Stardust

In the soul-sister spirit of Anna Quindlen, it’s widely known in a small circle that I make a mean spaghetti sauce, I can spy a surprisingly stunning paint swatch, and I have a semi-successful sideline in matchmaking.  More importantly, I have a gift for making friends—an eye for the very best.  The odds weren’t in my favor of finding Rachel in a packed and bustling JFK International airport.  Admittedly, providence stepped in.  Still within 5 minutes of our first real conversation, I knew she was a keeper.  Who wouldn’t draw close to light? Of course, I was young.  My brain wasn’t fully developed.  There was no way to know then that I had discovered a once-in-a-lifetime friend.

Yes, this is a blog about the best books.  But it’s as much about a consummate friendship.  A friendship that started in a noisy airport terminal, flourished in a foreign country, and thrived immeasurably over years.  It’s one for the books.  For me, some of the most exquisite reads revolve around timeless friendships that are a lot like winter’s first generous snowfall—it beckons you to watch from the window with quiet wonder.

I’m sure I’ve learned how to be a friend, in part, from reading.  I learned about the constancy of friendship from Minny & Abileen.  No matter how ugly life got, they’d pull through because they had each other. Miriam’s sacrifice for Laila reminds me that the most profound relationships are rooted in unselfishness. I shudder to think what if Hamlet didn’t have Horatio?  So maybe your best friend claims to have seen a ghost…or per chance, he tries to kill his uncle—as a best friend, it’s your job to love and support him anyway.  Oh and don’t forget, it was Horatio who lived to tell Hamlet’s story.  I don’t want that job for just anyone—a trusted task for Rae or a sister of mine.

Real friendships should provide us shade and cover.  Respite.  Honestly, I don’t know everything the magical formula entails.  I do know it when I see it.  Rachel and I…we show up.  We listen. We laugh.  The rest is just stardust.

Posted by Tracy

Throwback Thursday

I do love secondhand books that open to the page some previous owner read oftenest. The day Hazlitt came he opened to "I hate to read new books," and I hollered "Comrade!" to whoever owned it before me.

Tracy and I have a list of people we're best friends with in our minds. Anna Quindlen is one. Rachel Remen is another. Emma Thompson definitely makes my list as well. And Helene Hanff. If she were still alive, and I somehow lived down the hall from her New York City apartment, we'd spend long afternoons talking about books and our love for quaint little Englishmen who work in bookshops. We'd also laugh about our hopelessly horrible math skills (My algebra teacher, Mr. Moots, will vouch for mine). When asking for book prices to be given in dollars, rather than pounds, Hanff writes: "Will you please translate your prices hereafter? I don't add too well in plain American, I haven't a prayer of ever mastering bilingual arithmetic."

If you love books, London, and charming used bookshops, this classic is for you. 84, Charing Cross Road, published in 1970, is a collection of real letters, spanning over twenty years, between Hanff and Mark Doel, a book dealer at London's Marks & Co.. Despite the miles between them, the difference in cultures, and the fact that they never meet, they develop a friendship that does what all the best friendships do: changes them both for good.

It's a quick read, as in you can read this in a day quick. Which is sad, because it will leave you wanting so much more of Helene and Frank, and yet beautiful, because you can read it again and again.

I've yet to see it, but it was made into a movie in 1987, staring Anne Bancroft, Anthony Hopkins, and Judi Dench. Of course, true to Hollywood form, they've turned it into a love story, and not the book loving kind. Blatant embellishment aside, I plan on Netflixing this pronto.

Posted by Rachel

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.