30 Stumbling Mothers Share Glimpses of Grace
edited by Kathryn Lynard Soper
ages: adult
First sentence: “I clambered up the fronts steps of the elementary school, sweaty and panting, with an infant, a toddler, and a preschooler in tow.”
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Review copy sent to me by the editor.

Writing about motherhood is a tricky thing. How to balance the weight of one’s personal experiences as a mother, and yet not come off as a know-it-all? How does one impart advice to those following after you, with similar problems and not seem arrogant?

The answer I have to give you lies in this book. It’s a series of personal essays on all aspects of motherhood/wifehood: divorce, step parenting, parenting children other than your own, children with disabilities, growing up, teenagers, mistakes, growth, tears, and joy. It’s all faith-based, but not necessarily overtly religious; these are women who are trying to make sense of their lives, of the cards that Fate and God and Choice have dealt them. While reading, it’s easy to relate to and feel for each individual author, learning and growing with her on her journey. Sure, it can be trite: here are the “lessons learned” while experiencing this inevitable trial that came with being a mother. But it never felt saccharine.

Like with Nurture Shock, the essays that resonated with me most were the once on teenagers. They were equal parts terrifying (really? That much running around and sleep deprivation?) and encouraging (they do turn out okay in the end, right?), they gave me hope and courage that not only am I not in this alone, but also that I can do it. I can raise four girls, and end up sane in the end.

I’m not exactly a reflective person; I tend to take life as it comes and let it flow over me. But this book helped me stop and think and enjoy, for a moment, a little bit of what being a mother and wife can possibly be. Which is exactly why there are books like these.

(Full disclosure: I do know and like the editor, though we have not met in person, and I do know several of the authors of the stories. I’m not sure that affected the way I read the book, but you never know.)

by Pamela S. Turner
Photographs by Andy Comins
ages: 9+
First sentence: “THe sun is just peeking over golden Wyoming hills as Dr. Tyrone Hayes wakes his team.”
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I’m really kind of at a loss as to what to say about this book. Really, the only thing is: I think it’s very cool. I think it’s cool because it’s about an African-American research scientist. How many books are there out there about minority scientists? (Then again, I’m not sure I’ve read many books about scientists; maybe there are tons.) I think it’s cool because the photography is fabulous, even if it is mostly just frogs. Then again, I think it’s cool because it takes frogs seriously, and actually makes the study of them sound fascinating and appealing.

I think it’s cool because it connects the study of frogs to the environment and gives the science behind it all relevance. I think it’s cool because it is quietly environmentalist, without being preachy. I think it’s cool because while being a scientist isn’t really cool or hip or sexy, it is interesting.

But most of all, I think it’s cool because it’s accessible to kids. Simple text, without a lot of science speak, but it never talked down to the readers. Here’s hoping that someone, somewhere reads this book and wants to become a frog scientist.

Now, that would be cool.

by Elizabeth Gilbert
ages: adult
First sentence: “When you’re traveling in India — especially through holy sites and Ashrams — you see a lot of people wearing beads around their necks.”
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I — honestly — expected to be underwhelmed by this book. Really. I’m highly suspicious of anything really popular, especially if they spawn parodies like this one. It can’t be everything everyone says it is. Right?

Well, call it the blessing of low expectations. Or perhaps it was a good time in my life to read it (who knows what I would have thought if I’d read it when it first came out), but I liked it. Not super-love, going-to-change-my-life like, but it was enjoyable to read. And fun. And, yeah, it made me want to go to Italy. And take a yoga-influenced vacation (though maybe not quite spend a month at an Ashram). (Bali didn’t make much of an impression on me, mostly because it was almost too personal on her end for me to truly relate. Though I’m glad she found peace and love.) It made me grateful for the friends I have. And that I’m in a good, healthy marriage. It made me think about the way I talk to God, the way I approach my spiritual life. And it made me want to do good in the world.

Since I’m reading this so far after it came out (catching the second wave with the movie coming out later this summer; yes, I am curious to see what they do with the book), you probably all know about Liz’s (I’m sorry to be personal here, but after finishing the book, you feel like she’s your best gal pal that you’ve managed to hang out with for a while) year-long journey where she, in short, eats for four months, prays for four months, and then spends four months trying to find a balance between the two and falls in love.

So, I’m going to leave you with some quotes and ideas that really struck me.

First is too long to type out. But, when Liz was in Italy, she made friends with an American, Maria, and her husband Giulio. Liz was contemplating that while she loves Rome, she could never really fit in there. And Giulio puts forth this idea that it’s because her word doesn’t fit with Rome’s word.

“He went on to explain, in a mixture of English, Italian and hand gestures, that every city has a single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there. If you could read people’s thoughts as they were passing you on the streets of any given place, you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought. Whatever that majority thought might be — that is the word of the city. And if your personal word does not match the word of the city, then you don’t’ really belong there.”

I love this idea. I don’t know why, really; perhaps it’s an urge to identify things, to label things, to stick them in a box, but I love the idea that you can boil any city, any family, any person down to one word. (And yes, I have thought of mine.) It is, in Liz’s words “a kooky theory, impossible to prove” but it has captivated my fancy.

And a couple that aren’t too long:

AS you. If there is one holy truth of this Yoga, that line encapsulates it. God dwells within you as you yourself, exactly the way you are. God isn’t interested in watching you enact some performance of personality in order to comply with some crackpot notion you have about how a spiritual person looks or behaves. We all seem to get this idea that, in order to be sacred, we have to make some massive, dramatic change of character, that we have to renounce our individuality. This is a classic example of what they call in the East “wrong-thinking.”… To know God, you need only to renounce one thing — your sense of division from God. Otherwise, just stay as you were made, within your natural character.

and a quote from Ketut, the wonderful, wise, funny, healing man from Bali:

Why they always look so serious in Yoga? You make serious face like this, you scare away good energy. To meditate, only you must smile. Smile with face, smile with mind, and good energy will come to you and clean away dirty energy. Even smile in your liver. Practice tonight at hotel. Not to hurry, not to try too hard. Too serious, you make you sick. You can calling the good energy with a smile.

Hubby asked, while I was reading it, if it was a self-help book? It is but only to the extent that she is helping herself and is inviting us along for the journey. It really is, in the end, just that: a book about one woman’s journey. And it’s an interesting journey, with an interesting (if a bit self-indulgent) woman. You can’t get much better than that.

One Woman’s Sweet Journey from Unhappy Hollywood Executive to Contented Country Baker
by Gesine Bullock-Prado
ages: adult
First sentence: “I saw the devil at age three and he gave me chocolate.”
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I needed something light, something foody, something not-YA, yet something interesting, and when Andi reviewed this, I knew that this had to be my next book. And, thankfully, it was everything I wanted it to be.

One part memoir of a childhood, one part food-lover’s delight (including recipes!), one part Hollywood insider (sans names, except for older sister Sandra, though), this book follows Gesine (pronounced Geh-see-neh) Bullock-Prado’s path from high-powered Hollywood executive to the owner of Gesine’s Confections in Montpelier, Vermont. It’s not a comfortable journey; baking increasingly becomes self-described social misanthrope Gesine’s obsession before she left Hollywood, and the store had some fits and starts before becoming a smoothly operating business. And the book isn’t exactly even either: told in hour increments mirroring the arc of Gesine’s day, it’s often uneven, sometimes telling the same stories more than once, and often the lack of chronology in the stories is quite jarring.

But, given that, Gesine’s a likable person and, Hollywood gossip aside, it’s an interesting story. She grew up in Germany and with her descriptions of food and customs and traditions, made me long to visit there again. I know I have to try every single recipe (well, not the carrot cake) in the book. It was comforting to read about of someone who adores baking, someone who finds satisfaction in creating something delicious to eat. And, no, it’s not the best-written book ever, though she is often funny, sometimes sentimental, and occasionally wandering, you can’t help but love her and want to sit down with her, eat something delicious and chat a while.

Which, I’d like to think, is what she wanted you to think when she wrote this book.

Walk Together, Children, and Don’t You Grow Weary
by Elizabeth Partridge
ages: 10+
First sentence: “The first time Joanne Blackmon was arrested, she was just ten years old.”
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I’m sure this was on my radar before SLJ’s Battle of the (Kids) Books began, but the decision of Gary Schmidt prompted me to delve into it.

And he’s right: it’s a remarkable book.

It’s the story of the Selma, Alabama marches in 1965 as told through the eyes of the children and teenagers that were involved. Partridge’s words and photographs from the time paint a vivid picture of the stories of these children, their parents, and the general plight of African Americans in the south before the mid-60s. The sacrifice that these people made to get what many people now take for granted is awe-inspiring. Sure, the civil rights leaders show up — Dr. King, Rosa Parks, among others — but the real heart and soul of the book are the children that faced the billy clubs, cattle prods, tear gas, and were consistently arrested and rearrested. It’s enough to bring one to tears.

Honestly, two thoughts kept going through my mind while I was reading. First was that I think that this book couldn’t come at a better time. Sure, it was 40 years ago, but I think we need to constantly be reminded of, and remember to teach our children about, the sacrifices that were made. I think — and this just may be me talking — that we tend to become apathetic about what we have, and forget all the people that worked to make it all possible.

Second was that if I wasn’t a voter, I’d be very ashamed. In fact, the next time someone tells me they don’t vote, I’m going to hand them this book. It’s a right, it’s a privilege, and — dang it — we should take advantage of that.

Enough soapbox. The book really is worth your time.

The Darwins’ Leap of Faith
by Deborah Heligman
ages: 12+
First sentence: “In the summer of 1838, in his rented rooms on Great Marlborough Street, London, Charles Darwin drew a line down the middle of a piece of scrap paper.”
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I’ve read a couple of books on Darwin and his theory — not enough to consider myself in any way an expert (or even incredibly interested) — but this one took an approach that intrigued me. It’s not so much about Darwin, his history and his theory, as it is about Darwin and his relationship with his wife, Emma, and their constant tension between her belief in religion and his belief in science.

It’s a fascinating story — the ebb and flow of their relationship, anchored in their love and respect for each other, as well as respect for their philosophical differences. It’s fascinating because it humanizes Darwin (he’s too often demonized!), as well as puts his evolutionary theory in context with his life and the times. The book isn’t preachy: both religion and science are given fair time, and its possible, I think, to see how the two could compliment each other, as Charles and Emma did. Most of all, though, I think it champions free-thinking, accepting differing opinions as just that: differing opinions. I think, too often, that we forget that people can still be likable, even if we disagree with them strongly. And this is a story of two people who disagreed and yet loved each other.

On top of that, the book is really very well written. It’s aimed toward a younger crowd, and so was a bit simpler and choppier in areas than I would have liked. But, if it gets young people interested in Darwin, and gives them a reasonable base for the study of evolution and science, then it’s done its job. And, the fact that it’s an interesting story is just an added bonus.