Elephant and Piggie

Elephant and Piggie Series
Mo Willems
200--'s (still in process!)
Geisel Award (several)

How in the world have we managed to ignore these guys on our blog???? Megan told me of them a while ago, and we have read EVERY ONE multiple times (well, all the ones in our local library--they are still being published and not all have trickled down yet). We LOVE Elephant and Piggie around here. I must have written this post a thousand times mentally, but, since I can't seem to locate it on our blog, I must not have actually typed it up. Shame on me.

Elephant and Piggie are best friends along the lines of Frog and Toad. Truly, they represent one of the best literary friendships. Elephant is a boy (Gerald) and Piggie is a girl (Piggie), and their personalities are very distinct (and oh, so lovable).

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver is one of the most thought-provoking and enjoyable books I have ever read. In it, Kingsolver chronicles her family's move from the Southwest back to a family farm in Virginia. Their quest: to eat only local food for a year, growing most of it on their farm. A truly herculean task in some respects, but Kingsolver is the first to admit that their situation had some benefits that many don't have: an existing farm set smack in some of America's most fertile land, a family of four of which all can contribute, flexible work schedules outside of farm life (her husband is a professor and she is a writer), and some scientific background. Nonetheless, her story is inspiring and made me want to start homesteading!

Why is this book so inspiring? Part of it is surely the amazing talent Kingsolver has as a writer. Her writing is poetry to read; a narrative of her own experience thus becomes just as gripping as a made up character's in a novel. Her scientific background also helps; this book is full of helpful information and tidbits. Her husband, Steven Hopp, writes many insightful sidenotes throughout the text, offering interesting statistics and ways to work towards their goal for the average American. Finally, daughter Camille includes her own thoughts as a college-bound student: menus she creates, her reasons for becoming more and more vegetarian, and the like.

One of my favorite parts in the book is the section in which Hopp outlines some strategies for those of us shopping in the grocery store as we strive to get more local food onto our plates. I also made mental note of the tomato varieties discussed, was thankful I don't have to harvest my own turkeys, and am more eager than ever to continue gardening. I read this book for the first time a year ago, and we had a nice, small garden last summer. This year, I skimmed it again, planned a bigger garden, and have had a great time so far feeding bunnies (and being very thankful I don't depend on my garden for all my food).

A word of caution for this book: it makes homesteading look amazing--wonderful hard work. But, it's also full of evolutionary background and a bit of a liberal agenda in terms of political impact for all of our food choices. Yes, the information is excellent. Yes, we should be practicing good stewardship with our food, our growing practices, and the way we "produce" meat. However, we also need to make sure we get the full story before we jump the conventionally grown produce ship and head for our local farmer's market in an attempt to live off the land (ours or our neighbor's).

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

(Quick, name the poem from which the title of this post comes!)






What bibliophile has enough bookshelves for that glorious book collection? When we moved into our current house, I made note immediately that the upstairs hallway was wide enough to house a nice bookcase specifically for my children's book collection (after all, our first child was due 2 months later--what better thought to have on one's mind?). I said this rather pointedly to my wood-working-loving husband.

Three years (and 3 babies, massive home improvements, job switch, etc.) later, here it is!!!!!! I need hardly tell any of my fellow bibliophiles what an ecstatic moment occurs when a bare, naked, in-desperate-need-of-books bookcase lands in your hallway. To add to the bliss, I had already categorized the boxes of books still lingering in our attic for just such an occasion. 1 hour later, all interesting children's books were released from captivity and placed lovingly on the shelves awaiting precious children's hands, eyes, and ears. (sigh) Isn't it wonderful?









Here I must make an addendum to Megan's infinitely helpful home library organization system: if you have a large collection of picture books, you may find it necessary to do some size-organization as well as topic/theme/etc. I had my husband build a bookcase with varying shelf dimensions in order to better use the space; some of my picture books are quite tall, while others (such as the Beatrix Potter collection on the very top) are quite small.

I should also mention that I believe it's crucial to have books appropriate for little hands all over the house--within reach. We have a bottom shelf of a bookcase in the living room devoted to kids' books, a small bookcase in the play area full of books, and one in each child's room for his/her books. I think it's better to have a few different places which encourage reading than have all children's books neatly organized in one place. Remember, one of the best gifts we can give these little ones of ours is a love of reading! With that, I'll close with this picture of one my boys below--in the midst of a play room/dining room painting project in which all furniture had been moved to the center of the room and most of it drop-cloth-covered, here sat one of my little ones, contentedly pouring over each book his little hands could find. He didn't move for 20 minutes (this is a 14-month old!).

The Glass Castle

Truly fascinating book--I couldn't put it down. A memoir, The Glass Castle is about the author's life during childhood as she struggled with her siblings to survive poverty, a drunk and often absent father, a self-absorbed and neglectful mother, and a generally hostile world at large.

The voice throughout the book is what makes this book so worth reading. Written without rancor, TGC takes us through a young girl's own dawning realization of the reality of her life and her parents' roles in her struggles. At the beginning, she idolizes her parents; by the end of the book, she sees them for who they are, yet still seems to love them despite the fact that they could have turned their lives around so easily and at least provided food for their children.

The book has some earthy moments and some crude/vulgar language (when quoting the father), but it doesn't seem over the top or gratuitous given the scenes/reality being described. I'm curious as to whether the people reading this (clearly a lot since this is a bestseller) will take to heart the realization that poverty is still very much present in our world/country. Redemption comes in a manner at the end; it reminded me that Christ loves each and every one of his children even though we must also appear filthy, delusional, and unlovable.

Oprah's Book Club

This is an addendum to the post below; I've done a bit of looking into the current Oprah's Book Club selection, and I was wrong to glibly categorize it as self-help. It appears to be Buddhist philosophy revamped for today's undiscerning reader. I hope Oprah isn't going that direction with her book club in general, but it does underscore the point that we must always be discerning readers--read what the national public reads (I frequently like to in part to have conversation topics with my neighbors), but be aware of who and what you're reading!!

I'm a member of a women's book club with other women from my church; we read the classics. For the months of April and May, we're tackling Anna Karenina. I overheard one of the women sheepishly confessing (or, rather, lamenting) to another that she could only find the recommended translation in an "Oprah's Book Club" copy.

I, for one, am very thankful for Oprah's Book Club and have no problem with publishers rushing new editions to major book stores with her book club emblem on the front cover. Why am I in favor of her club? While not every book on her list is one I might recommend (Midwives comes to mind), she has picked some outstanding books, both classics and modern fiction, over the last ten years. Cry, the Beloved Country, The Poisonwood Bible, Anna Karenina, and The Good Earth are each good examples of books which have been superbly written, are extremely thought-provoking, and were a pleasure to read. Others, like Night, aren't so "pleasurable" to read, but well worth reading for what they have to say. Oprah is bringing back to the public's attention some great books and people are reading again. Who can complain about that? Why feel guilty that we're helping support such a lofty endeavor? Anyone who will encourage the mass public to at least consider reading Anna Karenina should be applauded. She even has a link on her book club web page with ideas for starting your own book club.

When you see the Oprah's Book Club emblem or other nation-wide popular "book club" choices, don't immediately write them off. As I mentioned before, I do not recommend all of Oprah's choices (her current one is in the self-help category and I likely won't even pick it up; I'm also not a fan of Toni Morrison who appears on her list several times), but I do encourage you to consider some of her choices, perhaps even picking a few up to read. It's a good insight into what the nation is reading and might introduce you to a classic you thought would be boring (The Good Earth is a book I read simply because her emblem was on it--it was a great book!).

Sue Monk Kidd: The Secret Life of Bees

Currently drinking Twinings' Earl Gray--good if you get a fresh box.

Sue Monk Kidd is a relatively new Southern writer. The Secret Life of Bees (Bees) (2002) is her first work of fiction, a work that has been a tremendous success by all secular accounts. On the New York Times Bestseller list for more than 2 years, it has been chosen by countless book clubs.

Kidd herself sums up the novel with the word "Homecoming," although many other reviews usually describe this novel as a coming of age story. In fact, Kidd's web page describes it as such: "powerful story of coming-of- age, race-relations, the ability of love to transform our lives and the often unacknowledged longing for the universal feminine divine, the novel tells the story of a fourteen year old Lily, who runs away with her black housekeeper in 1964 in South Carolina and the sanctuary they both find in the home of three eccentric beekeeping sisters."

There is no doubt that Kidd has genuine talent; my favorite feature, if you will, of the novel is Kidd's amazing characterization of Lily, Rosaleen (her black housekeeper and surrogate mother), Zach (a young black boy), and the three bee-keeping sisters (August, May, and June). I found myself continuing to read long after the plot ceased being appealing simply because I was enjoying the time with these quirky characters. As is typical of much Southern fiction, SLB centers on the relationships the protagonist has with these characters and her father, T. Ray; there is racial tension and reconciliation, intergenerational angst, and spiritual connection between characters.

The plot of Bees felt a bit contrived for me, like Kidd was trying too hard. If Kidd wasn't such a talented author on the characterization and setting front, then the book would fall flat. On the surface, it's rather typical of most coming-of-age stories: girl's mother dies when she's little, father is mean, she runs away and "finds herself" in a new group of people/vocation. The end.

What Kidd does, though, that makes this plot jump off the predictability diving board and land, with a large splash, into the pool of "out there" is her emphasis on the divine feminine. The motif of the Black Madonna is present almost from the beginning of the novel; a picture of her is one of Lily's only mementos of her late mother. The quest to find this Black Madonna, hoping it will be a clue to her mother's life, is partly what drives Lily throughout the book. The bee keepers are the source of the picture as they put this picture on all the labels of the honey they make. But it's more than that: they have a black figurehead from a ship that they worship (no other word for it, really), they have a group called the Daughters of Mary, and they talk about Mary all the time. The idea of the divine feminine is so pervasive in this book, it's inescapable. It's a little too much for me to really enjoy the book. What I found so especially disturbing was the conclusion at the end of the book.

(Spoiler Alert)
I'm glad Kidd refused the temptation to make things end perfectly for Lily; her mother was indeed a sinner like the rest of us. Lily herself has committed a large atrocity/crime. Yet, for August to tell Lily that the answer lies within herself (within Lily) was the nail in the coffin for this book for me. The answer does not lie in ourselves. We, in and of ourselves, are not strong enough to meet all of life's demands. Kidd goes one step further from this typical sentiment and claims that Mary is in each of us, helping us to live better.

Kidd has written other books, most notably in its connection to the philosophy and theology behind Bees, is her earlier nonfiction work, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. I'll end with the summary of this book as written on her website: "With the exceptional storytelling skills that have helped make her name, the acclaimed author ... tells her very personal story of the fear, anger, healing, and freedom she experienced on the path toward the wholeness that women have lost within patriarchal faith traditions. From a jarring encounter with sexism in a suburban drugstore, to monastery retreats and to rituals in the caves of Crete, she reveals a new level of feminine spiritual consciousness for all women— one that retains a meaningful connection with the “deep song of Christianity,” embraces the sacredness of ordinary women’s experience, and has the power to transform in the most positive ways every fundamental relationship in a woman’s life— her marriage, her career, and her religion."

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks

Currently drinking Ugandan tea which my parents brought back for me from a recent trip. mmmm

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks is a troubling book for me to review. Perhaps because I read it so close on the heels of Stepping Heavenward, the portrayal of the protagonist's struggle with her faith during a year of unimaginable struggle, trial, and loss left something to be desired.

YOW is a riveting, historical fictive account of a small English village during 1665-1666 that chooses to isolate itself in order to prevent spreading the Plague to neighboring cities and towns. (There really was such a town: Eyam.) The rector and his wife, along with Anna Frith, the protagonist, are the backbone of support, care, and faith for the other villagers as they quickly lose two thirds of their number. Brooks does an excellent job of keeping the suspense going throughout the book while giving the reader a feel for the slow pace of life a 17th century village might have.

During their struggle with the Plague, the villagers struggle profoundly with faith, superstition, ignorance, and loyalty to one another. Terrible things happen. Redemption is brought about. People live and die. But, here is where Brooks fails me as an author.... (the ending will be revealed in the next paragraph, so stop reading if you plan to read the book!)

Brooks is a secular author who has spent quite a bit of time as a foreign correspondent in the Middle East as well as much time researching this book in England. Therefore, it should have been no surprise to me that a book which has a strong feminist undercurrent should, in the end, place the protagonist in a setting that shows a female triumphing over her circumstances; I have no problems with that necessarily. That the rector is proven to be a complete hypocrite, and Anna ends up finding comfort and meaning in an Islamic community on the Mediterranean seemed to me to undermine so much of the struggle these people when through during a real time in history. I truly can't imagine watching my husband and two children die, my friends die, my neighbors turn against each other, and finally have to run for my life. Yet, I'd like to think I would face these trials more as Katy (Stepping Heavenward) did, turning to Christ in all of them, than as Anna did--left only holding out a vague hope of something better at the end. Up until the last couple of chapters, this book was a terrific read, very educational as well as enjoyable. Brooks gave in to modern society's preference for faiths other than the true one and its interest in strong female characters that can raise children without a loving husband.