Amen, Sister!

That is what my whole body is shouting over and over again as I turn the pages of Slouching Toward Bethlehem by Joan Didion, a collection of essays written decades before I was born. I have so much work that I should be doing right now, but I cannot contain myself. In the last two days, I have already called my husband and both of my parents to make them listen to lines from these essays, so since I don't want to bother them anymore, I am loosing my enthusiasm for this writing on the internet.

I have never had any interest in reading collections of essays before, nor have I read anything of Didion's before, but this, as it turns out, is my very favorite kind of writing. It is the kind that makes me stop to write down sentences that I wish I had written and that I don't want to forget. It is the kind of writing that forces me to keep my phone nearby because I have to look up a word or a reference every page or two. I collect words like some people collect...I don't know. Coins? Spoons? Do people still collect spoons? Point is - I like a book that requires a dictionary because it expands my collection.

My Slouching Toward Bethlehem word collection so far (apologies to non-word nerds, read: most people):

desultory (adj): lacking a plan, purpose, or enthusiasm
antimacassar (n): a cover to protect the back or arms of furnitre
rostrum (n): a raised platform on which a person stands to make a public speech
analysand (n): a person undergoing psychoanalysis
apocryphal (adj): of doubtful authenticity
cavil (n): a petty or unnecessary objection
Panglossian (adj): characterized by or given to extreme optimism, especially in the face of unrelieved hardship or adversity
aperçu (n): a discerning perception, an insight
donnée (n): a set of notions, facts, or conditions, that governs, and shapes, an act or way of life
anomie (n): social instability caused by erosion of standards and values
mendacious (adj): untruthful
atavisitc (adj): reverting to or suggesting the characteristics of a remote ancestor or primitive type
sybartic (adj): characterized by or loving luxury or sensuous pleasure

And I'm only on page 165.

On a related note, I knew I was going to write a blog on this when I read Didion's description of the rather lost children of the Haight who seemed determined to forgo the bourgeois language of "the man," relying on "groovy" to do the work of a hundred words. She won me over forever with the following, "As it happens I am still committed to the idea that the ability to think for one's self depends upon one's mastery of the language..." Preach it, Joan.

In addition to words that are mellifluous or whimsical, arcane or anomalous (see what I did there?), I also collect sentences. Sentences that make make me laugh or nod in recognition. Sentences that I wish I had written. Sentences that make me say, "Yes! That. That is exactly what I mean." Sentences that are just plain beautiful. I know a sentence is one I have to have if I feel an urgent need to read it aloud to whomever is closest. This is awkward when I am alone in public. In any event, this book is full of those kinds of sentences. This post is already too long, and I'm sure, too boring, so I'll share just a few of my favorites.

"I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. on a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends" (139).

"Although to be driven back upon oneself is an uneasy affair at best, rather like trying to cross a border with borrowed credentials, it seems to me now the one condition necessary to the beginnings of real self-respect" (143).

"To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, phenobarbital and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commission and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously uncomfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves" (144).

"It was once suggested to me that, as an antidote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag." (146-147).

As I was reading these essays, I realized that these are not the first of Ms. Didion's sentences in my collections. Two years ago, I excerpted a portion of the essay Los Angeles Notebook in which she beautifully describes the Santa Ana winds. Words. I just can't get enough. Obviously. Apologies for the lengthy book report!

Week 2: Book Signing

This week actually involved several new adventures, but this was first so this one gets recorded. On Thursday, I met Tom in Pasadena to see Ry Cooder read from and sign his new book, Los Angeles Stories. Now, Ry Cooder is a mixed bag for me - I love Buena Vista Social Club, but One Meatball makes me want to tear my hair out, but I'd never been to a book signing before, so I braved the redonculous traffic and headed to Pasadena.

{source: @vromans}

Making things even more fun and adventure, the signing was being held at Vroman's Bookstore, the oldest and largest independent bookstore in Southern California. I love me an independent bookstore, and this one was topnotch.  Amazon is so convenient with it's free two-day delivery and bargain prices, and Barnes and Noble has Starbucks, but nothing beats an independent bookstore.

Although wandering around the store was my favorite part, I actually ended up enjoying the book talk more than I expected. I hadn't done any research before had and had just assumed that the book would be about music stuff that I didn't understand. As it turned out, the book was a collection of short stories set in L.A. in the 1930s and '40s. I haven't read any of it yet, but I'm intrigued, and Mr. Cooder is clearly fascinated by his subject.

So, to sum up, Vroman's is rad, Ry Cooder is super smart and interesting, and book signings are cool. I have signed up for Vroman's mailing list, so hopefully I'll be back soon.

Back on the Wagon

So I dropped the ball. Tuesday I was busy all day and reworking my resume with Tom most of the evening. All of a sudden, it was midnight and...no blog. So then Wednesday rolls around. I wasn't particularly busy, but I had already failed at daily blogging for the month, so what was the point? I can see how benders begin...once you've blown it, might as well just say screw it. I have this problem with big dieting and exercising resolutions too. As soon as I miss a workout or eat a cookie, I think I have already ruined everything, might as well embrace my destiny and order a pizza. I exaggerate, but I really have a problem with the all or nothing mentality, so this is me getting back on the blogging wagon.

Today, I am thankful for books and libraries. [I'm pretty sure that a review of my documenting of the things that make me happy and the things I am grateful for will reveal that I am a huge nerd.] Yesterday, I decided to tackle something on my L.A. to-do list, so I headed to the Los Angeles Central Library.

First of all, turns out Los Angeles has a downtown with tall buildings and everything. I was rushing to my car hoping to beat over-eager meter maids (I did), and I only go one shot before the light changed, but...behold - skyscrapers!

Anyway, in the middle of all the tall buildings is the Central Library, and I must say, this library is next-level awesome.  And massive. In fact, according to Wikipedia, it is the third largest public library in the country; and according to the library's self-guided tour pamphlet, it is the largest public library "west of the Mississippi." It really says that. I didn't realize that people used that as a badge of honor in a non-ironic way, but...awesome!

This place is seriously huge and really beautiful. The Lodwrick M. Cook Rotunda was my favorite part of the library, and I was lucky to have a few moments with it all to myself. This is the focal point of the building as it was designed by Bertram Goodhue in 1926. [I only included that last sentence so that I had an excuse to write Bertram Goodhue. Is that not the best old timey name ever?]

Fun fact: the chandelier weighs one ton and is 64 feet off the ground. The 48 lights represent the number of states that were in the Union at the time the building was constructed.

Apparently, arson destroyed large sections of the library and 400,000 (oh, the humanity!) books in 1986. The fires prompted a major renovation that included this eight-story atrium in the Tom Bradley Wing.

{I really want to go back when I have more time and settle in at one of those tables on that skybridge.}

Each of the eight floors is dedicated to a different subject area; I was at a one-hour meter, so I only had time to cruise the top four floors.

Man, I love the seasonal display at the library. It encourages judging books by their covers, and I am totally into that.

I am definitely excited to go back and keep exploring because I know I only saw a fraction of the library's treasures.

Plus - self checkout, online renewal, and e-book lending? I'm in.

The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver

Read it. It's good. I love me some historical fiction, and Ms. Kingsolver does it up right. Actually, she does everything up right - The Poisonwood Bible is one of my favorites, The Bean Trees is awesome, I've already told you what I think about Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, and The Lacuna is another great read. Fair warning - it starts slow, but trust me; it's well worth hanging in there.

In this novel, Kingsolver has crafted a story that expertly weaves her protagonist into the tapestry of history. The book is primarily made up of the journal entries of the fictional Harrison William Shephard, and his is a diary that you want to read. Half-Mexican and half-American, Shephard is a man who is torn between two identities in more ways than one. He spends much of his early life in Mexico and soon finds himself an integral part of the lives of Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, and their guest, Leon Trotsky. Of the course of his time in the Rivera-Kahlo home, Shephard serves as Diego's cook, Frida's confidant, and Trotsky's amanuensis*, all while harboring a secret passion for writing.  Upon his return to the United States, his relationships with Rivera, Kahlo, and Trotsky raise the suspicion of the House Un-American Activities Committee, and Mr. Shephard finds that the quiet writer's life he had imagined for himself is not to be.

Interspersed among Shephard's journal entries are newspaper clippings, real stories from the New York Times as well as fictional articles from Shephard's hometown paper. I found these particularly fascinating, and I couldn't help but notice a similarity between the rhetoric surrounding Japanese Americans during WWII and some of the language used to talk about Muslim Americans today. But that is another post altogether...

In any event, I loved this book because Kingsolver has a gift for language that makes me equal parts blissful (it's such a joy to read) and despondent (I could try for a million years and never write anything as lovely), because I really cared for the characters (fictional and otherwise), and because I learned a lot (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I had no idea that there were attacks on U.S. soil during World War II). See - Ms. Kingsolver would never abuse parentheses like that. Sad face.  Lastly, I loved this book because it is rich with food for thought. 

Highlighted:

"The radio is at the root of the evil, their rule is: No silence, ever. When anything happens, the commentator has to speak without a moment’s pause for gathering wisdom. Falsehood and inanity are preferable to silence. You can’t imagine the effect of this. The talkers are rising above the thinkers. "

"Mr. Shepherd, ye cannot stop a bad thought from coming into your head. But ye need not pull up a chair and bide it sit down."

“…[people] want to believe in heroes… And villains. Especially when very frightened. It’s less taxing than the truth.”

"You know what the issue is? Do you want to know? It's what these guys have decided to call America. They have the audacity to say, 'There, you sons of bitches, don't lay a finger on it. That is a finished product. But any country is still in the making. Always. That's just history, people have to see that."

… nothing wondrous can come in this world unless it rests on the shoulders of kindness

You’ve never seen anything as dramatic as these American trees, dying their thousand deaths. The giant beech next door intends to shiver off ever hair of its pelt. The world strips and goes naked, the full year of arboreal effort piling on the sidewalks in flat, damp strata. The earth smells of smoke and rainstorms, calling everything to come back, lie down, submit to a quiet, moldy return to the cradle of origins.

Does a man become a revolutionary out of the belief he's entitled to joy rather than submission?

The past is all we know of the future.

New vocabulary:

lacuna - 1. An unfilled space or interval; a gap  2. A missing portion in a book or manuscript.  

perfidy – deceitfulness, untruthfulness

haint - Southern colloquialism - ghost, apparition, lost soul

*amanuensis - one employed to write from dictation or to copy manuscript

sigmoidal – S-shaped

sloe-eyed - having soft dark bluish or purplish black eyes (sloe refers to the tart bluish black        globe-shaped fruit of the blackthorn)

bairn - a child

cenote - a deep sinkhole in limestone with a pool at the bottom that is found especially in Yucatán

 

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

Fair warning - I'm about to rant and wax philosophical about food politics. I will not be offended if you want to skip what will surely be a highly nerdy blog post.

*Edited to add: I have been working on this post for a day and a half now, and it's become incredibly long-winded, even for me. I just can't seem to edit it down because there is so much I want to say on this topic, sooooo I'm going to publish what I have now and save the rest for later. Again, no pressure. If book reports aren't your thing, go here and look at cute baby animals.*

{U.S Food Administration poster c. 1914-1918}

Apparently, the USDA was more forward thinking a hundred years ago than it is today. Today,  63% of the billions that the USDA spends on farm subsidies goes to support meat and dairy production, 20% goes toward grain production (with much of that grain ending up in the bellies of livestock), and less than 1% goes to support the growing of fruits and vegetables (source and source). Today, the US imports over 80 million dollars worth of food every year (source). Today, we throw away almost 26 tons of food annually; that's over a a quarter of all the food produced for domestic sale and consumption (source). Today, the food we eat has traveled an average of 1,500 miles before it makes it to our plates (source).

Those fun facts just scratch the surface. Our relationship with food -what we eat, when we eat it, and where we get it from-is out of whack. Throw politics and money into the mix and you have what can only be described as a schemozzle. When I watched Food Inc., I started to pay attention. Now that I have finished reading Animal, Vegetable, Mineral by Barbara Kingsolver, I am fully committed to shopping, cooking, and eating with awareness. I know that my education in this area is just beginning and that I have a lot to earn, but I'm looking forward to the journey.

                                                                                                                       Source: amazon.com 

Thanks to Kindle, I was able to highlight all of the fascinating and infuriating passages that struck me while I was reading, so now (if you're still reading), I'm going to share them with you. First, background -Kingsolver wrote Animal, Vegetable, Mineral to document the year that she and her family spent eating locally grown foods. With only a few exceptions like coffee and olive oil, Kingsolver and her family eating only foods that they grew (or raised) themselves or purchased from local sources. Interspersed with anecdotes about the challenges of raising turkeys who seemed to have misplaced their maternal instincts and tips for dealing with August's plethora of squash, are astute observations and eye-opening statistics. You know how I love a good quote, but I'll try and limit myself...

First, there's the environmental argument. So much of what we eat comes from halfway around the world - apples from New Zealand, mangoes from Peru, shrimp from Vietnam. Moving and refrigerating all of that food over all of those miles wipes out any dent I think I might be making in my carbon footprint as I sit smugly behind the wheel of my Prius, my trunk full of (reusable!) bags stuffed with a veritable U.N. of produce.

"If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce, we would reduce our country’s oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week. That’s not gallons, but barrels. Small changes in buying habits can make big differences. Becoming a less energy-dependent nation may just need to start with a good breakfast.


Then there's the selfish argument - locally grown, in season food just tastes better than food that is exhausted after having spent days, if not weeks, en route to your table. Plus, when you have to go a few months without an apple, you appreciate it all the more when they return to the farmers markets.

"Waiting for foods to come into season means tasting them when they’re good, but waiting is also part of most value equations. Treating foods this way can help move “eating” in the consumer’s mind from the Routine Maintenance Department over to the Division of Recreation. It’s hard to reduce our modern complex of food choices to unifying principles, but this is one that generally works: eating home-cooked meals from whole, in-season ingredients obtained from the most local source available is eating well, in every sense. Good for the habitat, good for the body."

{Farmers Market, August 2010}

Buying locally seems logical, and yet, so much of the world's food practices are not.

"In every country on earth, the most humane scenario for farmers is likely to be feeding those who live nearby—if international markets would allow them to do it. Food transport has become a bizarre and profitable economic equation that’s no longer really about feeding anyone: in our own nation we export 1.1 million tons of potatoes, while we also import 1.4 million tons. If you care about farmers, let the potatoes stay home."


There is, of course, the argument that going out of your way to find locally grown food is time consuming, and it definitely can be. Despite the fact that San Diego boasts an abundance of local avocado farmers, the avocados at the Ralph's down the street are often from Chile, so that means that in order to buy local I have to find a farmer's market or go to Whole Foods. Going to Ralph's where I can also buy toothpaste and toilet paper is easier and faster.  In addition, if you're hardcore as Kingsolver unquestionably is and not fortunate enough to live some place like California where tomatoes only disappear from the "what's in season" list for three months, you will also spend your summer drying, canning, and freezing all the produce you can get your hands in order to survive winter's stinginess.

                                                                                                     Source: tim-cook.com via Megan on Pinterest

In addressing the issue of all the time that she spends tending her garden, harvesting her crops, shopping for what she can't grow herself, and then cooking all of it for her family, Kingsolver tells a story about a weekend in college when she discovered a faster route from school to home. When she arrived at home she made sure that her family heard all about the "navigational brilliance" that had shaved thirty-seven minutes off of her drive. She writes that her grandfather paused for a moment before responding, "'Thirty-seven... And here you just used up fifteen of them telling all about it. What's your plan for the other twenty-two?'"

"I'm still stumped for an answer, whenever the religion of time-saving pushes me to zip through a meal or a chore, rushing everybody out the door to the next point on a schedule. All that hurry can blur the truth that life is a zero-sum equation. Every minute I save will get used on something else, possibly no more sublime than staring at the newel post trying to remember what I just ran upstairs for. On the other hand, attending to the task in front of me—even a quotidian chore—might make it into part of a good day, rather than just a rock in the road to someplace else."

                                                                                  Source: whatkatieate.blogspot.com via Melanie on Pinterest

Kingsolver also discusses the importance of making time to break bread together. This passage struck me because when I was growing up, we almost always had dinner as a family. I'm sure it would have been much easier for my mother to give in to our repeated requests to eat in front of the TV or for my father to pick up something to eat on his way home from work, but they made eating together as a family a priority. Family dinners are still some of my favorite activities. And I was a National Merit Scholar, just saying.

"If I had to quantify it, I’d say 75 percent of my crucial parenting effort has taken place during or surrounding the time our family convenes for our evening meal. I’m sure I’m not the only parent to think so. A survey of National Merit scholars—exceptionally successful eighteen-year-olds crossing all lines of ethnicity, gender, geography, and class—turned up a common thread in their lives: the habit of sitting down to a family dinner table. It’s not just the food making them brilliant. It’s probably the parents—their care, priorities, and culture of support. The words: 'I’ll expect you home for dinner.'"


Ugh, ok. Enough for now, I'm starting to annoy myself.

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye...

The end has arrived; after 25 years, the final Oprah Winfrey Show has aired. I'm only half kidding when I say that I don't know what I'm going to do without regular Oprah fixes... 

Now, lest anyone accuse me of bias, let me begin by saying that I am well aware of the criticisms leveled at Ms. Winfrey. Sure, she can come across as a teensy bit self-absorbed (See figs. 1, 2, and 3), but dammit, I love Oprah.

Fig. 1

{Oprah wearing what appears to be a wedding dress to Bob Greene's wedding! For shame, O.}

Fig. 2

{Question: Who's on the cover of O this month? Answer: Oprah, Oprah plus puppies, Oprah times two.}

Fig. 3

{Did you know that she was in a little film called The Color Purple? Did you know that said film was directed by Spielberg?}

Ok, so humility may not be one of Ms. Winfrey's many virtues, but if my life were as cool as hers, I'd probably talk about it all the time too...

I realize that I sound like a total cliche cheeseball, but I really do feel that her show enriched my life. There is so much garbage on TV (I should know, I watch a decent amount of it), but the Oprah show was different. It generally operated on a higher plane, adding something to the conversation by teaching us, making us feel, or making us think. Don't get me wrong, sometimes it was pure escapism - I didn't learn shit from the Octomom episode, but I enjoyed the heck out of it. For the most part, however, Oprah and her team avoided sensationalism and rose above.

So here without further ado, in no particular order, are some of the things I have learned during the many hours of my life that I have spent with O.

1.  The world is full of amazing and inspiring people who have persevered through unimaginable challenges with smiles on their faces. (In other words, I have no business complaining about anything.)

*There was poet and peacemaker, Mattie Stepanek.

I remember my mom and I sniffling through an episode of Oprah where she was interviewing Mattie and his mother. Ms. Stepanek had muscular dystrophy and had passed it on to all four of her children, Mattie was the only one to live past age four. Despite his debilitating disease, Mattie had a palpable and contagious spirit of joy that I have always remembered. Mattie believed he was put on earth  to teach people that "we must remember to play after every storm and to celebrate the gift of life as we have it, or else life becomes a task, rather than a gift. We must always listen to the song in our heart, and share that song with others.”

*There was Monica, the mother who contracted necrotizing fasciitis after a C-section and had to have both arms and both legs amputated.

This woman was so impressive, I vividly remember when she said that she never had a why me? moment, saying only, "I did have moments of 'If God just left me one arm or one leg, life would be a little bit easier,' but that's not the way it went. You make do with what you have. I could still love my girls. The bottom line was I am still here."

*There was Tererai Trent, the Zimbabwean woman who was recently crowned Oprah's favorite guest because of her determined pursuit of an education.

This woman grew up, without running water or electricity, in a tiny village in Zimbabwe where school was a privilege reserved only for boys. By age eleven, Tererai was married to a man who beat her at the mere whisper of a desire for an education, and by age eighteen, she was a mother of three. Although the odds were stacked overwhelmingly against her, Tererai set out to achieve her dream of an American education. You can probably guess where this is going... If you have four minutes, watch the video to see how amazing her journey really is; this is now going to be required viewing in my class. If you have four more minutes, watch Oprah pull off her last big surprise.

*There was also Jacqui Saburido, survivor of a horrific accident caused by a drunk driver; Randy Pausch, the college professor who decided to live life as Tigger when everyone would have understood if he had more of an Eeyore vibe; and even Faith the two-legged dog.

Thanks, Oprah for introducing me to all of these stories that I might not otherwise have known. They have given me pause, reminded me to stay in the moment, and helped me to appreciate all I have.

2. The right bra can make you look ten pounds thinner. Also, Spanx are a gift    from God.

Ever since Oprah had the bra whisperer on, I have been obsessed with going to her store to get measured and find out if I'm wearing the right bra. Thanks to my observant and thoughtful sister, I am sitting on a gift card to Intimacy, the bra whisperer's very own bra boutique. So thanks to O and Mo on that one!

3. If you're ever attacked, you should never let them take you to a second location. 

I clearly remember watching this episode when it first aired in 1991. At that time, I was fairly certain that danger lurked around every corner (I did grow up in the tough neighborhood of Shelburne, Vermont), and I was eager for tips on how to escape death. Anyway, I have always remembered that Oprah's expert said that we must do everything we can to avoid being taken to a secondary location that is isolated and likely to become the site of our demise. When the moment of truth arrives and you are being mugged, carjacked, etc., you should throw your wallet and car keys as far as you can and run in the opposite direction. According to retired police sergeant Sanford Strong, the would-be kidnapper will be taken by surprise and will likely choose your cash and car over you. Watch out muggers, rapists, carjackers, assorted hoodlums, I've got your number.

4. Gratitude is important.

{Source: honor the gift}

"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." - Oprah Winfrey

 I think that I was in high school when I first heard Oprah talk about her gratitude journal. I have always known that gratitude is important, but Oprah really drove the point home. I don't always write it down, but every night I at least make a mental list of the many things I have to be thankful for. Apparently it was Meister Eckhart who first said, "If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough," but I first heard it from Oprah.

5. Education is power, and if you empower women, you can change the world.

Pretty self-explanatory...I have always admired Oprah's commitment to (and willingness to fund) schools, particularly those that serve girls. This also seems an appropriate juncture at which to give Ms. Winfrey a big shout out for her book club. On her recommendation, I have read and enjoyed: Where the Heart Is, White Oleander, The Poisonwood Bible, The Heart of a Woman, The Bluest Eye, A New Earth, Great Expectations (actually, that was more so on Mrs. Donoghues recommendation and it wasn't really a recommendation so much as it was  demand), Night, and The Secret Life of Edgar Sawtelle.

6. "When you know better, you do better."

{They were laughing at the hilarious joke I just told them. You know, because they're my best friends and we hang out all the time.}

This quote originally came from Maya, but it is one of my and O's faves.  I remind myself and my students of this idea regularly.

Hope for the Publishing Industry

When I received a Kindle for Christmas, I somewhat skeptically entered the world of digital books. I found myself torn. I love the fact that the Kindle allows me to carry over 1,000 books around in my purse. I love that it lets me underline and annotate, and I love that I can look up unfamiliar words without going to the dictionary or the internet. Plus, replacing tens of thousands (millions?) of pages with one digital device seems like the eco-conscious thing to do.

That said, I hate the thought that there could come a day when publishers no longer see the benefit of producing physical books. I can't imagine living in a home without books, I love libraries and book stores, and an email notification that you have been gifted a digital download can never replace a the gift of an actual book with a handwritten inscription from a loved one.

Recently, I started to think that I would compromise by buying physical copies of books that I'm likely to return to - books of poetry and classics that I hope my kids will want to read, for example. When I came across these pictures of books that Penguin Classics will be releasing in the fall, I knew that was the way to go. I have no idea how much these will cost, but I need to own these. I'm not sure if you can tell from the picture, but the covers are embroidered.

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com via Kate on Pinterest

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com

Source: blog.jilliantamaki.com

Seriously, how gorgeous are these books? Here are two more book covers designed by another talented artist; these are from Random House.

Source: creaturecomfortsblog.com 

 

I'm not familiar with Night at the Circus, but I know that I want that copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to come live on my bookshelf. So, new plan: I will buy digital copies of untested, popular fiction, and I will not feel guilty about it. When it comes to classics, the books I know I love, I will be willing to shell out a few extra bucks for a hard copy, and I won't feel guilty about that either.

Nerd Alert

I am an admitted nerd, so it should not be too surprising that I added the Daily Literary Quote application to my Google homepage. Every morning when I sit down with my tea for the day's first check of email and news, I am greeted by a quote from an author or an excerpt from a piece of literature. Today's quote gave me goosebumps and made me miss Anne (with an e) more than I thought it was possible to miss a fictional character. I wish that I could go back in time and meet Anne Shirley, Matthew and Marilla, and Diana Barry all over again.

It was November-the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines, Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let the great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.
~L.M. Montgomery

Books

I have loved books for as long as I can remember. In fact, one of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor in the stacks at the Coronado library deciding which Nancy Drew to read (or reread) next. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry, travel, biography, memoir, even cookbooks, I love them all, and so bookstores are some of my favorite places. I love that I live within walking distance of a street with not one, but two used bookstores. Today, I had a lovely excuse to visit both 5th Avenue Books and Bluestocking Books.

I became an English teacher in part because of my passion for reading. It is something that has given me so much joy, and as I slogged through the education theory classes of my teacher ed program, I imagined sharing my love of reading with my students. I looked forward to discussing books with them. I imagined turning them on to the way that books allow you to get around the cruel fact that we have only this one life to live, because books allow you to live vicariously, to try on different lives and walk for awhile along someone else's path. The reality of teaching, however, has been somewhat different from what I envisioned.

I teach struggling readers, ninth graders whose reading abilities are below grade level. Some of my students are getting close to proficiency, reading at about a seventh grade level, others read at fifth or sixth grade level, and still others read about as well as proficient second graders. Not surprisingly, most of my students hate reading; I mean they really loathe it. During our daily silent reading time, many of them will sit and stare blankly at their fingernails rather than attempt to read. I can't say that I blame them; I hate doing things that I'm not good at...taking out the garbage or vacuuming for instance.

{My old friends Tom and J.D. ... I'm unfamiliar with Luis, but I'm sure he's swell}

 In all seriousness though, I get it. I always loved reading because I was good at it; math, however, I detested because I was not good at it. It makes sense. Still, adjusting to the reality of the population that I'm teaching has been a struggle. It's not that I feel sorry for myself because instead of moderating great literary debates on color symbolism in The Great Gatsby or issues of justice in The Stranger, I am actually teaching reading. Rather, the hardest part for me is seeing how committed to hating reading some of my students are. It really breaks my heart to know what they are missing out on, especially because these are the kids who most need the escape of reading.

This is all a lot of background to explain why after work today, I happily went to three bookstores in search of a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Today Peter, a kid who has been defiantly refusing to finish a book all year, suddenly turned a corner and said that he really wanted to read The Wizard of Oz (primarily written at the Hotel Del, by the way). The only copy that our school library had was a monumentally intimidating 600 page annotated version which threatened to squash any positive momentum in Peter's reading life. So when I failed to turn up a copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz at either of the used bookstores by my house, I headed to Border's, found a copy in five minutes and then spent another fifty strolling the aisles.

I'm not sure what brought about the sudden shift in Peter's willingness to make a serious attempt at completing a book. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that he, along with many of his reluctant reader peers, is thoroughly enjoying the novel that I have been reading aloud to the class. For many of them it will be the first novel that they have ever completed. I am doing all of the reading while they follow along and even after forty-five minutes, when my voice is completely shot from my spirited interpretation of the various characters, they beg me to keep reading. When I first started teaching, I would never have guessed how much ninth graders like to be read to, but they do. I suspect that many of them have never had anything read to them for the simple pleasure of enjoying a good story. It also helps that we are reading a Vietnam war story with realistic dialogue which means they get to hear their teacher drop the F-bomb every few pages.

Soooo, today I'm grateful for books, for authors, for the owners of used bookstores who have the will to survive on what I can only imagine are very thin margins in these economic times. I'm thankful for the power of a well-told story (and a few strategic F-bombs) to capture a student's attention. I'm also very much looking forward to the effect of the guilt trip I am going to lay on Peter tomorrow when I explain that I went to three bookstores in search of this book so he damn well better finish it.

Unrelated, but also enjoyed this evening was this sign:

I wonder if imaginary Boston Terriers are invited to the Tea Pawty... I think Emerson would quite enjoy the outing.

{My imaginary dog as photographed by daphenator}