NaNoWriMo NoMo

No, I will not be participating in National Novel Writing Month this year.  I'm a two-time NaNoWriMo loser, in fact, but I'm grateful for what the experience taught me about myself as a writer.  It was this passage from a speech by Jane Yolen (quoted in an interview with Yolen at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, 8/20/08) that reconciled me to it, though:

Now, there are two kinds of writers in the world [writes Jane], and they were described for me by my friend Susan Schwartz.  "I," she said, "am a mad monk, going up a rock face with a rather large chisel and carving out great swaths of story.  But you are a gem polisher.  You take a small, wonderful gem of a tale and polish it till it shines."

I'm the first to admit that I'm no Jane Yolen (ni mucho menos), and I'm not entirely sure whether this passage is speaking to process or product, but if gem-polishing works for her (and she's incredibly prolific, too) then maybe I can make it work for me.

Even though I'm not participating, I want to cheer on the "mad monks" among us who are.  Who are you?  And what's your novel about?

Half Magic at the library sale

I had to return some books before the library opened on Sunday morning and (I swear I didn't plan this) got there just in time for the big Friends of the Library book sale.  I managed to limit myself to a handful of middle grade paperbacks and a hardcover copy of Anno's Journey by Mitsumasa Anno, but I really shouldn't have:  apparently everything is half price on the last day of the book sale.  Do you think that was good news (I only spent half as much as I thought I would) or bad (I could have bought twice as much as I did)?  Me, too.

I did pick up a copy of Edward Eager's Half Magic to read with the kids, although sadly not the glorious 50th anniversary edition (Harcourt, 2004) shown here.  I'm beginning to think I picked up the magic charm in the book (it grants you half of whatever you wish for) somewhere along the way, too.

Toby Alone

I'm currently reading Toby Alone by Timothee de Fombelle (translated by Sarah Ardizzone; illustrated by Francois Place; Candlewick, 2009).  There's Toby on the cover of the book, larger than life:  he's really only one-and-half millimeters tall, and his whole world is a great oak Tree, just like the ones in my backyard.  I'm reading the library's copy, so I can't see the map of the Tree on the other side of the cover, but spot illustrations in pen-and-ink appear frequently throughout.  Maybe it's better that I can't see the whole Tree, actually;  neither can the tiny people who live in it, and that's part of their problem.

Part of my problem is that I've lost my mind--or rather, the key to it.  The metaphor is scientist Sim Lolness's:

"Every brain has its key," [Toby's] father always used to say. "Mine is my bed.  Yours is your plate.  Eat before you think, or you'll think badly."  (48)

My key is solitude.  Companionable quiet will also work.  Both have been in short supply lately; in the last week or so alone I've attended everything from my 20-year high school reunion to KidlitCon (guess which was better?!).  Right now I'm making room for more quiet in which to read and write and think.

In the meantime, I would love to know what your keys (or your children's) might be.  Sleep, food, quiet, or something else entirely--what do you need to think your best?

A Birthday for Bear (at last!)

Bear and Mouse (small and gray and bright-eyed, of course) are back, just in time to celebrate Bear's birthday--whether Bear wants to or not, in A Birthday for Bear by Bonny Becker, illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton (Candlewick, 2009). We first met Bear and Mouse in last year's picture book A Visitor for Bear, which won the E.B. White Read Aloud Award. Now the unlikely pair returns in an early reader from Candlewick Sparks.

The early reader format makes sense for Bear and Mouse, who are literary descendants of Frog and Toad, and it suits Becker's storytelling here as well. While I miss the spaciousness and surprises of Visitor, Mouse's attempts to deliver balloons, a present, and finally a chocolate cake to Bear in Birthday fall nicely into short chapters. Spoiler alert:  The cake succeeds!  I'm not sure about the present, though.

Interestingly, the next Bear and Mouse book, A Bedtime for Bear (Spring 2010), will be another picture book. From Becker's website: "Bear has Mouse over for Bear’s first ever sleep over. But in order to sleep, Bear must have quiet, absolute quiet. To Bear’s great frustration and growing annoyance, Mouse is far from quiet as a…well, you know." I sort of wish that everyone involved had chosen one format or the other and stuck with it. My vote would be for the picture book, but A Birthday for Bear is a great choice for newly independent readers...and you can read it aloud, too.

Catwings and a Kindle of Kittens

The Catwings books by Ursula K. Le Guin seem so appealing.  Kittens with wings!  There they are in S.D. Schindler's pen-and-ink drawings, perched on a branch of tree or curled up beside their mother ("How is the milk this morning, children?" she asks them, which I loved).  "A small gem of a book," says PW.  "A lovely, gentle fantasy," Horn Book.  "Contemporary and timeless," New York Times Book Review.

Be that as it may, bookstogether is here to tell you that if you have a sensitive child, perhaps one who just started kindergarten this very day, you may not make it past the place where Mrs. Tabby says to her kittens, "I think you are ready.  I want you to have a good dinner and fly away--far away."  Because they're not ready.  And neither are you.

[See also Rumer Godden's A Kindle of Kittens (illustrated by Lynne Byrnes; Viking, 1978), which is a sort of cautionary tale for single cat mothers.  We didn't read that one, either.  But it may interest you to know that the verb to kindle can mean to give birth, and a kindle is the collective noun for--kittens!  Probably not what Amazon had in mind.]

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate

Sometimes I wish that girls in books who were interested in science could also happen to like needlework.  Calpurnia Tate doesn't, but I've read so many great reviews of Jacqueline Kelly's The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate (Henry Holt, 2009) that I'm willing to let it go.  Maybe a girl living in Texas in 1899 didn't have the luxury of liking both and would have had to commit to one or the other?  Also, look at that glorious cover (it's by Beth White, who also did the cover for The Monsters of Templeton).  Anyway, Amanda at A Patchwork of Books has three copies of Calpurnia to give away:  maybe one of them will be mine.  Or yours!  Or...mine.

Anticipating my Thirteenth Child

Patricia Wrede's Thirteenth Child (Scholastic, 2009) has been on my to-read list since early spring, when I first heard it described as Little House on the Prairie meets Harry Potter.  Since then, I've heard it described as a lot of other, more problematic things, primarily due to Wrede's decision to eliminate Native Americans from the North American ("Columbian") continent: there are mammoths and other megafauna instead.  [Pause.]  A copy is waiting for me on the hold shelf at the library; I'm anxious to read it, if not for the same reasons I had been, and judge for myself.

Reviews by Jo Walton at Tor.com (many comments), Charlotte's Library (I heard it here first), and A Fuse #8 Production (Review of the Day).

Have you read it yet?  If not, does this controversy make it more or less likely that you will?

Another Little Princess

If I were going to write a sequel to Frances Hodgson Burnett's beloved A Little Princess, I wouldn't necessarily write it about Ermengarde.  Ermengarde, the "fat child who did not look as if she were in the least clever," never interested me much.

But Hilary McKay's Wishing for Tomorrow (Hodder, Fall 2009 in the UK) begins with Ermengarde's thirteenth birthday.  After I heard this (at the Guardian books blog, of course), I reread A Little Princess, for the first time in many years.  McKay's choice of Ermengarde makes more sense to me now, and I think McKay--author of the Casson Family books, all five of which I read in February--will make her rather less dull than she once seemed.

Now, if one were going to write a sequel to The Secret Garden, unnecessary as it may (also) seem, who would it be about?

Greetings from Martha at the National Book Festival

You would be forgiven if you wandered into the National Book Festival and wondered, "Where are the books?" Leo asked me that the first time we went, and I think it's a valid question. There are authors, tents, people (more than 120,000 this year), and lines (sometimes very long lines, like the line through security to get into the children's tent while Laura and Jenna Bush were reading), but not very many actual books. I think there may have been some for sale near the Capitol (where the book signings happen), but other than that: no.

The kids had a great time at the Let's Read America Pavilion, though. They got their picture taken with Martha of Martha Speaks! (the PBS KIDS program) and listened to author and illustrator Susan Meddaugh talk about the real Martha, and about how she got the idea for the Martha books (from her son, who was in second grade at the time). Meddaugh also read (an actual book!) Perfectly Martha. We love the Martha books (Martha Blah Blah is my favorite), so Meddaugh's session was a highlight of the festival. As was the performance from the cast of the all-new Electric Company. Hey you guuuys!

I admit: I think it's a little problematic that PBS KIDS promotes its television programs so heavily at an event that's all about reading. Granted, PBS KIDS Raising Readers does a lot to help children improve the skills they need to learn to read. And other PBS KIDS programs are based on children's books, too. Maybe it's just me. My kids (who don't even watch TV) didn't seem to mind: they were more than happy to meet Clifford the Big Red Dog (online at Scholastic and PBS KIDS). The line for him was pretty long, too!

Miss Malaprop

I'm rereading Little Women for my neighborhood book club (we're reading it together with March by Geraldine Brooks).  I must have been younger than Amy when I first read Little Women; I've reread it (or parts of it) countless times since then.  It's like an old friend to me.

That said, I had forgotten how irritating Amy's malapropisms can be.  They start on p.3 with "label" for "libel"  and don't stop until Amy goes abroad (at least I hope they stop by then.  I haven't gotten that far yet).  She's the literary forerunner of Junie B. Jones, for goodness' snake!  And all the other fictional children who too-frequently mistake one word for another (Clementine, I'm talking to you).  As far as I'm concerned, it's only funny when my kids do it.  Not to worry, though: I won't quote them here.

PF: Someday When MY Cat Can Talk

I suppose I should be pleased that the cat in Caroline Lazo's charming picture book Someday When My Cat Can Talk (illustrated by Kyrsten Brooker; Schwartz and Wade, 2008) made it to Spain on his European adventure at all.  But here's what he has to say about it:

He'll talk about events in Spain--
like bullfights every spring.
And he'll praise himself for stopping one
by jumping in the ring.

At the back of the book, Lazo notes that "[b]ullfighting is Spain's best known and most-unusual spectacle, but today many people think it is cruel to kill bulls--or any animals--for sport, and hope it will end soon."  While I'm not accusing Lazo of perpetuating the leyenda negra in picture book form, I'm disappointed that she chose bullfighting to represent Spain.  No other country is represented negatively.  Next time, may I suggest that the cat make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, read Don Quijote, dance flamenco or visit the Alhambra instead?

[Disclaimer:  No bulls were harmed in the writing of this post.  And the Poetry Friday roundup is at author amok.  Thanks!]

Twilight; perhaps you've heard of it?

I try to stay away from vampires. That includes vampire books, movies, and television shows (sorry, Buffy). Not interested. But I haven't been able to avoid the hype about tonight's release of the fourth and final book in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn (I didn't even have to look any of that up). A lot of what I've read, including this article by Laura Yao in the Washington Post ("Bitten and Smitten," 8/01/08), is about the Twilight series as a publishing phenomenon on a par with Harry Potter, and about its predominantly female fan base of daughters and (gasp!) their moms. But Laura Miller, in Salon, offers a damning critique of Twilight in the context of literary vampirism and traditional feminine fantasy as well ("Touched by a Vampire," 7/30/08). I'm beginning to wonder if I should read it myself, if only to know what everyone's talking about, and despite the fact that (see above) I'm not even interested in vampires. Help! They're sucking me in.

Elizabeth Ward's For Young Readers

It seems as if every week another Washingon Post columnist announces his or her decision to accept the Post's offer of early retirement.  I don't know if Elizabeth Ward, who writes the Post's biweekly For Young Readers column, is taking early retirement or just moving on after "seven years worth of dragons," but her farewell is in today's Book World.  According to Ward, "[a]bsolutely the best part of reviewing is discovery;" here she takes a look back at some of her most memorable discoveries in the field of children's literature.  I was surprised to find that I hadn't read many (any!) of her favorites, but I have to agree with her on Kate Di Camillo's The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane.  Read her last column here.

I wonder who will be taking over the For Young Readers column?  Or might the Post replace it or even eliminate it altogether?  Watch this space.

Baseball, gratis

We went to a Nationals game yesterday afternoon, our first game at Nats Park (thank you to Angie, my generous neighbor and loyal reader, for the tickets!). The Nats won! They always do when Leo goes to the game; it's been five games now, and counting.  I hope we make it to a few more this summer; the Nats could use his help.  And Milly likes to run the bases after the game.

Even though we didn't have to pay for our tickets (thanks again, Angie! We had a great time), this wasn't free baseball. That's a term for "a game that gives fans more than they technically paid for--extra innings or the second game of a doubleheader," as defined by Sue Corbett in her middle grade novel Free Baseball (Dutton, 2006).  I checked this book out of the library for Leo and I to read together because it's about baseball (obviously), and because the main character, eleven-year-old Little League player Felix Piloto, is Cuban-American (so am I).  I was hoping it would give us more than we technically paid for--more, that is, than just baseball.  And it does; it's a fine novel about Felix's search for the truth about his father, a famous baseball player in Cuba, that also deals with the immigrant experience in general and the situation in Cuba in particular (where nothing, including baseball, is free).  It was well-reviewed by Jen Robinson and Camille at BookMoot.

N.b., I was bothered by the mistakes in the Spanish words and phrases that appear in the book and its glossary.  Some mistakes were idiomatic, others grammatical.  In a few cases the constructions were just too formal.  But each time I came across one, I lost confidence in the story and in Corbett's otherwise sensitive telling of it.  It's true that most readers won't know Spanish, let alone the Cuban dialect, but I don't think that's an excuse for getting it wrong.  Free Baseball deserves better.

Next up:  Mike Lupica's Heat.  Baseball book recommendations most welcome!

Nonfiction Monday: Gray?

These are the opening lines of The Secret World of Hildegard, a picture book biography of Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179) written by Jonah Winter and illustrated by Jeannette Winter (Arthur A. Levine Books, 2007):

Hundreds and hundreds of years ago in a time known as the Middle Ages, men ruled over the earth.  And these men were very gray.  And the buildings they built were very gray.  And all the towns were very gray.  And all the gray towns were run by mayors who were men.  Girls were not allowed to go to school, and most girls could not read.  They were taught to serve and obey all the boys around them.  They were taught to keep quiet and to be very gray.

Is this an accurate description of the Middle Ages?  Is it how most people imagine them (not my former students, I hope)?  Or does it function as a dramatic device, as the Horn Book's review (available here) suggests; one that allows the Winters to "set the scene perfectly: out of the dark, gray world of the Middle Ages shines the radiant light of visionary Hildegard."  Is it acceptable (if also, I would argue, overly generalizing and negative in the extreme) for a nonfiction picture book?

I'm a medievalist. I would have loved this small square volume (I, or rather my kids, are probably its intended audience):  Jonah Winter's writing is simple and elegant; Jeannette Winter's illuminations, done in acrylic and pen on watercolor paper, manage to be both medieval and modern (and gorgeous).  There is a good author's note expanding on Hildegard's fame as a scientist and composer as well as a mystic visionary; and a bibliography.  If I could only get past the first page.