By: Shelf-employed,
on 12/7/2015
Each year, hundreds of new holiday books are printed. Many are trite, forced, or pedantic—but not these gems. Here are my five new favorites. Readjoice!
By: shelf-employed,
on 4/26/2012
By: shelf-employed,
on 9/30/2011
At least once in a lifetime, we should be totally awed by the natural world – not by its destructive power, which so many have seen this year in the form of floods, hurricanes and fires; but by its beauty.
For me, it was a frigid late autumn evening about eight years ago. It was the time of the annual Leonid meteor showers, and excellent visibility was in the forecast. Excellent yes, but also in the wee hours of the morning on a bitterly cold night. My husband agreed to be the advance scout. We would prepare everything in advance – thermoses of hot coffee and cocoa, blankets, sleeping bags, and warm outerwear. My husband would head up to the beach at 2am. If the meteor showers were visible, he would come back to wake the kids and me.
He came back and hurried us all to the beach where we parked our pickup truck facing west and sat in the bed of the truck gazing eastward. The meteor showers were not just visible. They were spectacular! At least one meteor every second – zooming across the sky, long tails following behind. As earth hurtled through the meteor storm for hours, we sat transfixed – unable to keep our eyes from the sky. It was raining stars, and it was unspeakably beautiful! The cold and darkness added to the atmosphere of quiet awe. Only a few hardy souls and families willing to spend the night on a Northeastern beach in November shared it. When the sun began to rise in the east, we turned and faced the darker, western horizon to get a last look at what we knew was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
happened to be on the beach when a migrating flock of monarchs crossed the lake and settled for the night. Their arrival first seemed spooky – then magical. Being surrounded by these golden-orange butterflies and seeing a tree totally covered with fluttering, shimmering monarchs was unforgettable.Together, Markle and Wu perfectly capture that magical, dusky twilight on Lake Erie. Wu’s dreamy pastel illustrations in brisk autumnal hues fill out the wide, double-spread pages. The story is told through the voice of a young girl, heading home with her dog and her mother. The text rests lightly on the page, arranged in verses that add depth and measure to the vibrant images,
An explosionThough it contains an "Author’s Note," "Traveling Monarchs," "Books," "Websites," and a migration map, this is not a nonfiction book; however, it deserves to be included in scientific discussion with children because it captures what so many books do not – the sense of wonder about the natural world, the sense of wonder that has driven man to push past the limits of our collective knowledge.
of golden orange bits
fills the sunlight
streaming between branches.
Wow! I exclaim. They’re not leaves.
They’re butterflies.
Monarch butterflies, Mom says.
There must be hundreds – thousands.
The tree looks like it is in motion.
All the butterflies are slowing fanning their wings.
We are in an orange cloud.
By: Becky Laney,
on 9/1/2009
Gerrold, David. 2002. The Martian Child. Tor.
Toward the end of the meeting, the caseworker remarked, "Oh--and one more thing. Dennis thinks he's a Martian."
Why did I pick up The Martian Child? It was part impulse. It was on display in the 'popular book' section*. I don't know what I saw first: John Cusack's face, the word Martian, or those lovely little words "winner of the Hugo and Nebula Awards." But talk about an irresistible combination for me.
What is it about? It's about two people finding each other. Two people making a connection--a connection that is "against the odds" according to some. You see, David is a single guy (a gay man) who wants to adopt a child, a son. And Dennis is a young boy who has been in the foster care system for almost all of his life, and, well, even his caseworkers don't believe in him, don't like him. They're doing their jobs. But they don't like him, don't care about him, he's just a file to them. A thick file. A problem on their hands. But when David sees his picture, he feels something. His instinct tells him this is the one, this is my son. When David realizes he's the only one that cares about what happens to this little boy, well, let's just say that it's something worth reading about.
Did I enjoy this one? Yes. I read it in one afternoon. I couldn't put it down. It was an emotional story--it had its ups and downs. But from the very first page I cared. I loved the writing. It was incredible. David Gerrold knows how to tell a compelling story.
So do I recommend it? Yes! I really think this one has a lot to offer readers.
There isn't any way to stop telling stories. Storytelling is the fundamental act of communication. It's a major part of being human.
Every time a person communicates, he tells a little story--what happened to the last piece of chocolate cake, why the dog is wearing your sister's hat, and why the UFO's haven't returned Elvis yet. Big stories, little stories. Why I was late for work, why I was speeding, and how this phone number got into my wallet. I can explain everything. I can tell a story.
The stories we tell--that's us explaining how we think the world works. Once we speak it, once we say it aloud, that makes it real for us--and real for everyone else who hears it too. When we tell a story, we invite people to visit our reality. We invite them to move in. Our stories are the reality we live in.
That's very powerful.
Because we can choose what stories we want to tell--we can choose the stories we want to live.
Here's my story--
What a great experience that was! Thanks for sharing, and for joining STEM Friday this week!
I love this book. It's got lots of good science in it... even if it isn't strictly a nonfiction book. Sandra Markle is a wonderful writer.