Story Time Party With M.G. King
With summer in full gear, story time at Half Price Books in Humble has become a force to be reckoned with, but mostly because M.G. King is quite possibly one of the coolest ladies I’ve ever met and she was kind enough to do a reading and book signing in place of the usual kid’s story time on Wednesday.
There was a fun little song, a reading of Librarian on the Roof! and literary activities like making your very own poof book. King brought colored paper, markers, and all the knowledge, skill, and friendliness to manage excited children while chatting to their parents and signing copies of her book. Everyone had loads of fun, and got to walk away with the experience of having met a real live author of a book no kid can forget.
Make your own poof book! http://www.vickiblackwell.com/makingbooks/poofbook.htm
Read my review of Librarian on the Roof! https://anakalianwhims.wordpress.com/2012/03/13/weekly-low-down-on-kids-books-31312/
A Weekend With Murderers
Its been an interesting, though depressing weekend of books, while I was away from the computer. Since my modem had burned up and we were patiently waiting for a new one, I decided to sit down and have as much as a reading marathon as possible with a toddler in my midst. So between a whole lot of picture and board books, I was on a mission to tick some loitering TBRs off my end table…
…Starting with Native Son by Richard Wright. I didn’t make it. I had to stop after book one, about a hundred pages into the novel. The book seriously stressed me out, and although I plan to finish it one day, I think it will take me many months of sitting down with twenty or so pages at a time. I don’t think I would have made it reading it as a student for class, so I’m thankful it was never part of my own required reading. Keep in mind, I tried to sit down with this book immediately after finishing Of Mice and Men
. Clearly too much needless killing for one sitting.
So I set it aside, but moved onto to the worst choice ever: Albert Camus’ The Stranger was next on the list, the first time in my life not reading the back cover has bit me in the butt. So I go from one fear killing to another fear killing dipped in racism and onto just plain killing with no rhyme or reason. Good thing The Stranger is only about 150 pages long, or it would have been cast aside with Bigger.
All these “helpless” humans killing other humans. I got really irritated, more than a little sad, and switched over to some nonfiction where I polished the weekend off with a whole lot of Astrology and Astronomy books for a little research project. As someone who personally knows someone in prison for two accounts of attempted murder, I just have a hard time buying into the helpless unintentional killings, unless we’re talking self defense or the mentally disabled (like in Of Mice and Men).
What have you been reading?
The Planets
Title: The Planets
Author: Dava Sobel
I’m impressed with how accessible Dava Sobel has made Astronomy. As a New York Times journalist, she brings all the important information to the table. As a writer, she’s a story teller of the highest degree. Beautiful, fluid, and full of all the ancient romance of the stars, The Planets is full of history, poetry, and all the most relevant of scientific discoveries. Sobel’s work is not only a pleasurable read, but the dream-find for a homeschooling mom intent on classically educating her child.
With Sobel’s newspaper background, the book is very readable; a proficient sixth grader shouldn’t have a problem with it. I plan to use this for my child’s eleven year old Astronomy lessons, along with a middle grade level study of Ancient History, as Sobel has filled the book with quotes from or about many of the Greats. “Pythagoras believed the cosmic order obeyed the same mathematical rules and proportions as the tones on the musical scale,” (pg. 163.) introduces an entire chapter dedicated to man’s fascination with the planets and how that has been celebrated through the centuries through the art of music.
Always presented to me in school as a pitiable underdog, small and petite, Pluto was my favorite planet. Even more so when it was first threatened by the idea of being stripped of its planetary status, I became indignant, an uneducated supporter of allowing it keep its rank in the sky and in our textbooks. Like an older sibling protecting a small child, I felt like it was a personal attack to say Pluto wasn’t really a planet. I was angered that someone had decided to take back all I had been taught and strip this little planet of a description I thought it had earned. After reading Sobel’s explanation of Pluto’s discovery, history and status and then a chapter on Uranus, I think I may be sold on the reasons why Pluto title as the 9th planet is threatened and that Uranus is actually my new favorite. So heavily tied to the literary works of Shakespeare in name and attitude with such a unique history, my new knowledge of Uranus now pales my previous love for Pluto – a childish emotion of elementary proportions, tied to an association with the Disney dog.
I have other books by Sobel lurking around in my library, and I can’t wait to dive into those when I’ve exhausted this particular topic. I look forward to reading Longitude and see if she attacks the subject of geography with the same fervor as she did Astronomy.
I have mountains of notebooks and journals, both dated and topical. They keep me sane, keep me studying, and help me process. This is a wonderful post about something that is very dear to me.
Agatha, Eggs, and Book Hounds
In my pursuit to read all things Agatha Christie, I have been reading through her entire Crime Collection. It’s a 23 month program that I set up for myself. I love reading things in lists this way, but the only draw back is in getting an awful lot of Christie at once. In doing that, I found one I didn’t care for a lot faster than I would otherwise. Three Act Tragedy just didn’t do it for me. It wasn’t as exciting, it wasn’t a page-turner. I’m not sure if its my mood, if this one just isn’t my style, or if its Egg. Yes, I have a problem with Egg, and in a bit of stream of consciousness, I will tell you why.
I’m not sure if I don’t like her character or if I’m just hung up on her name. I just know for certain that I can’t go along with the idea of naming a character Egg. It really bothers me. The only remotely forgivable occasion is in True Blood, where there is a rather tall gentleman by the name of Eggs. 1. He’s a dude. 2. There’s an ‘S’ which gives me the impression that maybe its supposed to be his last name. 3. You can call anyone almost anything in the South, but Europeans should be a little more respectable in my opinion. I can say that, I’m from Texas.
I read “Egg” and am immediately filled with images and smells:
* green lights, The Great Gatsby, and eggs for neighborhoods
* lots of colors, Easter egg hunts, odors from the yard due to un-found treasures (yuck)
* yummy smells, too…. breakfast. omelette. Hobo omelette are the best.
* the feel of a cold egg cracking under my fingertips, I like the sound of the crack too
Good or bad, none of these sounds, smells, and recollections should be brought to mind from a charismatic female character in a murder mystery. How funny, too, that she even says “That is a bit catastrophic. To go through life as a Mugg -” in reference to another’s name. Whereas I think, more catastrophic than to be called “Egg”? While pondering this, Sir Charles interrupts my thoughts with some chatter about the murder and then says, “Oh, damn, why do I beat around the bush?” At that, my middle school humor kicks in and I begin to giggle as Egg is being spoken to by a man who used the word ‘beat.’ I immediately feel the need to make a Quiche, or a cheesecake, rather than solve a murder. Although Poirot is the best sleuth around and it is said that he has an egg-shaped head.
Oh Hercule Poirot! “That man! Is he back in England?” “Yes.” “Why has he come back?” “Why does a dog go hunting?” – 3rd Act, Part 10
Although, naming a character Sir Bartholemew Strange nearly makes up for this little irritation about the Egg. In fact, it would be a great name for a dog. I would call him Bartie for short, and I think perhaps he should be a hound of some kind. I have a beagle named Geoffrey Chaucer, perhaps Bartie could be the Walker Hound of my future. I’d love to have a Jack Russell named Agatha. Mmmm, no, not a Jack Russell. I’d like Agatha to be a Fox Hound…
A Piece of Steinbeck
Title: Of Mice and Men
Author: John Steinbeck
Publisher: Penguin
Length: 103 pages
A friend asked me if Of Mice and Men was a good representation of Steinbeck’s work. Not having read it, but being a die hard fan of East of Eden and The Grapes of Wrath
, I decided to sit down for an afternoon read.
Of Mice and Men was written as an experiment, so says the inside jacket of my beautiful Penguin Centennial Edition. Steinbeck himself called it, “a kind of playable novel, written in novel form but so scened and set that it can be played as it stands.” Its true, it is a playable novel. And as complete as a lone standing novella, it could also be a brief chapter in a full length Steinbeck saga that I’ve grown to expect.
My favorites by Steinbeck are long sweeping story lines of depression, written with perfection, where Of Mice and Men is a short stint featuring a relationship between two men as one struggles with the lines between gentility and brute force. When I think of Steinbeck, its for his onion layers of generational secrets, sins, and passions. If given this in hand written form, not knowing what it was from, I think I would guess Steinbeck, but ask where the rest of the book is, thinking this was a bit of back story to something much more epic. I wouldn’t call this a short representation of his work though, its so unique and different. It feels more like a small little corner of his brain, a little tiny piece of the puzzle that makes up Steinbeck’s genius.
For starters, there’s much more dialogue than I usually see in Steinbeck’s pieces, true to the form of a play. There are far less propelling descriptions that push you along a timeline, instead of equating my reading experience to a landscape often seen in those large European antiquarian homes and museums, I feel like I’m looking at one scene or portrait on an average sized canvas. I wasn’t left with a deep sense of having been, step for step, in the same place the characters had walked, like I did with East of Eden. I closed the book saddened at Lennie’s plight, but did not feel the overwhelming gush of reality being poured upon me by a starving man seeking nourishment from the breast milk of a woman who had just delivered a stillborn baby in a barn.
Steinbeck succeeded in his play-novel experiment, and its quite good – I feel like I’m watching a play. But I don’t feel like I’m nose deep in story, reluctant to come up for air even to eat, or drink, or use the restroom; which is usually the case when I read Steinbeck. Who do I recommend Of Mice and Men for? Anyone attempting to guide their reading habits from one genre to another. If you usually read novels and want to try plays, pick this up as a stepping stone. If you are a theatre buff, actor, or director who usually reads plays or screenplays and are in the mood to get your literature on, Of Mice and Men would be a good starting point. It would be a great crossover piece for younger literature students as they are led from one unit to the next, and I think I may use it as such for my daughter, an afternoon project. Although, I wouldn’t spend more time than a afternoon on it, and I will probably never read it myself again.
Dear David Foster Wallace…
I just found another reason to pick up your book that has been staring at me from the W’s on my bookcase.











