on my surface.” It’s vivid, clear, yet develops setting and character beautifully. He goes on to describe things he can feel as a rock that he can’t as a boy, like shadows moving over him.

And Morning Girl wanting to see her face, and finding “two pretty girls” in her father’s eyes made me cry.

This is a book to dissect for theme. Names, self-knowing, understanding.
The epilogue from Columbus is chilling to my very soul. Ugh. It went from tender family story to horror novel in that final, masterful page.

A Keeper of Dreams

2010-04-29T11:48:00.000-04:00

The Dream Keeper and Other Poems by Langston Hughes. Knopf, 1932, 1994.

Reminiscent of Hailstones and Halibut Bones with the imagery and simplicity. All the poems employ specific and unique language, and often surprise with contrasting images like the sea being like a desert of waves or new leaves singing in the rain.

Incredible rhythm in the blues set. “And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red/Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain./Sweet silver trumpets,/Jesus!” Amen to that!

Interesting, too, how varied the poems are. Universal, global, modern somehow, despite being three quarters of a century old.

Long Titles, Short Books

2010-04-18T16:50:00.003-04:00

I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: The Diary of Patsy, a Freed Girl by Joyce Hansen. Scholastic, 1997.

Delightful voice and vivid research. The research shows and adds layers to the text. The diary form is highly personal, sort of like a verse novel. I found the premise compelling but the setting just seemed a little claustrophobic. I guess that’s the downfall of a diary novel—you’re stuck in one person’s head, and if that person is a girl who stutters and limps and doesn’t leave the plantation, well, you’re limited to her experience. For a book in a series, however, this one was far and away beyond what I expected. Not formulaic, and with a fabulous historical note at the end with photos and tons of detail.

I wish I lived on Neighborhood Street!

2010-04-17T12:01:00.004-04:00

Night on Neighborhood Street by Eloise Greenfield. Dial, 1991.

The illustrations feel sort of 1970s (which is odd given the pub date); makes it seem dated. The poems, however, give snapshots into life, like the “Little Boy Blues” which is a play on the musical blues and the Mother Goose rhyme. It’s tender and lovely with strong rhythm. “The Seller” and various other poems make me wonder if this book is for children or adults, though. There’s a sophistication that might be over the picture-book-reader’s head.

Rats of NIMH and other Rodent Themed Books

2010-04-09T10:59:00.006-04:00

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien. 1971.

There’s a certain sameness to rodent-themed books, I’ve noticed. Velveteen Rabbit (ok, not quite, but ...), Ralph and the Motorcycle, Borrowers. Most have a lot of “critter skittering about for food” along with lots of scurrying, scraping and scampering. This one is the same, and the anthropomorphism (done well) is the hook here. On page 21 we get a description of Dragon, the cat: “He was enormous, with a huge, broad head and large mouth full of curving fangs, needle sharp.” Vivid, as a cat would be to a mouse, then the monstrous and mythical take over, “He had seven claws on each foot and a thick, furry tail, which lashed angrily from side to side.” Other thoughts—

Honor and respect are heavy themes. In the first scene with the crow, throughout. The nature of true nobility. And a great quote from p. 32, “All doors are hard to unlock until you have the key.”
Little details like the smell of frost melting make the reading delightful. Twists and turns in plot too, like the drugged cat, the backstory, overhearing the family planning to poison the rats. There’s adventure and death/violence on a level that would not be possible for this age group with human characters.

I love Snuggly picture books!

2010-04-08T09:53:00.007-04:00

Max’s Dragon Shirt by Rosemary Wells. Puffin 1991.

I had a horrid time finding any Wells book I hadn’t already read 100+ times. Fish LOVED Yoko and the various Max and Ruby books. I’d have to say Yoko is probably the loveliest of the Wells books with it’s gentle rhythm and touching relationships. So much is communicated and it’s a pleasure to read. The Dragon Shirt is funny and just a little silly. I love how Wells takes the child’s world seriously, smilingly, and employs a tender, gentle tone. Her books are so ... snuggly! Holly Hobbie in her Toot & Puddle books does the same.

Traditional African Tale

2010-04-07T09:50:00.004-04:00

Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters: An African Tale by John Steptoe. 1987

Any MFA in Children's Writing must have this book on it's required reading list -- such an important tale. Uniquely South African and full of stunning, authentic illustrations. This morality story is much like an Aesop’s fable. The kind girl is favored over the nasty one. The plotting is tight, the storytelling clear with a voice like a classic folktale. A favorite.

Reading Mishmash

2010-03-30T19:04:00.005-04:00

My reading has had surprising continuity in recent months, though looking at the number of books actually checked off my TBR list you'd think I'd become an American Idol addict or something. No such luck. I've been rushing to fulfill the requirement of the MFA - 40 books of the 120 listed on their required bibliography - 40 read before my first residency, the rest in my first two semesters (along with reading for courses). And yet ... I can't seem to leave the library without a handful of non-required books. So now I have three annotated bibliographies going. One of required reading for the MFA, one of reading that could be related (i.e. children's books), and one for research or books that don't really fit anywhere else. Like Your Money Counts by Howard Dayton, or Parenting With Love and Logic by Cline and Fay.

Hopkins, Lee Bennet, editor. Wolf Erlbruch, illus. Oh, No! Where Are My Pants and Other Disasters: Poems. HarperCollins, 2005.

Beyond an overuse of exclamation points, this charming collection gets into a child's world without subtlety or subtext. The poems are funny, sad, simple, but not transportive. Most are nostalgic, words of an adult looking back. The illustrations, likewise, have a feel of nostalgia. A 1940s idyllicism. At the State Fair by Rebecca Kai Dotlich was one exception. "I stay very still/in this chandelier chair." captures the child's thinking in childlike words and, interestingly, this illustration is my favorite--it has more depth of meaning, more emotional expression than the others in the book.

Janeczko, Paul B., editor. Chris Raschka, illus. A Poke in the I: a Collection of Concrete Poems. Candlewick, 2001.

The artist in me absolutely loves this book. Raschka's use of color and texture, of negative space and shape exactly melds with the whole notion of visual poetry. A few that especially captured me: "A Weak Poem" in which the poem slants downward, falling over. "Easy Diver" in which a pigeon dives off the roof and lands gently on the ground. "Merging Traffic" in which the word traffic visually merges with the word merge. These poems are quick and clever, the melding of words and meaning, and they get at childhood in such a fabulous way. Finally, "Tennis Anyone?" involves the reader's whole body, not just her eyes, as she turns her head to read from one page to the next and back again, as if she's watching a game of tennis. Brilliant. This is now likely one of my all-time favorite books of poetry.

Don't Judge a Book by the Cover

2010-03-19T11:06:00.012-04:00

A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park. Clarion, 2001.

Tree-ear’s yearning starts out a little rough—not deftly drawn—but soon I’m sucked into the story. I found this similar to Little House and Birchbark House, but about a boy and a different sort of land. The plot is stronger, more reminiscent of Katherine Paterson’s Sign of the Chrysanthemum. The voice is quite folktale, timeless, and the plot is tight but with a good many twists at the end. A stunning example of Park’s deft writing comes on page 52:

“The gentle curves of the vase, its mysterious green color. The sharp angles of the plum twigs, their blackness stark amid the airy white blossoms. The work of a human, the work of nature; clay from the earth, a branch from the sky. A kind of peace spread through Tree-ear, body and mind, as if while he looked at the vase and its branch, nothing could ever go wrong in the world.”

Random note: the cover on my copy sucked big time: a scowling androgynous Asian with a wicker backpack against a sickly orange backdrop. Yick.

Beautiful Snowflake Bentley

2010-03-17T12:24:00.004-04:00

Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Briggs Martin. 1998.

Martin brings Bentley’s love and obsession to the child on a mitten-full of snow. Imagine a book about photographing snowflakes making the reader cry. But Martin does it, gently and in a voice I’ve had the privilege to hear in person! The copies of Bentley’s actual photos at the back of the book show the crisp beauty and incredible detail that fueled his passion. Inspiring.

Oh, and if you ever have the pleasure of meeting Jackie Briggs Martin, she's as lovely as her book. I want to adopt her as my mom.

Thoughts on Suffering

2010-03-09T20:27:00.002-05:00

Life has been a little rough lately. Little jagged bits and pieces float by now and then, but otherwise it's all water. Like that scene in Perfect Storm where the boat is gone and there's just waves. Waves and waves and waves.

Victor Frankl, holocaust survivor and psychologist, draws an analogy between suffering and a gas chamber - that pain is like gas in an empty room. It doesn't matter how much gas there is, or how big the room is, the gas expands to fill it. To deny pain because it's "too small" or less important/meaningful/awful than someone else's pain is to deny ALL pain. Because there's no way to measure how much suffering-gas will fit in a heart without destroying it. It fills it. Always.

I've been a judgmental pain in the ass in the past, thinking, what? You're so sad because you had a miscarriage the day after you got a positive test? Try having one when you're twelve weeks along! Try having three! I don't speak these thoughts. Good thing, too, because I know first hand the compounding effect on grief of words like, "Thank God you weren't farther along!" and "You should be grateful for the healthy child you have!"

I never understood why those phrases provided so little solace. No solace, actually, only guilt. Because sorrow fills us, every gap and synapse. And while it's there it doesn't matter how much worse off our neighbor is, how much more pain our friend's friend had, how bad it might have been. We have only our own reality; we have only our own suffering. To deny another person's suffering is to negate our own; to negate our own is to deny the world's. And who can stand to live without compassion?

Twice Read, Nonce Enjoyed

2010-03-09T11:02:00.009-05:00

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. 1960.

Interesting opening, full of subtle tension. But what is the narrator dying from want of? What’s the promise of the first page? (Hahaha!) Ok, she obviously wants peace for her people and the reader suspects that the visitors will bring calamity (which they do).

The writing is not especially engaging. It rather gets out of the way quickly so the strong plot can take over, though I can’t figure out why the wild dogs only killed Ramo and didn’t eat him.

O’Dell faces the same problem that Tom Hanks faced—how to make scenes interesting and “quick” when there’s only one person? Hanks, in whatever movie that was, turns a volleyball into a god, but O’Dell tries to tap into the cultural rather than survivalist part of the story (unlike say, My Side of the Mountain, Hatchet, others). I bet a formula could be made for these books, something like step 1: isolate the protagonist (plane crash, wild dogs, running away, etc.), step 2: make weapons! Cool!, step 3: give the protagonist something really big to hunt and some wild animal intent on hunting them, step 4: every isolated survivalist needs a volleyball/pet ... and so on.

And in the end, what leads our young protagonist to let down her guard and engage the stranger (the stranger: step 11)? Female vanity. Ah, to be a man writing about women in 1960! She succumbs to a compliment about her skirt, then to a necklace.

Details are rich like Little House and others, and this gives a fascinating glimpse into history and life from an unusual perspective, but I didn’t find the survival story any more compelling now than I did when I read the book (laboriously) in 6th grade. Not my favorite by far.

What's that on your Head?

2010-03-08T09:26:00.002-05:00

Imogene’s Antlers by David Small. Crown, 1985.

The fun begins on the first page when Imogene finds she grew antlers in the night. Right away, Imogene proves she’s a creative, fun-loving child. What child doesn’t have difficulties that feel as big as antlers? In a satisfying way, Imogene turns her predicament into a triumph, only her mother and principal remaining disturbed. The humor comes from the incongruent responses, and clever visual irony boosts the laughs.

Alternate to Lonely Fireflies

2010-03-07T09:25:00.000-05:00

In the Tall, Tall Grass by Denise Fleming. Henry Holt, 1991.

Bright, bold illustrations, rhyme and alliteration, bugs and snakes that naturally capture a child’s imagination ... perfection. I would have loved to have this in board-book format for my own children when they were young. Similar to one of Carle’s (the Lonely Firefly, I think), but simpler/makes more immediate sense.

A Spider and a Pig

2010-02-19T11:16:00.016-05:00

Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White. 1952.

Similar in voice to Babbitt’s Tuck Everlasting, White’s is written in a pleasantly distant third person with an air of mystery, like the story that is unfolding is Very Important. Some things of note:

It opens with dialogue, which pulls the reader in immediately. Uncommon for the times, I think?
It confronts death quite realistically and without squeamishness. Yes, pigs become bacon and Christmas ham. Yet one pig will be spared.
A strong sense of sentimentality runs throughout. Sort of like Charlotte’s character herself.

Total aside: I played Fern in my fourth grade production of Charlotte's Web. I had to sing to a stuffed pig, and during dress rehearsal I went missing for a few minutes, so the Green-Room-Nazi-Mom kept a strict eye on me. She made me miss an entrance during the performance because she didn't believe me when I said I needed to be on stage. Funny what odd details make an impression.

I also had to kiss Wilbur (John VanDop, who I loved desperately) on his sweet little head at the end. I'm so glad he wasn't turned into bacon!

Aesop Rewrites: So lovely and Gentle

2010-02-11T16:26:00.004-05:00

Aesop’s Fables by Jerry Pinkney. 2000.

Compression and storytelling meld with just enough detail to set the stage and uphold the story. I found a mix of familiar and more obscure stories (i.e. “The cat, the Rooster and the Mouse”). All included small details that made the story more vivid, like garlands of flowers around the heifer’s neck. This is a compilation, so there's not much to say on the whole. A few notes on individual stories:

“Shepherd Boy and the Wolf”: I think the story is more powerful when the boy gets eaten, but hey, it’s Pinkney’s book.
But there was a mixed meaning on p. 44. “Those who complain most often suffer least.” Maybe better would be: those who suffer least often complain the most. If it were a story of a squeaky wheel getting oiled, then the moral of “complain to get what you want” could come out of the current phrasing.
Some are hysterically funny. Like a drowning boy being lectured—“there’s a time and a place for everything.” No kidding! It makes me wonder what Dahl or Edward Lear would do with these tales.

Strange Little Family

2010-02-09T10:38:00.006-05:00

The Animal Family by Randall Jarrell. 1965.

What a strange book. Jarrell’s is the story of a hunter and mermaid who fall in love and make a family from a bear cub, a lynx, and an orphaned boy. The story is uncannily realistic for all the lack of realism (a mermaid!). Bears act like bears, lynxes like lynxes, yet they live together in harmony. This strange combination of realism and surrealism makes for an unpredictable, fascinating, slightly unnerving little story.

Little Black Sambo vs. Sam and the Tigers

2010-02-08T09:13:00.020-05:00

Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman. 1925.

I have this story in a set of old blue storybooks from the 20s. My grandmother read it to me when I was a girl. It was my absolute favorite then, and I still enjoy it now. It’s considered to be absurdly racist, primarily the stereotyped illustrations, but it’s a great story! I would much rather have my children read The Story of Little Babaji, however, since the tale itself is Indian originally.

Sam and the Tigers by Julius Lester. 1996.

A brilliant rewrite of Little Black Sambo. What child can not laugh at Sam, Sam and Sam? With clever and lively illustrations, it’s a modern classic. Not to harp on The Story of Little Babaji, but I'm going to harp a bit. That little book captures the elegant simplicity of the Sambo story, but returns it to a more accurate context. So, if you're looking for a funny spin on Sambo, Sam and the Tigers will do fine. If you're looking for a culturally sensitive replacement for Sambo, I'd go with Babaji.

Oh, No! She's Missing!

2010-02-07T09:10:00.011-05:00

Miss Nelson is Missing by Harry Allard. 1977.

Clever storyline, simple and fresh illustrations. I expect parents took issue with a story about naughty children and a teacher who is called a witch back in the day. It’s standard fare now, though. I mean I have Heckedy Peg on my bookshelf, along with books about farting dogs and dumb bunnies. Interesting write-up about this book and its origin in Anita Silvey’s 100 Best Books for Children. Far too lazy today to comment more. Fun book and Pie, Fish and I loved the CD/book combo in this particular release.

Little House by Any Other Name Might Smell Like: Birchbark House

2010-01-25T13:46:00.006-05:00

The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich. Hyperion, 1999.

It’s Little House but from the Native American perspective! I love it.

Erdrich accomplishes a lovely coming of age story with many of the same devices Wilder uses. Incredibly specific detail, a gentle narrative that strays from close 3rd limited to omniscient when it needs to. Family stories scattered throughout.

But Erdrich does more—she allows her protagonist to suffer (she loses her baby brother), and she takes the spirituality of the culture very seriously. Despite the author having these contemporary sensibilities, the book still has the timeless feel that Wilder’s have. Lovely.

My Favorite Queen: Elizabeth

2010-01-24T12:32:00.010-05:00

Behind the Mask: The Life of Queen Elizabeth by Jane Resh Thomas. 1998.

Dense, detailed, drenched in history. Jane’s passion comes through every intimate detail. I wonder if it shouldn’t have been YA. I could imagine my 9yr-old son asking, “What’s a lover, Mom?” And the sheer density of information: all the political intrigues, much pre-understanding about the times assumed ... it screams YA to me.

As a former student of Jane's, I can see many of JRT’s writing habits: powerful verbs, clear sentences, no improper referents. These (hahahaa!) do make for a forward-moving style. The great complexities of Elizabeth’s story are communicated with stunning clarity and depth.
Whine of the day: Not enough pictures, and if a publisher were going to do such a heavy book, why not do the whole thing in color? I used to do graphic design - color doesn't cost that much more. Not these days.
Prodigious research both into Elizabeth’s person as well as the times during which she lived. All I can say is Wow.

Residency, January 2010

2010-01-14T20:36:00.011-05:00

Highlights from residency thus far? Phyllis shows off a book dummy - the publisher's proofs (cool!) and Mandy Bachta's awesome sandwich.

But honestly, who said MN is cold in January? I mean, I'm only wearing one pair of gloves under my mittens. This is nothing!

And the Thunder Rolls

2010-01-09T11:13:00.005-05:00

Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry by Mildred Taylor. 1976.

Love the voice. “Mama’s gonna wear you out.” It sings with authenticity with enough description to make the setting vivid without being overwhelming, and all of it is in Cassie’s voice (more or less), which makes it interesting as well as informative. The scene with the books made me cry. Moving prose but without being manipulative. The characters are merely reacting to the realistic situation in real ways—and it’s heartbreaking.

Despite this being an older book, there’s a moment where revenge tastes sweet. There’s the required line of “good thing no one got hurt,” but otherwise no moralizing. Not the first book to do this, obviously, but contrast it with those God-awful Elsie Dinsmore books, or the mostly awful rewrites ... how good to see evolution at work!

Taylor captures the racial tensions well, so even the crossing of a bridge becomes a skirmish in this tense war. So many strong themes of justice, right/wrong, etc. Yet all is woven to create a compelling and seamless plot. A true classic.

Fiction Meets Nonfiction: Quack!

2010-01-04T13:05:00.001-05:00

Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey.

Natural science and strong plot combine to make a classic.

This is a cute story about a mother duck seeking the best home for her ducklings. Facts about molting, duck predators, food sources come to life with simple, happy illustrations that use many varying angles and perspectives. Repetition of names makes for a fun, if lengthy, read-aloud.

A Childhood Favorite

2010-01-02T12:49:00.001-05:00

Corduroy by Don Freeman. Puffin Books, 1968.

A classic and one of my childhood favorites. I didn’t notice Lisa was African American until I read it again as an adult, but now I see the parallel between her race and her acceptance of Corduroy just the way he is -- especially given the time in which it was published.

The writing itself is simple, fluid, clear without a lot of splash. Perfect continuity with the illustrations and storyline. I remember being touched by Lisa’s unconditional acceptance of her bear -- that she loves him even with the missing button, but selflessly fixes it for his own comfort. One of those books that shaped my own life narrative.

Amazing Books In Which Nothing Much Happens

2009-12-26T13:12:00.000-05:00

Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. HarperCollins, 1932.

The opening chapter sets the stage in this story of wilderness survival and historical family life. There’s not much character development at first, but amazing detail of living on the rustic frontier pull the reader onward. Really, not much happens at all. Yet when I finished this book, I rushed back to the library to get the rest of the series (though I'd read them as a child as well)! Why did they so capture me?

Some items of note:

Within the book there are many family stories, which gives a feel of leaving a legacy and adds to the believability of the whole.
There’s a strong theme of hard work without complaint—such a realistic view of that age (like Sarah Plain and Tall) and unlike a more modern book about times past (thinking of Catherine Called Birdy here) the focus is on the fascinating details of life, even hard life, rather than the whining and “waaah, life is so hard.”
Devil is in the details: Laura’s character is understated/undeveloped. Or, rather, her person is wrapped up in the goings on of those around her. Very realistic for her age (very little differentiation from parents and home at that point—she really is defined by the goings on around her). I noticed that she changes in subsequent books as she becomes her own person.
Despite a lack of development, Laura is still lovable. She’s not the “perfect” child (unlike Mary); she has flaws but is still sweet and thoughtful, eager to please.

Friends Forever: George and Martha

2009-12-16T13:00:00.000-05:00

George and Martha by James Marshall. Houghton Mifflin, 1972.

Very similar to Frog and Toad in that it’s told in short tales, and “adult” characters who act and think like children, yet with a soft, sweet tone similar to Rosemary Wells.

In the stories two happy friends learn how to interact and be better friends though honesty and respect for one another. Valuable lessons for children. Each tale reads almost like a joke with an unexpected punch line at the end.

Interestingly, there are a number of more contemporary "versions" - or series - that aren't retellings, but are based solidly on the George and Martha model.

Too Tall for Truth: Tall Tales

2009-12-06T12:58:00.006-05:00

John Henry by Julius Lester. Dial, 1994.

An authentic, engaging voice mingles fantasy with reality.

Pinkney’s vivid artwork combines with Lester’s picturesque text to make the telling of the story every bit as “larger than life” as the subject of the story. Lester fills his pages with word pictures, “bat wings on tombstones” and personification, the sun flossing, the wind out of breath. Yet he tosses in modern items, “like the school bus is never going to come,” which walks the line between contextualizing the fable and distracting from it (I’d vote for distracting).

But with other similes, “mountain as big as hurt feelings,” Lester touches the child’s world. A fabulous example of a Tall Tale capturing a bit of culture and history.

Bizarre Title Day: The Book of Three

2009-11-26T13:16:00.007-05:00

The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander. 1964.

The heavy info-drop at the start of this book made me put it aside several times. The only reason I plugged ahead was because I had to complete this list!

I’m mixed. On one had the action is compelling and well-done and the plot moves fairly smoothly (i.e., not the “video game” plotline present in so many fantasy novels—like “we must rescue the enchantress but first we need the magic key but to get the magic key we must defeat the octagonal ogre but to defeat the octagonal ogre we need a dragon’s egg that can only be had as reward for aiding the chicken in his quest to cross the road!”). The similarities to Tolkien (The Hobbit published in 1937) were striking. A Gollum-like creature (Gurgi), and Taran is Sam to Gwydion’s Frodo for a good bit of the beginning. Yet this one is very much more, ahem, feminist than Tolkien. The female has a speaking role! And doesn’t end up embracing domesticity at the end (though maybe she will in future books. It’s still incredible, especially for the early ‘60s). And the plot takes many fascinating, unexpected, and un-Tolkien-like turns.

So, in short, I didn’t appreciate the info-dump at the head, as mentioned, nor the summing-up at the end. But both were far and away less tedious than Tolkien’s councils of Elrond and the like. Some notes on content:

Taran’s move from Assistant Pig Keeper to hero is believable and subtle—nicely done. An especially poignant passage on p119, “To him, the bright morning felt deceptively gentle; the golden trees seemed to cover dark shadows. He shuddered even in the warmth.” He’s seeing with new eyes, growing, changing.
But all this to-do over an ocular pig? Tolkien never had to argue the Ents into existence, nor Hobbits, but grown men seeking divination from a sow ... I needed some convincing that I never received.

That Ain't no Bull! Or, maybe it is...

2009-11-16T12:54:00.003-05:00

The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf. 1963.

Detailed line drawings showing wonderful expression and a grand fairy tale opening make for a timeless story.

Dear Ferdinand is different: so common to a child’s experience, so engaging. Through an unexpected twist (he sits on a bee) it is he that ends up in the bullfight, where the humans—gasp—poke and stab bulls! But Ferdinand escapes this horrible fate simply by being himself.

An encouraging story for every child who has felt the weight of not being like everyone else.

Aside: I’m also often struck by how violent these older books can be. Would this fly in today’s market? Hmmm. Also, interesting political readings of this story ... but more on that later.

Chilling History Lessons

2009-11-08T14:14:00.006-05:00

Hitler Youth: Growing Up in Hitler’s Shadow by Susan Campbell Bartoletti. Scholastic, 2005.

Fascinating and similar in tone and writing style to Darkness Over Denmark. Both take the individual stories from this horrid time in history and weave them into a steady and powerful narrative. I found myself caught up in the history—like that Hitler coming to power after the great depression meant a world-wide work shortage and tight immigration quotas so that the Jews who might have otherwise escaped to friendly countries couldn’t.

Little different from fiction in that a visual image is painted with detail (none of it superfluous).
Shows so clearly that the Germans being satisfied with simple answers seems childlike because those driving Hitler’s movement were indeed children. The children weren’t trained to think, rather to obey. Reason was set aside entirely.
Several stories within stuck with me: Aktion T4, the top secret program to kill physically and mentally disabled people, and White Rose, the group of students who published the truth. Ultimately the group was caught and beheaded. Also the description on page 146 of the young soldiers, captured now, being led into a liberated concentration camp. Inmates flanked the boys, ghastly, like wraths.
The key quote on page 149: “... the children and teenagers of the Third Reich had been betrayed, deserted, and sacrificed by a party and a regime that had used them to attain power.”
Fabulous details in a straightforward narrative.

Brrrrrrrrrrr

2009-11-06T12:52:00.000-05:00

The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats. Puffin Books, 1962.

Keats captures the wonder of a snowy day in the story of Peter’s enjoyment of the season’s first snow. He shows pleasures that might seem mundane to an adult, dragging of a stick to make tracks, whapping a tree for the onomatopoeic “Plop!” of snow falling on Peter’s head. Illustrations that appear like paper cut-outs, simplified almost to the point of silhouette, mirror the simplicity of the text. A perfect snowy day read.

Song of the Waterboatman

2009-10-11T14:11:00.000-04:00

The Song of the Waterboatman and other Pond Poems by Joyce Sidman. Houghton Mifflin, 2005.

Stunning illustrations. And lovely poems. I’m not sure they capture essence as well as Zolotow. I’m perhaps looking for an Annie Dillard of children’s poetry, but maybe Sidman is more accessible to a child than Zolotow (who is more Dillardy).

--The Caddis Fly is fascinating and I love the use of the word whorled. What a cool word!
The NF sidebars are clear and concise, but I found myself wishing they were a little more lyrical.
Colors used in the illustration for Season’s Campaign are delicious. I wanted to roll in them, to wake up there. That poem reminds me of an eternal favorite and classic, Hailstones and Halibut Bones.
Water Bear is fascinating too. This is why macro-evolution takes far more faith than I can muster.

Dark Tales of Dark Times

2009-10-09T14:17:00.008-04:00

Darkness Over Denmark by Ellen Levine. Holiday House, 2000.

The moving story of Danish resistance to Hitler’s reign of terror. Levine finds the human stories in the history and weaves them together deftly, putting a face on events that would otherwise be abstract and distant from contemporary youth. Some thoughts:

Details: that’s where the devil is, to be sure. Levine’s text is drenched in detail, adding authenticity and making her scenes memorable.
Personal stories: stories of individuals obtained through research and interview are interwoven with the history to enhance and illumine the narrative.
Vivid: The writing is clear and precise, yet passionate. The author’s interest in and enthusiasm for this topic is clear on every page. I kept remembering the urgency and horror of Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five.

2009-10-06T13:08:00.012-04:00

Grandfather’s Journey by Allen Say. 1993.

I read this book for a children’s lit course way back in college (1997 or so). While I appreciate the family story and love the skilled watercolors, I’m not now and wasn’t then overly enthusiastic about this book.

Artistically, the pictures are very posed (stiff) and though lovely, do not create a sense of movement, an urgency to flip from one page to the next. I suppose they could be seen as poised (vs. posed), like pictures in an old photo album. But does that increase the sense of movement, or further distance the reader?

And although the story gives a sense of history and place, it’s so nostalgic that I wonder if it can really capture a child audience. A lovely tribute to a grandfather, a multicultural travel story, but Great Children’s Literature?

The book is stunningly illustrated, but perhaps one of those (growing number of) picture books more aimed at adults than children.