Author: booknutgirls

booknutgirls http://thebooknutdotcom.wordpress.com I read. I blog. I sell books. I chauffeur my kids. What more do you need to know?

Matilda

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I debated for a while if I should write this one up, since it was another read-aloud to C. But I remembered that I wrote about The Secret Garden, and I decided if I haven’t written anything about the books I’ve read aloud to her (we read Ella Enchanted, but I’ve already got that one floating around here somewhere), then I’ll write about it.

This is one of those books that I’ve known the story of forever, but I’m not actually sure I’ve ever read the book before. Maybe I have; elements of it seemed familiar, but perhaps that’s from other Roald Dahl books I’ve read. He does have a very distinct writing style. And one that’s completely over-the-top and captivating at the same time.

The book had both me and C completely captivated, the entire time. She was sitting on the floor, or the ottoman, inching, leaning closer to me as if that would help her absorb the words better. She loved the story; the idea of this uber-mean woman who had power over all dominion, and the little girl who defeated her. She loved Matilda’s pranks, though she said, “She probably shouldn’t have done them. Just because her parents were mean, doesn’t really make them right.” (Ah, conscience.) She loved the words, asking me to re-read things.

And I loved reading it out loud. It’s one of those books that while it reads fine on the page, reading it out loud really brings out the brilliance of it all. I loved reading Trunchbull’s name-calling: “vile, repulsive, repellent, malicious little brute” or “You ignorant little slug! You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue!” I even found myself doing voices; there’s something about the Wormwoods and Trunchbull that begs to be read in a certain way.

In short, it was a lot of fun. That leaves us with a problem, though: What to read next?

1984

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Hear that?

It’s the sound of me surfacing, exhaling, sighing with relief now that I’m finished with George Orwell’s classic distopian novel (the word on the back of our copy is “negative utopia”, but then it was also published — and bought by Hubby — in 1984). It went down like bad medicine; combined with my usual January blues, I was thrust into a funk that was only abated by liberal dosages of 30 Rock.

Now that it’s done, I can look at it at least partially objectively. It is a classic, but a very dated one. It’s very blatantly, obviously a product of World War II.

Let me sum up for those who haven’t read it (so you don’t have to): Winston Smith, 39 years old, is a Party member in Oceania. He works in the Ministry of Truth (the “propaganda” ministry — the ministry names were funny, in a morbid way: Truth is propaganda; Peace is war; Love is the police; Plenty is economic affairs), as a recorder of some sort. He spends his days altering history, making minor corrections in the records of the past whenever someone disappears, or the economic realities come out differently than predicted, or they change with whom they are at war. He is unhappy; partially because he leads an unhappy life, but partially, also, because he questions this history-making. He remembers that things used to be different; he remembers his childhood. And so, he begins rebelling in small ways. He gets a diary, and writes in it. He takes a lover, Julia (Party members aren’t supposed to have sex). And, after what could be weeks or months, they get caught. Winston is tortured, beaten down, electrocuted, re-programmed and sent back into the world.

There’s this one point where O’Brien, the Party member responsible for Winston’s re-programming, goes on about the faults of previous totalitarian regimes: they created martyrs. They killed their enemies, sure after torturing them or humiliating them, but they killed them nonetheless. “Above all,” he tells Winston, “we do not allow the dead to rise up against us. You must stop imagining that posterity will vindicate you, Winston. Posterity will never hear of you. You will be lifted clean out of the stream of history.”

Chilling, isn’t it. It’s a dated book, as a mentioned before, and not just because the technology is dated. It’s more than that: we’ve moved past the ideas in the book as a society. I really don’t think this book works as a “warning” any more.

It’s not that there isn’t totalitarian regimes anymore. There is. (I was shocked at how well Orwell depicted Mao and the Cultural Revolution, before it happened. Eerie.) But we’re in a much more global society, a much more capitalistic one (for good or bad). There’s authoritarian countries — China, still, Cuba and Russia under Putin — but they’re not the super-scary places that Orwell was writing about. Saddam Hussein is gone. The only one left, that would fit this book’s description is North Korea. It’s scary, it’s depressing, it’s evil… and yet it’s not the way the world is going. There’s too much information flowing — take the internet — too much capital, there will never be a world like the one Orwell imagined.

But as a political novel, a look at what could-have-been, it it could have been compelling (though depressing) book. Yet, I wasn’t compelled. I was repulsed. Physically sickened. Depressed. It took some talking to Hubby, but I finally hit upon it: Orwell has no hope. There is no way out in this book. There is no hope for a brighter future. This is the way things will be. Accept it, love it, or become run over by it. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it.

And so, I suffered through (I should have given up, but I did so want to be part of the discussion, and I can’t do that if I go in and say “I didn’t finish the book.” There’s also the very large chance that most of the other women who come will have not read the book, so somebody had to.), very very grateful for the world we live in today.

Procrastinating: A Reading Meme

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What I’m really supposed to be doing (besides laundry) is finishing up George Orwell’s 1984 for my in-person book group next week. But, it’s so depressing (more on that when I finish it), and I need a break. Thankfully, Becky tagged me for Eva’s Reading Meme and now I have an excuse to step away from the book for a while.

Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews? Anything else by Khaled Hosseini. I read The Kite Runner, and I don’t care how good his other books are, or how much people rave about them. I . Will. Not. Read. Them.

If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be? I’ve thought about this and I’m not sure I can pick just three. I’ll try, though. I’d love to hang with Elizabeth Bennett (she’d be good and catty– but not really mean — and will make me laugh). Mrs. Baker from The Wednesday Wars. She just seems like an awesome, interesting person. And Eowyn from Lord of the Rings. She rocks.

(Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde): you are told you can’t die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for awhile, eventually you realise it’s past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave? The Last of the Mohicans. It put me to sleep every time I cracked it open. The thought of cracking it open puts me to sleep.

Come on, we’ve all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you’ve read, when in fact you’ve been nowhere near it? Probably anything by Dickens. I’ve only read Nicholas Nickleby, and I don’t even really remember that.

As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realise when you read a review about it/go to ‘reread’ it that you haven’t? Which book? Okay, I was a doofus, and answered this one wrong the first time around. I’ll try again. I swore I read Jane Eyre back in 8th grade. And, so, had no interest in re-reading it. Yet, last year, when everyone was raving about the miniseries, I finally picked it up, watched it, and realized that I had no idea what this story was. I read it and loved it. Go figure. (I think it was Ethan Frome that I read in 8th grade, but now I’m not even sure about that…)

You’re interviewing for the post of Official Book Advisor to some VIP (who’s not a big reader). What’s the first book you’d recommend and why? (if you feel like you’d have to know the person, go ahead of personalise the VIP) Honestly, I don’t know. It really depends on the person. Lonesome Dove for those macho types. My Name is Asher Lev for those who lean artsy. The Killer Angels for history buffs. You get the picture.

A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with? Spanish. I know enough to frustrate me. And maybe then I would actually get magical realism. Though I have to admit, I’d love to read just about any book in its original language. I’m always very suspicious of translations; I feel like I’m missing out on something.

A mischievious fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick? Persuasion, by Jane Autsen. A beautiful romance, and a wonderful heroine to boot.

I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What’s one bookish thing you ‘discovered’ from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)? Good adult fiction. It’s not really a discovery, but more of a direction. I’d wander aimlessly around the library, being endlessly disappointed in my choices for reading material. Now, thanks to the book blogging community, I at last have a direction. (And a really long TBR list!)

That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she’s granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free. I don’t really have a dream library (though I can tell you what my husband’s looks like. But he’s not doing the meme). I’m not a book owner. I love my public library, and as long as I can get free holds (yay for a year membership), and can get practically any book I desire, I’m happy. I like having the books I like around me, but it really doesn’t matter what shape they’re in… I’m really not too picky. So, if the good fairy came, I’d direct her or him to my husband and let them have at it.

I’d tag people, but I’m not sure who’s left who hasn’t done this one. If you’re interested, go ahead. Just make sure to leave a link at Eva’s; she’s holding a drawing

A Cry for Help

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On so many levels… but this isn’t about me. (I HATE January. But that’s beside the point.)

I need book help. C has discovered that she really likes graphic novels. Well, she likes other novels too (Moxy Maxwell — I was right! — and both Clementine books, specifically), but she really liked Ellie McDoodle: Have Pen Will Travel, which was kind of like Diary of a Wimpy Kid for younger kids. My question (help #1) for all you graphic novel fans out there: is there something else like this that is appropriate and interesting for an 8 year old second grader?

Book help #2 involves A and the preschool crowd. My turn to teach (we do a little co-op home school preschool with some friends) is coming up and I’ve decided to do (since it’s no longer January!) a unit on Carnival, Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day. I’m in need of pictures book ideas for any of these topics, but especially Valentine’s Day. They need to be short-ish, mostly because they are only 4, but also because we don’t have a lot of time. Any recommendations will be MOST helpful. (If you have any good craft ideas for those topics, too, I’d love to hear them!)

Thanks in advance…

Ptolemy’s Gate

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Wow.

The drama. The heart-wrenching. The action. The moral compromises. The traitor-revealing. The sinister plots. The heroics. The ironic humor. (The footnotes?) This one’s got it all.

I loved this book — an excellent ending (I was worried after the last one, but I’m okay now)–I couldn’t put it down. And it had nothing to do with M pestering me: are you done yet?? (She went back and re-read the second one and finished it before I was done with this one….impatient girl, sometimes.) It was a gripping, engaging read. Suspenseful, funny, resourceful (go Kitty!) and redemptive.

Yet.

I’m trying to process the ending. I “get” it — the parallels between Bartimaeus and Nathaniel and Bartimaeus and Ptolemy, and the self-sacrificing… but I’m not satisfied by it. I wanted something more. Closure. A happier ending. Something less noble? That’s not to say I wish Stroud had written a different ending. I don’t. It’s just going to take some discussion and thinking and processing to figure it out.

Perhaps that’s a hallmark of a truly great book.

That’s the last one for the From the Stacks challenge. Go figure; I managed to read my entire list. (I was a bit concerned about it for a while there.) Now on to read more for my own challenge….

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

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For me, this book falls into the “important but very painful to read” category. It was depressing, disheartening, and yet an important look at race relations in the south in the 1930s.

The basic story is a year in the life of the Logans, as told from 9-year-old Cassie Logan’s point of view. She and her family live in Mississippi, north of Vicksburg, on a former plantation. Her family is different than the other tenant farmers in their area: they own 400 acres of their own land. It was a fluke: a Yankee had bought some after the Civil War and ended up selling some to Cassie’s grandfather. Yet, it’s the land — and owning it — that allows Cassie’s family a measure of freedom that the other families don’t have.

The interesting thing (to me) is that the other black families don’t hold it against the Logans do what they can to help out their neighbors and work hard at making ends meet. It’s the white people that claim the Logan’s are putting on airs, getting uppity and the like. In the end, it’s the land that both dooms them and saves them. (Which sounds ominous, I know, but really that’s the way it happens.)

Mildred Taylor doesn’t spare any one or anything. When Cassie disobeys, she gets whipped. She gets humiliated for just being black, and manages to get her “revenge”. It’s very much a world of get and try and give back. The children get splattered every morning on their way to school by the white bus going by (on purpose), and they take their revenge. Which sets off a chain of events. I think more than race relations, this book is about consequences. The consequences of choices, of decisions, of being black (or white) in Mississippi. There’s a strong sense of family, too. The Logans deeply care for their children, wanting what’s best for them. They are also concerned for their safety, navigating the difficult path of what’s right versus what’s best.

It was a very powerful book, one that I’m sure will stay with me for quite a while.

Good Masters! Sweet Ladies!

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In a word: delightful.

Other words to describe this: gem, fascinating, funny, captivating, beautiful.

Amazing.

It’s amazing how much information Laura Amy Schlitz packed into 81 pages. There are 22 captivating characters, each one with their own story, separate, yet interconnected. It’s a well-researched (but never dull) peek back in to Medieval times, the harshness of it, as well as the simple little joys. I liked that Schlitz didn’t glamorize the lives of these children, but I liked that she kept it accessible to kids of today. I liked that much of it was poetry: beautiful, simple, powerful. (And this is from someone who isn’t necessarily a fan of poetry.)

I want to own this book. I have a feeling that M and C will enjoy it, too. I can even see them putting on one or two of the plays themselves. It’s a treasure, and well worth the Newbery it won this year.

The Princess and the Hound

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This one, by Mette Ivie Harrison, is a perfect transition book. I needed something to go between Omnivore’s Dilemma and whatever I’m going to read next, a kind of cleanse-my-palate thing (you can tell I was just reading a food book). Thankfully, I had picked this up on a whim a few weeks ago at the library, in one of my hey-I-heard-this-was-good moments.

And I’m so very glad I did.

It was a compelling fantasy, an intriguing fairy tale. I love the world that Harrison created, where there’s “animal magic”: the ability to talk to animals in their own language. Unfortunately, that ability is regarded as evil, and so the people who have it are persecuted. Which is a bit of a problem for our hero, Prince George. (Hey! A hero named George! Hubby would be happy; he wanted to name our son George. But we never had a son…) He has the animal magic, as did his mother (who died because of it). He’s grown up hiding it and suppressing it. He eventually becomes engaged to Princess Beatrice, the only (mostly unwanted) child of a rival kingdom, whose sole companion is a wild hound.

To do much more summing up would give away plot points that are much better left as surprises. And this book is full of them; just when I figured it was getting predictable, and I knew what was going to happen next, Harrison threw me for a loop. There were twists in the plot, growth in all the characters (even the bad guys!), happy (mostly) endings for all. It’s also interesting because it’s from George’s point of view. It’s not very often you get a straight up romance from the male point of view. But perhaps that’s partly the the reason I have a quibble is with the love story. It’s good — I like that they weren’t swooning over each other or pining away (I hate that) and that they had some mutual respect. But, I felt like they were missing something elemental, some sort of chemistry that wasn’t there. But, as I said, that’s quibbling.

It’s a very good book. And I’m glad I transitioned with it.

Better than the Golden Globes…

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Via Abby…

Newbery Winner: “Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices from a Medieval Village,” written by Laura Amy Schlitz
I only have to say that Fuse must be so jazzed. I’ve got it on hold at the library so when it comes in, I’ll weigh in on it then.

Honors: Elijah of Buxton, by Christopher Paul Curtis, The Wednesday Wars, by Gary D. Schmidt, and Feathers, by Jacqueline Woodson
I haven’t read Feathers, but I’m really excited the other two got nods. They were my picks out of all the books I’d read this year.

Caldecott: The Invention of Hugo Cabret, illustrated by Brian Selznick
How awesome. I sure hope my mother-in-law gets it for us (she’s purchased the Caldecott winners for us for the last several years), I would LOVE to own a copy.

Caldecott Honors: Henry’s Freedom Box: A True Story from the Underground Railroad, illustrated by Kadir Nelson, written by Ellen Levine; First the Egg, illustrated and written by Laura Vaccaro Seeger; The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain, illustrated and written by Peter Sís; and Knuffle Bunny Too: A Case of Mistaken Identity, illustrated and written by Mo Willems.
Mo Willems is becoming a perpetual bridesmaid: always the Honor, never the medal itself. Ah well. I haven’t read any of the others, though I’ve heard great things about The Wall, so I’ll probably be picking that up sometime soon.

You can find the list here.

Omnivore’s Dilemma

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First, some history. Back in 2001 Hubby brought home a New York Times Magazine article by Michael Pollan had written about corn and the effect it is havingAmerican diets. I read it, was sufficiently shocked, and started reading ingredient labels. A anti-corn syrup activist was born. I have changed my diet (and my family’s) significantly in the past 7 1/2 years: I make my own bread, we limit the cereal and snack intake, we only have soda rarely. Aside from that article, the other motivators for food change over the years have been Fast Food Nation (which Hubby read; he said I probably couldn’t stomach the slaughtering chapters) and Crunchy Cons. We rarely eat at fast food (not never, though I do loathe McDonalds these days), and we try our best to buy local, especially when it comes to food. (Warning: this is one LONG review. Sorry.)

So this book, for me, was not so much a revelation as a confirmation. I can — and should — take the next step, take our food awareness to a slightly higher level (even if that means, much to C’s distress, getting rid of chicken nuggets and hot dogs and mac-and-cheese in a box).

The book is divided up in to three parts: Industrial, Organic, and Foraging, where he follows four meals from the beginning through to eating them. In industrial, he follows corn through corn-fed steers being “processed” to eating at McDonalds. If you read nothing else out of this book, read this section. Please. The only way we’ll even remotely begin to change the hold of industrial agribusiness has on this country is if more people know. (At one point, Pollan writes that the best way to change things would be to require glass walls on all slaughterhouses. Then, the public would be forced to acknowledge what goes on in those places in the name of cheap beef.)

The organic section was the one that I found most interesting. Pollan’s ultimate conclusion is that big organic (Whole Foods, Trader Joes, what you get at the supermarket) isn’t a whole lot better than industrial agriculture. I found this somewhat surprising. But, he visited farms and feedlots, and was unimpressed with the organicness of it all. Sure, they didn’t use pesticides or antibiotics, but the vegetables were still being picked by immigrant workers and the animals were still living in overcrowded conditions. Not exactly environmentally healthy, even if there is an “organic” stamp on it. (He also spends a lot of time talking about USDA regulations. If you can read this book and not end up angry at the USDA, I’ll be impressed.)

The second part of the organic section is Pollan’s ultimate ideal. He spent a week at Polyface farm, run by Joel Salatin. This man is an impressive farmer. He considers himself a”grass farmer“, rethinking how he raises cows, chickens, pigs, and rabbits. Everything is eco-friendly, local and interconnected. It’s an amazing place (it almost sounds too good to be true), and it made me wish for such a place closer to me (either that, or that I still lived in the DC area so I could pop down for a visit). It also made me realize that even though I buy local, I haven’t visited the farms where I get my meat. How are the animals living? How are they slaughtered and processed? I should be more proactive.

The final section is his attempt to recreate the hunter-gatherer. He hunts for wild boar. He forages for mushrooms, and serves a meal, in the end, that cost him practically nothing (except for time). He also visits vegetarianism, and the implications that has for modern eating. It’s all very fascinating (and well-written).

But, in the end, it leaves me slightly depressed. How many people are going to pick up this book? How many people can it change? Sure, organics and farmers markets are growing, but (as we’ve found out), it’s expensive. We spend a good chunk of our monthly paycheck on food, and it’s not because we’re buying more. I liked this quote (from Joel Salatin):

“Whenever I hear people say clean food is expensive, I tell them it’s actually the cheapest food you can buy… [W]ith our food all of the cost are figured into the price. Society is not bearing the cost of water pollution, of antibiotic resistance, of food-borne illnesses, of crop subsidies, of subsidized oil and water — of all the hidden costs to the environment and the taxpayer that make cheap food seem cheap. No thinking person will tell you they don’t care about all that. I tell them the choice is simple: You can buy honestly priced food or you can buy irresponsibly priced food.”

It just seems like a huge, uphill battle. But one in which I’m more than willing to do my part.