& MotherReader
105 Ways to Give a Book

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

ABC Storytime: R is for...

Um, I don't really have an introduction, but a Happy St. Patrick's Day wish seems in order.

The Letter R

Book: Duck? Rabbit! by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, or Rabbit Ears, by Amber Stewart

Fingerplay: “Five Little Rabbits”
Five little rabbits sitting by the door.
One hopped away, and then there were four.

Four little rabbits moved under a tree.
One hopped away, and then there were three.

Three little rabbits drinking morning dew.
One hopped away, and then there were two.

Two little rabbits resting in the sun.
One hopped away, and then there was one.

One little rabbit isn’t any fun.
He hopped away to find the others,
and then there were none.
Book: Rattletrap Car, by Phyllis Root

Book: Rain Drop Splash, by Alvin Tresselt

Song: “Rain, Rain Go Away”
Rain, rain, go away.
Come again another day.
Little Rosa wants to play.
Rain, rain go away. (Repeat with other names.)
Book: Ruby the Copy Cat, by Peggy Rathman or Ruby’s Wish, by Shirin Yim

Song: “Ram Sam Sam”
A ram sam sam
A ram sam sam
Guli, guli, guli, guli, guli
Ram sam sam...
Book: Naked Mole Rat Gets Dressed, by Mo Willems

Alternate Books: Miss Rumphius, by Barbara Cooney; Hello, Robots, by Bob Staake; How to Hide a Crocodile and Other Reptiles, by Ruth Heller

Links to material on Amazon.com contained within this post may be affiliate links for the Amazon Associates program, for which this site may receive a referral fee.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Alice in Wonderland

FatherReader here. While I share a degree of MotherReader’s enthusiasm for children’s literature — and have been thrilled to make a few friends in the kidlit world — my bailiwick is more in the area of film (as both a viewer and a successful independent filmmaker, so long as you aren’t too strict in defining “successful”). In any case, it’s rare that I feel I have any particular insight to offer here (and after today’s entry, you may very well concur). But she thought this might be an opportunity to provide a little crossover commentary — specifically, some thoughts on Tim Burton’s latest, Alice in Wonderland.

If ever there were a pair of creative minds well suited to work in conjunction, they would be Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton. That’s not to say that Burton’s film is by any stretch a “faithful adaptation” of Carroll’s work, but more that Burton’s sensibility is uniquely appropriate to interpreting Carroll’s off-kilter imaginings. The film (which is positioned as more a continuation of the Alice stories than a direct adaptation) does fall prey to some of the same flaws that have afflicted earlier works — treating Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There as though they were a single narrative, combining the Queen of Hearts and the Red Queen into an amalgam character, and so on. In fact, one could argue that it owes more to past adaptations than to the original books — though from a filmmaker’s perspective, there may be more to be gained by tapping into our collective memory of the stories than by adhering closely to the stories themselves. Which goes to illustrate the overriding truth of filmmaking (and the bane of literary purists everywhere): For good or ill, filmmaking is a director’s medium, not a writer’s.

There are those who love Burton’s style, and those who abhor it, though for the most part Burton doesn’t often polarize audiences; many find his films enjoyable but are neither enthused nor repulsed. (MR probably falls somewhere in the middle of the latter group — though she was clear that she had no desire to see Alice; while she enjoys the occasional weird-ass picture book, she’s a little more conventional in her movie choices.) I lean toward the fan side of the equation, but several of his films I find merely entertaining. I thought Beetlejuice and Edward Scissorhands were brilliant, but Charlie and the Chocolate Factory somewhat less inspiring. I loved his Batman films at the time of their release (there are no doubt blackmail-worthy photos floating around somewhere), but find they don’t quite hold up over time. (We will studiously avoid any mention Planet of the Apes, which bears no sign of being a Tim Burton film at all.)

But Burton is certainly a visionary — in the sense that all of his films (with the exception of the film-that-shall-not-be-mentioned) bear his indelible imprint. And in this regard, Carroll’s work would seem to be an ideal jumping-off point for Burton’s particular brand of lunacy. In fact, one can imagine Burton embracing the maxim “We’re all mad here” as his own personal mantra. So the question — from a filmmaker’s perspective — becomes not whether this outing brings Carroll’s vision to the screen, but whether the inspiration of Carroll’s writing serves Burton’s vision. (That said, this audience being a more literarily-minded group, I certainly welcome your thoughts and counterarguments in the comments.)

In that regard, I would answer affirmatively, arguing that Alice stands along with Edward Scissorhands as absolutely emblematic of Burton’s oeuvre. While it may not be possible to translate Carroll’s linguistic brilliance into any other medium, Burton uses that language to at least emulate the feeling of being in a dream world — where things make a vague sort of sense, but remain just bizarre enough to be confusing. Criticisms that Burton takes what shouldn’t make sense and provides too coherent a narrative (providing very clear objectives for the characters, interweaving the “Jabberwocky” poem more explicitly into the main story arc, and the like) may have some merit, but I for one found myself suitably disoriented throughout.

Unlike writing (editorial assistance aside), filmmaking is a collaborative medium, though in this case the director’s hand remains evident across the board. The casting — in terms of both the selection of appropriate actors and the consistent direction of performances — is pure Burton. Johnny Depp is delightfully batty as the Mad Hatter, Mia Wasikowska provides an ideal blend of youthful innocence and post-adolescent defiance to Alice, and Helena Bonham-Carter positively steals the show as the Red Queen/Queen of Hearts — and that’s saying nothing about the stellar turns by Stephen Fry and Alan Rickman as the Cheshire Cat and Blue Caterpillar respectively (of all the performances, I felt only Anne Hathaway’s as the White Queen fell a bit flat). The exaggerated design — while certainly paying homage to John Tenniel’s classic illustration (and Disney’s animated work) — is straight out of Burton’s gloriously askew imagination. And the story — aforementioned coherence notwithstanding — very effectively illustrates Burton’s themes on balancing responsibility and individual choice (and the benefits of a healthy dose of madness).

In all, I found the film eminently watchable, and imbued with far greater intelligence — in no small part thanks to the genius of the source material — than most popular entertainment. The 3D effects are not merely a gimmick (though there are certainly a few “3D shot” moments), but serve the larger goal of immersing the viewer in the dream-like world of Wonderland (or “Underland,” as it’s more properly dubbed in the film). And though it does take substantial liberties with Carroll’s stories, it hardly appears to desecrate the spirit of the originals.

But let’s not leave my word as the final determination — chime in and add your own thoughts. If we get a particularly lively conversation out of it, I may tackle Guy Richie’s more explicitly revisionist Sherlock Holmes.

Links to material on Amazon.com contained within this post may be affiliate links for the Amazon Associates program, for which this site may receive a referral fee.

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Sunday, March 14, 2010

Gotta Keep Reading

I’ve been seeing this video all over, but hadn’t slowed down to actually watch it. But this morning I did, and it actually made me a little bit teary. Not because it’s sad or even that explicitly moving, but because these kids will remember making this video for a long, long time, and I’m inspired that there are teachers and principals who would take the time to create an experience that just might make a difference.

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Friday, March 12, 2010

Reading Is Boring (Sometimes)

Sometimes reading to your kids is boring. There, I said it. We like the idea of the day ending with all of the annoyances forgotten as we cuddle on the sofa with our precious children, sharing our favorite books as they listen with adoring expressions on their well-scrubbed faces. But I know the reality is just as often pushing the laundry aside to make room for you and two kids who are still arguing over who got the biggest slice of cake — which apparently one child rubbed in her hair — while handing you the one picture book you can’t stand as the cat vomits a hairball at your feet.

Charming, huh?

There are many motherly myths that make us feel like we’re Doing It Wrong. And the ones that produce the most guilt are the ones that tell us how we should feel. Maybe you’ve heard how you bond with your baby at birth? It’s true that you might surrender to a warm rush of instant love and pure joy. Or you might be like me at my first child’s birth, wondering what you are going to do with squalling mini-person now. (Love came later.)

Certainly nursing your child is a magical experience, connecting you to the spirit of womanhood through all time. That is, assuming that you figure out the latching-on thing and you don’t mind leaking at inopportune moments and you don’t get infections or chafing. And even then you spend this most beautiful experience watching Oprah, or get so blasé that you open the door to the UPS man because you are NOT going to miss out on your Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD’s just because Little Miss Sucks-a-Lot won’t FINISH UP ALREADY!

And while I was moved by how much my girls looked like angels when they slept, it was generally not a respect for all that was holy that caused me to thank God. It was more likely relief that I wasn’t going to miss yet another episode of Survivor.

So — reading to your kids. It can be a wonderful experience, a chance to slow down in the busy day and share something together. I dare say that often you will find it a nice thing to do. My point isn’t to tell you that reading to your kids is boring, but instead to give you permission to sometimes feel like reading to your kids is boring. Because when we as mothers set ourselves up to a certain expectation to how something Should Be, we can fail to work with How It Is.

Think of reading to your child less as a bonding experience and more like dinner. It could be prime rib or Hamburger Helper, but either way it’s important to eat. At reading time, the stars may align to make it a cozy tradition, or the day’s drudgery may make it another chore. And that’s okay.

While my goal was simply to validate less-than-blissful feelings about reading time, it would be cruel to leave without a little advice on banishing the boredom. Think about varying the routine in terms of the five Ws — Who, What, Where, When, and Why.

Who — If you can switch off on the reading with Dad or an older sister, go for it. You can even have a reading time where Junior reads to the dog as you let your mind turn to thoughts of George Clooney. Ah, Clooney.

What — Just because your child wants to read the same book again doesn’t mean that you have to do so. On days when you are more patient, you’ll be happy to chug through Little Sparkly Fairy Princess again. But reserve the right to say, “Not today, honey.” Look for good book recommendations or ask at the library to add some fresh books to your mix. You’ll be happier for it, I promise.

Where — If you always read by your child’s bedside or on the couch, take it outside. Or stop at the library or bookstore and read there. Change your surroundings just because you can.

When — I am a personal fan of bedtime reading because in my unorganized world, it was hard to forget to do it. The pajamas tended to tip me off. But if you’ve always reached your limit at the end of the day, make reading time in the morning or after lunch or before nap or whenever works for you. Here’s a thought: You can even change it according to what works that day, week, month or year.

Why — Well, this whole post has been about the why. You can read to your child because it is a beautiful way to connect while instilling a valuable skill. But on days when you’re not feeling it, you can still read to your child because it’s just a good thing to do. I’m sure that all the “perfect moms” would agree.

Check out more on today’s Share a Story — Shape a Future topic, Reading for the Next Generation, with Jen Robinson.

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Thursday, March 11, 2010

Booklights, Share a Story

Share a Story — Shape a Future continues today with a classics theme, which I’m taking over to Booklights with three classic classics. Come over and pick your favorite — if you can. And check out the linky goodness with Old Favorites, New Classics.

Keeping it short today so I can work on my own Share a Story post for tomorrow, “Reading is Boring (Sometimes).” Plus I’ve got to get outside and experience SPRING! I’m just going to stand on my lawn and watch that last bit of snow melt. I may bring champagne.

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Wednesday, March 10, 2010

ABC Storytime: Q is for...

Back with ABC Storytime. As always, feel free to name your favorite letter Q books in the comments.

The Letter Q

Book: Little Quack, by Lauren Thompson

Song: “Six Little Ducks”
Six little ducks that I once knew,
Fat ones, skinny ones, fair ones too.

Chorus: But the one little duck
with a feather in his back,
He led the others with a
Quack, quack, quack.
Quack, quack, quack!
Quack, quack, quack!
He led the others with a
Quack, quack, quack!

Down to the water they did go.
Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble to and fro.
(Chorus)

Home from the water they did come,
Wibble, wobble, wibble, wobble, ho-hum-hum.
(Chorus)

(BTW, the tune is here.)
Book: Stella, Queen of the Snow, by Marie-Loise Gay, or Sally Jean, the Bicycle Queen, by Cari Best

Nursery Rhyme: “The Queen of Hearts”
The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer’s day;
The Knave of Hearts,
He stole the tarts,
And took them clean away
Book: Quiet! by Paul Bright

Song: “What Begins with Q?”
What begins with Q?
What begins with Q?
We all know.
We’ll tell you so.
What begins with Q?

Quack begins with Q…

Queen begins with Q…

Quiet begins with Q...

(This is song to the tune of “Farmer in the Dell” and can be used for any letter — but is probably never needed more than when you get to Q.)
Book: QPootle5, by Nick Butterworth, or Quick as a Cricket, by Audrey Wood

Alternate Books: I don’t know. You tell me.

Links to material on Amazon.com contained within this post may be affiliate links for the Amazon Associates program, for which this site may receive a referral fee.

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Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Calling Dad

Thanks for the responses to yesterday’s question about calling your mother — and I’d still love to hear from you if you didn’t get a chance to comment. I’m finding the answers very interesting, with my favorite one coming in via Facebook: “Often enough to keep her happy, but infrequently enough to keep me sane.”

A few people mentioned calling or talking to their fathers, and it made we wonder if it is an entirely different thing with dads. See, while I feel obligated to talk to my mother every week and apologize if I don’t, I never have the same sense about my father. They are divorced, so the calls are separate entities and completely different. I might talk to Dad a couple times a week for ten minutes, or maybe a thirty-minute conversation on a weekend. It’s happened that we haven’t talked for a couple of weeks and will spend an hour on the phone catching up. He calls me more, but since I can’t always talk, I call him back much of the time. It’s a very organic thing, without any guilt, obligation, or specific time investment. How about for you?

Like yesterday, I’m keeping the reading light here so that you can give your attention to the wonders of the Share a Story — Shape a Future blog tour. And while my questions may not be book-related, think of what they may add as writing prompts and character development.

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