Grab Bag Friday: Horn Book Awards

Tonight is the awards ceremony for the 2010 Boston Globe-Horn Book Awards for children's literature. The illustrious award  and honor winners will receive their prizes and give their acceptances speeches...and guess what? Because I'll be an attendee at the Horn Book Colloquium at Simmons College this weekend, I get to go!

For me, getting to listen to Rebecca Stead and Peter Sis and Elizabeth Partridge talk, well, that's better than the Oscars. I'll fill you in on all the details next week. In the meantime, here are links to past blog posts I've written about some of the books that will be honored tonight:

Rebecca Stead, When You Reach Me (2010 Horn Book Fiction winner)

Elizabeth Partridge, Marching for Freedom: Walk Together Children and Don't You Grow Weary (2010 Horn Book Non-Fiction Winner)

Pam Munoz Ryan, illustrated by Peter Sis, The Dreamer (2010 Honor Book); more on my Peter Sis infatuation here

Lester Young: Polkadots and Moonbeams

It's a quiet, gray, rainy morning here in Maine. The kind of early fall morning that makes me long for a blanket, a cup of hot tea, and the smooth tone of Lester Young's saxophone.

Here's Lester Young ("Prez") playing on some kind of American Idol-style show where viewers could call in to vote for the best jazz solo of the evening. Now that's my kind of reality TV!

The song he's playing, "Polkadots and Moonbeams," was one of my grandparents' favorite songs. Papa used to call Nana his "pug-nosed dream" based on the schmoopy/sweet lyrics, and Prez makes it sound even sweeter on his sax. To tell the truth (and these may be fighting words in some locales), I do believe Lester Young is my favorite saxophone player of all time.

[Side note: In the comments of this video, viewers note that this was recorded in '57 or '58. Lester Young died of liver disease in '59 and he suffered very badly from the disease for the last two years of his life. It's amazing to me that he was likely very ill when this was taped, and while his notes are sometimes tired, the soul and feeling is still 100% there.]

Lester Young: Polkadots and Moonbeams

Banned Books Week: Celebrating the Freedom to Read!

Young Adult author Jo Knowles has started a meme in honor of Banned Books Week. Here's how it goes:

1. Go find your favorite banned book.
2. Take a picture of yourself with said book.
3. Give that book some love by explaining why you think it is an important book.
4. Post it to your blog.
5. Spread the word!

Fair warning: I'm going to get around to this in a meandering, probably long, somewhat non-sequitur way.

When I was a kid, my parents had strict rules about what my siblings and I could read, watch, or listen to (witchcraft, magic, monsters, and violence were high on the censored list) and I was an extremely obedient child. While my siblings would sneak a little AC/DC, lie to my parents about a movie they were going to see, or "accidentally" lose notes meant for a teacher, I was a different breed.

I remember vividly the dozens of times I walked, red-faced and heart-pounding, to the front of the classroom to quietly tell the teacher I wasn't allowed to read the book that had been chosen. As a result, I read Robinson Crusoe instead of Lord of the Flies, sat out in the hall while the kids watched Dungeons and Dragons during a special library treat, and skipped music class on the days they sang songs about Halloween (though I got to know the lyrics pretty well since kids would sing them to me tauntingly over recess..."oooooo Witches' Brew...").

I didn't mind the ridicule from my classmates because I was being a good girl. I was following the rules, doing the right thing. But I was a voracious reader and I *did* mind missing out on the books.

Most painful in my mind is the time I brought Edgar Eager's Half Magic home from the library. I must have been in third grade or so because in our school library, K-2 kids were only allowed to check out picture books and easy readers. Our librarian didn't want us to be tempted by anything that wasn't "age-appropriate" (oh, how I coveted the novels in the big kids' section!) I'd convinced myself that since the coin Jane finds in Mr. Eager's book is only half magic, it would be okay to read. Besides, the book was full of adventure and historical (and hysterical!) hijinks. I'd picked it up and I couldn't put it down. But when my mom came up to tuck me in that night and found me reading the book, she was livid. I closed the book and tearfully promised to return it the next day.

That night was the longest night of my 8-year-old life. I couldn't sleep because my brain was working out the following logic: a) I'd checked out a book about magic, b) books about magic were evil, c) I liked the book about magic, so d) I was evil. I felt horrible. Even worse, knowing that it was evil, I still wanted to find out what happened to Jane and her siblings in King Arthur's Court. Further proof that I was evil. In an extraordinary feat of will power, mostly to prove to myself that I could still be good if I tried, I cried myself to sleep and returned the book.

Two important things happened after that that changed my life.

The first was that I became good friends with Mrs. Letherman, an elderly friend of the family who had a summer cabin on our road. Every week, I would ride my bike to her house and help weed her garden. After gardening, we'd drink chamomile tea and talk about books. Her cabin walls were covered from floor to ceiling with books. And Mrs. Letherman gave me an unfathomable gift: she told me that as long as I was at her house, I was allowed to read anything on her shelves. Anything. "Even if it's too old for me?" I asked, my eyes probably popping out of my head looking at all those books. She thought that was a ridiculous question.

Being the consummate good girl, I still tried to choose books my mother would approve of, but still. The fact that an adult had opened that door, had trusted me with every piece of knowledge she had, meant something huge to me.

Years later, the second important thing happened: I read The Lord of the Rings. This was probably the first time I blatantly ignored my parents rules about reading. I was fifteen. I picked up the first book knowing it was against the rules. I read it anyway. At home. In front of my parents. And when my mother threatened to throw it away, I took to keeping the paperback on my person (in the back pocket of my baggy jeans), guarding it at all times.

I'd been told the trilogy was satanic (the same reason a church in New Mexico gave when they burned the trilogy as recently as 2001), but I didn't see anything satanic about it at all. Here was a story about loyalty and friendship, about choosing truth and goodness over evil, about love and poetry and courage. While I read, I felt my worldview shaking. This was not an evil book. It was perhaps the most un-evil book I'd ever read. So what did that mean about the rest? Bridge to Terabithia, and Lord of the Flies, and countless other books I'd missed out on over the years?

I resolved, over the pages of J.R.R. Tolkien's masterpiece, to always read what I wanted to read and make up my own mind about the content, whatever the consequences. To this day, I believe that The Lord of the Rings taught me to think critically, question my own beliefs, and always strive to be a better human being. I'm grateful every day for the freedom to read. For public libraries and for all of the librarians and teachers out there who fight to provide access to all kinds of books for all kinds of readers.

Post script: Thankfully, my mom did eventually make her peace with Tolkien. He was a Catholic, after all, and friends with C.S. Lewis who is the perfect born-again role model (though for most of my life, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was also banned from our house...witches and magic and all). And some of my defiance wore off. My younger sisters were allowed to read Harry Potter without threats of ripping out the pages, so I like to think I was responsible for a little progress here and there.

Post-post script: I did get to finish Half Magic, eventually. On my 21st birthday, my dear friend Amy gave me a copy. It was every bit as good as I remembered it.

Information on Banned Books Week can be found at the ALA.

Now it's your turn...what is your favorite banned book? Here are a few great ones to choose from:

Grab Bag Friday: Handcrafted Guitars

My friend Carter Ruff just put up a lovely new website for his custom guitar business: Subterranean Music Works. Carter's guitars sound beautiful and are made with impressive old-fashioned care and attention to detail.

If you or anyone you know is in the market for a gorgeous, hand-crafted, custom built guitar (or if you just want to see pictures of the guitar-making process), please stop by the new website and check things out.

As long as you're at it, you might also take a gander at some of Carter's music...The Half Moon Jug Band is a blast.

Haberdashery Ensemble: Kitarto Reka

Kevin and I went to see this fantastic band over the weekend. I love it when musicians mix completely unexpected styles together. The Haberdashery Ensemble (an uber-talented trio based out of L.A.) played this crazy-wonderful mix of traditional Hungarian/Eastern European gypsy music with jazz and classical elements thrown in. And just when you felt like you were getting settled in, they'd mix it up with something wild like a haunting Danny Elfman tune, or a heartbreakingly beautiful version of a Beatles song, or even nuttier, a cover of YMCA (yes, the one and only). In a word, it was awesome. If they are ever playing in your area, you should go!

Haberdashery Ensemble: Kitarto Reka

Tough Issues in KidLit

I've been following two very interesting, worthwhile discussions in the kidlit blogosphere today. Both have been discussed before but deserve revisiting from time to time:

#1: What to Do About Classic Children's Books that are Racist?
Monica Edinger (and Phil Nel via link) tackle the issue of how to deal with racism in classic children's literature. Should we forbid kids to read the original versions of well-loved books like Mary Poppins or Dr. Doolittle because of the obvious and offensive racism that exists in the novels? Should we allow them to read only the "updated" versions of these texts? Or allow them to read the originals, but only with supervision and discussion? Very tricky. Very interesting. Very thoughtful insights by Edinger, Nel, and the many folks who have commented on their posts.

#2: What Is the Opposite of "Clean"?
Young Adult author Jo Knowles discusses the problem of classifying books that don't contain sex or swears as "clean." She writes, "I know the people who make "CLEAN BOOKS" lists are well intentioned. This is not an attack or accusation. It's a plea for all of us to think about the potential power of our words." There are many amazing, important books for children and teens that deal with tough issues, and I agree that it can be dangerous to think of these books as lesser because a swear word or difficult content prevent them from showing up on a "clean books" list. It's even more dangerous to start thinking of them, as Knowles notes, as the opposite of "clean." Again, her blog post as well as the insightful comments give much food for thought.

Grab Bag Friday: Be Baba Leba

Apparently, the start of school and the novel I'm working on are taking up so much space in my brain that I can't remember anything else in my life. The other day, I walked out of the house and got all the way to the car before I realized I was wearing my fuzzy slippers instead of shoes!

So here is the video I was planning to post on Wednesday and completely forgot about. Since I've been following kind of a chain reaction of music videos, from Cathedrals to Hootin the Blues to The Blues Ain't Nothin But a Woman (with a brief vocal bit by Helen Humes), I thought I'd move on to one of Helen Humes' big hits.

As I mentioned last week, Helen Humes started recording when she was 14 years old, and in 1938, she took Billie Holiday's spot in the Count Basie orchestra (Lady Day was just starting to see a big rise in popularity and moved on to sing with Artie Shaw; she recorded "Strange Fruit" in 1939). Now, I always wondered what that must have been like, being the girl that came after Billie Holiday. A lot of people would find that more than a little intimidating. How do you fill those shoes? How could you possibly measure up?

But that's what I like so much about Helen Humes. She didn't really seem to care. I've read some interviews with her and she seems like she really just wanted to have a good job, sing, and have fun. She turned down Count Basie's first offer because she didn't want to travel a lot and he was offering her less money than she was making in Harry James' sweet band. (As a big band snob, I think What kind of crazy person would choose Harry James over Count Basie? Who cares about money at a time like this?) But she wasn't trying to be a star in the way so many girl singers were. Anyway, enough talk. Here she is with Dizzy Gillespie's orchestra in about 1947.

Helen Humes: Be Baba Leba

Jane Yolen: Take Joy!

This morning, I am working hard to finish up one more revision of my novel. Skimming through my notebook, I found a quote I had written down from Jane Yolen's book on writing, Take Joy: A Writer's Guide to Loving the Craft. Jane Yolen has been an inspiration to me since I was teenager, so I thought I'd pass this on to you.

"So here's a wish from the Winter Queen for all of you: May you choose well those things to carry you into the even tide of your own lives. Make a raft of those choices, a raft that will slip easily through stormy seas, where the waves are wild and bright with foam. And may you come at last, as I have, to safe harbor and a welcoming shore with many books to hand, those you have written and those you hope to have time still to read."

I love the idea of making a raft of our choices. It's an interesting way to think about decisions as we all head toward that even tide. Will this sustain me? Will this travel well? And the welcoming shore with many books to hand? Now, that's my idea of heaven!

Grab Bag Friday: Continuing to Peep After the Frogs Go to Sleep

This summer, my sister-in-law Ellen Crow added her lovely voice (or peep, as you will see in this week's post) to the blogosphere. Her new blog, the earth is my journal and the ink is my breath (the title is from a Jeannine Parvati Baker quote) is a lovely set of musings on life, work, nature, and spirit. This week, I loved her description of a spruce tree filled with birds:

"It sounded at first like an enchanted rain, in which songs were trapped in each droplet, bursting open with music as they broke over branch and trickled down through the gray air."

Then later, she compares the birds in the overfull tree to the millions of voices online and contemplates her place in the online landscape:

"If this online land we've mutually created suddenly sounded, it's murmur rising above the pecking of my keys, resonant with millions of voices, humid with emotion, a storm cloud promising life, thunder, release . . . I imagine some corner of this land would light up like the spruce this morning, voluminous with invisible minstrels, and it would because we gather, and peep, squawk, or trickle out our particular verse for this particular moment on our particular path."

Reading Ellen's blog forces me to take a moment to slow down, think quietly, and breathe. I hope you'll stop by, say hello, and add your own peep to her world.

The Blues Ain't Nothin but a Woman...

September's a bit of a theme month, I guess. In last week's search for the Terry & McGhee song "Jump Little Children," I came across this live performance of "The Blues Ain't Nothin' but a Woman." Brownie McGhee, Sonny Terry, Helen Humes, Willie Dixon, and Memphis Slim all on vocals? So sweet.

I discovered Helen Humes in high school when I was on a real Count Basie kick and have been a fan of her sweet, girlish tone ever since. Humes started singing as a teenager and joined Harry James' Orchestra pretty early on. She replaced Billie Holiday as the girl singer in Count Basie's band in the late '30s.

Hmmm...I guess next week, I'll have to post some Helen Humes!

The Blues Ain't Nothin' but a Woman:

James Wright: Autumn Begins In Martins Ferry, Ohio

Happy Labor Day, all!

Football season has officially arrived and Kevin will likely spend Labor Day morning watching yesterday's Tivo'd Notre Dame game (no spoilers, please). Football season means weekends change drastically in our house, and believe me, this used to be a big point of contention. I've never been a football fan or understood the desire to sit in front of the TV for hours on end on what is often a beautiful weekend day.

Until, with true Midwestern lemons-into-lemonade determination, I decided to train myself to write on football Sundays.

I've never been the kind of writer who can work with noise of any sort. No music, no movement, nothing. But for the last couple seasons, I've forced myself to write during football. Now, when the game starts, I type away with the roar of the crowd in the background and tasty football snacks within reach. Kevin can occasionally yell out "watch this play!" and I can ask "what do you think of this line?" He gets his game, I get some pages done, and all in all it's a lovely Sunday (or Saturday) afternoon. Go team!

In honor of the season, here is a James Wright poem I adore:

Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
by James Wright

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.

Concert in Damariscotta Tonight!

Tonight, I'll be the featured performer at the Round Top Coffee House open mic at Round Top Barn (formerly known as Round Top Center for the Arts.) This coffee house is super cozy and friendly, and most importantly, there is delicious ice cream very very nearby (see directions below). I hope to see you there! (Earl is *not* invited!)

Round Top Coffee House
Damariscotta, Maine
6:30 open mic; 8:30-9:30 featured performer (that's me!)
Price: $6, $3 seniors, 12 & under free

Directions: US Rte. 1B in Damariscotta, next to Round Top Ice Cream. There is ample parking.

Volunteers are needed to provide additional baked goods fr the show and will earn free admission!

For more information, call Heather Hardy or Jason Anthony at 677-2354 or the DRA at 563-1393.

Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee: Hootin' the Blues

Last week, I posted about Jump, Little Children's beautiful song Cathedrals, and since their band name was based on a Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee song, I planned to track down a video of that and post it. Alas, no video is to be found. Here is a link to the mp3 instead.

And all is not lost. Check out this awesome video of Terry & McGhee playing "Hootin' the Blues" on an old 1960's broadcast of Pete Seeger's Rainbow Quest. Hootin' indeed!

Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee: Hootin' the Blues

Okay, I'm Done With Mockingjay. Now what?

I won't spoil anything for you here. I just want to decompress and reflect in a very non-spoiler-ish way. I'd love to hear what you thought, too (and spoilers are okay in the comments, just know they might be there).

I read Mockingjay as slowly as I could possibly manage because I knew when I was done, it would really, truly be over. No more Capitol, no more Katniss, no more Peeta. Sigh. But the thing about Suzanne Collins is that she makes it impossible to read slowly. She is a master of the cliffhanger, the chapter ending that manipulates your brain so that even though you can hardly keep your eyes open, you physically cannot put the book down. I think that's why so many adults have taken to this series. When is the last time you found yourself so caught up in a book that everything else but the need to know WHAT HAPPENS NEXT fades into the ether? The dishes, the laundry, the bills all disappear and it is just you and the story.

As a kid, I was always so absorbed in whatever book I was reading that my mom would have to call me to dinner five times and then physically drag me to the table. To me, reading The Hunger Games is like getting to be a kid again. But not in a puppy dogs, lollipops, and rainbows way. Death, destruction, cynicism, and manipulation are all over these books. It's a dystopian trilogy, after all. But I love that Ms. Collins doesn't forget to give us glimmers of hope for humanity. She doesn't forget to make her characters complex. We're not allowed to fall into the easy Good vs. Evil/Rah-Rah-/Team default. War is messy. It's confusing. She paints it that way.

Is the trilogy heavy handed at times? Of course. Is the final book perfect? Not really. Does it matter? I don't think so. In fact, absolutely not.

After I read the first two books in the Hunger Games series (my original comments are here), I could rest easy, knowing there was more to come. I could excitedly mark my calendar for August 24th and wait for it like Christmas. But now, for better or for worse, the game is over. And I'm sad that it is, but satisfied with the way it ended. I think that means Suzanne Collins did her job. Very well, I might add.

Grab Bag Friday: One More Reason Why I Love Summer in Maine

THIS is my walk into town (photo by C Hanchey):

Jump Little Children: Cathedrals

Last weekend, Kevin and I took a beautiful drive up to Boothbay Harbor, Maine to sit and watch the sailboats come in and out of the harbor. On the drive up, "Cathedrals" came on the radio and, as usual, stunned me into silence.

This is one of those songs. I've never owned it. I had to look up who wrote it for this post. Turns out, it's by a now-defunct band called Jump, Little Children (the name of a very cool Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee song...maybe more on that next week). Yet, every time I hear it, I hush. I turn up the radio. I feel a swelling in my chest. Every time.

It's the melody. The slow build. The beautiful cello. But it's also the lyrics.

I once spent a summer in Bologna with my grandmother's cousins. My "aunt" Paola (really a cousin some times removed) insisted that we go to Rome. She took me on the train and we spent the day in hot, crowded lines looking at the all the beautiful architecture and breathtaking murals. It was a strange feeling, being in the presence of such awe-inspiring history and art in the middle of a crushing, Disney-like mass of people. We entered the Sistine Chapel and were literally pushed by the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, from one end of the building to the other, necks craning to take in the view as we were jostled out the door. I felt small. I felt wonder. I felt overloaded. I worried about my purse.

Mostly, the experience gave me a profound and inexplicable feeling of loneliness, almost of loss. A longing for home, in the truest, non-locational sense of the word. And somehow this short song by Jump, Little Children captures all of that. So simply. So beautifully.

Jump, Little Children: Cathedrals (live at the Music Farm, 2002)



In the shadows of tall buildings
Of fallen angels on the ceilings
Oily feathers in bronze and concrete
Faded colors, pieces left incomplete
The line moves slowly past the electric fence
Across the borders between continents

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling that you should just go home
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is

In the shadows of tall buildings
The architecture is slowly peeling
Marble statues and glass dividers
Someone is watching all of the outsiders
The line moves slowly through the numbered gate
Past the mosaic of the head of state

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling that you should just go home
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is

In the shadows of tall buildings
Of open arches endlessly kneeling
Sonic landscapes echoing vistas
Someone is listening from a safe distance
The line moves slowly into a fading light
A final moment in the dead of the night

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling that you should just go home
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is

Suzanne Collins: Mockingjay!

Eeeeeee...August 24th is tomorrow! Cue fan-girl squeals and much anticipatory silliness.

Seriously. Don't try to call me.

Mockingjay book trailer:

Summer Blog Reruns: Another Secretary Gag

Another blog rerun for a busy week. It's true. I heart Candid Camera.

Back in September, I confessed my love for a certain goofy television series and mentioned a Woody Allen bit that I couldn't find on YouTube. Well guess what I found? I *love* this woman's reactions to his dictation. Ah, high comedy.



(If you're reading from Facebook, here's the link)

Summer Blog Rerun: Lean on Me by Bill Withers

I'm working furiously on a revision of my novel this week, so here is another blog rerun. I taught the kids in my Songwriting for Kids class this song again this year...they loved singing the bridge, of course!

Ever since I can remember, Bill Withers' Lean on Me has been one of my favorite songs. My brother and sisters and I used to sing it constantly--on car trips, while doing the dishes--getting especial pleasure from the "Call on me brother, if you need a hand" line (which is still the most fun part to sing).

I remember sitting with my brother at the old upright piano in my grandparent's guest cabin trying to figure out the chords while my mother talked about the bear she'd seen through the window. (Yes, my grandparent's guest cabin had one dusty bed, no running water, and an outhouse, but of course there was a piano. My grandmother will always be the a-house-is-not-a-home-without-music type of soul.)

The thing I love about this song is how it captures our innate, human tendency to feel like we are alone in this world. When hard times come (and boy, do they), we often try to shoulder the burdens on our own, either because we think it's heroic to "soldier on," or we don't want to bother anyone, or we just don't think anyone cares.

But the song reminds us of something we need to try very hard not to forget: we are all in this together. We need to swallow our fear and pride and acknowledge that we all need someone to lean on every once in a while. And then, we need to reach out a hand.

Here is a great live version of Bill Withers singing Lean on Me (listen closely to the lyrics, they're so simple, but they're creative genius):



Lean on Me
by Bill Withers
Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me

So just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you'd understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
Till I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Lean on me...

Summer Blog Reruns: Rules by Cynthia Lord

This week, I'm working hard on a revision of my novel, so I'm going to take a break and do a few blog reruns. In honor of Cynthia Lord's new book Touch Blue coming out this month, here is a rerun about her first book.

Rules by Cynthia Lord: Originally posted June 11, 2007

I know that I'm behind the times. It's been well over a year since Cynthia Lord's book Rules came out, and about six months since it received the American Library Association's prestigious Newbery Honor Award for her "distinguished contribution to American literature for children." My favorite kidlit bloggers published their thoughtful, insightful reviews ages ago. And I just read the book this weekend.

Rules, simply put, is a story of a young girl trying to find her place in family, friendships, and life, while also figuring out how to deal with her younger brother's autism and all the unusual pressure and demand that condition can put on a family. This may not sound like light reading, but Cynthia Lord's humor and honesty and real, three-dimensional characters make the chapters fly by and you hardly want to put the book down. (As evidenced by this Sunday morning when my husband said, "Let's make pancakes!"...which is usually enough to make me drop whatever I'm doing and immediately dash for the kitchen...and instead I mumbled absently, "Mmmm...maybe after I finish this chapter. Or the next.")

I don't want to say much because you really should just read it, but here is one of the details I loved most about this book:

Catherine, the main character, is constantly writing rules for her brother, David, so "at least he'll know how the world works, and I won't have to keep explaining." Some of Catherine's life rules include:

• If someone says "hi," you say "hi" back.
• Not everything worth keeping has to be useful.
• No toys in the fish tank.
• Pantless brothers are not my problem.

While some of these rules are written out of adolescent frustration, there are some rules that are incredibly poignant and show a real, deep love. For instance, David often has trouble finding words to express himself, so Catherine writes him these two rules:

• If you don't have the words you need, borrow someone else's.
• If you need to borrow words, Arnold Lobel wrote some good ones.

So throughout the book, Catherine and David, quote to each other from Andrew Lobel's Frog and Toad books, almost like a secret language between brother and sister.

"Dad's still coming," I say. "Late doesn't mean not coming."

But those words don't help. So I reach over, wipe away his tear with the side of my thumb, and say the only words I know will calm him: "'Frog, you are looking quite green.'"

David sniffles. "'But I always look green,' said Frog. 'I am a frog.'"

This is what makes the book so lovely. The relationships. The very real, honest quality of Catherine's interactions with her brother, her father, the new girl next door, the boy she meets in the waiting room of David's occupational therapy appointments. This is not a drama about how difficult it is to live with autism. This is a book about growing up. About families. And as Cynthia Lord (who lives in Maine!) wrote on her website (totally worth checking out) in answer to a 5th grader's question about why she chose to write about autism:

Life is long and challenges come into every family, even if you don’t start life with them. RULES is about accepting there is value in everything, even in imperfection. Sometimes things can’t be changed, but you can change your feelings about them.

According to Booklist, Rules is geared for grades 4-7, but I think there's something here for all ages. I think a younger child would enjoy having this read out loud, and obviously I enjoyed reading it as an adult. (I did eventually get to those pancakes, too!)

Grab Bag Friday: Blackberry Crisp

After all that blackberry picking last weekend, it's been a bit of a blackberry theme week. Yum! This crisp recipe was SO delicious. I got it off the Rachel Ray website, then modified it (reduced the sugar, eliminated the sunflower seeds...in a crisp? is she serious?) until it was just right. (For me, anyway--if you like your crisp more goopy and sweet, double the granulated sugar and corn starch that goes on the berries.) I think it's the almonds that makes this so yummy. I'm putting almonds in all my crisps from now on.

Blackberry Crisp

1/2 cup (1 stick) plus 1 tablespoon cold butter
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sliced or chopped almonds
1 teaspoon cinnamon
4 cups blackberries
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch

Pour the blackberries into a wide shallow baking dish (an 8x8 should do the trick). Sprinkle the 2 tablespoons of sugar and the 1 teaspoon of cornstarch over the berries. Set aside.

Combine oats, flour, brown sugar, almonds, and cinnamon in a bowl. Cut the butter into small squares and knead into the flour mixture (I prefer to do this by hand, but you could probably cut it in with a fork.) Spoon on top of the blackberries to cover, but not absolutely thoroughly.

Bake 25 minutes and serve with ice cream.

Pearl by Bright Common

I've been listening this week to a new album by Bright Common, a local group here in Brunswick. Pearl is their first album and by turns, it's haunting and lovely, expansive and intimate.

Around here, lead singer John Bisbee, is more well known for his sculpture than his crooning. He works almost entirely in metal, and more specifically, nails (hence the band named after a nail). His sculptures are intricate and breathtaking. When you stand in front of a John Bisbee work you can't help but be moved in some inexplicable way. Perhaps because all that common metal suddenly looks so delicate and beautiful. In 2004, The New Yorker described his work perfectly, "In Bisbee's hands, the spikes are transformed into objects of surprising grace." [See some of Bisbee's art]

Bandmate Mark Wethli is also a visual artist. Mainly a geometric painter who deals in deep swaths of shape and color, his full-scale Piper Club airplane sculpture was recently on display at Fort Andross this year and was a very cool departure. Like Bisbee's work, this piece took something as large and industrial as an airplane and allowed us to look at it from the inside out until it became something delicate, fragile, and full of wonder. [See some of Wethli's art]

But this post is about music, not art, and this is all to say that this is not your typical first album, nor your typical new band. These artists are attempting to bring the same sensibilities they bring to their visual art into an aural realm. And it's really quite a lovely experience.

Listen to free downloads on Bright Common's MySpace page.

Download the full album on CDBaby or Amazon.

Blackberry Picking by Seamus Heaney

Photo by respres

Kevin and I spent yesterday afternoon picking blackberries. The berries were perfect. So ripe that sometimes you barely touched the branch and two or three berries would go tumbling to the ground. I got bramble scratches up my arms and a ping-pong-sized welt of a bug bite on my ankle, but it was SO worth it. Especially after I made the most delicious warm blackberry crisp ever (more on that on Friday).


In Poetry Writing for Kids this year, my students (third through fifth grade) were going to study Seamus Heaney's poem "Blackberry Picking," but I am always a bit overly ambitious. Instead of studying 25 poems in 5 afternoons, we only had time for about 20 (they did, after all, have their own writing to do). This one, sadly, is one of the ones I cut from the roster:


Blackberry Picking
by Seamus Heaney

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickening wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermetted, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

Grab Bag Friday: Twitterpated

Okay, I've finally succumbed to this whole Twitter thing. I'm just testing the waters and figuring things out, so if you're an old pro, please do come by and say hi. I can be found @josephinewrites. Hope to see you there!

As the wise old owl explained: "Don't you know? He's twitterpated!"

Hooray for 2010 Summer Workshops!

I had so much fun teaching my Poetry, Fiction, and Songwriting workshops for kids this summer. It's hard to believe they're already over. In Fiction, the students wrote fabulous stories about adventures that took place everywhere from Mt. Kilimanjaro to Mine Hole Land to a drawer in someone's bedroom. In Poetry, there were sestinas, villanelles, and beautiful free verse that could break your heart.

This year, in my Songwriting for Kids workshop, the class worked together to write a song about a river that I'd like to visit (especially that cave full of gold!) I think my favorite line in the whole song is "the trees are doing the cha-cha in the wind." How great is that? You can listen to this year's class singing their song in The Listening Room and here are the lyrics:

The Moon Shines Bright onto the River
by the 2010 Songwriting for Kids class


Chorus:
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river   
The moon shines bright onto the river

Verse 1:
The owls are hooting
The river’s moving
The trees are doing the cha-cha in the wind

The waves are crashing
Against the rocks
Drops of water splashing on a stranger’s skin

Chorus:
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river   
The moon shines bright onto the river

Verse 2:
Flying fish are soaring high
Starfish on a rock
The water’s deep and cold

Coyotes are howling
An owl lives in the forest
Near a cave full of gold

Chorus:
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river   
The moon shines bright onto the river

Bridge:
The dark blue sky is like
A blue blanket
On my bed

Chorus:
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river
The moon shines bright onto the river   
The moon shines bright onto the river 

Neil Gaiman: The Graveyard Book

This weekend, Kevin and I went on an exciting trip to New York City where we ate great food, spent time with old friends, saw a great Broadway Show, and for the car ride, we brought along the audio version of Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. You know...that little book that came out in 2008 and got some attention by winning the Newbery Medal, the Hugo Award, the Carnegie Medal, and oh, at least a half dozen more major literary awards. I admit, I'd never read it.

Now, I'll also admit, I'm *glad* I'd never read it. Because listening to Neil Gaiman read the book aloud is so much fun, I'm certain I wouldn't have enjoyed it half as much if I had read it on my own. Most books, I like to curl up on the couch and create a world in my own head. But Neil Gaiman's voice is built for storytelling. He draws you in and invites you to hang on his every word.

Of course, the story is chilling. Our hero, Bod (short for Nobody), enters the novel as an infant whose family has just been brutally murdered. In an unprecedented act of generosity, the ghosts of the local graveyard take him in and vow to protect him. What unfolds is part mystery, part straight-up fantasy/adventure, but what is most intriguing is Bod's coming of age story. Bod is a living, flesh-and-blood human being trying to fit into a world that is not his. In the end, after all is said and done, The Graveyard Book is about familial love, growing up, letting go, and finding your place in the world.

Next time you're trying to decide what to listen to on a long car trip, I recommend checking it out.