I picked the perfect book to start this summer’s Southern Reading Challenge! Ferrol Sams first book titled, Run with the Horsemen, is set in rural Georgia during the Depression and is loosely based on his own upbringing.
Sams began this book as a journal and it is our hope to inspire others to tell their story through journaling on June 9, at our “Tell-A-Tale” brown-bag lunch led by Senatobia High School instructor, Jill Thomas Knox.
We all have great stories and we live in an appreciative community that still enjoys the oral tradition. Why not take the time to write these stories for future generations to read. In Sams case, the stories were so intimate it worked better to recreate himself as a character and present his final book as a novel.
It is really a trilogy, but I am choosing to read the first and move on to a different author. As a librarian, I need to get a little taste here and there of different authors. When I retire, I will be able to fill in the gaps of my own making. This book leads itself to being read alone and was Georgia’s 2006 “One Book, One Community” program selection.
As mentioned earlier, it is the masked story of Sams own experiences told through the boy. Throughout the book, family names are left out and only nouns remain of the characters. There is the boy, his father and mother, a snuff dipping grandmother, and a grandfather. Some uncles and aunts have names to distinguish their relations to the boy, and all other people mentioned have names and cleverly developed character sketches.
Through reading we learn the boy’s name is Porter Osbourne, Jr. and he is extremely smart. At a young age he masters the art of lying taking cues from his many successful and unsuccessful attempts. Never done in malice, his lying is more a survival tactic since he is small for his age and matures later after high school. The boy will not be bullied.
With each chapter, the boy becomes older and wiser. Sams gives his readers the knowledge of worldly situations such as a father who drinks without the boy having the same privileges. The silly thoughts about sex are slowly crushed with each passing year as we follow the boy’s vast learning curve.
Run with the Horsemen was written in 1982 when Sams was 60-years-old. It is a classic. Do you have a life story that could become a Mississippi classic? Join us June 9, and find out.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Run with the Horsemen (copy)
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The Pirate Coast (copy)
Ahoy, mates. Can you guess which movie I saw over the weekend? There is something about a rebel pirate that really gets my imagination going. I understand that real pirates were not to be idealized, but today’s movie pirate can be rather charming. Okay, maybe I should say that I find Johnny Depp rather charming, pirate or not.
Anyhoo, I picked up Richard Zacks’ book The Pirate Coast: Thomas Jefferson, the First Marines, and the Secret Mission of 1805 for the excitement. What I found was a compelling history lesson on the early stages of the U.S. Marine Corps.
When we think of Marines we think tough—even hardcore—soldiers, but in the beginning they demanded little respect. Their only mission was to keep U.S. sailors in order. It was an inglorious task for which they were despised and scarcely feared. It took a man, heavily in debt and fresh from a court martial, to change all that.
His name was William Eaton and the area he wanted to secure was Muslim Tripoli in Northern Africa on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. This is the same shore celebrated in the Marine Hymn that begins, “From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli.” At the time, the area was notorious for excessively brutal pirates.
Eaton knew the area well having served there four years prior to the incident. He was appalled at the U.S. government for allowing slavery of Christians take place in the small African nation. Instead of fighting to secure the area from threat the U.S. Navy looked the other way and the Tunis were paid heavily to ignore American trade.
President Thomas Jefferson had a better idea. These Barbary Pirates were not going to take American citizens and place them in slavery and he was not going to pay any bribes to the local Beys. He sent orders to the small Navy and the USS Philadelphia established a blockade on the North African shores.
Unfortunately, the young Captain, William Bainbridge, ran the Philadelphia aground after giving chase to a blockade runner. He ordered the anchors cut first, then the foremasts chopped down, and finally, the cannons and ballast flung overboard to float the ship off the reef but to no avail. The crew was seized.
Later that night Bainbridge must have cursed as he watched the Philadelphia roll gently at high tide.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Southern Reading Challenge (copy)
This summer join us at Northwest for the Southern Reading Challenge. For the month of June, I dare you to read three southern setting books by southern authors. They can be either fiction or nonfiction, but they have to be (and I cannot stress this enough) Southern!
Oh, but you are thinking to yourself, “I really don’t like southern books. I am a proud mystery reader.” To that I say, have you read Anne George? Unfortunately, Anne passed away in 2001, and left eight books in her “Southern Sisters” series. Every book is funny as the sisters match wits to find the killer. These books are like a box of chocolates, one cannot stop at just one.
Other mystery writers who are southern include: James Lee Burke who sets his stories in New Orleans or Louisiana, Carl Hiaasen who tickles every funny bone with his oddball characters in stories set in Florida, and Patricia Sprinkle who delights readers with her “Thoroughly Southern” series featuring MacLaren Yarbrough in small town Georgia.
Is Eugenia Price still read? My ignorance of romance novels knows no bounds. All of her books are set in the American South but they were written in the 1960s. I do remember thinking romance writers like to set their books in Texas. Some of these writers include: Rosanne Bittner, Dana Ransom, Annette Broadrick, Sandra Brown, Fern Michaels, and Diana Palmer.
The Northwest RC Pugh Library will be hosting two Mississippi writers ready for reading. Celebrate your Mississippi heritage with Patricia Dorsey who wrote a collection of poems titled, Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems. She is currently compiling her second collection and might share new poems on June 16 at a “brown bag” noontime lunch.
If you have not read In the Sanctuary of Outcasts by Neil White, you are in for a treat. He will be at the library June 30 during the brown bag lunch series to discuss his incredible story. He will also encourage participants to write their own incredible stories.
On June 23, Northwest Instructor Deborah Wilbourn will present the writings of Mississippi author, Margaret Walker. This is your chance to get lost in her historical novel Jubilee. Walker started the book as a doctoral dissertation using her grandmother’s memories of growing up as a slave in rural Alabama. Mrs. Wilbourn will also discuss Walker’s Civil Rights poetry.
So, the challenge is on! Contact me at 662-562-3277 to register and let us spend June reading hot humidity filled southern books.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Swamplandia! (copy)
It is going to be a swampy summer! All this water will take time to evaporate and I foresee stagnant mosquito-infested pools in our near future. Why not celebrate with the perfect book titled “Swamplandia!” by debut author Karen Russell.
Swamplandia! is a family operated theme park in Florida on a swampy island in the Gulf of Mexico. It enjoyed being the top rated Gator-Themed Park and Swamp Café for years, but things are changing. World of Darkness moved north and everyone wants to walk on the neon tongue of the behemoth or should I say laser behe(mouth) they offer.
Back in the day, Swamplandia! entertained sold out crowds with a routine called “Swimming with the Seths.” Seth was the name given to the very first alligator that attracted tourist to the theme park. Now, all 98 gators are called Seth.
“Swimming with the Seths” was a closing act done in complete darkness. Hilola Jane Bigtree stood on the edge of a green diving board overlooking the gator infested pool. The audience would see her silhouetted body poised with arms above her head in the faint light of the moon. The spot lights were always turned off.
With a swift graceful move she would dive into the black water and swim the length emerging on the other side in three minutes. Most of the audience held their breath night after night. Some even stood and gasped as a gator or two matched her stroke side-by-side. It never failed, though. She arose from the dangerous waters unscathed to hundreds of clapping hands.
The family, Bigtree, is two less now. Hilola, the mother, died of cancer and her father, Sawtooth Bigtree, is in a retirement home on the mainland. All that is left of the tribe is Chief Bigtree, older brother, Kiwi Bigtree, and two sisters, Osceola and 13-year-old Ava Bigtree. The story is told through young Ava’s eyes.
It is Ava who discovers a rare red alligator in the newly hatched brood. She says nothing to Chief for she knows the hatchling may not live past the week. Within three days all of her brothers and sisters die of yolk sac infection, but she continues to thrive. This rare little red Seth may just save the park.
There is no muck associated with this book! “Swamplandia!’ establishes Russell’s clear, clean and fascinating prose.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Scaredy Squirrel (copy)
Do you know Scaredy Squirrel? If you are a child of 3, 4 or 5, you should! Scaredy Squirrel is scared of a lot of things. Mostly, he is scared of the unknown like many preschool children. He is also scared of things he knows about, but has yet to come into contact with such as sharks, porcupines and bunnies.
The unknown can be frightening. Scaredy Squirrel decides to stay away from the unknown and always do the same things. He lives in a nut tree and decides he will never leave it. There are scary things below his tree like green Martians, killer bees, tarantulas, poison ivy, germs, and sharks. These must be avoided at all costs!
Let us concentrate on Scaredy Squirrel’s fear of germs. Before little readers can delve into one of his books there is a warning. “Scaredy Squirrel insists that everyone wash their hands with antibacterial soap before reading this book.” If he does come into contact with germs, he wears mittens on his hands as an added layer of protection.
There are some advantages and disadvantages involved with never leaving a nut tree. The ups include a great view, plenty of nuts, and a safe place. The downs include the same old view, the same old nuts, and the same old place.
To prepare for a day when he might have to evacuate the tree, Scaredy makes an emergency kit. This very important kit includes a hard hat, antibacterial soap, calamine lotion, parachute, bug spray, mask with rubber gloves, net, Band-Aid, and sardines. The sardines will be thrown at any impending sharks while Scaredy makes his getaway.
It was a normal, ordinary day when something really scary happened. Remember our friend the squirrel is afraid of killer bees, right? Well, one day there comes one lone killer bee into Scaredy’s nut tree. What does Scaredy do? He panics and throws the emergency kit out of the tree!
Not the plan! Not even the backup plan, but Scaredy recovers and makes a dive for the kit. “But something incredible happens…he starts to glide. Scaredy Squirrel is no ordinary squirrel. He’s a Flying Squirrel!”
Join Scaredy Squirrel on his nutty adventures through this wacky series by Canadian Mélanie Watt. I do caution, this story is not suitable for walruses.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
How to Never Look Fat Again (copy)
If April showers bring May flowers. What does hail bring? Well, it sent me running for cover in our basement last night! As I headed for the door I grabbed How to Never Look Fat Again: Over 1,000 Ways to Dress Thinner – Without Dieting! by Charla Krupp.
While the hail bombarded our roof, I was hunkered on a beat-up kitchen climb chair thumbing through the pictures. As the mud swirled around my legs, I was thankful that I was wearing the correct boots to make me look thin.
Charla says, “Over-the-knee boots look too lady-of-the-evening. Mid-calf boots and short boots are out of the running, too. Any boot that hits across the widest part of your calf is not the boot for you; it should hit right under the knee.”
She continues, “Stick to dull, soft leathers or suede; patent is a fattening finish.” Pshew! My brown soft leathers were perfect. Although, I could wipe the mud off my boots better if they were slick patents.
Listening for the roar of an impending tornado, I scanned the photos of “bootiful” celebs looking thin in evening gowns. The book displays the usual suspects: Jessica Beal, Jennifer Lopez and Beyoncé. According to Charla, all I need is shapewear like Spanx and I will have smooth assets. Bless her heart; she does not know me very well.
If I go flying through the air like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, I can only hope that the ruby slippers will not come with ankle straps. Apparently, straps will cut across my wide ankles making me look “stumpified.” Heaven forbid.
When the storm began to ease, I was thankful I did not have to return to earth with my flappy arms. My peasant dress was a no-no! Charla says, “A peasant is not so pleasant when its banded puff sleeve hits you across the widest part of your arm, especially in a contrasting color.”
But it was Charla’s best suggestion to hide belly fat that I took to heart. “Hold your bag in front of your stomach, a tried-and-true celebrity trick. A big clutch works, too.” On page 124, Jessica Simpson sports luggage size purses in three photos demonstrating this technique. I chose to emerge from the dark basement carrying my cat.
Skip the purchase, and check this book out at the library. Charla uses too many skinny celebs like Reese Witherspoon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jada Pinkett Smith, and Jessica Parker to make her point. Come on! Have you ever seen Kelly Ripa sport extra weight?!?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Year of the Tiger! (copy)
This may be the Chinese Year of the Rabbit, but it feels more like the year of the tiger. This has nothing to do with Tiger Woods! I am talking about new books with tiger in the title. Actually, I may spend my summer reading all these tiger books making it the summer of the tiger.
Here is the list of outstanding books with tiger in the title: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua, The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival by John Vaillant, Tiger, Tiger: A Memoir by Margaux Fragoso, and The Tiger’s Wife by Tea Obreht.
Amy Chua began her book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, with one goal in mind. She wanted to show that Chinese mothers are superior to American mothers. Stereotypically, Chinese students do achieve more in our American society. She herself a law professor at Yale raises two daughters, Sophia and Lulu. Sophia performed at Carnegie Hall at the age of 14 and Lulu is a statewide violin prodigy.
Chua claims it is the “Tiger Mother” who trains her children for success. She opens her book with, “The Tiger, the living symbol of strength and power, generally inspire fear and respect.”
The Tiger by John Vaillant tells the true story of a man-eating tiger in Russia. From reviews read, readers will be entranced by the Russian history and the big cat’s fearless stalking of human prey. One story has a tiger pulling a mattress out of a cabin and laying on it while waiting for the woodsman to return. The tiger left only traces of the unlucky man, “so small and so few they could fit in a shirt pocket.” Gulp.
Publishers Weekly says Tiger, Tiger is a, “gut wrenching memoir [that] eloquently depicts psychological and sexual abuse in disturbing detail.” I am getting anxious just typing this international bestseller by Fragoso making its American debut this year.
Another international author sensation is 25-year-old Tea Obreht. Born in Yugoslavia in 1985 she revisits her childhood home in her debut novel, The Tiger’s Wife. Main character, Natalia, relates a story told by her grandfather of an escaped zoo tiger that befriends a deaf-mute woman. Two different stories run concurrent in what BookList claims, “[a] gripping novel of legends and loss in a broken land.”
And you thought Tiger's Wife would be a scathing tell all by Elin Nordegren. Have a roaring good time this summer reading all these books.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Loving Frank (copy)
One of the things I like about reading is that I can do it at any time. Prop my feet up on the chaise and nap with a book. Read in the kitchen while waiting for water to boil. Listen to a book on tape as I commute to races. Whip out a paperback while waiting in line at the MDOT.
What do people do on sleepless nights if they are not readers? I always wonder this early in the morning when I cannot sleep. I get out of bed and head to my favorite chair and read for an hour or 30 minutes and then go back to sleep. It works like a charm.
For the past two weeks, I have spent a lot of time reading in the wee early hours. My sinuses wake me around three(ish) and instead of fighting it, I boil some water and take in warm liquids while getting comfy in my chair.
These past weeks I find myself searching the rues of Paris for Kotzwinkle’s Loli in The Hot Jazz Trio and following that Loving Frank adulterer, Mamah, as she navigates the judgments of Chicago’s Victorian society. Then I head back to bed to dream about these characters.
Loving Frank by Nancy Horan is a debut novel that lingers in the minds of readers. It is the fictionalized story of the true love affair between Martha “Mamah” Borthwick and Frank Lloyd Wright.
They met when Mamah’s husband, Edwin, wanted to build a modern home. They lived in a choppy, over stuffed Queen Anne on Oak Park that originally belonged to her father. A neighborhood over was a new home by local architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, that had everyone gossiping. During the open house Edwin fell in love with the spacious, entertaining floor plan.
Mamah knew Catherine, Frank’s wife, through the 19th Century Club where they were both members. Through Edwin’s persistence, they began to socialize with the Wrights and Frank agreed to submit plans for their new home.
As the house takes on shape so does Mamah and Frank’s relationship. They love books and share the same fondness for “Ruskin, Thoreau, Emerson, Nietzsche, and Goethe.” A librarian before the children, Mamah finds a peer in Frank. Edwin does not like to read.
Mamah’s thoughts propel this book; although, readers will gain insight into the young architect genius, too.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
For All the Tea in China (copy)
I blame it on Major Pettigrew and his last stand. The book I talked about two weeks ago oozed Englishness. The constant drinking of tea had me wondering where it all began. So, I picked up Sarah Rose’s new book For All the Tea in China: How England Stole the World’s Favorite Drink and Changed History.
Oh, my! This is not a boring history lesson like I thought, but a tale of espionage in a foreign land to steal trade secrets. Rose states, “Tea met all the definitions of intellectual property: It was a product of high commercial value; it was manufactured using a formula and process unique to China, which China protected fiercely; it gave China a vast advantage over its competitors.”
Back in the 1700 and early 1800’s, England had a lucrative business with two nonnative flowers. The poppy and the camellia were creating quite an economic growth in India, China and the U.K. India, ruled by the Queen, grew poppies for trade with China who cultivated tea for the English. Everything was going smoothly until China recognized that they could grow their own poppy crop.
In these times, Europeans were nonexistent in the countryside of China. An occasional Frenchman travelled up the Yangtze for mission work, but the white devil was strictly forbidden.
When Robert Fortune first entered the country in 1845 he was restricted to the port of Canton. Forbidden to walk in the city, he would be jailed if he left the warehouse during his stay. He never saw the 20 foot wall that enclosed the town just a block away.
Without education or a prestigious family, Fortune was destined for the machines of the Industrial Age, but he had a passion for the exotic. He set sail at the age of 13 and found he disliked the sailor’s life but loved the discovery of new places, plants and cultures. He documented everything and fancied himself a self-taught botanist.
War of the Roses would not be red but pink if it was not for Fortune. He is the Double Yellow in tea roses and the rare white wisteria. The plant he is most known for (the kumquat) is locally known as a Fortunella.
Follow Fortune as he makes his way through the countryside in search of green and black tea dressed as a Mandarin spy named Sing Wa or Bright Flower. I would not surprise me to hear the Fortune Cookie is also named after him.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Running the Books (copy)
Avi Steinberg was wandering aimlessly through his young adult life. Before he went to Harvard he possessed an insatiable fervor for his religion. He quit his high school basketball team called the MCATS to dedicate his life to the study of the “Torah”. At every opportunity he would pull his copy out and study it taking the rabbinic law literally to not waste time learning his religious rites.
Avi blames it all on Harvard. He had the best of intentions. He was, “determined to pray three times a day, keep kosher, learn “Torah” for x hours a day, wear his yarmulke and tzitzis with pride, [and] stay away from girls.” It was only a matter of time, his rabbis agreed, and he would become a sinner.
His rabbis were right. “All I did was chase girls, do drugs, and write a carefully argued, typo-ridden satire of a senior thesis paper on Bugs Bunny.” After graduating he bounced around from family to friends refusing to work. It was an ad on Craig’s List that provided a light at the end of Avi’s tunnel.
He was attending yet another wedding as his classmates moved forward with their lives, when he received a little tough love. Earlier that day he was cornered in the bathroom by Rabbi Blumenthal who questioned him about his future. It was a strained talk and they both left the room bitter. During the dance sequence of the ceremony where woman dance on one side and men on the other he was struck.
The blow was hard and accurate. It landed on his jaw and sent him crashing to the floor. “I looked up. Dancing expressionlessly was Rabbi Blumenthal. I was seized by the suspicion that it was he who had popped me, in fulfillment of the rabbinic dictum for dealing with the Bad Son, ‘you strike him in the teeth…’.”
Avi arose from the Hasidic mosh pit and went to his friend Yoni. He yelled over the music, “I think I’m going to prison.” Yoni replied, “Nice, and honestly, dude? It’d probably do you some good.”
This is Avi Steinberg’s true story as related in Running the Books: The Adventures of an Accidental Prison Librarian. Forget that I am a librarian suggesting a book about a fellow librarian and read it for the many interesting events that propel Avi forward.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (copy)
The cover art attracted me first. Not that it was out of the ordinary, many of us have seen clothing draped over a coatrack, but this art is unusual. Two wool coats, one male and one female, facing each other with a fedora towering over a red felt hat that seems to be resting in the crook of the larger overcoat’s lapel. The shading in the artwork gives the appearance of two lovers standing outdoors on a breezy sunny day.
Obviously, the cover screams romance, but then the title gives it an air of respectability. “Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand” by Helen Simonson sounds military in nature and one has to wonder why the male coat is civilian and not dress uniform. I praise the publishers on their choice of artwork.
Ernest Pettigrew is a retired British Army Major living a quiet life in Sussex, England near the sea. Behind his house is the rolling meadows of Lord Dagenham’s estate. In his small neighborhood he is surrounded by ivy covered homes with lush green gardens where rabbits and hedge hogs play.
One block to the west, visitors to the neighborhood become a little unnerved. After seeing the flowers in bloom, they face bright orange signs that anchor the turn declaring, “ATM HERE!” and “Lotto!” The brightness of the convenience store jars even the mildest manner of man.
A sunny Sunday morning and Major Pettigrew finds himself face to face with the owner of that quickie mart. He opens his door to find Mrs. Ali staring at him impatiently. She is there to pick up money owed for newspapers having gone a whole month without the payment. Her distasteful face suddenly turns to a smile as she realizes Major Pettigrew, a man known for his impeccable taste in clothes, stares back at her in a pink robe with bright red roses climbing his trunk.
Pettigrew grows lightheaded not sure if it was his brisk walk to open the door or the embarrassment of having been caught in his late wife’s favorite robe. Mrs. Ali suddenly finds she is shoring him on the door frame as his face losses all color. With the moves of a trained EMT, she turns and walks him down the hall to his favorite chair.
Mrs. Ali leaves him to start the kettle for tea when the Major announces he lost his younger brother this morning.
Get comfy with some tea yourself; this read is well worth the time.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Snow Rabbit, Spring Rabbit (copy)
During our big snow this winter, I felt privileged to see something. We have dogs and an excellent hunting cat and I thought I would not see this sight as long as they had reign over the yard.
At first I thought it was a clump of magnolia leaves blown to the wide open space perched atop the white snow, but then it moved. He scratched behind his ear by raising one of his front paws over his head.
It was a little brown bunny sitting atop the snow in our field. I watched mesmerized and finally it hopped at a high rate of speed to one of our Magnolias in the front yard. It was like getting to see an unexpected friend on a very cold day.
My thoughts turned to spring and the warmer weather to come. Staring, all bundled in fleece and an Ole Miss snuggie, I could not help but wish for the sun’s heat. Nothing says spring to me more than a bunny in the snow.
Maybe it reminds me of Easter time and the edge of warmth I associate with the winter to spring transition. Where I grew up Easter typically was a cold day. Back home it could be 32 degrees that Sunday, but I was not going to miss wearing my new short sleeve dress. Oh, and to hide it in a bulky wool coat was out of the question!
Speaking of bunnies, warm weather and wool coats, I found a great little book titled Snow Rabbit, Spring Rabbit: A Book of Changing Seasons by Il Sung Na. Our little white bunny shows us how other animals live throughout the winter. Some like the Canadian Geese fly away from the cold. Some turtles swim to warmer waters. Some sheep stay but keep their wool coats on.
The colors and illustrations, created by the author, bring a magical feel to the reader. The texture of the trees look to be scratched bark and the rabbit’s fur seems to be made of delicate lace. Our little white rabbit displays humor and curiosity, too. He sits atop a migrating turtle and peeks into the sleeping bears’ cave. At the end young readers are treated to a brown rabbit winking at them.
Il Sung Na is a Korean author/illustrator who has finally made it across the pond. She released this same book in the U.K under the title Brrrr: A Book of Winter in 2010. This book is a spring treat for anyone under five years of age.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
From Manhattan to Mississippi (copy)
I spent some time with Daisy Karam-Read yesterday. She is the author of two books, From Manhattan to Mississippi: A New Yorker Falls in Love with the South and The Love Affair Continues: From Manhattan to Mississippi, Part Two. I did not speak to her personally. Instead, I read these two books in one sitting.
Twelve years ago, Karam-Read left her high rise apartment overlooking the Hudson River in Tribeca to follow the man she loves to Ocean Springs, Mississippi. From the book jacket I can read that her friends thought her incredulous. I understand totally. We came down from Memphis and shocked every one of our Bartlett, Collierville and Germantown friends. It was like we were moving to the abyss never to be seen again.
Mississippi gets little respect around the nation. We seem to others to be a group of dim-witted fatsos who would not know a Schubert from an arugula. Obviously, we are not and it is nice to see when someone’s prejudices are exposed as incorrect. This is what readers will experience if they attempt these books.
One might get a little tired of Karam-Read’s recurring romantic view of the South. Yes, our men are chivalrous. Yes, charm exudes from all of our pores. Yes, gardening and cooking are two genetic traits. Yes, our southern drawl can be hard to decipher, but no, we do not always wear our shoes. Her comment, “Southern Ladies do not walk around barefoot!” does not take into account the beach.
It feels like Karam-Read is excited when stereotypes ring true, but is also equally shocked at the State’s beautiful architecture, scrumptious cuisine and international culture. She is slightly misguided as to her sense of place, also. She incorrectly calls Ocean Springs the Deep South. Fellow Mississippians living from Tunica to Belzoni would welcome the Gulf breezes she enjoys.
Do not worry. She is corrected in the second book by a charming Mississippi man living in Smith County. Yes, I realize. Still not in the Delta, but at least it is closer to true Deep South.
I enjoyed both books, but her second, more “Mississippian” enlightened book is better. The first book’s audience seems to be those friends who questioned her move.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter (copy)
Larry Ott is a lonely man. He lives his life in rural Mississippi in the family’s home all alone. Amongst his dead father’s favorite chair and his forgetful mother’s knick-knacks, he sits and reads his horror books, keeping the place clean although he never has company.
It seems as if Larry’s forty-one years have always been filled with loneliness. Being one of the only whites in his 70’s integrated schools, he remembers the nice things said to him by fellow classmates because it rarely happened.
Things were not any easier when his father was alive either. Larry’s natural talent for reading always put him at odds with the man known for his baseball abilities. Forget trying to help him at the garage where essential wing nuts seemed to fly from his sweaty hands. The best he could do for the family business was to keep the bays clean and the oil canisters filled.
Then there was the thing that happened 25 years ago. The one thing that makes him suffer the most. The reason boys taunt him late at night by tearing up the yard in their 4-wheel drives throwing beer bottles at the house. The motivation Chief Investigator Roy French uses to enter his home and search the property.
See, Larry is what law enforcement likes to call a person of interest. Some 25 years ago, Cindy Walker went missing. The last person to see her was Larry. She went to the drive-in-movie and just walked away from their date.
The nightmare is happening again. The Rutherford girl has been missing eight days and all eyes are on Larry. It does not help that the one friend he had growing up has moved back to the town but refuses to return Larry’s phone messages.
So begins Tom Franklin’s fourth novel titled, Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter. Franklin currently teaches at the University of Mississippi where he lives with his poet wife, Beth Ann Fennelly.
I first heard of Mr. Franklin through my preacher’s wife while he was the John and Renee Grisham Writer-in-Residence at Ole Miss. Back in 2002 he was working on a little book and she was uncertain of his choice of careers. That book was Hell at the Breech and I do believe he has found his calling.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Past is Never Dead (copy)
Two inhumane murders happened in 1964 and nothing was done. Suspects were brought in for questioning and still nothing was done. Time passed, years slipped away, and then Connie Chung came looking for cold cases in Mississippi.
Chung had earlier success with the unsolved murder of Ben Chester White. Three men walked free from the murder in 1966. “Jack Jones, who watched the killing, was never charged; Claude Fuller, who pumped over ten bullets into White, was let go after his trail resulted in a hung jury; and Ernest Avants, who confessed twice to lawmen to shooting White’s head off with a shotgun, was acquitted in state court.”
Digging through old court records in the basement of the Natchez Historical Society, Chung and film producer Harry Phillips found the transcripts of Avants’ trial. Reading through they quickly discovered an overlook fact. The crimes happened in Homochitto National Forest making this a federal not a state incident. These two non-lawyers stumbled upon obvious evidence to reopen the case.
Chung headed out to interview the last living suspect in White’s murder, Avants. She came face-to-face with a racist redneck who loved to brag about his past Klan activities. After the interview, Chung and Phillips told U.S. Attorney Brad Pigott about the overlooked jurisdiction and Avants was indicted at the age of sixty-nine.
The 1964 murders were different. Henry Dee and Charles Moore were killed a month after the three Civil Rights workers went missing in Neshoba County. When Moore’s partial body was discovered in the Mississippi River, the initial M on his belt buckle was falsely identified as belonging to Michael Schwerner.
Twenty-eight federal agents descended from the north to investigate the missing Civil Rights workers, but Dee and Moore were left alone as a mere local matter. In The Past is Never Dead, by Harry N. Maclean, they now have a national voice.
In the style of Truman Capote, Maclean writes a compelling true-crime that Mississippians will wince while reading. His negative portrayal of whites as all racist during the 60s can be irritating at the beginning of the book. Stay the course and the story opens up chapter after chapter to engross.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
I Remember Nothing (copy)
Nora Ephron’s done it again with her new book I Remember Nothing.” I loved her last, I Feel Bad about My Neck, and was a little leery of another book complaining about aging. Could she write about something else? Should she write about something else?
I almost fell out of my reading chair when she admitted her age near the end of the book. I had sat the book cover down and was looking at her face thinking she looked great for being in her early fifties. That was a joke! She is 69 and looks spectacular for her age.
In essence, she has earned the right to talk about old age and I should not criticize her for continually coming to the same trough. What I would like to see from her is a book about aging well, though. Her secrets need to be told!
Who cares if you cannot remember your sister’s name or recognize her when she greets you on a street corner? If one looks sassy and stylish they can pull off any odd encounter with grace. This is how I picture her from her article which shares the same title as the book.
Can you imagine not being able to recognize someone you see on a constant basis? In fairness, she was at a street corner in another city where the last person she expected to see was her sister.
It is crazy the famous people she has forgotten but the minutia she recalls on the same day as the meeting. Her first example is Eleanor Roosevelt. She was dying to meet Mrs. Roosevelt having idolized her as a child. A photo of her mother and Eleanor hung prominently in the family home and even today she can picture her mother wearing a corsage and the First Lady sporting pearls.
Ephron can visualize the trip taken to see her with interns from Wellesley and Vassar. She remembers the room in Hyde Park. She also remembers getting lost and the bad turn that started it all, but sadly she remembers nothing of the iconic lady.
As a young reporter, she was sent to cover the Beatles in 1964 as they embarked from the plane. She spent the whole weekend following their every move and writing her observations. She even stood back stage at the Ed Sullivan Show that Sunday night and recollects the obnoxious teenage girls all screaming. Ask her about the Beatles themselves though and she draws a blank.
It is scary the things one forgets, but Ephron makes it all fun while looking great at the same time.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Glass Castle (copy)
The earliest memory Jeanette Walls has is not pleasant. She is three years old, standing on a chair overseeing her hotdogs as they boil on the stove. Juju, the family dog stares at her in hopes of snagging a delicious treat. She caves in and jabs a juicy dog holding it over him to cool. As she bends over to serve him the hem of her dress connects with the burner and catches on fire.
“Frozen with fear, I watched the yellow-white flames make a ragged brown line up the pink fabric of my skirt and climb my stomach. Then the flames leaped up, reaching my face.”
“I screamed. I smelled the burning and heard a horrible crackling as the fire singed my hair and eyelashes. Juju was barking. I screamed again.”
At the hospital Jeanette received skin grafts from her upper thighs to cover the burns on her stomach, ribs and chest. Afterwards, the nurses wrapped her entire left side and attached her left arm to the bed post behind her. She remarked, “Look, I’m a half-mummy.”
The doctors and nurses quizzed her at the beginning. Where did you get all these cuts and bruises? How did you get burned? What are you doing making hotdogs by yourself?
She was confused. She thought, what is so hard about making hotdogs? You just boil water. It isn’t like there is some huge receipt you have to follow. She also wondered why it was important for her mother to oversee her cooking. She was quick to tell them, “Mom says I’m mature for my age and she lets me cook for myself a lot.”
After around six weeks in the hospital, Jeanette’s dad appeared in the hallway door. He told her they were going to check out, Rex Walls—style. He unhooked her arm from behind her head and gentle cradled her against his chest. He then took off for the door. A couple of nurses yelled at him to stop but he kept running.
At the curb, we were met by the rest of the family sitting in the Blue Goose as it idled. Dad yelled for Mom to scoot over because it was time to skedaddle.
As one reads The Glass Castle, many of Jeanette’s memories can be placed in the same “not pleasant” category. Yet, she is not bitter. And, although her story is sad, she writes because she needs to get it out. You will read because you need to find out.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Year of Our Lord (copy)
Ever read a book and say, “Man, I would love to meet this guy and all his supportive friends!”? The guy I am referring to is Lucas McCarty and some of his friends include the congregation of The Trinity House of Prayer in Moorhead, Miss. I found him by reading Year of Our Lord: Faith, Hope, and Harmony in the Mississippi Delta by T.R. Pearson with photographs by Langdon Clay.
I spent an enjoyable night reading this nonfiction book. Pearson’s talent includes the ability to make the reader part of the community he describes. I kicked pebbles on the deserted downtown streets of Greenville. I ran a fishing line to check the oxygen levels of catfish ponds in the Delta. I sweated through a three hour sermon as the preacher promised to be brief. Most of all, I twitched and jerked with no control over my drool in a voiceless boy’s body.
Lucas McCarty lacked the oxygen he needed to be healthy. It took the doctor too long to retrieve his little body from his mother’s womb. As a result, he has cerebral palsy. It is a mild case. It could be worse.
Lucas can walk on his knees or scoot around in his wheelchair. He can call out in tune with the choir, but he cannot speak. His hands are drawn-in and jerky which makes typing impossible. In order to communicate he carries a box around filled with push button symbols. Although, he is limited in functionality he has a job as a spokesperson for the box called a Pathfinder.
Since birth, Lucas has known and felt his difference by the way people treat him. He believes the black community treats him in a less standoffish way. For example, he watches a white child stand and stare at him while a black child greets him and starts asking questions.
He also feels more comfortable praising God in a black church versus his Episcopal rearing. In Trinity he is at home amongst an accepting family. His best buddy, John Woods, brought him there as a child and now the choir saves him a spot in the loft. After praising the Lord in voice he moves down to the pulpit and sits behind Bishop William B. Knighten. It is here he will hear the bishop exclaim that God never makes a mistake.
Along with having an outstanding author in Pearson and subject in McCarty, readers will enjoy another delight in the photographer. Internationally known, Clay displays Mississippi and its peoples in a light that makes one think moving watercolors. This book makes me proud to be a Mississippian.
Watch the new YouTube video here!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Snowy Day Books (copy)
What a wonderful gift to be given – a snowy day in the south. It makes surroundings pretty and white and then melts away like a distant dream. As long as one is not on the roads traveling, it can be a perfect day. I consider a day when one can do what one wishes such as sleep late, read a book, piece a puzzle or play in the snow as perfect.
One of my joys as librarian at the Como Public Library was opening on a snowy day. I lived a block away and could easily walk to work and open the building for the locals who might be looking for a book or video. It was also a central location for children to come in and get warm between snowball fights.
In celebration of the white stuff, I pulled four brand-new snow books from our children’s display.
Snow! Snow! Snow! by Lee Harper depicts threes dogs enjoying the day flying down the best sledding hill ever. The two pups, no names included in the story, stand excited by the window. It has snowed overnight and the siblings wake to a winter surprise. Harper depicts them hiking to the lake and then carousing down a steep hill. His illustrations capture a perfect day.
Murray the mouse wants to make a perfect soup. He gathers ingredients but is missing a carrot. The farmer agrees to give him a carrot but first he must haul wood to make a barn. Mouse then visits the horse, but the horse wants jingle bells in exchange for hauling wood. At each point in the story mouse rushes past Snowman to encounter the next barter. Quick children will notice that Snowman has no nose. Lisa Moser’s pyramidal story and Ben Mantle’s illustrations in Perfect Soup is, um, perfect.
When I was little, says children’s book author Patricia Hubbell, “I wanted to grow up and be a farmer.” Well, let us be thankful she is an author because she carries the perfect sing-song quality to all her children’s books. Listen to the bounce in her new book Snow Happy! “We’re silly-willy laughy, feeling slightly daffy, leaping through the snow – Snow Happy!”
The Smiley Snowman by M. Christina Butler and illustrated by Tina Macnaughton can be a little less happy when he becomes cold. His furry building friends, Small Fox, Little Bear and Fluffy the bunny, take turns making him warm and returning his joyful disposition.
As your kids romp and stomp through the snow this winter, remember the library for that perfect quiet time afterwards.
OMG! This appeared in the Commercial Appeal! Where have I been not to see this!!!
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Leaving Gee’s Bend (copy)
Outside of Camden, Alabama is a small community called Gee’s Bend. It is isolated from the rest of the world by the Alabama River that snakes south then strikes west only to head back north to its origin. From the sky, the tear drop looks like the state of Alabama is crying.
Ludelphia Bennett has no time to cry. She must get Doc Nelson in Camden to come to her home and save her mother. Ever since little Rose’s birth, her mother has been unresponsive. She has fits of coughing and powerful sweats and chills, but when she gibbers it is to her own dead mother. Ludelphia knows she is out of her mind.
Everyday has the promise of a better momma. Aunt Doshie gives her a steam treatment that clears her throat, but once it is taken away the rattle comes back. The house is getting stale with the smell of sickness, too. No matter what Ludelphia hopes, she still sees her mother’s eyes sinking.
Her last bout of coughing sets Ludelphia into motion. Her mother sprays something on the quilt and her dad identifies it as blood. Aunt Doshie whispers the word pneumonia and Ludelphia runs outside. She cannot stand the sound of her father crying.
Ludelphia is leaving Gee’s Bend for the first time in her life. She will have to cross a river and walk through a town she has never seen to find a doctor she does not know. She is scared but she has her patches of material and needle with thread to comfort her. This will be the best quilt her mother has ever seen – if she lives.
Set in 1932, young adult readers will love the cliff hangers associated with Irene Latham’s first book, Leaving Gee’s Bend. At a library conference in Vicksburg, Latham explained her idea for the book. She was intrigued by the areas rich history of African American Quilting. Once she started researching the material she ran across photographs from the area of that period.
One photograph in particular displays a girl, approximately 10-years-of-age, gazing out a tenant house window. Latham claims she could almost read the newspaper pages used to insulate the open window. Not made of glass but a large piece of ply wood, the window swings in and out like a barn door.
This girl, leaning in profile on the window sill, is dreaming or that is what Latham begans to imagine. It also occurrs to Latham that she can only see the child’s left eye. What might be this child’s life growing up in rural Alabama with one eye? You will have to read Ludelphia’s story to find out.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Moveable Feast
Still reading Pat Conroy's My Reading Life and I am taking my time in the Paris section. Yes, it is taking me an extra long time to read a short memoir, but there is this thing called Christmas that demands I do other things...
I got a new Reference & User Services Quarterly in the mail yesterday. Picking it up this morning, I notice two hot topic articles that had the potential to wake my brain. Well, they did indeed spark some thought, and as I skimmed the next page I read Brad Hooper's name as guest columnist. He works for Booklists and is a great source for new readings!
In Hooper's RUSA article he talks about our love for food and travel writing. In the article he quotes Hemingway as an early understander of combining the two pleasures.
"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."
I love it when different sources of reading seem to tie together! Oh, and check out this website where I got Marc Chagall's Eiffel Tower Serenade.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Night Owl
I am up late reading Pat Conroy's new book, My Reading Life. Good stuff, folks!
In the span of two chapters, my emotions mirror masks hanging at the entrance to local town theatres. Conroy's introduction to the opposite of librarians in Eileen Hunter had me rolling with laughter. Then, I was shocked at my own tears while reading the reaction from family members to the release of his book, "The Great Santini."
Oh, and I have a book suggestion for Mr. Conroy. Read, The Man who Loved Books too much: The True Story of a Thief, a Detective, and a World of Literary Obsession by Allison Hoover Bartlett. The story of David belongs in this book!
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
The Elf on the Shelf (copy)
When I was little, my mother had a set of ornaments I could not figure out. For one thing, they were metallic-colored in blue, green, red, and purple. They did not fit in with the standard reds, whites and greens of our other tree adornments. They were huge in comparison to the other decorations, too; so much that the tree limbs sagged once attached. Plus, I thought them ugly.
I would ask my mother (more than once - on a yearly basis) why she hung such ugly things. She never answered my rude questions, but kept with the tradition until we moved to a new home in 1974. Of course, once we moved I wanted to know why we did not display them anymore.
What I am referring to are a set of elves. Sneaky stuffed elves suspended from their satiny caps, they sat in a perpetual crouch with their arms hugging their knees on a pillow. Their plastic faces forever frozen in a know-it-all grin. Can you tell? Even today, I do not like those hideous things.
Low-n-behold, these little imps have a story behind them. Apparently, I am not the only child of the 70s that had elves in the home. Carol V. Aebersold, according to the website www.elfontheshelf.com, grew up with a special elf to watch her during the Christmas season.
Later, when Carol had children of her own, she brought the elf to her house and they named him Fisbee. A tradition in the making, Fisbee was there to answer the age-old question, “How does Santa really know if we are being ‘naughty or nice?’” Well, the elves keep him informed. They watch throughout the day and report back to Santa at night. All it takes is a little Christmas magic and they fly back-and-forth in the wink of an eye.
Chanda Bell, Carol’s daughter collaborated with her to bring this tradition to the world through a children’s book titled The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition. Inside, young readers will find full-page spreads of watercolor illustrations by Coë Steinwart. The text is short and sweet and meant for the youngest of children ensuring the tradition in place as they grow older.
The toy that accompanies the book is almost exactly like those ornaments of my childhood except less sinister. The faces have a sweet kewpie doll look and they come in both black and white. They are sure to please children and may even keep them “in-check” during the holiday season. Make these elves your personal "Santa spy cam" for generations to come.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Book Lust to Go (copy)
I know a book is a big hit with me when I am still talking about it a month later. I was in my mother’s kitchen admiring her collections. She has various groups of M&M characters, Louisville Stoneware and antique tins. Each time I come home, she changes and rearranges things so that I see something new.We were having hot tea when I begin to tell her about The Man who Loved Books too much by Allison Hoover Bartlett. (Book talked it last month.) Book collecting is all in the finding. The lusting after an edition or accidently coming across a signed copy while rummaging through the local Goodwill, is the goal.
Apparently, I touched on a nerve. She called my dad into the room and asked me to reiterate my point. I told them when a complete collection of books, let’s say on trains, comes up for sale auctioneers cannot sell the lot. Collectors do not want to purchase a complete collection. They might want a book or two, but never the hard work of someone else. The fun of collecting is in the finding; preferably, acquiring a little at a time.
“See,” she said. “eBay does not count!”
When it comes to collectors, they make my Christmas shopping a joy. They know what they want or need in a collection; thus, I go forth and shop with purpose.
What if you want to give a book for Christmas to an established reader? Picking up the latest bestseller might work, but what if you could give them something even better. The ultimate gift would be a book that is not only readable but full of other book ideas.
I love every book in the Book Lust series by Nancy Pearl for this reason. You might know the name Nancy Pearl from the librarian action figure made in her image. Not only is she a joy in person, but her image has become quite the collectable. I digress.
The latest in the series is Book Lust to Go. Pearl travels the world alphabetically giving readers suggestions. I headed straight for the chapter on Newfoundland to make sure she wrote about The Shipping News by Annie Proulx. While there I gathered suggestions like Howard Norman’s The Bird Artist and Farley Mowat’s Bay of Spirits.
Give this book and 1,000 Places to See before You Die by Patricia Schultz to any reader and they will see you as an excellent gift giver!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Thanksgiving for Toddlers (copy)
It is Turkey Time! I pulled some children’s books to share with you in hopes that some time will be spent in preparation for the event. This is the Turkey by Abby Levine and illustrated by Paige Billin-Frye explains the day through rhyme.
The book opens with, “This is the turkey to shout about! And Max is the one who picked it out.” Max, our main character, is old enough now to comprehend Thanksgiving for the first time. He is a lucky little boy. He and the rest of the younger members are allowed to sit at the grown up table. There they all join hands and bless with, “This is the thanks for all that’s good: home and family and friends and food.”
In The Perfect Thanksgiving by Eileen Spinelli and illustrated by JoAnn Adinolfi, a family comparison is made by our little unnamed narrator and her friend Abigail Archer.
Speaking of Abigail’s home our friend says, “Their turkey is plump and golden. Their napkins are made of lace. Their table is lit with candles. They all hold hands for grace.” She then says about her own family, “Our smoke alarm is wailing. Our turkey, burnt as toast. Dad spills the gravy down his shirt—a less-than-perfect host.”
Percy Isaac Gifford has all the rules little ones need to make it through their first Thanksgiving. In Thanksgiving Rules by Laurie Friedman and illustrated by Teresa Murfin, we find Percy very helpful. He says, “The first thing you should know: moms like to set a mood. They like to control everything from your clothing to the food.”
I leave you with a picture book that begs you to grab the kids and cozy into a soft chair. Saving Grace: A Prayer of Thanksgiving written by Virginia Kroll and illustrated by Timothy Ladwig, tells the story of pioneer prayer. The author claims that mealtime blessings originated in North America with the early settlers. That is a nice thought.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Grief Books (copy)
I consider my grandmother’s act heroic; unfortunately, I remain stoic. A week ago a doctor told Granny Smith that her heart was irreparable even though her pacemaker could go another 10 years. He continued with his realistic diagnosis, “Get your house in order.” Her house being quite orderly she took matters into her own hands and stopped eating. Saturday I kissed her goodbye and Sunday she passed.Grief is something everyone experiences. Sometimes it is like mine, puzzling. Other times it is bone aching where life loses all color. What type of books does one read when the world means nothing? Obviously, we turn to the Bible in times of need, but what else is out there?
I suggest two books by notable authors. The first book I recommend is A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis. His world lost color the day his wife died of cancer. Lewis went from a guy who felt he knew it all to someone who had no answers. His search is with God and with his own reactions such as his paragraph on depression.
“And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief. Except at my job—where the machine seems to run on much as usual—I loathe the slightest effort. Not only writing but even reading a letter is too much. Even shaving. What does it matter now whether my cheek is rough or smooth? They say an unhappy man wants distraction—something to take him out of himself. Only as a dog-tired man wants an extra blanket on a cold night; he’d rather lie there shivering than get up and find one. It’s easy to see why the lonely become untidy, finally, dirty and disgusting.”
Second book I suggest is Joan Didion's A Year of Magical Thinking. A book that grabs grief by the neck, strangles it, and then tries to discern why. Her year of madness began when husband died suddenly of a heart attack. A devoted spouse that edited her writing, finished her sentences, completed her in every way was gone overnight. She believed, even after a year had past that he would magically appear.
Why would I suggest two great writers for the recently bereaved? Both write to understand. Both share their daily thoughts however inappropriate they may feel them to be. Their words help because they are honest and insightful.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
The Man who Loved Books too Much (copy)
I have my pilfering little hands on a great book this week. One I do not want to share with anyone or take back to the library. I am talking about The Man who Loved Books too much: The True Story of a Thief, a Detective, and a World of Literary Obsession by Allison Hoover Bartlett.
The book opens with two anathemas. An anathema is a curse placed on someone who does someone else wrong. In the case of books, it is a curse on anyone who steals said book. The book in question is a medieval manuscript from a monastery in Barcelona, Spain.
The anathema reads, “For him that stealeth, or borroweth and returneth not, this book from its owner…let him be struck with palsy, & all his members blasted….Let bookworms gnaw his entrails in token of the Worm that dieth not, & when at last he goeth to his final punishment, let the flames of Hell consume him forever.”
The true story within is as fascinating as this opening. John Charles Gilkey has a passion for stealing books. From 1999 to 2003, he stole over $100,000 worth of rare books from dealers. Not to read, mind you, but for the pure pleasure of owning them. The book calls him a bibliokleptomaniac for he does not seek profit from his ill-gotten gains.
For every odd character there is an equally odd nemesis, and Gilkey’s counterpoint is Ken Sanders. A rare book dealer, Sanders turned amateur detective after volunteering to be security chair for the Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America. He spent three years of his life chasing the elusive Gilkey contributing to his incarceration. His friends nicknamed him the “Book Cop” or “Bibliodick.”
Bartlett mentions she entered a form of “research rapture” while gathering materials for this book. Along with sleuthing facts from paper sources, she also relied heavily on face-to-face interviews. She spent numerous hours with Gilkey (when not incarcerated) and Sanders touring their respective bookcases.
A quick note on Gilkey’s progress: As of August 2010, Gilkey can be found in Miami-Dade County where extradited on a fugitive warrant. It looks like he went to visit relatives in another state. Ha!
It was during Bartlett’s research that she also noticed book theft occurring on a regular basis in the press. Prompting her to write, “…for all its history, it is still a modern story.”
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Hound of the Baskervilles (copy)
Who knew a classic who-done-it could be this atmospheric! It has playfulness between the main characters, Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes. It has intrigue wrapped around every clue encountered. The backdrop feels ominous with its, “long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills.” Finally, the story takes place in October.Of course, I am alluding to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles. I selected it for the Northwest Reading Roundtable, sponsored by Sycamore Bank, through a recommendation from one of our instructors. I did not have the opportunity to read this in school and thought it might be fun; in addition, The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins is over 400 pages where The Hound is short.
Doyle’s biography mentions Collins and Edgar Allan Poe as his inspirations. He was especially intrigued with Poe, going as far as to write a forgotten short story in the author’s style. It was his serial stories of Sherlock Holmes that granted him financial success. He teamed up with The Strand, a London based magazine, then released the Holmes’ stories for a monthly stipend.
Doyle considered these Holmes/Watson stories “commercial” and not literary. The magazine deadline demanded he write faster than normal with little time to flesh out characters. Each story is plot-driven but has literary elements such as symbolism and imagery. His “commercial” skills became our modern day mystery genre.
Doyle grew tired of the duo and killed off Holmes in The Final Problem. This infuriated fans and the magazine lost 20,000 subscriptions because of the fictional death. Doyle was rather pleased though and decided to try other ventures such as going off to war.
The Hound of the Baskervilles marks Doyle’s reappearance of Holmes 10 years later. Fans were ecstatic with his return and did not mind that the author gave no explanation for the miraculous resurrection within the story. Readers had more to focus on with the expanding clues and possible suspects.
If you have not read this classic, pick it up! Heck, I’ll share my copy. People need exposure to Doyle’s cleverness. Oh, and if you find a book signed Dr. John Watson, take it to the nearest Antiques Road Show. Doyle often autographed things handed to him in this manner.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Ghost Stories of an Antiquary (copy)
October is the perfect time for ghost stories. The crisp autumn night under the stars in front of a red-yellow glowing campfire, is the perfect setting too. Oh, the lazy teenage hours spent listening to anyone who would offer a creepy tale like “The One Armed Man” or “The Hook” looms large in my set of favorite memories.
I would listen to stories about the Bell Witch of Tennessee without blinking. Imagine my joy when I learned John Bell’s daughter moved to Panola County and is buried in Batesville. It is said that if you walk over John Bell’s grave you will disappear. Wonder if the same is true for the daughter Betsy Bell?
Someone handed me Ghost Stories of an Antiquary by Montague Rhodes James two years ago and I picked it up for a trip to the coast. I read the ghost stories to my husband as he drove. We made it there and back without any accident or weird incident, but I read it in the daytime hours and not surrounded by cloudy darkness.
M.R. James (1862-1936) is considered to be, “the finest 20th century writer of ghost stories.” Who? It is in print. Has to be true, right?!? The introduction continues, “Yet Dr. James was not a very prolific fiction writer. He wrote only four books of ghost stories.” Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, written in 1904, is considered his best.
All the stories began as parlor productions. He told one innocently at a party and then he was asked to retell the story at another. Once he perfected his delivery, he wrote it down for future reference. As I read some of the stories, I can picture a scholar standing in front of an intimate group with sherry in hand for this is how some of these begin. The tales have autobiographical elements.
Warning to those who do attempt to read this collection, have a dictionary within reach. Can you define these words: catarrhs, mezzotint, sacristan, missal, antiphoner, morphology, ophiology, and palaeographer? We read handfuls that were indefinable such as the word stupige.
I experienced some hair-raising moments during the reading, but I realize this is a rare book. Local libraries do not have the title on the shelf, but they have plenty of other selections. Drop by one and scare up a ghastly book.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Homer's Odyssey (copy)
He felt like a little puff of smoke. At two-weeks-old he stretched barely four inches from the tip of his ears to his tail. His lungs were in perfect order though, and it wasn’t until he turned toward Patricia Khuly, VMD that she noticed his infection.Khuly mashed some cat food and milk together and placed it in front of the howling fur ball. He started to eat and she got a closer look at his eyes. They were infected and beyond healing. In order for the little kitten to live the eyes would have to be removed.
This was an ethics question Khuly did not want to face in her new position. It would be easy to ask her boss for direction, but she no longer had a superior. She was now the sole owner and operator of the budding veterinary practice.
Who would adopt a blind kitten? She would love to take the little one on but she already had a dog and all her money was tied to the new business. She would also be too busy for the one-on-one time this disability would demand. Maybe, it was more humane to end the kitten’s life.
The lovely couple who brought him in did not want him, once they heard he would be blind. Khuly saw no reason to kill the perfectly healthy kitten just because it could not see. She hit the phones calling all her cat loving friends for help.
Gwen Cooper was Khuly’s last hope. Cooper was wishy-washy when Khuly called her. She had two other cats and was living with a roommate who might not want the extra boarder. She agreed to look at the kitten as a way of being nice, but all along she knew she would say no.
When Cooper arrived, Khuly felt a little trepidation as she handed him over. She waited to see the look of disgust in Cooper’s eyes. All the others had made the same face, but Cooper smiled. Cooper then whispered a greeting and the little one started to purr. To everyone’s surprise she uttered, “I’m taking him home.”
The little black fur-ball grows up to be Homer the well traveled. His personality is totally opposite what one would imagine. He runs directly to noise. He greets everyone who comes in the door. He takes all of 15 minutes to figure out the configuration of a room. He runs full on and jumps with abandon. He is a delight!
Calling all cat owners! Homer’s Odyssey by Gwen Cooper is a must read. Each chapter opens with a picture of Homer and a quote from The Odyssey. He is truly a cat full of adventure.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Promise Me (copy)
I thought I was seeing things. My legs were achy and I thought possibly my mind was going. It was the ninth mile in an 11 mile Sunday morning run when I looked up and saw a hot pink fire truck. I literally rubbed my eyes and looked again only to see another pass by on the interstate. No, I wasn’t delirious. The next one went by and on the attached trailer was a huge breast cancer awareness ribbon decorated in camouflage.
To my relief, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I was seeing something real! It was a short convoy of fire engines on the Pink Heals Tour. They were coming from Orange Beach, AL into Memphis for an event that day.
The Pink Heals Tour is a group of all male firefighters who travel the country raising awareness of the disease. Their Facebook page says, “These men honor those who can no longer fight, stand with those who can fight and inspire those who watch.”
I want to continue that spirit by introducing you to a new book on the subject. Before I begin, there are a ton of breast cancer books. Many are “how-to” survive or care for someone and then plenty of survivor stories. Sadly, our shelves bulge over.
I am excited to be holding the new book Promise Me: How a Sister's Love Launched the Global Movement to End Breast Cancer by Nancy G. Brinker. Nancy is the founder of the Susan G. Komen for the Cure and her sister, Suzy, was diagnosed in 1977 with the dreaded disease.
The two Goodman sisters were best friends who grew up in postwar Peoria, Illinois. They lived an idyllic life. The book jacket says, “The sisters shared makeup tips, dating secrets, (and) plans for glamorous fantasy careers.” All this future planning was cut short with Suzy’s death sentence.
It is thanks to Suzy and Nancy that the stigma associated with breast cancer is finally a memory. Suzy lost her life to the disease three years late at the age of 36. Nancy made the promise to look for a cure as she lay dying. She began the foundation two years after her sister’s death and two year before she too was diagnosed with the disease.
The book is filled with side stories such as the first documented case located in Egyptian papyri and Fanny Burney’s mastectomy. Oh, I cannot wait to read it!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Waiting for Teachers (copy)
Everybody is talking about it. You cannot turn on the news without hearing something about it. Oprah devoted an hour of her talk show schedule to it Monday. WKNO is playing comparable pieces on the situation in California. I have even seen scenes and heard interviews on the Jon Stewart show.I am talking about the heart-breaking documentary “Waiting for Superman.” The movie is set to air this weekend and it addresses America’s failing schools. The focus is in the District of Columbia school area where a strong reformer, Michelle Rhee, is shaking up the status quo for tenured teachers. She suggests that teachers’ pay be in direct correlation with student outcomes.
I applaud Rhee’s determination, but I refuse to be that negative about school education as a whole. Some of the most caring people I know are teachers with a passion for education. Even my parents are or have been teachers at some point in their careers. Teachers are good people.
After watching the movie, people will want to make a difference. Here are some book suggestions to get started.
Both stay at home moms and working mothers should properly prepare offspring for education. Talk to your child. Read to your child. Sing to your child. Statistics prove over-and-over that language is the key to a successful child. Try reading Growing a Reader from Birth: Your Child’s Path from Language to Literacy by Diane McGuinness or School Starts at Home: Simple Ways to make Learning Fun by Cheri Fuller.
New teachers pick up Jonathan Kozol’s Letters to a Young Teacher. Kozol has spent over 40 years as an educator in inner-city schools. He has also written over 11 books on the subject. In this, his latest, he reaches out to new and enthusiastic teachers with sound advice. One I use, never lie, admit when you do not know and go in search for the answer together.
The funniest people I know are also teachers. My mother could not wait to serve dinner and tell us “the funny” for the day. In The Art of Teaching, Jay Parini has written a very funny memoir of his life as a college instructor. Nuggets of wisdom fill the pages.
Finally, for teachers who need a little inspiration in the classroom, read The Essential 55: An Award-winning Educator’s Rules for Discovering the Successful Student in Every Child by Ron Clark. The last rule, 55, says be the best person you can be. Be a teacher!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Type Casted?!? (copy)
I must be in a rut. Lately, when people stop me to talk about a good book, they qualify the book as either right down my alley or something I wouldn’t want to read. Hey, a good book is a good book, but I have noticed the right-down-my-alley books are Southern genre, Mississippi authors or readable nonfiction. When did I get in this rut?
Looking back at last year’s work, I do favor these types of books. I steer away from self-help, romance and inspirational, but I thought I read a variety. In my mind it would be hard for anyone to recognize a pattern. Ha! I even had a co-worker say I never book talk self-help titles.
I have an unproven or unstudied theory about self help books. They appeal to the early 20s through middle 30s reader. The person who is looking for a relationship, tweaking a marriage, seeking a better career, going back to school, having a baby, saving money, etc. Those people who have come to the realization that they do not know it all and could use some sound advice.
I did read self-help books, but at some point I became the advisor. I would take what I read and spit it out as fact. Can you say annoying? Now, I go to self help when I have a specific problem. I read everything I can and then try to make a master plan to follow. I do not talk about the books read because I consider them personal.
Here is an example of my latest reads that you know nothing about: 4 Months to a 4-Hour Marathon by David Kuehls, Brain Training for Runners by Matt Fitzgerald, What I Talk about When I Talk about Running by Haruki Murakami, and Run Fast: How to Beat Your Best Time Every Time by Hal Higdon.
Okay, stop laughing those of you who have seen me run. Who am I kidding, right?!? Slugs lift up their back tails to wave at me as they pass by. I have to take a shower when done because moss has grown on my north side. Why, slow-motion action looks speedy alongside me.
I am no runner. At my 13 minute mile pace, I will be lucky to finish a marathon in 6 hours. I can dream though. I can pretend these books might make a difference. When the wind blows my hair back, I can imagine it is because of my speed. The pain I endure is from my athletic prowess and not old age.
So, now you know. The ruts I am stuck in are our Mississippi roads.
