I sit waiting. I am tired of huddling in my home for the inevitable. I figure he will find me anyway. Why not make myself more visible? So I sit at the bar in Lion and Bell resigned to my fate in an unsavory part of Philadelphia known as Helltown. The whiskey and hot water warm my innards as I sit contemplating the man who will spill them.
Really, no place is safe when someone wants to kill you. I have that same sinking feeling I used to get when I served under General Washington. His Excellency had some idea we could defeat the Redcoats with our bare hands since many of us traveled without muskets. Oh, he talked big at the officers’ dinners, but he knew we were under armed.
While I wait, I spin a pocket watch I took off an unsuspecting fop earlier today. It was one of the only things I had of value. Well, Leonidas is worth fifty or sixty pounds, but I could never part with my slave. He is not property so much as company, but to emancipate him would not be to my advantage. The man who seeks to kill me will not be swayed by money.
A man, two stools down, ogles my shiny timepiece. “What are you looking at Bag-o-Bones?”
He moves to the end of the bar and I grin. No need to make new friends on my last day on earth.
Owen, the barkeep, believes the watch will make a nice down payment on my account. He has a point. If the man shoots me in his establishment, Owen should be compensated for the mess. I ask for another tankard full and run up the tab.
Owen likes me. He carries a certain respect for my war years. I once commanded his dad, or someone similar to his dad, at the fighting in Brooklyn Heights. The more whiskey he pours the more I embellish the all too familiar story.
A single voice booms from behind me, “Captain Saunders! It is time to meet your maker!”
The latest historical novel titled The Whiskey Rebels by David Liss will have you immersed in another time and place.
This is one of hubby’s favorite authors. He picked up my copy of The Coffee Trader out of boredom a couple of years ago and then had to read them all. Liss has also written The Ethical Assassin, A Conspiracy of Paper, A Spectacle of Corruption and The Devil’s Company.”
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
The Whiskey Rebels (copy)
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Please Help by Voting!
Vote to support the Arts Council!
The Yoknapatawpha Arts Council has been selected as a finalist for a $20,000 award in the 50 States for Good program sponsored by Tom's of Maine. Tom's of Maine receives thousands of submissions for this program. They have selected just 41 groups to consider as finalists. TheYoknapatawpha Arts Council's project to renovate the Powerhouse Community Arts Center is the only organization in Mississippi that was selected.
The program has entered the public support phase and we need your help. We need you to vote for our program on the 50 States for Good website. Voting is active. Follow the links below to vote for the Arts Council. You can vote once a day. Although all the programs that have been selected are worthy we hope you will help bring this support to a program in our community.
Please take time to vote right now. Share this link with your network of people. Then save this link, vote again everyday, and remind your friends to vote everyday.
CLICK HERE TO VOTE
Thank you for your continued support of the arts.
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Book Clubing (copy)
We had our first meeting of the Northwest Reading Round Table yesterday and the book suggestions were flying. We titled the meeting “Meet and Greet” and everyone was asked to bring a favorite book read over the summer. The books varied with all-time-favorites mingling amongst the latest in (mostly mystery) serials and hardscrabble memoirs. It was a fun afternoon and most left with a title to read next.Story swapping during a book club meeting is one of my favorite activities. One never knows where the lead to a fabulous book will come from. Reading friends are a great source, too. They usually know you and your tolerance levels for certain things like foul language and steamy love scenes.
As a librarian, I am constantly suggesting books to all kinds of people from close friends and relatives to acquaintances. I get into trouble sometimes with acquaintances because they are—the definition of the word—unfamiliar. I suggest a book with a great story regardless of shock content. Once asked for a good book – I give it warts and all.
In a book club, one should try to read things outside personal comfort zones. One reason is a genre book such as mystery or western does not have the meaty writing to sustain a discussion. Genre books tend to be plot driven, and there is only so much one can say about plot. It takes controversy in a book to make people choose a stance and become passionate.
Some of the books and authors mentioned were Church Folk and Second Sunday by Bowden, Mississippi writer Carolyn Haines, Confederacy of Dunces by Toole, Leaving Gee’s Bend by Latham, Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter by Patton, Same Kind of Different as Me and its companion book What Difference Do It Make? by Rash and Moore, and Grisham’s Ford Country.
Many more titles and authors were batted around, but I lost my list and thus my memory. I do remember the last book by Tony Hillerman titled The Wailing Wind Someone also mentioned author J.D. Robb. Oh, and a rousing book talk for The Glass Castle by Walls. Sorry ladies for my lack of brain power, but I think readers will get the picture.
Did you read a book or author you would like to try out of the list? Would you like for me to give you a good story regardless of content? Do you belong to a book club? What are you waiting for? Get to reading!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Organizing Books (copy)
I love back to school time. The students look so smart in their new clothes, carrying books and wearing eyeglasses. Hey, would someone tell me why students are wearing glasses with space between the rims? I thought the whole point of wearing eyeglasses was to see.
During this time I see a lot of advertisements for books that help one organize and clean up. I remember back during the beginning of high school and college how being organized meant life or death. So many books to carry, I color coded my notebooks to match my textbooks. This way I could rush out to class with the right books without looking at them.
Don’t be like me. Take advice from the professionals. Julie Morgenstern, founder of Task Masters, has been a professional organizer for 20 years. Her ever popular Organizing from the Inside Out is now in its second edition. She can help you organize any room in your house. Tricky attic space, asks her. Filled-to-the-gills garage, consult Morgenstern.
Right now I am paying close attention to her organizing the mobile, cubicle and home based office. Although I work in an office at Northwest, I have a habit of taking my work with me. Can you say workaholic?
Mission: Organization by Home and Garden Television suggest lots of hooks and labeled boxes. This would be a perfect book for those new dorm students who are living away from home for the first time. Suggestions on where to place things and label them is a skill one will be able to use for the rest of his life.
For those of you who have a love-hate relationship with material stuff open up Regina Leeds, One Year to an Organized Life. In this book she breaks down work into convenient months. One organizes the Christmas decorations in January when it is time to store them instead of July.
Chapter nine is dedicated to the busy school year starting in September. Plan the lunches and the clothes one will wear the night before. Why, well if you dress in the dark, people tend to make fun of unmatched socks and shirts that are on backwards.
Peter Walsh of the hit television series Clean Sweep has written a book that rivals the size of any history textbook. Within the 450 page tome one will find a whole section dedicated to education and career. How to Organize Just About Everything is just that - everything.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet (copy)
Henry Lee was standing at the corner of bitter and sweet. He arrived early that morning when he heard the news. As the day progressed more and more people joined him in the wait. They mulled around whispering in excitement over a discovery soon to be revealed.
Henry stood facing the old Panama Hotel. The building loomed large in his childhood dreams where there were no broken windows or graffiti. He knew the company that bought it had their hands full, but he was thankful they saw potential and renovations were forthcoming.
As the breeze lifted Henry’s thinning hair, he thought back to the time when the hotel symbolized a large red stop sign. He was forbidden to walk past the hotel and into Japantown. His father, a Chinese Nationalist, would kill him if he ever set one foot in the enemy’s territory.
Chinatown was Henry’s home and the hotel stood as a bead connecting the two neighborhoods in an endless strand. Even now, in 1986, one could still stand at the hotel and look down both streets to the horizon. Once filled with bright Japanese and English signs, Seattle’s Japantown sat patiently waiting for someone to refill the neon.
Japantown was the prosperous of the two rival neighborhoods when Henry was a child. They supported opulent services like Toyama Jewelry Store and Ochi Photography Studio where Chinatown was filled with food markets and laundries. Henry remembered how things sparkle on Maynard Street, but his own Chinatown was dust and dirt.
The hotel was off limits back then, too. It was owned by a Japanese family. Henry remembers looking into the lobby from the sidewalk the day they closed the doors. Would the grand chandelier still grace the sky like it did back in 1942?
Finally, there was movement on the hotel’s steps. The owner, a small woman, raised her petite hand to open a bright red and white, bamboo parasol decorated with orange koi. The crowd sighed and Henry’s heart skipped a beat. Locked away in the basement since 1942 were hundreds of trunks and suitcases belonging to Japanese families who were relocated to Army internment camps.
Thank you to my librarian friend who suggested this stellar debut by Jamie Ford. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is everything one wants in a romantic historical novel.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Crazy for the Storm (copy)
Norman Ollestad grew up amongst beach waves and fresh snow in carefree California. On his first birthday his father surfed with Norm latched to his back in a homemade papoose. At the age of three, his father drove to fresh powder and coaxed his son to ski the bowls. Other children his age could only dream about his exploits, but Norm thought his life normal.
The Ollestads lived on Topanga Beach north of Los Angeles, his mother in a trailer close to the surf and his father in a house overlooking the bay. Norm was very young when they divorced. It was an amiable affair and he could flow in and out of both homes without causing tiffs. The local surfers acted as guardians, too. He was never alone while in the water.
His father, Big Norm, was loved among the Topanga surfers. He was easy to get along with and had a calling for the big waves. All he needed was a storm and locals would see him out at the point trying to ride a pipeline into the beach. By the time little Norm was eight, he was joining him in the tubes.
Big Norm was a child actor with his greatest role as oldest brother in the movie Cheaper by the Dozen. In his 20s he started to work for the FBI as an agent, but became disillusioned with J. Edgar Hoovers’ employee practices. He began to write about his experiences and the book Inside the FBI was published in 1967. Norm’s hippy lifestyle had financial backing.
Little Norm’s life changed forever on February 19, 1979. The flight, in a Cessna 172, was to be a quick jaunt to Big Bear City before heading home for school the next day. Eleven-year-old Norm was elated from his winning ski run the day before and all excited to plow more fresh powder. His dad was following yet another storm in the San Gabriel Mountains of California.
The plane encountered heavy fog and hit the side of Ontario Peak. Little Norm remembers the crash site in frames as the fog lifted enough for a small peek and then lower. First frame, the pilot’s body is lying prone outside the fuselage. Next frame, the pilot has a hole in his face where his nose used to be. To his left the fog lifts and he can see his dad’s girlfriend crying still strapped to her chair. One of his last frames he stares at his motionless father.
Norm will have to transverse sheets of vertical ice in this true story of survival. Crazy for the Storm is an engaging adventure book for males of all ages. There is language and sexual content, but hey, it is also the seventies and California. ;D
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The Lost City of Z (copy)
“Dr. Livingston, I presume?” No, it is Lieutenant Colonel Percy Harrison Fawcett whom is still lost in the jungles of South America.
Colonel Fawcett to his friends, although he was never awarded the higher rank, gave his life while exploring the Amazon region searching for a lost tribe with three story structures he called Z. It was Fawcett’s personal search for El Dorado of which early conquistadors claimed was a city filled with gold.
Fawcett had his doubts about the gold. As he traveled up the Amazon River to discover the source, each new tribe—who claimed him as the first white man ever encountered—did not wear or fashion anything out of the precious metal. They were in simple cotton loin if dressed at all. Ears might be pierced and plates might adorn their lips, but the material was either wood or bone.
Unlike his Victorian peers, he believed that prior to European’s first visit an advance tribe numbering in the thousands farmed and stored their food, built community buildings along with religious temples, and spoke a complicated language. He based these beliefs on stories he heard from various chiefs who spoke a native language mixed with Portuguese.
Even though Fawcett did his explorations after Queen Victoria’s death, he is considered the quintessential Victorian explorer. He took the daytime to survey all areas on his journey and drew maps while fighting fatal bugs and snakes under the night’s stars. Instead of combating or converting the natives, he study their culture and took detail notes that he used later to write articles for London Newspapers. “And every few years, when he emerged from the jungle, spidery thin and bedraggled, dozens of scientists and luminaries would pack the Royal Geographical Society’s hall to hear him speak.”
His success was based on two valuable skills. First, he was immune to the various threats in the jungle like flesh embedding maggots and malaria. He hardly ever got sick or struggled with the insatiable bugs that fatally attacked his other peers. Last and most important, he made friends with head shrinking, body clubbing, and cannibalistic natives who inhibited the region.
An engaging nonfiction, I spent hours reading The Lost City of Z by David Grann, and do not regret a second.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (copy)
Not only is it a great mystery, it makes a great cross-curricular activity book, too! I am talking about debut novel The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. The mystery involves a strange man found dead in the garden amongst the cucumbers of Buckshaw Estate outside London. Activities involve core curriculum classes such as English, Art, Natural Sciences, Mathematics, Music, History and Theatre.
Set in the 1950s, main character, Flavia de Luce, has a passion for chemistry mixed with a fascination for poisons. Precocious Flavia is the first to discover the body while strolling in the garden in the wee morning hours. She actually trips and lands face-to-face with the red-headed rake she saw arguing with her father the night before. In that instance, he shudders, takes his last breath, and exhales the word, “Vale.”
She tells no one of this encounter, especially, not the inspector. Her plan is to solve the mystery before her father is implicated in the murder. To do this requires she take swift trips on her bicycle, Gladys, back and forth from Buckshaw to the village of Bishop’s Lacey. Her BSA Keep Fit has never been as utilized as she pedals to the inn, Thirteen Drakes, or the town library. I picture a young version of Margaret Hamilton in the Wizard of Oz as she pedals in the tornado.
What makes this book different from other mysteries is smart Flavia. The girl is into everything and as we read her thoughts we cannot help but wonder what she is talking about or alluding to. She forces the reader to find the origins of metaphors such as “fingers of friendship,” scan through a biography of Dirk Bogarde, or test one of her many lab experiments. She forces one to think.
Ideas for classroom usage are endless. As Flavia wheels Gladys down the cobblestone streets of Bishop’s Lacey, I picture a geography class mapping her route. I can hear a psychology class interrupting in a muffled giggle as they read the “So utterly Pavlovian” passage. I can see a chemistry class discovering the true color of “a shade more sulphuric than cupric” I can even envision a car tech class pouring over the differences between Rolls-Royce and Austin-Healey engines.
I absolutely love a book that leads to more, too. Many titles and character names are swatted around like shuttlecocks. If anything, this book leads you to the next in the series, The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (copy)
I am currently reading the wildly popular The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It is the first book in Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy. All three books are on the New York Times Best Sellers List in one format or another. Did you know the first book almost did not get published in the States? Hard to believe when there are 27 million copies in print according to London newspaper, The Independent.Born in 1954, Stieg was one-year-old when he was sent to live with his grandparents in Sweden. His grandfather, Severin Boström, was imprisoned in a work camp during WWII for his anti-fascist beliefs. Stieg listened to his grandfather’s stories and looked up to him as a role-model.
In Larsson’s biography, The Man Who Left too Soon author Barry Forshaw states, “The fate of his grandfather deeply affected and shaped Stieg's character. He wanted to protect equal rights and fight for democracy and freedom of speech in order to prevent history, and what happened to his grandfather, from repeating itself.”
At the age of twelve, he was back living with his parents and annoying them with his new typewriter. His loud pecking forced them to rent a basement room in their neighbor’s home for the lad. Stieg’s father said, “After that we never saw him. He would come up just to eat and talk politics.”
Eva Gabrielsson, his partner since the age of 18, claims he was never close to his parents. The couple met at an anti-Vietnam rally in 1972 and was inseparable until his untimely death in 2004. They both shared a love of writing and worked together on science fiction fanzines and finally on their own magazine titled Expo.
Through Expo, Stieg had the freedom to print his anti-racism and feminist beliefs. Death threats were numerous. The New York Times Magazine stated, “…the White Aryan Resistance published his photograph and address and suggested that as an ‘enemy of the white race’ he ought to be eliminated.”
Stieg’s sudden death left Eva without protection. The literary license fell to Stieg’s father and brother, but Eva has an ace up her sleeve. She owns the laptop containing book five and six of the planned 10 book Millennium series.
Quick funny before I go. Eva claims the elfin Lisbeth Salander character is based on a grown up Pippi Longstocking. Tough!
Friday, July 02, 2010
Whistlin’ Dixie in a Nor’easter (copy)
Leelee and Baker Satterfield had a good life. They had a beautiful home in Chickasaw Gardens, Memphis. A home that took Leelee five years to paint, wallpaper and decorate in her signature peach color. An older home her girlfriends felt worthy of a five page spread in Southern Living. Their garden with all the major southern plantings including mature azaleas and camellias made her neighbors green with envy. They even had a lush backyard her toddlers took every advantage of during the spring, summer and fall seasons.
Baker worked for his father in the family insurance business. It was a steady income and one day it would be all his. He also enjoyed a membership in the Country Club thanks to his father-in-law. Since Baker was an ex-football star who loved all outdoor activities he spent every weekend out on the greens or up at the courts. When in the house, he kept the television tuned to any sports event and actively watched.
Leelee thought their life was picture perfect. She had a major crush on Baker from the moment she laid eyes on him in elementary school. It took tenth grade and Mother Nature before Baker began to notice her. Other boys noticed too, but it was Baker she set her sights on to marry. When did he become unhappy with his job, his home, his wife and his life?
Baker was harboring a dream. He was thumbing through North American Inns magazine when an advertisement caught his eye. The ad displayed a beautiful old inn with flowers and butterflies encircling an ornate wooden porch. The print read, “Located in a village setting near two major ski resorts, Vermont’s premier restaurant/inn is for sale. Circa 1700s, the Vermont Haus Inn has nine guest rooms, most with private bath, seven fireplaces, gracious lawns, twenty-acres and historic stone walls.”
He showed it proudly to Leelee and then showed her some books of picturesque Vermont he checked out from the library. His plan, move to Vermont and run the Vermont Haus Inn! He was asking his Ole Miss educated, southern belle Leelee to move north and become a Yankee! How absurd!
Memphis native, Lisa Patton, has written a fun romp akin to a modern day The Egg and I titled Whistlin’ Dixie in a Nor’easter. This fish-out-of-water story will have you rolling with the unbelievable situations and northern character quirks. As Alice would say, “Pure-dee-fun.”
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Little Bee (copy)
My name is Little Bee, and I changed my name in order to hide which village I am from in Africa. The oil companies have found their precious product on our lands and I am no longer safe. The same oil companies hired nasty men to kill all the people and burn down each village instead of dealing with tribal leaders. I made it out but my sister, Kindness, was not as lucky.
I now wait in a gray detention center outside of London. The walls are gray, the tiles are gray, the whites of our clothes are gray, the sky is gray, and my heart is gray. Whatever I do, I cannot bring the yellow of sunshine into my body. No matter how hard I look at the sky, blue will not enter my heart. I cannot eat the green grass all around me for I know it will taste like slate. If I could raise a flag for us refugees it would be the color gray.
The center is not all bad. They do separate us from the men at night. We have our compound and they have theirs. During the day I see how they look at the flowers in our group. The pretty girls who dress in the best clothes the hand-me-down bins offer are flowers. The men stare in wait. It is like the wild animal licking his lips.
I make myself less flower like. Early, before they open our compound doors, I wrap my chest in gauge as tight as possible. I want them to think I am very young, too young to bother. To complete my child look, I wear baggy pants and a horrid red Hawaiian shirt. My boots, a size small with reinforced steel toe, makes me feel like a little bee that hides her stinger.
Psst - I have a secret. I spend my days thinking of different ways to kill myself if the men come. It is a little game I play to keep me safe. For example, if the men corner me in the bathroom I will drown myself in the toilet bowl. If they catch me alone in the compound I will hang myself with the curtain pulls. For emergencies, I carry a small compact in my pants and will break the mirror to slit my arms. The nasty men will never get me.
Chris Cleave said he got the idea for his book Little Bee from his UK passport. He was once asked which 10 books he could not live without and one was his pass book or passport. He travels as a reporter for London’s Guardian newspaper and uses his to enter foreign lands seamlessly. If trouble occurs he can flash it and say I am a UK citizen and this is not my battle. Little Bee was written to show the plight of humans who do not own passports nor have a country that will protect them.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Summer at Tiffany (copy)
Marjorie Hart wanted to do something other than go to summer school at the University of Iowa. Three of her sisters at the Kappa house were heading to New York City to work at Lord & Taylor. They would be dancing at the hippest clubs, eating at the finest restaurants, visiting the beach on the weekend, watching the latest Broadway shows, and meeting midshipmen. Marty Garrett, Marjorie’s roommate, anticipating a boring summer dropped the summer schedule in the wastebasket and declared, “We can get on a train for New York, too,”
A plan was hatched and the two decided to use their savings for summer classes and redeem empty Coke bottles. After a little figuring, they surmised in order to make it in New York City they would need a contact for references and $65 for living expenses. World War II was in full swing and they could rely on midshipmen for tickets to shows.
A discretionary fund would be set up for the following items, “Oxydol laundry soap, Woodbury hand soap, bronze stocking stick, Pond’s hand cream, Jergen’s lotion, Dubarry nail polish, Kreml shampoo, Max Factor powder, Colgate toothpaste, Tangee lipstick, Coca-Cola, Lucky Strike cigarettes, Schrafft sundae, and a drink at Sardi’s.”
With a little help from the parents, they were set up in a meager but clean apartment in the Seth Low building at 106 Morningside Drive. The first morning in the city they were polished clean as they traveled on the upstairs berth of the downtown bus. Passing by the different Fifth Avenue stores, Marjorie was dizzy with excitement. She was disoriented while stepping off the curb and a stranger pulled her back before a Checker Cab could end her career.
When they entered the employment office at Lord & Taylor all hopes were dashed. Staring at them was a room full of other young ladies their age looking for summer work. It was the same at Saks Fifth Avenue, Peck & Peck, Bergdorf Goodman, Bonwit Teller, and De Pinna. The ladies were looking a little down when Tiffany rolled into site of the bus. Always the confident one Marty said, “Let’s try here.”
Marty and Marjorie became the first female pages in the history of Tiffany. This is the story of their summer and it is well worth the read. Titled, Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart, Adriana Trigiani said of the book, “A glorious once-upon-a-time fairy tale come true…I loved every moment.”
Read an excellent review by Tiffany HERE!!! She writes the blog Considering All Things Literary.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Complete Book of Women's Running (copy)
Okay, I do not do this, but this book is so good I believe the extraordinary circumstance is valid. I am talking about book talking a specific topic and not a general topic for all. It is a book for women on running called The Complete Book of Women’s Running by Dagny Scott Barrios.
When I start a hobby, I like to read everything I can find on the subject. Most people do this activity, too. I am going out on a limb because I think both sexes are intrigued with “The Biggest Loser” and the new “Losing It with Jillian,” so much so that people may be interested in losing weight the cheapest and fastest way through running. The finale of “The Biggest Loser” featured a marathon in Hawaii and a mother of two lost 36 lbs. in six weeks by training for a 5K on “Losing It with Jillian.” Running works and the only cost is a good pair of shoes.
If you started with this craze as my mother did in the late 70s and early 80s you are well aware of the classic, The Complete Book of Running by Jim Fixx. Mom’s copy was moved from room to room and she opened it often for motivation. Things have changed and it is better to buy something new with specific advice for genders.
One thing I was taught in track and all the books repeated into the late 90s was the basic foot strike. One must run with a heel strike and roll to the ball of the foot with a push off from the ball. Wrong! Runners today run from a mid strike that saves wear and tear on precious knees. Save the heel strike for races or the professionals.
Author Barrios never mentions the heel strike method. She does talk about the difference in strides for males and females. Women have a wider stride based on wider hips and research shows less knee troubles because women’s thighs are bigger. Hey, finally an advantage to bigger thighs!
Accomplished runners will get tips and drills to take it to the next level. She includes running schedules based on time and not mileage that is another shift from as late as 2000 thinking. Stretches, explained with photos, include two lower back moves not before seen. She has chapters for the pregnant woman and the older runner with nutrition emphasized throughout.
In this book you will find the motivation you need to get off the couch and get back into life. The mere movement of running stimulates the fun receptors in your brain and one feels like a kid again. Until the pain starts and becomes a means necessary to a slimmer end or um, bottom line.
I am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced (copy)
I go alone. He does not know I am gone. He is at work and I should be safe until he comes home.
The Al-Qa Square is full of people. The noise is jarring and the pushing and jostling make me nervous. I feel like a ball of yarn being batted around by large cats.
This place is the opposite of my village of Khardji in northwest Yemen. My home is quiet and I have few neighbors; mostly, they are relatives of mine. Oh, I wish I were home among my family and not out in this chaos seeking justice.
Finally, I find the building that holds court. I weave in and out of the important people. I can tell they are important by the suits and zanna they wear. Those who have on the ankle-length tunics of northern Yemen also carry their jambia, a ceremonial dagger, waist high behind belts.
I walk through an open door and am faced with a group of wailing women and men wearing black robes. This is the place I want to be. It is up to me and only me to find one of those black robed men alone and get what I seek.
I will never be alone in here though. The women are wailing so loud I cannot understand what they are displeased about. It would be easier to read lips if they did not cover them with the traditional niqabs. Everywhere I look, I see big eyes lined in kohl and framed in rectangular windows talking to me. What are they trying to say?
Court has been dismissed by the noon call to prayers and I am swept out by all the bodies rushing for the door. I try to reenter. I try to reach one of the judges but it is no use.
Once outside, I stop a woman and ask her where I might find a judge. She points to the staircase and says there are plenty in the rooms upstairs. I climb the stairs fighting a queasy feeling I believe generated from the heat. I might have fainted at the top if not for the quick shove I got from a boy running to catch up with his parents. I open the first door I reach and sit in the waiting room among others.
The room is empty now and I sit afraid I will be missed as it becomes dark. The lady at the desk goes into the office and speaks to the judge. Suddenly, he is standing in front of me. “What do you want little girl?” I bravely state, “I want a divorce.”
I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali and Delphine Minoui is a true story that will break your heart.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Travel Reading (copy)
Summertime and the reading is easy. Yes, it is that time of the year to pull out the chaise lounge and get busy. I recently sat through a 400 class of graduates at Georgetown with book in hand. Did not get to read it, but I was ready just in case.
If you are traveling this summer, I ran into some great advice through a listserv on reading. Linda Johns, a librarian at the Seattle Public Library and author of the Hannah West mysteries for children, shared her secret to traveling with books learned from a bookseller.
Carry three books with the thought of bringing only one home. Her secret: One book for the plane ride. Make it a quick plot-driven read you can leave in the seat pocket as you depart the plane. One book you have been meaning to read whether a beach sizzler or a smarty-pants classic and plan to leave it in the hotel lobby, or at a library where you can swap the book for another. Lastly, bring one book for the flight home. This book is the keeper. The one book you want lingering in your head if you happen to nap.
Following Johns’ vacation reads, I suggest new plot driven reads such as James Patterson’s Private, James Rollins’ The Devil Colony, and Dead in the Family, by Charlaine Harris.
Books to read on the beach might consist of the latest Janet Evanovich laugh-out-loud, Sizzling Sixteen, Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Danielle Steel’s Family Ties, and The Search by Nora Roberts.
I realize keeper books are a matter of taste. One man’s keeper is another man’s hurler but some of these titles might appeal such as new books by Daniel Silva’s The Rembrandt Affair, Jennifer Weiner’s Fly Away Home, Nelson DeMille’s Lion, and Justin Cronin’s The Passage.
These are all hardbacks. Statistics show the majority of travelers prefer paperbacks which brings me to a new trend in publishing. Remember all those chick-lit books of past summers. “The new trend is away from ‘fashionista’ fiction and towards ‘recessionista’ fiction,” states Lexi Henshel on the same listserv. She suggests The Penny Pincher's Club by Sarah Strohmeyer, Small Change by Sheila Roberts and The Ex-Mrs. Hedgefund by Jill Kargman.
Happy summer reading!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Wettest County in the World (copy)
While reading this week’s book, I keep thinking men of manly stature would really enjoy this. Specifically, I think the kind of man that does not mind taking a blow to the face as long as he can return the lick. Okay, close your eyes and think author Harry Crews’ style of writing mixed with the hardships of Frazier’s Cold Mountain, and then add the uncertainty of bootlegging stump whiskey on a wintry night.
New book, The Wettest County in the World by Matt Bondurant, is a male book clubs’ dream. I can see the members, with aged bourbon in hand, having a lively discussion over this one.
Based on a true story that was passed down—piece meal—through the family until Bondurant took notice, it tells the story of great-grandfather’s bootlegging days. I say piece meal because Bondurant’s own father did not know his dad had a bullet would until a little before his death. “Oh yeah, shot me through here, and raised his shirt to show my father the entry wound under his arm. Not much more was said about it after that, which is the way my father’s family communicated about such things.”
The story opens in 1918 when the Bondurant family is whole. The youngest member eight-year-old Jack has a .22 rifle aimed at a sow slated for slaughter while his father and one older brother are tamping down the tobacco pit. The first attempt and the sow wakes up, the second attempt and the sow is a little miffed, the third attempt and the sow is dazed. At this point older brother Forrest jumps into the pen and finishes the job with a knife.
The following year, older brother Howard waits on an army troop ship anchored off the Norfolk harbor. The ship is quarantined since most the men have the Spanish Lady Flu. When he finally arrives home to Franklin County, Virginia, his family notices he is weak with a caved in chest. The family is back together, but Howard is a changed man. The next month brings the epidemic home where mother and two sisters die.
Time jumps as the first chapter opens in 1934 and reporter Sherwood Anderson is sent to Franklin County to cover the mutilation of two suspected bootleggers. A county, through 1935 records, that shows “99 people out of 100 are making, or have some connection with, illicit liquor.”
Forewarning to the story is a quote by Mr. Anderson that opens part one. “Cruelty, like breadfruit and pineapples, is a product, I believe, of the South.”
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Writing and Publishing (copy)
I read a book this week that I could not put down. Bet you are thinking suspense or romance novel. Ha! I hate to shock you, but it is a young adult, nonfiction book in the It Happened to Me series. I kid you not. The writing is engaging and the topic is of great interest to me.
Writing and Publishing by Tina P. Schwartz promises teens a bright future if they like to write. Her first chapter, “Reading,” sent tingles through my spine. If you want to write you need to read. Read various things in various formats and read often. If you have trouble writing in a certain genre style read all you can in that genre. If you like a movie read the book. It is always better with the characters’ thoughts and motivations. Find an author you like and read everything they have written. Read poetry. Read short stories. Read. Read. Read.
Careers are a major discussion in chapter two. It is understandable with a preteen or teenage audience. Schwartz focuses on more than writing books, too. She includes writing poetry, greeting cards, song lyrics, scripts, and grants. I like that she points out jobs for which a high school diploma is all one needs.
Now, I realize this book might not appeal to the ordinary non-writing fellow. But, like any book worth its weight in gold, this one suggests more book 
titles; specifically, Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft is mentioned numerous times. The funny thing, last nonfiction book I read also suggested this same book.
Stephen King, the author of over 60 novels, began writing as a preteen, too. In On Writing, he explains how his first short story took shape. It was based on his mother’s desire to exchange her green stamps for a lamp she would later give to her sister for Christmas. Her tongue was green from all the licking and pasting in just a few short minutes of filling in the reward booklets. King thought that would make a great story by adding an impossible reward like a house that took, “eleven million, six hundred thousand books of Happy Stamps.”
He titled his short story “Happy Stamps” and sent it off to Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Three weeks later and King was looking at his first rejection letter. With Fats Domino playing in the background, he placed a nail on the wall and punched the letter through it. At age 14 the nail was full of rejection letters and he installed a spike where as he satisfyingly impaled future letters.
This week readers have two choices: an engaging book on the “how-to” or a funny book on the “why” write.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
The Education of Mr. Mayfield (copy)
“All M. B. Mayfield could do for the longest time following his breakdown was open his eyes, close his eyes, and breathe.” Thus begins the third chapter of David Magee’s new biography titled, The Education of Mr. Mayfield: An Unusual Story of Social Change at Ole Miss.
M.B. Mayfield and his twin brother L.D. were born in 1923 amongst ten other children in a small shack outside of Ecru, Mississippi. The family sharecropped and all the children were free labor to an unloving stepfather. M.B. was a delicate, soft spoken young man unlike his boisterous twin brother. This caused a rift in the brothers where stepfather favored L.D. with chores around the house and forced M.B. to work in the fields.
One day M. B. woke to tremors in his hands. As he walked out to the fields he was a little shaky in his knees. He told no one as he took up the mule and began to plow. It was apparent after two rows something was horribly wrong. His legs locked up and he could not move an inch.
The doctor found a small lump on one of his lungs and he was placed on a week of bed rest. M.B. had tuberculosis, a common element in the family, and he was unable to do heavy labor ever again. It was during this time he lost interest in drawing his favorite comic strip characters or making up stories from the newspapers he could read insulating his home.
M. B. was depressed. The third chapter continues, “Time dissolved the way an unpicked melon seeps on an aging vine in the late-summer sun.”
It took the Holy Bible to get M.B. out of his funk. Upon reading a passage in Isaiah he took up a mantra, “They shall walk, and not faint.” Still too weak to work, he took up pen and pencil and began to draw. The more he drew, the more he wanted color and began to mix plants and flowers to make dyes for his art. M.B. was budding into a bona fide Mississippi folk artist.
Stuart Purser and his wife were touring the back roads of Mississippi when they came across a magnificent sight. Purser, new chair of an even newer art department at the University of Mississippi, sat staring at two concrete busts large enough to see from the road. On one side of the porch stairs sat Joe Lewis and on the other George Washington Carver.
The year was 1949 and Purser felt he had found a gold mine. It dawned on him the odd coincidence of finding an unknown artist in a town named after his favorite color, Ecru.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Jamie Lee Curtis (copy)
In the world of children’s books, one celebrity stands out. Jamie Lee Curtis has produced eight quality books to help toddlers become curious, smart and strong children. Each book takes an underlying theme such as empowerment, self control, self awareness, imagination and loss, self esteem, and family and belonging. Don’t let these “new age” words scare you away.
The books were written over a 15 year period when her children were young. Beginning in 1993 with When I was Little: A Four-Year-Old's Memoir Of Her Youth, she said her four-year-old was bragging about her accomplishments. Curtis knew this little human experience would make a great book.
She followed it in 1996 with Tell Me Again: About the Night I was Born. The story put a different slant on the favorite “day I was born” tale because both Curtis children were adopted. Some of the words go, “Tell me again about the first night you were my mommy and you sang the lullaby your mommy sang to you.” The adoption community loves the book and her work began to become noticed through them.
Her audience grew with each successful book and in 2008 she released Books to Grow By Treasury. It is a compilation of four books, When I was Little, I’m Gonna Like Me, Is There Really a Human Race? and Where Do Balloons Go? with a CD read by Curtis.
The Eight Books to Grow By series is excellent if you have preschoolers. The illustrator, Laura Cornell, puts a little funk in the mixture with her curly-cues and vibrant water colors. Kids will take their time pointing out the little funnies that appear throughout her work. In When I was Little the children are laying side-by-side during naptime as one boy looks angry at his neighbor whose foot dangles on his cot. The Cornell/Curtis matchup is a hoot in all these books.
Would my life be any different if I had grown up with these books? I don’t know, but I bet I would smile more.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (copy)
Henrietta didn’t feel right. She wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong but she had a little knot in her lower abdomen. She had no problem with the pregnancy and birth of her fifth child six months earlier, but this knot was new. As her body returned to its normal size the small lump remained.At her next check up, Henrietta told the doctor she felt a little lump. During the pelvic examine the doctor found a most unusual nodule. It was rounded like a marble with a shiny purple color. The doctor noted on her chart, “like grape Jello.” Henrietta was right. There was something growing in her stomach.
The year was 1951 and Henrietta’s biopsy was malignant. She rode the bus to John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore the following week for radium surgery. She did not tell her family she had cancer. Instead she acted like she was off for a weekend with friends.
Before the doctor administered the radium he did a favor for a colleague. George Gey (pronounced Guy) was trying to grow human cells. His office, located in the basement at Hopkins, looked like an industrial kitchen except for the Bunsen burners and large freezers lining the walls full of “blood, placentas, tumor samples, and dead mice.”
Gey discovered Henrietta’s cells, from her first biopsy, lived through the night and split and multiplied over the weekend. This was not unusual. He had cells that reacted the same way but died by the end of the work week. On a hunch, Gey asked Henrietta’s doctors for more cells just in case this multiplying effect which was still occurring after five days turned into his “immortal” human cell.
Gey was handed a small cup labeled, Henrietta Lacks, full of cancer cells still warm from her body. Those cells became known as HeLa cells and are still growing in mass quantity today. The book, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, states that if the microscopic cells grown from Henrietta’s original cells were placed side by side they would wrap around the earth three times.
Rebecca Skloot, teacher of creative writing at the University of Memphis, has written a highly readable nonfiction book. Readers will not get bogged down in techy terminology and boring shop talk, this book is pure nonfiction fascination. Unfortunately, Henrietta died within a year but her cells continue to advance science in areas such as gene mapping, in vitro fertilization and cloning.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Beep! Beep! Book Stop!
"A story untold could be the one that kills you."
~ Pat Conroy
In honor Of Pat Conroy's South of Broad release in paperback, I found a couple of snippets to get you excited about his book.
From the first line: It was my father who called the city the Mansion on the River.
Last lines: "Yes, that is it: anything can happen. Yes."
It is up to you to read the middle! ;D
Fiction:
South of Broad (2009)
My Losing Season (2002)
Beach Music (1995)
The Prince of Tides (1986)
The Lords of Discipline (1980)
The Great Santini (1976)
The Water Is Wide (1972)
The Boo (1970)
Nonfiction:
The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes of My Life (1999)
I am currently participating in a blog tour for this book! Please visit Lisa at TLC for more information on the book and other bloggers' reviews!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
One Night of Madness (copy)
Attala County, Mississippi, drew national attention in 1950 for a horrible slaughter and the bloodhound assisted manhunt that followed. Afterwards, time passed and the events were forgotten.Out of the tragedy rose one bright occurrence. A young reporter working for The Kosciusko Star-Herald snapped a picture that would continue on to win America’s Best Journalistic Photograph awarded by the National Press Photographers Association.
The picture depicts two men spread eagle on a hard dirt surface of someone’s farm. In the middle of the picture is a man dangling a cigarette from his close-lipped mouth, wearing prison stripped pants and holding two revolvers at the ready. The man laying in the front is being frisked by an officer while two men are frisking the other suspect.
That young reporter who happened to be married to the newspaper editor’s daughter took the famous shot which was lovingly placed in a scrapbook to highlight his accomplishment. With the picture as centerpiece, the scrapbook became filled with news items from all over the U.S. reporting on the event. It soon out grew the family photo keepsake and the material was moved to a 30 x 30 inch book used in the newspaper business as a page layout.
For as long as he can remember, Stokes McMillan knew an aura of pride surrounded the huge scrapbook. It was brought out from under the bed on special occasions and the family gathered to listen quietly as a proud Mrs. McMillan retold the story. He, himself, had pulled the book out and flipped through the pages on many an afternoon, but he never took the time to read the articles. Finally, Stokes became a family man and the scrapbook was relocated to the darkness under his own bed.
It took a request from his son to finally make him read the articles. His son was going to college and asked his dad for a poster size copy of the photograph for his dorm room. Stokes got the picture and some others taken by his dad on that fateful day and had them blown up. While waiting around he figured he better read the articles for details when giving the presents.
Stokes became fascinated by the newspaper accounts and felt there was a book waiting to be written. One Night of Madness is written in Truman Capote style where literary license is used to move the story forward. One can purchase the book through his website www.stokesmcmillan.com.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Give My Poor Heart Ease (copy)
“I got the blues this week. Down in my back, I have found no relief.” These are lyrics for my new song “Low-Down Back Blues.” Yes, I am having a little back trouble this week and it is fitting that I talk about Give My Poor Heart Ease by William Ferris.
From the first lines to the last, this book is excellent! Why, you may ask? Well, I don’t want to gush, but it has every element known to the blues genre within 302 written pages including an hour long DVD of original content, an hour’s worth of original music on CD, original photographs, and illustrations. It is a truly complete package.
Ferris begins with a nine page introduction that should be the basis of his autobiography. He grew up in the country outside of Vicksburg in the 40s and 50s. From an early age, he was fascinated by the music he heard played or sung by his neighbors. This developed into a passion for all things Southern especially blues music. He was not alone either. His older brother Grey shared the excitement.
While attending college, Grey talked his brother into interviewing with film and recorder the locals as they sang or preached. This is the beginning of his DVD. Filmed all in 1968, the home movies are gritty black and white productions full of unscripted moments such as the Reverend Isaac Thomas who sings his sermon instead of orating at the Rose Hill Church, a baptism in the Mississippi where the flock enters the water in pairs, and prisoners singing work chants while chopping wood at Parchman Penitentiary. Listeners will recognize the familiar sing-song of railroad workers in the Coen Brothers’ movie, O Brother, Where Art Though?
These amateur beginnings served Ferris well as he became a folklorist and set out to record and interview all the blues artists in Mississippi. In 1970 he came to the hill country of Tate County to interview an opinionated man named Otha Turner. Otha opened his home to Ferris and taught him how to make his own fife.
He made Napoleon Strickland’s first cane, too. Otha said, “He took it up hisself after he heard me blow a piece. And now Napoleon can really blow a cane.” On page 73 is a picture of Otha holding his legacy, Sharde Turner, a current student and recipient of the Edna Teasler Scholarship at Northwest. One can hear Napoleon performing “Somebody Knocking on My Door” on the CD, too.
These are merely examples of one man’s passionate opus to the blues.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
People of the Book (copy)
Back in 2005, when I started writing book talks for The Southern Reporter, I was conservative when suggesting books. If the book contained excessive foul language or a questionable sex scene I usually enjoyed the book but found another one to talk about. That year I read some excellent books that were left un-suggested including Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire, A Million Little Pieces by James Frey and Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks.
I regret not introducing new readers to Geraldine Brooks. She won a Pulitzer Prize a few years later with her book March, and has written another stellar book titled People of the Book. Really, when I think about Year of Wonders, I have to wonder why I thought it questionable. A woman in her late 70s at the time suggested it to me and I hold her taste in high regard, but still something held me back.
With two thumbs wildly wiggling up, I whole-heartedly suggest People of the Book. A little something for everyone, the novel is based on a true story that combines history, family relationships, religion, travel, and mystery.
In 1996, Hanna Heath is summoned to the remnants of war torn Bosnia to conserve an ancient haggadah. A religious book, the haggadah is read by Jewish families during Seder in which the story of Exodus is related. She is met at the airport by United Nations guards and three armor-plated vans which escort her to the museum holding the book.
Obviously, this isn't any old book but the Sarajevo Haggadah that was appraised in 1991 at $700 million. It is thought to be the oldest illuminated Jewish codex with images and Hanna handles the calf-skin parchment with kid gloves. While turning the pages slowly she finds three things foreign to the manuscript: a butterfly wing, a blonde hair and a small grain of salt.
In this story the plot is driven by the protection of the book through the years. One follows the persecution of Jews and the peril of the book starting with the Bosnian War and then moving to Nazi run Vienna in a reverse chronological order. This is an excellent history lesson as they travel to Venice, Italy of 1609 and then the forced expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492.
It is the small objects left in the book that reminds the reader of a fine mystery. Hanna also leaves a little gift for the next 500 years.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Wolfsnail: A Backyard Predator (copy)
If this book had a sound track, it might sound like the theme to "Jaws," duuun dun duuun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun BOM BOM dun dun dun dun dun dun doo dedoo doo dedoo dede doo dede doo dededoo…I am talking about Sarah C. Campbell's highly acclaimed Wolfsnail: A Backyard Predator. This children's picture book, published in 2008, was honored by the American Library Association's newest award.
The Theodor Seuss Geisel Award began in 2006 and has proven a major player in "beginning reader books" for the very young. To be honored is to say that one did not win but came in second. Still, it is a pretty good accomplishment for a Jackson, Mississippi husband and wife team of photographers; especially, since it is their first book ever.
Technically, this book is considered a photo-essay, but that genre title sounds too fussy. By using photographs taken around their home, the couple tells the story of a lone wolfsnail in search of food. The vibrant greens of plants such as hosta and grass, the opalescent brown of the shiny shell, the grainy ground, and the crackly tan of fallen leaves all work together to create a visually stunning story.
A story that could be told without words, but Sarah feeds our imagination with little know facts about the thumb size creature. She begins, "Water from a spring rain runs along the edge of a porch. It falls onto the shell of a wolfsnail. The snail is tucked inside its shell. Today, it is time to wake up and find food. Water seeps into an opening in the shell. The snail begins to move. Its tail comes out first, then its head."
From here the wolfsnail realizes it is hungry and begins to hunt other snails and slugs by following their slimy tracks. It traipses over large hosta leaves where little readers will see the remnants of morning dew. A shadow passes over and the wolfsnail ducks into its home to avoid the mockingbird. When the coast is clear, he emerges from his shell to continue the hunt for a common snail.
Sarah considers herself a teaching author and this book is perfect for a spring day outside with the kindergarten class or a "small creature," themed storytime. If snails gross you out try the new children's book by the duo titled, Growing Patterns: Fibonacci Numbers in Nature. Filled with photographs of pinecones and sunflowers, the book demonstrates how one can find the number pattern (1,1,2,3,5,8,13...) in nature.
More about Wolfsnail and Growning Patterns can be found at Sarah C. Campbell's blog!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The Procrastinator’s Guide to Getting Things Done (copy)
I was perusing the new books this week when one caught my eye. The Procrastinator's Guide to Getting Things Done by Monica Ramirez Basco, Ph.D. sat gnawing at me. The guilt of past work undone and the lingering anxiety of a "to-do" stack sat sticking its tongue out at me. Could this book help?
Now, I am not one to read self-help books but this one obviously filled a needed niche. I took it to lunch and we both commiserated on my problem. Turns out, I have a reluctance to get started and put things off for fear of not doing them perfectly. Thought I fixed the "perfect" problem with another, self-help book in my 30s; unfortunately, the problem lingers under the surface and sabotages my actions covertly.
Basco is a wry writer and realizes her audience will also procrastinate and possibly put off reading her book. With this in mind, she wrote a little sidebar in chapter one titled, "Resisting the Urge to Procrastinate on This Book."
Among Basco's seven suggestions sits a gold mine of ideas for any reluctant reader not just procrastinators. Her first suggestion refers to the fact that if you see it you will read it. Place the book on your night stand or coffee table. In my case, lay it on top of the stack.
Carry the book with you whether it is out to lunch or a bathroom break. Standing in lines is the perfect time to whip it out and start reading. Instead of listening to the same old television commercials click the mute button and read. Whatever the circumstance, keeping the book in hand means it will be readily available when spare time occurs.
Here's a silly suggestion but Basco says one should plan to read one page at a time. Is there another way? Physically, is this possible? I am at a loss for her meaning. She doesn't expand but she might be alluding to the size of her book. Read in little chunks and an enormous book will eventually be whittled away.
Basco's list contains a couple of "do nots," too. First, do not set unrealistic goals such as read a book by the end of the week or read a book before you do anything else. Reading should be without pressure. Second, do not tell yourself you "have to" read any book. Tell yourself that you want to read no-matter-what, or in the words of Larry the Cable Guy, "Geterdone!"
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Stitches (copy)
Young David grew up in a quiet family who kept their emotions below the surface only to boil-up around inanimate objects. For instance, his father had a punching bag in the basement and every day after work he would pound into an unknown face. His mother took her frustrations out in the kitchen. The slamming of cupboards, clanging of pots and pans, and the harsh sounds of drowning utensils and plates while being thrown into water was a daily occurrence. Even his brother kept the household beat with his drum set.David opted for a noiseless way to act out. At the age of six he became mysteriously sick. His father was a radiologist at a major hospital in Detroit and often David was x-rayed as treatment. His father later claimed that it was standard practice for anyone born with breathing difficulties such as asthma or sinus conditions. Readers will see otherwise as David becomes a human guinea pig.
By age eleven, David has a slight growth on his neck. It is his mother's best friend, Mrs. Dillon, who discovers the small lump. In front of David, Mrs. Dillon makes his mother promise to see a doctor but once she leaves his mother declares, "Doctors cost money and money is something that is in short supply in this house!"
Three and a half years later, David's tumor is too large to ignore and he requires surgery. It is only after he is recovering at home from two surgeries that remove his thyroid gland and one side of his vocal cords that David learns why. A letter, locked in a desk and written by his mother, explains his cancer and how the family refuses to tell "the boy" about it.
David Small's true story, Stitches: A Memoir, is a gothic tale of love denied. He was definitely a product of the times when children were seen but not heard. It was the psychologist that broke the news, "Your mother doesn't love you."
Illustrated in graphic format, older readers will recognize The New Yorker style comics, but this book is for young adults. It appeals to anyone reading graphic novels for it is loyal to the grotesqueness of the genre. It's the heartbreaking story that appeals to all.
I leave you with a quote from the book jacket. "A silent movie masquerading as a book, Stitches renders a broken world suddenly seamless and beautiful again." It is one of those books that live within you long after the last page is turned.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Pop-Ups (copy)
As a librarian, I have a love-hate relationship with pop-up books. Obviously, they are books; thus, my eternal love. It is the lifespan of pop-ups that causes me such grief. When purchasing them for the library, I automatically think I am wasting taxpayers' money. How many children will enjoy the book before it becomes a broken mess?
The act of placing the book behind the counter to save it from wear and tear also defeats the purpose of providing the book. If a child cannot read it because I hold it hostage in a protected area, he will never benefit from its use. Removing it from the "safe" shelf for story time does ease my guilt, but it remains inaccessible to that child who may need a little visual stimulus to foster her love of books.
Pop-up books can be seen as gimmicky. A child benefits from the bright colors and sing-song words in a regular children's picture book. Pop-ups are icing on the cake. There is no proof that a pop-up stimulates the brain, but one can guess that twinkle in her child's eyes might mean something is taking place – possibly fun.
It is with a heavy heart I suggest David A. Carter's pop-up books. I realize their little book bodies will be bruised, torn and mangled. They will encounter many dirty-little hands pushing tabs, grabbing at dangly spots, and catching piecer-parts that fly. These books are doomed. Woe is the book that encounters a known slobberer.
Born in 1957, David A. Carter began his career in the 70s as a graphic designer. He was fooling around at work making little paper bugs when he thought of creating a book for children. His first book, "How Many Bugs in a Box?" became popular and in 1987 he started his own business making "buggy" pop-up books.
Fast forward and we find Carter creating pop-art, pop-ups. His latest titled White Noise opens with the line, "Rainbow bubble blast and crackly white noise." As the child opens the cover he sees red, yellow, blue, and black dots rising from the page. It reminds me of a retro 50's table cloth or glass tumbler design. The three dimensional art makes noise as white gears scrap across black dots.
Yes, I did purchase it for the library along with, Blue 2, Yellow Square, 600 Black Spots, and One Red Dot. Hopefully, these books will have a longer shelf life with adult students.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Promises I Made My Mother (copy)
It was a delight to hear Sam Haskell speak at the Senatobia Lunch with Books yesterday. He flew in special from New York to promote his excellent new book, "Promises I Made My Mother." I was late but after listening to him for just a minute I was struck by his gentle mannerisms and charming good looks. No wonder he won the hearts of finicky people like Bette Davis and David Frost.
Sam Haskell was born in Alabama but he soon moved to Mississippi and considers Amory his hometown. As a child he believed anything was possible and he continued to have faith when others began to doubt. In the prologue he uses the Cheer Man as his example.
In 1964 Amory had all of three television channels from which to choose and nine-year-old Sam was a scholar of all. The Cheer Man was a commercial airing that year to promote the washing detergent. The spokesman dressed in bright orange and sporting a detergent box hat was seen walking through a neighborhood asking, "Do you use Cheer?" Finally he gets an answer when one lucky housewife shows off her box. The spokesman then hands her a ten dollar bill and all is right with the world.
This commercial, this image, this event was going to happen to young Sam. His mother used Cheer and he knew it was only a matter of time before the Cheer Man came down the street and stopped at his front door. He jumped into action – so as to be ready for the blessed day – by making a poster declaring his undying love for the product. With money saved he purchased all the paint and mini rocks to place on his poster which became a garish three by four foot sign that he proudly displayed above his bedroom headboard.
Soon his artwork became the butt of his father's jokes. "Son, show the guys what you plan to do when the Cheer Man comes?" Sam would eagerly display his masterpiece only to be met with snickers and guffaws from the crowd.
It was his mother who kept the dream alive although time passed and the Cheer Man commercial cycled off the air. Eventually, the poster came off the wall to reside under the bed and then moved to the closet. His mother never once pointed out the impossibility, but told him it was a beautiful dream.
Readers will find the Cheer Man cometh and directly to the Haskell's front door thus proving all things are possible. Sam returned to Mississippi yesterday after a successful career in Hollywood culminating as Worldwide Head of Television. Yes, all things are possible.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saving CeeCee Honeycutt (copy)
Cecelia "CeeCee" Rose Honeycutt was twelve-years-old when she realized life with her mother was getting worse. There were hints like the three straight weeks her mother went cuckoo crazy for shoes that resulted in overflowing shoeboxes in both bedroom closets. Another time she caught her mother sitting at the kitchen table sporting her favorite pink robe with candy apple stilettos peeking out from under the hem. One embarrassing time CeeCee arrived home from school to find her mother perched on the stoop wearing a ball gown and tiara.
CeeCee's father was no help. He was a travelling salesman who took every opportunity to get out of town and away from the family. He cut up the credit cards and yelled for her to take her medicine, but still she over shopped and walked around bewildered. When the money became tight, CeeCee's mom began to shop at the local Goodwill for prom dresses.
Many times CeeCee came home to a quiet, dark house. Climbing the steps she would see her mother immobilized in the upstairs bedroom pouring over a scrapbook filled with memorabilia and too lethargic to turn on the house lights. Other times she might catch her mother in a rage where fragile vases and china plates were flung around like a water sprinkler.
On this ominous day CeeCee would have to face facts. Returning from the library, she opened the front door and was greeted with a smelly gray smoke. She rushed into the kitchen to see a pot of macaroni and cheese overflowing onto the stove top. Upstairs she found her mother with the scrapbook poking a finger at one of the pictures. "My life is here; this is my 'real' life."
CeeCee looks into her mother's eyes and asked, "Momma, what's my name?"
"Why, CeeCee Rose of course and your friend is Nancy Drew."
"Well, sort of. Nancy Drew is a character in one of my books."
Camille Sugarbaker Honeycutt is stuck in 1951 where she remains forever the Vidalia Onion Queen. With an absent father and all her people in the South, who will take care of CeeCee? Her life is perched precariously on the ledge of an abyss and her mother is slowly elbowing her off.
Saving CeeCee Honecutt by Beth Hoffman is a new southern novel that brings the crazy back down home, because everyone knows our southern roots include insanity.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Shop Class as Soulcraft (copy)
During my pre-teen years I worked for my father's carpet cleaning business. Less residential and more commercial, my time was spent cleaning offices and bathrooms. Father loved to skirt the law and those pesky child labor ones - he felt - didn't apply to a family run business.
I may have already told this but my parents' families were an exercise in opposites. My mother's privileged and father's questionable, I faced an early education in the "haves and have nots" with ample examples. Benefits for me included material wealth such as toys and clothes from one side and precious freedom to run amuck from the other. Life was good.
My dad's mother worked factory. Granny Smith filled my ears with words like skeleton shifts, mandatory overtime, assembly line, and various adjectives for a terrible thing called a manager. As I began to understand her wordage, I jumped to the conclusion she worked assembly line.
It wasn't until I began to clean the offices at Hoeganaes that my thoughts were corrected. This factory worked in metals and there were giant furnaces along the north wall and the floor space was filled with single-worker machines. On weekends we entered through the truck bay and headed to the office area. They ran a skeleton crew and every blue moon I might catch Granny Smith out on the floor or in the break room.
One day my dad asked me to pick up the trash along the machines within the factory. Granny Smith was in the middle of the room and it took me sometime to reach her. As I neared, another man was cursing his machine. It was making a horrible noise and beginning to steam. He called out, "Edna Mae, this one is breakin' down!" She hit three or four buttons on her machine and ran to his aide. With my mouth on the ground, she grabbed an oil can and began to tease and tempt the humongous dinosaur into submission.
It was the look of pride on her face as she returned to her machine that I will never forget. I closed my mouth and continued working until I reached her and she gave me a big ole hug and kiss. Her coworkers, realizing my family connection, began to spout her accolades. Smiling shyly she threw some choice words back at them and the room hushed except for the purring of the machines.
What is happening to our society as we export our factory jobs to other countries? What is left for the class of people who take pride in their own hands? Matthew B. Crawford tries to answer these in his new book, Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work.
