I missed the final day of BBAW last Friday (something about a birthday…), and so didn’t get to muse about my goals for the future.

It also means that I’ve had a bit more time to think about it.

I have often wondered — sometimes with more angst than others — about where I fit in here in the book blogosphere. I’m not quite an adult book blogger, but I’m not quite a kidlit one, either. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up with blogging altogether, and other times I wonder if I should put in the effort to work at branding myself, finding that niche and working it for all its worth. I signed up for Twitter last year (nominally because my oldest did, but then I found out that all my bloggy friends were hanging out over there, too), and I sometimes wonder if I’m utilizing it — or Facebook — the way I should.

After thinking about all this, and stressing, and wondering, I came to a conclusion: this blog is, primarily, for me. I don’t get paid to do it. If I’m not enjoying what I do, then there’s really no point. So, if I work really hard at pushing my blog so I get readers, if I retool it so I have a niche, why am I doing it? To be more accepted the community? So I’m more popular? So I can get more free books?

Sure, but why?

There’s no reason I can see that ultimately will benefit me. I don’t want to change my reading habits; I enjoy reading broadly, and while I have a preference for children’s and YA books, I don’t want to restrict my blogging to just about them. I have a reputation for being honest in my reviews, which is something I value about myself. I actually don’t want more free books; while it’s kind of fun to be on the forefront of all the latest trends, I like supporting my local library, and I like the freedom to go with my whims.

So, the goals I’ve come up with for the next little while: I’m not going to stress over readers and followers and numbers. I’m going to write the reviews for myself. I’m going to read what I want, slowing down — why do I need to read over 100 books a year, anyway? It’s not a contest — and indulging in rereading (which I’ve done this year, and found that I really enjoy). I’m going to comment when I have something to say, and not as a way to drive traffic to my blog. I’m going to not worry about “utilizing” the social media, and use them for the purpose that they were meant for: to be social, and as a way to connect with people who have similar interests (or in the case of Facebook, friends old and new) and as a way to find out new and fun and fascinating things. Or to just have a good laugh.

In short: I’m going to find the enjoyment I used to have in blogging. And I’m going to be a fan of all the wonderful bookish things there are out there. If I can’t find that, then after nearly six years, there’s really not much point in keeping it up, anymore.

On Thursday, I put up a review that was essentially a rant about three little words: To Be Continued.

What I was trying to get at was the frustration I feel at the cliff-hanger endings that those three words represent. As a couple commenters put it in the original post, I have no problem with series where the story goes from one book to the next. What I have a problem with is books — and this seems to only happen in middle grade books — where the story, the action, just stops.

I’ve thought about series a lot since I finished Mockingjay, actually. About what makes a series good for me, especially. But also, what makes series books appealing. The second one is easy: I think a lot of it has to do with familiarity, and revisiting characters we love. There are times, true, when it’s the story that keeps us coming back for the next book — Hunger Games is an obvious example, as is Harry Potter: it’s the characters, yes, but Collins and Rowling also wrote stories that kept us wondering — and talking about — what happens next.

And yet, they are also two examples — Percy Jackson is a third — where each book could stand on its own. They’re part of a larger story, yes, and it’s best to read them in order. But each individual story has a beginning, a middle, and most importantly, and end. Each story comes to its own conclusion while keeping us intrigued as to where the larger story is going.

Sure, there are other ways to handle a series — Narnia and Wrinkle in Time are two examples that I can think of where it’s familiar characters having new adventures in each book (again: an ending!) — but whatever way it’s managed, and for however long the series goes on (though, honestly, I think if a series goes beyond say, 5 books — or doesn’t have any foreseeable ending — then it’s just the author not being able to come up with any new ideas. Is that harsh of me?), the books must — MUST — have a unique ending.

What do you think: do you have any strong opinions on series books?

I’ve been rereading Under the Tuscan Sun, enjoying it as much as I did the first time around. I am finding myself savoring the language, and feeling myself being pulled to Italy, to slow down, stay a while and enjoy the language, the landscape and the food. (I am also finding myself wishing there was more than one sense employed when reading; I want to touch, smell, and hear this book as well!). I don’t normally consider myself an Italy person (preferring France and England and China in my literary pursuits), but this book is written well enough that it pulls me there.

When they arrive it will be the soft, slow Tuscan twilight, fading after drinks from transparent to golden to evening blue, then, by the end of the first course, into night. Night happens uickly, as though the sun were pulled in one motion under the hill. We light candles in hurricane shades all along the stone wall and on the table. For background music, a hilarious chorus of frogs tunes up. Molte anni fa, many years ago, our friends began. Their stories weave an Italy around us that we know only through books an films.

This book demands you slow down, you enjoy the prose, you savor each moment as it unfolds.

Which has got me thinking about savoring. Too often, and sometimes with good cause, I find myself propelling through books, either because I’m clamoring for the next development in the story or because I just want to finish it. I vary rarely slow down and enjoy the scenery, so to speak.

I’m not sure I’d want to do it all the time, but I find that right now, in these lazy late summer afternoons, this is what I really need. You could say that I’m savoring it.

Is there a particular book (or books or genre or author) that just demands you savor?

We just got back from vacation about a week ago, and I’ve found myself musing over my reading habits.

While on vacation, I managed to read 5 1/2 books. Since we’ve been home, only 2. I think a lot depended on where we went: we went to my in-laws’ house, a place with much to do for the children (and a lot of cousins to run around with), and my girls are old enough that they really don’t need much supervision at all. (Though I think K watched the same 3 movies the whole time!) So, I was left with lots of time on my hands to read as much as I want.

It’s interesting, though: Hubby went on the same vacation to the same place and didn’t even get through one book. Perhaps it was because it was his family; he spent his time chatting with his brothers (and playing D&D), not sitting on the couch, reading.

All this makes me wonder, though: do you read more when you’re on vacation, or less? What kinds of books do you take? If it all “depends”, what does it depend on?

I’m interested to hear your thoughts.

We needed to stop at Powell’s, right?

The girls were amazed: it’s a whole block, there are that many kids books? How are we going to choose??

Well, we managed (to choose, that is), and this is what we got:

And I picked up this, which I’ve coveted for years!

Hooray for bookstores!

Sherry at Semicolon did this last week, and while, like her, I am not an author, I am a bit of a list-maker, and for some reason this exercise — to come up with a list of things that fascinate me, inspire me, and I can never seem to get enough of reading about — caught my fancy. Sherry did 52, which impresses me to no end, but I found it was a stretch for me even to come up with 25. Maybe I’m not all that fascinated in things? Or maybe just a few things really take up my time? At any rate, here’s my list:

1. Food, subcategory nonfiction — Books about the growing of food, the making of food, the selling of food.
2. Food, subcategory memoirs — especially those in the food service industry
3. Food, subcategory fiction — books like Garden Spells, where it’s very evocative with the food. Magical realism helps.
4. Food, subcategory cooking — I love to cook, and while I’m not as experimental as I could be, I do love to make and eat a well-made meal.
5. Travel. Memoirs of people who have traveled, experienced most any place throughout the world. But I specifically love…
6. France — the language, the food, the culture, living in France and…
7. The UK — love the English stories, love the Irish stories, love the Welsh stories (even though I can’t pronounce the words!), love the Scottish stories. Love the history, the culture, and the accents.
8. Memoirs — I like hearing other people’s personal stories, not just travel stories. I especially like them when they’re interesting and well-written.
9. Strong girl characters. What makes these girls strong, and how they tackle what the world gives them.
10. Beauty and body image. It may be tough for me to read about, but I feel a need to know, especially with raising four girls.
11. Friendship — both same- and opposite-sex. How do people become friends, how do they stay friends, what’s involved.
12. Family dynamics — issues of parenting, yes, but also sibling dynamics. How and why do they (or do they not) get along.
13. The King Arthur legend and mythology. I’m not quite sure what the draw is, but I love this story.
14. England’s Renaissance (an offshoot of #7) — from the Tudors through Elizabethian times — the culture, the time period, Shakespeare
15. Folklore — not just King Arthur (though his legend in particular), but all the stories that are handed down in any particular place. I especially like Asian folk tales.
16. Oral Histories — it’s kind of like #8… the personal stories of the past, the things that didn’t quite make the history books, but give us a flavor for the world. (Like These is My Words.)
17. Fairy tales — original adaptations of traditional tales, mostly, but I’m curious any retelling of any fairy tale
18. Religions — not so much Christianity, since I consider myself one, but rather other religions. I’m curious about them, their beliefs, and their philosophies of life. And this goes for “made up” religions, as well.
19. Humor — what makes me laugh, does it live up to the “hype”, and especially when there’s a balance between the inane and the brilliant.
20. Women’s roles in society — how they’ve changed over the centuries, what makes a “strong” woman, issues of feminism.
21. Good storytelling — when an author — doesn’t matter if it’s fantasy, or realistic, YA/MG or adult — gives us a good tale, with characters that are worth spending time with.
22. Jacket Flap Copy — in my dream world, I would love to have a job writing jacket flap copy (and on the side, I’d be a pastry chef). What makes good copy, what draws one in to the book.
23. Photography. What makes a good photograph? And the act of capturing history or beauty fascinates me.
24. Architecture — I’m not a student of it, but looking at beautifully made buildings, from old houses to new skyscrapers, fascinates me.
25. Dance — I suppose this is an offshoot of #10, but I love to watch people dance, to see the way dancing interprets the music (which I also love). I also love to move my body, though I rarely do so in public anymore (though perhaps I should?).

So, those are mine. What are some of yours?

I spend so much time gushing about my daughters on here, and not enough time gushing about my husband, wonderful as he is. I should do that more.

So, I thought, for Father’s Day, that I’d tackle my Hubby, the reader. He tells me he’s not as “well-read” as I am, but, truly: he is. He came to the marriage with boxes and boxes of books (regular as well as comic books), and there are many books — Watership Down, the Mary Stewart Merlin Trilogy, as well as A Prayer for Owen Meany among others — that I wouldn’t have even bothered to look at, let alone read if it weren’t for him. Sure, his reading tastes these days tend toward the scholarly (though his post on Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows was linked to over at NPR), but that’s just because his profession demands it. (And we have an unspoken agreement: I don’t read philosophy, he doesn’t read Jane Austen, and we’re all happy.) And, even now, we’ll see him around the house with his nose in a book (or reading online). It’s part of who he is, and what our family is.

But what I really love about him is that he loves to read to our girls. Specifically, the Harry Potter books, but ever since Megan was about four, he’s taken over the duty of reading chapter books to the girls. (For a while there, I read chapter books to C while he read to A; I don’t remember why that worked, but it did. He’s back on the job, now.) I’m glad that he finds satisfaction in that ritual, that he doesn’t mind rereading the Harry Potter series through over and over (going through the third time, now, not counting his own reading of it), and that he cares about books and reading enough to help me instill the same love in our daughters.

And while I’m mentioning the men in my life, I need to mention my dad. He’s a reader, too. It’s not something I remember growing up, but as I’ve gotten older, it’s something I’ve noticed about my dad: he reads. Quite a bit, too. In fact, every time I see him, he’s gushing about something new he’s read or is listening to on audio book on his commute. I know he lurks around my blog, getting suggestions, because every once in a while he’ll drop me an email telling me how much he loved a book I’d recommended (most recently it was The Graveyard Book) and asking me for other suggestions (I don’t know if he follows them, but he asks, and I appreciate that). I love being able to share this with my father.

Happy Father’s Day!

So, driving around town a week or so ago, I saw this sign:

And my first reaction was “ARGH!! REALLY??” But then I got to thinking about it… we, for the most part, like our kids (and I hold this to myself, generally speaking) to read the book before they see the movie. That’s how we got C to actually read the Harry Potter series; she saw Goblet of Fire and said (honestly), “Why do I need to read the book now?” So we made her read Order of the Phoenix first before she could see the movie. (She’s now determined to make it through the next two before November so she can see Deathly Hallows in the Theater.) But, I’ve been wondering: is that rule worth it? Is is really that important that one read the book before they see the movie? (Or — brace yourself — even read the book at all?)

See, books and movies are different beasts, and I’m wondering if it’s silly to get so attached to the book and then disappointed in the movie. Sometimes — not always, but sometimes — the movie can do things better than the book. But, either way, is it really important that we experience the book first?

What do you think? Book, movie, both: and which should come first?