December Reading Log

100 Cupboards, by N.D. Wilson
Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens
Pinocchio, by Carlo Collodi
The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin (again)
Meet the Austins, by Madeleine L'Engle (again)
Adventures of Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain
Natural History of Make-Believe, by John Goldthwaite
Eclipse, by Stephenie Meyer
New Moon, by Stephenie Meyer
Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer

Scoop of the e-e-evening: 100 Cupboards

I may have plunked down the money for 100 Cupboards, but my brother won the first-dibs tug of war. I had to work. In my absence, he devoured Nate Wilson’s newest contribution to the literary world, and could barely refrain from inundating me with spoilers the moment I got home. However, I finished my review first. Ha.

So many fantasy books are like baby pools—they get your feet wet, but that’s about all. Cupboards promises depth, dives below the surface, and delivers.

Twelve-year-old Henry York enters a world of tumbleweed, baseball and caffeine when his parents are kidnapped and he is sent to stay with relatives in Kansas. There, he meets Uncle Frank, Aunt Dotty, his three cousins, Penelope, Henrietta and Anastasia, and discovers something mysterious about the wall behind his bed: it contains portals to other worlds.

Random example of why I keep reading Wilson: “There were only two people alive who would recognize the wood in that door. One was a man living in a run-down apartment in a bad part of Orlando. He would have recognized it and then tried to find something strong to drink, because he wanted very much to believe that his childhood had not actually happened.”

Life in Kansas is ordinary, and some readers might feel that Wilson takes too long introducing elements of fantasy. They forget—we all do—just how magical ordinary life really is when you come to think of it. We’ve trained ourselves to believe that excitement = haunted ballrooms, evil queens, bloody daggers, and missing damsels. While the story eventually delivers all the above, 100 Cupboards spends quite a bit of time unfurling its petals, reminding readers that every moment of life is miraculous, not just full bloom.

And there’s plenty to keep looking forward to. Unlike Shakespeare's Women, who “die, even when they to perfection grow,” 100 Cupboards is the first of a projected trilogy. 2008 will bring the next installment, Dandelion Fire, and with it, N.D. Wilson promises to dive even deeper.

.

In the meantime, I'm rereading this one out loud to the CC.

Notable 2007 Discoveries

This isn't a Best of 2007 list, but a mixture of old and new that I stumbled across for the first time this year. Any suggestions for me to investigate in 2008?

A Countess Below Stairs
by Eva Ibbotson

This is a curl-up story about a Russian girl whose family must flee their homeland during the Revolution of 1917. In England, Anna hires herself out as a maid to the household of Lord Rupert, a young man just released from an army hospital. The characters who inhabit their neighborhood are a delight. Yes, plot lines are somewhat fudgy, but A Countess Below Stairs made a lovely impression on my year.

I Capture the Castle
by Dodie Smith

Recommended by someone I hadn't seen in years, it was eerie how well this book fit my tastes. Cassandra Mortmain begins her journal with the words, "I write this sitting in the kitchen sink," and her voice throughout is just as entertaining as that promises. She lives in a crumbling, isolated old castle where nothing ever happens, with her father, a writer suffering from writer's block, her sister, Rose, a beauty without suitors, her step-mother, Topaz, a former model, her younger brother, and their "hired" hand, Stephan (they can't afford to pay him). But then, one day (of course) two young men move into the neighborhood. The book may not have a brick-wall ending, but it leaves you thinking about the story for many days.
.
The Star of Kazan
by Eva Ibbotson

This book blew me away! The Star of Kazan is a dusty book at my library, an ugly 2004 paperback charged by two or three patrons all year, including myself. More’s the pity. Ibbotson, a children’s author known for ghosts-and-witches tales, produced a glowing sport when she wrote The Star of Kazan, a novel worthy of comparison to The Secret Garden. Beautifully-written and delightfully-plotted, The Star of Kazan is replete with long-lost mothers, Russian jewels, gypsies, castles, despicable villains, Lipizzaner stallions, and unforgettable characters. Its virtual obscurity is a disgrace. Circulate this story among all the girls you know—but read it yourself, first!
.
Roller Skates
by Ruth Sawyer

Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this book? Ruth Sawyer knew what she was doing when she wrote Roller Skates. Her Way of the Storyteller sets forth a wonderful ideal for people who deal in words, and this novel puts theories to action. Lucinda is a girl free for the first--and perhaps only--time in her life. While her parents are abroad, she stays with two maiden teachers who believe children should be given space to breathe. Breathe Lucinda does, befriending a cabbie, a fruit-seller's family, an Oriental princess, a penniless toddler. She skates into many adventures along the way, some provoking laughs, others tears. The book is old-fashioned, but in the very best sense, and deserves every bit of that Newbery sticker.

Leepike Ridge
by N.D. Wilson

Hundreds of boy-books are written each year, but only handful deserve to be read. Leepike Ridge tops that list. According to the author, most people believe "once upon a time" happened somewhere far, far away. But, he continues, that depends where you are. This adventure tells of a town-next-door where extraordinary things happen--because we live in an extraordinary world. With dead bodies, wet dogs, unexpected treasures, missing persons, and a satisfying conclusion, Leepike Ridge deserves the 2008 Newbery in my book. Read it!

My IlluStory Obsession: Two Noisy Monkeys

I’ve had an IlluStory Kit sitting on my desk for months now, trying to work up the energy such projects require. I’d planned on redoing one of the clown-and-his-dog “Tootsie and Roll” stories I wrote and illustrated several years ago for my little brother. But I never got around to it. Then, two weeks ago, my littlest brother was in a sleepy, story-deprived mood, and forced me to mumble out something about noisy monkeys and a man trying to sleep (guess who wanted to go to bed?). Three million encores later, with Littlest Brother reciting along with me, I decided to add illustrations. Enter IlluStory. The pictures came out so adorable, I had to post a few. Now all I have left to do is wait for the mailman.

(Notice the portrait of H.A. Rey, the literary forefather of all monkey stories!)

.

There was once a man who was so tired he could barely walk upstairs,

barely brush his teeth,

and barely put on his pajamas.

Etc., etc.

Copyright 2007 Noel De Vries

Merry Christmas To All!

The infant Jesus in Adoration of the Shepherds, Gerald van Honthorst

Favorite Librarian Gift

I love it!! Gifts are so impressive when they enable you to rattle off, "You want a book on tea? 641.3372 Right this way."

Annual Christmas Reads

Most of these books were integral parts of my childhood--Angel Mae, Silent Night, The Donkey's Dream, The Clown of God--all stories my mom read to me over and over and over again. I felt old, searching for images and discovering you can't even buy some of the books anymore. What a travesty! The Others have added a couple of favorites since I was little. These are such the best stories ... try a few yourself, this Christmas!

.

.

Angel Mae, by Shirley Hughes

The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, by Susan Wojciechowski

Silent Night, illustrated by Susan Jeffers

If You're Missing Baby Jesus, by Jean Gietzen

The Donkey's Dream, by Barbara Berger

The Clown of God, by Tomie dePaola

BBC Ballet Shoes (that girl looks familiar...)

Okay, maybe I'm a bit partial to "Ballet Shoes" because of the author. I mean, Noel Streatfeild. Such a nice name. And nicely spelled, too.

The Others weren't enthusiastic about her magnum opus when I forced it on them, but we found a lovely audio version, narrated in cheery British accents, and they dutifully agreed that Pauline, Petrova and Posy were all right (Posy's catlike "We vow" is a staple in our quote repertoire).

When we discovered the old 1975 BBC version of the novel, there were plenty of smiles. It very much resembles our forays into film making ... good old BBC, budget-less yet faithful to the last.

And now there's a new adaption on the horizon: December 26th, for those lucky enough to be within range. My hopes aren't high (I mean, see image). But a small step up from the last attempt is worth checking into. The DVD arrives January 7th, if you live in the UK. Poor, unfortunate Americans must wait indefinitely. Well, as they say, read the book, don't wait for the movie.

Scoop of the e-e-evening: The Westing Game

I think the CC goes back to my first (age eleven) reading of Little Women. The March sisters' Pickwick Club sounded delicious--a society of siblings, writing their own newspaper, putting on plays, reading, doing whatever popped into their heads. The CC--Children's Council--was born. I've no idea who suggested the name, or why we decided on that particular phrase. But The Children's Council we have been ever since.

Our CC Gazette went out of print years ago, and plays evolved into movies, but we still read together: me, stretched out on the sofa, throat going hoarse but still doing every character's voice, The Others sprawled across chairs, rug, and toasting before the fire.

The latest addition to our repertory is Ellen Raskin's The Westing Game. Such the best opportunities for voices, that story! And discussions! Everyone had their own opinion about who killed Mr. Westing, and those opinions were discussed during chores, while school was supposed to be happening, in the car, over dinner. Who needs a book club when you have younger siblings?

So here are their impressions, youngest to oldest (spoiler alert!).

.

9: It’s interesting and I like how Mr. Westing disguises himself as one of his heirs. I like how it says Happy Fourth of July and all the fireworks go off in his house. I thought it was funny how he “supposedly” died, but the body was wax. My favorite characters were Turtle and Flora and Mr. Hoo, (“Go study, go study!”) and I liked Chris the birdwatcher. I think they should write another one like it.

11: I like how the mystery is not like a normal mystery because Mr. Westing didn’t die when they think he did. I like how the author spread out the characters and made them from different countries and places. My favorite characters were Sandy and Turtle because of their personalities. Sandy used a Scottish accent and was always giving off clues even though you didn’t know it. Turtle was my age and she kicked everybody in the shins. It made it more mysterious when everyone limped and you had to figure out which one was the limper Chris saw.

14: I thought it was very well-written and the author gave you just enough hints to keep you guessing and keep you interested in the book, without giving too much away. I liked Theo. [Why?] I just liked him.

17: It’s a book you definitely have to finish because you can’t figure out the answer until the last page. It’s very suspenseful. I like how the author was omnipotent throughout the book so you could get into all the characters’ minds, that way you could explore more ground. It was tricky to solve the mystery because there were so many clues, and a lot were red herrings. This is a fast read that is light and enjoyable. You can’t put it down—it’s very engaging.

Happy Birthday, Jane!

Happy Birthday to Jane Austen!

And Beethoven!

And me!

.

"I think I may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress."
Jane Austen, in a letter to James Stanier Clarke, 11 Dec 1815

Little Beauties: Emily Dickinson

Our lives are Swiss

by Emily Dickinson

OUR lives are Swiss,—
So still, so cool,
Till, some odd afternoon,
The Alps neglect their curtains,
And we look farther on.

Italy stands the other side,
While, like a guard between,
The solemn Alps,
The siren Alps,
Forever intervene!

Scoop of the e-e-evening: The Natural History of Make-Believe

I recently finished The Natural History of Make-Believe, by John Goldthwaite—just the kind of juicy-dry study I love. Juicy, because he probes the inner workings of fairy tales heirs, and dry, because … he probes the inner workings of fairy tales heirs. Goldthwaite tends to prattle on when the reader would rather get on (100 pages on the subliminal Alice in Wonderland, for example), but in spite of that I gleaned several new opinions and gobs of interesting quotes.

In the same breath, I chucked Goldthwaite’s stuffy analysis of C.S. Lewis. Honestly, hasn’t all that “self-absorbed misogynist” stuff been hashed out a hundred times? It’s beyond me how millions of children can adore his Chronicles when, apparently, Lewis was just using Narnia as a vehicle for his poisoned pen.

But on to a (rather extended) sampling of my juicy notes and quotes:

Magic realism … when the miraculous becomes real by association with the mundane and the mundane is transformed by its association with the miraculous.

With the advent of the fairy godmother, we have crossed the threshold of the church … a composite of Christian and pagan elements.

Where the light of agape is occluded, Poetic Genius will be found floundering in the dark, spitting out scorn and non-sense.

To awaken rather than impress the meaning … what the reader sees is not a rite but a wonder.

Because it presents the child with a portrait of a world he is, in real life, only just coming to know, every book teaches a new way of thinking about that world. The question is not whether a book teaches but what and how and whether its intent is to humanize a child or merely to socialize him.

Didactic purpose in children’s stories (see the Lobster Quadrille, porpoise=purpose): inevitable inclusion vs. intrusion. Very fine line.

Such a belief, that the world is Sustained in its travels, is the one just warrant for inflicting pain in a children’s book—for only by its felt presence can the pain be borne.

The business of fantasy authors is the business of miracles; their problem, in an age of rapid secularization, is how to redefine miracles so as to preserve them for the sake of the story. For what do you tell children when your instincts are for whimsy but you are either without a faith or no longer certain of the underlying warrant for dealing in miracles in the first place?

Feodor Rojankovsky: telling the truth like a tale, telling a tale like the truth.

Allsense, a gift of understanding, a confirmation to the meek and the powerless that they are alive in a world that is indeed invested with the imminence of wonder, which we call mystery, and the imminence of joy, which we call gladness. If these two imminences do not intimate the One imminence of a creative and self-revealing God, furthermore, they must by definition be specious and the miracle stories conveying them vain and sentimental entertainments.

Author as godparent … if an author can discharge his role with a sympathetic wink and a push of the swings (like Perrault), so much the better. Never, however, should he deceive himself that because his tale is only a make-believe for children there is nothing more involved than a jolly hour or two at the playground.

Every work of make-believe announces to a credulous audience that the world is possessed of a quality that is beyond empirical knowing.

The only lasting justification for make-believe literature is the redemptive grace of agape, through which the world, with all its perils and squalor, may be revealed to children as a comic arena socially and a terra incognita invested with true mystery and true light.
.

Last Meyer Post--I Promise

(Until Breaking Dawn is released, of course.)

I thought this was an interesting interview with Stephenie Meyer, hosted by a Mormon Arts blog. They asked several questions that have been running through my own head--where Stephenie's Mormonism intersects with her writing, etc. Considering the saga's popularity, I'm surprised at the absence of Christians commenting on Meyer's worldview. Most seem to dismiss the books when the word "vampire" is mentioned. I'm not saying "inverted archetype" is an invalid objection. Actually, it's my big problem with the novels. Some fans see the Cullens as a metephor for the Christian experience, putting to death sinful inclinations, etc. They fail to recognize that in the end, vampire natures are not overcome. Instead, Bella forsakes her humanity to become (in Jacob Black's words) a bloodsucker.

But I'm still wondering where the Mormonism discussions are.

Writing Quote: Stephenie Meyer

In keeping with my current obsession, a quote on writing from the author of the Twilight Saga:

If you love to write, then write. Don't let your goal be having a novel published, let your goal be enjoying your stories. However, if you finish your story and you want to share it, be brave about it. Don't doubt your story's appeal. If you are a good reader, and you know what is interesting, and your story is interesting to you, then trust in that. If I would have realized that the stories in my head would be as intriguing to others as they were to me, I would probably have started writing sooner. Believe in your own taste.

Pathetic Gushings

I have utterly and completely violated my principles. I have fallen for the kind of book I normally scorn—fallen with a crash that could be heard for miles.

It’s on every List. I hate bestsellers.

It causes millions of teenage girls to gush and sigh and join fan clubs. I back away slowly from that kind of thing.

And I’m hardly a vampire-story sort of person. My favorite novel is Anne of Green Gables, for heaven’s sake.

The book also crumples the traditional archetype that all vampires are bad.

But I just can’t help myself. Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight, and the subsequent novels in her trilogy have me pretty much obsessed.

“Um, that book came out two years ago.” I know. For two years I ignored the series, not even bothering to read it for the benefit of CMAP (Concerned Mothers of Adolescent Patrons). In my disdain, I considered making a shirt, “What’s So Hot About Edward Cullen?” How embarrassing.

Of course, the books aren’t perfect. If I read about one more smirk or snicker… The reorienting opening chapters of New Moon and Eclipse are painful. If someone is dumb enough to read the sequels first, they deserve to be in over their head. If someone is ridiculous enough to forget what was happening at the end of the last novel, they deserve to be muddled. The tone of those recaps is much bumpier, more flippant than the rest of the books. And I hated Eclipse’s epilogue. I wanted to end with Bella and Edward on my mind, not all depressed because of Jacob.

Also, on a completely different note, Meyer’s Mormonism really bothers me. She says, “I am also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints … and that has a huge influence on who I am and my perspective on the world, and therefore what I write.” Very true for any religion, and very bothering, if you look into Mormonism.

Her story is quite interesting.

This was nice to hear: “Up to this point, I had not written anything besides a few chapters (of other stories) that I never got very far on, and nothing at all since the birth of my first son, six years earlier.”

But seriously, “And that's how, in the course of six months, Twilight was dreamed, written, and accepted for publication.” Kind of sickening.

Well, that’s about all the gushing and sighing I have for tonight. I’m off to join the Official I Love Alice Cullen fan club.