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?

Hoppin’ October

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I love this time of year… I like that the days are turning cooler (well, here in Kansas, the days are still dang hot, but the nights at least are cooler, which I appreciate)… I like the buildup to Hallowthanksmus, the festivities, the stuff, the fun… My inner baker rears it’s head and realizes that it’s cool enough to begin baking cookies and muffins and bread without turning the house into an inferno.

And the kidlit blogosphere is hopping. There’s, for your enjoyment this month, the 31 flavorite YA authors at readergirlz… they’ve managed to nab a bunch of talented YA authors — including Meg Cabot (tonight), Lisa Yee (October 22) and Stephenie Meyer (October 31) to “chat nightly at our group forum at 5 PM PST/8 PM EST (with the exception of the Halloween chat, which will be held at 9 PM PST/MIDNIGHT EST).” Sounds like fun.

And, for those of us not on a Cybil panel, there’s the opportunity to nominate our favorite poetry, picture books (both fiction and non), middle grade books, YA books (both fiction and non), graphic novels, and fantasy/science fiction books for the nomination process. What? You haven’t heard of the Cybils? From their web site:

Like all revolutions, this one started small, with a single post on a blog devoted to children’s literature. The Newbery Awards seemed too elitist and the Quills, well, not enough so. Was there a middle ground, an annual award that would recognize both a book’s merits and popularity?

The Cybils found that middle ground. The public nominates their favorite children’s books from 2007 in seven categories: Picture Books; Non-fiction Picture Books; Middle Grade fiction; Poetry; Young Adult fiction; Non-fiction (YA/MG); and Graphic Novels. Nominations open on October 1.

When we say “the public,” we mean it. Anyone with an e-mail address may nominate one book per category. Then groups of bloggers get to work. First, a nominating committee reads ALL the titles in a given category. After nearly two arduous months, this committee winnows the nominees to five finalists. A second committee of bloggers considers the shortlist and, after much debate, chooses the best of the best for 2007.

If that isn’t enough for you to do… this week is BOTH Buy a Friend a Book Week and Banned Books Week. Hey… you could buy a friend a banned book, and kill two birds with one stone! I’m not sure I’ll get around to reading a banned book this week; there are too many other books on my bedroom floor waiting for me. Ah, well. I’ll have to plan better next year.

So, what are you doing still hanging around here?

The Secret of Castle Cant

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Or, My Chinaberry Lament.

Oh, Chinaberry
There was a time when
I could count on enjoying any book
That you recommended between your covers.
I looked forward to your arrival
Every month,
Perusing your pages,
Writing down the many interesting-sounding books.

But, dear, dear Chinaberry,
Something is wrong.
Either my tastes are changing
Or
Your standards are not as high.
Either way,
I just haven’t been as happy with you.

Take, for example,
The Secret of Castle Cant,
by K. P. Bath.
It’s not that it was terrible.
It just wasn’t all that interesting.
Sure, Lucy, though down on her luck
Found pluck
And saved the day.
But I really didn’t care.
Sure, Pauline went from a spoiled brat
To a decent kid.
But I really didn’t care.

And I think
That’s the pitiful thing here.
There was no real reason to care
One way or the other
About anyone in this book.
The conflict was mundane,
And the “bad guy”,
Stereotypical.
And really,
What was the deal
With the chewing gum obsession?

But it wasn’t the
Hilarious Romp
That you said it would be.
It wasn’t Whimsical,
Memorable,
Or even enjoyable.
(Maybe it’s just me
Being cranky.
It’s possible.)

But, Chinaberry,
This isn’t the first time.
There have been others that I’ve
Checked out on
Your recommendation
That have just fallen flat.
And, I have to say, that I’m
Losing faith
In your ability
To recommend books that
I will enjoy.

I don’t know if I will give up
Just yet.
Maybe one more try.
I will look forward to
Your arrival in
My mailbox

And hope.

Eight Feet in the Andes

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I think, perhaps, several years ago I would have been more inclined to like this book by Dervla Murphy. I think I would have admired her, thought her ambitious and adventuresome for climbing the Andes mountains with no companions except her 9-year-old daughter and a mule, living on the land and the generosity of the Peruvians. I think I would have found her feminist observations — why can’t a woman do this by herself, anyway? — inspiring.

Now… I just think she’s crazy. Crazy for even thinking about hiking through the Andes. Crazy for taking her daughter along. Crazy because… well… let’s just say it’s not something I even remotely related to. (Not that I have to, but it didn’t amuse or inspire me, either.)

It took me a while to get into the book — it’s a diary, and those are hit and miss with me. This time, it was more misses than hits. There’s really no story here. They hike from place to place. They have food sometimes; they sleep in various places. They almost freeze, rescued by a native family who didn’t speak a word of Spanish or English. And, by the entries in mid-October I was tired. Tired of her whining about modern civilization (though early on I thought it had Wendell Berry-esque overtones), tired of the paces she put her child through. Tired of Peru.

So, I abandoned them. Sure, I checked the back: whew, they made it to the end of the trail safe by Christmas Day. Yee-haw.

That’s the third book for the Armchair Challenge. Not one memorable one yet. Maybe I ought to re-think my list….

Ah, Bookgroups

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I said in the comments to The Traveler’s Gift that I’d give a report on how my in-person book group went… but first, I think I need to tell you a bit about it.

We’re a group of women from my church, ranging in age from late-20s to 76 (she’s a firecracker; I hope I’m that spunky when I’m 76!). We — there’s usually anywhere from 4 to 10 of us — meet once a month, rotating homes, to chat about books, life, religion… whatever suits our mood (last night it was yard work and lingerie. Don’t ask.). We nominate books once a year, and then one woman organizes it into a list, two books per month. The deal is: read both, read one, don’t read at all, just come. 🙂 I think they’ve done a fairly good job over the years (I only started going last year when I moved here; I think the group’s been going for at least 7 years) reading a balanced selection of classics and contemporary fiction. But, as is always the case, opinions on those books range widely. We are not intellectuals; most of the time our discussions are about things other than the books. And more often than not, if people haven’t read the book, our “discussion” is more along the lines of convincing those who haven’t read the book to read it.

Last night was, actually, fairly tame. I have to say that I wasn’t the only one who disliked the books… though I think we were in the minority. I put out, for the Inheritance, my reasons for disliking posthumously published works (and yes, I used that word in a sentence, and yes, they did make fun of me for doing so), which Mdme. 76 dismissed out of hand. Who cares? It was a good, moral book. In fact, that was the main consensus: it was light, it was moral therefore it was a good story. They were glad it was printed; even though I bemoaned the fact that this, of all of Alcott’s works, was the least worthy. Ah, well. I didn’t go to convince people of my position.

As for the Traveler’s Gift, the consensus was, again, that because the ideas were good, the book was worth reading. I was really glad when someone else said that the ideas were great, everyone needs them, but the writing was crap. (YAY!) I gave a very impassioned defense of getting to know Joshua Chamberlin from another source… and then got labeled a deep reader. I think that’s the first time that’s ever happened. I know that over at my online book group, I’m one of the shallow readers, not understanding, not getting a third of what the books that we read are about.

But, really, isn’t that why we go to book groups? (At least that’s why I do.) I go not only because I enjoy the company of these women, but I am glad they pick books that I wouldn’t normally. I enjoy what they have to say, even when I vehemently disagree with them. (I’d get made fun of for using that word, too.) But I’m also glad for the Nook, for an opportunity to associate with people who challenge my reading and then help me understand what I’ve read. I need both in my life. And I think on some small level, even though I’m not nearly the most well-read of the group, I hope to help challenge and stretch others. (That is, if I don’t offend them all.)

All this got me to thinking: Why do you go to book groups? What do you get out of them? What do you bring to them? Are they a worthwhile part of your life?

Oh, we spent a considerable amount of time talking about Stephenie Meyer last night. Mdme. 76 wanted to know if she should read them. I don’t know if she will, but you know, I’d love to hear what she thinks of Bella and Edward. Even if she hates it.

The Traveler’s Gift

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Oy! (I never use that expression, but it fits today.) I’m SO totally… Grrr. Let me explain.

Last night, Hubby took the older girls on a campout, leaving me home with Baby (well, Toddler) K. We had fun, watched Dora (she loves Dora), ate, played, and I got her to bed around 8:30. I had started The Traveler’s Gift, by Andy Andrews (poor, unfortunate man. What were his parents thinking?), earlier that evening (during Dora), and realized it was an easy read. I figured I’d finish it before popping in my movie, which a friend said I was sure to love: The Inheritance.

Yes. That Inheritance. I have to say, though, I liked the movie better than the book. The screenwriters took the disaster that was published and turned it into… a cheesy, sappy, maudlin movie. But I did like it better. Just not enough. It didn’t help that the acting was terrible: Merideth Baxter and Thomas Gibson were just showing up for the money. And no one else could act. They had to dress Ida in low-cut costumes so we could tell she was the “bad girl”. At one point — supposedly the climax — I laughed. Um. I don’t think that was the reaction they were looking for. The one thing I did like was that they got rid of the Insufferable Older Brother, and brought back the Father Figure. I liked him; he was genuinely funny (and I think he was meant to be). They killed him off near the end, though. By the time I was finished I was sick of the whole lot. (It didn’t help that they had those notes — what do you call them? — at the end where you get to find out what happened to all the characters. Ida ended up in a mental institution. Serves her right for being a desperate, snitty wench. At least I guess that’s what we’re suppose to think.)

And the book…. let’s just say it’s not been a good month for my in-person book group. David Ponder is 46 years old, with a wife and daughter, who has lost his job. Hit rock bottom (which really isn’t all that rock bottom if you think about it): credit cards maxed, behind on mortgage, daughter sick (with tonsillitis of all things. I figured “daughter sick” would mean leukemia or something important). He’s worthless. He’s failed. He’s going to kill himself. But, no. He gets a second chance: he gets to travel throughout history learning life lessons from dead white guys. (Oh, except he meets Anne Frank, so it doesn’t quite work out.) The back of the book says “The Traveler’s Gift effectively combines self-help with fiction.” Yes. Beware books that effectively combine self-help with fiction. They’re lame.

As a self-help book, this may have been okay. David does learn some good lessons (I’m going to give them to you so you don’t have to read the book, and you still get what you need to change your life. Okay?): I am responsible for my past and future; I will seek wisdom and be a servant to others; I am a person of action; I have a decided heart; I will choose to be happy; I will greet the day with a forgiving spirit; I will persist without exception. See? Not bad lessons. But the situations he receives them in are completely overdone. He meets (in order): Truman, King Solomon, Joshua Chamberlin (who is really cool, but you shouldn’t learn about him from this book!), Columbus, Anne Frank, Lincoln and Angel Gabriel. They lecture a believably disbelieving David on what made their lives great. It wasn’t bad…. but it wasn’t great. It was when he got to Gabriel that I really lost patience with the thing. Gabriel says that David is the last person to take this “trip” (others included George Washington and Martin Luther King, Jr.) and that is was up to David to change the world. Oh. Okay. Then, as an added bonus, David gets to see his future where he does change the world by becoming… wait for it…

A motivational speaker. At this point, I threw the book across the room. I’ll take my self-help from legitimate sources, thank you. Bleh.

(Now to go to book group and face people who actually liked these books. And express my displeasure without sounding snobby. Any suggestions?)

Middle School is Worse than Meatloaf

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Mother Reader reviewed this book, by Jennifer L. Holm and Elicia Castaldi a while back (and very kindly she put it in her best of 2007 list so there was a link! Thanks!) and something about what she said compelled me to put this one on hold at the library. (I’m really just too cheap to buy books. Sigh.)

Anyway, Pam’s right. It is one of the best little books I’ve read this year. It didn’t take long… it’s, well, A Year Told Through Stuff, and reading reciepts, text messages, notes, letters and school assignments doesn’t take long. But it’s amazing. Amazing that we get to know and feel with Ginny without the traditional text to guide us. The basic “plot” is a simple one: Ginny goes through school, gains a dad (her mom remarries), deals with friends, deals with school, deals with brothers, and survives. But Holm and Castaldi make the ordinary (a simple request from mom for Ginny to clean her room, for example) extraordinary.

Some of my favorite moments: the bank statement every month. No matter how much Ginny deposits and withdrawals she always ends up with $5. The receipt for the salon and the plumbing after Ginny tries dying her hair. The Adventures of Harry and Ginny comic strips (drawn by Ginny’s older brother).

This poem:

There’s nothing quite like
the first day of school,
with all those
newly waxed floors
and hopeful faces.
You can’t help but think
you’ll get a fresh start
and be the girl
everyone thinks is cool.
not the one who got whacked
by a softball in gym
and had her nose
swell to the size of the
Empire State Building.
There’s nothing quite like
the first day of school,
you think,
and then Brian Bukvic
shouts,
“Hey Banana Nose!”
and you know you’re
back in school.

Actually, I loved all the poems in the book. (Read the one Mother Reader quoted; it’s hilarious.)

I handed it to M when she came home from school yesterday, and she finished it an hour or so later. She loved it, too. Though probably for different reasons. She related to the friendship issues. She loved the science fair project. She enjoyed getting to know Ginny.

As did I.

September Bookworms Carnival: New and Improved Edition

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It has been brought to my attention over the past couple of days that several people submitted posts for the carnival that never made it to me. We’ve tentatively figured out that either the blog carnival submission form was faulty for a few days or my spam blocker eats gmail addresses. Don’t know why. As a result, if you submitted something and you didn’t get a rejection notice from me (I did try to send those out), I probably didn’t receive it. So, I’m opening up the carnival for submissions again until Friday. (And, yes, if you didn’t get one in and you want to participate, I’ll take those submissions, too. Why not?) If you don’t have another email address, leave the links to the post here or here. I’ll be sure to get them that way.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

A Good Man is Hard to Find

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A couple months ago, when that “which author’s fiction are you” quiz was going around, this was my result:

Which Author’s Fiction are You?


Flannery O’Connor wrote your book. Not much escapes your notice.
Take this quiz!

I was highly embarrassed; I had never read Flannery O’Connor, and didn’t want to link to something that I hadn’t read. Now, thanks to the online bookgroup, I can now say: I’m not sure I want Flannery O’Connor writing my story.

I say that mostly because her stories, at first glance, are harsh, violent and, well, depressing. I hope my life isn’t like her Southern characters… they are often banal, pathetic, racist. They grate on the nerves, on the psyche: what on earth is redeeming about any of them?

Yet, I found as I was reading, that I related to and liked several of these stories. The first — A Good Man is Hard to Find — is a horrible way (for me) to start a book: a banal picture of a family taking a vacation, which ends in the violent deaths of said family. I was about ready to give up on O’Connor after that one. (I’m still not sure if I see the “redemption” and “grace” that’s supposed to be in that particular story.) But, feeling a desire to be a part of the discussion, I kept reading. I found I actually liked “A Stroke of Good Fortune”; I identified with the main character’s desire to be something more than the way she was raised, though I thought denying that she was pregnant was a pretty drastic way to do so. I liked “A Late Encounter with the Enemy”: I thought the ending was particularly ironic, which made me smile. The rest of them… well, I have to admit that I didn’t get them. Some of them I didn’t get more than others (“The River”, in particular), but I’m lost as to the whole Christian allegory that she’s supposed to have written about.

I guess she may just be over my head. At the very least, she’ll make for good book group discussion, right? (And maybe I’ll even learn a thing or two in the process.)

And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

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Thanks to everyone for all the birthday wishes. Yes, he really is wonderful (most of the time). And no, I don’t plan on giving him up. 😀

My birthday was nice. I got a surprise phone call from a dear friend whom I haven’t seen in four years and spent a while chatting with her. And while I didn’t get a “buttload of books” like Andi wished, I did win two from Book Binge. I wasn’t the original winner, but she never responded, so whomever she is I have her to thank for my two “birthday” books. I originally chose the two Judith McNaught books, but I realized that reading 1400 pages in two weeks — on top of everything else — was a bit much, so Holly very nicely let me switch. I chose Colleen Gleason‘s Gardella vampire books, which have been on my TBR list for a while now anyway. I also received Cinder Edna (which is really hard for me to say) from a good friend here in Kansas. It’s a delightful alternative telling of Cinderella… it’s nice to know I’m not to old for picture books!

Other than that, we just had a little party at home. I made my cake, a chocolate-marshmallow confection that was a bit too sweet for my taste. (Good to know; I’ve been meaning to try out that recipe for a while.) Here’s the bonfire I had to blow out (we only had a 3 number candle, so we attempted to make a 5 out of regular candles):

And I got a lovely pair of earrings from my girls, money from my in-laws, and this from my parents:

So it was a very nice birthday.

Now back to what we usually do around here.

My Birthday Girl Woman

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Hello Friends of Melissa (hereafter FOM),

This is the DH writing (I believe that’s what she calls me, right?). Why am I writing here? Why am I intruding upon her personal cyberspace? Because tomorrow is Melissa’s 35th birthday, and sneaking onto her blog and posting a birthday note to her, and to all you FOM, is one of the few things I can imagine that might, just might, surprise her. And Melissa loves surprises, even though they also drive her nuts.

I’m not going to embarrass her or anyone else here. Melissa’s done a few of those “five things you never would have guessed about me” memes after all, and thus there probably isn’t really very much left unsaid that I could scandalize her with here anyway. (Well, no, that’s not really true; there are some things about her which I suspect haven’t been mentioned on this blog, and I suppose I could write about those. But I won’t because, this is a family-family website and all. I mean, her and my Mom are both regular readers.) So instead, I’ll go the maudlin and appreciative route.

Melissa’s been writing out her thoughts and opinions of books on this website for nearly three years now. She started out thinking that blogging was just a somewhat more efficient way to do what she was already doing on our old website–namely, just keeping track of books she’d read, maybe including brief reviews of them for the sake of reminder her of what she thought. She never imagined she’d ever have, y’know, readers herself…and when all you FOM started to show up, she really didn’t know what do with you. But she caught on soon enough. And she caught something more too: a vision of herself, of her future, and of a contribution she could make to others. She’s mentioned this before here, but let me just say it again: this blog helped her, as we slowly brought the whole “growing family” stage of our lives to an end and started working on just keeping the kids growing and adequately fed, figure out what she loved to do, what she was good at, what she had to offer as her 30s and 40s loomed before her. For some reason (maybe because of all the time she spent hanging out with my friends when we were first married and went off to graduate school) Melissa spent years often feeling like the young and inexperienced one in any given crowd; this blog, and all of you, helped her see her own grown-up and educated and competent self a little more clearly. So thanks for all that, on this auspicious occasion.

And 35 is fairly auspicious, I think. Maybe not as auspicious as turning 40, but it’s getting there. Halfway to the Biblical three-score plus ten, anyway. I hit that mark a few years back, and just about every day I’m reminded of all the reasons I have to be grateful for Melissa for being my companion up through that point, and now beyond it. There’s been some rough years along with the good ones, that’s for certain; but through it all she’s been kind, loving, (mostly) forgiving, and my best friend, as well as still the most attractive woman I know. I don’t want to even pretend to be able to predict what accomplishments and insights her next 35 years will bring to her, but I’m excited by them nonetheless, because I know she’ll share them with me and our children…and knowing her, probably with all of you, too. Because that’s the sort of person she is.

Melissa doesn’t post many pictures of herself here, I don’t believe, which is too bad, because she’s a looker. Anyway, here’s a recent photo of her, as usual maintaining her dignity even as her DH unceremoniously mauls her. Sorry if it’s a little fuzzy, Melissa; it’s 11:55pm, and I can’t quite figure out how to work the scanner.

Oh, and happy birthday.

Love,
Me