Our neighborhood book club met this week to party. We ate homemade toffee, we drank lots of wine, we left our children with our husbands, and we didn't even pretend to discuss a book.
I don't think I'm alone in attending a book club primarily for purposes of socialization with grown-ups (and a night out of the house!). As one of my neighbors once said, a person could sell filing cabinets and we would come. I am, of course, a reader by nature, and I love a good debate (ask my husband). However, I am also a very slow reader with severely limited time and am easily put off by books that seem too depressing, too showoffy, too unbelievable, too trite... in other words, much of what seems to be popular book club fare.
The idea that books bind us, though, is an irresistable one to me. It is a theme to which I return over and over in my own writing. A few weeks ago I met a little girl at church named Lavender and couldn't wait to press a copy of
Love, Ruby Lavender into her hands. I've loaned and re-loaned
All-of-A-Kind Family and
The Westing Game and the complete Bobbsey Twins dozens of times, and the thought of sharing these books with my daughter someday literally gives me shivers.
I'm supposed to be blogging today about
five books that have made me who I am. Well, anyone who has even a passing acquaintance with me probably already knows. The way my mom passes down family recipes, I pass along reading recommendations.
Books are a way to keep connections alive, through time, through space, through generations. A dear friend walked several blocks in Manhattan on Friday with 51 pounds (!) of books on her back and in hand so that she could send this bounty to my avid-reader father. These novels belonged to her beloved husband, Roger Newman, who died earlier this year. When the first batch of books arrived (yes, there were more), my husband and I both found ourselves rather reverently touching the pages that touched Rog's hands and, of course, his heart. Rog was a writer, a man of eminently good taste, keen mind, and huge heart. We were privileged to know him, and we are honored to be the keepers of these treasured mementos.
--Jeanne Marie
xxx
Howdy and Happy Poetry Friday! There's a teeny tiny
Writing Workout and a not-so-teeny poem below!
A recent
School Library Journal article has inspired
TeachingAuthors to chat with you about the books that have most influenced us.
That article introduced us to
Bookprints. Run by Scholastic, its full name is You Are What You Read; it's sort of a FaceBook for readers.
Upon registering, I discovered a few glitches to Bookprints' wonderful universe. I couldn't figure out how to sign on as an author (help, anyone?) and, on strict orders of my financial advisor (aka my husband) I never give out my birth year.
So I signed in with a different birth year. I must say, I look remarkably young for a 109-year-old.
: ^ )The first thing it asks you (after rudely inquiring about your birth year) is to list the five most influential books in your life. Here is my list:
A Coney Island of the Mind by Lawrence FerlinghettiAs I wrote when listing my
five favorite poetry books, an older teen gave this one to me on my 13th birthday. I was thrilled she thought I would like these poems. I memorized the poem,
DOG and choreographed a dance about it for my modern dance class...I even wore my dog's collar! (Of course, those were the days I painted a flower on my cheek each morning to match my outfit...and painted
Twiggy lashes on my eyes.)
Enjoy all of the delicious books we've been talking about this summer—and if you buy them, please BUY LOCAL. Find your local bookseller here.The folks in these stores are paperback promoters, kidlit campaigners, poetry proponents, school supporters, chapbook champions and author advocates.They hand sell, They create community. They read and recommend. They carry crazy amounts of inventory so
My older brother gave me All-of-a-Kind Family when I was nine for Christmas. It came in a boxed set of books. Having never seen a boxed set of books before, I was so delighted. For years after that, my sister would hide buttons for me whenever I dusted, just like they did in that story! Come to think of it, I could use some buttons hid around the house today to motivate me to dust once more! :)
Growing up I did not share books with best friends, but my kids do. Their closest friends are great readers and they pass around their favorites and talk about them together, so they really are bound together by books. It gives me great hope for the future.
Caroline McAlister
www.carolinemcalister.com