Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I landed a promotional copy of Jennifer Donnelly’s A Northern Light when I was working at Borders (may it rest in peace); thanks to digital audio books, I finally got around to ‘reading’ it.  (It’s not that it didn’t look interesting–it’s just that so very many books look interesting.  All the time.)  Listening is a form of reading, of course, since you do experience the book, but I have to specify because the narrator deserves her very own shout-out.  She did an excellent southern accent, French-Canadian accent, and Irish brogue, which is a couple of good accents more than many narrators can do.  If you can listen to this one, you should totally do it.  (Although it may have made some of the flashback points a bit harder to track.)  But I digress…

Okay, possibly I digress because I’m finding it hard to review this book.  It was full of a lot of hard things, although none of them were necessarily unrealistic; the ending was the least believable part of the book for me, and yet I’m not sure what I would have done differently that would have made it a workable story; and most of the people in it were complicated, with likable and unlikable traits tangled up together.  (That last, of course, is life, but it made for an emotionally complicated story to read, and far fewer truly likable characters.)  The real-life murder that forms part of the plot was one of the draws for me, and Donnelly did an excellent job with it, as far as Wikipedia and I could tell.  Ultimately, Mattie’s story stuck with me, wandering in and out of my mind, far more than many novels do, which is a recommendation in and of itself; I may not have always liked the characters, OR what some of them were doing, but I couldn’t leave them alone until Donnelly was done with them.  Mattie, her sisters, her pa, her friends, and the Glenmore itself are lingering a bit still, to be honest with you.  If you’re looking for YA historical fiction/coming of age with a bit of grittiness–some language, mostly milder, a great deal of the hardness of life, and a bit of teenager fooling around, so to speak–this one fits the bill nicely.  Let me know what you think!

As of yesterday, I have a 12-year-old.  As of this morning, she has pierced ears.

She is beautiful, and intelligent, and curious, and amazing…and I AM TERRIFIED.

My oldest read the first two “Nameless City” books a year or two ago; she was extremely disappointed to find that the third book hadn’t been written yet.  The Nameless City:  The Divided Earth came out in September, however, and so her wait is finally over.  Wahoo!

Incidentally, I also enjoyed the end of the trilogy.  While the middle installment surprised me with its leap into violence, this conclusion ended with a surprising, satisfying, and (relatively) non-violent solution.  There is fighting, yes, but the ending is more of a foray into a new, ideal sort of peace–an idea that young readers in this day and age could use more of in their lives.  I wish I’d remembered the characters slightly better–I read the first two at basically the same time my oldest did–but it wasn’t a make-or-break problem.  If you haven’t encountered The Nameless City* trilogy yet, you’re missing out.  This is middle grade graphic novel thoughtful action at its best; it’s pretty hard not to like it!

*FYI–It’s definitely the kind of trilogy you read in order.

Happy belated birthday to my favorite sister!  I’m only a day late, so that’s something, right?  And since her birthday is on November 12th–the same day as the twins in the original version of “The Parent Trap”!–here are twelve things I love about my sister (in no particular order):

1.  Her food.  Because food.
2.  Her love for my children.  She revels in being an indulgent auntie.
3.  Being on her team while playing Taboo.  We are UNBEATABLE.
4.  Her energy.  She does more than I do, and I wish I were more like her.
5.  Shared memories.  Oh, the Easter Bunny cake!
6.  Shared book knowledge.  Because she remembers who called his mother ‘Mummy Dearwums’ when I’m having a mental blank.
7.  Shared family knowledge.  Because this is of ongoing importance.
8.  A fierce, shared love for Rhode Island.
9.  Her piano/organ skills.  Because she’s worked for it.
10.  Her sense of humor.  Because sometimes it’s eerily like mine.
11.  Her commitment to her kids.  Her parenting has shaped mine.
12.  Her.  Because she’s my sister–and she’s stuck with me!

The Armistice that ended the Great War was signed 100 years ago today.

Veterans–of all conflicts–I honor you.

When my friend Britt picked Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone for our book club in September, I knew that it was a mystery, that it was Victorian (or thereabouts)–and that’s pretty much it.  (I had NO IDEA how long it was.)  She discovered it on audio–not through Libby–and listened to it herself; because technology is not so much my friend (but she is!), she searched around until she figured out how to put RBDigital on my phone, whereupon I made the most of the opportunity and listened to it as well.  (As if you couldn’t tell that I’d been listening to Victorian literature from THAT sentence.)  And wow.

Seriously, folks.  It was funny!  Funny as in, say, Jane Austen, only with mysterious lurking Indians (of the Eastern variety) instead of snobby sisters.  Funnier, really.  I’m desperately glad that I listened to it, both because I wouldn’t have got around to the hard copy any time soon AND because the narrators were incredible.  The mystery of the diamond got a bit far-fetched in a few spots, but it was the late 1800s–I wasn’t worried about it.  Mostly, I just smiled and chuckled and shook my head in amazement at how much I was enjoying myself in the listening.  Do yourself a favor–find the audiobook and experience it for yourself!

I’ve been on a new recipe kick, which my children are probably getting sick of, and when our corner grocery store had rump roasts on sale, I searched my Pinterest board and decided to give this Slow-Cooked Rump Roast a try.  I didn’t have horseradish sauce, so I had to find a recipe for it online and make my own, but other than that, it was simple to throw together–and I ended up LOVING the flavor.  My oldest was a fan, too, interestingly enough.  My son was on a grouchy kick, so his disapproval may or may not have been based on the food itself, and my second girlie was unlikely to love it, so no surprise there.  My youngest has been so grumpy by dinnertime lately that who knows what she actually thinks of the food, but my hubby liked the meat.  (He wasn’t so much a fan of the sauce over the veggies, but ‘tangy’ is not actually a flavor profile that generally works for him.)  My carpool friend tried it today, and she enjoyed it, so there you have it.  If this sounds good to you, or if tangy works for you in general, you should definitely try this one.  (It doesn’t taste specifically of horseradish so much as there’s a general burst of flavor, if that worries you.)  Let me know what you think!

My kiddos–especially my son–have enjoyed several of Aaron Reynolds’ picture books; they also enjoy graphic novels enough that it seemed only sensible to check his Caveboy Dave:  More Scrawny Than Brawny out of the library to preview for them.  I finished it a few days ago, and while it was funny–and often clever–I’m returning it to the library instead of passing it on to them.  If they find it on their own, they’re welcome to it, you understand.  The poo humor was just a little heavier than I prefer, and while it wasn’t inane and was part of the story overall, I’m just not a fan of it.

Really, it’s a pity, because there’s good story here, story with a more in-depth message than its intended audience is necessarily going to recognize.  Even now, I’m on the cusp–should I just give it to them?–but the books I provide for them are either books I’m essentially recommending or books they’ve specifically requested.  Until Caveboy Dave comes under the latter category, life is too short (and our library cards too crowded!) to choose it, specifically, to represent my recommendations.  If butt and poo humor doesn’t bother you quite as much as it does me, however–OR if you have a reluctant reader and just want to get him or her reading–I do recommend this one.  And if that feels a little mixed up, what can I say?  It does to me, too.

You recall that I drove my kiddos (plus one nephew!) to Idaho for fall break, to visit family?  Well, a few nights before we left I ran to the library to grab a book for my oldest (she’d checked it out of the school library, was almost finished with it, and had accidentally left it at school the day before it was due; when I realized that our nearest library had a copy available, I left her and her sisters and took my son with me to pick it up).  While there it occurred to me that since I’d been considering trying a book on CD for the drive, why not take advantage of my unexpected jaunt and do some browsing?  I came up with two options (I was limited, of course, to what was actually on the shelf); one was a book that I had checked out on my card and I thought might be nice to listen to, and the other was by Andrew Clements.  I’d never read anything by him, but I knew who he was; everything I knew suggested that he’d be well suited to the ages and genders I was going to have in the car with me.  I therefore checked out The Last Holiday Concert on 3 CDs, retrieved my 6-year-old from the Lego table, and headed home.  We left for our trip a few days later, and the rest, my friends, is history.

First of all, I’m a sucker for teacher/student success stories–and for the arts.  (AND for Christmas music.)  Throw in a good bit of humor, the poignancy of job loss, and some life lessons learned by all, and what’s not to love?  My 6-year-old fell asleep after lunch and his attention drifted when he woke up, but my older girls and my nephew listened and enjoyed–as did I.  I’ve never had a drive feel so short!  It was seriously a thing of beauty, and Clements was a delightful mix of humor and the feels, and guess who’s going to be looking for another few books by him the next time we’ve got a road trip planned?  In the meantime, this is the perfect book for you and your elementary schooler(s) to read between now and Christmas.  And Hanukkah.  And–you get the idea.  Grab it and read it now!

Sometimes they’re a little skewed, right?  And sometimes they give off the wrong vibe–occasionally an entirely different vibe than the book itself.

Sometimes, on the other hand, they’re just plain wrong.  Whoever wrote the blurb on the back of Britt’s ARC of Susan Wiggs’ Family Tree had either an earlier draft of the plot or a lamentable tendency to mix up plot points at random.  Yes, the main character was in an accident that put her in a coma for a year, and yes, upon waking she returned to her family’s farm in her small Vermont hometown; yes, she reconnects with her high school boyfriend.  What happens next, however, is a bit different.  That being said, here (in no particular order!) are my impressions of the book.

1.  Oh, New England.  The setting was a big part of why I read the book in the first place, and Wiggs treats it like a major character.
2.  At least, a romanticized view of it.  None of the characters seem to be actually hurting for money, even the ones who are ‘scraping by.’
3.  The back and forth of the love story was wearing thin by the end.
4.  The descriptions of family life, family meals, and family time together were lyrical.
5.  The story grabbed my attention, which is why I could get past occasional bits like, “The weekend turned into a rampant sex fest.”
6.  Modern fiction never really acknowledges the sacrifices you make pursuing a career and a family.  Distance and place are presented as the major obstacles in Annie and Fletcher’s relationship, but the fact is, you really can’t have it all.  There aren’t enough hours in the day.
7.  Who doesn’t love an eminently despicable ex?
8.  This was fun, escapist fiction, and I’m likely to try another book by Susan Wiggs when I’m in the mood for same.