Newest Acquisitions

  • Children’s Treasury: Best-Loved Verse illustrated by Margaret Tarrant
  • The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
  • Regarding the Fountain by Kate Klise
  • Boxen: The Imaginary World of the Young by C.S. Lewis
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Your Voice

It’s your voice. Cherish it. Respect it. Nurture it. Challenge it. Stretch it. Scream it until it’s fucking gone. Because everyone’s blessed with at least that, and who knows how long it will last.

–Dave Grohl, SXSW 2013 Keynote Speech

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Writing, Old-Style

I recently read an article that said there are four benefits to writing by hand.

  • Better writing
  • Improved learning
  • Less distraction
  • Nimbler brain

Thanks to carpal tunnel symptoms, I’ve been writing by hand more and more often. With four more reasons to do so, I might have to give up the computer as a writing tool altogether.

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The Truth About Fruit

Marshall says,

Monkeys eat bananas. Boys eat apples.

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Two Wonderful Books

I had the good fortune to read two wonderful books recently: Holes by Louis Sachar (which I had read once before) and Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick (which was new to me). The stories are completely different, but the books are similar in that they both involve a story of the past intersecting with one in the present. That is a hard thing to carry off, and both authors succeeded brilliantly.

Holes by Louis Sachar
Grade: A+

In Holes, teenager Stanley Yelnats, whose name is the same forwards as backwards, is convicted (wrongly) of a crime and sent to Camp Green Lake as a punishment. There’s no lake at Camp Green Lake. It’s dry, hot, and crawling with scorpions, rattlesnakes, and worst of all, yellow-spotted lizards. And at this terrible place, each “camper” must dig a hole, five feet high and five feet wide, every single day. In between scenes of Stanley learning to dig holes and getting to know the other people at the camp, we are told the stories of some of his ancestors. Their stories and Stanley’s eventually connect in an interesting way.

Holes is such a well-plotted book. Everything ties together, but it doesn’t feel forced. I also think it’s a very positive story. Other people complain about certain elements being unrealistic and others being overly violent. Obviously those people have never read fairy tales before! And that’s what Holes is, a modern fairy tale. I recommend it highly. However, since the main character is a teenager and there is violence, I’d classify the book as YA, just to be safe.

Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick
Grade: A+

In Wonderstruck, the main character, Ben, has just lost his mother, and he’s unhappy living with his aunt and uncle. When he discovers tantalizing clues about his father, whom he has never met, he runs away to New York City to look for him. Interspersed with the Ben’s narrative (told in text) is the story of a deaf girl (told in pictures), and the book ends with the connection of the two story lines.

Wonderstruck is a big book. I’m not afraid of big books. Really, I’m not. But I have to admit that given how little time I have for reading, a long book is not likely to be my first choice. I’m glad I didn’t let the length scare me off. The story is actually short enough to read within a few hours. The pictures are what make it appear so long, and they don’t take a lot of time.

The pictures also make the book stand out. Parts of the story are depicted as scenes from a silent film. It’s not a style I’d want all books to follow, but it works beautifully in this particular case, because the story is about deaf people. As you watch the silent movie play, you get to feel just a tiny hint of what being deaf might be like.

I read some reviews in which people compared this book unfavorably with another Selznick work, The Invention of Hugo Cabret. Having not read that book, perhaps I avoided some kind of prejudice toward Wonderstruck. All I can do is judge it on its own merits, and I think it’s great. It left me me feeling a bit wonderstruck myself. Many thanks to my friend, Sprite, for giving the book to me.

P.S. Because this book is so large, I recommend breaking it in before reading it. I didn’t, and that may be why the spine warped as I was reading. For those who don’t know how to break in a book, I found a nice explanation at Sophistimom.

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Favorite Thing: My Husband’s Sense of Humor

My husband recently found a shelf that I had purchased for my condo but had never used. He thought we should put it in the master bathroom of our house. Not that it matches our bathroom decor at all (nothing in this universe does, or should), but just to make use of the shelf finally. So we agreed on a place to put it and he installed it. He then arranged our respective tubes of toothpaste on it, rolling each tube up so that it looked sort of like a seal sunning itself on a beach. I saw what he had done just before I went to bed. I thought it was cute. I responded by placing the two tubes in a compromising position. When I got up in the morning, I found them arranged like this:

Baby Toothpaste

This is what happens when toothpaste tubes can’t control themselves.

I love my husband’s sense of humor, and it’s things like this toothpaste tableau that have kept me with him for all these years. Sure, he can make me angrier than anyone else can. Like Agatha Christie once had Miss Marple say, “You can only really get under anybody’s skin if you are married to them.” But no one can make me laugh like he can, either. He has given me the gift of laughter almost every day for all the years that we’ve been together. And that’s why my husband’s sense of humor is one of My Favorite Things.

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Playing the Glad Game

No Pollyanna am I, but I really should try to look on the bright side more. Here’s goes.

  • The snowblower ate my favorite scarf. The scarf gave as good as it got, ripping the axle right off the snowblower. On the bright side, I was not wearing the scarf at the time of the incident. My husband eventually managed to get the snowblower working again, and my mom said she’d make a new scarf for me.
  • After many hours of searching for a new comforter, I finally found one that I liked. I ordered it plus some matching drapes. The plan was to paint the bedroom in colors to match. The drapes arrived almost immediately, but the comforter set was back-ordered, so we waited patiently. For almost two months! The promised ship date came and went, I called the store, they said it would ship the next day. Two days later, I got an e-mail stating that they had canceled the order. I was angry, disappointed, frustrated. On the bright side, I hadn’t seen the comforter in person, so I couldn’t be sure of the color. The blue in the drapes had a disturbing hint of teal. I hate teal. So I’m going to assume Universe just wanted to save me from a teal bedroom. The store took the drapes back without a problem.
  • The Monday holiday did me no favors. It was a long week. I spent over 12 hours working on Wednesday so that I could meet my Thursday deadline.  On the bright side, my magazine is done and the next few weeks of work will be easy and fun.
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Thank You for Writing

A book inscription is a wonderful thing. I know that’s not a universal sentiment. Some people, such as serious book collectors, are more likely to look upon an inscription as a blemish. But if you’re like me and really interested in stories, then you might see an inscription as part of the story of the book itself. At the very least, an inscription is permanent proof that someone cared enough to give the gift of the written word. At its best, an inscription yields tantalizing clues into the history of the book and a glimpse into the heart of a person who once thought the book was worthy of bestowing on another.

Many of the books in my library have inscriptions. Some were written to me. I feel happy and grateful and pleasantly nostalgic when I see them. Some were written to previous owners. They, too, have the power to make me smile, but they also fill my mind with questions. For example, my copy of Tuck Everlasting has this inscription:

For J— from Natalie Babbitt 3/90

There’s something just a little bit special about a signed copy and knowing that the author physically held the book, if only for a moment. But where is J— now? And why did this book leave her possession? I wonder.

One of my joke books has an inscription saying, “L—, this book had your name on it!” I guess the joke is that the book still has his name on it and always will, though he gave it away long ago. But why did he he give it away? Was it because he didn’t think it was funny? Was he just not a bookish type of guy? I wonder.

There’s a very nice inscription in one of my quote books. It says,

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” I think that’s where you and I connect—in our mutual insanity—and I want you to know I’ll be thinking of you every day of your exhilarating and mad journey.

Paper-clipped to the page is a picture of the giver and the recipient together (though I don’t know which is which). Both young women look like people I ought to know, or might like to know. Does the inscriber still sometimes think of her friend? Did her friend fail to see the inscription or forget it was there? Did they have a falling out? I wonder.

If the writers of these inscriptions were to see this blog post, they might be unhappy to know that their gifts have since moved on to someone else. To them I would say that we can’t control how our gifts, or the words we write, will be received, or where they will go once they leave our hands, or even how long they will last. This has always been a risk for both gift-givers and writers, because often they put a little bit of their hearts into these things. That’s part of why they’re special. So I thank the writers of these inscriptions for giving me their words, even the ones who did so unintentionally, because I treasure them as I treasure the books.

Inscriptions are probably rarer now than they once were, and in this day of e-books, they may be on the verge of extinction. There is no digital equivalent for a book inscription. That’s one of the reservations I have about switching to an e-reader. E-books are not shared the same way as print books. They don’t have the longevity. They are like ghosts, dependent on electricity to give them form. A real book, though, is something that can last for hundreds of years. It can move from place to place, person to person, picking up little bits of hearts and history along the way. That’s a wonderful thing.

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A Typical Conversation

Me: Hey, I’ve read well over 50 of the Top 100 Children’s Books now, so I’m more than halfway through the list.
My Husband:  Yeah, so when are you going to start reading the adult list?
Me: When I grow up.

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A Thought for Today

I doubt anyone could become a great writer without first being an avid reader, but being an avid reader doesn’t magically make one a great writer.

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