Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

So I missed the 29th, because there was craziness, and then there’s been more craziness, and now it’s New Years Eve with its own brand of craziness.  Goodnight to everybody, and I’ll see you next year!

I hope all of you were as blessed as we were this Christmas–with family, with warmth and comfort, and with the Savior’s love.  There is more family to come as the new year approaches, but for now, I get to review for you the book I finished listening to while wrapping presents on Christmas Eve.  Jessica Shattuck’s The Women in the Castle sounded like exactly the sort of book that appeals to me–fellow widows of German resistance fighters gathering in a crumbling down castle to support each other and face life in postwar Germany–and I was quite excited when Britt offered me her extra copy.  Upon reading it, however, I found that the book is a good deal more complicated than that.  It both was and wasn’t my sort of book.

The back of it quotes the NY Times–“Moving…A plot that surprises and devastates”–and the USA Today–“The Women in the Castle stands tall among the literature that reveals new truths about one of history’s most tragic eras”; both of those blurbs strike me as accurate.  The blurb on the front, however, caught my eye first.  The author of a recent bestseller (The Nest) is quoted there as saying “A joy to read, this is a beautiful and important book.”  I looked at that a number of times during the course of the novel, and while I’m not going to quibble with ‘beautiful’ and ‘important’ as adjectives–it’s certainly beautifully written, as well as being the kind of thought provoking that can’t help but be enlightening in its way–nothing about this book struck me as a joy to read.  Compelling, yes, powerful, yes, but a joy?  Seriously?

As I read it, I couldn’t help but think of a memoir called We Were Not Alone:  How an LDS Family Survived World War II Berlin.  I suppose I had wanted Shattuck’s book to contain those same themes of trying to be true to one’s conscience in an unconscionable world–and being blessed for it.  Instead, it spotlighted differing German views of the war, the Nazis, and a people’s moral responsibility, embodied in three very different women whose bond was not at all what I wanted it to be.  I wanted them to build relationships based on trust that would sustain them in postwar life, but that did not feel like the point at all.  Shattuck, to her credit, does an excellent job of showing me why that was–I imagine what she describes was painfully real for many, many people–but I’ve always loved stories about healing and overcoming, and that wasn’t quite the vibe here.  Surviving, yes–in different kinds of ways–but what true healing and overcoming there was didn’t happen when (or how) I was expecting it to.  I find myself thinking of The Kite Runner, which was beautiful and painful and, at the very end, cautiously hopeful, but no more than that.  I respect the level of thought The Women in the Castle inspired in me, but it was an emotionally difficult rather than an emotionally satisfying read.  Whether or not you ought to read it depends entirely, then, on what you’re looking for.*

*I ended this sentence this way because it’s exactly how I wanted it to sound; in the interest of full disclosure, however, I still struggle to look at the preposition ending a 3-paragraph post.  It works, but it hurts.

Yes, I should have posted last night, but December, you know?  At any rate.  Tonight I finished Martin Sandler’s Island of Hope:  The Story of  Ellis Island and the Journey to America.

Alone.

I started out reading it to my girls, but my highly emotionally intuitive 9-year-old didn’t like the sadness implicit in even the most successful stories, and my mystery-loving 11-year-old (she’s 12 now, but she wasn’t when we started it together!) wasn’t engaged, possibly because it’s a series of grouped experiences covering different parts of the immigrant journey instead of a conventional plot.  At any rate, reading it together was becoming a negative experience instead of a positive one, and so we bailed as a group and started something else instead.  I sure wasn’t going to bail on it individually, however, and so I’ve been snatching a few pages at a time, here and there, because (again) December.  Tonight I snatched the last few, and so here we are.

Here’s the thing.  I found the experiences (and the photographs!) fascinating, but I’m passionate about that part of history anyway; as a straight-through read, it’s probably best for kids who have an interest in the topic already.  (It would be a great research tool, though.)  It’s well done overall, although Russell Freedman is a better writer for the audience, but it’s not going to be captivating for everyone.  Bottom line?  I’m glad I read it, and interested kids should enjoy it, but it’s not the sort of book that’s going to win converts among the unenthused.  Do with that what you will!

Oh, and in case you hadn’t guessed from today’s title–I’m taking a break until after Christmas.  Don’t we all have miles to go before we sleep at the moment?

Because we’ve liked several different kinds of titles by Charise Mericle Harper, I checked The Amazing Crafty Cat out last week and read it yesterday evening (it’s quite short).  It’s slightly odd–“Crafty Cat” is the girl’s imaginary superhero alter-ego and she invokes her anytime she runs into trouble, thereby saving the day with crafts and crafting skills–but fun, if on the young side for my older girls.  I’m guessing my 9-year-old will still like it because GRAPHIC NOVEL (AND because Birdie’s dilemma will appeal to her emotionally intuitive personality); normally I’d say that my 12-year-old would pass, since it’s way too young for her, but it has crafts.  As in, crafts that come with directions at the back of the book, so that you can make them yourself.  This being the case, it’s impossible to predict how it’s going to go over, so what can I say but–I’ll keep you posted!

I realized this week that I didn’t have specific book titles in mind for my older girls for Christmas, which was a serious problem, because books will be received for Christmas in this house!  After pondering and browsing online for things that would arrive in time, I decided to take a chance on Barry Deutsch’s Hereville:  How Mirka Got Her Sword, because my 9-year-old is obsessed with graphic novels, and who can resist the tagline on the cover–“Yet another troll-fighting 11-year-old orthodox Jewish girl.”  It’s currently on its way, if it’s not in one of the boxes that arrived today, so I started reading the library copy I already had in my stack of books-to-preview-for-the-kiddos late last night.

Yeah, I finished it today.  And sure, it’s not a LONG graphic novel, but still.  You fall right into it and it keeps you reading, and it’s quirky and delightful and out of the common way.  It’s also worth the risk I took in ordering it for Christmas before I read it, although there’s always the danger that the daughter it’s earmarked for might be scared (she’s unpredictable that way).  If you want a glimpse into orthodox Jewish life cleverly and well-disguised as an adventure involving an intrepid girl, a pig, and knitting needles–and really, who doesn’t?–than this book is for you.  I can’t wait to see what my girlies think of it!

Yeah, it’s mid-December, folks.  I’ve been doing ALL THE THINGS, and now I’m going to bed.  We’ll see what happens on Saturday!

Yes, I’m still avoiding the review that’s going to require more thought and emotional commitment.  On the other hand, I finished listening to Birds of a Feather last night–the second installment in Jacqueline Winspear’s ‘Maisie Dobbs’ series–so I’m reviewing that, and that’s something, right?

First of all, I definitely enjoyed Birds of a Feather enough to keep going in the series; the setting is a draw for me, but I also find the characters worth spending time with, as a whole.  Hired to track down a missing heiress, Maisie finds herself investigating the murders of a group of women who formed a group in their school days and immediately afterwards.  Her assistant, on the other hand, has been struggling more and more with the chronic pain from his war wound, and his efforts to control it form a side plot that ultimately connects Maisie’s London life with her Kent roots.  There were a few plot devices that frustrated me–yes, Maisie, you absolutely SHOULD inform the DI that you found a specific item at two different crime scenes as well as the scene of a “suicide,” and surely you’re smart enough to preemptively inform that same DI about your assistant’s visit to a murder victim instead of thinking that perhaps someone else of the same description did so on the same day–but overall, the setting and story won me over.  I’ll be interested to see what the next installment brings!

That’s me tonight, folks.  I STILL haven’t reviewed the book I finished–two weeks ago, I think?  I keep not having the energy to really write at night, it being December and all.  Tonight I sort of had the energy, but I used it all to write the Christmas letter that kind of wanted to be written last week.  I’d feel worse about this if I weren’t pretty sure that December is like this for just about everyone; as it is, I’ll shoot for Tuesday.  Good night (and good luck!) to us all!

And when I say indescribably, I really do mean it; Julia Stuart’s The Tower, the Zoo, and the Tortoise cannot be summarized in a way that expresses properly why you should read it.  It’s about the Tower of London–it’s about grief–it’s about a withering marriage–it’s about exotic animals–it’s about finding someone (or someTHING) to care about in unexpected places.  And on every page, it’s written with a humor that’s part deadpan, part detached, part matter-of-fact, and part consciously hilarious, that made me want to clap and giggle and hand this book to strangers on the street.  To be fair, you have to enjoy a more British style of humor, but that’s about the only restriction I can think of for you.  The ending is completely satisfying, so don’t worry about that–just sit back and enjoy your ride through a historic place filled with modern people who have timeless issues to be resolved!

My 6-year-old son’s Christmas list:

2 boxes of Sprite and 2 boxes of Root beer and 3 boxes of orange Fanta and one of those mini Friges to put all of sodas in   a jump rope  a chismas tree made of soda boxes  a minecraft shirt  a minecraft blanket a minecraft chismas hat  my front tooth  a minekraft jacket a car blaneket like my Jake blanket

a Kindle

a shirt with someone from Dude Perfect on it

Note:  I recreated the spelling faithfully, which I thought was pretty dang good for a kid not quite six and a half.  He fixed the first three Minecrafts but missed the fourth; the last two were additions relayed verbally at bedtime and therefore actually written by my hubby and me.  By car blanket he means one with Lightning McQueen on it, BIG instead of a lot of little Lightnings all over.