Somewhere South Of The Moon And North Of Hell

Luck is the star we steer by.

We called her Grandma with the Chickens. She was no-nonsense, yet also mischievous, with a hearty, deep down honest laugh. She wasn't a hugger, but whenever I walked into her home, heard the familiar "Howdy," and smelled her fried chicken and homemade biscuits, I knew I was loved. The lines on her face spoke of a hard life: one that moved her from farm to farm as my grandfather searched for greener pastures, with eleven children underfoot, and just enough money to keep a roof, albeit a small one, over their heads. There was no time to speak of love, she was too busy showing it.

So when Ivan Doig introduced me to Gram in Last Bus to Wisdom, I found I already knew her. This happens a lot with Doig; his characters feel like old friends. And like a true friend, they stay with you long after you've read the last page. Eleven year-old Donal (minus the d) Cameron, is one of those friends. As with Rusty in Doig's The Bartender's Tale, I found myself not only rooting for him, but wanting to adopt him.

We meet Donal aboard the dog bus (Greyhound) where he wrestles with homesickness for his Gram and nervous anticipation of meeting his great aunt Kate.  It's 1951, and Gram's illness has forced him to leave the Double W ranch in Montana for Manitowoc, Wisconsin, to spend the summer with an aunt he's never met. Armed with an autograph book and all the money he has, which isn't much, pinned to the inside of his shirt, Donal experiences his first kiss, has a run-in with a squirrelly sheriff, and finds an unlikely ally, along with a slew of other memorable characters. Great Aunt Kate turns out to be nothing short of a henpecking bully, but Donal finds a friend in her beleaguered husband, Herman the German. Circumstances soon lead Donal and Herman back on the dog bus, headed for "somewhere south of the moon and north of hell," where they'll find wisdom and goodness in the most unexpected of places. Trust me, you'll be glad you came along for the ride.

Reading Doig reminds me of sitting around the table with my dad and uncles as they regaled us with tales of their youth. It feels like home. While The Bartender's Tale remains my favorite of Doig's work, Last Bus to Wisdom and The Whistling Season are in a close race for second. Sadly, this is his last novel, he passed away before it was published, and I feel bereft over the loss of his magical storytelling. I take comfort in the books he left that line my shelves, to be read time and again. I owe this man an ode.

Posted by Rachel

A Not So Jolly Holiday With Mary

Halloween and I have a complicated relationship. Our troubles began when I was six and dressed up as my favorite hero: Mary Poppins. I set out with my brothers, clutching my umbrella and magical bag, with visions of Mr. Goodbars dancing in my head. It would be a jolly holiday, indeed. My brothers were older and faster, and wearing practical shoes—turns out Mary Janes aren't the best trick-or-treating footwear, so I struggled to keep up all night. Finally, seeing them already knocking at the next door, I decided to throw caution to the wind and cut across the yard. With my eyes on nothing but the candy ahead, I failed to notice the chicken wire protecting their flowers, and well...Mary Poppins took flight, much to the unabashed joy of my brothers. Pulling my six-year-old self together, I stumbled to the door, ripped tights, torn bag, big tears welling up in my little eyes, only to be harangued by the meanest lady I'd ever met for daring to run through her yard. So severe was her wrath that it even silenced my heckling brothers. For a minute, anyway.

I bounced right back the next year as Miss America. Clearly, I still hadn't learned the whole practical shoes lesson. But Halloween had lost some of its luster, and as I grew older I became even less of a fan of dressing up. Then followed a few blissful years of not having to participate in the whole shebang, only to be thrown head first into the world of kids and costumes and school parties. Eek.

Halloween is not without its redeeming qualities: pumpkins, roasted pumpkin seeds, and most especially pumpkin spice donuts, crisp night air, trick-or-treaters at my door, costumes—as long as I don't have to make or wear them—and, of course, spooky reads. And the candy. Definitely the candy.

BE THE HALLOWEEN HERO

(best read-aloud books to get a classroom cheering)

"Wiener Dog, Wiener Dog!" the other dogs mercilessly tease Oscar. His mother doesn't help matters by calling him her "little Vienna Sausage" and coming up with the worst Halloween costume ever. But when Oscar has the chance for the last laugh, he chooses kindness, and that makes all the difference.

This brave little old lady has her fearlessness put to the test.

You'll never be sorry when you make room for more friends—on your broom or in your heart.

"Everyone we know is giving out candy?! I can wear that."

SPOOKY CHAPTER BOOKS

A story of a boy, raised by ghosts, living in a graveyard. Your kids will love it.

What's scarier than Miss Trunchbull?

Make a deal with your kids: read the book, see the movie. Jack Black is great incentive.

Sophie and the BFG (big friendly giant) set out to save the world's children from the other not-so-friendly giants.

A BOOK TO SCARE YOUR OWN SOCKS OFF

Don't read this at night. Alone. You've been warned.

Posted by Rachel

We Hear You, Anna

I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves. —Anna Quindlen

We've given our bookshelf a makeover! Head over and have a look by choosing the tab above, or because it's Monday, and we know you're exhausted, here it is. Gift guide coming soon!

Throwback Thursday

Look for happiness under your own roof.

I’m a happy girl: sunny not saccharine. And despite not having the wind in my hair for years now because of life’s tough stuff, my laughter is still genuine and hardy. From the belly. Put me in the same space as Rachel and I’m like a room without a roof.  (Just ask Pharrell.)

So if you’re eternally happy despite not having a spotless mind, do you read a book about happiness?  Absolutely. I can’t remember if I gave Rachel The Happiness Project or if she gave it to me?  (That happens a lot.) At any rate, it’s a winner.  Happiness guru, Gretchen Rubin, reminds us that practice makes pretty perfect, especially when applied to contentment. The project reflects her yearlong study of tracking monthly goals to magnify her happiness quotient.  

This book is packed with fascinating facts about the science of happiness.  It’s practical stuff, not preachy. (Thank Heaven or Gretchen: you choose.) One month (chapter), you’ll learn to be more serious about play, another month focuses on lightening up.  Is it earth-shattering info?  No. But that’s the point. Happiness is not a Mount Everest climb. Recently, The Huffington Post shared a piece about signs of happiness and how to stay that way.  It jives with Rubin’s advice. Symptoms of cheerfulness are pretty static: don’t sweat the small stuff, make new friends, live in the moment, and appreciate the little things—among others.  But Rubin gives us great reminders and rich examples that can re-focus our efforts to follow our bliss.  You know, serenity now stuff.

Posted by Tracy

I Love Me a Curmudgeon

You only need one ray of light to chase all the shadows away.

I triple dog dare you not to fall in love with Ove (pronounced oo-va). And if by chance you don't, please refrain from telling me: you'll break my besotted heart. Ove is a self-described "archetypal grumpy old sod" who's as good at backing up U-Hauls and yelling at neighbors as he is bad at dying. It's a story about how everyone needs to be needed, how friendships can end over the purchase of a BMW, and how beneath one man's crusty exterior lies a heart that is too big.

If you're a fan of listening to books, A Man Called Ove is a great listen. There's just something about having Ove's voice grumbling in your head. Be forewarned: this book will induce bend-over laughter and tears at random so you may look a little silly if you're listening while out in public. I should also warn you that you'll end up investing in the actual book as well so you can mark page after page of favorite passages and read it over and over again. When you've finished (oh how I dread that word when it comes to a great book), and are in need of consolation, read an interview with the author here. He's a bit curmudgeonly himself and I swear I almost like him as much as Ove.

* (January 12, 2016) In talking to a few of my friends about this book, I'm realizing Ove may need to come with a warning label. While I loved this curmudgeon from the get-go, for some he appears to be more of an acquired taste. But fall in love they did, so stick with this one if at first you aren't as besotted as I am.

Posted by Rachel

This Book Deserves A Standing O

Everyone deserves a standing ovation because we all overcometh the world.

A close friend of mine once admitted that she’d rather lose a friend than a book—at first, I thought that was genuine hyperbole. Then I realized she was stone cold serious. Wow. What a stunning statement. I love books like I love Mexican food and clean sheets and a stout fire during a winter storm, not to mention the sound of my kids’ honest laughter or a sincere embrace, but I wouldn’t sacrifice most relationships for pages—even with Jane Austen’s words on them. (Jane v. Rachel wins in a knock out, Round 1.)

Then again, we do find friends in books, don’t we? I feel close to Scout Finch (and, of course, her dad Atticus), Jean Valjean, Anne Elliot, Cassandra Mortmain, the Birches, Minny, Mariam, and more recently, Auggie Pullman. True, I have a boy named Luke with special needs, so I’m especially drawn to endearing 10-year-old Auggie, but I have zero doubt you will be too.  

R.J. Palacio’s young adult book Wonder introduces us to Auggie Pullman who is blighted by a rare medical facial deformity. His abnormalities are so bad that 27 surgeries can’t erase it. His face provokes kids to ask if he was in a fire or if he is a zombie—or to just scream and run away. Auggie’s non-description of his face is no less harrowing, albeit vague: “I won’t describe what I look like. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably worse.”

When Auggie’s brilliant and remarkably supportive parents suggest that he participate in the 5th grade rather than continue homeschooling, he’s terrified. Horrified. But Ramona has nothing on Auggie Pullman the Brave, who forges ahead at Beecher Prep Middle School. His fears weren’t ill-founded. Kids are downright cruel to him at times. Auggie’s resilience is copious—it’s inspiring. While he has to carve his own path, one riddled with unique difficulties, he’s fortunate to experience a tangible closeness with his family that is ultimately a transformative force for good. He also finds out you can get through middle school without hurting anyone’s feelings, that’s really cool beans!

This is the sort of enchanting book that isn’t action-packed per se, but it’s soulful. As you follow Auggie through the halls of Beecher Prep and experience his highs and lows, you’ll catch yourself feeling deeply for him. (I cried more than once and young adult books seldom, if ever, make me weep.) In fact, you’ll begin to wonder if kindness isn’t the most important practice of all—not because of schmaltzy prose or crazy sentimentality, but because of a prolific boy who possesses more courage and kindness behind his ill-placed eyes than most others. “Maybe the universe does take care of its most fragile creations in ways we can’t see.”

P.S. i read Wonder to Luke and naturally he loved Auggie too.

Posted by Tracy

* Because we're huge fans of kids and great books, we'll bring the two together every week on Kid Lit Tuesdays. If you find one you love, share it with your child's teacher. Rachel gave Wonder to her son's 7th grade reading teacher and she based the entire 7th grade curriculum around it the following year. We can't think of a better lesson for middle schoolers to be learning than kindness.

Ain't Nothin' Like the Real Thing, Baby

Tracy is a purist. When it comes to fizzy beverages, it’s Coke: straight up, fully sugared, with the right amount of ice–preferably pebbled–or NOTHING. I’m a bit more flexible. Sure, all things considered and in the perfect circumstances, I prefer a Coke Zero with pebbled ice, but if the situation calls for it, I’ll happily substitute a Diet Coke, less happily a Diet Dr. Pepper, and rather begrudgingly, a Diet Pepsi—especially if I can mix in some regular Pepsi. I mean I love my Coke Zero, like addiction-level love, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Popcorn and Duds demand fizz, and if Diet Pepsi is the only offering, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Not Tracy. I’ve personally witnessed her swallow down her popcorn and Jujyfruits with...gasp…water. I can’t even imagine.

So it comes as no surprise that Tray turns her nose up at audiobooks. In her mind, audiobooks are a woeful imitation, the ugly stepsister masquerading as the lovely Cinderella. While she’s never actually tried one, she pitches her tent squarely in the camp of Joe Queenan, author of One for the Books, who declared: “I do not listen to audiobooks for the same reason I do not listen to baked ziti: it lacks the personal touch.”

Hold on there, Joe, I beg to differ. I’ll admit my tent was once smack dab in the middle of your camp, right next to my “no e-readers for me” tent (that one’s still standing, but that is another story for another day). Once I actually tried listening to a book, I found it to be quite the opposite: listening to books often adds a personal touch. Especially if it's Adriana Trigiani bringing Ave Maria to life in Big Stone Gap or the voices of Minny and Aibileen in The Help. William Kent Krueger, author of Ordinary Grace, reminds us that "stories come out of the oral tradition." The art of storytelling has been around far longer than books on the page. For me, there are some books where listening heightens the experience: The Help, The Invention of Wings, All the Light We Cannot See, and pretty much any book by Ivan Doig, to name a few. Now that's not to say I don't go out and buy the actual book as well. I do that way more than I'll ever admit to if my husband is doing the asking. Books like All the Light We Cannot See, Rules of Civility, and The Bartender's Tale have sentences so divine they demand to be savored. So I buy them, reread them, and mark passages to return to again and again. And admittedly, there are books that something is lost when you listen to them, like The Book Thief.

All this to say that while I know I'll never win Tracy over, if you love a good listen, I'll let you know when I've listened to a book and whether or not I recommend it (just check the listening section on our bookshelf). So happy listening or reading...or both!

Posted by Rachel

Throwback Thursday

I am haunted by humans.

Throwin’ it back a decade today.  Ten years older, and I’m still celebrating Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. Some books simply have staying power. Some books draw me in and never let me completely leave.  One of my mom’s favorite writers, Pat Conroy, professed this wisdom in his book My Reading Life:

Here's what I love: when a great writer turns me into a Jew from Chicago, a lesbian out of South Carolina, or a black woman moving into a subway entrance in Harlem. Turn me into something else, writers of the world. Make me Muslim, heretic, hermaphrodite. Put me into a crusader's armor, a cardinal's vestments. Let me feel the pygmy's heartbeat, the queen's breast, the torturer's pleasure, the Nile's taste, or the nomad's thirst. Tell me everything that I must know. Hold nothing back.

Zusak turned me into an embattled, gutsy German schoolgirl named Liesel Meminger.  
Liesel lives in Germany with her foster family during World War II, still reeling from her brother’s death and her mother’s willful disappearance. Her new papa, Hans Hubermann, (an instant beloved literary father figure for Rae and me, so naturally, you’re bound to love him) comforts her by teaching her to read.  Words soothe her.  

Death is the narrator of the novel, which is a new one.  Zusak needed a storyteller who could share Liesel’s dauntless point of view, but he also needed someone to supply snapshots of the war outside of Himmel Street to offer sobering and inspiring insights into the human condition.  We can see the horror and the sublime of human choice.  I was also reminded that many Germans became bonafide victims of war.  

Of course there’s resilience in precocious Liesel that inspires palpable hope in me, it will you too—the kind of hope Anne Frank gave us.  The Book Thief is a hauntingly beautiful novel that deserves to be read more than once over the years.

When you’ve finished this captivating read, check out the movie.  It will move you too.  Here’s a sneak peek:

Posted by Tracy