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Eleven years ago I made my first visit to Cambodia and fell in love. I was in Phnom Penh, which in 1997 was a city of hope, and the mood of joyous optimism that pervaded its streets was irresistible. The man who was my motorcycle taxi driver during my visit was a man whose smile touched his eyes but did not erase the omnipresent sadness that lived in them. His parents had been killed during the years of Pol Pot when he was just entering his teens, and he refused to accompany me when I entered the grounds of Tuol Sleng, the school that had been turned into a torture chamber , because that is the place that had made him an orphan. He took care of his younger brother as best as he could and they both survived.

He took me to his house in the rural outskirts of the city so I could meet his wife, his two small sons, and his baby daughter. His children all gleamed with the love that he gave them, healthy and happy. At one point during my time with them, my host tapped the side of a large and bulging burlap bag. “Rice,” he said proudly, “We eat it every day.”

When I read and reread The Clay Marble, it brings this memory so strongly to mind that I often find that I am in tears. Minfong Ho evokes the hunger of that dreadful time–for food, for family, for community, for the ability to know that a harvest of rice will soon be reaped, for the safety to sleep in one’s own house with safe and happy children close by.

Obviously I have emotional baggage that I bring with me to this book–would it have the same impact if I had not fallen in love with Cambodia? What about you? Does this book move you or is does it feel contrived? Is it an issue in search of a story or does it bring the refugee experience to life? Please let us all know what you think…

Fleeing the horror that has turned her home in Cambodia into a battleground filled with death and starvation, twelve-year-old Dara and what is left of her family cross the border into neighboring Thailand and the safety of Nong Chan, a camp for Cambodian refugees. Quickly they become absorbed into the life of “a vast barren field teeming with refugees” which “had the feel of our village during the years of peace before the fighting started.”
This is a place with enough food for all, where Dara’s family joins forces with the family of Jantu, a girl who becomes Dara’s friend. Jantu has the gift of magic hands; she is able to turn clay and leftover scraps into toys and she makes Dara a clay marble that contains the magic and power that are badly needed in these troubled times. Even more magical and powerful are the bags of rice seeds that are given to the refugees and carry the promise of future crops in their abandoned fields in Cambodia. Dara and Jantu’s families dream of feeding themselves once again in Cambodia, but even in the safety of the refugee camp, war interferes brutally with their plans.
Written by Minfong Ho, who worked as a volunteer in refugee camps along the Thai-Cambodian border in 1980, this book has become a classic since it appeared in 1991. Dara and Jantu, with their determination and courage, are characters who reach beyond borders and age barriers to show readers what it means to become refugees and how hope can bring people back to their homes. Please join us in reading and discussing The Clay Marble in July.

I'm deciding how to use the present I bought for myself.




Should I wear the FROG side when I'm writing a rough draft?

And the TOAD side when I'm revising?

Because I want
the Frog and Toad parts of me


to be friends.

Do you think of the composing/editing sides of yourself as different personalities?

Do you have tricks for calling out one side or the other?

And hey! Did you know that if you flip those letters around, you can get FOOD and TROD, too? Who are they?

My Frog and Toad bracelet (and the photos) came from Etsy, and from the imaginative mind of Bookshelves of Doom.