MotherReader

Okay, so those weren’t real prizes, but maybe they gave you some ideas. Something you’d like to contribute. It doesn’t have to be an escort to the YA prom (which would be freakin’ choice), but don’t worry about your offering being too small. What I’d like to do is pull together several things into prize baskets instead of giving away individual items. So don’t be concerned if someone would really want your signed book, or original sketch, or book themed knitted scarf, or new Lord of the Rings CD. I am honestly contributing a paper bead necklace — which is made from magazines, so it’s reading-related — and maybe earrings. Maybe you can offer a limited editing or web consultation. Many YA books have lots of characters, I mean one could be named Eisha, right?

If you have something, scroll down my blogroll to my Email MotherReader! button, and send me a line. (I’m not sure why there’s an exclamation point there, but it sure makes it sounds like an exciting thing to do.) Still taking sign-ups at the original post.

Now I’ve got to get my eight-year-old girl ready for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. We’re going to have a blast at the library today. I think I’ll let her shelve the books. Dewey Decimal system, you have now met your match in a working second grader.

The Second Annual 48 Hour Book Challenge is really coming together nicely with a pretty long list of participants. Keep signing up at the original post. I want to make this fun for everyone, so along with achievement prizes there will be some stuff given out to random participants.

Prizes may include:

• Either John Green will take you to the next year’s YA Prom or Hank Green will devote his Brotherhood 2.0 video to the topic of your choice, after conferring with you by phone. It depends on who you have on your “list.”


• Grace Lin, having used the names of all her family members in books, will name her next character after you. There will also be a doll. And cupcakes.


• Roger, of Read Roger, will talk about your win on his blog using the words “stoked” and “mega-tastic.” If you clock in more than thirty hours or fifteen books, he will also use either the phrase “true dat” or “that’s how I roll.”


• Mo Willems will send something from this picture. It will probably be a signed Pigeon mobile, but it could be an Emmy. You never know.


• Betsy will send the original Winnie the Pooh to your home for a week-long visit, with a travel journal and possible police escort.

Okay, so none of these has actually been confirmed. Actually, I kind of made them up. But if you have a prize that you would like to contribute to the contest, send me an email. My Email MotherReader! button is at the very end of my blogroll. I am not particularly good at anything tangible, though I do make a mean paper bead necklace I’d be willing to chip in.

Let me also reiterate that the goal is to read for as much of the 48 hours as you can. Don’t feel that you can’t participate because you have something else you have to do during the weekend. You can do your 48 hours starting Friday and ending Sunday or starting Saturday and ending Monday morning, allowing for some flexibility. If you have something Saturday afternoon — like me — you can take a break and come back to the contest. You can always make up the time by not sleeping that night. I mean, really, how long has it been since you pulled an all-nighter?

Wow! I totally love this! I saw it at Bookseller Chick and Big A, little a. It combines two of my favorite things: lovely photographs and personal information.



On an unrelated topic, I’m so excited about all the bloggers signing up for the 48 Hour Book Challenge. Keep on joining in. It will be lots of fun.

Let me reassure those who are worried about committing the entire 48 hours: breaks are allowed. You can’t start and stop your time, but you can do other things that you need to do. I will actually be taking a large chunk out of Saturday to take my Girl Scouts to a sing-along in Washington, D.C. Since the event is smack dab in the middle of the weekend, I can’t really plan around it. So I’ll read in the morning, do the thing, come back, read some more, and then read all day Sunday. I suspect most people will have to work around something, and that’s oooo-kay.

Spring is in the air (finally), which means it’s time to plan for the 48 Hour Book Challenge — that special contest that allows you to read guilt-free for as long as you can stand it! I’ve waffled between the first two weekends in June because both times have benefits and liabilities. But I finally decided that I’d rather not conflict with Book Expo in New York, and it would be fun to do a read-a-thon at the same time the NYC writers are doing a Write-A-Thon (even if theirs is for charity and ours is for fun only). And last of all, I couldn’t resist the idea of starting the Challenge on my birthday. So the chosen weekend is June 8–10, 2007.

Here are the basic guidelines to start. I am open to suggestions if you’ve got them, or ask me questions so I can establish a related rule. Here goes:

1. The weekend is June 8–10, 2007. Read and blog for any 48-hour period within the Friday-to-Monday-morning window. Start no sooner than 7:00 a.m. on Friday the eighth and end no later than 7:00 a.m. Monday. So, go from 7:00 p.m. Friday to 7:00 p.m. on Sunday... or maybe 7:00 a.m. Saturday to 7:00 a.m. Monday works better for you. But the 48 hours do need to be in a row.


2. The books should be about fifth-grade level and up. Adult books are fine, especially if any adult book bloggers want to play. If you are generally a picture book blogger, consider this a good time to get caught up on all those wonderful books you’ve been hearing about. No graphic novels. I’m not trying to discriminate, I’m just trying to make sure that the number of books and page counts mean the same thing to everyone.


3. It’s your call as to how much you want to put into it. If you want to skip sleep and showers to do this, go for it (but don’t stand next to me). If you want to be a bit more laid back, fine. But you have to put something into it or it’s not a challenge.


4. The length of the reviews are not an issue. You can write a sentence, paragraph, or a full-length review.


5. For promotion/solidarity purposes, let your readers know when you are starting the challenge with a specific entry on that day. When you write your final summary on Monday, let that be the last thing you write that day, so for one day, we’ll all be on the same page, so to speak.


6. Your final summary needs to clearly include the number of books read, the approximate hours you spent reading/reviewing, and any other comments you want to make on the experience. It needs to be posted no later than noon on Monday, June 11.


7. Sign up in today’s comments. You’re welcome to post the challenge on your site to catch the bloggers that come your way but don’t come mine. Point them to today’s post to sign up. On Friday, June 8, I’ll have a starting-line post where you can sign in to say you’re officially starting the challenge.

I’ll work on some prizes for most books read, most hours spent, and most pages read (if it isn’t the same winner as most books read). Last year I allowed an alternate, personal goal challenge, but this year the logistics of that might kill me. If you want to play along, but not really do the Challenge, that’s fine, but no prizes. I’ll have a 48 Hour Book Challenge Solidarity Post to list your personal weekend book challenges.

I’ll post the rules again as we get closer, to incorporate suggestions or to answer questions that have come up. So how many books do you think you could read if you devoted a weekend to the task? Ready to find out?

It’s been a tough week, an emotional week in more ways than one. Today, let me give you something light and fun and silly. For Poetry Friday, I feature my own haiku showcasing the visuals from my husband’s office last week. Hope you enjoy it.

Practical jokers
Turn cubicle into art.
Shiny, shiny art.

Enjoy the photos (click to enlarge).


(handiwork by Steve Hennessey and Kate Foley; photography by Kate Foley)

Two months ago, Grace Lin wrote about her artistic style, wondering whether she was being boring. At the time, I couldn’t think of an appropriate comment, other than, “Nooooooooooo!” which isn’t so much a comment as a long series of one vowel. But the thought sat in my brain quietly simmering, and I’m finally ready to voice a slightly more articulate opinion. I hope.

(At one point, I had planned on posting my comments at the same time as her Edge of the Forest interview, but I guess my thoughts were still simmering. So cross-promotional opportunities suffer in favor of coherent argument. I can live with that.)

Michael Jordan. Greatest basketball player ever gets a been-there-done-that feeling and moves to baseball. He does all right, I guess, but leaves lots of disappointed fans in his wake, not to mention his team. What did that move accomplish? Maybe he got the chance to test himself, but at what expense?

So if you’re great at what you’re doing, why change? If you still love what you’re doing, and your fans love what you’re doing, why change?

Is Grace Lin the Michael Jordan of children’s literature? Well, I don’t want to give that honor to anyone (no, not even him), because it isn’t a matter of being the absolute best. The world of children’s literature accommodates many different styles of writing and illustration. But that world would be poorer without the joyful, brightly colored, multi-patterned illustrations of Grace Lin. Thankfully, she has kept that style alive in her new book, Lissy’s Friends.

Lissy is the new girl at school and feels very lonely. Too shy to approach anyone, Lissy makes an origami swan. To her surprise, it comes to life and flies next to her! She goes home happy and tells her mom that she did make a friend today. In this case, literally. Lissy then makes lots of origami friends and takes them everywhere. One day, while riding the merry-go-round, the paper animals go flying out into the wind. Lissy is upset, but just then another girl asks her how to make the swan. Lissy shows her and in doing so, makes a real-life friend.

At first read, I wasn’t sure about the flying swan and the life-size origami animals. But the second time through, I saw it clearly as Lissy’s imagination that made them come to life and look huge. I liked that Lissy’s way to make friends begins with doing what she likes to do and being herself. The theme of Lissy’s Asian-American heritage is not the source of conflict or isolation, but it is her special knowledge of origami that helps her break through her shyness and connect with the people around her.

Lissy’s Friends is exactly what I would expect from Grace Lin, and I don’t mean that in a boring way. I like knowing that I can count on her to provide a solid, sweet, lovely, enjoyable book. Don’t go changing.

(Oh, and there’s a doll! I didn’t mention the doll. It totally fits with my Twenty-One Ways to Give a Book campaign, so I have to mention the Groovy Girl-looking doll. Lin’s been merchandised!)

Is there a coziness in the kid-lit blog world that affects reviewing? Probably.

Is there a chumminess in the kid-lit publishing world that affects reviewing? Probably.

We have blog tours, shout-outs, and round-ups. They have publisher lunches, book launches, and award ceremonies. We know some authors. They know some authors. We might get free books. They definitely get free books. We don’t get paid. They do. Other than the fact that we do this for free, what’s the difference that would make bloggers more likely to be soft on authors?

Roger suggests that here we’re all one community, and it’s tricky to knock someone you know. Well, maybe that’s true.

I’ll take that chance.

Because what is gained here outweighs the hazards of mixing authors and reviewers in one big blog party. Maybe sometimes an author gets a softer review than deserved, but I can live with that for the opportunity to have a book dialogue that involves librarians, teachers, authors, mothers, editors, poets, and book lovers. We don’t just have book reviews, we have an opening for discussion. It’s a new paradigm that even involves a type of cross-promotion and targeted marketing.

In a way, it all comes down to marketing. Publishers’ lunches, book launches, blog tours, author interviews, ads in Horn Book, ALA exhibits, book signings, book awards, etc. Down at the base, we’re all promoting what we love, whether that’s our magazine, our new book, our own blog, or even just reading in general. Maybe even just being in love with our own voice. Talk about influence. I would say that we are influenced by all of the above, including our own angle.

For more influence, look to the baggage we bring to any review. Do I like cats or dogs? Do I hate abstract imagery? Does it matter if I have a good relationship with my parents or my kids? If I love the South? Or dislike the books where the mother is dead? The influence of a free book or an interview seems silly when you look at all the ways we are influenced before we’ve even seen the book.

Here, I want to embrace the subjective review. Know me, know my kind of books. Like me, like my kind of books. My blog peeps are the closest I get to having a friend to share her favorite titles. In fact, I don’t want to do book reviewing. I want to do book sharing. I want to be able to say, “Hey this is what I thought about this book. Me, with my two school-age children and my love of summer and corn. Me, with my propensity for humor and aversion to china rabbits. Me, with my disorganized house and my reformed hippie parents. This is what I thought about this book. What about you?”

Now, how cozy is that?

While I may disagree with most of Virginia politically, I love my state. I must. It would be far easier to cross the river and live in Maryland, which is more aligned with my politics, than to advocate for the statehood of Northern Virginia. But I can’t do it.

I love that our state history is our nation’s history. Jamestown. Williamsburg. Mount Vernon. It means that an entire year of my children’s lives will be spend on learning something useful. As a child, my husband learned about the significance of cow patties for heating and building in the great state of Nebraska. Or something like that.

I love that Virginia has seasons, and that the seasons lean warmer than the seasons in, say, Nebraska. We usually have a little bit of snow, but not a lot. April is usually short-sleeve weather, and the sweatshirts don’t come out until October. Pool season starts in May and ends in September, and I’m not talking about your teeth-chattering, “shrinkage”-inducing, cold-water pool season either.

I love that when you drive through Virginia, you see a lot of green. There are no billboards along state highways (except around Norfolk, and I’m not sure why), and for large stretches of the drive on I-95, it seems like there is nothing at all. Other than the weekend traffic (sometimes) and the slow drivers in the left lane (all too often), it’s a pretty pleasant drive across the state.

I love that Virginia has mountains and beaches, urban areas and farmland, battlefields and water parks. I love that my kids can get in-state tuition at a number of top-notch colleges. William and Mary. University of Virginia. Virginia Tech.

Virginia Tech.

I don’t even know what to say. This school is so much a part of my vernacular. I’ve grown up and lived here tossing around that university name. I know kids who went there in the past. I know families who are looking at it for their college-bound students. I know people who graduated from there.

The shooter was from my Northern Virginia. His parents live in a town in the western suburbs. The towns being mentioned in the news are places I know. Centreville. Chantilly. They’re not meant to be towns with national attention.

It’s not Virginia’s tragedy. It’s a nation’s tragedy. I understand that. But like our nation’s history — starting in Jamestown just weeks shy of four hundred years ago — we’ll have to share.

I survived another kids’ party. I chalk it up to my unique recipe for success, summed up in this pithy phrase: Advil before, alcohol after. Some people mix these two up, and while it can make for a more interesting party and is generally the more accepted strategy for an adult party, for a kids’ party the proper order is critical. There may also be legalities involved, but let’s not go there.

As far as I’m concerned, my masterpiece of the Rock ’N Roll party was the cake featuring Peeps on paper electric guitars. (This one’s for you, Lisa Yee!) Ridiculously simple and cheap (cheep?), the rockin’ pink Peeps also worked well with the color theme the party had going on. The eight partygoers played Guitar Hero and Dance Dance Revolution, made CD suncatchers and Rockin’ In/Rockin’ Out door hangers, played party games, and had makeup sessions. I sent them home with inflatable electric guitars and their crafts. Then I hit the alcohol. Hard. (C’mon. I’m kidding.)

I have always done home parties for my girls, even thought the trend in Northern Virginia (Motto: It should be a state!) is for ice skating/public pool/circus/laser tag parties. Well, once we went to an indoor playground at the mall, when my daughter kept changing which of her kindergarten friends were invited. For three dollars a kid, we asked the whole class and half of them came. Oh, and once we used a local playground and shelter, though I still did the theme and activities.

We’ve had different themes through the years. Let me see... Blues Clues, Puppy Party, Almost-Sleepover, Barbie, Art Attack, Crafty Kids, Cats and Kittens, and a Make-a-Movie Party. The movie party was my favorite, because we had the guests do a reader’s theater play while we filmed it. Then Bill edited it together and gave it to the kids later. Anyway, I try to keep costs down, and fun up. It’s not hard, but it takes a little preparation and a little help. My broad tips:

1. Overplan. Have more than enough things to do, so you’re not stuck with nothing to do. I keep a few quick games on hand for transitions — freeze dance, hot potato, even word games.


2. Mix it up. Have different types of activities, to appeal to different kids and to pace the party. A couple of easy crafts, a couple of moving games, a couple of quieter games.


3. Prep your child. Remind her how to handle gifts of things she already has. Remind her about greeting and saying goodbye to guests. Remind her about saying, “Thank you.” Eventually, it will sink in. With my youngest at eight, I’m still waiting, but I’m sure it will happen.


4. Keep kids the focus. Don’t entertain adults when you should be focused on the kids. I’ll sometimes have a few adults stay, but they know they are there to help. (When the kids were younger or when the adults were all our friends, it was hard to get them to leave. As the kids get older, the parents are less likely to stay anyway.)


5. Make it simple. Crafts shouldn’t involve lots of steps or specific instructions. Games shouldn’t be hard to understand. Decorations don’t need to be fancy.


6. Keep them busy. You can plan for some free time in the party, especially if the kids can run around outside, but don’t let the party turn wild or it will be hard to bring it back under control.


7. Prepare for the shy kids. Since some kids get shy in parties, I’ll have a quiet, anytime activity to do. A box of beads with string is perfect.


8. Have a present plan. Some people skip this altogether to avoid any issues, but I think kids like to give their presents in person. Since kids can argue over the present opening, I say right away how it works. The birthday girl sits on the couch and one person sits by her and gives the gift. Usually we go alphabetically, but we’ve also used games to decide whose turn it is.


9. Have a departure plan. Party endings are hard, which is where the goody bag comes in. Give it out as they leave to open at home.


10. Reward yourself. When you know that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel — or a Corona after the piñata — things just go better. Trust me.

For those of you looking for additional tips, ideas, and a multitude of themes, here’s a book that I’ve taken advantage of: The Penny Whistle Birthday Party Book. So plan away. Just make sure you’ve got both your Advil and your alcohol on hand. (If preferred, a soothing bath can be substituted for the alcohol, but I'll swear by the Advil.)

An original fib (as attributed to Greg at Gotta Book)

The
Edge
Grace Lin
Interview
Who did it? you ask.
MotherReader, naturally.

I was going to write about Grace Lin’s upcoming picture book Lissy’s Friends today, but Poetry Friday and the Vonnegut news is throwing off my stride. Plus, I’ve got to come up with a whole Rock and Roll birthday party by Sunday, which is giving me a bit of stress. I’ve got to get off the computer shortly and go in search of four more inflatable guitars. Yes, really.

Besides my lovely original poem, I wanted to mention the poetry display I did at my library. I made a sign saying “Pick a Poem.” All around the display pyramid are cut-outs of flowers attached to stems with a line of a poem written on it. I put some plastic flowers among the books on display as well. Awaiting their new reader are my favorite recent titles including:

• Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich — So very funny.
• Big, Bad, and a Little Bit Scary — Scary animals in fun poems.
• There’s a Flower at the Tip of My Nose Smelling Me — Very sweet, one-poem book.
• Behold the Bold Umbrellaphant — Wacky poetry from Prelutsky.
  I Saw Your Face — “Celebration of the black diaspora.”
• Poems to Dream Together/poemas Para Sonar Juntos — English/Spanish
• Fold Me a Poem — Poetry and origami.

And origami brings us back to Lissy’s Friends, which I promise to tell you about on Monday.

Kurt Vonnegut has died at the age of 84. The Washington Post article is here. Wikipedia entry about Mr. Vonnegut here.

I have long been a Kurt Vonnegut fan, having read most of his books in my pre-kid twenties. His books are interesting, stimulating, and often amusing. Before I turned over a working third of my brain to playdatestantrumsnightmaresdaycare... breathe ...carpoolsballetclassGirlScoutsattentionissuesdramacamp, Vonnegut challenged my developing intellect. His books are monumental in the course of American Literature and significant in my own reading life.

As it turns out, he thought a lot of me as well. Actually not me specifically, but my kind, my people. This quote won’t be new to many of you. I have a copy of it on the wall in front of my desk where I can see it every day that I work.

And on the subject of burning books: I want to congratulate librarians, not famous for their physical strength or their powerful political connections or their great wealth, who, all over this country, have staunchly resisted anti-democratic bullies who have tried to remove certain books from their shelves, and have refused to reveal to thought police the names of persons who have checked out those titles.

So the America I loved still exists, if not in the White House or the Supreme Court or the Senate or the House of Representatives or the media. The America I love still exists at the front desks of our public libraries.

— From “I Love You Madame Librarian” or Man Without a Country

I missed the chance to name him as the author with whom I would share a glass of wine. Darn it. But truly it isn’t me, the person today, who would have imbibed freely with this genius. It was the younger me who in naiveté would have been ironically less awed and more confident. Or the older me, world-wise, who could have also been less awed and more confident. Today’s me will drink a glass of wine tonight, and think about courage in writing against the grain, courage in standing up for what you believe, and courage in living a cogitative life. God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut.

My kids are kind, smart, funny, lovely, and polite (generally). But they are not helpful around the house. Like, at all. I know that this is a common problem, but I feel like other parents have a better handle on it. I haven’t done a great job training them to clean up their own messes, much less do the laundry. I am certainly no example for tidy living, as they shift piles of papers on the table to eat their lunch. But when they drop their coats on the floor where they stand or leave the Barbie paraphernalia scattered on the floor that I just cleaned up, a little part of my brain explodes.

Enter the book Sophie Hartley On Strike, by Stephanie Greene.

Sophie complains that she is stuck with the chores when her teenage brother heads to a game and her sister sleeps in late. Sophie’s mother, tired of taking care of all of the household, decides to make a job list for everybody. Thad, Nora, and Sophie are supposed to rotate the chores among themselves. John, at six, gets his own chores, like picking up dead bugs or escorting live ones outside. Baby Maura is excused from helping. The family squabbles and argues, and eventually the girls go on strike saying that the boys aren’t doing their fair share.

The story doesn’t break any hugely inventive ground, but the family dynamics and Sophie’s interactions with her friends are realistic and amusing. Sophie’s not as much a “character” as some of the girls we’ve been seeing these days in kids’ lit — Junie B., Judy Moody, Clementine — which works well in this book because she seems just like every kid.

I believe the reader is supposed to align with Sophie, but I kinda feel for the mom. Especially when you consider this passage:

“Oh, I think we’re all a little tired of my yelling, don’t you? ...After all,” their mother went on, “it doesn’t work, does it? I just say the same things over and over again until I’m sick of the sound of my own voice. No one pays any attention!”

Ohmigod, how many times have I made that speech? I was very hopeful in reading this book that I would find a solution to my my own household chore problem, but the ending doesn’t really go anywhere. They all decide that the list is too restrictive, but that everyone should help out more. Yeah. Good luck with that. Still, a fun and good book for early elementary school readers.

Standing Against the Wind, by Traci L. Jones, isn’t about plot, it’s about characters — even if the characters seem a bit cookie-cutter. Nice girl in tough circumstances. Rough boy with a tender heart. No-good mom. But it’s still an interesting book about struggling to make things happen.

Patrice is left with her aunt when her mother is sent to jail. The aunt takes advantage of Patrice by having her do all the chores and take care of her niece and nephew, but Patrice does it because she feels bad about her aunt having to take her in. Patrice is a quiet girl from Georgia, and the rough urban area is hard on her. She is teased about her “puffy” hair that she never has time to fix, and her studious ways. She should ask her sister, the master hairdo queen, to do it for her, but Patrice can’t count on her sister. Her grandmother, who used to care for her, is now in a nursing home, and her mother’s in jail. Her father’s totally out of the picture. What she has going for her is good grades, and she hopes those grades will be her chance to get a scholarship to an African-American boarding school.

She attracts the attention of a popular boy in school, Monty, when he asks her to tutor his brother. As she works with his brother, Patrice and Monty build up an unlikely friendship, and help each other.

I like the language in the book, which felt authentic, but not overdone. I felt like I was listening in to real conversations. Here is an exchange between Patrice and her sister about Monty’s mother:

“I don’t really know. There were only six there: Monty, Michael, three other boys, and a little girl, Mia?” answered Patrice. “Why? Do you know his mom?”

“Yeah, her trifing butt is always up in the salon getting some ghetto hairstyle from Termaine, the hairstyling queen of tackiness,” said Cherise. “I don’t think any of them kids got the same daddy. Plus, Miss Deborah is forever in the club or pregnant. She be bringing all these different men up in the shop, getting them to pay for her hair or nails. Old men, too. Ugh. Then she got the nerve to come in the shop every now and then asking us stylists to lend her money for food. Hell, she always got money when she want to get a new weave or them tacky finger waves. She’s too pitiful.”

I will say that so much of this book reads like a fourth- or fifth-grade book, but the sexual harassment — and almost assault — that Patrice suffers later in the story does make it more for Young Adult. I didn’t realize it when I read it, but Standing Against the Wind won the 2006 Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe Award for New Talent.

What Would MacGyver Do? True Stories of Improvised Genius in Everyday Life, by Brendan Vaughan, is the perfect bathroom book. What? It is. Each story is short, light, and vaguely interesting.

It’s funny that the Amazon reviews are so extreme. (“Horribly Misleading!” “Smart and Fun!”) People loved it or hated it. But I think that it is a matter of what the reader was expecting. A few of the stories are cool. Many of the stories would be hard to call true MacGyver thinking, though some definitely fit the bill. The subtitle is far more honest about the content of the book.

I particularly liked “Sic Transit Rodentia,” which was not really a MacGyver tale, but is a well-written, funny story of man versus mouse.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“We got a mouse.”

His face went white, and he withdrew the book before I could write anything. He clicked on his walkie-talkie and spoke quietly into it.

The super materialized in seconds. I explained the situations, and he responded in a whisper. The building hadn’t had any mice in years, he said. Years. But he’d take care of it. In the meantime — and he practically passed his hand over my face to complete the Jedi mind trick — I didn’t see any mouse.

I also liked the stories of fixing the clutch with a knitting needle, using a sock to brew coffee, and making a bong out of a potato. What? It was interesting.

(Thanks to Emily Reads for pointing the book out.)

After the basket search, the egg hunt, and the Easter egg dyeing, I had the girls paint wooden rabbits. I had them put old T-shirts over their dresses. I covered the table with newspaper. I set up the paint and bunnies in the middle of the table. Yet with all these preparations, not one, but both of my school-aged children managed to drop paint-laden brushes on the carpet. Unbelievable.

And a pretty good analogy for my past week.

I had made all the preparations for Spring Break with my kids. I was going to catch up on some reviews and read some newish blogs I’ve been meaning to explore. I was going to call some friends I don’t always get to see. I was going to clean up the house that I’ve been neglecting. So what did I do with my week? No, really. I’m asking. What did I do with my week? Because I can’t figure it out. As it turns out I managed to drop both my blogging and my housework. Unbelievable.

I thought that if I didn’t spend so much time online I could get more work done at home. Instead, I was so sluggish it took me five times as long to accomplish any one chore. I think that I get more energy from reading, writing, and being engaged to actually tackle the stuff in my life. Staying home from work and staying offline for the most part, I was craving interaction. I let in a door-to-door salesman, for Pete’s sake. But that’s another story.

Anyway, I’m back in business, such as it is. Thanks to everyone who made suggestions for nonfiction, middle-school books for boys. I’ve got a lot to work with now, and I’m very pleased. Tomorrow starts my usual hectic schedule of work, Girl Scouts, homework, parenting, party-planning, and yes, blogging. And I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Looking for suggestions for good, newish, nonfiction books for eighth-grade boys. Keep in mind that in this context “good” means “enjoyable.” And “enjoyable” means that an eighth-grade boy might actually read it without being assigned it in class, and a woman twice that boy’s age might be able to get through it without yawning. I am going to booktalk in the middle school in June, and I have a good list of fiction, but no nonfiction. No skateboarding books.

Last Friday I featured the book Reaching for Sun, a lovely book in verse about a girl with cerebral palsy. Today I feature an interview with the author, Tracie Vaughn Zimmer. She’s on blog tour this week, having visited with Jo Knowles on Monday. She’s stopping by to take part in the world-known MotherReader WhenWhereWhoWhyWhatHow Interview.

---

When did you start writing?

I’ve kept a journal since the 5th grade. When I visit schools I read aloud from my earliest journal to prove that even young abysmal writers can end up being authors.

Where do you do your best thinking?

In the bathtub or behind the wheel. I think it busies my monkey mind and hushes my evil internal editor (at least temporarily).

Who inspires you personally and/or professionally?

My kids inspire me to be playful with words and to get in touch with that girl smeared with creek mud that I used to be.

Why did you need to write this book?

I needed to honor the pluck, grace and vulnerabilities of my students who had disabilities. I believe they deserve their own stories too.

How does Reaching for Sun reflect your own life experiences?

I was very close to my granny’s and I spent most of my childhood out of doors. I often felt on the outside of things looking in, but I’m beginning to think we all feel that way.

What’s next for you?

I just sold a new novel to Bloomsbury (in prose!) and now I’m ready to jump into some poetry head first. I’ve got lots of ideas swirling right now for a new collection and it will be fun to decide which ones to pursue.

---

If you want to learn more about Tracie and her wonderful book, check out an interview from her biggest fan and supporter, Little Willow, who told me and others that we had to read this book. Tracie also has her own blog and a website that offers teacher guides and mini-lessons on more than two hundred books. Tomorrow she’ll chat with Cynthia Lord, author of the Newbery Honor book Rules.

Lately I’ve reserved Sundays to highlight blog posts that I’ve noticed during the week. But today, I’m just going to mention one. Because honestly, I can’t think of any others after turning my brain to mush watching hours of American Idol while folding umpteen loads of laundry. Did you know that you could actually watch so many episodes in a row that you could make yourself a little sick to your stomach? Neither did I.

Anyway, today Robin Brande really came through for me as she recounted her feeling of being overwhelmed by the mundane (like cleaning) because of time spent blogging. It’s a great conversation in the comments, and I hope other bloggers will stop by and share our little addiction. (Hi. I’m Pam. I’ve been blogging for a year now, and I may have a problem. Hi, Pam!)

But this was the second time Robin made me Think this week (twice in one week!). Lately, she’s been using Friday to ask readers how they took care of themselves during the week. Her way of being nice to herself reminded me of a post I did a long time ago, so I thought I would repost it. Enjoy, Robin and others:

---

Sometimes you just know that it isn’t working out. Sure, there was an initial attraction, but then... nothing. You’re just bored. Little irritations become big issues. “Who uses the word paradigm anyway?” You fight to stay invested. It may get better. It may be worth all the struggles in the end. But maybe you’re just not in that place now, for something light or something serious or something different. You know you need to make room in your life for something new, but it feels so wrong.

It’s okay to say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” when you’re dumping a book.

You can dump a decent book if it just doesn’t fit you, doesn’t engage you, doesn’t interest you, doesn’t make you want to keep reading. There are too many fish in the sea — or books on the shelves, as it were — to waste time on the wrong one. Even if it’s just the wrong book for you, for now.

I was not always this harsh, this cold. I would read the worst book to the very end, but I would be resentful. I wasn’t enjoying myself, or worse, wasn’t reading at all, stifled with guilt over the book I was avoiding. I had to change. I still find it difficult to let go, but it is getting easier.

Not too long ago I helped a friend get out of a bad book relationship. With a young child, she has limited time to read and was strugging with a book of short stories. We talked about it, and I told her it was time to move on. She took my advice and later confessed what a pleasure it was to finally remove the bookmark from the pages. The relief is like seeing your favorite contestant in the bottom two of American Idol and then she’s sent back to the bench and she’s safe for another week. Or something like that.

I hate working on Saturdays, because I hate leaving my family home while I work. Makes me bitter.

I hate indoor pools, because they are noisy and the smell of chlorine makes me crazy.

And today I get to do both of those things one right after the other for one big ball of hate.

The only thing making the day tolerable is wearing my new I’M A NOUN! shirt — to work even, because what were they going to say? The other thing that brought a small smile to my face was the headline of this article:

Chocolate Jesus show canceled

The way it’s written makes it sounds like Chocolate Jesus is a band. Actually, that would make a great band name! The AP headline was slightly rearranged and thus didn’t capitalize the word chocolate. Not as funny.

Word order. It matters.

This poem is from Tracie Vaughn Zimmer’s book Reaching for Sun.

choked by kudzu

There’s this vine
called kudzu
someone brought over from
Japan,
trying to make
here
look more like
there.

Thing is,
that vine goes
crazy in this climate,
blanketing whole forests.
No sunlight
or even fresh air
can get under the umbrella
of its leaves
so things can breathe
and grow.

The way Mom and I don’t talk
out what happened
grows between us
until the air
feels
choked
like
those
trees.

As you drive south through Virginia, you see where the kudzu has taken over patches of trees along the highway, so I felt a connection to this particular poem in this book of verses. I also really like the poem “Poppies,” but Little Willow had used it before for Poetry Friday, so I picked something new.

I read Reaching for Sun while my daughter took her ballet class, and while I enjoyed it, I felt that I had not honored the book somehow by reading it while occasionally giving my daughter the listen-to-your-teacher glare. So today I sat outside in the sun, to read it surrounded by the daffodils, the crocuses, and that yellow flowering bush... thing. And if you can, that’s the way you want to read this book, with beauty all around you and beauty on the pages in front of you.

Josie has celebral palsy and struggles with her desires for friends and independence. She is isolated in school where she is either ignored or teased. She hates the painful and embarrassing sessions of occupational therapy. While her mother and grandmother are loving, she feels babied and restricted. She only feels valued unconditionally at the nursing home and is only at peace in the garden. Things begin to change for her as she finds a new friend and grows up, allowing her voice to be heard.

Two personal notes. One, I was excited to see the reference to Tidewater Community College, which is in my other home, Virginia Beach. Yeah, Greater Tidewater Area! Two, I tried to get in the mood for reading this book by weeding my little garden. I thought it would make a lovely post for me to make the connection between the book and my own forays in the fertile soil. But instead of having a spiritual experience preparing the garden and sprinkling the seeds that I received with the review copy of the book, I managed to turn up a termite infestation which gave me the willies for a solid half-hour. Chalk it up, again, to my irony-prone existence.

Chicken Spaghetti does today’s Poetry Friday round-up. Leave her a comment if you want your post included.

Guess whose birthday is coming up?

No, not Mo’s. (I missed it. Though my interview did post the very next day. Interesting.)

As it turns out, the Pigeon is celebrating his birthday on April 1st, and his gift totally rocks. He’s got a great new website! Fun for the whole family. Stop on by.

I love books about nannies, because these people don’t write nanny books to say how great and attentive the parents are. No, people write nanny books because the parents are awful — to the children and to the nanny — and to make some cash. So whenever I read one of these books, I feel instantly better about myself as a mother. At least I’m not as bad as that one, I can safely say.

I liked The Nanny Diaries. I highly recommend it as a fictionalized funny/sad story of a nanny’s Manhattan experience. I liked White House Nannies. Again, recommended as a nonfiction look at a nanny service operating in the power center of Washington, DC. I had high hopes for You’ll Never Nanny in This Town Again, by Suzanne Hansen, to cover the Hollywood version. Oh well.

Susie nannies for some important people, and she’s not afraid to name names. The lack of concern for the children’s privacy makes me uncomfortable, as the other books keep the identities under wraps. Susie is also a whiner, complaining and complaining about how she is treated, but never standing up for herself. She knew she was supposed to get a contract for her services, she didn’t, and it bit her in the butt. As she states many, many times throughout the book. She is very young and immature, and doesn’t do what she needs to do. I can understand the relationship of employer and employee, but all throughout the book I kept wishing for her to grow a spine and set some limits on the parents. While it seems the first nanny job was awful and they did take advantage of her, she didn’t help matters by being a doormat.

She learns some lessons from that experience as she moves on to nanny for Debra Winger and then Danny DeVito. They seem to have been good employers, though she finds things to complain about there too. Eventually she gives it up to — surprise! — write a book about the experience. Now that you’ve read a summary of her experience here, skip the book and read one of the other suggestions instead. Or tell me your favorite nanny book. (Is it the Melody Mayer series? You can tell me, because I read it too.)

Sometimes it amazes me that “Young Adult” includes books like Sold and 10 Things To Do Before You’re 16 (Caroline Plaisted).

One is entirely fluff. And up to now I thought I had read books that were teen-chick-lit fluffy, but now I realize that they actually had things like a plot, a storyline, character development, a point. 10 Things is just how two fifteen-year-old girls set out to change their lives one leg waxing at a time. It’s certainly not a harmful book. It is what it is. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

Now contrast that with one of the most harsh, most intense YA books that I have ever read: Sold, by Patricia McCormick.

This is the story of a thirteen-year-old girl who is sold by her father in Nepal to a brothel. The woman making the transaction walks her to a city, and then gives her to someone else to get to the city. Along the way there are several negotiations for her that Lakshmi doesn’t understand. she thinks she is going to the city to be a maid, and doesn’t know why she is going so very far. The travel and build-up goes to about halfway through the book, giving us a chance to get to know this girl before it all comes crashing down.

Lakshmi is imprisoned in the brothel, first by being beaten and drugged until she has to submit. Then she is held fast by the huge debt over her head — that she will never be allowed to repay — and the threat of violence. She watches the scenes of the other prostitutes play out before her and loses hope.

There are the tiniest bright spots. A friend who is kind to her. A son of a prostitute who teaches her some English. A tea salesman who gives her some tea. And eventually, an American who can offer her safety.

Sold is a grueling book. The verse format works well in capturing the cruelty and devastation that is a reality for many girls. I hesitate to even say this is a YA book rather than an adult book. Yes, the character is thirteen, but this isn’t a thirteen we know. It’s an amazing book that will blow you away.

Let me suggest, based on experience, that you not read it directly after any teen book that is either pink or features shoes on the cover. It’s just not a good idea.

As you may have read from my husband/editor’s post on Saturday, I took my girls to Virginia Beach for the weekend to see family. We spend a lot of time with my baby niece. In fact, we got to keep her with us at my mom’s house from Saturday noon up until this morning. She was delightful, especially with all of those helping hands to take care of her every need. I’ve said for years that I don’t want another baby, I want a neighbor with a baby, but this is even better.

Maybe you picked up on the “this morning” reference above and pieced together that I drove back to Northern Virginia (Motto: The Fifty-First State) today, and you would indeed be correct. I drove back and immediately went to a booktalking session in the afternoon. I feel like I know my booktalking stuff, but it never hurts to hear some new ideas — especially when the speaker is using the books from your county’s summer reading list.

I also came back to a Girl Scout emergency, whereby some mothers — or one — in my troop did not agree with the date I had picked for an overnight outing and wanted to take me to task on that decision. But now the mothers know what they’ll get from me when they question my decisions: a very long description of my entire decision-making process. I only wish that I could have added sketches and diagrams. Yeah, take that.

So after my three-hour drive (we shouldn’t talk too much about speed limits), a booktalking session, and a failed coup, I’m out of juice to review anything or read any blogs or really do more than hit the booze and hit it hard, but I’ve made a error and I can’t wait any longer to correct it.

I was tapped by Magpie Musing with a Thinking Blogger meme. I am touched that anyone would look at me in that way. My thanks. But as it turns out, two blogs have bestowed that honor upon me. I was also tagged by Book Nut and I was also very touched, and then hit a week of overwhelmedness (it’s probably a word) and let it slide.

I don’t know if I have to tag five blogs or what, but since the meme police are unlikely to come after me, I’m going with three. I decided to take the title of Thinking Blogger as literally as I could and only highlight the blogs that really make me think. I mean really, really.

• Original Content has been on my blogroll since I started because I find such interesting topics there. Gail does not always see things my way, but seeing a different view expands my understanding and I appreciate her for it. It also amuses me that she will hate all the leading personal fluff in this post, and therefore may never get to this part where I say how great she is.


• Oz and Ends was not on my blogroll for a long time. I didn’t have it on my blogroll because I would only go to the blog when I had plenty of time and mental energy to read it. I didn’t want to skim these great thoughts. After meeting the blogger at the kidlit drink night, I realized that I needed to get it on my blogroll to remind myself to read it because it always challenges me.


• Chasing Ray is not on my blogroll, but will have to be now. Someone is always mentioning something interesting Colleen is writing about and I go and read it and like it and think that I have to visit more often and promptly forget because that is pretty much how my life goes these days. She’s a wonderful writer and thinker.

Now that I’ve responded to the Thinking Blogger challenge, I must help my second grader make a stuffed paper tiger for school tomorrow. Man, I hope we have staples.

I’m afraid those of you tuning in expecting MotherReader’s trademark wit are likely to be a tad disappointed today. Instead, you’ll just get a dose of her editor’s notorious long-windedness: MR’s taking the weekend off, but asked me to say a few words about The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl, by Barry Lyga.

I don’t know why she would think I’d be well suited to offer up my opinions here. I mean, Donnie, the titular “Fanboy,” is an obsessive comic-book fan and aspiring artist who’s read every superhero comic under the sun, dreams of owning a mint-condition copy of Giant-Size X-Men #1, and worships at the altar of the likes of Alan Moore and Brian Michael Bendis, whereas I...

Okay, point taken.

Fifteen-year-old Fanboy is a veritable social outcast, a loner who spends his days just trying to stay under the radar and avoid the antagonism of the ever-present high school bullies. But all the while, he harbors hidden dreams of getting even with his tormentors (he even keeps a mental “list” of those due for comeuppance) and lovingly crafts his own comic — excuse me, graphic novel — in the hopes of escaping his dreary existence. But his perspective changes when he meets the openly rebellious Kyra, or “Goth Girl,” with whom he shares a feeling of societal isolation, but who may be seeking a more active form of self-expression.

At times, I feared the book would venture too far into exaggerated farce (something all too easy to do in the comic-fan arena) or darker-toned violence. Not that exploring the extremes of teenage ostracism is an unworthy undertaking in the post-Columbine era, but as I was drawn into Donnie’s world, I felt that twisting the story to that degree would have been no more than a cheap stunt. But my fears were largely unfounded; Lyga finds a truly plausible balance between humor and credibility in terms of Fanboy’s obsession, and between harmless fantasy and destructive reaction to teen angst. The book is not toothless — it does come very close to that line — but never alienates the reader from its protagonist.

The book is obviously targeted toward a YA audience, but I actually believe it holds greater value for the adult reader. While I could wholeheartedly empathize with Donnie’s plight — who doesn’t remember feeling marginalized as a teenager? — I could bring an adult’s experience to the table. I could travel along with his thoughts and dreams, but also see where his naiveté would run headlong into the harsh wall of reality, even while he remained blissfully ignorant. It made his failures all the more poignant. And his successes...? Well, let’s just say there’s still enough of the teenage fanboy in me to take unabashed satisfaction in those as well.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I just picked up a copy of Bendis’s latest Ultimate Spider-Man, so while I go read, I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Another meme has come my way, and I’m knocking it out fast before anyone else in the kidlitosphere tags my choice taggies. This meme comes from A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy, and simply asks us to name five non-kid-lit blogs we read.

Well, mine are listed right over there on the side, so this is easy. I’m not even going to use book or authors’ blogs at all, so there.

• Suburban Turmoil: A stepmom to teenagers and mom to a preschooler and a brand-new baby makes every aspect of motherhood and parenting amusing.


• Notes From the Trenches: A mom to bunch of kids handles life’s curveballs with humor and grace... Well, actually just more humor.


• Laid-Off Dad: A cool dad in New York City raises his two boys and battles mice and crazy neighbors.


• Hygiene Chronicles: A gay dad in DC shares custody of his son with his other mothers and keeps things light and funny in his writing.


• Defective Yeti: A dad but not a daddy blogger; his writing covers literature, games, news, and his own clever turns of phrase. My new favorite: Damn it — I’m still writing “Fourth Year of the Iraq War” on my checks.

Now I get to tag five people to do the same meme, and I’m working up the kid-lit blogs from the bottom. (You should know that when I go through my blogroll, sometimes I start from the top and sometimes the bottom, just to be fair). So your favorite non-kid-lit blogs, Year of Reading, Wrung Sponge, What Adrienne Thinks About That, Wands and Worlds, and Three Silly Chicks (they can pick six blogs, two for each chick).

When everyone else is posting about the Carnival of Children’s Literature, I stay quiet. Then...

BAM!

I hit you with it today. Why? Because if you’re anything like me, you went to a few blogs and then meant to get back to it and forgot. So go to The Carnival over at Midwestern Lodestar and use the leisurely weekend to see all the sites.

In Virginia the tests that are given to all school children under the No Child Left Behind Act are called the Standards Of Learning tests, or “SOLs.”

Yes, many people sat around in a room and named the tests SOL. Did anyone say, “Hey isn’t that the common shorthand for Shit Out of Luck?” I guess we’ll never know. As it turns out, the name describes the test perfectly, because if the schools don’t do well on their SOL tests, they’re SOL.

Recently, it’s been “news” that perhaps getting one hundred percent of school-age children to pass these types of tests all around the country is — surprise! — impossible. However, when you’ve locked yourself in with a catchy name like No Child Left Behind, it’s really hard to back off. No Child Left Behind Except Joey, Tina, and Angel just doesn’t fly.

At the time it was a great name, because when anyone brought up anything against the act — like the fact that it’s impossible to achieve — supporters could indignantly say that the evil person speaking up wanted to leave a child behind. But now the name has become an albatross, and yet another proof to me of the power of words.

What made me think of all this today? A Year of Reading posted something that apparently has been passed around among teachers, but by golly, I’d never seen it. It’s a perfect description of what No Child Left Behind looks like from a different perspective.

Tomorrow I’m doing a program for four- to six-year-olds that focuses on simple science. I’ve done individual programs about water, air, snow, gravity, light, sound, magnets, and measuring. I mix in relevant picture books, nonfiction books, songs, and mini-experiments. I love doing this science program because the kids are so excited about everything we do. It’s a pretty basic overview, but to these kids it’s like I’m revealing the secrets of the universe. Which in a way, I suppose, I am. Wow. Heavy stuff.

This time I’m talking about motion, and I thought of the perfect book to set the pace: Move! by Robin Page. If you haven’t seen any of Steve Jenkins’s illustrations in other books, you will not believe what this man can do with torn and cut paper. The animals just come to life and bring us along into their amazing world. Move! focuses on the many ways that animals get around, starting with the gibbon who swings through the trees or walks on his back legs. This picture leads to the jacana who walks on floating lily pads or dives to catch a fish. You see how it all links together.

At the end of the book are paragraphs about each of the animals pictured throughout the book. The text is simple enough to use with a beginning reader and can be supplemented by the additional information in the back. A beautiful and educational book in one. And tomorrow, it’s science.

Yesterday I was having a bad day. The weekend had flown by without me accomplishing very much. We watched the movie Babel on Sunday night, which disturbed me so much that I stayed up way too late reading a book to chase the depressing bleakness of the movie out of my head. Monday, I felt a little sick in the morning, and my Girl Scout meeting was like pulling teeth.

After the kids did their homework, I decided to take a nap before facing the evening. I woke from my dozing state to hear several kitchen cabinet doors opening and closing. Just as I was about to get up and see what was going on, I heard (approximately) this conversation between my daughters:

10-year-old: So how is Mom feeling today?

7-year-old: I don’t know.

10-year-old: Do you think she’s tired? Disappointed in the Girl Scouts? Angry? Sad?

7-year-old: I guess.

10-year-old: That’s what I call deep depression. Now what kind of dinner is she going to make us in deep depression?

7-year-old: Macaroni and cheese?

10-year-old: No, Dad usually makes macaroni and cheese. Now here’s my theory: If Mom’s happy then she cooks dinner...

7-year-old: Like chicken and rice!

10-year-old: Right. But she’s not happy today.

7-year-old: She’ll order Chinese food?

10-year-old: No, she orders food when she’s in the middle. But she only orders Chinese food when she’s happier. You know, like last night she sent Dad out for Popeye’s chicken because she didn’t want to cook, but she wasn’t that cranky.

7-year-old: Yeah. Maybe we can get McDonald’s?

10-year-old: No, because she’d have to feel like getting in the car to get it. She’s not going to do that. I think it’s going to be... (sound of more cabinet doors opening, plus the refrigerator) Campbell’s soup, Spaghetti-O’s or hot dogs. Let’s go check.

By now I was burying my face in the pillow so they couldn’t hear me laugh, because the thing is... my daughter was totally right. They went downstairs to the computer room first, and then found me in my room, giving me time to compose myself.

10-year-old: (sweetly) Hey, Mom. What are we having for dinner?

7-year-old: (giggling) Yeah, what are we having for dinner?

Me: I don’t know. I was thinking of maybe soup, Spaghetti-O’s or hot dogs.

My oldest proceeded to let me in on some of her theory of my dinner preparations, though I don’t believe that she used the phrase “deep depression” this time. But I fooled them by making soup, frozen pizza, and hot dogs, because I am not predictable. Oh, and we were out of Spaghetti-O’s.

I also decided to order the Kids Cookbook: Food Fun for Boys and Girls. I had checked it out from the library before, but hadn’t even tried to get the kids involved in making any of the stuff. Pretty much because I was too lazy. But clearly, we are in a rut and need some fresh ideas like Easy Tostada Pizzas. I mean, the word easy is right there in the name, so that’s got to be a good sign. Maybe one day I’ll advance to real grown-up cookbooks not put out by Pillsbury, but if I can get the kids to learn how to make something, that could only be better for all of us.

You’re either a Junie B. Jones fan, or you’re not. I am. I’d love to bring you over to my side, but I won’t fool myself that I can convince everybody. But I can try.

The new book is out — Junie B., First Grader: Dumb Bunny — and it’s as funny as ever. I read it aloud to my girls last Sunday, and my husband read it this Sunday. This time, Junie B. and her class are invited to an egg hunt at richie Lucille’s house. Here’s my favorite passage from the book:

   “I just don’t get it,” Lucille grouched. “How could anyone forget the Easter Bunny? The Easter Bunny brings candy right to your door.”
   Lennie did a frown at her.
   “He doesn’t bring candy to my door, Lucille,” he said. “The Easter Bunny is a different religion than me. I’m Jewish.”
   Shirley nodded.
   “I’m Jewish, too, Lucille,” she said. “I’ve never even been to an Easter-egg hunt before. What do you wear to something like that, anyway?”
   Lucille stood up and fluffed herself.
   “Well — since the Easter Bunny and I are the same religion — I’m going to wear a fancy Easter dress, Shirley,” she said.
   Shirley though for a minute. Then she nodded.
   “Hmm. Then I guess I will wear a fancy Jewish dress,” she said.
   Lennie’s eyes lighted up.
   “Really, Shirley? You mean we have our own clothing line?” he asked.
   He smiled.
   “Then I think I will wear some fancy Jewish pants,” he said.

The discussion continues until the teacher, Mr. Scary, explains that it is not a religious party, but more of a spring picnic with an egg-hunt activity. Apparently, there’s a special prize if you find the golden egg, and that lovely prize is a playdate with Lucille in her indoor pool and everyone wants to swim in that hot water pool. A fun book for Easter, or really any time you need a laugh.

Today would be Shout-Out Sunday in my new experimental format, but now that feels a little weird. So instead it’s Interview Meme Day with Some Shout-Out Components. Wow, that doesn’t flow off the tongue at all.

I’ve decided to post the first four questions of the Interview Meme here, these being the questions that I made up for the participants. The last question is individually addressed to each participant.

1. What’s your favorite quote?


2. How would you spend $1,500 that you won in a radio contest?


3. Where do you like to go to get away from it all?


4. If you had the complete attention of everyone in the United States, but only for thirty seconds, what would you say?

Now the individual question number 5.

• Zee Librarian — How do you keep up your energy working with the “whatever” teen population?


• Emily Reads — How are things going with the new baby and another little one at home?


• Check It Out — What do you like least and most about being a school librarian?


• Saints and Spinners — Why did you chose your blog name and signature name?


• Cats and Jammers — What feels different about putting out a book that you wrote from the books that you’ve illustrated?


• Journey Woman — I put you in the writer category of my blogroll because it seemed the best fit. How do you see yourself?


• Kaz — Slightly different from Emily’s, but what are you enjoying or noticing this time around with your baby? (If you want your blog linked here, send me the address. I couldn’t find it. Again. And didn’t know if it is really public.)

Now after answering the questions on your blog, you ask if anyone wants to answer your interview questions and so on and so on and so on...

There’s this memorable scene in a great movie called State and Main. (If you haven’t seen this movie, you really should. It’s funny. Smart funny. Written and directed by David Mamet. The story involves a movie cast and crew that descends on a small town to make a movie. Incredible dialogue and attention to detail throughout the story.) The drunken actor, played by Alec Baldwin, comes careening down the street in his car and crashes it in a screeching, dramatic way. The street is otherwise quiet, except for one man, the movie’s writer. The actor gets out of the car, sees the wreck, and says, “So, that happened.”

That’s pretty much how I feel today after yesterday’s explosive “issue.”

I’ve applied the more amused side of myself to the situation and found some areas that fit in with my irony-prone life. Now, this is the more vaguely defined Alanis Morissette irony, not the strictly defined literary irony, but still.

1. I wrote the article “Be a B-list Blogger” as a way to reach out to newer bloggers who might not know how to best break in to the community, but the article ended up as a jumping-off place for being called an exclusive clique.


2. I was originally going to title the article “Be a Better Blogger,” but changed it because I thought the title was too judgmental. I didn’t want to say that someone was a better blogger because they received more links. However, if their goal was to get more links, than describing it as a B-list blogger was more objective. Or so I thought...


3. I spent the time away from my computer yesterday calling mothers and rejecting their daughters from my school’s drama club. How’s that for bizarre? Actually, it’s a class with an instructor and a class limit and several people turned in registrations too late, so I had to tell them that the class was full. Man, I hate leaving people out.

Luckily, it’s time for Seven Wonderful Things Before Monday at the Seven Impossible Things blog. In the spirit of being inclusive, let me make sure that everyone is aware that they are invited to go to the blog and list in the comments some shiny happy things that happened over the last week. I forgot to mention there that I got some kick-ass shoes today for eight bucks instead of forty.

Also, the next Carnival of Children’s Literature is accepting submissions... um, today. To explain, the Carnivals is a collection of posts from the preceding month, pulled together by one blog and presented to the members of the community at large. To participate you either use the Carnival site to submit an entry, or you write to the host of the carnival with the link to the post you want to feature. You generally pick a favorite post of the month, though sometimes a carnival will have a theme like love or thankfulness or community.

It may not be too late to be included in the Carnival of Children’s Literature if you write an email to Midwestern Lodestar and explain how you are very new at these things, but that you really, really, really want to participate because now you realize after all the past week’s discussions that it is up to you to get yourself out on the dance floor and shake your booty. Tell her that Mother(Reader) said so.

I’ll be back tomorrow with questions for the bloggers who said they wanted them. Brace yourselves, people.

Let me tell you a little personal story.

As a teen, I went to a private school for a couple of years, and then transfered into the public high school in tenth grade. A lot of the friendships were already signed, sealed and delivered by then — especially as my community generally involved people who had never ever moved. I may have been the only new girl out of two hundred tenth graders. Having trouble finding my people, I ended up with a unique crowd of artsy folk. And things were okay.

But in eleventh grade, I found that my group didn’t really fit me anymore. Some of them had gone from artsy to druggy. Some were heading to the VoTech school for half the day, while I was staying after for music and theater.

So I set my sights on a group of girls who were also into music and theater. It wasn’t necessarily easy. I’d talk to them in homeroom, but if I walked out to our lockers with them, they’d start leaving me out of the conversations. Then I could walk to the lockers, but if I walked down the hall with them, they’d talk about people I didn’t know. Then I could walk down the hall, but I knew I couldn’t sit at lunch with them. I just knew. But by the end of my private campaign, I was not only in the group, but a trend-setter within it.

Additionally, each day I’d go home and tell my mom of my progress in a detached way. I didn’t get bent out of shape that they didn’t embrace me from day one. Why would they? They didn’t even know me. If I wanted to be part of the group, then it was up to me — not them — so I made the effort. I remembered to cut out the article from Seventeen about the cute actor that one of the girls liked. I always had an extra pencil on hand to share. I may have made a mix tape.

Didn’t my feelings get hurt sometimes? Sure. But that’s life. These girls weren’t actively mean. They didn’t say nasty things to me, but they weren’t going to make me their new best friend just because I wanted it. I had to prove that we had something in common, that I’d add something to the equation, that I was... worthy, I guess. It didn’t hurt that I was talented in our shared interests of music and theater, but that wasn’t enough really.

There had to be that “click factor.” Not “clique factor.”

Now put that whole experience in with the blogging world, and you’ll get my point. It parallels my own experience in blogging almost perfectly. Instead of “music and theater,” it’s “books and reading.” Instead of “talk to them,” it’s “comment.” Instead of “my mom” it’s “my husband.” Instead of “article in Seventeen,” “extra pencil,” and “mix tape,” it’s “emailed them about something kid-lit-related,” “linked to a great post,” and “started the 48 Hour Book Challenge.”

And you know what? I’m still doing it. I keep up with my kid-lit peeps, but I still reach out there. I comment on Surburban Turmoil, though she’s never mentioned me. When Defective Yeti — an A-list blog — had a contest, I played and I told people about it and he mentioned me for it and I probably got some new readers.

Now when I opened up my interview question meme yesterday, one person said they’d do it. ONE. What a great chance that was for a blog who wanted some face time to get attention, because I went over to Zee Librarian to look at her blog. And lo and behold I saw this cool thing she had done with her young adult display. I found she writes about movies too, which I love, and I’ll certainly be back to visit her. That’s how you do it, people.

Am I saying that the kidlitosphere is like high school? Noooo. I’m saying that all of life is like high school — in a way. Things become more refined, sometimes. But if you need proof, look at who society pays — athletes and actors (beautiful people).

I bring this up, because Monica brought it up and wanted some feedback. I commented there, and at Fuse#8, where I originally saw the post. She didn’t mention my article on how to be a B-list blogger specifically, but she did reference the A-list, B-list status thing. My idea in writing that article was to tell other blogs how to get out themselves out there — assuming that’s their goal. It doesn’t have to be.

As for Monica’s related point of how to teach our children within classrooms and literature and parenting about not excluding people, I’ll teach my daughters not to depend on everyone else being nice and fair, because life isn’t nice and fair. However, be nice and be fair. I’ll teach my daughters to be proactive about their destiny, not reactive. Oh, and that friendships — even blog and literary friendships — take effort, time, and often that “click factor.” And that’s not the same as “clique factor.”