Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Lucky Jim (copy)

I booked a trip across the pond this week during arm-chair travel. A delightful three days were spent in early 1950’s Leicester, England, at a university one mile south of London. My tour guide for the event was none other than James Dixon, the bumbling hero of Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis.


In this neo-classic, Dixon is a WWII veteran who lucks into a career as Instructor of History at an unnamed university south of London. He is profusely unqualified to teach and hopes others will not notice. It is bad when students use words he recognizes, but remains unaware of definitions. For instance, the word scholasticism, he thinks it might be a good idea to “look up” since he drops it into many conversations with students and faculty alike.

One of the things he is expected to accomplish in his first year is a published article. His, The Economic Effect of the Developments in Shipbuilding Techniques, 1450 to 1485 is a complete bore and editors revel in writing his rejection letters.

Since, this avenue is looking bleak he decides to run plan B where he charms Professor Welsh, head of the history department, into becoming great friends. At the beginning of the book we find Dixon, tripping over his words to please Welsh. He listens actively as Welsh orates, but internally he makes faces at the pompous wind-bag.

It is this stroll from one building to another, when Welsh ask him a favor. Would he speak on behalf of the history department at College Open Week possibly along the lines of his favorite subject Medieval History? Dixon is quick to say, “Yes, Professor.” Unfortunately, Welsh assigns the subject; something on “Merrie England” will be perfect since it is academic, but then again, not.

Dixon is at a loss. He wrote the article but now finds he has become the college’s expert on the Middle Ages. A subject he finds just as boring as his article, leads to another problem. How long can he pretend to be even remotely interested in history, too?

Lucky Jim is a comedy of errors as Dixon stumbles again-and-again socially and professionally only to come out on top in the end. Readers are left bemused as he squeaks through unbelievable situations to emerge smelling like a rose.
Note: The cover art is by Edward Gorey!

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Heretic's Daughter (copy)

Not only do I travel to Salem, Massachusetts, but travel back in time to the year of our Lord, 1690, in this week’s book The Heretic’s Daughter by Kathleen Kent.

The story opens with this foretelling paragraph:

“In 1630 Governor Winthrop of the Massachusetts Bay Colony took a small group of men and women from the old England to the new. These Puritans, so they were named, would make a place in the colonies by surviving war, plague, and the work of the Devil in a small village called Salem. One woman and her family would stand against religious tyranny, suffering imprisonment, torture, and death. Her outraged and defiant words were recorded by Cotton Mather, who called her, The Queen of Hell. Her name was Martha Carrier.”
Kent is a direct descendant of Martha Carrier on her mother’s side. She grew up hearing the stories passed from generation to generation and includes most in this slow-paced historical fiction. The Carriers were known to feed their cow pumpkins to make golden milk, and the children made bows and arrows shooting them above each other’s heads ala William Tell.

When I say slow-paced, I do not mean in the negative sense. She sets the stage for the atrocities by framing meanness and petty jealousies within the Carrier family and their surrounding neighbors. Rumors and innuendoes fill the first half of the book then the story rolls faster as accusations begin the ultimate downhill spiral.

It was said John Carrier brought plague to his chosen settlement, Billerica. Many years prior to establishing his family, he lived with this bitterness associated with the name Carrier. Now, after learning their neighbor has died of the pox, John’s wife, Martha, packs the families’ things for her grandmother’s in Andover. It was their son, Andrew, who carried the contagion to the new community. Like father like son, they would say.

The story is narrated by nine-year-old Sarah Carrier. Looking back on the story she retells, it is in the wagon to Andover she leaves the carefree life of a toddler and becomes aware of the surrounding world. Author Kent picked one so young to explain happenings as she sees them without mucking the waters with her own theories. Through Sarah, readers are not privy to the parent’s conversations and make do with the child’s point of view. Sarah soon turns 10 and has a keen eye for the wicked.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Greasy Rider (copy)

Continuing this summer’s armchair travel theme, it is time for a road trip. This week I hopped in the car with Greg Melville and his college buddy, Iggy, for a cross country from Vermont to California as reported in Melville’s book Greasy Rider. As one may guess, this is not a typical vacation. We are traveling in a 1985 Mercedes 300TD wagon converted to burn vegetable oil, and we are proving to be the first “Greasecar” to traverse America.

Did you know that diesel engines were designed to run on vegetable oil instead of fossil fuels? When Rudolf Diesel designed his first engine he powered it with peanut oil. His idea was to maintain a farmer’s self-sufficient nature by allowing him to produce fuel from his own crop to run a flywheel engine. In the 1900s this might have been practical, but in the age of relatively cheap diesel fuel it is slightly easier to pump from a gas station than plant, fertilize, irrigate, spray insecticide, etc. a crop, for example cotton for the cottonseed oil.

Yes, today’s diesel engines can burn vegetable oil after installing a conversion kit. Unfortunately, Melville’s kit cost $8,000 and to most owners who already have a car note this added expense is too pricey. It is easy to justify the onetime expense when fuel is free though. With an additional $25, one can purchase a filter system and then pull to the back of any fast food restaurant and ask for the used deep-fry oil.

As you can guess, we got a little on the Kentucky Fried Chicken side of funky. At the first toll booth we were waved through as a possible gesture of support, or the fact that we reminded him it was time for lunch. Whatever the case, we made ourselves hungry, too as the smell permeated our clothes and hair after one day on the road.

There are two bad scenarios associated with free fry oil. One, we have to ask for permission to take the used oil. Two, filtering is a nasty project. We quickly got over the embarrassment of asking since many times the need outweighed the humiliation. Most often we gained permission only to find the oil dumpster empty or the oil full of chunks such as taco chips. Filtering can be a fast process if the oil is clean; otherwise, we purchased in bulk fuses that blew with the chunks. Out of frustration one night, Iggy ran to the nearby Wal-Mart and purchased Wesson.

Off route, readers will also visit attractions such as Al Gore’s not so green home in Tennessee, a geothermal heated and cooled Fort Knox in Kentucky, a “green” Wal-Mart in Texas, and a solar-powered Google in California. Sit back and enjoy the scenery in this eco-friendly read.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Summer Reading Program 2009


My plan was to read Kid Tea by Elizabeth Ficocelli (2007), but when I arrived Veneda was setting them up with garbage sack smocks and they had exactly 30 minutes to be done with the craft and back at the elementary school!

The book has a great sing-song verse, for example "elbows-green-with-grass day, knees-and-toes-to-match day." On the next page young footballer is in the tub with the lines, "Dunk me in the tub, please, for green kid tea!" The idea that goes along with the book, is have the children make tea with the different colored paints as they rinse between hand prints. Both tubs were pink when we finished! :D

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

2nd Book Report Due July 15!

Mary's ready! How 'bout you!!!
Y'all are reading so fast!
Good job!
Now promise me you will visit with one another.
You know, "Set a spell."

The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam (copy)

Note: This is written for North Mississippi newspaper audiences. I do not want to start another challenge!

Is money tight and options for travel this summer limited? Why don’t we wander all over the world through books? For the next two months, let us globe trot on the cheap. Pull out a world map and push-pin the many places visited without burning gas or running up huge room service bills. Do not forget the starting point (Somewhere, Mississippi) and then join them with string.

I gain a huge head start with Ann Marie Fleming’s graphic memoir of her great-grandfather in The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam. This story took me to China, Europe, North America, Japan, and Australia.

Long Tack Sam is virtually unknown to American audiences today, but in the 20’s and 30’s his vaudeville and magic act were world renown. Fleming puzzled how someone so famous could be completely forgotten in history. She, even as a close relative, did not know the extent of his fame, fortune and the exploits of his troupe. The book unfolds as she discovers the Long story.

Born in 1885, Long Tack Sam ran away from his home in the Shangdung Province of China to join the circus. This area of China is known for providing many schools in acrobat training. He became an apprentice to a magician and expanded his act with magic. Along the way he perfected the Goldfish Bowl Trick that consist of a little dance, forward tumble into a standing position then raising arms to reveal a bowl full of goldfish. He last performed this trick at age 73.

Long Tack Sam began to accumulate money and fame at a young age. While still traveling with the circus he met his future wife in Austria. He needed soap and toothpaste and behind the counter stood Leopoldine Roesler. Love at first sight? Well, this is how genealogy works. We can assume they liked each other enough to marry, have three children and live together until Long died. To add romance without fact would be misleading, but it was Poldi who became his financial manager and the force behind his touring as leader of his own troupe.

Fleming is a director and The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam first appeared as a documentary in 2003. The graphic memoir was produced in 2007 after the successful movie. It is apparent, Fleming has an inherent humor for the arts like her great-grandfather who became an acrobat, magician, comic, business owner (restaurants and theatres), impresario, teacher, and according to the comic George Burns, “the greatest act in the history of vaudeville!”

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Haiku Review Time


Ready to win an autographed hardback of Mudbound by Hillary Jordan?
Why Maggie, I don't know nothin' 'bout writin' no hi-kus!
Don't be silly! We won't follow those stiff Japanese rules. No need to mention the season or what happens to be bloomin' in the backyard. Let's keep it simple and use the 5-7-5 format, as in 5 syllables for the first line, 7 syllables for the second, and 5 for the ending. Place your Southern Haiku in a post then leave a post specific URL on Mister Linky here. One may enter as many times as a haiku is written for southern books read this summer. Contest ends July 31, 2009.
For fun, you may choose not to tell the book's title and let bloggers guess. Here is an example of one I recently read. Too easy, huh?!?
The quick brown fox jumps
amazingly over the
la*y dog sans z.

Friday, June 05, 2009

Friday Winners!



We have some winners!

That's raight! My lazy butt forgot to draw last Friday! I would say there has been a slow start on my part to the challenge. So sorry!

I'd like to talk with you about sum maintenance. In the sidebar you can see the SRCIII button and "Sign Up" and "First Review" underneath which are highlighted. Click the highlight and go directly to that post. Don't feel like you cannot participate because you missed a post. I made it easy and will continue with the contests in the same manner until the end of the challenge. This way our first contest "Haiku Review" can be entered multiple times during the summer for a chance at a hardback Mudbound signed by the lovely Hillary Jordan. Please visit fellow southern bloggers and Good Luck!

Random Integer Generator
Here are your random numbers:
17 JMNLman @ Strategist Personal Library

29 Amelia @ Books Love Us
Timestamp: 2009-06-05 14:45:24 UTC

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Sweet Potato Queens Rule!





"On their own my eyeballs could be considered purely ornamental."

~ Jill Conner Browne

Tupelo native and first Mississippi Queen, Jill Conner Browne, has a laugh for you! All you have to do is read! Pay homage to the Queen here!



NONFICTION
Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love (1999)
God Save the Sweet Potato Queens (2001)
The SPQs' Big-Ass Cookbook (2003) Sweet Potato Queens' Field Guide to Men (2004)
The SPQs' Wedding Planner/Divorce Guide (2005)
The SPQs' First Big-Ass Novel (2007)
The SPQs' Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit (2008)
American Thighs: The SPQ's Guide to Preserving Your Assets (2008)

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

The Sweet Potato Queens' Guide to Raising Children for Fun & Profit (copy)

There are many ways to recommend a book. If I read something great I tell everybody. If a patron exalts the virtues of a certain book, I suggest read-a-likes. If someone is mulling around the library, I ask what they normally read and find the latest in that genre. For hubby, I search out new mysteries that earn star reviews. Then there are those books I only recommend to my friends using a hushed voice.

I used to have an older patron that came in every Monday morning with one goal. She wanted a “good” book for the week. It was one book and one book only, therefore I had one shot to make her happy. The following Monday she would come back with a critique that led us to more books by the same author or something totally different. I felt safe handing her cozy mysteries, Christian fiction and current bestsellers.

One day I was in my office on the phone when she entered. My lovely and highly capable assistant took her request and headed to the paperbacks. Still on the phone they returned to the counter, checked out the book and she went out the door before I could say, yay or nay. I turned to my assistant and asked, “What did you give her?”

“Oh, Nora Roberts,” she said very pleased with herself. (Nora Roberts is a romance writer who makes Danielle Steel, another romance writer, blush.)

When Monday rolled around, I eagerly awaited her return. She came in, slammed the book on the counter and said with a visible flinch, “Too Much Sex!” Smiling, she headed back to her old haunts to find another book. Then she walked back to the counter and began to hem-haw around, possibly waiting on my assistant, for 15 minutes; finally, she came out with it. “Do you have any more by that author?”

The book I am currently reading, The Sweet Potato Queens’ Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit by Tupelo native Jill Conner Browne, is filled with debauchery, specifically foul language, sexual tales and crude jokes. Not a book I would place in my mother’s hands.

Number seven in the eight book franchise, this one is funnier than most; although, the original, SPQ’s Book of Love, (1999) is the best. The humor is throughout the pages even penetrating the title as Browne tells readers, “yes…children are reared, corn is raised” and she (rolling her eyes) knows the difference. Psst—girlfriends, you have to read this!

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Book Report Due June 15!


First review time and Jill and Scrap Girl are ready!
To help with the conversation try to do a specific url on Mister Linky.
What?!?
Chill, it is real easy to do. Click the title of the post and a unique web address will appear in the www area. Copy and paste the address into Mister Linky and Timbo is your uncle! On June 15, I will choose a random number for pecans! Good Luck! Oh, and please visit the other reviewers. ;)

The Lost Art of Walking (copy)

I walk. I like to walk. I walk to clear my mind. I walk for exercise. I walk to think through problems. I walk to socialize. I walk to commune with nature. I walk to find money. I walk to pick up cans. I walk in the morning. I walk in the evening. I walk to escape. I walk therefore I am.

One day last summer, I was south of town walking towards home when I saw a white ball bobbling an inch off the ground around 20 feet in front of my path. It looked like a ping pong ball suspended in the air. As I got closer, I could see it was a spider, about the size of my fingernail, carrying her sac of unborn across the road.

The sheer beauty of the spider’s deed enthralled me. Had I not been out walking, I would have missed this spectacular feat. Had I been in a car, well.

Last week when I stumbled upon Geoff Nicholson’s new book The Lost Art of Walking, I smiled. Really, choosing to read a book about walking is no stretch, but I worried. Would it be entertaining?

Oddly enough, he begins his treatise on walking with the story of a fall. His fall in the California hills outside his home while photographing the surrounding scenery. One misstep and Nicholson saw the ground fast approaching. Was it a rock? Perhaps a root that tripped him. We will never know, but the fall left him with a broken arm that slowed his typing ability.

As readers, we benefit from his fall. The book is entertaining on so many levels. The subtitle, The History, Science, Philosophy, and Literature of Pedestrianism, hints to a comprehensive exploration of man’s unique gait.

In the first chapter alone the discussion turns from Nicholson’s personal fall to man’s first erect step as Homo sapiens. Then the brief dialogue evolves into baby’s first steps in the womb when you thought he was kicking. Next the conversation flows into the origins for all the different forms of the word walk. Did you know our English language has over 30 examples of the word such as hoof, pace, step, tread, plod, slog, lumber, hike, etc?

One might think this book unstructured, but they would be wrong. This is a well organized, fun romp into our basic need to get from point A to B. Be sure to amble through this read.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

First Week of Southern Living



Southern Reading
and the Livin' is Easy!

Hope you got a chance to start on one of your chosen books this week. Stella at Growing with Stella discovered Harry Crews' Blood and Grits this week and is enjoying her cross country 70s tour. Blood and Grits is a collection of nonfiction essays written for magazines like Playboy and Esquire. She now knows why Harry Crews is called the Father of the Rough South. A genre that is also known as Grit Lit or Dirty South. :D

I read Classic Crews: A Harry Crews Reader and loved it, but will say his writing is an acquired taste. He likes to shock and awe in a quite unnerving way. Others in this genre include the late Larry Brown, Tim McLaurin and Daniel Woodrell. My mouth was fly appealingly open after finishing Woodrell's The Death of Sweet Mister. A book I read but choose not to write about for the newspapers.

In the south, Sundays are spent at church and then eating lunch with the family. Growing up our routine was early church followed by Sunday school then a quick trip home where we changed clothes and headed to Sweetheart and Papa's house for dinner. If we decided not to have dinner we would show around 3:00 p.m. for a visit.

I challenge y'all to go on a visit this Sunday. Visit at least five other Southern Readers and get to know them. Tell 'um Maggie sent ya!

This Week's Winner!
8
Vasilly at 1330v!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Ella Minnow Pea (copy)

Twenty-one miles off the coast of South Carolina swims an independent island called Nollop. It is named for its most famous inhabitant, Nevin Nollop, who developed the popular pangram “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” (Pangram is a sentence assembled by using all the letters of the alphabet.) In the midst of the island’s square, stands a monument with each letter represented by its own tile in the illustrious sentence.

In this small nation, devotion to the word is a tradition. The governing bodies encourage citizens to pursue language, but technological is forgotten. Nollopians do not watch television or chatter on phones or type on computers. They have a daily newspaper, an enormous library and keep in close communication with their neighbors through letters.

On the morning of July 17, little Alice Butterworth was crossing the town square when she came upon shattered bits of tile. Looking up she notice one of the tiles from the cenotaph missing and realized she was staring at the remains of the letter “Z” from the word “lazy”. Dutiful Alice rushed the pieces to the office of High Island Council and a meeting was called.

The emergency meeting generated many a spectator and within seconds opinions were filling the air. So much so, Most Senior Gordon Willingham called for a closed session.

The Nollopians mulled around the outside windows while councilmen debated the little tile’s fate. Tempers flared and some stormed off only to be called back. Finally, after three hours, Willingham stepped out on the courthouse steps to convey the decision. “From this day forward the letter “Z” will no longer be employed. Those in violation of the new Anti-Z law will suffer dire consequences. First offense is a public reprimand. Second offense is a choice between corporal punishment by flogging or public humiliation through a day in the headstocks. Third offense calls for banishment from the island forever.”

We have been under this rule for less than a month and the newspaper has ceased to print and the library has closed. There have been 27 first offenses, 3 second offenses and young Master Creevy has been shipped to the States. We cringe knowing the “Q” fell off the monument this morning.

Ella Minnow Pea by Memphis playwright, Mark Dunn, is told completely through letters. Readers better mind their “p’s” and “q’s” as letters begin to drop like flies.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

The Bird!


Welcome to All

Southern Reading
Challenge Participants!

I hope you crack open a favorite or soon to be favorite Southern book this afternoon and enjoy reading in the sun! I read some snippets out of Jenny Bond and Chris Sheedy's Who the Hell is Pansy O'Hara? on the back porch this morning, and got tickled while reading the To Kill a Mockingbird chapter. Harper Lee fondly refers to the book as The Bird.

Lee in an early interview, before she became recluse, talks about our unique southern way of life. "There is a very definite social pattern in these towns that fascinates me. I think it is a rich social pattern. I would simply like to put down all I know about this because I believe that there is something universal in this little world, something decent to be said for it, and something to lament in its passing. In other words all I want to be is the Jane Austen of south Alabama."

I am so excited for those of you reading To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time. Please be sure to share!

So far there are 57 of you! YAY! On the sidebar is a blog roll of southern challengers. Please click a blog and go a visitin'! Tell 'um Maggie sent you! Oh, Kim in Ohio! Your link does not work! Please sign-up again on Mister Linky!
'
I'll be giving away magnolia pecans and autographed copies of southern books again this year! Be sure to sign up or play along with the contest for a chance to win!

This Week's Winner!
31
Jessica Leigh at Paperback Passion!

Random numbers generated May 16 2009 at 15:4:21 by http://www.psychicscience.org/. Free educational resources for parapsychology, psychical research & mind magic.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

A Rare Breed of Love (copy)


Baby doesn’t speak. Instead she looks at you with haunting black eyes and the question on her lips expresses, “Will you love me and treat me special?”

Baby is a 15-year-old poodle that spent her first nine years of life as a breeder in a puppy mill at an undisclosed location in California. Her known story begins with a woman, book refers to her as “Drive-by Angel,” driving the country roads and spotting a “Puppies for Sale” sign. When Drive-by Angel pulled into the idyllic setting she remembered being excited by the type of puppies she might find.

She could feel something awry after the home owner refused her entrance into the house, but insisted she bring the puppies out to a pen in the yard. These were no puppies, but Drive-by Angel played along. Her heart ached as the dogs vied for her attention, but all she saw was matted-down filthy, malnourished animals.

The gig was up and the woman said matter-of-factly, “They’re too old to produce. I’m going to put them down. You can have any of them for two hundred dollars.” Drive-by Angel decided the little white poodle with 94 tattooed inside her ear—an indication of birth and expiration date—deserved a new home.

During her first days in the new home, Drive-by Angel gave her the name Baby. She explains, “When I brought her home, everything was a first for her. Grass. Toys. Furniture. My kids said, ‘She doesn’t know about anything, just like a baby.’”

Within two days of being in the new home, Baby jumped off the sofa and shattered her left leg. Osteoporosis is a common problem with breeder dogs because the puppies require most of the calcium produced by the breeder, and being in a puppy mill most dogs are deprived of sunlight, exercise and proper nutrition. Her bones were too brittle to repair and her leg was amputated. The vet also informed the family that Baby’s vocal chords were severed and this is why she didn’t make a noise when hurt.

Readers will encounter Baby’s story within the first chapter of Dr. Jana Kohl’s A Rare Breed of Love. The rest of the book is Baby’s encounter with the rich and famous in order to change our archaic animal laws. Seeing her portrait with the likes of President Barack Obama, Judge Judy, Elizabeth Dole, Paul Harvey, Todd Oldham, Amy Sedaris, etc., one will recognize her as the perfect “spokesdog.”

Visit with Baby here.

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Thank Yew Pat!


This past Tuesday at 2:30 we had the honor of hearing Patricia Neely-Dorsey read from her new book of poetry titled Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems!
In attendance for the event was her handsome husband and chauffeur, James, who drove the two hours to Senatobia and then back home for Miss Patricia. ;D Others in the audience could tell they were very much in love (and I'm sure - still are) as she stole glances his way while reading her poem, "Mississippi Man".
Pat's visit was my first official program as Public Service Librarian. Regrettably, I still have loads to learn when it comes to scheduling an event on an active campus! I can say, those in attendance were rewarded with an intelligent and witty woman behind the podium and behind the poems we were hearing. Those students that attended left inspired. She is an engaging speaker and I highly recommend her program to all Mississippi librarians and especially to those who read this blog!
I purchased a few signed copies to give away during the Southern Reading Challenge! Yay, Y'all!

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Hunger Games (copy)

My name is Katniss and I live in District 12. There used to be 13 districts in all; unfortunately, the number proved to be very unlucky for those District 13 inhabitants. Our District, lovingly referred to as The Seam, supplies coal for the other 11 Districts and the Capitol.

Our inhabitants long ago stopped cleaning the dust from their wrinkles and creases allowing one to spot a miner from miles away. I think this thought as I look down on my sleeping sister, Prim. Her skin, pink and smooth like the primrose she is named after, will one day blacken. Just how long she can go before working in the mines is uncertain. It is my hope she will find a job in town, but one thing is certain, she is hungry as our mother as our neighbors as the whole walking lot of District 12.

See, we haven’t won a Hunger Game in years. It has been so long that our last winner, a broken down old sot, doesn’t even remember winning. Winners get extra food from the Peacemakers. Loads of flour and salt for cooking, eggs and ham for meals, and abundant fruit will practically make us fat. Otherwise, these things are only available through the black market. One can live off the Capitol’s rations, but remain hungry or die of starvation as a result.

I’ve been hunting in the forest to help out our small family’s need for food. It is real easy for me to slip under the razor-wire fence at a gathering of bushes without being detected. Actually, I think the Peacemakers know I do this but look the other way. They are my best customers.

My hunting buddy is Gale. We used to compete for game, but find it easier to work together for better prices at the market. He is also a great help with large game and fending off the flesh eaters. The bad thing, he calls me catnip.

Today is the day of Reaping. During the Reaping a male and female are chosen to represent their District in a fight to the death. Gale feels pretty sure he will be picked today. The odds are in his favor. He carries 18 points for his age then all the points from his siblings leaving them with one a piece; plus, he has added points for food during the year. I could easily be chosen for the female slot since I carry all but one of Prim’s points.

It is with utter horror I hear the announcer yell, “Prim!”

Readers will go without sleep to finish this dystopian tale titled Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.

Check out VaSilly's review for a different take! :D

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Southern Reading Challenge Three!


It's that time of year!

The time when you pour a glass of lemonade or sweet tea and take your official summer spot on the porch. Lean back in that chase lounge surrounded by geraniums and ferns, and begin the summer long journey into Southern culture.

Yes, it's hot!

Yes, it does get uncomfortable, but it is well worth the effort as you discover our unique "Southern" point of view.

You may choose to read any style of Southern book such as Appalachian tales, Civil War sagas, Gothic myths, Grit lit, and heart-wrenching biographies. Click here for ideas. Just as long as you read three (fiction or nonfiction) between May 15th and August 15th.

I plan weekly drawings and contests like last year, but I might steer away from the $50 pecans. Money's tight!

To get started, sign on Mister Linky with a url specific address back to your 3 books post and join me on the porch!

Thank yew!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks (copy)

When we moved into our new Mississippi home, there were some things the previous owner graciously left behind. There were straight-back walnut chairs, a wood lathe, twin bedsprings, and two 75 lb dogs; surprisingly, the two dog houses were gone. It was in minutes of our own 75 lb dog being released from the car that dominance was established. Our sweet household dog, Reba, was attack by both yard dogs and she remained in terror for a couple of months.

After three years of unsuccessful integration, our dog died (unrelated causes) and a new puppy was brought into the yard. We struggled with the idea of allowing them to mix, but puppies have a tendency to roll over and expose their bodies to aggressors. We watched closely as she wiggled excitedly from my arms and ran head-on into the alpha dog. At no point did she flip over, turn tail and run, or suffer a nip on the ear. Within a year, this same puppy, around 30 lb, became the alpha dog without much ado.

These are my thoughts as I read The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart. In this young-adult novel, main character, Frankie, becomes the alpha dog in a group of males older and way bigger than her.

Frankie, short for Franklin, recalls a time when she could walk the halls of Alabaster Preparatory Academy in complete obscurity. Being bookish, she was content with her friends, good books and innocent crushes on certain male students such as Matthew Livingston. Any social activity was vicariously attended through her older sister and senior, Zada.

That was last year. This year Frankie has the figure of Venus, and no problem coming out of her shell. When she accidently wrecks her bicycle in front of the school entrance, none other than Matthew Livingston comes to her rescue. She is literally in shock as he offers his hand and walks her all the way to her first class.

The following week and Frankie is attending a senior party as Matthew’s date. The party is a little slow except for the cajoling between Matthew and his three buddies: Alpha, Dean, and Callum. Alpha’s real name is Alessandro Tesorieri, but he is considered the alpha dog of the pack. Frankie realizes Alpha isn’t that aggressive to smart females and her ability to rise amongst the group is possible.

Follow along as Frankie masterminds pranks with code names like Doggies in the Window, Night of a Thousand Dogs and Canned Beet Rebellion that assures her rise to female alpha.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Help (copy)

The setting is a hot Jackson in August of 1960. Aibileen arrives at the Leefolt residence where she will raise yet another white baby. This is what she is good at—raising white babies—and from the looks of it she is in the nick of time.

The baby is wailing with colic, and her mother is pleading for her to be quiet. Not touching her mind you, she stands at a distance shushing. I go straight in to little Mae Mobley, pluck her out of the crib, and sit her in my lap. I start the bouncy, my way of easing that ole gas out and she settles down. Miss Leefolt, still standing at a distance, throws her hands in the air. “I tried everything and it wouldn’t hush! It wouldn’t stop!”

Now, Mae Mobley is two, and we are inseparable. From the time I enter the residence, she is doing the gimme fingers. No matter how many times I kiss her boo-boos and soothe her hurt feelings, you can tell it is Miss Leefolt’s attention she craves.

Today, I am instructed to keep her quiet and out of the way. The ladies are playing bridge in Miss Leefolt’s small dining room, and Mae Mobley is mere feet away in her highchair. The swinging door distracts sweetie as I come and go while waiting on the ladies.

The ladies consist of Miss Leefolt’s two college friends, Miss Skeeter and Miss Hilly, and Miss Hilly’s mom Miss Walter. Miss Walter be deaf as a doe-nob according to Minny, my friend who works for her.

During the ladies’ conversation Minny’s name comes up. Miss Hilly is saying how Minny’s stealing the family heirlooms right out from under Miss Walter’s nose. It’s not so, but Miss Walter doesn’t hear the talk and doesn’t disprove.

Naturally, I’m all ears hoping to hear more when Miss Hilly stand up and announce she needs to use the bathroom. This seems a little odd. She knows it is down the hall, but she’s waiting for Miss Leefolt to acknowledge her. Then she asks to use the upstairs bathroom. Miss Skeeter asks what’s wrong with the hall bathroom, and Miss Hilly say that’s where the help goes.

Kathryn Stockett has done a rare and beautiful thing. She has crafted an engrossing story of three women navigating the confusing Civil Rights Era in her native state of Mississippi. The Help is hands-down the best book of 2009.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Mississippi Voices (copy)


Two women, two different eras, one state, and one love are my thoughts as I consider the poetry written by Margaret Walker and Patricia Neely-Dorsey. At times, I saw little in common with the ladies other than poetry as form. Walker’s poetry rocks with evils perpetrated on living man as Neely-Dorsey’s poetry sings the joys of southern living.

The two have totally different opinions as the gap in their generations is very apparent. Walker, born in 1915, spent her formative years under the shroud of an ugly segregated south; whereas, Neely-Dorsey flourished in a post-Civil Rights Movement, Mississippi.

It is Walker who sometimes centers on the negative. For example, in the poem titled “Lineage,” she up lifts her strong grandmothers to turn and knock herself down with the line, “Why am I not as they?” Neely-Dorsey remains upbeat to the core, even the poem “Right to Vote” which might easily lean to the bitter, affirms the positive:


It seems almost incredulous
That this was how it was;
But, believe you me, no matter what,
I vote, now, just because.

Then I began to compare the poetry and noticed some shared themes. The old adage, “write what you know,” runs throughout these poets. They talk about themselves, family members, and community characters; although, Walker speaks of the broader African-American community and Neely-Dorsey peppers hers with Tupelo locals.

One positive shared theme is sense of place as they herald the beauty of our state. Walker’s “My Mississippi Spring” hums,

My heart warms under snow;
flowers with forsythia,
japonica blooms, flowering quince,
bridal wreath, blood root and violet;
yellow running jasmine vine,
cape jessamine and saucer magnolias:
tulip-shaped, scenting lemon musk upon the air.


Neely-Dorsey’s “Mississippi Morning” sings,

There’s nothing like a Mississippi morning,
On a summer’s day;
It’s such a grand production,
It seems we all should pay.

Another poem by Neely-Dorsey will be getting a lot of press in the coming weeks. She told an on-air personality that a mayoral candidate in Boonville requested the use of her poem “If Mississippi’s in You” for her campaign. The end of the poem proclaims,

I’m Mississippi born,
I’m Mississippi bred,
And when I die,
I’ll be Mississippi dead.

Both books, This is My Century: New and Collected Poems by Margaret Walker and Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems by Patricia Neely-Dorsey, are equally compelling and a great way to celebrate National Poetry month.

Monday, April 13, 2009

100 Years of Stories and Pics!

April 13, 1909
A woman so humble, she kept her Pulitzer in the coat closet!
Was it Ricky Bragg who said his was on a permanent traveling exhibition through the families? ;D
How will you celebrate today?
Leave a comment declaring your all time favorite Welty story or pic.
Pic is her name for the depression era photos she snapped.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia


April is National Poetry Month and in celebration I have joined the Celebrate the South Blog Tour. Y'all know I'm all about the South, but did you know I have a secret affinity for poetry? That’s right! I’m poetry in motion. Bah! How can I even say that with a straight face!

Celebrate the South Blog Tour features poet Patricia Neely-Dorsey’s new book Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems. Her's is a good life! The poems are upbeat, bouncy at times, and make me proud to be a Mississippian. They are positive to the core, even the “Right to Vote” which is her parents struggle to check the ballot in Tupelo, Mississippi. It might easily lean to the bitter, but the last stanza of the poem affirms the positive:

It seems almost incredulous
That this was how it was;
But, believe you me, no matter what,
I vote, now, just because.

At times I hear past U.S. Poet Laureate, Billy Collins, in her voice. It is amongst her shorter poems, he stands out such as “Turning 40.”

When I turn 40,
I felt so brand new;
I bought a bikini,
And got a tattoo;
For some unknown reason,
I felt more alive;
I can’t imagine what’ll happen,
When I turn 45.

In the section title “Getting Personal” Patricia wrote a poem based on the many different takes on her name. For example, it begins:

Patty, Patty Cake, Patsy,
Tisha, Trisha, Trish;
I've got more names that I am called,
I can't even begin to list.

In this poem titled, “Name Calling,” I want to add two more deserved monikers. She should be called Magnolia after the title of her book; although, I shorten it gladly to Maggie.

Y'all may visit Pat at her blog or purchase her book through Amazon. For more information on her book, Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia, visit other blogs on the tour.

BLOG TOUR

April 5 - Preaching Sunday

April 6 - Southern Life

April 7 - Mississippi Morning

April 8 - Southern Man

April 9 - Soul Food Restaurant
April 10 - Shelling Peas

April 11 - Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Eudora Welty: Some Notes on River Country (copy)

Eudora Welty was born April 13, 1909, in Jackson. To help celebrate her centennial, I am reading her works all during the year. This week I picked up Eudora Welty: Some Notes on River Country.

The book is a reprint of her 1944 essay that first appeared in Harper's Bazaar. This rambling essay starts with the history of River Country—land south of Vicksburg to and including Natchez and the Natchez Trace—then ends with the flora covered landscape of the area. After the essay, readers thumb through a set of 32 photos, most snapped by Welty. These include the ruins of Windsor, the mighty Mississippi River, the ghost town of Rodney, cemeteries, and other River Country landscapes.

The afterword by Hunter Cole gives insight into Welty’s writing through these notes. For example, Cole takes a quote from Welty as told to Dr. Peggy Prenshaw in Conversations with Eudora Welty. Welty said, “Why, just to write about what might happen along some little road like the Natchez Trace—which reaches so far into the past and has been the trail for so many kinds of people—is enough to keep you busy for life.”

Welty kept busy alright. According to Cole, she set her book The Robber Bridegroom and six short stories: A Worn Path, Asphodel, First Love, A Still Moment, Livvie, and At the Landing, in River Country.

Cole continues, “It is known that she read Audubon’s diaries, J.F.H Claiborne’s Mississippi narratives, and Robert M. Coates’s The Outlaw Years: The Land Pirates of the Natchez Trace and wished to verify the history these told.”

It was apparent while reading Welty’s essay that I lack basic Mississippi history. She nonchalantly wrote, “Deep under them both is solid blue clay, embalming the fossil horse and fossil ox and the great mastodon, the same preserving blue clay that was dug up to wrap the head of the Big Harp in bandit days, no less a monstrous thing when carried in for reward.”

What! Yuck! Is this really true and why haven’t I heard of said Harp, Big or Little?

Now I want to know more about the Harps, Mike Fink, Lorenzo Dow, John Murrell, John Law, Aaron Burr, Harmon Blennerhassett, and John James Audubon’s search for the ivory-billed woodpecker in Mississippi thanks to this essay. Maybe I should get busy and add the books Eudora read to my reading list this year, too.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Going Down South (copy)

Olivia Jean liked New York City. She didn’t wanna have to live in a backwater place like Cold Water Springs, Alabama. What would she do with her time? How would she meet kids her age while living far away from town? If it wasn’t for the baby she carried, maybe the prospects of going down south might interests her.

Things had definitely changed in the Stone household. Daisy, her mother, had taken to smoking twice as many Pall Malls than usually, and her father Turk would not speak to her. When entering the kitchen for supper he avoided her eyes. Their once close bond was completely severed as her normal teasing was now met with a scowl.

If it wasn’t for her pregnancy, she might have gone farther in school. Her straight A’s were impressive on a report card. How come she was so stupid when it came to boys? She should have known kissing in the school closet would lead to something, but Preston Douglass was so dreamy. He was like a triple-dark color, almost blue, and his penny loafers carried shiny new pennies instead of old ugly ones.

It didn’t take long for Preston to move on once he got what he got. He avoided Olivia Jean in school, and when they did meet it was Dora he spoke with so friendly like. That was okay. Dora liked him and Olivia Jean had lost his shine. Especially, after she told him she was going to have the baby, but he needn’t apply for a marriage certificate.

Now, she sat in the back of Sally, Turk’s new Chrysler, with her head on the cool glass as they made their way south. It was a cool morning and she was stunned as Daisy leaned back and handed her a small gold ring.

“Here, put this on your ring finger Hon. It will keeps those nosy-bees quiet for a little while. Just long enough for you to have that baby and us get back to normal.” Daisy turned back around, but Olivia Jean knew it would take a lot more than a ring to be normal again.

Set in the 1960s, Going Down South by Bonnie J. Glover focuses on three generations of women as they navigate through debilitating secrets. The book is broken into four distinct parts; Olivia Jean, Daisy, Birdie, and Of One Accord. Readers will marvel at the characters as the story unfolds.

Visit with author Bonnie J. Glover at her active blog.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Happy Spring Everyone!


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Jellicoe Road (copy)

I remember the first birthday party attended as a child. It was my friend Ellen’s party held outside Castalian Springs, Tenn., in an old Victorian complete with picket fence. The tall ceilings and huge rooms were so different from our cookie cutter ranch houses in town; consequently, it was like entering a magic kingdom.

Once inside, we stood grouped in the large dogtrot hall waiting for the party to begin. Ellen’s mother gave a nice welcome, took our presents to the kitchen and returned to instruct us on a little game. Each child was to look for his/her name on a piece of paper with yarn attached. Once located, we were to roll the yarn around the paper as we worked our way through the maze creating a ball of yarn in the process.

She turned her back and pushed open the enormous pocket doors. In awe we stood as we faced a web of multi-colored yarn from floor to ceiling. She then hollered, “Go!”

Once finding my name, I weaved in and out of the other children, between spindles on a rocking chair, around a couch leg, up through a book on the library shelf, across to a ceiling fan blade, and finally to a little present for me!

It was during the reading of Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta that I thought of this day. Somewhere in chapter six, I began to realize the many different characters and separate storylines were tangled much like the web in my friend Ellen’s house.

Main character Taylor Markam attends the Jellicoe boarding school, outside of Sydney, Australia, ever since her mother dumped her at a 7-Eleven on Jellicoe Road nearby. She has spent the last 11 years learning the layout of the school, its dormitories, the woods, and the significance of the prayer tree. It is because of her extensive knowledge and the fact holidays are spent on school property that the year 12 students have elected her president.

This unofficial title is known only amongst the student body. The faculty remains blissfully in the dark. Along with official duties as house leader, Taylor must memorize the purple Rule Book of Engagement. With this book she will lead the Jellicoe students through war with two factions: the town kids called Townies and the encroaching campers named Cadets. Within the sacred purple book are the boundaries and possibly the answer to her missing mother’s whereabouts.

Wind the yarn of this mystery and be rewarded with a perfect present from this year’s Printz Award winner, Jellicoe Road.

Friday, March 20, 2009

The Making of Common Craft!

I watch Common Craft videos to help me explain all this web 2.0 stuff. On my feed, I let this one sit because I thought it fun to actually watch them make a video. Enjoy!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

American Masters of the MS Gulf Coast (copy)


The librarian called and I put on my running shoes! She was holding a new book for me and I could not wait to flip through the pages. Yes, I work at a library but this particular book was still on order. My book lust was too strong to let the copy sit one more minute on the public library’s shelf.

I am speaking of American Masters of the Mississippi Gulf Coast: George Ohr, Dusti Bongé, Walter Anderson, Richmond Barthé by Patti Carr Black. In book form, it is the catalog for the current exhibit traveling the state of Mississippi until 2010. The closest venue for the exhibit is Oxford at University of Mississippi Museum during the month of August 2009. Can you say road trip!

The Mississippi Gulf Coast is a magical, mystical place that feeds its artists’ passions. From a mad potter to an exclusive purveyor of African souls, Mississippians, whether art enthusiasts or not, will delight in the examples provided in this book. It is our coast’s natural beauty which flames the fires of imagination in our state’s inhabitants.

“’The Coast’ is abundantly gifted in arts and culture, has produced world-class visual artists, and boasts of a unique agua- and agri- culture that melds the rural simplicities of Mississippi lore with the rich eccentricities of New Orleans,” states the Director of Mississippi Arts Commission, Malcolm White, in the introduction.

The format of the book includes a brief history of the area by Patti Carr Black and then breaks into four parts for each artist. The four parts are separated further by a biography of the artist, the artist’s approach to his art and a brief sampling of works in the exhibit. Unfortunately, Richmond Barthé’s sampling of work is too brief. The artist has only four sculptures depicted on full pages where the others have over ten.

Flip through these pages and reacquaint yourself with fellow Mississippians: George Ohr, the mad potter of Biloxi who may have the honor of being the first American performance artist, Dusti Bongé, a woman of privilege who singlehandedly brought modernism to Mississippi, Walter Anderson, a recluse who rode his bike 200 miles for art supplies, and Richmond Barthé with his rags to riches then back to rags story who may be the first African-American to receive $100,000 for a single piece of art.

American Masters is well worth the run to the library, but I wish it included more art.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

The Art of Racing in the Rain (copy)

My name is Enzo and my master’s name is Denny. He named me after the famous race car driver Enzo "the Commendatore" Ferrari. Have you heard of the Italian sports car Ferrari? Well, he is one in the same, and one day my master will have a car named after him.

Denny is a great race car driver. He has a unique skill that makes him a desirable team member. He can race in the rain. Wet conditions on the track do not scare him; actually, he perfected a maneuver which allows him to accelerate through the turns. Denny is a natural at finding the curve’s apex and shooting for the exit.

For the first year of my life it was Denny and I alone. Life was quieter with daily walks in the park and plenty of fetch then we stumbled upon Eve. Her hairlessness didn’t appeal to me, but they soon married and Zoe entered our family a year later.

Life was good. I spent my time watching over the fascinating Zoe. She filled my nose with all kinds of baby scents; plus, it was rather fun watching someone else teethe for a while. I kept company with Eve while she cooked in the kitchen and every so often she gave me little tastes; although, I never begged—that was for lower class dogs. And Denny didn’t treat me differently now that there were more people vying for his attention. He was a true gentleman master.

Unfortunately, there was down time when I was left alone for long periods such as when they had to work. I would amble from room to room looking for entertainment but none was to be found. I was literally bored to death then Denny noticed me watching television. Oh, I thank the day he decided to leave it on while he went to work. My vocabulary really blossomed during these periods. Too bad my tongue wasn’t designed for speech.

If I could talk, I would be able to warn Eve. I would explain my heightened sense of smell and the unmistakable scent of death coming from her ears and nose. I would tell Denny something bad was eating her brain. I would scream, “See an oncologist!” Man, if I had thumbs, I would drive her to the hospital myself. Why was I only a dog?

These are my words as Enzo the narrator of Garth Stein’s new book titled “The Art of Racing in the Rain.” I highly recommend this read. I was awake into the wee hours crying while reading the last two chapters. Not yet spring and I may have read the best book of the year; although, I did have one slight problem. Enzo’s vocabulary will rival that of a scholar. Scary to think my dog may be smarter than me.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Library Loot ~ Overdue!

I rushed to the library after the librarian called to tell me my hold was available! Yes, I'm a sucker for art and am having a grand time discovering Mississippi artists!

American Masters of the Mississippi Gulf Coast: George Ohr, Dusti Bonge, Walter Anderson, Richmond Barthe by Patti Carr Black is a catalog for the current exhibit traveling the state of Mississippi until 2010. Just my luck, the closest venue will be Oxford. Why didn't we get this for Northwest?

Check out other Library Loot at A Stripped Armchair.