Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

It’s not fancy, but it’s an accurate description of Brian Selznick’s Wonderstruck from a physical point of view; it’s fat and heavy, certainly, but since more than half of the pages contain only pictures, it doesn’t take a terribly long time to read.

On second thought, even that sounds too frequent for the kind of review I’m about to do.  I’m unlikely to ever again review a piece of post-apocalyptic fiction that I skimmed rather than read, so this is really more of a one-time occurrence.  Enjoy it while it lasts!

Really, this started several weeks ago at the library, when I saw the ‘United we read’ title out on display (that’s a local program with the aim of getting Salt Lake County residents to read one specific title).  I saw the words ‘flu pandemic’ on the back, and because a)I was in a hurry and b)half of me was firmly paying attention to my 3-year-old I grabbed it and put it on my library card, thinking it was historical fiction.  When I got home and looked at the description more closely, I realized my mistake; I would have bailed on it immediately, since post-apocalyptic fiction is not, not, NOT my thing, but it mentioned Shakespeare on the back, and it was the ‘United we read’ title, and so I stuck it on the shelf to think about.  I finally decided to skim it and then return it, except that by the time I was 1/3 of the way through my skimming became fairly thorough, because Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven is good.  The former child actor, the Traveling Symphony who also performs Shakespeare, the pieces of the past that give us insight into the rest of the characters and the different worlds involved–I DON’T LIKE post-apocalyptic fiction, and yet I found myself captivated by this book.  It brought to mind my favorite story from Orson Scott Card’s Folk of the Fringe, except that this is a novel, not a short story, and so its world is more fully realized.  If you have any interest at all in any aspect of this story, then read the book.  I can almost promise that you will not be disappointed.

Clearly I missed the 1st of February…and the 3rd.  And, yes, the first was quite a busy day, and the 3rd was a very busy evening, but the 5,000 piece puzzle currently being assembled in our living room still played a significant role in distracting me from other things.  I shall try and do better–but I make no promises.

Technically, I have a book to review, but it’s a snowy night promising to turn into a snowy day tomorrow, so I’m giving you a soup recipe instead.  Specifically, this Slow Cooker Chicken Potato Soup, which I thoroughly enjoyed (while my children remain various levels of unappreciative when it comes to many soups, especially those with chunks of potatoes in them).  I only made two changes; I gave the onions and celery a quick saute (because FLAVOR), and I substituted 1/2 cup of evaporated milk for the 1/4 cup milk and 1/4 cup heavy cream.  (I was also generous with the veggies and chicken, but hey, I like a hearty soup with lots of chunks, and I used what I had.)  The Parmesan cheese finish gave it a different flavor than your average creamy soup, which was really rather delightful.  I recommend this one!

I finished listening to Joanna Cannon’s The Trouble with Goats and Sheep today, and it was odd.  It was also (by turns) hilarious, poignant, disturbing, and unexpected.  What it never was, certainly, was boring.

It is the summer of 1976, there’s a heat wave in England, and Mrs. Creasy has disappeared.  The whole street is speculating; 10-year-olds Grace and Tilly decide to go looking for God, in order to keep themselves and their neighbors safe, while the adults around them start to point fingers at the local recluse, a man whom everyone is sure is a pervert and a danger to them all.  As the summer progresses, however, the neighbors’ lives are exposed to us–one by one–and a clear picture of the situation becomes increasingly more difficult to grasp.  Many of Cannon’s characters aren’t exactly lovable, but (for the most part) we aren’t allowed to dismiss any of them as simply bad; instead, Cannon (a psychiatrist by profession) gives us a cast full of imperfect human beings, whose choices (even the terrible ones) can be traced to reasons that made sense to them.  (The one exception is Grace’s worst choice of the novel, which seemed extreme to me.)  There’s an element of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, here, among many other things, but the ending is far more nebulous.  (I wanted more resolution, although I can appreciate why it was left where it was.)  The timing of the storm at the end felt contrived to me, but overall, this is an atmospheric, quirky book that’s likely to stick with you far longer than you might have expected.  Let me know what you think!

I was totally going to post on Sunday, and then–I didn’t.  But we had our college kids over (nieces and nephews!), and there were birthday cakes for the February birthdays, and there was cooking and baking and grilling, and then, when they left, there was exercising.  The OTHER reason it was a big weekend was the ALA Midwinter meeting, at which (on the Monday) they announce their Youth Media Award winners for the year.  You can see the press release with the complete list of winners here.

Sadly, I’m still waiting for them to announce a Newbery that I’ve already read; on the other hand, one of the Theodore Seuss Geisel winners was already in my son’s reading pile, and quite a few of the winners were at least on my radar.  (Come to think of it, another of the Geisel books was already read by 2/3 of us and then returned.)  Take a look at the list, folks, and add a few books to your own!

Pam Jenoff’s The Orphan’s Tale has been sitting on my shelf for over a year (maybe two?); thanks (again) to the wonder of listening to audiobooks on my phone, however, I’m finally in a position to review it!  (I quite enjoyed the audio version, by the way, although I might not have realized how often the two narrators use “though” in their sentences if I’d only read the print version instead of using both.)

First and foremost, unlike the last WWII-era novel I read, The Orphan’s Tale was what I wanted it to be (insofar as I knew what I wanted!).  It sounded compelling, and poignant, and out of the common way, and it was most definitely all of those things.  I knew nothing about European circus dynasties (which you should absolutely google when you get a chance!), which made Noa’s rescue by one of them doubly fascinating.  I’ve read enough about the Holocaust not to have been surprised by the almost-fate of the Jewish baby she brought with her, but the intertwining of their stories made for riveting fiction.  Astrid, the aerialist that trains Noa, felt a bit uneven once or twice–abrupt about faces without textual explanations can interrupt a story’s flow–and Noa’s actions sometimes frustrated me (although given her youth, they weren’t improbable), but overall, this book grabbed me on the first page and held me until the last.  If the premise sounds even mildly interesting to you, find it and read it.  You won’t be disappointed!*

*As long as you note the title of this post, I should say.  This IS a WWII story, after all…

I completely spaced the ‘I’m taking a break’ post I was going to do on Thursday morning, because I was too busy getting ready to drive to Idaho with the kiddos and my nephew to surprise my dad for his 77th birthday celebration.  (Technically his birthday is today, but we took advantage of the Monday holiday.)  The trip went well–it sounded like the weather would make the trip there AND back dicey, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared it would be–and both my parents were happily surprised.  Hooray!  We got back on Monday evening, but I’d slept too poorly Sunday night (thanks to my soon-to-be-4-year-old!) to string coherent sentences together, and so here we are.

While we were at my parents’ house, I skimmed through a few books for the girlies on the treadmill AND read one of the graphic novels that’s been sitting in a pile in my room.   The skimmed books have migrated to the shelves in those girlies’ bedroom, but they pounced on the graphic novel shortly after I finished it, which means that Hereville:  How Mirka Caught a Fish is ready to go back to the library.  I’m a little sad about that, though; it brought a fantastic trilogy to an end, and who wants good things to end?  In Mirka’s 3rd adventure, Barry Deutsch not only nails another adventure story with Orthodox Jewish humor and flavor, he also takes a deeper look at the relationships in Mirka’s family, making for a conclusion even more satisfying than I expected.  (Also more chaotic.)  I’ve heard variations on tales of a wishing fish, but this is most definitely my favorite.  Don’t miss out on Mirka!

That pretty much sums up Julia Stuart right there, folks.  I finished The Pigeon Pie Mystery on Sunday, and I possibly enjoyed it as much as The Tower, the Zoo, and the Tortoise.  Pigeon Pie is perhaps easier to summarize–Mink (an actual Indian princess, albeit one born and raised in England) loses her father, moves into a grace-and-favour residence (just google it, really), finds her maid accused of murdering a neighbor, and sets out to clear her name by investigating her quirky, suddenly all-very-suspicious neighbors–but from Mink’s adventures buying mourning clothes to her eventual discovery of the truth, Stuart’s wit and writing style are a continual delight.  Possibly if you mixed one of Agatha Christie’s lighter novels with “My Cousin Vinny” or “Legally Blonde,” threw in a touch of Jane Austen and Tolkien…I don’t know.  Some styles defy description; all I can tell you is that at this point, I would read an instruction manual if Julia Stuart wrote it.  Go get something by her–anything, really–and read it today!

We ate at my in-laws’ tonight, and since there is only one January birthday in Utah, I figured a supplemental dessert wouldn’t hurt, right?  (Okay, I just like dessert.  But still!)  I wanted something we could make as a family activity, and so I went to Mel’s Kitchen Cafe (one of my favorite cooking blogs) to find this recipe for Brookies.  (Because why have brownies OR chocolate chip cookies when you could have both?!)  I made the doughs, my hubby made them into balls with the kiddos and smushed the balls together while I chopped veggies for soup, and several pans later, we had a lovely pile of chocolaty, buttery circles of goodness to share.  These would be labor intensive to make alone, but they’re perfect if you’ve got a small posse of elementary schoolers eager to help–and oh, they’re lovely!  They will definitely be happening again.

This week I (finally) managed to finish one of the books that I started before the holidays and then ended up leaving by the wayside, because, well, the holidays.  (The Christmas stuff is still not all put away, but I’m trying!)  I received a copy of Sam Maggs’ Wonder Women:  25 Innovators, Inventors, and Trailblazers Who Changed History almost, well–2 1/2 years ago.

Ouch.  Kids just slow down certain aspects of your life, you know?

Anyway.  Clearly, this review is LONG overdue, especially since the folks at Quirk Books were kind enough to send me an ARC.  Without further ado, then…

THE GOOD:  Okay, these were seriously fascinating stories.  What kills me is that at 39, I’d only heard of 4 of the 25 before I started the book–and I love history. Which means that the majority of these stories aren’t known the way they should be, so kudos to Sam Maggs for bringing them to our attention.  She also gives us brief paragraphs on more women for each category, making this a book packed with stories that need to be told.  The sections are long enough to give a sense of each story but short enough so as not to feel overwhelming for teens who may not be big nonfiction fans (I certainly wasn’t at that age!).  I wanted more, but again, I’m 39, and I quite enjoy nonfiction at this point in my life.

THE NOT-AS-GOOD-FOR-ME:  I noted multiple reviewers complaining about Maggs’ tone, and I will say that I was a bit tired of it by the end.  I’m not a teen and my oldest is 12, so she may have been spot-on for her intended audience–I wouldn’t know.  Its specific sort of slangy, modern chattiness narrows its appeal a bit, though.

THE LESS-THAN-IDEAL-OVERALL:  In the first few sections, Maggs went out of her way to cast relevant male characters in the worst possible light.  That seemed to ease up as the book progressed, but it weakened the effect a bit.  (It’s true that nonfiction slanted in the opposite direction for, well, centuries, but I’d rather see a problem rectified than the pendulum swing out in the other direction.)  Maggs also went out of her way to point out any nontraditional lifestyle choices made by the women in question, and at some point, their sexuality is not only not relevant, but mentioning it falls into the old trap of focusing on different information when describing women than when describing men.

THE VERDICT:  This is not a book written for adults that appeals to teens, but a book written for teens (or possibly those just past their teens).  The stories in it, however, are stories that need to be told, whatever the age of their audience; I’m interested to see what else Sam Maggs has to offer.