Under the Mad Hat

Call me Mr. Darcy, 'cause I too can be proud

2009-12-03T10:42:00.002-04:00

Hi all. I don't know what's up with Google Reader but for some reason it published one of my 2006 posts as new. Thanks to all of you who came over to comment and say hi--especially given that the post was about my Mom and, well, the 10th anniversary of her death is looming later this month. I hope this googly mishap didn't give any of you the false impression that I was back on the blogging wagon, because I'm not. I do have a fun post over at Mouse-traps right now, though, that I think you should check out.

I also wouldn't mind asking you a favour. Pride and Twitterverse has been nominated as the best Canadian Blog Post of 2009. Would you mind voting for it? You would need to vote once between now and December 12th. If I get enough votes to make the finals, I would then appreciate another vote for it sometime after the 13th. I'm kinda proud of that post and would sure appreciate your support. Mouse-traps and the Moon is also up for best Culture/Literature blog. You could vote for it too but with only 12 posts under its belt, I'm not convinced it is a contender this year.

Thanks to all of you.

Tap, tap. Is this thing on?

2009-10-13T15:26:00.003-03:00

Uh, hi. Remember me?

Well, it looks as if I'm not coming back here for a long, long while...or maybe ever. Who knows? I just haven't felt like writing on a personal blog at all lately. This ennui has been building for a long while. There's also the reality that my anonymity, which I guarded so closely for so long, has been shot, and while that was inevitable and is cool I don't really know what my non-anonymous voice sounds like.

What I can tell you is this: I have started a new children's book blog if'n you are interested. I'd love to see you there.

As for this mad space, I will leave it up even though I've taken down most of the 500 posts from the archive. You never know, someday I might need to return here and will know what it feels like once again to call it home.

Pride and Twitterverse

2009-05-20T22:23:00.008-03:00

TheRealJaneAusten:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife.

MrsB:
A Mr Bingley--worth 50,000 followers a year--has joined Twitter! He's brought a friend, Mr Darcy--worth 100,000 followers a year! Pls RT

MrsB:
@JaneB @LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB @LydiaB I will have one of you girls married into internet fame yet. Just you wait.

LizzyB:
@MrsB But mother, I think we can pull ourselves up by our dooce-straps just fine.

MrsB:
Blogcasting: How to find husbands for your daughters: http://tinyurl/momblog Now with free giveaway from our Etsy embroidery shop. Pls RT

LizzieB:
@JaneB If I could love a man who would love me enough to take me for a mere 50 followers, I should be well pleased...

LizzieB:
@JaneB ...but such a man wouldn’t be sensible & I could never love a man who was out of his twits. LOL

JaneB:
Oh @LizzyB, it is my ardent wish to marry 4 love. Love, respect AND dual laptops would be most agreeable. #iamdullbutpretty

CubicleSurfer:
Does anyone know what #Bingley is and why it’s suddenly the no. 1 trending topic?

BoredInTheBurbs:
@CubicleSurfer I think #Bingley’s a he and I’m pretty sure he just died.

POPlovesPOP:
@CubicleSurfer @BoredInTheBurbs No, I’m pretty sure #Bingley’s the new Idol. That doesn’t explain why he’s the no. 1 trending topic, tho.

MaryBsAphorisims:
It behooves us all to resist the temptation of #Idol chatter

MaryBsAphorisims:
I can’t believe I lost 5 followers with that last Tweet. What’s WRONG with you people?

LydiaB:
@JaneB @LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB There's going to be a dance!!! Squeeee!!! I won't sit down all night.

JaneB:
@LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB @LydiaB Do any of you know what you're wearing to the dance? I was thinking virginal white.

LydiaB:
@JaneB @LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB What I wouldn't give for this: http://tiny.cc/S6s7h& a pair of Jimmy Choos. It’s positively #Bella.

KittyB:
@LydiaB No fair! You stole that URL from MY del.icio.us. #sisterfail

LydiaB:
@KittyB del.icio.us? Are you kidding me? How positively 2007. #epicsisterfail

MaryBsAphorisms:
@JaneB @LizzyB @KittyB @LydiaB I confess a dance has few charms for me—I should infinitely prefer a modest Christian blog.

[Email from Twitter to LydiaB: VampireShoeShop is now following you on Twitter. You may follow VampireShoeShop by clicking the Follow button on their profile.]

Bingley:
@Darcy I can hardly wait to dance with @JaneB. She is the most capital girl I have ever met. #loveat1stsight

Darcy:
@Bingley Any savage can dance. #proofofmysuperiority

Bingley:
@Darcy JaneB's sister, Lizzy is pretty. You could dance with her. It would be capital fun.

Darcy:
@Bingley She's tolerable, but she is not handsome enough to tempt me. Also: could you stop saying "capital" so much? #abovemypeers

LizzyB:
@CharlotteL RT @D*rcy "She is tolerable. But she is not handsome enough to tempt me." #twitteratiRtwats #takeyrtweetsprivatefool

LizzyB:
@JaneB @MrsB I may safely promise you never to dance with Mr. D*rcy.

MaryBsAphorisms:
I loves me a stately piano concerto. ♫ http://blip.fm/~6kg1t from Blip.fm

LydiaB:
Oh, @MaryBsAphorisms, you silly goose. No one wants to hear that stodgy old song. We long to dance. Blip us Grimstock.

MaryBsaphorisms:
If I must but I take no joy in it: ♫ http://blip.fm/~6khd6 from Blip.fm

JaneB:
@Bingley Demure grin

Bingley:
@JaneB Capital! Capital indeed!

MrsB:
My @JaneB was much admired at the dance. #Bingley danced with her twice. Post to follow. Pls RT.

Darcy:
Women? There are not ½ dozen who I would consider accomplished. #fb

LizzyB:
@Darcy Like duh. I’m surprised YOU know 6. #urstillavirgin

Darcy:
@LizzyB FYI, it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.

LizzyB:
@Darcy Like, oh I dunno, pride perhaps? Vanity? Self-righteous tweeting?

Darcy:
@LizzyB Pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.

LizzyB:
@Darcy Which one of your last 3 tweets would you like me to nominate for http://tweetingtoohard.com/ ? ‘Cause I think they’re all winners.

Darcy:
@LizzyB Clearly, there is in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil. Yes, I’m tweeting at you.

LizzyB:
@Darcy Yours is to hate everyone.

Darcy:
@LizzyB Where yours is to misunderstand them.

Darcy:
@Darcy Oooo. Having a little twit snit are we, Mr Darcy?

MaryBsAphorisms:
Pride is a very common failing. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed.

MaryBsAphorisms:
Ah but, vanity & pride are different things. Pride relates to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.

MaryBsAphorisms:
What’s with all the dead air out here 2night? Is twitter down again or something?

Mrs B:
Hubs is in his study AGAIN. He has no consideration for my nerves. It vexes me terribly.

LydiaB:
Support our troops! #followfriday @cnlfoster @mrsfoster @regiment @denny @sanderson @wickham Squeee!!!

LizzyB:
@LydiaB Stop twirting. You will get a reputation as the most determined twirt that twitter has ever seen.

Darcy:
I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow. #fb

Darcy:
[Find People on Twitter:
Who are you looking to find? LizzyB]

Darcy:
@biz Why must avatar pictures be so small? #twitterfail

CharlotteL:
@LizzyB Darcy keeps looking at your profile. What’s up with that?

LizzyB:
@CharlotteL I dunno but it’s freaking my shit out. Srsly.

[Email from Twitter to LizzyB: Wickham is now following you on Twitter. You may follow Wickham by clicking the Follow button on their profile.]

Wickham:
Oh woe is me!

Wickham:
How unlucky my lot in life has been!

Wickham:
I am so sick of my friends. If you can even call them that...

LizzyB:
@Wickham Ok, I’ll bite. What’s up?

Wickham:
@LizzyB If only I, honest son of an honest Linux programmer, had not been so grievously wronged by a certain proud, 2.0-savvy man.

LizzyB:
@Wickham RU talking about who I think UR talking about? Developed DRM for I-phone apps? Oprah & Ashton follow him? Follows only 5 tweeps?

Wickham:
@LizzyB The very same. He cheated me out of the open source living his father had promised me. Who could wrong one so noble as me? Oh noes!

LizzyB:
@Wickham Ugh. Further proof of why I hate the Twitterati. Except @theBloggess. She cracks my shit up AND she is a model of propriety.

Wickham:
@LizzyB You seem like a fair minded woman and I desperately need a twosse. Would you like to hear more of my grievances?

LizzyB:
@Wickham Bring ‘em on.

MaryBsAphorisms:
It behooves us all to take very careful thought before pronouncing an adverse judgment on any of our fellow men.

MaryBsAphorisms:
For once, your silence is golden. Thank you, tweeple.

MrCollins:
@MrsB @JaneB @LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB @LydiaB I have it on authority from Lady Oprah de Bourgh that marriage would behoove a man of m... (read more via Twitlonger)

MrsB:
@LizzyB @MaryBsaphorisms @KittyB @LydiaB One of u MUST marry yr cousin, MrCollins. The PC, both laptops & the wireless are entailed to him.

LizzyB, MaryBsaphorisms, KittyB, LydiaB:
@MrsB Ew. We’d rather live off-grid.

MrCollins:
@LizzyB Since accepting my friend request on Facebook, Lady Oprah de Bourgh has condescended to write on my wall as often as once a year in ... (read more via Twitlonger)

MrCollins:
@LizzyB My reasons for marrying are, 1st, that I think it a proper, nay logical, step in developing my ministwee, 2 that it would please my ... (read more via Twitlonger)

MrCollins:
@LizzyB Which brings me to my choice of you as the particular object of my heart’s desire. Your lowly station, situated as you are with 5 si ... (read more via Twitlonger)

LizzyB:
@MrCollins You flatter me greatly with this proposal, but allow me to say AS IF!

MrsB:
@LizzyB @MrCollins LIZZY! NO!!!!! However will I blog when your father is dead and in his grave?

[Friend or Follow: Enter your username: LizzieB
Lizzie B is following MrsB but MrsB no longer follows LizzyB]

MrsB:
Oh, I have such a headache. And no one in this house cares one bit for my suffering. Please let there be new comments on my last post.

[Email from Twitter to CharlotteL: MrCollins is now following you on Twitter. You may follow MrCollins by clicking the Follow button on their profile.]

MrCollins:
Lady Oprah de Bourgh has made it clear that I should make a prudent match as is most befitting a clergyman of my standing and circumstances ... (read more via Twitlonger)

CharlotteL:
@MrCollins I’m all ears. Let’s take it to email, for you are too great a man to be confined by 140 chars.

MrCollins:
@CharlotteL: Oh my dearest heart…

…

MrCollins:
I simply cannot wait to disclose to Lady Oprah de Bourgh knowledge of my recent matrimonial joy with Miss C Lucas who has graciously accepte ... (read more via Twitlonger)

LizzyB:
@CharlotteL: Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte—impossible!

CharlotteL:
@LizzyB I am not romantic. I never was. I ask only for a comfortable home.

CharlotteL:
@LizzyB you will tweet to me, won't you? I don't think I could bear going if you didn't tweet to me.

LizzyB:
@CharlotteL Of course. I’ll even visit you on Facebook but promise me I won’t have to read Mr Collins’ blog.

Darcy:
@Bingley: I think it’s time we both quit Twitter for a while and went back to blogging. These tweeple are beneath us.

Bingley:
@Darcy But, but... Oh if you insist. You are the most capital fellow I have ever met, after all. #Iamapatsy

Wickham:
I just joined a twibe: LittleLadyLovers

JaneB:
@LizzyB Bingley has left Twitter. I must summon the fortitude to overcome this.

LizzyB:
@JaneB I'm sure he loves you still. Why don’t you get a blogger account so you can keep in touch? Our aunt & uncle will let you guest post.

JaneB:
You may be right, @Lizzy. I will comment as demurely as I am able to.

Darcy:
DM to @LizzyB
In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire & love you.

[series of DMs between LizzyB and Darcy]

LizzyB:
WTF?

LizzyB:
Can you deny that you made Bingley quit Twitter thus destroying my sister’s chance for happiness?

Darcy:
I cannot. I even deleted all her comments on his blog so he wouldn’t know she was reading. Marry me anyway?

LizzyB:
And don’t even get me started on your offenses to poor Wickham.

Darcy:
Wickham? Oh yes, poor downtrodden Wickham. #eyeroll

LizzyB:
Gah! You are so haughty!

Darcy:
And you are such a hotty.

LizzyB:
Ugh. You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry. kaithksbye

[Msg to LizzyB from Twitter: Are you sure you want to block Darcy? BLOCK]

EMAIL FROM DARCY TO LIZZYB:
You have blocked me on Twitter which leaves me no other recourse than to email you an honest account of my dealings with Mr Wickham. In short, he is a pedi-perv who tried to bone my sister when she was but 15. He had hoped to marry her for her fortune, but I stopped him. So there.

[Msg fwd to JaneB from LizzyB]

LizzyB:
@JaneB Oh shit. Have I ever made a mistake. Darcy = good. Wickham = bad.

JaneB:
@Lizzy: Whaaa? Wickham’s a pedi-perv? Let’s not tell anyone, ‘kay?

LizzyB:
@JaneB: Pinky promise.

JaneB:
@LizzyB: Pinky promise.

LydiaB:
Mrs Foster has invited me to Brighton to flirt with the Red Coats. SQUEEEEE!!!!

LydiaB:
@Wickham I do hope I will c u there. DM me to let me know if you can cum.

LizzyB:
Am taking a social networking webinar paid for by my Aunt & Uncle. Hope to learn lots.

LizzyB:
@JaneB Get this! We have to review Darcy’s blog. He has the most beautiful template I’ve ever seen.

LizzyB:
@JaneB Holy crap! He just tracked my IP through site meter. AM MORTIFIED!!!

LizzyB:
@JaneB But for some strange reason, he friended me on FB instead of getting mad. Colour me confused.

LizzyB:
@JaneB And now both he AND his sister have left kind messages on my wall. He even liked my status. I am all wonder.

JaneB:
DM to @LizzyB
Lydia has eloped with Wickham. She is ruined. Log off the computer and come downstairs at once.

LizzyB:
[Unblock Darcy]
DM to @Darcy
My sister's run off with Wickham. She has 20 followers. He has no reason to marry her. We are ruined & it's all my fault for not outing him.

Darcy:
I will be offline for the foreseeable future. #fb

LizzyB:
@JaneB We ARE ruined. @Darcy has made it clear that he’d rather give up the Internet than share it with me. #sigh

MaryBsAphorisms:
Loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable. A woman's reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful.

[Email from Twitter to MaryBsAphorisms: Sexxygrl232 is now following you on Twitter. You may follow Sexxygrl232 by clicking the Follow button on their profile.]

MaryBsAphorisms:
I just scored another follower. Yesss!!

LydiaB:
@MrsB You will laugh mother, when you know what I have done. I have married...Wickham!

Mrs B:
@LydiaB Married? You are indeed married? Oh my dear girl. Post to follow. Pls RT

LydiaB:
@LizzyB The wedding was small but lovely. If only Darcy hadn’t been there.

LizzyB:
@LydiaB Whaaaaaa?

LydiaB:
@LizzieB Oh crap. I wasn’t supposed to tell.

Darcy:
I’m back. Did anybody miss me? #fb

Bingley:
So happy to be back! Twitter is the most capital place I’ve ever known! Thanks for giving me the go-ahead to come back, @Darcy.

Bingley:
@JaneB Waves

JaneB:
@Bingley Demure grin

Bingley:
@JaneB Marry me?

JaneB:
@Bingley In a heartbeat. Most demure grin EVER.

Lady Oprah de Bourgh:
@LizzyB I heard a twumer that you plan to marry @Darcy. He is too popular a Tweep for you. You’ll bring us all down. I FORBID it.

LizzieB:
@Oprah Helloooo! Since when are tweeps celebrity sheep? ... Fine. Point taken, but screw you anyway. #herebeforeoprah

Darcy:
@LizzyB You got guts girl, pissing off @Oprah like that. I admire your spunk.

LizzieB:
@Darcy I must thank you for your kindness to my poor sister. Buying out that open source asshat of a husband must have cost you a fortune.

Darcy:
@LizzieB: I did it all for you. Please tell me you no longer think I’m a twit.

LizzieB:
@Darcy: Oh never a twit. I once thought you were a twat but all is forgotten.

Darcy:
@LizzyB My feelings and intentions have not changed. One tweet from you will silence me forever.

LizzieB:
@Darcy I heart you. Truly.

Darcy:
@LizzieB YAY! I’ll tweet your father to ask for your hand.

LizzieB:
@Darcy: Oh you’ll never find him on twitter. Being married to a social-networking mommy blogger keeps his nose in the books.

Darcy:
@LizzyB: Fine. I’ll take this off line. Care to join me?

LizzieB:
I am yours: virtually AND corporally.

TheRealJaneAusten:
'Night Tweeps.

___________________________________________________
Thanks to:
Jane Austen and Andrew Davies (screenwriter for the 1995 BBC miniseries)
@cribchronicles @maryLUE and @threeandholding: my consultants on all things twitty
Painted Maypole for laying down the challenge in the Monday Mission (2 days late, sorry)

Assive welcome here

2009-03-03T23:55:00.005-04:00

I have this niece and she's the cutest little thing you ever did see--big brown eyes, curly black hair, a puppy dog's heart and a bright, warm smile that would melt the heart of Jack Frost in Winter. She's two-and-a-half years old and you have never met a more lovable toddler. Her name is Carrie Ann.

The only trouble is, Carrie Ann isn't two and a half anymore. She somehow grew up while I was getting old and now she's 26. She teaches elementary school on contract in one of the toughest neighbourhoods in Canada. She loves the arts, plays ball hockey and longs to make the world a smidgen better by her own hands. She's smart and goofy all rolled into one. I'd be lying outright if I said I'd never heard a cuss word cross her lips; and yet, she still calls me Auntie Susie in this sweet little girl voice that can't help but melt my heart. It's no wonder I still carry a big piece of her toddler self in my mind's eye.

Last Friday night, Carrie called to tell me she's pregnant. The pregnancy was unplanned and was definitely unexpected from a medical standpoint. Carrie has always wanted children even if she wasn't sure she'd be able to have them. Sure, there will be financial issues and housing issues and all the other kinds of difficulties that come from having a child before either partner has permanent (or even steady) employment, but she has a long-term, loving partner and an extended family that is financially and emotionally ready to help them along through the first tough year.

What I'd like to do with your help is pass along some advice to Carrie and her partner. I'm looking for the meaty kind of advice that never gets doled out on Baby Center and iVillage message boards. Our comment compendium will have the added bonus of containing far less beeyotch slapping and absolutely no acronyms. So how about it BTDT Moms? I'll start the ball rolling and we can all continue in the comments section.

Mad's Mad Assvice For the Expectant Mother

1. The ratio of time that most healthy pregnant women spend worrying about labour & delivery vs worrying about having a small human being permanently entrusted to their care is approx. 95% to 5%. Try to reverse this ratio.

2. Avoid the What to Expect Books. Reach for Sheila Kitzinger instead.

3. You can and should draft a birth plan and have your Obstetrician sign it. Remember, though, that it will most likely be ignored completely by the healthcare profession. Drafting it will ensure that you, your partner and your families are all on the same page when it comes to lobbying for your needs. And, maybe, if there is a rare solar eclipse on a blue moon, you'll give birth according to plan. (You have decided on an OB and not a Midwife, right? If the latter, then yay! you have options that weren't available to me and I can offer no advice whatsoever.)

4. For the first few weeks of a child's life, breastfeeding requires that at least two adults be present for every feed. All three parties involved will cry. It's better to know this and prepare for this than to be taken out at the knees by it.

5. There will be one issue (at least) that will break your spirit (at least). Practice self-acceptance and self-forgiveness well in advance. I cannot say this one loud enough. It's ok. It's not your fault. You are doing a fine job. If you need help, ask for it. If help is offered, accept it.

6. Find a mother's group or two, corporeal and/or virtual. Spend a couple of hours a week together for that first year because no one else in your life will remember the ready answers to questions like "how do I treat cradle cap?" or "What is Ovol?" or, hell, I don't even remember any of the 1,000 little questions that I knew were vitally important way back when.

7. Nothing will prepare you for the love you will feel for your child. You may not, however, feel this love on the first day or even in the first week your child is born. Do not beat yourself up about it because it is not uncommon for mothers to take a little while to grasp all that has happened to them. The love will come and it will be bigger than anything you have ever experienced.

8. Matt, when your babe is a month old, please read this. Ron, you do the same.

9. Carrie, watch closely when your Mom and your Aunts hold your babe. They have mad skillz. I can't tell you how much Nan changed my life in those first few weeks. I sometimes still do the bob and weave just for nostalgia's sake.

10. As much as possible, don't listen to the fear mongering pre- and post-natal. It will just make you feel small, and it will leave you no better prepared to deal with anything that may or may not go wrong along the way.

So, wise readers, what say you?

Christmas: the oral tradition

2008-12-16T14:05:00.002-04:00

Hey. How's it going? Awkward silence. Um, I really do intend to finish my children's book series. Really. I do. No, really. This is not simply a case of ambitiousseriesitis that I've come down with. Although there is a wee bit of that, now that I think about it.

I don't know if any of the rest of you have noticed, but December is a rather busy month. It hit me like a bolt from the blue, I swear. So what with gingerbread houses, chocolate truffles, sugar cookies, hosting brunches, trying to knit a gift sweater and having a hacking, horking kid on my hands, I've been a tad sidelined on the blogging front. In an effort to appease your book-loving hearts, I offer up a list of 10 (or so) great Christmas books for kids. Please feel free to embelish in the comments. I know that we could go on for days building the perfect list.

Mouse's First Christmas by Lauren Thompson is a sweet introduction to the unique sights and sensations of Christmas. Recommended for 1-3 year olds.

Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present by John Burningham
Santa resorts to every type of locomtion you can imagine in order to get his final present delivered to the top of The Roly Poly mountain. A quite charming read with lots of repetition for the 2-5 year-old set.

Olivia Helps With Christmas by Ian Falconer
Falconer adds GREEN to his red and white upper middle-class world. Olivia, as always, will charm your socks off and the illustrations say everything that the words need only subtely suggest. Once again, a book for the 2-5s in your house.

Pippin the Christmas Pig by Jean Little
A contemporary retake on the Christmas story. While all the other animals in the barn are caught in a game of one-up-manship about whose ancestor was the most important player in Bethlehem, the unassuming Pippin rescues a lost? homeless? woman and her child who are trapped in a blizzard on Christmas Eve. Ages 4-7

The Chirstmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski; illustrated by P.J. Lynch. Like Pippen above, this story is a little heavy-handed with the sentiment but if ever there was a time to dally in sentiment, Christmas is it. A young boy and his widowed mother help a grieving wood carver reclaim his joy by requesting a hand-carved crèche for Christmas. Ages 5-9.

The House of the Wooden Santas and Aunt Olga's Christmas Postcards by Kevin Major
These books by Newfoundland fiction writer John Major have charm in spades. The former comprises 24 short chapters to be read before bed each day in December and features the wood carvings of Imelda George. Combined, the chapters tell the story of Jesse and his single mother who have recently moved to the seaside. The latter, illustrated by Bruce Roberts provides a visual history of Christmas as seen through the eyes of a 95-yr-old great grandmother and as documented through her collection of historical post cards. Both these books are for older children: 6-9.

The Huron Carol by Father Jean de Brébeuf
There are two great picture book editions of this carol, one illustrated in 1990 by Frances Tyrell and one illustrated by Ian Wallace in 2006. This gorgeous, minor-key carol was originally written by a Jesuit missionary in 1641 and depicts the Christmas story as having taken place in a Huron village. When I sang it for Miss M last night, she interuppted me to say "No, mommy. Mary had blond hair. She didn't have dark hair." Oh. My.

Tyrell also has a lovely edition of the Twelve Days of Christmas entitled Woodland Christmas.

If you haven't seen any of the reproductions of Ernest Nister's movable books from the 1890s, find out if your library has one or more. Most of his books were reproduced in the early 1990s and there are several Christmas titles. I have Christmas Surprises and Ernest Nister's Book of Christmas sitting in front of me now. The poetry isn't great, even by Victorian standards, but the movable illustrations are gorgeous and provide a lovely touch of nostalgia. Tasha Tudor's nostalgic Book of Christmas is indebted to Nister.

Like, duh: Clement Moore's The Night Before Christmas. Don't settle for whatever $2 version happens to be circulating in the remaindered bin. There are fine illustrated editions by Arthur Rackham, Bruce Whatley, Anita Lobel, Max Grove, Tomie de Paola, Kim Fernandez, Grandma Moses and Jan Brett to name just a few. Heck, the dusty Golden Book version still charms my retro heart.

Speaking of Jan Brett, she has a few Christmas books. Miss M loved her most recent Gingerbread Friends; you could almost eat the page, so tasty were all the illustrations. I like The Wild Christmas Reindeer. The Night Before Christmas, The Christmas Trolls and Who's That Knocking on Christmas Eve are slightly less spectacular in my opinion. The Mitten, though not specifically a Christmas book is a great seasonal story based on the Ukrainian folk tale. All these books are for 3-7 yr-olds.

And, of course, I can't end the list without mentioning Van Allsburg's The Polar Express and Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas. We can only hope the freakish movie version does not usurp the former. Boris Karloff's TV version has indeed ousted Seuss's original book when it comes to claiming holiday supremacy, but that's just fine with me. Never was there a finer marriage of film and book.

OK, so let the list continue in the comments. Don't forget to tell me why you like the books you recommend or, at the very least, let me know an age range. If I am on top of my game late next November, I'll compile the whole she-bang into one long list to kick off the '09 holiday season.

How to know when a book is superb: pictures edition, part 2

2008-11-17T16:16:00.003-04:00

At long last, a continuation in my children's book series. To recap: this series is divided into five parts consisting of 6 posts.

Part One talked about strategies for using your local library to find quality children's books.
Part Two (A) discussed several design fundamentals that contribute to superb illustration in picture books.
Part Two (B) (this post) will talk about several more design fundamentals that contribute to superb illustration in picture books.
Part Three will explore language and literary techniques used in quality writing for children.
Part Four will provide a genre summary and list recommended titles in each genre.
Part Five will list 100 excellent author/illustrators for children with either links or a brief overview of their works/style.

A repeat of my copyright caveat: I use a lot of pictures in this post most of which are copyright protected. I did not scan any images into my computer nor upload them. I am simply drawing in images from elsewhere on the web. My purpose in doing so is solely to promote the books depicted. I have not used images from books I do not recommend. I also do not derive any income (monetary or goods and services from my writing); as such I am in no way profiting from the intellectual property of others. Having said all of that, I will remove all embedded images except for book covers from this post and replace them with external links in 7 days time. In the interim, should I receive any requests from copyright holders to remove images from this post, I will do so immediately.

And now, to pick up where we left off...

You may recall that I am relying on The On-line Visual Literacy Project at Ponoma College for my terms of reference in defining the 11 basic design components of all visual communication. I have grouped these components into 4 broad categories.
The building blocks (dot, line, shape, and texture) (the subject of my last post in this series)
Movement (motion and direction)
Colour (hue, value, and saturation), and
Perspective (scale and dimension)

The rest of today's post will look at movement, colour, and perspective.

From utter stillness, motion emerges:
Image Link (note: I've added the external links to the images just in case you want to see a larger version of any of them.)

Rob Gonsalves holds stillness and motion in tandem in this surreal illustration featured in Imagine a Night (2003). His paintings have been pulled together in three separate picture books, Imagine a Night, Imagine a Day, and Imagine a Place, all with text provided by Sarah L. Thomson. The text doesn't shine so well as the illustrations but the books are stunning eye candy for all ages.

Picture book artists create motion on a fixed, 2-dimensional plane by using using multiple techniques, and, unlike the Gonsalves illustration would you have you believe, the motion created is, most often, pure silly fun.
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David Shannon's title character from No David! (1998) makes a mad dash from his bath. The oversized sidewalk seems to spit him out, limbs extended and body soaring skyward.

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Barry Moser's rabbit leaps above the title of this book: Jump!: The Adventures of Brer Rabbit by Joel Chandler Harris, Van Dyke Parks, Malcolm Jones (1986). The torn blue backdrop that is slightly akimbo reinforces the motion suggested by the image.

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Moser again on the cover of Margie Palanti's Earthquack! (2002). Even the letters in the title are subject to seismic upheaval.

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Lane Smith's retro, space-age tumble into the abyss on the cover of Scieszka's Math Curse (1995).

And now, a few motion-centric illustrations that bring me joy:

Candace Fleming's Smile Lily, 2004 Image Link

Helen Cooper's continuation of the Pumpkin Soup story, Delicious, 2007.
Me and My Sister, Ruth Ohi, 2005.

Linda Bailey's Stanley's Party illustrated by Bill Slavin, 2003.

One of my favourite object lessons in motion could not be found on the web but I'm sure most of you will be able to picture the image immediately if I simply type the words, "LET ME DRIVE THE BUS!!!!!!"

While motion suggests movement on the page, direction prompts the movement of your eye over the page.

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In this illustration from Barbara Reid's Sing a Song of Mother Goose (1987), Jack and Jill are pure motion; their tumble down the hill, though, directs the reader's eye straight to the page turn, for one does not linger in the verbally tripping land of the nursery rhyme.

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Harold's policeman also points to the page turn with his arm and his eyes. (Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson, 1955) In the illustration from No David! above, the sidewalk forces our eyes to follow David's streak to freedom.

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Peggy Rathmann's heroic quest, The Day the Babies Crawled Away (2003), features a driving, rhyming cadence that is accompanied by illustrations that move the reader's eye from top corner left to bottom corner right. As such, the story tumbles along until the pattern stops abruptly when our hero and his infant charges get trapped at the bottom of a cliff. At this point in the story, the black frame of the page surrounds them on three sides, effectively holding them captive. Sadly, I could not find an image online to show the trapped scene, but I think you can imagine what I mean.

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Anthony Browne's Willy is a nose-in-the book sort of fellow. No so, his friend Hugh, who attracts the annoyed stares of the other library patrons. The entire meaning of this illustration from Willy and Hugh (1991) is told by following the direction of the eyes. You may need to follow the image link to get the full effect of this one.

And finally, here's one more marriage of motion (the font, the girl with arms uplifted) and direction (the buildings) acting in harmony. Robert Neubecker's Wow! City! (2004)

Colour has become a dominant design principle in illustrated books for children over the last several decades. Classics, such as Johnson's Harold books and McCloskey's Make Way For Ducklings or Blueberries for Sal, however, are evidence that illustration can be divine on a monochromatic scale.

From Blueberries for Sal (1948) Image Link

Other books, such as Richard McGuire's Orange Book (1992), which uses only the complementary colours of orange and blue, or Cathy Stinson's Red is Best (1982), which emphasizes the narrator's preferred colour, or the wordless picture book Yellow Umbrella (2001) by Jae Soo Liu deal in the essence of hue.

Hue is plucked straight from the colour wheel and comes in the infinite combinations of those three primary colours: red, blue and yellow.

Bob Staake's The Red Lemon (2006)

from Fish Eyes: A Book You Can Count On by Lois Ehlert (1990) Image Link

A picture can comprise mainly warm hues:

a cross-section of the old white cabin in Delicious by Helen Cooper (2007) Image Link

Or cool hues:

From Rob Gonsalves' Imagine a Place (2008) Image Link

Sometimes the lifeblood of the image is a pocket of warm colour lying in a sea or sky of cool:

Marie-Louise Gay's Stella: Star of the Sea (English language version) (1999)

Christopher Myers' Wings (2000)

Value refers to the amount of light or dark in an image and the interplay between them.

From Peggy Rathmann's The Day the Babies Crawled Away (2003) Image Link

From Creation by Gerald McDermott (2003) Image Link

Whereas Beatrix Potter uses value to show the warmth of the hearth in winter,

Chris Van Allsburg plays with value to eerie effect in The Mysteries of Harris Burdick (1984), a suggestive, imaginative picture book for elementary aged children.

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Ed Young's mice sparkle against their black backdrop in Seven Blind Mice (1992), and

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Ted Harrison's depiction of the Aurora Borealis feels like stained glass, so filled with light are his colours. From O Canada (1992).

Saturation deals with the amount of grey that influences a colour.
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In Janell Canon's Stellaluna (1993), the contrast of the bats who lack colour saturation with the highly saturated night sky provide maximum visual impact. The resulting ultra-realism emphasizes the vulnerability of the bats, creatures that the reader may not normally sympathize with.

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In Knuffle Bunny (2004), Mo Willems splashes highlights of mid-saturated colours over top of black and white photo stills of a Brooklyn neighborhood to add a family atmosphere to the city backdrop. His illustrations often look like animation stills.

The use of water colours produces a canvas of lightly saturated colours.

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In many books, and Barbara McClintock's Dahlia (2002) is a fine example here, such illustrations have a rural or old-fashioned feel to them, no doubt because they hearken back to the 19th and early 20th styles of early masters in the genre:

Randolph Caldecott Image Link

Kate Greenaway Image Link

Leslie Brooke Image Link

and Beatrix Potter Image Link

And then there is Norton Juster's Hello, Goodbye Window, illustrated by Chris Raschka, that conjures up a rustic nostalgia by using mid-saturated, high value colours.
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If you want to see what Rashka has to say about his approach to illustrating this book, read the engaging caption he put on one of his pictures that was reproduced for the New York Times.

Raschka uses a similar style for a cover of the Horn Book Magazine. Deelish.

Highly saturated colours often, but not always, suggest an urban or contemporary setting, partly because contemporary printing technology allows for the mass reproduction of rich colours.

Here is Raschka again with Yo! Yes? (1993)

Vera B. Williams' A Chair for My Mother (1982). Image Link

Then there's the tropical feel of Dayal Kaur Khalsa' My Family Vacation (1988):

Highly saturated colours also feature prominently in many folk tales. Different colour combinations can be suggestive of different cultures or ethnicities:

Leo and Diane Dillon's Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears: A West African Tale (1975)

Ricardo Keens-Douglas' The Nutmeg Princess; illustrated by Annouchka Galouchko (1992) (a folk tale from Grenada)

Gerald McDermott's Raven: A Trickster Tale From the Pacific Northwest (1993).

Phew. Colour dang near killed me. I hope you're still with me. We're coming down the home stretch.

Last but not least, we come to perspective and the two visual techniques that help to determine it: dimension and scale.

Dimension refers to the level at which a reader's eye encounters an image. Are we viewing the scene from on high? Are we looking up from the ground? Or are we meeting the image at eye level?
Molly Bang's When Sophie Gets Angry--Really, Really Angry (1999), shows the child reader what a temper tantrum looks like from a child's eye view.

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When Sophie explodes, the dimension is eye level. When Sophie runs away and feels very small, the reader sees her as a speck on the landscape. By carefully manipulating dimension, the artist aligns the reader's sympathies with her character. Throughout the book we identify with Sophie and can therefore better empathize with her situation.

Now you tell me, in this illustration from David Wiesner's Tuesday (1991) are we meant to identify with the people who inhabit the town or the town's mysterious night time visitors?

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Scale is similar to dimension but it is intrinsic to the picture itself rather than relying on the reader as viewer. Scale can simply let us know the size of one object relative to another as is the case in this picture from Wiesner's June 29, 1999:
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And scale can sometimes make you smile:

From David Shannon's Duck on a Bike (2002) Image Link

Alternatively, scale can convey the emotional crux of a situation. Take for example the day Willy the Wimp accidentally bumps into Hugh:

From Anthony Browne's Willy and Hugh (1991)Image Link

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In regaling you with examples of how the 11 design principles work in picture books, it was my hope that you would see how smart illustrations, when combined with visual literacy skills on the part of the reader, can contribute to the overall experience of reading a book. Do I kid myself that my daughter sees all this when she is looking at books?

No. Not for a second. But she does see a lot of things in illustrations that I don't catch right off. We also spend a lot of time talking about the pictures in her books in an effort to tease out both our ways of seeing. Books that are flatly illustrated don't allow us to open up the conversation. They don't influence our mood or emotions as we are reading. The really good books do, though, and each time I come back to those books to figure out why, the answer is usually right there in front of me in their finely crafted illustrations.

________________________________

OK, you all need a break from this so I won't post again in this series for at least a week if not longer. Truth be told, I need a bit of a break too. This was some hard work finding all those pictures and then making them fit my big picture. Next up, I'll be savouring the flavour of words. Mmmmmm, tasty words.

How to know when a book is superb: pictures edition, part 1

2008-11-04T14:00:00.009-04:00

This post is the second in a series about identifying and selecting quality children's books for the preschool set. Part 1 is here. Parts 2b, 3, 4, and 5 will follow in the next couple of weeks ... or longer. These posts are likely going to be long-winded so I want to give my readers lots of time off in-between.

Copyright caveat: I use a lot of pictures in this post most of which are copyright protected. I did not scan any images into my computer nor upload them. I am simply drawing in images from elsewhere on the web. My purpose in doing so is solely to promote the books depicted. I have not used images from books I do not recommend. I also do not derive any income (monetary or goods and services from my writing); as such I am in no way profiting from the intellectual property of others. Having said all of that, I will remove all embedded images except for book covers from this post and replace them with external links in 7 days time. In the interim, should I receive any requests from copyright holders to remove images from this post, I will do so immediately.

On with the show...

What is the role of pictures in books for young children? Is it simply to illustrate the text? Having spent so many years as readers, we adults tend to privilege text at the expense of illustration. Library users are always asking me for a good story, a funny story, for a tale about trucks, ballerinas, or animals, for a book that teaches manners or what have you, for a book that will help a child learn to read, or one that fosters a desired "learning outcome" (now there's an expression that makes me want to puke). I only rarely have users come to me looking for a certain style of art or expressing a desire to teach visual literacy.

I remember reading simple vocabulary books to Miss M in that year where language hit her like a tidal wave. Words. Words. Words. Words were what she needed and words were what I gave her. Invariably, I found my word-centred self pointing to the black squiggle of text as I was reading and not to the picture she was looking at. Young children see the world differently, though. They acquire visual literacy long before they can decipher those black marks on the page. Good children's writers and illustrators know this. Good children's writers and illustrators design their books to cater to a child's need for aural, verbal, visual and, eventually, written literacy.

The most common form of book for young children is the picture book: 32 pages that most often contain text and pictures, although the former can be absent. In a good picture book, the text and art complement each other. I use the word "complement" on purpose, as it comes from the root "complete." In a good picture book neither the text nor art is complete without the other. Oftentimes the story can stand alone in a less rich form, but many innovative picture books depend on their illustrations to tell part or all of the story.

Take for example, Pat Hutchin's Rosie's Walk published in 1967. It is usually acknowledged as the first picture book in which the words deliberately leave out part of the story. The words tell in brief, literal detail what happens when Rosie, the hen, goes for a walk around the barnyard. Only the illustrations show what happens to the ill-fated fox who chooses to follow her. Page after page, the fox gets his comeuppance and Rosie? Well, she gets "back in time for dinner". End of story.

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This style of integrated storytelling is quite prevalent in contemporary picture books. One of my favourite renderings of it is the Caldecott medal-winning Officer Buckle and Gloria by Peggy Rathmann.

I wish I could find pictures online to show you Gloria the police dog's outlandish enactments of Officer Buckle's safety tips. Better yet, I wish I could show you the climax illustration when Officer Buckle realizes he's been had by his best friend. You'll have to go check it out to see for yourself if you haven't read it already.

How does the 10 dollar expression "visual literacy" differ from the 10 cent version "looking at pictures"? A lot can be said for how pictures themselves invite the reader in and promote an interpretive framework. A few basic design principles provide the foundation for all visual communication. How these principles are employed by the artist acting in tandem with the writer determine the degree of engagement a reader can have with a picture book. To explain, I am relying on the The On-line Visual Literacy Project at Ponoma College. The article, which outlines the 11 fundamental components of design, is well-researched and well-cited. I highly recommend it, should you wish to pursue these issues further (and, perhaps, catch all my errors in interpretation). I plan to tackle the basic design components here by dividing them into four groupings and looking at those groupings through the lens of picture book illustration. They are:

The building blocks (dot, line, shape, and texture)
Movement (motion and direction)
Colour (hue, value, and saturation), and
Perspective (scale and dimension)

The rest of today's post will look at the building blocks. My next post will cover movement, colour and perspective.

The Building Blocks
The dot and the line are fundamental to all artistic creation. The dot is a stable, grounding force: a moon in the sky or an object in the distance that your eye is drawn to. Lines create while dots merely are. The exception to this rule is in contemporary visual technology whereby all images are expressed through a series of dots. The genius of Roy Lichtenstein was to turn our way of looking at a screen or a comic book back on us and to make us aware of the visual make-up of new technology as a series of dots.

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The line creates all movement, direction, and perspective. The line, when used cleverly, is an object lesson in how art works.

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Straight lines, particularly diagonals suggest activity. Curved lines sooth and rock with a gentle motion.

From lines, shape emerges. The comforting, rolling circle is a big ol' dot that depends upon line for its movement.

Richard McGuire's Orange Book, 1993

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Kevin Henkes' Caldecott-winning Kitten's First Full Moon, 2004. Notice the grounding circles in the moon, in the fireflies and in the kitten herself. Then notice how the angled line of the tail directs your eye to the moon so that we look at they very thing that has caught the kitten's attention.

The claustrophobic square and rectangle...

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...with their promise of escape.

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Is it any wonder that Sendak's masterpiece, Where the Wild Things Are, begins in Max's house bounded by a white, square frame on the page. With each page, the frame gets smaller and smaller until Max sails off to the land of the wild things. At this point, the frame disappears altogether and the image becomes a full-page bleed. In fact, the wild things themselves would burst the bounds of the book if they could.

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The manic triangle is all lines and angles scarcely bound. It keeps your eyes always moving.

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Triangles, because they contain at least two diagonal lines, represent energy and movement, particularly when they are sitting on their angles instead of their base.

An aside:
If your child has moved past the random scribble in fine motor skill development (mine has not), check out the books of Ed Emberly. Alternatively, go to his website where you will find countless drawing exercises that let kids turn the dot, the line, and the fundamental shapes into just about any object under the sun. Voila:

Child readers discover texture early on: pat the bunny, pop-up, and crinkle-paper books abound in our tactile, catered-to-baby culture. An image does not need faux fur or sandpaper to convey texture, though, and different illustration techniques can often make a one-dimensional image seem 3D.

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Canadian Barbara Reid models her illustrations out of clay before they are transferred to paper for printing. This illustration is from Effie, 1999. The computer screen does not do justice to the level of detail in her art. Take, for example, this image from her version of Noah's ark entitled Two By Two, 1992.
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If you haven't read a book with Barbara Reid illustrations, hurry out and do so immediately. As an aside, there is a wonderful detail in this illustration: Noah's wife (dressed in green on the middle deck) has just realized that she's stepped in dung and is looking at the bottom of her shoe in disgust.

Wallace Edwards supplements detail with competing colours and patterns to create a textured look. from Wallace Edwards' Alphabeasts, 2002.

Eric Carle creates texture by using multi-coloured tissue paper in his art. It's always fun to read a bunch of Carle books and then have your kids create tissue paper art. You can give them colouring page image outlines, if you want, and then let them do the rest.

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Barry Moser, Chris VanAllsburg, and Christopher Bing have all used woodcuts or pen-and-ink in the style of woodcuts to create texture.

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OK, out of 11 design fundamentals, I have now covered 4 and the post is waaaay long. Stay tuned for part b in a few days. In the meantime, ask yourself as you read stories to your kids, "does this picture add something of value to the book? Does it create mood, set tone, establish character? Is the image energetic or peaceful? Does it extend the mind in interesting ways beyond what is conveyed by the words on the page? How does it accomplish its task?"

Now here's a question for all of you: What picture book or illustrator's style do you like in particular and why? Don't be shy to answer. I love nothing more than learning about what makes children's books work. All other comments or discussion points are welcome as well.

Mad's whacky blog of books. It's all books, all the time!

2008-10-28T22:45:00.006-03:00

Moma left this comment on a recent post:

One thing I was wondering about was how to evaluate kid's books and was hoping you might write a post on that. For example, my daughter loves the Arthur and Franklin series. Would these be considered good reading? What should I be looking for in a book for a preschooler? It was easier to pick out books when they only had a few words on the page.

I always find it hard to blog about this kind of thing because we all have to stumble our way through libraries and bookstores as parents and we all develop tips and tricks in the process. I never like to presume that I have better ways of doing things than the next parent. Having said that, selecting children's books is what I do for a living and I do think I have developed professional savvy over the years. I regularly give library instruction sessions to education students who will need to select and evaluate books for children in their careers. About a week ago, I gave a workshop on picture book literacy for a large group of day care and preschool teachers. So, for those who might be interested, here is my 2 ~~cents~~ dollars worth.

I will make my answer a series of posts that will come out over the next couple of weeks or so with the odd interruption for Hallowe'en post-mortems and other daily life occurrences that demand bloggy treatment. The series will run as follows:

Part 1 (today's post): Tips for finding good books and making the most of your local library.
Part 2: How to know when a book is superb: pictures edition
Part 3: How to know when a book is superb: words edition
Part 4: Genre summary with a few title recommendations
Part 5: A list of 100 excellent author and/or illustrators for the pre-school set

Part 1: Tips for finding good books and making the most of your local library

1. Ask your children's librarian for recommendations: A good children's librarian is yours and your child's best friend. She/he will be able to recommend books that are pitched to your child's interests and abilities. She/he will know other books that are like titles your child already loves. She/he will know if a new dinosaur book has just come in or if the latest Stella and Sam book is about to be published. If Christmas is coming, ask him/her about what books to buy vs borrow for your child or other children. Ask her what tools and resources are available at the library to help you self-select materials. Shop around for a librarian or library staff person that you mesh with. Just because you had a bad experience with one person at the help desk doesn't mean that another person in the organization won't be more up your alley.

I know that this recommendation doesn't particularly help people who rely on small or rural libraries as much as it does to people in larger centres but, hey, that's why I have several recommendations on this list.

2. Use your library catalogue: Find out how to use your library catalogue well and then use it often. In my library, I can limit search results to just children's books (and sometimes depending on the search I can limit to just the picture books in the collection). Setting such limits makes it easy to perform targeted searches on subjects my daughter is currently interested in: elephants, dinosaurs, farms and the like. Library catalogues may also allow you to limit your searches by date of publication or language as well. For example, I get countless language students coming to me looking for French children's books to help them as they learn the language.

3. Read reviews: Does your local paper write reviews of children's books? If so, read them and then ask for recommended titles at your library. Does your library subscribe to a reviewing service like the Children's Literature Comprehensive Database (CLCD)? If so, you can quickly and easily look up reviews of books that you might be considering for your child to find out if a) they are recommended and b) if they would be appropriate for your particular child. If your library does subscribe to the CLCD, you can generate subject specific book lists that are pitched to a particular age range or reading level.

4. Devour award winners: Read your way through the extensive lists of award winners and honour books that are now posted all over the internet. If you find a book you especially like, then find every other book that author wrote. Keep in mind that award books can span age ranges so make sure you've got an age-appropriate book in your hands before you start reading aloud at bed time. Here are some lists of award winners to get you started but there are plenty more out there:

US-based awards
The Caldecott Medal: Awarded to the best picture book by an American citizen or resident published in the US in any given year. The current winner and honour books are listed here. A complete listing of past winners is here.

The Newbery Medal: The oldest, ongoing prize for children's literature in the world, the Newbery medal is awarded to the most distinguished work for children published in the US in any given year. The current winner and honour books are here. Past winners are listed her e.

The Michael L. Printz Award: An annual award that recognizes literary excellence in young adult literature. The current winner and honour book are listed here. The full listing of past winners and honour books is here.

The Coretta Scott King Book Award: This annual award is given to African-American writers and illustrators of books for children. The current winner is listed here (and is sitting by my bedside) along with the 2008 honour books. A full listing of winners and honour books can be found here.

The Boston-Globe Horn Book Prize is presented annually in three categories for prestigious picture book, fiction and poetry, and nonfiction published in the United States. Here's the current winners and the full listing of award winners.

The New York Times Best Illustrated Books for Children is an annual listing. Here is a slideshow for the 2007 edition of the awards.

Canadian Awards
The Governor General's Literary Awards: Awarded annually, one for children's text and one for children's illustration with categories in both English and French. Here's the 2008 shortlist. Here is the list of past winners.

The Amelia Frances Howard-Gibbon Award: Awarded to the outstanding illustrator of a children's book published in Canada. The complete list of winners is here.

The Canadian Children's Book Centre maintains a listing of Canadian book awards. Rather than reprinting it all here, you can find the full list on their website.

British Awards
The Kate Greenaway Medal: Awarded annually for children's illustration. It's the UK's equivalent to the Caldecott Medal. Current short list is here. Past winners are here.

The Carnegie Medal: Awarded annually to the writer of an outstanding book for children. It's the British equivalent of the Newbery Medal. Current short list is here. Past winners are here.

Smarties Prize (renamed Nestle Book Prize): A recently discontinued UK prize for various age categories of children's literature. The Smarites Prize was sometimes considered controversial because of its affiliation with Nestle and their practice of promoting infant formula use in developing countries. 2007 winners are on the main page. Past winners are listed here.

International Distinction
The IBBY Honor List: a bienneal listing of excellent books for children put out by the International Board on Books for Young People.

5. Seek out lists, blogs and children's book web sites: In this bloggy age, a lot of informed people are posting book lists, reviews and recommendations. I keep lists of all the books Miss M has read over on my sidebar there. Librarian-mother-blogger extraordinaire, Kittenpie, has a couple of review sites: one for younger kids and one for older ones. That second link also has links to some other children's review sites. Mo-Wo and P-Man also recommend books every now and then. Just One More Book features daily podcasts on children's books. The list goes on and on, but my hope is not to overwhelm you in this post.

6. Make sure you cover off as many genres as you can. There are so many kids today who never hear poetry or who don't receive grounding in oral folk-tale culture. That grieves me. In Dewey classification systems, the picture books and easy readers are catalogued separately from poetry, folklore, non-fiction, music, biography and the like. You have to go hunting to move beyond picture books. More on this in part 4 of the series.

7. Give your child free range in the library and work by trial and error. A child needs to know that he/she has some agency when it comes to selecting books. I have read some real howlers to Miss M but I respected the fact that she chose the books. This is where all those dreadful movie spin-off books come into play. There's also a number of didactic or messagey books out there that I flat-out disagree with, but I suck it up and read them anyway if my daughter has taken a fancy to them. I try to not pass judgment while I'm reading a book but I will often discuss my likes and dislikes after the fact. Take, for example, The Rainbow Fish. I personally don't like how preachy that book is. I don't like the message that in order to be liked you must give up all of what it is that makes you unique. I do, however, like fostering notions of sharing and consideration for others and so Miss M and I have talked about what I did and didn't like about the book. She's a fan but I think her love of the book has more to do with the brightly coloured illustrations than the book's message.

OK, so that's part 1. I really haven't answered your question at all, though, have I? The Franklin and Arthur series are perfectly fine books. They're not standouts in my opinion but they are also not dross. Miss M and I have read all that we can get our hands on. Clifford and Little Critter books too. I like the early Franklin books the best of this entire bunch because the illustrations in them are more naturalistic than the more cartoonish later versions of the series. The realistic pictures of the animals sets those early Franklin books apart, in my opinion. And look at that, I've used the expression "in my opinion" twice in this last paragraph. Literary preference is always one part quality and one part opinion.

I welcome all comments, additions, links, discussion issues, what have yous. Part two will come your way likely early next week.

Because a couple of you asked...

2008-08-07T14:50:00.001-03:00

Instead of sitting around trying to come up with ASSinine punny names for future books in the Twilight Series--Breaking Wind, Full Moon, The Butt Crack of Dawn--I thought I'd give you a few titles for teen girls ... and middle-aged librarians who have never made the emotional leap beyond 17.

Books for older teens (i.e. they feature sex, sexual assault, pregnancy or drugs or they're simply sophisticated from a narrative standpoint)

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith: let's start with first principles, here, folks. Published in 1948, this book pretty much invented the YA genre. It's still crackles with sexual energy and naive despair after all these years. The 2003 film version wasn't bad either, IMHO.

Before Wings by Beth Goobie: A 15-yr-old girl who has an aneurysm in her heart goes to summer camp where she engages with spirits who haunt the lake at night. Goobie is one of the most insightful and lyrical YA writers out there. She should be giving writing lessons to every aspiring novelist. It's too bad she's a bit of a recluse who doesn't do workshops because, oh my, her skills are so needed right now.

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson: Melinda is raped at a party during the summer before high school and spends her freshman year as a social outcast. What might otherwise be yet-another-problem-novel is made rich by the depth of Melinda's character and the cutting authenticity of the high school environment.

Seven for a Secret by Mary C. Sheppard: Set in a Newfoundland out-port in 1960, this book tells the stories of three teen cousins as they unearth the secrets of their pasts and face the sometimes harsh realities of their futures. The narrative voice of 15-yr-old Melinda is spot on with the warmth of the Newfoundland dialect.

The Corner Garden by Lesley Krueger. I reviewed this novel a few years back and loved it. Toronto author, Krueger, stitches together the life of a troubled teen with that of her aged neighbour who has not yet come to terms with her own teen regrets as a Nazi sympathizer in 1940s Holland. And, no, this is NOT yet another WWII/Holocaust novel for children. I too will admit that that particular genre has been done to death. It is, however, more of a YA/Adult cross-over.

Feed by M.T. Andersen: A YA dystopia that actually has the courage to be a dystopia rather than carrying a saccharine message of hope. The characters in the novel receive everything they need through the feed that is implanted in their brains. They can order and buy any kind of experience they want. The only problem is the "they" gets lost in the "want."

Sights by Susanna Vance: How's this for a first sentence: "I was in the womb eleven and one half months, came out fat, durable and gorgeous." Baby Girl was born with the Sight but it doesn't let her see her own future. She and her Momma have fled her dad and now she's starting high school all sore-thumbish in a new town. Reading this book is all tickly, like drinking icy ginger ale on a hot day.

Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCafferty: Jessica spends a year missing her best friend Hope. No, it's not quite an allegory. It is, however, a smart, sassy look at high school written by a writer for Cosmo Girl. It also includes an irrational attraction to a bad boy, but this one is sorta kinda ok in the end and, most importantly, DOESN'T WANT TO EAT ANYBODY OR READ THEIR THOUGHTS. Some may lump Sloppy Firsts with other teen fluff like L.B.D: It's a Girl Thing or Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging but I found it to be a cut above. So did ole Whatzernamenow, the Harvard freshman who infamously plagiairized it a couple of years ago. Second Helpings, the sequel isn't so bad either.

True Confessions of a Heartless Girl by Martha Brooks: This from the epigraph attributed to John Gardner: "There are really only two plot lines: a stranger rides into town and a stranger rides out of town." In the book, a community nurtures a pregnant teen who lands in their midst. Sometimes the setting feels like a throw back to, uh, I dunno, a combination of Leacock's Mariposa and a the estrogen-laden bear hug novels of Carol Shields. In the end, it proves twice over that it takes a village to raise a child ... and that it takes a child to bind a village unto itself.

Books for your 11 and 12 year old girls who are reading Twilight despite your admonishments
Before Wings by Beth Goobie: See above. I love this book so much I accidentally gave it to my niece two Christmases in a row.

Everything on a Waffle, The Canning Season or just about anything written by Polly Horvath: Do you know the novels of Horvath? She's crackles with dark humour and creates some of the most memorable supporting characters out there.

The Emily Series by L.M. Montgomery (like duh)

Surviving the Applewhites by Stephanie Tolan: A pro-(quirky) family, pro-creativity, pro-happiness book for emerging teens. Imagine. It's also great, whacky reading for the home-schoolers out there.

Howl's Moving Castle or Witch Week or just about anything by Diana Wynne Jones. Diana Wynne Jones is round about one of the best fantasy writers for children ever but let's not get into that now, shall we? We could alway save fantasy and sci-fi for another list, another day.

Stravaganza: City of Masks by Mary Hoffman. OK, so I have a thing for fantasy when it comes to my late, middle readers. I put this one on the list because of the love interest in it--you know, in order to appeal to the Twilight readers.

You could also check out Kittenpie's book review site for older readers here. For those who don't know her, KP is my mommyblogging librarian doppelganger in Toronto. She also has the distinct advantage of reading far more widely that I do because, I suspect, she is just plain better at her job.

Do any of you have any suggestions, recommendations for me in the teen girl genre? I've had Jennifer Donnelly's A Northern Light and Sheree Fitch's The Gravesavers by my bed for about six months now but other books keep jumping the queue.

Miss M's been reading again...

2008-07-17T00:33:00.004-03:00

The lazy, hazy days are here and my mom is getting really s-l-o-w with this blogging gig. It might have to do with the amount of time we spend splashing around the wading pool with my new elephant floatie. Wheeee!!!!! Or maybe SYTYCD is getting in the way. We watch it together on Saturday afternoons so that I can try out all the moves. You should see my salsa lift. It's a wonder to behold. I've also perfected break dancing and hippity hop dancing. Mom tried to tell me they were the same thing but I don't believe her. And then there's Battlestar Gallactica on DVD that Mom sometimes mutters dreamily about in her sleep. Can anyone tell me what "pull Apollo's towel" means?

Just so you know, my Mom does all her writing and reading on a desktop computer, far from the TV domestic hub, in the hottest room in the house. Summer takes its toll. What I think Mom really needs is a bloggy vacation for a week or two so that she can cool off. I thought I'd help by taking over today's post to give her that gentle push out the door. Don't be surprised if she isn't around much for the next little while.

As you all know, I'm going to be 3 and a half in just over a week. That means it's high time I told you just what I've been reading since my 3rd birthday. You should check these books out at your local library 'cause libraries are simply the best. Just so you know, I came to that conclusion by myself; I didn't need old smarty pants mommy-librarian telling me what to think. Oh and just in case your kids aren't 3 and 1/2 like me, Mom keeps all my lists up on the side-bar over there. Besides, who really reads to assigned age levels anyway? I love everything from baby books to classic Pooh, thank you very much. As long as you're under 6, there's bound to be something on this list you'll like.

Because I've read over a hundred books since January, I've put my absolute favourites in bold so you'll know what to look for first. Here you go. Have a happy summer. Make sure you don't take library books into the wading pool, ok? Mom says that's bad.

Alexander, Sue. World Famous Muriel and the Scary Dragon (thanks, Kittenpie!)
Bachelet, Gilles. My cat, the silliest cat in the world
Baxter, Nicola. The Rainbow Fairies
Bemelmans, Ludwig. Madeline and the Bad hat
Madeline in London
Bottner, Barbara. Bootsie Barker Bites
Bourgeois, Paulette. Franklin Wants a Pet
Franklin's secret club
Franklin has a sleepover
Franklin's school play
Bridwell, Norman. Clifford and the Big Storm
Clifford's Birthday Party
Clifford's Happy Days: a pop-up book
Clifford Takes a Trip
Clifford's Tricks
Briggs, Raymond. The Snowman(we had a shortened version of it for little kids like me)
Brown, Margaret Wise. The summer noisy book
de Brunhoff, Laurent. Babar the King
Babar's Travels
Child, Lauren. But Excuse Me That is My Book
I am not Sleepy and I will not go to Bed
I will never, not ever Eat a Tomato
Snow is My Favorite and My Best
Chodos-Irvine, Margaret. Best, Best Friends
Clark, Emma Chichester. I Love You, Blue Kangaroo
What Shall We Do, Blue Kangaroo?
Cooper, Helen. The Bear Under the Stairs
Cronin, Doreen. Dooby, Dooby Moo
Diouf, Sylviane. Bintou's Braids
Donaldson, Julia. Charlie Cook's Favourite Book
The Gruffalo
The Gruffalo's Child
Fitch, Sheree. Sleeping Dragons All Around
Freeman, Don. Dandelion
Fujikawa, Gyo. Jenny and Jupie
Gay, Marie-Louise. Caramba
Rabbit Blue
What Are You Doing Sam?
Gilman, Phoebe. The Gypsy Princess
Gonsalves, Rob. Imagine a Day
Guarini, Deborah. Is Your Mama a Llama?
Hoff, Syd. Danny and the Dinosaur
Danny and the Dinosaur Go to Camp
Hoberman. You Read to Me; I'll Read to you
Hutchins, Pat. Rosie's Walk
Jenkins, Steve and Robin Page. What Do You Do With a Tail Like This?
Johnson, Gillian. My Sister Gracie
Keats, Ezra Jack. The Snowy Day
Regards to the Man in the Moon
Kuskin, Karla. So, What's it Like to be a Cat?
LeBlanc Cate, Annette. The Magic Rabbit
Levert, Mireille. An Island in the Soup
Lobel, Arnold. Frog and Toad are Friends
Days with Frog and Toad
Frog and Toad All Year
Frog and Toad Together
Owl at Home
Lunn, Janet. Amos' Sweater
Marshall, Edward. Space Case
Milne. A. A. Christopher Robin Leads and Expotition
Eeyore has a Birthday
Kanga and Roo Come to the Forest
Pooh Goes Visiting
Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting (we have a set with these stories all as separate books but you can find them all and more together in Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner)
Morris, Carla. The Boy Who Was Raised By Librarians
Munsch, Robert. Johnathan Cleaned Up (The Blackberry Subway Jam)
The Paper Bag Princess
Muth, Jon J. Zen Shorts
Novak, Matt. Mouse TV
Numeroff, Laura Joffe. If You Give a Moose a Muffin
If You Take a Mouse to School
Pfister, Marcus. Hopper Hunts for Spring
Potter, Beatrix. The Tale of Benjamin Bunny
The Tale of Peter Rabbit (Mom tells me there's lots more of these books. I can hardly wait.)
Rathmann, Peggy. Officer Buckle and Gloria
Reid, Barbara. The Golden Goose
Scarry, Richard. Learn to Count
Please and thank you book
Richard Scarry's funniest storybook ever
Richard Scarry's what do people do all day
Rohmann, Eric. Time Flies
Simmons, Jane. Come Along, Daisy!
Sis, Peter. Going Up
Waving
Stewart, Sarah. The Library
Thayer, Ernest. Casey at the Bat. Illus. by Patricia Polacco (Mom says that the grown ups might really like this version illustrated by Christopher Bing or this more recent one illustrated by Joe Morse.)
Urbanovic, Jackie. Duck at the Door
Wadell, Martin. Let's Go Home, Little Bear
Squeak-a-lot
Wiesner, David. June 29, 1999
Sector 7
Tuesday
Wells, Rosemary. McDuff Comes Home (Do NOT read Shy Charles or Felix the Worrier. They made me feel bad.)
Willems, Mo. Edwina the Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct
Knuffle Bunny Too: A Case of Mistaken Identity
Wynne-Jones, Tim. The Last Piece of Sky
Zoom Away
Zoom At Sea
Zoom Upstream
Yolen, Jane. How Do Dinosaurs Eat Their Food?
Moon Ball
Zacks, Irene. Space Alphabet

I like non-fiction too! Here are some of my favourite call #'s:
567 Dinosours. I was sooooo into dinosaurs this spring. When I grow up I want to be a Tyrannosaurs... and a teacher and a dancer and an actor and a mommy. I liked this book a lot. It wasn't too grown up:
Petty, Kate. I didn't know Dinosaurs Laid Eggs
520s: Outer space
597: fish and frogs and turtle and sharks. Oh my!
599: Elephants. Ah, sweet, sweet elephants.
Mom just brought home a bunch of science books for kids my age. I will report back on my next list.

Chirp Magazine: I now have my own subscription and I LOVE IT!

I also watch bits and pieces of these cool DVDs with mom: Planet Earth (disc one has a fantastic elephant sequence but beware of all the food chain stuff that goes on just after it. Sometimes, it's hard being an impressionable, 3-yr-old vegetarian) and Blue Planet (hammerhead sharks are sooooo fun).

One last thing: if you find my lists useful, please tell other people about them or link to them because Mom spends a lot of time typing them out for me and she'd like to make sure that all the typing is worth her while. And now, I am going to make her back away from the keyboard so that she can rinse out our bathing suits for tomorrow.

Sticks and stones

2008-06-19T00:23:00.000-03:00

The American Film Institute hogged another 3 hours of network television time last night to countdown a bunch more self-important films in a self-important industry dominated by a self-important country. Last night's obsession was 10 genre-based Top 10 lists of really, really great movies. Rah, rah America, mom, 'n apple pie. Now, once and for all, we know what the top Sci-Fi movie of all time is. How did we ever live without the knowing? No doubt like apes dancing around an obelisk. Oooooo, and who would've doubted Raging Bull as the number 1 contenda for best sports movie evah? My poor Bull Durham-y heart.

Gack, I shouldn't be so cynical about these lists. I love movies: those from America and those from beyond. I don't even mind the pseudo-drama created by countdown lists. I LIVED my teen years debating Q107's top rock albums/singles OF ALL TIME, lists that dominated the radio and my family's conversation each New Year's Day. Me-then-Mad would've wrestled you to the ground if you doubted the supremacy of Dark Side of the Moon for even a second.

No I don't hate movies and lists. What I hate is the friggin' Hollywood engine that drives film supremacy at the expense of other artistic genres. Neither my local paper nor the local TV news offers any arts reporting anymore. It's all syndicated feeds designed to sell movies and the star engine behind them. Movies aren't even reviewed; some slick sounding guy simply describes the plot in a wormy way designed to make you rip your mouth open on the hook. Then the American Film Institute comes along and, essentially, buys a three-hour movie commercial and passes it off as television programming. Grrr.

Late last week, a former teacher and mentor of mine passed away at the age of 81. By the time I landed in his Canadian Literature class in 1987, James Reaney was already as crazy as a loon. He would block the door with a chair precisely at the stroke of 2 so that any late comers would be humiliated upon entering the room. He would, out of the blue, draw maps of South-Western Ontario on the blackboard and then quiz us as to the names of all the counties. "You must know the place you stand in," he would say. He would point out the window and woe betide you if you couldn't identify the species of tree he was pointing at. Once, he gave us an unidentified sight poem to analyze and told us that the result would be worth 10% of our grade. A week later he handed back the assignments. We had all failed. "I should know," he quipped. "I wrote the poem."

It didn't matter how off he sometimes seemed in class. Rumour had it he didn't cope well around the time of year that his 12-year-old son had died. Truth was, he rarely coped well in class. That didn't mean he wasn't inspirational. We all saw the spark of genius in him and he made me, for one, want to prove to him that I had a spark as well. At times, he almost made me believe I did.

None of what I've written matters, really. Professor Reaney's class is nothing but a distant memory. What matters is that he wrote a trilogy of plays in the mid-1970s that are, in my opinion, the greatest literary works to have come out of Canada. Too bold a statement? How about if I say they are the greatest plays ever to have been written and produced in Canada. Do you know them? Sticks and Stones, The St. Nicholas Hotel, Wm Donnelly Prop., and Handcuffs. Combined, they are his retelling of the story of the Black Donnellys of Lucan Ontario. The Donnellys were a scrappy Irish Catholic family that ran a stage coach business in direct competition with a Protestant family in rual, Protestant Ontario. They seemed to get into no end of mischief which is why we may never know why a mob of townsfolk stormed their house in February 1880 and murdered 5 members of the family before burning their house.

In Reaney's hands this Ontario gothic tale is pure poetry and movement. The sets in the plays call for little more than ladders and crates. The language dances. The themes are epic pinned to a small landscape. Reaney breathes unison and crescendo into the word ensemble in a way that I've not seen matched elsewhere. This trilogy is critically acknowledged as some of the best and most influential drama to come out of this country. Have you seen any one of them produced?

Most of you will answer no to this question. Damn you, American Film Institute. You're like a big old Protestant lynch mob descending on what I consider sacred.

Stuff (White) Mommy Bloggers Like

2008-03-30T23:34:00.004-03:00

Have you seen this blog? Stuff White People Like. Apparently it's the new big thing on the internet; the authors have a book deal and everything and they haven't even been blogging for three full months. I poked around it a bit this weekend. When it is good, it is very, very good; when it is bad, it is ... standard-issue, puerile, male internet offensive. And then there are the commenters! Yowza!!! It all makes for a fun blog, though I'm not sure why anyone would want to buy the book--unless it's to put it in the bathroom so that shitting guests will think, "hey, my host is cool, self-reflexive and internet-savvy!"

Now, I may not be a queen of satire but I'm always game for a little self-mockery and, even though I'm afraid this post will go over like a lead fart, I can't resist giving you a list of Stuff (White) Mommy Bloggers Like.

1. Using parenting experts as straw men in order to uphold the virtues of good, old-fashioned common sense: Any self-respecting (White) Mommy Blogger ((W)MB) has written at least one post lambasting a parenting guru. Favourite targets are Dr. Sears, Jack Newman, or any sucker who has ever tried addressing sleep issues in infants. (W)MBs particularly like beating the snot out of male parenting gurus. The same can be said for syndicated parenting columnists, particularly if they too are men. When a (W)MB reads a post of this nature by another (W)MB she usually comments by saying, "You are such a good mother. Only you know what's best for your child." Optionally, she may add a "sistah" to the end of her comment.

2. Contemporary idiom: The (W)MB desires to be young and hip but does not wish to sacrifice a second goal: sounding wise beyond her years. To achieve this, she will often cite noted theorists or canonical authors while simultaneously tossing off words such as dude and asshat. The (W)MB loves linking to The Urban Dictionary. Not only does it make her look dope to her peeps but it draws attention away from the fact that all other links from her blog are to wikipedia and/or posts from her own archive.

3. Letting her heart bleed for all to see: The (W)MB likes to wring her hands at the world's ills. Unfortunately, this makes her fear that doing so smacks of slacktivism. To create a smoke-screen, she will resort to discussing the erosion of journalistic integrity or the socialist politics of Howard Zinn. Sometimes she even links to Wikipedia in an effort to bamboozle.

4. Righteous rage: The (W)MB is a finger-wagger like no other. The focus of her righteous rage is almost always a target external to the (W)MB community because the (W)MB knows that courtesy reigns in the (W)MBlogosphere, dammit. The only exception to this rule is the issue of commercialization of the (W)MBlogosphere. On this issue the righteous rage has been known to fly from all sides. Fortunately for all (W)MBs, most (W)MBs now turn away from any discussions on this issue because it has repeated itself around the (W)MBlogosphere like a radish burp with none of its soothing, warm, healthy aftertaste.

5. Inclusiveness: The (W)MB LOVES inclusiveness, particularly if she is the only one talking about it.

6. Shoes: What (W)MB doesn't like a great pair of shoes? Or boots? Or funky Wellingtons? (W)MBs partucularly like to ask the advice of other (W)MBs before buying shoes. Only seldomly does the (W)MB seek advice on other articles of clothing. This is because it may serve to remind her readership that she has a body and is actually a flesh-and-blood woman, not just the weightless synapses behind a series of insightful and sardonically humourous posts.

7. Breastfeeding controversy: The (W)MB simply loves a good breastfeeding controversy. Sit Bill Maher down in an Applebees or, better yet, have him fly American Airlines and the (W)MB gets all a-tingle. What better way to satisfy righteous rage (see above) than to proclaim oneself a lactivist! Besides, a good tirade against an anti-breast crusader can help a (W)MB forget just how miserable her own experience of lactation truly was.

8. Bratz-bashing: Bratz-bashing is not a universal (W)MB trait. It is the sole domain of the (W)MB with a girl-child. (W)MBs with boy children alternate between wishing they had a girl child and thanking their lucky stars they need not engage in Bratz-bashing. Occasional Barbie and Polly Pocket bashings have been witnessed in the (W)MBlogoshpere but such tirades have paled in comparison to the vitriol needed for a good Bratz-bash.

9. Daddy-bloggers: (W)MBs LOVE daddy-bloggers ... because tokenism feels oh so good when it's turned on its head.

10. Books: (W)MBs are a well-read bunch. They review books. They talk about books. Occasionally, they put pictures of books on their side-bars. They do this in an effort to create an aura of wisdom for their blogs. The (W)MB's ultimate end, though, is to distract other (W)MBs from noticing that the (W)MB must, in fact, be spending her every waking moment writing posts and/or reading other (W)MBlogs instead of books. Ditto for TV, movies and other forms of popular culture.

OK, I open the floor to comments. What did I miss? On the off-chance you don't find the humour in this, please keep in mind that each of these points can be directed squarely at me.

_______________
Re: #3 above. The Just Post round table is just around the corner. Please send your links to me at madhattermommyAThotmailDOTcom if you read or wrote a post or posts about social justice in the month of March. You've got until next Monday night to get them in. Confused? Click on one of the purple birds on the sidebar.

But you don't really care for music, do you?

2008-03-11T23:28:00.004-03:00

My brother-in-law, L, never listens to music. He says it holds no attraction for him; in fact, he finds music a public annoyance because it's always destroying his train of thought. When he's not listening to music (ha!), L is one of the foremost philosophy scholars in Canada. He's also the National Champion for his age group in track cycling. Oh yes, my husband's genes are of the intense, purist variety. Of the four boys, two are professors, one's an anesthesiologist and the other's a stay-at-home dad. The SAHD dad is a Birkebeiner racer (that's x-country skiing for 55 kms while carrying a baby, fyi) and, as you know, MadDad is a marathoner. Like I say, intense.

I got to thinking about L's disdain for music last Tuesday night when my attention was briefly captured by American Idol. I used to be an Idol-head but the show has long since lost its brassy shine for me. In the few minutes the TV was on, I saw a frightfully inarticulate pretty-boy with dread locks do a passing karaoke imitation of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah (ok, Cohen's Hallelujah but no one would ever try to imitate Cohen's vocal stylings, now would they?). The song was trimmed down, of course, to meet time constraints and wouldn't you know it the verses that were removed were the sacred and profane ones. The song became nothing more than a neat break-up song with Old Testament overtones.

The judges were very much pleased with Dread Boy's performance. In fact, Simon Cowell commended it saying, "That was brilliant. The Jeff Buckley version of that song is one of my favourite songs of all time."

Pause

Pause

Pause

Yes, Simon Cowell, our greatest pop culture arch-villain, the man who gave us The Spice Girls and Hunky Tenors Who Sing Air Supply (aka Il Divo), the man who packages cult of personality entertainment and formulaic pap tunes, actually lists Buckley's version of Cohen as an all-time favourite. I need not mention that neither Cohen nor Buckley would have ever got a record deal under Cowell or that a 7 minute song of delicate timing and ethereal precision would never cut it in the Cowell industrial complex. Why, Dread Boy's version on YouTube is only 4 minutes and 24 seconds and that includes his pre-song interview and the judges comments. There's no grace in that. Yet, Mr. s'Cowell loves this song. As do I.

The Cohen version was on one of the first CDs I ever bought. I picked up Buckley's Grace in the mid-90s and, then, just before Miss M was born I treated myself to kd lang's Hymns of the 49th Parallel. When Miss M was a newborn, we would frequently dance together to lang's version of the song. While I suffered the psychic gashes brought on by lactation and all manner of deprivation, my daughter wooed me with her own cold and broken hallelujah. Her fathomless infant eyes never left my face as we swayed around the room.

Then one day, when she was three weeks old, I looked up from one of these dances and saw my husband looking at me enraptured. My sister was there too, having traveled a great distance to initiate me into the rituals of motherhood. It was there that I found grace: in love, in family and in a simple pop tune well executed.

I am no philosopher. The things that I have faith in need no proof. I can live without intensity or purity of purpose. I cannot, however, live without poetry, without music, without art, without veiled glimpses at all that is sacred and profane. Last night, Miss M and I listened to Buckley's Hallelujah while she brushed her teeth. She danced away from the sink wearing nothing but a pj top, her pale bum in the lamplight overthrowing all that I am.

Rapture

2008-02-01T00:00:00.000-04:00

No memory is ever pure, for we all construct narrative in hindsight. I have constructed a strong, bitter narrative around one episode from my childhood such that I have made it a lynch pin of my identity. The memory involves rapture movies. Do you know of these beasts? Have you ever borne witness?

By now you all know that my father died when I was 7. You may even know that he died of a curable disease: Hodgkins--that's the one that sidelined Mario Lemieux for a couple of months back in '93. Even back in the early '70s, Hodgkins was curable if it was detected in time. My dad's was not. Now maybe that was because he was a stubborn, bear-the-pain-in-silence farmer or maybe it was because my small town was serviced by two family doctors who had spent the bulk of their careers as missionaries in Africa and, as such, were not really on top of the diagnostic literature. I don't know the answer for certain but as I mentioned above, I have consciously constructed bitterness from this story.

When my dad died, our doctor felt deep and honest remorse. I'm certain of it. Whether he also felt pangs of guilt, I'll never know. For years following dad's death, the doctor's wife came to visit once each summer carrying a cheque that would send one of us kids to camp. I know this family of devout Christians saw this act as God's work, charitable work. We were dirt poor; going to summer camp was an opportunity we certainly wouldn't have had without their help. The camp, Fair Glen, was a pan-denominational, evangelical Christian organization with a few acres of land about a half-hour from where I grew up. Its sole purpose was make us born again... while teaching us a bit of paddling and bead work on the side.

I remember my first year at camp. I was 12 or 13 years old (but I felt younger) and it was my first time away from home--really away, not just visiting Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Vi or bunking down at Gram's for the night. I was gone a full week without the ability to contact home. On our first night at camp, before we were even able to get to know one another and form strategic social-sanity bonds, we were all herded into the main hall for movie night. We watched A Distant Thunder, a rapture film.

A Distant Thunder begins with a guillotining scene set to a chorus of complacent Christians singing "We shall overcome" dirge-like as they are marched to their death. You see in the prequel to this film, A Thief in the Night, all God's faithful are swept off to heaven in the Rapture. Those left behind are given a choice by Satan's followers: accept the mark of the beast or be executed. The only hope promised to these poor sods is to accept Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour such that their reward will await them on the other side of the blade. Some do. Some do not. All are murdered brutally on-screen.

After the film, we were told that the Rapture could happen at any time, that end-times were at hand. Only those known to Christ would be taken in the Rapture. The rest of us would have to deal with the apocalypse. We then walked back to our cabins, which had no indoor plumbing or electricity, to contemplate our souls and to get a good night's rest. Suffice to say, that night, as I lay on my bunk unable to sleep for fear of being attacked in the night, for fear of simply dissolving, for fear of never seeing my family again and for fear of fear itself, I became born again.

A week later on my return home, CTV carried the "World Television Premiere" of The Omen. I made it as far as the Nanny scene ("Damien, Damien, this I do for you!") before having to leave the room more terrified than I had ever been in my life. I didn't sleep all night, for if I slept on my side I could be attacked from behind. I could easily be smothered if I dozed off on my stomach. Phantom arms were sure to spring up from the bed should I lie on my back. The hands under the bed would no doubt grab my ankles if I made a run for it. Hours passed by and I watched the slow path of headlights crawl around my walls, each light a trumpet blast from one of the horsemen of the apocalypse.

It's not that I was new to Christianity when I walked through the gates of Fair Glen. We were a god-fearing family. When I was little, my mother played the organ at the Anglican church and I helped by putting the hymn numbers up in the hardwood display boards. My Gram was a fire and brimstone Baptist who made sure I attended Pioneer Girls. She was also responsible for the various illustrated editions of the Bible we had kicking around the house. And yet, Christianity was quietly observed in my family, my mother being more a disciple of C.S. Lewis than any kind of organized doctrine.

After my rebirth of duress in Christ, I remained a Christian throughout my teen years though never so earnest and terrified a one as I was that first summer. I returned to camp at least one more time and saw a few more Rapture films before my indoctrination was complete. I eventually joined the United Church and became part of a singing teen ministry. I went to Breakfast Club before Church each Sunday and eventually the social aspects of Christianity won out over all that fear-mongering. At the time, I believed I was a true person of faith but in retrospect I know that my core was hollow on this count.

As I passed into adulthood I began to question so many aspects of Christianity and the Church. I lost my faith entirely and I know deep down that I will never reclaim it. I don't pretend for a second that this loss of faith can all be pegged on a single rapture film, but when you come to God by way of the lion and not the lamb you will always be frightened and unsure. When your experiences are soured by poverty and parental loss such that you can't help but question the motives of even the most sincere do-gooders, you become that proverbial camel on the wrong side of the needle--except that you can't help but wonder to yourself why you would ever want to squeeze yourself back through.

_________________________
This post was written as part of Julie's Hump Day Hmmmm. I would have had it up on Wed except I got too sleepy to finish it last night. And yes, I have read Gwen's post but not until I had this one more or less written. Oh and I have also seen the Mimi Rogers/David Duchovny Rapture, just in case you're wondering.

I wish I had a river

2008-01-18T00:00:00.000-04:00

For the love of hockey and feminists, this Canadian gal finally taught herself to skate in her mid-30s. It's not that I had never tried before. When I was a child, there were always skates kicking around the house. "Girl skates" we called them: always white with that awkward claw of toe-picks that would force you to hobble-glide around the ice if by chance clutz and not lutz was your athletic destiny. It was clear from early on in my childhood that I was nothing more than a Katarina Twit. You'll still see women of my generation working their way around the rink using that tell-tale prissy hobble. I often wonder if those same women are soul sisters: bullied from the rec room by their brothers for asking too many stupid questions when the Leafs played the Habs; coerced into an interest in figure skating; and living for the winter Olympics just to watch the speed skaters fly.

Any skates I wore as a child were ill-fitting. As kid number 5, little was new, little was mine. When I did skate, it was never at a rink. No, "us kids" would trudge across two farmer's fields, dragging shovels, boards and skates to get back to the crick. My prairie husband might call the crick a slough. I don't know what your regional flourish is for a small pool of standing water in the middle of farm country.

We'd arrive at the crick tired from the knee-deep hike and then spend a half an hour clearing the ice before tightening our skates with knuckleless frozen fingers. Five minutes later, after falling repeatedly on the ice's wind-rippled surface, we'd head home for hot chocolate. I'd strip off my wet clothes at the register vent inside the back door and then sit in my underwear, nursing the warm choclately goodness while watching my thighs turn from pink to frost-patchy white to red before settling into their pale mottledness. The whole affair was a make-work production designed to make us patriots if perhaps not skaters.

In my 30s, I joined the Library School women's Co-Rec hockey team. The ability to skate was not a prerequisite in this league. Punny team names were, however, de rigeur. Sadly I cannot take credit for christening The Infomaniacs but my second team a year later, The Booby Orrs, that was all my doing. We were a mixed collection of academic feminists who actually did manage to bring a high degree of collegiality to team sports. And, when it came to skating, being on a hockey team changed everything. I had padding and a stick for stability. I had a purpose with rules to define it. At long last, I wanted to learn. I wanted to be a Canadian Amazon of the Ice. I began showing up for noon hour public skates. I started jumping the boards of my local outdoor community league at midnight. I sought advice: watch the bum of the skater in front of you to establish a rhythm; don't tighten your laces across the foot to prevent cramping but strap your ankles in with all your might, push your heels out from the bum on down to slow down quickly... And, dear readers, at long last I bought hockey skates--still used, but hockey skates nonetheless.

Little by little, I learned that wonderful rocking motion that feels a bit like oblivious escape. I lived in Edmonton at the time where I could skate on the lake at Hawrelak Park or go a few rounds on the Victoria Oval, places where you could build up speed and begin to lose yourself in thought. Outdoor skating offered clean fresh air and endorphins. Other people dream their wanderlust to being by flying to foreign lands. Not me. All I need is a clear, bright -10 day and a patch of unending ice.

Ah but then I moved out here to the Maritimes--where women's hockey is actually played by real Acadian Amazons NOT aging, pudgy feminists with a penchant for living life for its metaphorical resonance. My teammates had little time or sympathy for my spazzy stops and my inability to skate backwards. I spent one season miserable on a flatly named team that was filled with hyper-competitive asshats. I drove to games an hour out of town at 6 am on -20 January days. I practiced the drills. I ate the pizza and drank the beer. I hated every single minute of it.

Now, a few years after quitting, I guess I am a true Canadian skater at long last: you know, the kind of person who can only get access to ice time at public, noon-hour skates. As such, two lunch hours every week, I go around in tight circles, breathing Zamboni fumes and making friendly chit-chat. In this teetering obstacle course of fitness, I am surrounded by the Old Timer hot dogs who stop short of body checking in their efforts to claim ice real estate and by the teetering international students looking for the le vrai chose Canadienne--all the while surrounding the Intolerable Cranstons, figure skaters doomed to spin and leap at centre ice. Theirs is a circle of icy hell more circumscribed than mine. Yet, that rocking hockey motion is sufficiently seductive to keep me coming back week after week, year after year.

Each winter day, I dream of of lakes, rivers and canals, expanses of ice that promise a wintery escape.

Miss M's semi-annual reading round-up

2008-01-15T00:02:00.000-04:00

Blog, blog, blog. Awards, awards, awards. You will recall a time when my mother wrote this blog FOR ME and ABOUT ME. AS IT SHOULD BE. It's time I took over this hobby horse to bring just a bit of the FAMILY back to this so-called family blog. All you mommies and daddies had better get set for a trip to the library with your kidlets because here is my list of the 100 books that tickled my fancy in the last 6 months. By the way, I am almost 3.

I'm still a cultural nationalist in training. The + means the writer and or picture maker is from Canada. I didn't list all the picture makers but some of them I liked a lot. Bossy Mommy decided to use a different colour for the 25 books that we both liked best. If only I could type myself!

Aylesworth, Jim (retold by). Aunt Pitty Patty's Piggy. Illustrated by Barbara McClintock
Aylesworth, Jim (retold by). The Gingerbread Man. Illustrated by Barbara McClintock
Baker, Tanya and Carlton Holm. Harvey the Hiccupping Hippopotamus
Bang, Molly. When Sophie Gets Angry. Really, Really Angry
+Bogart, Jo Ellen. Gifts. Illustrated by Barbara Reid
Two Too Many
+Bourgeous, Paulette. Franklin Goes to School
Franklin is Messy
Franklin's Class Trip
Hurry Up, Franklin
Brett, Jan. Annie and the Wild Animals
Armadillo Rodeo
Berlioz the Bear
Comet's Nine Lives
Fritz and the Beautiful Horses
The Mitten
Town Mouse, Country Mouse
Trouble with Trolls
Carle, Eric. The Very Lonely Firefly
The Very Quiet Cricket
Child, Lauren. My School Play: Sticker Stories (Mom keeps promising me more Charlie and Lola books from the library but they're always checked out.)
Cooper, Helen. The Baby Who Wouldn't Go To Sleep
Delicious, A Pumpkin Soup Story
A Pipkin of Pepper for the Pumpkin Soup (but you really have to start with the original Pumpkin Soup if you haven't read it. It made my first book list. And don't forget Tatty Ratty!)
+Downey, Shirley. Mud Muddelicious Mud: Verse for the Very Young
+Drawson, Blair. Mary Margaret's Tree
Eastman, P. D. Are You My Mother?
+Edwards, Wallace. Mixed Beasts. Verses by Kenyon Cox
+Gagnon, Cecil. A New House. Translated by Patricia Claxton
+Gilman, Phoebe. The Balloon Tree
Hawkes, Kevin. His Royal Buckliness
Healey, Tim. Bear in a Chair
The Cat with Two Homes
Mouse's Magic Paints
Posey's Patterns
Skiddle-dee-daddle (a first book of noises)
Hill, Eric. Spot's Playtime Story book (Mommy cannot bear Spot. She uses the word sycophant but I don't know what that means yet. I think it just might mean that Spot is really, really nice.)
Holmelund Minarik, Else. Father Bear Comes Home
Hughes, Shirley. Helpers
+Hutchins, Hazel. Katie's Babbling Brother
Juster, Norton. The Hello, Goodbye Window Illustrated by Chris Raschka
Lobel, Arnold. Mouse Soup
Mayer, Mercer. All By Myself
I'm Sorry
Just a Mess
Just a Toy
Just For You
Just Going to the Dentist
McCloskey, Robert. Blueberries for Sal
Moss, Lloyd. Zin!, Zin!, Zin!: A Violin
Murphy, Jill. All in One Piece
+Oppel, Kenneth. Peg and the Yeti (There's nothing like a good Newfoundland yarn especially when it features pork scruncheons.)
Oxenbury, Helen. A Bit of Dancing
The Helen Oxenbury Nursery Collection (Ha! I knew I was right. Red Riding Hood talked to strangers and she got eaten up. I knew it. I just knew it would happen.)
Pooley, Sarah. A Day of Rhymes
Reid, Barbara. The Subway Mouse
Rey, H.A. and Margaret. Curious George

Daddy busts a gut at this image

Curious George takes a Job
My Mommy, on the other hand, is fond of the page that includes this

Curious George Rides a Bike
Curious George George Gets a Medal
Curious George Flies a Kite
Curious George Learns the Alphabet
Curious George Goes to the Hospital
Curious George's First Day of School
Curious George's Dinosaur Discovery
Reynolds, Adrian. Pete and Polo's Big School Adventure
Silverstein, Shel. Where the Sidewalk Ends
+Simard, Rémy. My Dog is an Elephant
Sims, Lesley (retold by). How Elephants Got their Wings
+Spinelli, Eileen. City Angel
+Van Laan, Nancy. Busy, Busy Moose
Viorst, Judith. Super Completely and Totally the Messiest
Ward, Cindy. Cookie's Week
Wells, Rosemary. Emily's First 100 Days of School
Noisy Nora
Ruby's Magic Act
Max is it (Santa put these two books in my stocking. I love them. They're really short and they tell the stories of two of my favourite TV episodes. When Mommy saw the Canada Council for the Arts logo in the back of the books, I saw fire blow from her ears. I heard her say something to Daddy about why theatre is a dying art.)
Whybrow, Ian. Bella Gets her Skates On
Willems, Mo. Knufflebunny
There is a Bird on Your Head
Winnie the Pooh: Sing along Songs (Mommy says there is no author for this one, whatsoever. Only the word she used was, uh, bastardized. I don't know what that means exactly but I love pushing the buttons and singing the songs.)

Hallowe'en Books
Bond, Felicia. The Halloween Play
Cuyler, Margery. Skeleton Hiccups
Donaldson, Julia. Room on the Broom
Herman, R.A. The Littlest Pumpkin
Metzger, Steve. Five Spooky Ghosts Playing Tricks at School
Minor, Wendell. Pumpkin Heads
Slater, Teddy. The Spookiest Halloween Ever

Christmas Books
Brett, Jan. Who's That Knocking on Christmas Eve?
The Wild Christmas Reindeer
Burmingham, John. Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present
Dewan, Ted. Crispin: The Pig Who Had it All
+Little, Jean. Pippin the Christmas Pig
Meyer, Mercer. Merry Christmas Mom and Dad
Moore, Clement. The Night Before Christmas (we have 3 editions of it--you can never have too many.)
The Mother Goose Book of Christmas Carols
Roberts, Bethany. Christmas Mice!
Speirs, John. The Best Christmas Hunt Ever
Wood, Don and Audrey. Merry Christmas, Big Hungry Bear

I've also been reading quite a few Chirp magazines that my oh-so-mature friend Alison gave me last fall. They were hers 8 years ago! When Mommy saw how much I liked them, she bought an entire subscription. Lucky for us, Alison's school was selling them.

If you are new to my book lists, there are three more. You can find them on the side bar. I try not to repeat any titles but I sometimes slip up.

Oh, Mommy wants me to remind you all to vote for the people she nominated in the Canadian Blog Awards. Just read the next post to find out who and then vote. And you know, she is my mommy so maybe you could vote for her too while you're there.

ABC, 123; it's as easy as it can be

2007-08-13T00:30:00.000-03:00

In about 24 hours, I'm going to be leaving bloggyland for just over two weeks. Westward ho to see family and to binge on theatre. Promise me you won't write anything interesting while I'm gone, 'kay?

To keep you occupied in the meantime, here is my list of 26-ish (ok, 32) great alphabet books and 10-ish (19, actually) fun counting books. I'll put a link to this post up on my sidebar along with Miss M's two top 100 book lists so that you can easily find them all on your next trip to the library. I had planned to annotate these lists but, duh, I'm traveling half-way cross-country in 24 hours with 1 two year old, 1 frazzled director/husband, 6 actors, 1 car seat, many snacks and various set pieces. Strategic luggage planning NOT critical annotation is my current top priority. And now, the lists:

ABeCedaria should be a magic word

The Adventures of an Apple Pie who was Cut to Pieces and Eaten by Twenty Six Young Ladies and Gentlemen with whom all little people ought to be acquainted. Dover, 1973. Facsimile ed of that published by George Burgess, New York: 1835

Anno, Mitsumasa. Anno's Alphabet: An Adventure in Imagination. Harper: 1975

Azarian, Mary. A Farmer's Alphabet. Godine: 1981

Blake, Quentin. Quentin Blake's ABC. Knopf: 1989

Coletta, Hallie and Irene. From A to Z. Prentice-Hall: 1979

Coudrille, Jonathon. A Beastly Collection. Frederick Warne: 1974

Edens, Cooper. The Glorious ABC. Atheneum: 1990

Edwards, Wallace. Alphabeasts. Kids Can: 2002

Eichenberg, Fritz. Ape in a Cape: An Alphabet of Odd Animals. Harcourt: 1952

Falls, C. B. ABC Book. Doubleday: 1923

Fleming, Denise. Alphabet Under Construction. Holt: 2002

Greenaway, Kate. A Apple Pie. Castle: 1979 (1886)

Grover, Max. The Accidental Zucchini: An Unexpected Alphabet. Harcourt: 1993

Harrison, Ted. A Northern Alphabet. Tundra. 1982

Johnson, Philip and David Peacock. The Great Canadian Alphabet. Hounslow: 1983

Johnson, Stephen T. Alphabet City. Penguin: 1995

Kipling, John Lockwood. A Kipling ABC. Macmillan: 1979 (1902)

Lalicki, Barbara and Margot Tomes. If there were Dreams to Sell. Lothrop: 1984

Lear, Edward. A Nonsense Alphabet. Bloomsbury: 1988 (1862)

Major, Kevin. Eh? To Zed: A Canadian Abecedarium. Red Deer Press: 2000 (read it out loud; the fun is in the words on the tongue.)

McDonnell, Flora. Flora McDonnell's ABC. Candlewick: 1997

Moore, Yvette and Jo Bannatyne-Cugnet. A Prairie Alphabet. Tundra: 1992

Nicholson, William. An Alphabet. William Heinemann: 1975 (1898)

Roache, Gordon. A Halifax ABC. Tundra: 1987

Rubin, Cynthia Elyce. ABC Americana from the National Gallery of Art. Harcourt: 1989

Tallon, Robet. Rotten Kidphabets. Holt, Rhinehart & Winston: 1975

Tarlow, Nora. An Easter Alphabet. Putnam: 1991

Thornhill, Jan. A Wildlife ABC: A Nature Alphabet. Greey de Pencier: 1988

Van Allsburg, Chris. The Z was Zapped. Houghton Mifflin: 1987

Wormell, Christopher. An Alphabet of Animals. Collins: 1990

AND if you don't know about Dutch's alphabet books over at Sweet Juniper, get your mouse hand in gear and check them out. I was hoping to get them both printed up as books for Miss M for Christmas but I don't know if Dutch still has the high-end files available to allow this to happen. I'll have to look into this all when I get back from vacation and when I start thinking forward to Christmas.

One, two, three four, can I have a little more?

Anno, Mitsumasa. Anno’s Counting Book. Crowell: 1975

Argent, Rod Trince and Kerry. One Woolly Wombat. Omnibus: 1982

Bang, Molly. Ten, Nine, Eight. Greenwillow: 1983

Burmingham, John. Just Cats. Viking Press: 1983

Burton, Katherine. One Gray Mouse. Kids Can: 1995.

Crossley Holland, Kevin. Under the Sun and Over the Moon. Orchard: 1989

Ehlert, Lois. Fish Eyes: A Book You Can Count On. Harcourt: 1990

Friskey, Margaret. Chicken Little: Count-to-ten. Children’s Press: 1946

Gregoire, Caroline. Counting with Apollo. Kane Miller: 2004

Hepworth, Cathy. Antics! Putnam: 1992

Heyboer O’Keefe, Susan. One Hungry Monster. Little Brown, 1989

Lofgren, Ulf. One-Two-Three. Addison-Wesley: 1973. Originally published in Stockholm, 1970

MacCarthy, Patricia. Ocean Parade. Dial: 1990

McGuire, Richard. The Orange Book. Rizzoli: 1992

Morales, Yuyi. Just a Minute: A Trickster Tale and Counting Book. Raincoast: 2003

Moss, Lloyd. Zin! Zin! Zin! A Violin. Simon and Schuster: 1995

Radunsky, Vladimir. 10 (ten). Viking: 2002. (ok, so it's not really a counting book but it is just plain fun.)

Sendak, Maurice. One Was Johnny: A Counting Book. Harper and Row: 1962

Sis, Peter. Going Up! Greenwillow: 1989

There you have it. The age ranges for these books vary quite a bit and some of them are quite old. I just happen to like them all. As always, if you want to add to the list of recommendations, feel free to fill the comments section. Oh, and if you are going to put up your kitsch photos, make sure I know about that too so I can add the links when I get back.

Enjoy the rest of your summer.

Cue silence.

Summer reading

2007-07-26T14:40:00.000-03:00

Miss M here. Did you know that I am 2 and 1/2 today? Mom's gift to me was the chance to guest post. I thought that some of the other 2 and 3 -year-olds out there just might be interested in what I've been reading since I turned two.* In fact, the Mayor recently emailed me wonderin' what books were in my beach bag. Besides, with all those Moms and Dads holed up with Harry Potter, a kid's gotta have something to while away the time. Without further ado, I give you:

The 100 Best Books I Read in the Last Six Months: 2-2.5
Legend:
* Canadian
+ poetry collection
bold my top 20

Madeline by Ludwig Bemelans
Madeline's Rescue by Ludwig Bemelans
Birthday Monsters by Sandra Boynton
The Important Book by Margaret Wise Brown
Little Fur Family by Margaret Wise Brown
Hand Rhymes by collected and illustrated by Marc Brown +
Silly Billy by Anthony Browne

One Gray Mouse by Katherine Burton *
Ella Sarah Gets Dressed by Margaret Chodos-Irvine
Sometimes I Like to Curl up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill
Tatty Ratty by Helen Cooper
--little Miss Smartie Pants Mommy keeps meaning to write a review of this book and Cooper's other book, Pumpkin Soup that made my toddler list. Can I just say that I want Helen Cooper to adopt me? That's how much I loved these books. The cadence of the prose, the illustrations, the subtle humour... ah! perfection. Mom is always grouching about how we need more Cooper at the library and then sighing heavily each time she gets her Visa statement.
Mrs. Wishy Washy by Joy Cowley
Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type by Doreen Cronin
Diary of a Spider by Doreen Cronin
The Little Dog Laughed and other Nursery Rhymes illustrated by Lucy Cousins
Ella the Elephant by Carmela and Stephen D'Amico
The Classic Treasury of Best-Loved Children's Poems illustrated by Penny Dann +
A Child's Treasury of Nursery Rhymes compiled and illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton * +
Mud Muddelicious Mud: Verse for the Very Young by Shirley Downie * +
Olivia by Ian Falconer
Olivia Saves the Circus by Ian Falconer
Olivia forms a Band by Ian Falconer
Bee Gets a Sweater by Keith Faulkener
Tap, Tap, Tap: What can it be? by Keith Faulkener
A-tisket, a-tasket by Ella Fitzgerald; illustrated by Ora Eitan
Beast Feast by Douglas Florian
A Pocket for Corduroy by Don Freeman
Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French
The Three Little Pigs illustrated by Marie Louise Gay
Grandma and the Pirates by Phoebe Gilman *
Jillian Jiggs and the Secret Surprise by Phoebe Gilman *
The Wonderful Pigs of Jillian Jiggs by Phoebe Gilman *
Jillian Jiggs to the Rescue by Phoebe Gilman *
Something from Nothing by Phoebe Gilman *
Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes
Jessica by Kevin Henkes
Lily's Purple Plastic Purse by Kevin Henkes
Lily's Big Day by Kevin Henkes
Once Around the Block by Kevin Henkes
Owen by Kevin Henkes
Shiela Rae the Brave by Kevin Henkes
Corduroy Lost and Found by B. Hennessy based on the Freeman books
Sea, Sand, Me by Patricia Hubbell
Hiding by Shirley Hughes
Colours by Shirley Hughes +
Songs for Annie Rose by Shirley Hughes +
Toot and Puddle: Charming Opal by Hollie Hobbie
The Llama Who had No Pajama by Maryann Hoberman +

Our Day at the Seashore by Amy and Richard Hutchings
Katie's Babbling Brother by Hazel Hutchins *
Rollie Pollie Ollie by William Joyce
Take Me Out to the Ball Game by MaryAnn Kovalski *
Lavender's Blue: A Book of nursery Rhymes compiled by Kathleen Lines +

Yummer's Too: the Second Course by James Marshall
Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault
Chicka Chicka 123 by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What do you See? by Bill Martin Jr.
Baby Bear, Baby Bear, What do you see? by Bill Martin Jr.
Piggy and Dad Go Fishing by David Martin
Dahlia by Barbara McClintock
The Oxford 123 Book of Number Rhymes by Robert McGough +
The Real Mother Goose Book of Christmas Carols
All in One Piece by Jill Murphy
Peg and the Yeti by Kenneth Oppel *
The Oxenbury Nursery Story Book compiled and illustrated by Helen Oxenbury +

A Bit of Dancing by Helen Oxenbury
The Ocean Alphabet Book by Jerry Pallota
The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn
A day of rhymes compiled by Sarah Pooley +
Beneath a Blue Umbrella by Jack Prelutsky +
For Laughing Out Loud: Poems to Tickle Your Funny Bone selected by Jack Prelutsky +
10 Minutes 'Til Bedtime by Peggy Rathmann
The Gift by Barbara Reid *
My Friend Rabbit by Eric Rohmann
Beach Day by Karen Roosa
Tales from Parc La Fontaine by Roslyn Schwartz *

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak
The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss
My Many Colored Days by Dr. Seuss
Duck on a Bike by David Shannon
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer
Mama Loves Me by Mara Van Fleet
So Say the Little Monkeys by Nancy Van Laan
Frog in Love by Max Velthius
Super-Completely and Totally the Messiest by Judith Viorst
Farmer Duck by Martin Waddell

Noisy Nora by Rosemary Wells
I Spy Little Christmas by Walter Wick
"More more more" said the baby : 3 love stories by Vera B. Williams
The King of Capri by Jeanette Winterson
The Napping House by Don and Audrey Wood
Piggies by Audrey and Don Wood
Here's a Little Poem edited by Jane Yolen +
How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? by Jane Yolen
any one of a number of cheap peg puzzle board books
any one of a number of Thomas the Tank Engine cheapo board books
any one of a number of magnetic counting, alphabet, or rudimentary spelling books
any one of a number of cheapo electronic music, sing-a-long books

*And ya, some of these books are meant for 4 and 5-year olds. It's also true that I still read baby books. Why must they put such limited age ranges on children's books. It's soooo totally oppressive.

I hope you like my list. You know what, though?. My silly mother decided to re-read all the Harry Potter books before finishing off the series. She made this decision in June. Like, duh! This means that she is only finishing up #5 now. Please help me! Can you ask your pre-schoolers to recommend some good books to tide me over until Mom is done? Thanks. I knew I could count on you.

______________

A note from the editor, compiler and chief amanuesnis aka Mad: Miss M puts quite a bit of work into drawing up these lists. She does it because she hopes that they will make helpful library cheat sheets for all her sphere-y friends. Please feel free to tell as many people as you like about them so that her work won't be in vain.

Oh and Miss M insists on writing these posts herself because she doesn't trust my adult editorializing. Not that I would ever do that. She really wants you to know about the books SHE loves regardless of whether her children's lit crit and librarian mother agrees. Little does she know that her mother plans revenge by posting a list of 26 wonderful alphabet books and 10 counting books without consulting her daughter whatsoever. Soon. I promise.

OK, I'm off now to help Miss M put links to this list and to her toddler list on the sidebar. Miss M finds Blogger a bother sometimes. I can't imagine why.

__________

Because I'm not posting as much these days, I thought I would give you all an early heads up about the upcoming Just Posts. You know the drill: if you have read or written a post or posts dealing with social justice in the month of July, drop me or Jen a line. You've got until August 7th. We'll put the linky love list up on Aug 10th. I'm madhattermommyAThotmailDOTcom.

The local chapter

2007-05-21T23:59:00.000-03:00

I'm back on the Monday Mission band wagon. This week's challenge is to write a blog post in the format of meeting minutes.

Union of Story Book Characters
Local 520
Minutes of the 2007 AGM

Meeting date: May 21, 2007
Meeting time: after bedtime
In attendance: Jillian Jiggs, Mouse-A-Cookie, Spot, Corduroy, Ruby, Max, Bear Hunt Family, Duck, Sophie, Caterpillar, Harold, Mr. Brice, misc baby faces and flaps.

Regrets: The Runaway Bunny, the Owl, and the Pussycat

Minutes recorded by union secretary, Harold

Agenda
1. Welcome
2. Equity
3. Narration
4. Replacement workers
5. Job security
6. Extended health plan
7. Report of the New Technology Committee
8. Any other business

1. Welcome
Union foreman, Spot, welcomed everyone to the meeting. Attendees were invited to help themselves to cookies with candy sprinkles and cake with butter-cream roses made by Ruby and to all nine kinds of pie drawn up by Harold.

2. Equity
After working his way through a variety of snacks and while munching on a nice green leaf, the Very Hungry Caterpillar raised the issue that books in the living room are being read in far greater number and with more frequency than books in the family room or the bedroom. This situation has created an inequitable work load for union members. Discussion ensued. It was decided that in the next round of contract negotiations, union members would demand either a) equitable hours of work in all three household reading locales or b) routine redistribution of books throughout the house to ensure employment equity.

"Strike!" said Max.

3. Narration
Jillian Jiggs brought a motion to the membership:

"I'm Jillian, Jillian, Jillian Jiggs
Please don't make my story be read out by pigs.
I really don't want to be read by that Dad
Who stops to point out every single doo-dad
'Vocab building', he calls it, oh please!
I just get going and he makes me freeze
Only Mom is the greatest, only Mom, it is true
Can read in a cadence that carries me through."

Ms. Jiggs backed up her motion by presenting a letter of support from the splinter union, the International Brotherhood of Boynton Hippopotamuses.

Sophie got angry, really, really angry. She reminded the membership that this union also represents the numerous wordless picture books in the house and that while they may not have a voice at this meeting, Carl would not take kindly to any decision to ban the observational narrative style of the MadDad. Sophie then presented supporting documentation that illustrated the concerns of Carl, Gorilla and other representatives of the wordless picture book working group.

Spot motioned that the union take no further action with respect to demanding narrative change in the household. Ruby seconded. The vote passed with only one dissenting voice. "Strike!" said Max.

4. Replacement workers
The Bear Hunt Family noted that a large proportion of the books entering the house come from the library where Mad Hatter works. "Oh-oh, scabs! Free-to-borrow scabs! Can't go over them. Can't go under them. Oh no. Got to go through them." Discussion ensued. The membership shared a unanimous concern about the unfair competition faced by the library replacement workers but, given management's pro-library stance, it was agreed that no effective action could be taken at this time to remedy the situation.

"Strike!" said Max.

5. Job Security
Smiling all the while, a representative of the baby-face and lift-the-flap working group expressed concern about job security. The fear was that their positions in the organization had been designed with built-in obsolescence and that they would soon be laid off permanently. Spot assured the babies and flaps that he had been cozying up to management and learned that a close personal friend would be opening up a branch plant in October. He had been given assurances that all the employees whose jobs were in danger would find work at the new plant.

"Strike!" said Max.

6. Extended health care
Mr. Brice led the discussion. "My mice are nice," said Mr. Brice, "but Miss M is a health hazard not just for them but for all the pop-up and moveable characters in the union. We demand a supplementary health-care package in the next round of contract negotiations." Discussion ensued. Condolences were offered to Peter Mouse and Sally Mouse, both of whom had suffered a brutal attack at the hands of Miss M. Mouse-a-cookie mentioned that "if you give Miss M a pop-up book, she's going to want scotch tape to go with it. If you give her the scotch tape, she's going to want to tear you to shreds..."

Ruby remarked that ever since the "Jack and Jill" litigation of a few years back, management has been quite amenable to all health-care requests made on behalf of union members. Duck added that rumours of an impending bird flu pandemic were making both management and union members uneasy. He claimed to speak for all the ducks, chickens and geese within the greater membership.

It was decided to approach management for more comprehensive extended health coverage on behalf of all union members. Duck being a neutral party was asked to carry the ultimatum to Miss M(anagement).

"Strike!" said Max.

7. Report of the New Technology Committee
As Committee Chair, Ruby reported that there was great potential for union members wishing to branch out into television and DVD work. The committee as a whole, though, felt that a goodly amount of the integrity of each union member was at risk in this experimentation with new technology. Corduroy corroborated. "I'm a simplistic Treehouse character. I never wanted to be a simplistic Treehouse character." He then muttered something about missing Lisa before falling asleep. There was a general consensus that the members had a greater chance at longevity in their careers if they focused primarily on their work in print.

Spot thanked the committee for its report.

"Strike!" said Max.

8. Any Other Business
Spot mentioned that the newly appointed Mediator in the region was none other than Mother Goose. Concerns were expressed over her ability to remain neutral during labour negotiations given that she is the CEO of the largest story-book conglomerate in history. Harold offered reassurances that despite her current corporate profile, Mother Goose, in her early days, mentored some of the all-time greats in the story-book labour movement: Mary, Mary Quite Contrary (Landscapers United); Wee Willie Winkie (Curfew Teamsters); and Bobby Shaftoe (The Brotherhood of the May-Be-Married Mariners).

The membership, by and large, agreed that this development had an uncertain outcome and that the union's best strategy was to avoid a breakdown in negotiations for the forseeable future. There was one lone dissenting voice. "Strike!" said Max.

The meeting adjourned just before dawn.

Generation Logo

2007-01-31T23:48:00.000-04:00

Consider this post part 4 in my How Capitalism Keeps on Winning Series. In this series I examine how parenthood has forced me deeper into consumer culture than I have ever felt comfortable being. I'm not concerned with sweet, Lucy-with-a-lemonade-stand, happy-go-lucky free enterprise, here. No, what I'm talkin' about is LUCY-WANTING-A-CHRISTMAS-TREE-THAT'S-PINK-AND-SHINY capitalism and its ever increasing bullying tactics that push us all towards conspicuous consumption despite our better judgment.

The topic on my plate today:

the corporate branding of babies
(awww, isn't he sweet?)

But first an image from simpler times:

In the mid-1990s, when I first heard about the Munchkin baby bottles that sported the Pepsi logo, I was decidedly ill at ease. Why, on God's green earth, would anyone ever think it a good idea to market bottles for babies with soft drink logos on them? Then I learned that not only did these bottles sell well but also that infants were four times more likely to drink pop from one of these bottles than from a non-branded baby bottle. Given the price of pop relative to milk, it was hardly surprising that some families turned to soda here and there as a substitute for proper nutrition.

Ah, but those were the good ole 1990s. Public outcry forced the manufacturers to stop making the bottles and, now, you're hard pressed to find even an internet image of the wretched things to plop into a blog post.

Oh halcyon days of innocence, how I mourn your passing.

Special Sauce

Flash forward a decade and we are so bloody immersed in consumer culture that we don't even notice its increasing march towards our children. I offer examples:

Exhibit A: My daughter's toothbrushes
Last Christmas, I put a toothbrush in my daughter's stocking. It was an Oral B, Stage 1 toddler toothbrush in a lovely yellow and pink colour scheme. This was her first toothbrush. She was about to embark on an activity that she will perform daily for the rest of her life. In case you haven't noticed already, I'm really big on object symbolism, so this whole toothbrush-in-the-stocking ritual gave me no end of warm fuzzies.

Two months later when I returned to the toothbrush aisle to replace it, everything had changed. Oral B has signed a deal with Disney and all their toddler toothbrushes are now plastered with product placement: Baby Einstein on the brushes for the under 2's and Winnie the Pooh for the 2-4 yr-old set. Because nowhere else in town stocks any alternative to this product, I suck it up every 2-3 months and buy the bloody things. Each night, now, I have to repeatedly tell my daughter to stick the wretched thing back in her mouth and BRUSH HER TEETH WITH IT. As far as she is concerned, the toothbrush is nothing more than a toy. As far as Disney is concerned, it's nothing more than cheap advertising to its most valued demographic.

Exhibit B: My daughter's diapers
The seed for this post was planted back in November. That's when the diaper brand that I had been using suddenly changed. The diapers used to have Snoopy across the top--a recognizable icon, for sure, but not one that is hip with the toddlers of today. In the switch from old to new market ethics, though, this diaper brand replaced Snoopy with some more sinister "Genius Baby" icons. And as if that wasn't bad enough, in their move towards progress the company also turned the world's most perfect disposable diaper into a crap rag that leaked every two hours AND they discontinued selling the diapers in the mega-box size, a size that minimized price and excess packaging. To sum it up, the diapers became more expensive per unit, far worse at doing their job and more insidious when it came to branding my child. I stopped buying them immediately.

But what then were my options? I had already tried and had a terrible experience with cloth diapers when Miss M was younger. The cloth leaked several times a day making the laundry levels (diapers, her clothes, my clothes) unbearable. Sure I could've bought better cloth diapers but I had already invested $150 on the only (and sadly ineffectual) cloth diapers sold locally. To branch out I would've needed to order online, experimenting with different brands and, frankly, with a then five-month-old, I opted for convenience.

Fast forward a year and a half and there I was in a disposable diaper pickle. The only other options available to me at the grocery store were Huggies and Pampers. Yup, that's more branding than you can shake a stick at. Elmo to the left of me, Grover to the right of me, Pooh up the rear. The result? My daughter now knows the names of all the Sesame Street characters and she has never once seen Sesame Street. It sometimes takes three times as long to change her diaper because she wants to play with Grover first OR she wants to wear Ernie when I've already scooped a Cookie Monster from the top of the pile. When we go to Toys'r'Us she points out all the Elmo products by name and loiters around them in a most unnerving way.

But there is hope on the horizon. It won't be long before potty training begins chez Hat. Today I was out and about and noticed a bunch of size two, girl underwear in a discount bin. Calvin Klein underwear. For two year olds. And you know what? I scooped up as much of it as I could. Why? Because aside from the "CK" discretely written across the waistband, these underwear are plain: blue, pink, red and pretty patterned cherries. You see, I'll be damned if I will let Disney or whatever-the-hell-else company hawk its toys on my daughter's crotch. That's my line in the sand, Dora; that's my line in the sand.

Yes, yes, I hear your gentle scolding voices, oh wise mothers of the blogosphere. I hear the accepting mockery of "I told you so" that I know I am sure to hear next fall when I will no doubt confess to you all that "since starting day care my daughter demands Dora on her heiny" and if my daughter wants it loud enough or persistently enough, I will cave faster than the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man when the streams are crossed.

Exhibit C: My daughter's birthday presents
I recently bought two significant birthday presents for my daughter: a doll house and a table and chairs set. After all my moaning about the Christmas kitchen, I vowed I would stick to wooden toys for her birthday. Phhhft! No one in town carries wooden doll houses (or hardly any other wooden toys whatsoever for that matter). The independent toy store doesn't carry a single doll house. The Toys'r'Us at the mall stocks only two: the Barbie house and the Bratz house. Muttering something about a cold day in hell, I hit the internet and found the perfect (expensive, made with responsible labour practices and constructed of non-toxic materials) wooden doll house online. I ordered it.

I did manage to find one wooden table and chair set in town that wasn't Dora or Thomas branded. When I say one, I mean one. I bought the very last one in the city--and this was a product that wasn't even stocked in the store two weeks earlier. All of which brings me to the cranky conclusion that if I want to walk the straight and narrow as a consumer anxious to protect the environment and keep my child from being branded, I need to order all my products off the internet. In other words, I am forced to sacrifice my equal desire to keep my local economy vibrant.

Rock. [ME] Hard place.

It all makes me so freakin' cranky. Why, oh why, must it be so hard to raise a child without branding her in the process? Why does my desire to do so and to speak about it feel like an act of radicalism when, to me, it just seems like plain, old-fashioned common sense?

The branding of the toys, I can almost live with but marketing toys on diapers and toothbrushes--on the very products she MUST use--should not be legal, IMHO. Given the way things are progressing I can't help but ask, "What's next?" Her food? Will Elmo logos be mini-stickered onto all her fruits and vegetables? Heck why waste money on stickers? Why not just do what the ranchers do and burn or bruise the logo right into the flesh? I realize this sounds ridiculous. It is, but not for the reasons we all think it is. After all, the mega-corps don't really want us eating produce anyway, do they? Nope, they'd rather see us eating refined packaged goods that have a more stable price-point and that mess with our blood sugar levels thus making us always want more, more, more.

The other day a saw a child beat his mother down in the granola bar aisle, insisting on the sugary Tweety Bird granola bars over the cheaper, more nutritional package. And the cereal aisle? It's nothing but a minefield for intrepid toddler-cart pushing parents. So far infant formula and baby food jars are free from Dora's, Elmo's and any Disneyfied Einstein icon but how much longer can this last before there are no more people left who care enough to question it?

And what of our children? Will they grow up to think this kind of branding is nothing but the natural state of things? I want my daughter's first memories of her time on this earth to be of family hugs and story times; of snowmen and imaginative play. I don't want her memories to revolve around which muppet was her preferred piss receptacle.

Please come to mama. Please?

Bored? No Board

2007-01-12T00:25:00.000-04:00

Um, hi everyone. Miss M here. Listen, I was doing a bit of web surfing the other day, trying to find pictures of frogs and toads and the like when I stumbled upon Beck's blog. Anyway, I noticed in the comments that my mother (such an embarrassment) brazenly stated that she could likely recommend 100 good toddler books. Personally, I think it high time that someone took that "I'm a children's literature librarian" smug look off her face. C'mon, without me she wouldn't have a blessed clue about books for the under three set. Nope, she'd likely have her nose in some YA piece of crap or a Nancy Farmer fantasy or, most likely, she'd be watching yet another Mandy Moore, coming-of-age tear-jerker on DVD. You know and I know that she'd be nothing without me.

So, for those of you who are interested, I'd like to share my list of the 100 best books I read in my second year of life. Heck, my mom doesn't even like them all but let me assure you, I have read each of them at least 100 times and can offer nothing but a whole-hearted endorsement. To make it easier for you the next time you're headed to the library, I have listed the books in rough order of my liking them. At the top of the list you'll find all titles I loved when I was a newly minted toddler. If you want to know what I read now that I am older and wiser(23 1/2 months) , move toward the bottom of the list.

Miss M's Guide to Toddler Books
1. Anyone of a dozen books with pictures of babies or toddlers getting up to crazy antics. I could not get enough of that stuff. Might I recommend Baby Talk! or What Do You Do With an Orange?
2. Goodness, how I loved my vocabulary books. Bright Baby published some of my favs but, really, if the book had a single picture matched with a single word on each page, I was lovin’ every minute of it.
3. Did someone say lift-the-flap? Did someone say peek-a-boo? I have some very, very fond memories that I won’t bother sharing with you right now. Let’s just say, “the classics never get old.”
4. Listen, I didn’t care what the books were called but if they had photos of puppies, kittens or farm animals my heart melted. Ooooo the wittle animals were sooo cute. I remember a book called Busy Kitties and another called Puppy Love. The rest is a blur.
5. Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown
6. Time for Bed by Mem Fox
7. Yo Baby! by Roslyn Schwartz *
8. Goodnight Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann (laugh? I thought I’d die.)
9. I Can, I See, I Hear and I Touch all by Helen Oxenbury
10. One Gorgeous Baby by Martine Oborne
11. Barnyard Dance by Sandra Boynton
12. Moo, Baa, La la la by Sandra Boynton
13. Blue Hat Green Hat by Sandra Boynton
14. The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton
15. But Not the Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton
16. Hippos Go Berserk by Sandra Boynton (you’ll notice that I take an academic interest in the oevre of certain author/illustrators.)
17. The Belly Button Book by Sandra Boynton
18. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss (I had the tubby book version)
19. Hand, Hand Fingers Thumb by Al Perkins
20. Alligator Pie by Dennis Lee; illustrated by Nora Hilb *
21. Willoughby Wallaby Woo by Dennis Lee; illustrated by Nora Hilb *
22. Silvery, Silvery/Good Night by Dennis Lee; illustrated by Nora Hilb *
23. Jelly Belly by Dennis Lee; illustrated by Nora Hilb *
24. Carry Me by Rosemary Wells
25. My First Mother Goose compiled by Iona Opie; illustrated by Rosemary Wells
26. Here Comes Mother Goose compiled by Iona Opie; illustrated by Rosemary Wells
27. Read to your Bunny boxed set with Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Old MacDonald, The Bear Went Over the Mountain, and The Itsy Bitsy Spider
28. Peepo by Janet and Allan Ahlberg
29. Each Peach Pear Plum by Janet and Allan Ahlberg
30. The Day the Babies Crawled Away by Peggy Rathmann
31. No David! By David Shannon
32. Little Gorilla by Ruth Lercher Bornstein
33. Little Quack by Lauren Thompson
34. Little Quack’s Bedtime by Lauren Thompson
35. Food For Thought by Saxton Freymann (now this is what I call ART)
36. Baby Food by Saxton Freymann
37. Dog Food by Saxton Freymann
38. How Are you Peeling? by Saxton Freymann
39. Goodnight Country by Susan Verlander
40. Good Morning City by Susan Verlander
41. The Owl and the Pussy Cat by Edward Lear (I had the one illustrated by Jan Brett. Pure delight.)
42. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
43. Does a Kangaroo Have a Mother Too? by Eric Carle
44. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do you See? by Bill Martin Jr. Illustrated by Eric Carle
45. Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? by Bill Martin Jr. Illustrated by Eric Carle
46. Love and Kisses by Sarah Wilson
47. Kiss, Kiss by Margaret Wild
48. Good Dog Carl by Alexandra Day
49. Carl Goes Shopping by Alexandra Day
50. Carl’s Afternoon in the Park by Alexandra Day
51. Carl Makes a Scrapbook by Alexandra Day
52. Baby Beluga (whoa cool it’s like my favourite Raffi song as a book! Can life get better?) *
53. The Wheels on the Bus (ohhhh yesssss, more Raffi in print) *
54. Maisy’s Best Friends by Lucy Cousins
55. Maisy’s Snowy Christmas Eve by Lucy Cousins
56. Max and Ruby’s Snowy Day by Rosemary Wells
57. Max’s Christmas by Rosemary Wells
58. Max and the Chocolate Chicken by Rosemary Wells
59. Planting a Rainbow by Lois Ehlert
60. The Foot Book by Dr. Seuss
61. Jamberry by Bruce Degan
62. We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen; illustrated by Helen Oxenbury
63. 10 Minutes ‘til Bedtime by Peggy Rathmann
64. Diary of a Worm by Doreen Cronin
65. Eloise’s What I Absolutely Love, Love, Love by Kay Thomspson
66. Bud the Spud (yup. That’d be the Stompin’ Tom classic--illustrated. Oh and can you believe this? My sitter had NEVER even heard the song before. Shame.) *
67. Corduroy by Don Freeman
68. Corduroy’s Street (a cheap knock off but frankly I was a sucker for it)
69. Corduroy’s Busy Day (ditto)
70. How to be a Cow by Bo Vine (seriously, that’s what it says on the title page. It also says that the illustrations are by Shelly Meredith. Mom and I found it in a discount bin at the grocery store)
71. I love you because you’re you by Liza Baker
72. My Dad by Charles Fuge
73. Click, Clack, Splish, Splash by Doreen Cronin
74. Red is Best by Cathy Stinson *
75. Oh! by Kevin Henkes
76. Kitten’s First Full Moon by Kevin Henkes
77. The Pop-up Mice of Mr Brice by Theo. LeSieg
78. My Nest is Best by P. D. Eastman
79. If you give a mouse a cookie by Laura J. Numeroff; illustrated by Felicia Bond
80. If you give a pig a pancake by Laura J. Numeroff; illustrated by Felicia Bond
81. If you give a moose a muffin by Laura J. Numeroff; illustrated by Felicia Bond
82. Mole’s Hill by Lois Ehlert
83. Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson
84. Simon and the Snowflakes by Gilles Tibo *
85. Simon and the Wind by Gilles Tibo *
86. Simon in Summer by Gilles Tibo *
87. Simon and his Boxes by Gilles Tibo *
88. Tales from Parc La Fontaine by Roslyn Schwartz *
89. The Complete Adventures of the Mole Sisters by Roslyn Schwartz *
90. Stella, Star of the Sea by Marie Louise Gay *
91. Stella Fairy of the Forest by Marie Louise Gay *
92. Stella Princess of the Sky by Marie Louise Gay *
93. Good Night Sam by Marie Louise Gay *
94. Good Morning Sam by Marie Louise Gay *
95. Ella Takes the Cake by Carmela D’Amico
96. Colours by Shirley Hughes
97. Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus by Mo Willems (vroom vroom, vroomy vroom, vroom)
98. Jillian Jiggs by Phoebe Gilman *
99. Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans
100. Frozen Noses by Jan Carr
101. Elliot Gets Stuck by Andrea Beck *
102. Elliot Digs for Treasure by Andrea Beck *
103. Elliot’s Noisy Night by Andrea Beck *
104. Elliot Takes a Bath by Andrea Beck *
105. Spot’s Giant Treasury by Eric Hill

Criminey, I somehow made it to 105. The problem is I'm getting sick of all these books now. Mom keeps going on about how there are plenty more by these authors. She also sometimes gets all feverish and starts speaking in tongues: Burmingham, Wadell, Browne, Weisner, Lunn, Reid, Van Allsburg, Alborough,Yolen, Wood, Steig... She goes on and on and it scares me.

The thing is, I don't always like what she brings home. I don't suppose you moms and dads could do me a favour? Could you ask your toddlers for suggestions and then report back here and let me know. Once I have a list, I'll try to subtly bring up names the next time we're at the library. Knowing ole mommy smarty pants, she'll likely think the ideas were all hers in the first place. She's that way.

* BTW, I'm a cultural nationalist in training. The ones with the star are Canadian.

How I wonder what you are

2006-11-28T23:28:00.000-04:00

I was cuddling Miss M on the couch Saturday morning, cradling my coffee in one hand and a book in the other. My arm was around her and the chill of our back family room bit our noses as we snuggled under a blanket. This is one of the most familiar and cherished scenes in my life, as comfortable and familiar as my stretched elastic waistband pajamas and my worn-out sheep skin slippers. In that end-of-book silent pause Miss M burst into song:

J'aime papa
J'aime mama
J'aime Baby Daisy aussie

"What?" I thought to myself with more than a few exclamation marks. To the best of my knowledge, my daughter does not speak French. Yet here she was declaring her love (if rather dubiously in the same company as Baby Daisy) in the language of love itself.

WASPy old me, I speak French about as well as the next box of Shreddies. I do, however, live in Canada's only officially bilingual province, a province that is butted up against Quebec. Suffice to say my ear knows the difference between Ken Dryden French and la chose authentique. Miss M was singing la langue propre. One of her sitters is francophone by birth and, no doubt, she has been singing and possibly even speaking to Miss M in French, all of which is lovely. It's just that until this moment I didn't know. This woman is accent-free bilingual and I have a very unilingual relationship with her. I didn't have a clue that she was bilingual with my daughter.

This moment of being ripped quickly and wholly from my profoundly familiar world got me thinking about the power of language to transform. It also got me really thinking about the infant ability to absorb and acquire language in all its verbal complexity. Language acquisition is an aptitude that erodes quickly as we age. This fact saddens me greatly. Just imagine what our lives would be like if we retained this ability as we got older, the ability to hear and speak the words of others correctly, as they were intended, and with all the beauty and nuance of the native tongue. Imagine if we had access to all the world's languages to pick and choose from as we wish. Imagine if we could each make a lexicon of our own choosing to describe the world according to our own sense of aesthetics. There are definitely English words I adore like "slacks," "sandwich" and "chesterfield" that I would always keep in my vocabulary but oh how wonderful it would be to augment them with multi-lingual synonyms. I could take étoile instead of "star"; casa instead of "house"; kuchen instead of "cake", and so on and so on and so on. I could find those necessary words for which there is no equivalent in English. My world would expand according to my ability to describe it.

Indulging in all these wild imaginings has led me to realize that with each passing day Miss M becomes further enslaved by her mother tongue. I see it time and again. She encounters a word, she plays with it on her tongue, and eventually she adopts it with an evolving-to-correct pronunciation. The signified gets nailed to its signifier. Each time this happens her world becomes more concrete yet somehow so much more narrow for it. It's as if all the million possible alternative synonyms die in that moment of her very concrete language acquisition.

Fortunately I do hear sounds of rebellion coming from her, indications that she is willing to take agency and name the world for herself with her own words. Her favourite song right now is "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." For the longest time she believed the word for "star" was "twinkle" and because she could not pronounce "twinkle" she substituted her version, "Wait-da" instead. "Wait-da, wait-da" she sings day and night, particularly on cloudless nights from atop the swing in the park. Her command of the language is much better now and she definitely knows that the proper term for those points of light is "star" but she has consciously decided, in this instance, to name the world her way. Those magical dots in the sky and in the books, those brilliant companions to the "moooon", they simply can't be anything as prosaic as "stars"; no, they can't even be the more mystical étoiles of that other tongue she has heard; no those sparkling diamonds must be "wait-das." It's as if her entire understanding of the cosmos is weighted upon this knowledge of the right and proper word, this perfect marriage of signifier and signified.

Oh, where is this post going? There is so much I want to say about language and the way it brings us freedom because it gives us the power of understanding; about places in the world where being multi-lingual is simply a way of life; about my own regrets at being too poor and insecure to follow through with the Au Pair posting I had lined up in Paris the year after high school only to watch my French-language skills wither and die; about the size of Shakespeare and Joyce's vocabularies; about the dwindling lexicon of high school students today versus fifty years ago; about how my own relationship to words is one of the most powerful and transformative forces in my life; about the fact that I would genuinely like my daughter to learn as many languages as she can so that her world and her mind will be more expansive for it; about how I fear that ticking time-clock of lost aptitude because I also fervently believe these first few years should be entirely about play not structured learning; about the despair of living in a province with separate French, English, and Immersion school systems and a population-base that can support none of them adequately; and about the beauty of being told "I love you" in language and song that exists just beyond my grasp.

My mother's hands

2006-04-18T22:56:00.000-03:00

My mother died in December 1999. At her funeral my aunt, in an effort to comfort me, told me to touch her one last time, not to be afraid of her body now that she was no longer in it. So I did. I went up to the coffin and I touched her hand. I don't know why people use the word "cold" to describe the dead. Mom wasn't cold; she was hard, stiff. In the act of touching her hand I knew that she was gone completely, that I would never have her with me again.

Those hands should not have been stiff. My mother's hands were where she expressed her life. From my earliest memories those hands were on the move. She "worried" them all the time: moving them back and forth, gently wringing them, turning small objects over and over in them. Her favourite worry object was the humble bread tie. When we were kids and she was doing her damnest to raise us on her own, we would snuggle into bed with her and find hard plastic bread ties scattered all over the sheets.

She also had her own way of pointing at objects. Instead of holding her hand like a gun and pointing as most people do, she held her hand flat, parallel to the ground and gestured with a curve to her pointer finger and a curve to her arm. It's hard to describe this action of hers but it was all hers. No one had hands that moved like my mother's.

Until now. My daughter was born with my mother's hands. I noticed it right off when she was still making fists that she constantly stuck in her mouth. At seven weeks, I took her to meet my family and some of my brothers and sisters noticed it as well. Miss M has my mother's hands, their shape, their movements. The pinky finger is curved, almost as if she were missing a knuckle. This biological quirk was detected inutero at 18 weeks gestation. But it's not just the pinky that's curved. There's something about the shape and movement of her hands that is best described as "curvy".

Now that Miss M is eager to expand her vocabulary, she has discovered the utility of pointing. She points at everything, hoping that I will give it a label. And yes, she has my mother's flat-hand, curved-movement, finger-point. I don't know much about who Miss M will be yet but I do know this: her life and her birthright are in her hands.

The Sorting Shelves (for a description of what the Sorting Shelves is all about see the March 15th post)
The Frog Prince and Other Poems by Stevie Smith. Longmans, Green and Co. 1966.