I've almost given up on the idea of posting a reading round-up that actually reflects what I've read so far this year. It works when I do it quarterly. When I get behind, and suddenly discover the year is half-over(!) then the backlog feels overwhelming.
And I don't want to feel overwhelmed about doing something I love to do: talk about books.
So I think I may just dive in with some book notes on my current reading and see where it takes me.
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A couple of weeks ago I read Linda Sue Park's A Single Shard. Have you read anything by Linda Sue Park? If not, may I humbly suggest that you head to your library and find something by this marvelous author as soon as you can?
The first book I ever read by Park was Keeping Score. It's a mid-grade novel about a young girl growing up a fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1950s. It had me from the cover blurb, mostly because I'm from a family of baseball fanatics, and my Dad loved that Dodger team (he was actually offered a try-out with the Brooklyn organization, but had to decline because of back problems...which led him to the hospital...which led him to meet a very lovely nurse...who became my Mom. But I digress.)
As much as I enjoyed Keeping Score, however, I was unprepared for just how much I was going to love A Single Shard. (My dear friend Tara has been telling me for months that I should read this book...oi, I should've listened sooner!) It's set in 12th century Korea and follows the life of Tree-Ear, a young boy who lives under a bridge with a lame and homeless man who goes by the moniker of Crane-Man. Tree-Ear and Crane-Man genuinely love each other. They're family. But Tree-Ear dreams of life beyond the bridge, particularly the life of an artist-potter. How he ends up apprenticed to Min, the best of the local potters, and what happens as a result, is a beautiful story.
And it's beautifully told. Once in a while, you read a book that you can't put down because it feels like a luminous pearl. You hold it in your hand and marvel over its perfection, turning it over and over in your fingers, amazed by the smoothness, the roundness, the evenness of the colors. A Single Shard was that kind of book for me. It had such clarity of vision, and Park never seemed to falter, from first page to last, in telling the story the way it just felt it should be told. I loved it. The link above is to my longer review on Epinions.
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A few days after reading the pearl, I turned to the dandelion. That is, Dandelion Fire, the second book in N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards trilogy. No link yet, because I'm still wrestling with the draft of my review. It's one of those books I find hard to write about, partly because I'm not sure of my own response to it.
If you're a 100 Cupboards fan, maybe you can explain the allure of the series. I find myself feeling grumpy because I think I'm supposed to like the books more than I do. This is, after all, intelligent, coherent, fantasy writing for the mid-grade/young adult crowd. It's written by someone who clearly loves fantasy of all sorts, and who lets fantasy writers like Lewis and Baum sneak all over his narrative and leave their giant footprints. He's also willing to take some pretty giant leaps across the fantasy landscape himself. And yet...
I struggled with the original 100 Cupboards partly because it felt like mostly set-up. I liked Henry York, the main character, and his quirky Aunt, Uncle and cousins who lived in Kansas. I liked the 100 Cupboards lurking in the wall of his attic bedroom, and was intrigued when Henry discovered they were portals to other worlds. Henry seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in that book chipping at the cupboard walls and trying to find a way in. And I kept waiting for the story to really start. When it finally did, it exploded in a few scenes of intense action, set up a cliff-hanger, and poof! ended. Most of the book felt like set-up for what I was expecting would be big pay-off in book two.
And did it get paid off? Well yes, in a big way. In fact, in such a big way that I felt as thought I had whiplash. If the first book could be critiqued for slow pace and not enough action, this one makes up for it in spades. So much happens, and so quickly, that I had a hard time keeping up. Many new characters are introduced. We zoom in and out of worlds that I feel like I barely have time to glimpse. Although I continue to be impressed by Wilson's writing, there's also still something about it that keeps elbowing me in the ribs, like someone trying to push past me in a crowded room. Sometimes I find myself reading a sentence and then reading it again and then trying one more time, and I'm still not sure if I'm visualizing what he's describing.
Granted, I liked Dandelion Fire. I had a hard time putting it down, especially in its second half. I felt compelled to find out what happened to Henry...and also to Henrietta, his cousin...and to his Uncle Frank (my favorite character) and the rest of the family. They get split up early on, so you actually follow those three characters on different arcs/journeys. It's not an easy narrative to keep up with. I'm sure it was a challenge to write.
But it just felt a little ragged. I'm beginning to realize there are at least two kinds of writing styles/sensibilities when it comes to novelists/storytellers. There are the neat and tidy tellers, like Park, where every line feels purposeful, as though it's building toward a beautiful whole you can almost envision as you're seeing it and hearing it built, page by page. And there are the creative but ragged tellers, who seem to craft with great abandon and imagination, who sometimes follow rabbit trails (taking their readers with them) and who eventually get back on track and find themselves providing an ending. But it may not be the ending you expect. It may not be the ending they expect. It may not, in fact, entirely fit with the beginning and the middle, but they had a great time getting there. It's sort of the LOST style of writing, and it tends to leave me a bit breathless, if not fully satisfied.
For me, I think it's Austen vs. Bronte. Process affects and maybe reflects sensibility and style. Cultivated gardens, traditional country dances and two inches of ivory? Or ruined buildings in a pouring rain on a ghost-haunted moor? I love them both, but it's the carefully tended gardens and well-learned dance steps I go back to, the fine-brushed artistry on the tiny canvas that tends to make me gasp. And I suspect that this is the kind of artistry I've aspired to as a story-writer over the years, though I've never really managed it.
Of course (she says cheerfully) I could be all wrong about this. It's possible that someone like Park may have a much looser and intuitive way of composing than I imagine, or that Wilson plans out every single scene before he commits it to paper. I only know what resonates with me mostly deeply at heart levels when I read the results of all their labor.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
And Thus Ends Second Grade...
I almost wrote "not with a bang, but with a whimper..." Except really, it's been a very good last week of school.
I had thought we'd wrap up our school year last week, but the sweet girl has been going strong, especially in math. She wanted to keep going a little longer. And since I felt like we hadn't really had a chance to do a lot of review and wrap-up, I agreed.
It turned out to be a good week for review. It's poured rain -- often! -- and we've had some true humdingers of thunderstorms. S. is terrified of electrical storms at the moment, so even a hint of one makes her want to stay in. And staying in, at least most days, wasn't a bad thing at all this week.
I'm having some slight pangs of "I wish I'd made us keep better notebooks" across the board, especially with our art and music appreciation studies. We essentially didn't notebook for art and music this year, which is fine, except when we got to the end of the year we didn't have that neat little stack of pictures to go through and I missed it. Wait till next year (the mantra of many a baseball fan works for homeschooling parents as well!).
It was fun hearing what the sweet girl especially remembered and enjoyed from her studies. In science, she named our studies of the atmosphere her favorite. In history, she chose Magellan and Queen Elizabeth I as her favorite historical figures. In Language Arts...well, this completely knocked me over, but she told me that this year she especially liked spelling. She liked spelling!! After the spelling debacle that was first grade, I felt like throwing my apron over my head (if I owned one) and yelling "Glory be and the saints be praised!" And she really is becoming a better speller. She's not an intuitive one (and I am, which makes learning to teach it a challenge) but she's getting there.
I was so proud of the leaps in her reading skills this year. She progressed from reading picture books and readers on her own to reading longer chapter books. Though she will always be a picture book girl. Me too.
In math, she told me she especially liked Roman numerals. And she continued to love our daily read-aloud times. Those and math will both continue, albeit in highly relaxed form, as we head into summer.
And here it comes! We've got so much coming up: a visit to my parents in Virginia soon; the sweet girl's 8th birthday with an "under the sea" theme (for which we made the invites today); the beginning of summer camps; VBS planning.
I've been on a writing deadline and have been having major computer problems, but I hope to return you to your regularly scheduled blog posts soon. Happy summer!
I had thought we'd wrap up our school year last week, but the sweet girl has been going strong, especially in math. She wanted to keep going a little longer. And since I felt like we hadn't really had a chance to do a lot of review and wrap-up, I agreed.
It turned out to be a good week for review. It's poured rain -- often! -- and we've had some true humdingers of thunderstorms. S. is terrified of electrical storms at the moment, so even a hint of one makes her want to stay in. And staying in, at least most days, wasn't a bad thing at all this week.
I'm having some slight pangs of "I wish I'd made us keep better notebooks" across the board, especially with our art and music appreciation studies. We essentially didn't notebook for art and music this year, which is fine, except when we got to the end of the year we didn't have that neat little stack of pictures to go through and I missed it. Wait till next year (the mantra of many a baseball fan works for homeschooling parents as well!).
It was fun hearing what the sweet girl especially remembered and enjoyed from her studies. In science, she named our studies of the atmosphere her favorite. In history, she chose Magellan and Queen Elizabeth I as her favorite historical figures. In Language Arts...well, this completely knocked me over, but she told me that this year she especially liked spelling. She liked spelling!! After the spelling debacle that was first grade, I felt like throwing my apron over my head (if I owned one) and yelling "Glory be and the saints be praised!" And she really is becoming a better speller. She's not an intuitive one (and I am, which makes learning to teach it a challenge) but she's getting there.
I was so proud of the leaps in her reading skills this year. She progressed from reading picture books and readers on her own to reading longer chapter books. Though she will always be a picture book girl. Me too.
In math, she told me she especially liked Roman numerals. And she continued to love our daily read-aloud times. Those and math will both continue, albeit in highly relaxed form, as we head into summer.
And here it comes! We've got so much coming up: a visit to my parents in Virginia soon; the sweet girl's 8th birthday with an "under the sea" theme (for which we made the invites today); the beginning of summer camps; VBS planning.
I've been on a writing deadline and have been having major computer problems, but I hope to return you to your regularly scheduled blog posts soon. Happy summer!
Friday, June 04, 2010
What Would Your Childhood Memories "B"?
Years ago, my husband and I instituted a late-night word-association game. We tend to play it more during certain seasons of our life together, when one or both of us is having a hard time getting to sleep. (The sacrificial love comes in when one of us is exhausted enough to be dropping off but the other is having a hard time sleeping, so the sleepy one wakes up enough to enter into the game...thus often waking up more fully than the other one!)
It's an "easy-peasy" kind of game, as my seven year old would likely tell you -- we play a version of it with her before she goes to bed sometimes too. We pick a letter of the alphabet and a category, and try to think of things that fit the category that begin with that letter. We've tried all kinds of categories over the years, from food to books to movies to intangibles to adjectives...and on and on. We've instituted a few basic guidelines along the way, especially in the categories we tend to play a lot, like movies. In that case, we always count first names for characters and last names for directors/actors. For example, if we were playing "H" in the movie category, we could say both Hagrid and Harry Potter, but we couldn't say Helena Bonham-Carter: she'd come under "B."
My husband is great at coming up with new, creative categories. The most recent one he suggested was "childhood." We decided it could mean any sort of association with childhood, but as you might expect, it's turned out to be more specific to our own childhoods/youth. Last night we were doing the letter "B" and we ended up laughing a lot over some our associations. Here are just a few:
bubbles; balls; books; banana popsicles; Batman; Barbie; Bazooka bubble gum; Bonanza; Brady Bunch; Bee-Gees; Betsy-Tacy; Benji; bicyles; baseball games
There were lots more (including a lot I don't remember because they came in that hazy, blurred horizon between awake-asleep) but that gives you a flavor of the game. It might even give you a flavor of when we grew up ~ albeit several years apart!
So what would some of your childhood memories/associations "B"?
It's an "easy-peasy" kind of game, as my seven year old would likely tell you -- we play a version of it with her before she goes to bed sometimes too. We pick a letter of the alphabet and a category, and try to think of things that fit the category that begin with that letter. We've tried all kinds of categories over the years, from food to books to movies to intangibles to adjectives...and on and on. We've instituted a few basic guidelines along the way, especially in the categories we tend to play a lot, like movies. In that case, we always count first names for characters and last names for directors/actors. For example, if we were playing "H" in the movie category, we could say both Hagrid and Harry Potter, but we couldn't say Helena Bonham-Carter: she'd come under "B."
My husband is great at coming up with new, creative categories. The most recent one he suggested was "childhood." We decided it could mean any sort of association with childhood, but as you might expect, it's turned out to be more specific to our own childhoods/youth. Last night we were doing the letter "B" and we ended up laughing a lot over some our associations. Here are just a few:
bubbles; balls; books; banana popsicles; Batman; Barbie; Bazooka bubble gum; Bonanza; Brady Bunch; Bee-Gees; Betsy-Tacy; Benji; bicyles; baseball games
There were lots more (including a lot I don't remember because they came in that hazy, blurred horizon between awake-asleep) but that gives you a flavor of the game. It might even give you a flavor of when we grew up ~ albeit several years apart!
So what would some of your childhood memories/associations "B"?
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
A Good Dose of Laughter
Today was just one of those days. Yep. Just one of those days. (And that's all I'm gonna say about that...)
When I have a day like this one, I sometimes just need some laughter. So I asked my husband if we could read for a while.
Just a few nights ago, we started reading Gary Schmidt's The Wednesday Wars. Actually I've read it before, but as is the case with many books I truly love, I eventually get around to reading it aloud to my dear D. I remembered it was funny, but I had forgotten just how funny: laugh-aloud, sometimes too choked up to read kind of funny, at least in parts.
If you haven't read this Newbery Honor winning book, I highly recommend it. In fact, I recommend it so much that I'm going to do something I rarely do, and quote from my own review, which I penned back in 2008:
"Holling Hoodhood is pretty sure that seventh grade is not going to be a banner year for him. That's because he's convinced from Day One that his teacher, Mrs. Baker, must hate him.
Every Wednesday, half of his class heads to Hebrew School while the other half heads to Catechism Class. But Holling, the only Presbyterian in a sea of Jewish and Catholic classmates, has no where to go. That means that Mrs. Baker must keep him in her classroom, a time-wasting prospect that both of them look forward to with gritted teeth.
But after Holling has cleaned every eraser in Camillo Junior High...and after he has accidentally let escape the class's pet rats while cleaning their cages...Mrs. Baker (perhaps a bit unnerved by the escape of the rodents) hits upon the perfect solution.
Holling is going to read Shakespeare. Every Wednesday. Sometimes with Mrs. Baker. And she is going to quiz him about it, to make sure he has done the reading and to make sure that he understands it. Until he's read a few plays and showed his mettle, at which point she begins to make him write full-blown essays.
Did I mention that seventh grade is not turning out to be a banner year for Holling?"
I hope that little intro might make you want to read the rest of the review, but most of all I hope it makes you want to read the book. Especially if you need a dose of laughter too.
When I have a day like this one, I sometimes just need some laughter. So I asked my husband if we could read for a while.
Just a few nights ago, we started reading Gary Schmidt's The Wednesday Wars. Actually I've read it before, but as is the case with many books I truly love, I eventually get around to reading it aloud to my dear D. I remembered it was funny, but I had forgotten just how funny: laugh-aloud, sometimes too choked up to read kind of funny, at least in parts.
If you haven't read this Newbery Honor winning book, I highly recommend it. In fact, I recommend it so much that I'm going to do something I rarely do, and quote from my own review, which I penned back in 2008:
"Holling Hoodhood is pretty sure that seventh grade is not going to be a banner year for him. That's because he's convinced from Day One that his teacher, Mrs. Baker, must hate him.
Every Wednesday, half of his class heads to Hebrew School while the other half heads to Catechism Class. But Holling, the only Presbyterian in a sea of Jewish and Catholic classmates, has no where to go. That means that Mrs. Baker must keep him in her classroom, a time-wasting prospect that both of them look forward to with gritted teeth.
But after Holling has cleaned every eraser in Camillo Junior High...and after he has accidentally let escape the class's pet rats while cleaning their cages...Mrs. Baker (perhaps a bit unnerved by the escape of the rodents) hits upon the perfect solution.
Holling is going to read Shakespeare. Every Wednesday. Sometimes with Mrs. Baker. And she is going to quiz him about it, to make sure he has done the reading and to make sure that he understands it. Until he's read a few plays and showed his mettle, at which point she begins to make him write full-blown essays.
Did I mention that seventh grade is not turning out to be a banner year for Holling?"
I hope that little intro might make you want to read the rest of the review, but most of all I hope it makes you want to read the book. Especially if you need a dose of laughter too.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Laps Around the Track
I keep having these good ideas about finishing one project before I dive in on another one. I know, I know...life doesn't usually work that way, but I find myself wishing it was that tidy! I keep thinking how nice it would be if I could finish one lap before the next one started. Instead, I often feel like there are three or four of me running around the track at the same time (waving to myself as I pass by...yes, I've definitely been pondering LOST too much this week).
My goals over the last couple of weeks seemed simple enough. I was going to finish reading and responding to seminary student papers and submit my grades. THEN I was going to spend a few days doing all the paperwork for the school district and for the sweet girl's insurance renewal. (Read: I'm a PA homeschooler with a kid heading for the magic number of 8 years old; and I'm a thankful recipient of state assistance for my child's health care but that means every year I have to prove again just how poor we are so we requalify.) So yes, this paperwork is all necessary and important, but it's still officially paperwork, with all the attendant drudgery of gathering and filling out forms. THEN I was going to do wrap-up notes for our grammar 2 year, for my own evaluation purposes. And THEN I was going to do some work on writing projects and start hunting for more writing and editing work. And THEN I was going to figure out precisely what I need to order, curriculum-wise, for grammar 3 and how we were going to pay for it. And THEN I was going to start planning the sweet girl's birthday party. And THEN...
Okay, you get my drift. It's all the "and THEN's" that are turning out to be impossible, because I can't seem to sustain enough time or momentum on one project before I have to go on to at least part of another one. Some of this is due to the fact that more projects keep coming up. First there's all the daily ongoing stuff of life (housework, cooking, schooling)! But there have also been ministry commitments: finishing up Alpha, coordinating the missions prayer stations for our church's Pentecost service, pulling together the monthly church newsletter. I had to try to re-find my review reading and writing rhythm at Epinions, since my income share has been down. I also decided it was worth the effort to try to submit a guide to Shopping.com (Epinions' sister site) in an effort to try to win some more cash that will help us buy said curriculum. And given my love of planning a new school year, I've done a bit of diving into that already.
We're also trying to plan another trip to see my folks. Dad is stable but not strong. He has another echocardiogram scheduled for tomorrow. And continuing to process all the emotions about his illness is taking inner time (again important and necessary, but not anything I foresaw going into this month).
We also realized we were long overdue getting out our family's regularly (supposed to be quarterly) prayer and support letter, something we feel is very important. So I spent much of the last week working on that and the church newsletter, with the end result being that it's Memorial Day and I've yet to submit all my grades. I'm really hoping to finish those up tonight!
And THEN... :-) I need to dive headfirst into the insurance renewal papers, since the deadline is fast approaching. If I can get through those things, and make at least a decent start on the homeschool paperwork, I will consider this week a completed lap.
For at least one of me...
My goals over the last couple of weeks seemed simple enough. I was going to finish reading and responding to seminary student papers and submit my grades. THEN I was going to spend a few days doing all the paperwork for the school district and for the sweet girl's insurance renewal. (Read: I'm a PA homeschooler with a kid heading for the magic number of 8 years old; and I'm a thankful recipient of state assistance for my child's health care but that means every year I have to prove again just how poor we are so we requalify.) So yes, this paperwork is all necessary and important, but it's still officially paperwork, with all the attendant drudgery of gathering and filling out forms. THEN I was going to do wrap-up notes for our grammar 2 year, for my own evaluation purposes. And THEN I was going to do some work on writing projects and start hunting for more writing and editing work. And THEN I was going to figure out precisely what I need to order, curriculum-wise, for grammar 3 and how we were going to pay for it. And THEN I was going to start planning the sweet girl's birthday party. And THEN...
Okay, you get my drift. It's all the "and THEN's" that are turning out to be impossible, because I can't seem to sustain enough time or momentum on one project before I have to go on to at least part of another one. Some of this is due to the fact that more projects keep coming up. First there's all the daily ongoing stuff of life (housework, cooking, schooling)! But there have also been ministry commitments: finishing up Alpha, coordinating the missions prayer stations for our church's Pentecost service, pulling together the monthly church newsletter. I had to try to re-find my review reading and writing rhythm at Epinions, since my income share has been down. I also decided it was worth the effort to try to submit a guide to Shopping.com (Epinions' sister site) in an effort to try to win some more cash that will help us buy said curriculum. And given my love of planning a new school year, I've done a bit of diving into that already.
We're also trying to plan another trip to see my folks. Dad is stable but not strong. He has another echocardiogram scheduled for tomorrow. And continuing to process all the emotions about his illness is taking inner time (again important and necessary, but not anything I foresaw going into this month).
We also realized we were long overdue getting out our family's regularly (supposed to be quarterly) prayer and support letter, something we feel is very important. So I spent much of the last week working on that and the church newsletter, with the end result being that it's Memorial Day and I've yet to submit all my grades. I'm really hoping to finish those up tonight!
And THEN... :-) I need to dive headfirst into the insurance renewal papers, since the deadline is fast approaching. If I can get through those things, and make at least a decent start on the homeschool paperwork, I will consider this week a completed lap.
For at least one of me...
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Wilder Land
We've been languishing a bit in read-aloud time recently. After the sublime heights of The Magician's Nephew, we came down with a prosaic thud. I let the sweet girl choose our last book, and she went with one of the Boxcar Children sequels.
Now I don't mind the Boxcar Children on principle, and even thought the first one was a pretty good story. I also think kids should be able to indulge in a little light pulp reading now and again, just like grown-ups. But as read-alouds the sequels are mind-numbingly boring. Benny and Henry are particularly grating on my nerves; I begin to have sympathy for readers who found Bobby Belden's character so thoroughly annoying. Puh-leeze (as Bobby would say) let these kids grow up!
But today we moved back into literary territory, brighter and wilder terrain. Literally Wilder terrain: we're up to the fifth book in the Little House series with By the Shores of Silver Lake.
And I'd forgotten what a whammy those first two chapters give us. A couple of years or so have passed for Laura and family, still living on Plum Creek in these opening pages. Pa has that wild glint in his eye which can only mean one thing: time to pack the wagon and head west again! The family has weathered scarlet fever and Mary is now blind, a sad and sobering fact that seemed to hit the sweet girl hard. We talked a bit about how Laura "became Mary's eyes" (as the story tells us) and how that might be one reason why she grew up to be such a fine writer of description.
And then came the death of Jack. Dear old Jack, the family bull-dog, the one who has stood by Laura and the rest of the Ingalls through wolves and fires and grasshoppers and who knows what all else. I always forget this is coming, and I always have the hardest time in the world reading the description of Jack's last hours over the lump in my throat. How poignant that he lay down and died on the night before the wagon was to pull out and head west again, after all the many miles he walked.
When it comes to read-alouds, I like being back in Wilder Land. Even when it makes me cry.
Now I don't mind the Boxcar Children on principle, and even thought the first one was a pretty good story. I also think kids should be able to indulge in a little light pulp reading now and again, just like grown-ups. But as read-alouds the sequels are mind-numbingly boring. Benny and Henry are particularly grating on my nerves; I begin to have sympathy for readers who found Bobby Belden's character so thoroughly annoying. Puh-leeze (as Bobby would say) let these kids grow up!
But today we moved back into literary territory, brighter and wilder terrain. Literally Wilder terrain: we're up to the fifth book in the Little House series with By the Shores of Silver Lake.
And I'd forgotten what a whammy those first two chapters give us. A couple of years or so have passed for Laura and family, still living on Plum Creek in these opening pages. Pa has that wild glint in his eye which can only mean one thing: time to pack the wagon and head west again! The family has weathered scarlet fever and Mary is now blind, a sad and sobering fact that seemed to hit the sweet girl hard. We talked a bit about how Laura "became Mary's eyes" (as the story tells us) and how that might be one reason why she grew up to be such a fine writer of description.
And then came the death of Jack. Dear old Jack, the family bull-dog, the one who has stood by Laura and the rest of the Ingalls through wolves and fires and grasshoppers and who knows what all else. I always forget this is coming, and I always have the hardest time in the world reading the description of Jack's last hours over the lump in my throat. How poignant that he lay down and died on the night before the wagon was to pull out and head west again, after all the many miles he walked.
When it comes to read-alouds, I like being back in Wilder Land. Even when it makes me cry.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Pentecost Sunday
"When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance."
~Acts 2:1-4 (ESV)
The whole passage from Acts 2 is such an exciting one. As our preacher said this morning, upon reading the next part when the people gathered together all hear the Gospel preached in their own native languages, "Wow." And then he repeated "wow," and again "wow." Yes.
We are so blessed to be loved by a God who loves all people everywhere, loves them so much that he longs for them to hear and know him, loves them enough to speak his Word to them in the languages of their hearts.
Isn't the incarnation itself about God finding a way to speak to us in a language and a way we could understand?
And today was a blessed day at church as we celebrated this story and the ongoing story of God's love for the world.
We processed around to prayer stations for each of the six countries where we support missionaries or where we focus our prayers for the persecuted church. We prayed for Brazil, Mexico, Uganda, Nigeria, Belize, and the United States. (And I was blessed, as missions committee chair, to have put together the prayer stations). And after church, my dear husband got to make a presentation about the new Catechesis/Mentoring program for young people in our parish, into which he's been pouring so much of his his heart and soul lately.
Indeed a day to celebrate. And a day to be grateful for the life of the Holy Spirit poured out in our hearts.
~Acts 2:1-4 (ESV)
The whole passage from Acts 2 is such an exciting one. As our preacher said this morning, upon reading the next part when the people gathered together all hear the Gospel preached in their own native languages, "Wow." And then he repeated "wow," and again "wow." Yes.
We are so blessed to be loved by a God who loves all people everywhere, loves them so much that he longs for them to hear and know him, loves them enough to speak his Word to them in the languages of their hearts.
Isn't the incarnation itself about God finding a way to speak to us in a language and a way we could understand?
And today was a blessed day at church as we celebrated this story and the ongoing story of God's love for the world.
We processed around to prayer stations for each of the six countries where we support missionaries or where we focus our prayers for the persecuted church. We prayed for Brazil, Mexico, Uganda, Nigeria, Belize, and the United States. (And I was blessed, as missions committee chair, to have put together the prayer stations). And after church, my dear husband got to make a presentation about the new Catechesis/Mentoring program for young people in our parish, into which he's been pouring so much of his his heart and soul lately.
Indeed a day to celebrate. And a day to be grateful for the life of the Holy Spirit poured out in our hearts.
LOST in Thought...One More Time
Since my husband and I watch LOST episodes a couple of days behind the rest of the world (you could say we’re untethered from time!) I always feel behind the curve posting my thoughts and reflections. By the time I can get anything up, much wiser and creative minds than mine have already weighed in. And yet… it’s so much fun. I’ve so enjoyed thinking and conversing about this show, I can’t quite resist the opportunity to put my thoughts down one last time before we reach tomorrow night’s finale.
And yes, we will miss it, not watching it until probably around Tuesday night. I am pretty sure I am putting myself on a media blackout until then, including not checking Facebook (I know too many of our friends will post status updates with their reactions). It’s not unlike what I did when Deathly Hallows was published. I basically went offline the day before the book came out, taking special care to avoid any HP related websites for even longer beforehand, and I didn’t go back on until I’d finished the book. Once again, I find myself not wanting to be spoiled in any way.
D. and I keep talking about what we think will happen, what we hope will happen, what might happen. We’ve actually compiled a list of things we think the show’s writers need to do. We split the page in two, making separate lists for what needs to happen in Sideways world and what needs to happen in Island world. When you put the lists together, it all comes to about three dozen items, which sounds like a lot. But they do have a couple of hours (feature film length!) and we’ve agreed that some of these things don’t need to be given a whole lot of time, but could be hinted at. In fact, we figure some of them will need to be given that sort of treatment, given what’s left to accomplish to bring this amazing and convoluted story to a satisfying conclusion.
D. keeps joking that the writers have a dream assignment – they get to kill lots of characters off in heroic battle, and yet they also get to write them their happy ending (in sideways reality). I think he’s on to something there. Although most of my energy at this point is moving toward mining this story for grace moments and character transformation (and has been tending that way for a long time…see my earlier LOST posts) I do find myself still really intrigued by the whole conceit that has made this last season so interesting, the two branches of reality.
And that’s what I’m seeing them as right now – two branches, one tree (or river, whatever metaphor works best for you). The Jughead moment at the end of last season was far more crucial than ever we realized. “It worked” said Juliet, from the grave, and that’s a pretty amazing thing for them to have told us right off the bat. Our castaways, those who heard that news, couldn’t comprehend it. How could it “have worked” and yet “not worked” at the same time? For obviously there they were, still on island, still struggling with the same old stuff. I still don’t understand it myself, but the way I look at it now, when Juliet (the true heroine of this epic in many ways) detonated the bomb, the explosion seemed to accomplish the splitting of reality. Remember that our castaways were actually fugitives in a time in which they did not belong. So the explosion, on the one hand, jarred them from one record groove to another (to use yet another Daniel Faraday expression) and at the same time, shut down the 1970s reality and changed that timeline from that time forward, so that their plane accident never happened. Reality, for these people, moved in two directions, and we’re going to see those directions meet back up and merge.
But first there’s the matter of unfinished island business. I think one reason that my hubby and I feel confident the writers can pull off most of what they need to in the short time left is that really only two big things need to be accomplished (though in bits and pieces) in the two realities. I looked back over our lists and realized what they each boiled down to. In Island reality, we need to see a victory over Smokey. In Sideways world, we need to see resolution – major resolution within characters (as they become Island enlightened, their current stories merging with the stories/relationships/wisdom gained in their Island reality) and between characters. In fact, almost our whole Sideways list had to do with characters resolving relationships, or at least us being given glimpses that such resolution was on the way.
The victory over Smokey will not come without great cost. Desmond the “fail-safe” is going to be key (pun intended) as I think we all agree. But I think what will turn the tide for the side of right is the willingness of the characters to do whatever they need to in this battle. Choice has always been a big LOST theme, and it’s been shining like a lighthouse beacon lately.
Can I tell you how proud I was of Jack when he stepped up and said “I’ll do it” when Jacob finally came square on what he was asking the candidates to consider? My friend Erin talked about what a wonderful Frodo moment that was, and I loved that comparison, since I’m pretty sure Frodo’s “I will take the ring” would figure into one of my top ten most loved story moments of all time. And I certainly see the comparison. (I also liked her idea that the cave of light is going to be our “Mt. Doom.” Who might be our Gollum, hmm?)
But for me, Jack is so Harry right now. I think it’s partly because both Rowling and LOST are working out of post-modern frameworks, though Rowling’s single-author epic vision seems a lot more cohesive and thankfully a lot less monistic. But consider if you will, with your spello-taped Harry glasses on:
--Jack’s willingness to step up and meet his destiny, even though he has no clue if he’ll survive (and probably doubts he will)
--Jack’s growth from loner guy with a “saving people thing” complex to a man who understands his need for community and family
--Jack’s struggle to have faith, especially when not given complete (or fully honest) information from a mentor figure who has, at times, infuriatingly kept his distance
--Jack’s anger at Jacob for not telling him what Jack thought he needed to know and when (remember the Lighthouse smashup? That immediately called to mind Harry in Dumbledore’s office)
--Jack’s mentor being a wise and powerful yet flawed and broken man who has spent years trying to make up for past mistakes, hoping and praying he’ll find someone who will be the “better man” and be able to do what he can’t
--Jack’s walking away from “ordinary” love and life (in the Oceanic Six storyline, when he sabotaged the good relationship he had going with Kate) and realizing he has a destiny
--Jack constantly being looked to as the leader, and yet powerless in some situations and having to watch the people he loves die
Like Harry, I think Jack is going to have to be willing to sacrifice himself. My husband thinks that the cut on his neck – the one we’ve seen getting worse in Sideways world all season, the one Sideways-Jack doesn’t seem to have a clue about? – is the mark of the fatal wound he’ll receive from the ceremonial knife. He’s the island protector now, and that seems to be the only way a guardian of the island can die.
I think Jack will die, but like Harry, there’s protection in place, a safeguard, something that “tethers him to life” (to use the Rowling phrase) and in this case, it’s the reboot, along with the willingness of the other castaways to do what they need to do, especially Desmond.
In case you can’t tell, I’m loving that there’s not just one hero in this piece. The more we unpack what’s been going on, the more we’re “enlightened” as to the overall story, the more we see how crucial so many people’s actions have been. Jack and Desmond are our key players now (not surprising we lingered so long over their meeting, is it?) but so many others have played crucial roles. Juliet and Daniel, yes, but others too. Sayid, who gave the castaways one more day with his heroism. Ben, broken as they come, and yet I still think deep-down on the side of right, and conning Smokey right up to the finish. Even Kate, whom I know has not gotten a lot of fan-love, has been there at crucial times. Let’s not forget she saved Ben’s life in one reality. I’m also thinking especially of the many times she has been there when Jack, needing reassurance that whatever crazy thing he was about to do was the right thing (or at least that he wasn’t alone in doing it, even if it wasn’t) turned to her. How many times did Kate say “I’m with you,” or “I’ve always been with you” right at the crucial moment, looking him right in the eyes? I can’t help but want them to be soul-mates in the end, mostly because of that.
Oh and John Locke. Beautiful, real John Locke, flawed and lovable. John who wasn’t right about everything, who got played by the Smoke Monster (who seems to thrive on holding people in his thrall – I do so hope that in defeating him, the tortured soul of MIB, used all these years, will finally be able to rest in peace) but John who was right about more than anyone might have guessed. While it’s true that John’s own destiny was not as he wished, and that he made a lot of mistakes based on listening to the wrong voices, John’s simple and unwavering trust that life must have meaning and purpose (despite all evidence in his own life to the contrary) was a huge witness to Jack. It’s what got Jack back to the island, when all was said and done. And if Jack hadn’t gone back – no reboot, no Sideways world, no final battle with Smokey. So John too had his role to play, and I’m so glad that in Sideways world he and Jack can finally like and respect each other, and Jack can do something beautiful to help John heal.
I think it will be fascinating, when this whole story is over (except for the conversations!) to look back over the epic and pull out central pieces. In other words, to look back over the story and ask ourselves, what would it have been like if ______ had not been part of the story. Fill in the blank with the character of your choice! I think we will discover just how important they each were in the unfolding of events.
Ah…so much more I could say. So many questions I still have about the theological ramifications of all this (particularly pertaining to fate and free will and providence) and so many questions about how all this might play out. I find myself curious to know (and a bit worried) about the protection extended to the candidates. Does it vanish when Jacob does? Of course, if Jack gets to make? inherit but bend? the rules now, then I think it’s likely all his friends are still safe, because he’ll do anything to protect them. Yes, I know…I love Jack and it shows. I always have, and I’ve always resonated most profoundly with his struggles and journey, so I’m glad this has turned out to be more his story than anyone else’s – perhaps not too surprising given that our opening moments were literally seen through his opening eyes. (Has this whole story been about Jack’s eyes opening? I think I read that somewhere, and I love the thought.)
I am hoping that Jack will be like Harry in one other profound way too – that he will get his chance at ordinary life and love.
I’ll stop for now. And like I said, I’ll be tuning out a bit until I’m able to tune back in (hopefully unspoiled) a couple of days after the finale.
See you in another life, brotha.
And yes, we will miss it, not watching it until probably around Tuesday night. I am pretty sure I am putting myself on a media blackout until then, including not checking Facebook (I know too many of our friends will post status updates with their reactions). It’s not unlike what I did when Deathly Hallows was published. I basically went offline the day before the book came out, taking special care to avoid any HP related websites for even longer beforehand, and I didn’t go back on until I’d finished the book. Once again, I find myself not wanting to be spoiled in any way.
D. and I keep talking about what we think will happen, what we hope will happen, what might happen. We’ve actually compiled a list of things we think the show’s writers need to do. We split the page in two, making separate lists for what needs to happen in Sideways world and what needs to happen in Island world. When you put the lists together, it all comes to about three dozen items, which sounds like a lot. But they do have a couple of hours (feature film length!) and we’ve agreed that some of these things don’t need to be given a whole lot of time, but could be hinted at. In fact, we figure some of them will need to be given that sort of treatment, given what’s left to accomplish to bring this amazing and convoluted story to a satisfying conclusion.
D. keeps joking that the writers have a dream assignment – they get to kill lots of characters off in heroic battle, and yet they also get to write them their happy ending (in sideways reality). I think he’s on to something there. Although most of my energy at this point is moving toward mining this story for grace moments and character transformation (and has been tending that way for a long time…see my earlier LOST posts) I do find myself still really intrigued by the whole conceit that has made this last season so interesting, the two branches of reality.
And that’s what I’m seeing them as right now – two branches, one tree (or river, whatever metaphor works best for you). The Jughead moment at the end of last season was far more crucial than ever we realized. “It worked” said Juliet, from the grave, and that’s a pretty amazing thing for them to have told us right off the bat. Our castaways, those who heard that news, couldn’t comprehend it. How could it “have worked” and yet “not worked” at the same time? For obviously there they were, still on island, still struggling with the same old stuff. I still don’t understand it myself, but the way I look at it now, when Juliet (the true heroine of this epic in many ways) detonated the bomb, the explosion seemed to accomplish the splitting of reality. Remember that our castaways were actually fugitives in a time in which they did not belong. So the explosion, on the one hand, jarred them from one record groove to another (to use yet another Daniel Faraday expression) and at the same time, shut down the 1970s reality and changed that timeline from that time forward, so that their plane accident never happened. Reality, for these people, moved in two directions, and we’re going to see those directions meet back up and merge.
But first there’s the matter of unfinished island business. I think one reason that my hubby and I feel confident the writers can pull off most of what they need to in the short time left is that really only two big things need to be accomplished (though in bits and pieces) in the two realities. I looked back over our lists and realized what they each boiled down to. In Island reality, we need to see a victory over Smokey. In Sideways world, we need to see resolution – major resolution within characters (as they become Island enlightened, their current stories merging with the stories/relationships/wisdom gained in their Island reality) and between characters. In fact, almost our whole Sideways list had to do with characters resolving relationships, or at least us being given glimpses that such resolution was on the way.
The victory over Smokey will not come without great cost. Desmond the “fail-safe” is going to be key (pun intended) as I think we all agree. But I think what will turn the tide for the side of right is the willingness of the characters to do whatever they need to in this battle. Choice has always been a big LOST theme, and it’s been shining like a lighthouse beacon lately.
Can I tell you how proud I was of Jack when he stepped up and said “I’ll do it” when Jacob finally came square on what he was asking the candidates to consider? My friend Erin talked about what a wonderful Frodo moment that was, and I loved that comparison, since I’m pretty sure Frodo’s “I will take the ring” would figure into one of my top ten most loved story moments of all time. And I certainly see the comparison. (I also liked her idea that the cave of light is going to be our “Mt. Doom.” Who might be our Gollum, hmm?)
But for me, Jack is so Harry right now. I think it’s partly because both Rowling and LOST are working out of post-modern frameworks, though Rowling’s single-author epic vision seems a lot more cohesive and thankfully a lot less monistic. But consider if you will, with your spello-taped Harry glasses on:
--Jack’s willingness to step up and meet his destiny, even though he has no clue if he’ll survive (and probably doubts he will)
--Jack’s growth from loner guy with a “saving people thing” complex to a man who understands his need for community and family
--Jack’s struggle to have faith, especially when not given complete (or fully honest) information from a mentor figure who has, at times, infuriatingly kept his distance
--Jack’s anger at Jacob for not telling him what Jack thought he needed to know and when (remember the Lighthouse smashup? That immediately called to mind Harry in Dumbledore’s office)
--Jack’s mentor being a wise and powerful yet flawed and broken man who has spent years trying to make up for past mistakes, hoping and praying he’ll find someone who will be the “better man” and be able to do what he can’t
--Jack’s walking away from “ordinary” love and life (in the Oceanic Six storyline, when he sabotaged the good relationship he had going with Kate) and realizing he has a destiny
--Jack constantly being looked to as the leader, and yet powerless in some situations and having to watch the people he loves die
Like Harry, I think Jack is going to have to be willing to sacrifice himself. My husband thinks that the cut on his neck – the one we’ve seen getting worse in Sideways world all season, the one Sideways-Jack doesn’t seem to have a clue about? – is the mark of the fatal wound he’ll receive from the ceremonial knife. He’s the island protector now, and that seems to be the only way a guardian of the island can die.
I think Jack will die, but like Harry, there’s protection in place, a safeguard, something that “tethers him to life” (to use the Rowling phrase) and in this case, it’s the reboot, along with the willingness of the other castaways to do what they need to do, especially Desmond.
In case you can’t tell, I’m loving that there’s not just one hero in this piece. The more we unpack what’s been going on, the more we’re “enlightened” as to the overall story, the more we see how crucial so many people’s actions have been. Jack and Desmond are our key players now (not surprising we lingered so long over their meeting, is it?) but so many others have played crucial roles. Juliet and Daniel, yes, but others too. Sayid, who gave the castaways one more day with his heroism. Ben, broken as they come, and yet I still think deep-down on the side of right, and conning Smokey right up to the finish. Even Kate, whom I know has not gotten a lot of fan-love, has been there at crucial times. Let’s not forget she saved Ben’s life in one reality. I’m also thinking especially of the many times she has been there when Jack, needing reassurance that whatever crazy thing he was about to do was the right thing (or at least that he wasn’t alone in doing it, even if it wasn’t) turned to her. How many times did Kate say “I’m with you,” or “I’ve always been with you” right at the crucial moment, looking him right in the eyes? I can’t help but want them to be soul-mates in the end, mostly because of that.
Oh and John Locke. Beautiful, real John Locke, flawed and lovable. John who wasn’t right about everything, who got played by the Smoke Monster (who seems to thrive on holding people in his thrall – I do so hope that in defeating him, the tortured soul of MIB, used all these years, will finally be able to rest in peace) but John who was right about more than anyone might have guessed. While it’s true that John’s own destiny was not as he wished, and that he made a lot of mistakes based on listening to the wrong voices, John’s simple and unwavering trust that life must have meaning and purpose (despite all evidence in his own life to the contrary) was a huge witness to Jack. It’s what got Jack back to the island, when all was said and done. And if Jack hadn’t gone back – no reboot, no Sideways world, no final battle with Smokey. So John too had his role to play, and I’m so glad that in Sideways world he and Jack can finally like and respect each other, and Jack can do something beautiful to help John heal.
I think it will be fascinating, when this whole story is over (except for the conversations!) to look back over the epic and pull out central pieces. In other words, to look back over the story and ask ourselves, what would it have been like if ______ had not been part of the story. Fill in the blank with the character of your choice! I think we will discover just how important they each were in the unfolding of events.
Ah…so much more I could say. So many questions I still have about the theological ramifications of all this (particularly pertaining to fate and free will and providence) and so many questions about how all this might play out. I find myself curious to know (and a bit worried) about the protection extended to the candidates. Does it vanish when Jacob does? Of course, if Jack gets to make? inherit but bend? the rules now, then I think it’s likely all his friends are still safe, because he’ll do anything to protect them. Yes, I know…I love Jack and it shows. I always have, and I’ve always resonated most profoundly with his struggles and journey, so I’m glad this has turned out to be more his story than anyone else’s – perhaps not too surprising given that our opening moments were literally seen through his opening eyes. (Has this whole story been about Jack’s eyes opening? I think I read that somewhere, and I love the thought.)
I am hoping that Jack will be like Harry in one other profound way too – that he will get his chance at ordinary life and love.
I’ll stop for now. And like I said, I’ll be tuning out a bit until I’m able to tune back in (hopefully unspoiled) a couple of days after the finale.
See you in another life, brotha.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pachunga
With everything that's been happening in my extended family of late, plus just one of the busiest few weeks I can remember, I've fallen out of my regular blogging rhythm. I'm hoping to remedy that beginning now.
One of the most overdue of my posts (and I've got more in the pipeline) is the exciting news that Pachunga has been published. What is Pachunga? Glad you asked! It's a mid-grade Christian fantasy-adventure novel written by my friend and seminary colleague John MacDonald. A true labor of love, John has been working on this novel for many years -- it had its genesis back in the 1980s when he was teaching a class of sixth graders. He was finally able to bring it to fruition/completion, and it was published via iUniverse just a few weeks ago.
My involvement with Pachunga came late but was a happy one. Beginning last December, I was able to work with John in the final stages to help edit the book. That included copy-editing but also some development/story editing, an experience I thoroughly enjoyed, and one I'd love to repeat.
Pachunga is an interesting tale set in an African landscape. Readers 9-12 will especially enjoy it. John plows some familiar ground -- the Lewisian echoes are quite strong in places -- but he puts his own special spin on things, especially drawing on his cross-cultural experience. I especially like the ways he was able to make this as much (or more) an inner adventure as an outer one...the most important journeys are the heart journeys of the characters, especially Pachunga himself. You can read my review of the book on Amazon. I especially think Pachunga could be a welcome addition to the bookshelves of homeschooling families!
One of the most overdue of my posts (and I've got more in the pipeline) is the exciting news that Pachunga has been published. What is Pachunga? Glad you asked! It's a mid-grade Christian fantasy-adventure novel written by my friend and seminary colleague John MacDonald. A true labor of love, John has been working on this novel for many years -- it had its genesis back in the 1980s when he was teaching a class of sixth graders. He was finally able to bring it to fruition/completion, and it was published via iUniverse just a few weeks ago.
My involvement with Pachunga came late but was a happy one. Beginning last December, I was able to work with John in the final stages to help edit the book. That included copy-editing but also some development/story editing, an experience I thoroughly enjoyed, and one I'd love to repeat.
Pachunga is an interesting tale set in an African landscape. Readers 9-12 will especially enjoy it. John plows some familiar ground -- the Lewisian echoes are quite strong in places -- but he puts his own special spin on things, especially drawing on his cross-cultural experience. I especially like the ways he was able to make this as much (or more) an inner adventure as an outer one...the most important journeys are the heart journeys of the characters, especially Pachunga himself. You can read my review of the book on Amazon. I especially think Pachunga could be a welcome addition to the bookshelves of homeschooling families!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Perfect Timing (& and a Patchwork Post)
It's been a busy, tiring week: end of semester work (all those papers coming in for me to read! did I really assign them all?!); back to regular homeschooling days; planning a special mission-themed prayer service for our church for Pentecost; never-ending housecleaning; trying to re-find my writing rhythm. And of course, continuing to follow my mother's daily email updates on dad, and keeping him and my mother in prayers, even as I try to assimilate my own feelings and concerns about dad's illness.
I was so tired this morning that I told the sweet girl we were sleeping in. We do "relaxed Fridays" in our homeschool anyway, with a focus on art, music and poetry each week. We usually have our homeschool group meetings on Friday afternoon, but we're winding up the year and took the day off (many of the folks involved are seminarians, and it's graduation weekend for them or for their classmates) and I was grateful for that today.
We sort of oozed through our morning with no set agenda. Woke up late after a blissfully good night's sleep, despite my ongoing ear problem. Did chores. Did a few extra chores. Giggled a lot with the sweet girl, who was in a hug-giving mood. Plopped down on pillows in her recently cleaned room (which looks so spacious with most of the floor clutter put away!) and read lots and lots and lots of Jack Prelutsky.
Prelutsky is the sweet girl's favorite poet at the moment, and I'm enjoying him too -- his outrageous sense of humor and his utter delight in wordplay. He is a *terrific* poet for visual learners, since he loves making shape poems, and there are several great ones in It's Raining Pigs and Noodles, our current volume. Our favorite right now is "I Am Winding Through a Maze" where the words themselves wind through a maze, while the poet tries to find his way out. Last year I wrote about Prelutsky's book A Pizza the Size of the Sun (link to my review) but I think Pigs and Noodles will need a review of its own soon.
One of my favorite moments this morning came as the teakettle began shrieking as we were in the midst of a poem. I paused, then said "hold on" as I scrambled to my feet to go turn off the burner. "Whew," my little poetry-loving girl said, "good thing we were at the end of a stanza!" I laughed. Perfect timing.
We spent the rest of the morning drawing while listening to Tchaikovsky and Stravinsky, then making paper doll bunnies based on Amelia and Susannah, the rabbits in Marisabina Russo's new picture book A Very Big Bunny.
This afternoon's agenda includes a toe-nail painting session (the sweet girl knows it's sandal weather!) and the making of a (very) belated birthday cake for my husband. Plus all the paper reading and grading I can squeeze in. Then tonight, dinner at the annual Nationality Days street fair. And after S. is in bed, her dad and I get to watch the latest episode of LOST, which came via mail today, courtesy of Erin. Definitely a Friday!
I was so tired this morning that I told the sweet girl we were sleeping in. We do "relaxed Fridays" in our homeschool anyway, with a focus on art, music and poetry each week. We usually have our homeschool group meetings on Friday afternoon, but we're winding up the year and took the day off (many of the folks involved are seminarians, and it's graduation weekend for them or for their classmates) and I was grateful for that today.
We sort of oozed through our morning with no set agenda. Woke up late after a blissfully good night's sleep, despite my ongoing ear problem. Did chores. Did a few extra chores. Giggled a lot with the sweet girl, who was in a hug-giving mood. Plopped down on pillows in her recently cleaned room (which looks so spacious with most of the floor clutter put away!) and read lots and lots and lots of Jack Prelutsky.
Prelutsky is the sweet girl's favorite poet at the moment, and I'm enjoying him too -- his outrageous sense of humor and his utter delight in wordplay. He is a *terrific* poet for visual learners, since he loves making shape poems, and there are several great ones in It's Raining Pigs and Noodles, our current volume. Our favorite right now is "I Am Winding Through a Maze" where the words themselves wind through a maze, while the poet tries to find his way out. Last year I wrote about Prelutsky's book A Pizza the Size of the Sun (link to my review) but I think Pigs and Noodles will need a review of its own soon.
One of my favorite moments this morning came as the teakettle began shrieking as we were in the midst of a poem. I paused, then said "hold on" as I scrambled to my feet to go turn off the burner. "Whew," my little poetry-loving girl said, "good thing we were at the end of a stanza!" I laughed. Perfect timing.
We spent the rest of the morning drawing while listening to Tchaikovsky and Stravinsky, then making paper doll bunnies based on Amelia and Susannah, the rabbits in Marisabina Russo's new picture book A Very Big Bunny.
This afternoon's agenda includes a toe-nail painting session (the sweet girl knows it's sandal weather!) and the making of a (very) belated birthday cake for my husband. Plus all the paper reading and grading I can squeeze in. Then tonight, dinner at the annual Nationality Days street fair. And after S. is in bed, her dad and I get to watch the latest episode of LOST, which came via mail today, courtesy of Erin. Definitely a Friday!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
LOST and Letting Go
Well, folks, we're in the homestretch. Only three episodes of LOST to go, counting the two-hour finale. By the end of this month, it'll be all over...except for the countless hours of talking we'll get to do about how it all ended.
"The Candidate," last week's episode of LOST, would have been emotionally wrenching any time, but given what I've been going through with my family in the past couple of weeks, it hit me at an especially vulnerable time. I confess I cried, and I don't often cry over television shows (the final episode of MASH being one major exception). But good storytelling is good storytelling, and I found the tears cathartic.
If you've been following my on-again/off-again LOST musings this season, you'll know that I found Doc Jensen's quotations from Flannery O'Connor a great springboard for some reflections on the show's creative artistry. I ended my last LOST ramble by saying that, thanks to Flannery, in these final weeks of the story I would be on the lookout for:
"mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity."
It was hard to keep those glasses on as I was bawling my way through the deaths of Sayid, Sun, Jin (and possibly Frank) but as I reflected in the calmer hours and days afterward, it hit me again what a terrific narrative lens those things provide.
Let's talk about Sayid. First of all, I found myself so relieved that he was back (albeit so briefly) really and truly back. "Sayid is himself again!" I said to my husband, almost in tears of relief, and of course that should have been my warning.
But we really did have a brief, shining moment when we looked in Sayid's eyes and saw the man we'd come to know...the flawed, broken, but loving man, not the zombie-man he'd turned into when stuck in the service of darkness. And in that moment, we saw the choice Sayid was making as he made it, the choice to die for his friends, and we honored him for it. What better way could we have seen the essential and indispensable qualities that Sayid was carrying with him into eternity as we saw him grab the bomb and make a dash for it, a soldier on a final, merciful mission, giving his comrades one more day and one more chance to defeat the darkness? Even his final instructions to Jack, letting him know about Desmond's whereabouts, were part of a loving act on the side of right and hope.
It's harder with Sun and Jin. There's a part of me that felt like raging "not again! It's just like Charlie!" Their deaths felt so unnecessary. After all they've been through and survived (remember Sun's dash through the jungle with Smokey in pursuit?) to see them defeated by the crush of metal furniture dislodged in a bomb blast, and a roar of rushing water, felt painfully unfair and prosaic. It felt, in fact, like a stupid, senseless casualty of war, which is what it was. And when Jack swam away with the unconscious Sawyer, you saw he knew it for what it was and that it grieved him to the heart.
And what a hard moment that had to be for Jack, the man we know best as a "fixer," the hero who likes to make everything all right and save everyone. He's been slowly, painfully learning that he can't always make everything better. But how difficult this must have been: Sayid just blown apart, Sawyer's life hanging in the balance and dependent on Jack getting him safely to the surface, and then Sun tragically pinned down, helpless. For a surgeon, it must have felt like triage on the battlefield. I suspect swimming away was one of the hardest things Jack ever did.
And yet...left to themselves, with the water pouring in, there were those invisible lines of spiritual motion there, and the grace of Sun and Jin holding onto each other in the final moments, after all those years apart. I will be forever thankful that LOST gave us the earlier scene, when Sun slipped Jin's wedding ring back on his finger, a sort of renewal of their vows to one another. One of the vows in my own wedding service contained the line "until we are parted by death" and it was the line that floated to the surface of my memory as I watched their hands loosen and come unclasped. Jensen, in his recap/commentary, seemed oddly disturbed by that image, angry at the writers for emphasizing their "apartness" after all the time the show took to bring them together again, but I found the image beautifully right. It reminded me, poignantly, weepingly, that the *only* thing that had the power to part these two people now was death. "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the flood waters drown it."
It also served as a poignant reminder that death is real. (Let's lay aside, for the moment, the fact that Sun and Jin, Sayid too, continue to exist in sideways world, in another dimension where they are themselves but not quite themselves, living their stories but not quite their stories, on a different trajectory.) As we experienced the very real deaths of Sun and Jin, characters we've come to love, we realized anew that it's very hard to "let go" -- of one another, of loved ones, of this earth that isn't our home but is a beautiful, broken and blessed place in which to sojourn.
The whole "letting go" theme was perfectly played in this episode, first in the image of Sun and Jin's hands, and then in the scene between Sideways John and Jack, in which they tentatively explored the theme of letting go of the things in life which hold us back from living fully. Jack, newly wise in this particular reality, seems to get that completely, and is just looking for the courage (and camaraderie) to go forward and do it as he knows he needs to do. John isn't quite there yet, but then John's always had a hard time letting go -- of good things, and of things that hold him back. He tends to be a wallower and needs some help getting unstuck.
Of course, the letting go theme has another dimension for us viewers too -- pretty soon we've got to let go of this fascinating story. I'm not quite ready to do that yet, so I'm glad we've got a couple more weeks before we have to.
"The Candidate," last week's episode of LOST, would have been emotionally wrenching any time, but given what I've been going through with my family in the past couple of weeks, it hit me at an especially vulnerable time. I confess I cried, and I don't often cry over television shows (the final episode of MASH being one major exception). But good storytelling is good storytelling, and I found the tears cathartic.
If you've been following my on-again/off-again LOST musings this season, you'll know that I found Doc Jensen's quotations from Flannery O'Connor a great springboard for some reflections on the show's creative artistry. I ended my last LOST ramble by saying that, thanks to Flannery, in these final weeks of the story I would be on the lookout for:
"mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity."
It was hard to keep those glasses on as I was bawling my way through the deaths of Sayid, Sun, Jin (and possibly Frank) but as I reflected in the calmer hours and days afterward, it hit me again what a terrific narrative lens those things provide.
Let's talk about Sayid. First of all, I found myself so relieved that he was back (albeit so briefly) really and truly back. "Sayid is himself again!" I said to my husband, almost in tears of relief, and of course that should have been my warning.
But we really did have a brief, shining moment when we looked in Sayid's eyes and saw the man we'd come to know...the flawed, broken, but loving man, not the zombie-man he'd turned into when stuck in the service of darkness. And in that moment, we saw the choice Sayid was making as he made it, the choice to die for his friends, and we honored him for it. What better way could we have seen the essential and indispensable qualities that Sayid was carrying with him into eternity as we saw him grab the bomb and make a dash for it, a soldier on a final, merciful mission, giving his comrades one more day and one more chance to defeat the darkness? Even his final instructions to Jack, letting him know about Desmond's whereabouts, were part of a loving act on the side of right and hope.
It's harder with Sun and Jin. There's a part of me that felt like raging "not again! It's just like Charlie!" Their deaths felt so unnecessary. After all they've been through and survived (remember Sun's dash through the jungle with Smokey in pursuit?) to see them defeated by the crush of metal furniture dislodged in a bomb blast, and a roar of rushing water, felt painfully unfair and prosaic. It felt, in fact, like a stupid, senseless casualty of war, which is what it was. And when Jack swam away with the unconscious Sawyer, you saw he knew it for what it was and that it grieved him to the heart.
And what a hard moment that had to be for Jack, the man we know best as a "fixer," the hero who likes to make everything all right and save everyone. He's been slowly, painfully learning that he can't always make everything better. But how difficult this must have been: Sayid just blown apart, Sawyer's life hanging in the balance and dependent on Jack getting him safely to the surface, and then Sun tragically pinned down, helpless. For a surgeon, it must have felt like triage on the battlefield. I suspect swimming away was one of the hardest things Jack ever did.
And yet...left to themselves, with the water pouring in, there were those invisible lines of spiritual motion there, and the grace of Sun and Jin holding onto each other in the final moments, after all those years apart. I will be forever thankful that LOST gave us the earlier scene, when Sun slipped Jin's wedding ring back on his finger, a sort of renewal of their vows to one another. One of the vows in my own wedding service contained the line "until we are parted by death" and it was the line that floated to the surface of my memory as I watched their hands loosen and come unclasped. Jensen, in his recap/commentary, seemed oddly disturbed by that image, angry at the writers for emphasizing their "apartness" after all the time the show took to bring them together again, but I found the image beautifully right. It reminded me, poignantly, weepingly, that the *only* thing that had the power to part these two people now was death. "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the flood waters drown it."
It also served as a poignant reminder that death is real. (Let's lay aside, for the moment, the fact that Sun and Jin, Sayid too, continue to exist in sideways world, in another dimension where they are themselves but not quite themselves, living their stories but not quite their stories, on a different trajectory.) As we experienced the very real deaths of Sun and Jin, characters we've come to love, we realized anew that it's very hard to "let go" -- of one another, of loved ones, of this earth that isn't our home but is a beautiful, broken and blessed place in which to sojourn.
The whole "letting go" theme was perfectly played in this episode, first in the image of Sun and Jin's hands, and then in the scene between Sideways John and Jack, in which they tentatively explored the theme of letting go of the things in life which hold us back from living fully. Jack, newly wise in this particular reality, seems to get that completely, and is just looking for the courage (and camaraderie) to go forward and do it as he knows he needs to do. John isn't quite there yet, but then John's always had a hard time letting go -- of good things, and of things that hold him back. He tends to be a wallower and needs some help getting unstuck.
Of course, the letting go theme has another dimension for us viewers too -- pretty soon we've got to let go of this fascinating story. I'm not quite ready to do that yet, so I'm glad we've got a couple more weeks before we have to.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Every Day a Gift
Well, we've not only turned the corner on April but moved a full week into May. I apologize for disappearing, but sometimes life becomes full-steam ahead and there's just no time to reflect! (Or to sit down at the computer to blog.) Full-steam ahead is a good way to characterize what's been happening with me in the past ten days or so.
My 77 year old father became suddenly, unexpectedly and quite seriously ill, going into congestive heart failure. The past week and a half were full of phone calls, worries, prayers, struggles, conversations, unexpected angels, and some tiring travel. Dad was in the hospital for several days. He's now home, though weak and tired, being nursed by my wonderful mom, and we're not yet sure just what lies ahead for him. There have been some painful and emotional moments as I contemplated the possibility of losing my dad, now or in the near future.
One blessing (among many) was that myself and my three siblings plus most of our families (almost all of my parents' grandchildren, and all of their great-grandchildren) were able to make visits to Virginia. Over the course of about a week, we had family gathered together from Virginia, Connecticut, Illinois, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Texas, Iowa, Montana, and Minnesota. The impromptu family reunion, even or especially in the midst of such real worry and potential sorrow, was a beautiful thing. And my dad, graced in a special way by the Lord, just seemed to brim with joy and contentment to have his loved ones gathered around him.
Just a few weeks ago, before we knew my father was sick, I had called home to wish my parents a happy 56th wedding anniversary. Dad and I talked for a while, and one of the things he said to me then, which came back to me with a lot of force this past week, was how blessed he was by his long life. His father died of congestive heart failure at the very young age of 61, one reason my dad always seemed to struggle (in his forties and fifties) with worry that he might not live past that age, and one reason that he's spent the past twenty years eating healthily and exercising. What he said to me was "I've already lived much longer than I ever thought I would. And every new day I have is a gift to enjoy."
That truth seemed to radiate from him at the hospital -- in his humor, in his graciousness to the nurses attending him, in his joy in seeing his far-flung family. It made me realize anew just how much I want gratitude to permeate my life: now, every day, for as many days as I'm given.
So anyway...that's what's been happening with me. It's end of semester and I'm behind on paper grading, so I'm fairly certain that May is going to be a slow blogging month, but I can tell I am also longing for writing time, so you never know! I've got reviews dancing in my brain, and I still have some poetry posts I'd like to get up, ones I'd hoped to post at the end of April -- but I don't mind extending the poetry celebration into May and all year round. And as I begin to plan homeschool studies for next year (grammar 3/3rd grade) I will likely have some school posts in the pipeline too.
It's good to be back to "ordinary" life and blogging. With just a twist of extra gratitude.
My 77 year old father became suddenly, unexpectedly and quite seriously ill, going into congestive heart failure. The past week and a half were full of phone calls, worries, prayers, struggles, conversations, unexpected angels, and some tiring travel. Dad was in the hospital for several days. He's now home, though weak and tired, being nursed by my wonderful mom, and we're not yet sure just what lies ahead for him. There have been some painful and emotional moments as I contemplated the possibility of losing my dad, now or in the near future.
One blessing (among many) was that myself and my three siblings plus most of our families (almost all of my parents' grandchildren, and all of their great-grandchildren) were able to make visits to Virginia. Over the course of about a week, we had family gathered together from Virginia, Connecticut, Illinois, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Texas, Iowa, Montana, and Minnesota. The impromptu family reunion, even or especially in the midst of such real worry and potential sorrow, was a beautiful thing. And my dad, graced in a special way by the Lord, just seemed to brim with joy and contentment to have his loved ones gathered around him.
Just a few weeks ago, before we knew my father was sick, I had called home to wish my parents a happy 56th wedding anniversary. Dad and I talked for a while, and one of the things he said to me then, which came back to me with a lot of force this past week, was how blessed he was by his long life. His father died of congestive heart failure at the very young age of 61, one reason my dad always seemed to struggle (in his forties and fifties) with worry that he might not live past that age, and one reason that he's spent the past twenty years eating healthily and exercising. What he said to me was "I've already lived much longer than I ever thought I would. And every new day I have is a gift to enjoy."
That truth seemed to radiate from him at the hospital -- in his humor, in his graciousness to the nurses attending him, in his joy in seeing his far-flung family. It made me realize anew just how much I want gratitude to permeate my life: now, every day, for as many days as I'm given.
So anyway...that's what's been happening with me. It's end of semester and I'm behind on paper grading, so I'm fairly certain that May is going to be a slow blogging month, but I can tell I am also longing for writing time, so you never know! I've got reviews dancing in my brain, and I still have some poetry posts I'd like to get up, ones I'd hoped to post at the end of April -- but I don't mind extending the poetry celebration into May and all year round. And as I begin to plan homeschool studies for next year (grammar 3/3rd grade) I will likely have some school posts in the pipeline too.
It's good to be back to "ordinary" life and blogging. With just a twist of extra gratitude.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
LOST in Thought
With LOST on a week-long hiatus this week, I find myself musing on the weeks just past and wondering (again!) just how they will manage to wrap up the sprawling epic of this show in just a mere five more hours. It's been a while since I've posted any LOST musings, but I thought I'd throw a few out there again for fun. But be warned, I'll be all over the map with these thoughts ~ perhaps because the non-linear nature of the storytelling has my popcorn-brain reeling. In a good way. I think.
I find myself caring again about the whole romantic triangle between Kate-Jack-Sawyer. I know that most people have been sick of this since...well, pretty much since it started. And I know it's gotten old at times, especially with Kate seeming to yo-yo back and forth in her heart's affections, not able to make up her mind. My husband and I are in agreement that LOST has not done nearly as well by its female characters as it has by its male, with the possible exception of Juliet's character arc, which impressed us. It looks like Juliet's role is mostly over, though I certainly wouldn't rule out seeing her again in the next five hours, at least in sideways world. (Does anyone else think it's still possible she could be Jack's ex? The writers have certainly been holding that secret close to their chests, and there aren't too many female characters left that it could be...and have the reveal make any sort of a dramatic splash.)
I also feel, like most people I suspect, that Sawyer and Juliet are right for each other. Deep down, they seem to be soul-mates in a show suddenly run amok with the idea of soul-mates. I don't know if sideways Sawyer and Kate, currently flirting at the police station, will have any cause to wind up at the hospital where so many of our castaways are currently congregating, but what if they do? And what if Juliet is Jack's ex and ends up there as well, maybe to pick up their son David, who is currently hanging out in the waiting room while his doctor Dad performs surgery on sideways John Locke? I'm just trying to imagine a scenario in which Sawyer and Juliet could run into either other. If she is his soul-mate/constant, then I'm guessing that Sawyer is in for a revelatory epiphany, the likes of which some of our other castaways have had when they've run into their other halves in sideways world. Note that, although sideways Sawyer and Kate clearly find one another attractive, they don't seem to be having major revelations yet -- though that could be because neither of them has suffered a major trauma (or kissed the other).
So that's one reason I'm intrigued by the whole Kate-Jack-Sawyer triangle again, because of what "true love" connections have come to mean in sideways world. And meanwhile, back in Island reality, the triangle has again become interesting, not so much because of its romantic overtones, but because at the moment Jack and Sawyer are pursuing such entirely different paths. Despite her inherent leadership qualities (and she's got em' in spades) Kate is still quite young, and still tends to follow the lead of others (or chase after them to tag along). So I think her ultimate heart allegiance may matter in the end, especially if it comes to her needing to decide whether to go with Sawyer or Jack. Will she fight or flee? Will she play a part in rescuing Jack from the clutches of Smokey? And will Sawyer and Jack, perhaps because of their mutual love for Kate, finally end up working together to accomplish...well, whatever it is they're supposed to accomplish, assuming they can agree on what that is?
Of course, some of my musings about Kate have been sparked by the fact that I've been listening to Patsy Cline a lot this week. I love her music and recently stumbled onto a nice tribute album done by several popular female vocalists. As I've been warbling my way through songs like "Why Can't He Be You" I find myself remembering that Patsy was the soundtrack for Kate's pre-island life. And I find myself wondering, if Kate was singing this song, would Jack be the he or the you?
********
Do Claire and Sayid still live?
Yes, I know they're still alive, in both realities, at the moment. But at least in island world, neither has been doing so well since coming under the throes of Smokey. Claire has clearly been mentally unstable for the better part of three years (small wonder, since she's been traipsing around the island in Smokey's wake that whole time, at least part of the time with him apparently masquerading as her long-lost father); Sayid has been acting like a zombie for most of season 6, and has seemingly been completely under Smokey's control that whole time, at least since his dip in the pool (if we can trust Sayid's crediting Smokey for that). Seriously folks, if we need any other evidence that Smokey is not a good guy, should Claire and Sayid leave us in any doubt? This is what happens to you when you become Smokey's friend, or when you owe him any sort of debt.
But last week, something happened with both Claire and Sayid that gave me at least momentary hope. Both of them showed signs of life. Small signs, yes, but signs that there are at least tiny flickers of the old Claire and Sayid left there somewhere, buried under all the darkness. Claire crumbled enough to listen to Kate and defy Smokey's will. Sayid, though we don't know for sure, seemed to defy Smokey's direct orders to kill Desmond. I don't know what this might mean for either character ultimately, but I was relieved to see even tiny morsels of possible redemption for either. I've missed the real Sayid this season particularly. I think Claire is as much a victim of bad writing as she is of Smokey, and I suspect the first may be harder to overcome, but we shall see.
*******
Doc Jensen's eleven-page recap last week had me reeling, as usual. I don't agree with all of his theories at this point, and I'm not sure even he knows which ones might turn out to be correct, but he's always fascinating. I especially love his literary insights into the show, and last week he tapped a great one when he talked about the resonance of Flannery O'Connor's work for this final season.
I was stunned when sideways Desmond, the only character who seems to be fully and consciously aware of both timelines/realities at the moment, mowed down wheelchair-bound John Locke in sideways world. Poor John. How many times have we mourned this man and the terrible things that have happened to him? Wherever your speculations might lead you as to why lovable Desmond, of all people, would do such a thing, it seems obvious that a big part of the reason was to try to bring Locke back to awareness of the island. Why it had to be such a major trauma, I don't know, unless Des knows more than we realize he knows. (Could he have posited that it might land Locke in the hospital, to be operated on by Jack? Did he want Ben to see it happen? Does he somehow think/hope/know that at least some of the sideways castaways can't be killed...maybe the ones who are already dead in island world? Remember Charlie's casual walk against the traffic a couple of weeks back...)
Anyway, Jensen didn't spend much time positing why Desmond did such a thing, at least from the point of view of "inside" the story. But from the point of view of why the writers might have made this move, he raised this fascinating insight from Flannery O'Connor's writing about her fiction, a point that strangely resonates with what Desmond seems to be trying to do in sideways reality:
"I suppose the reasons for the use of so much violence in modern fiction will differ with each writer who uses it, but in my own stories I have found that violence is strangely capable of returning my characters to reality and preparing them to accept their moment of grace. Their heads are so hard that almost nothing else will do the work. This idea, that reality is something to which we must be returned at considerable cost, is one which is seldom understood by the casual reader, but it is one which is implicit in the Christian view of the world." (Mystery and Manners, p. 112)
Wow. Now that's worth chewing on. It's also worth noting that, when you apply this quote to the artistry and story of LOST (no big stretch, is it? it really does seem to fit!) Desmond here seems to stand in for "the writer." He is essentially trying to alter people's stories, much as a writer alters a character's story by what she chooses to have that character go through. It dawns on me that Des has the knowledge of a sort of omniscient narrator right now. And he is acting as -- an ambassador? a wake-up call? -- to the people of sideways world with whom he has shared some life-altering experiences. He wants them to "return to reality" even if there is "considerable cost" involved. So part of the question for us, in LOST, becomes: what is reality for these castaways? And how much do we trust Desmond and what he's willing to do to return them to it?
The whole notion of non-gratuitous violence being utilized as a call to grace is a very O'Connor'ish theme. I keep her book Mystery and Manners on my writing desk at all times, so it was easy to look up the quote Jensen used. I was fascinated to see that it came within the larger context of her discussion of her much-read and oft-misunderstood short story "The Misfit." If you ever had to read one O'Connor story in Lit. 101, that was probably it, and more than likely it left you baffled, as it leaves most of us the first few times through. What she goes on to say about the story is very revealing, and also has some resonance (I think/hope) for LOST. I'm going to quote parts of it at length, from pgs. 112-114 (emphases mine)...
"I don't want to equate the Misfit with the devil. I prefer to think that, however unlikely this may seem, the old lady's gesture, like the mustard-seed, will grow to be a great crow-filled tree in the Misfit's heart, and will be enough of a pain to him there to turn him into the prophet he was meant to become. But that's another story.
This story has been called grotesque, but I prefer to call it literal. A good story is literal in the same sense that a child's drawing is literal. When a child draws, he doesn't intend to distort but to set down exactly what he sees, and as his gaze is direct, he sees the lines that create motion. Now the lines of motion that interest the writer are usually invisible. They are lines of spiritual motion. And in this story you should be on the lookout for such things as the action of grace in the Grandmother's soul, and not for the dead bodies.
We hear many complaints about the prevalence of violence in modern fiction, and it is always assumed that this violence is a bad thing and meant to be an end in itself. With the serious writer, violence is never an end to itself. It is the extreme situation that best reveals what we are essentially, and I believe these are times when writers are more interested in what we are essentially than in the tenor of our daily lives. Violence is a force which can be used for good or evil, and among other things taken by it is the kingdom of heaven. But regardless of what can be taken by it, the man in the violent situation reveals those qualities least dispensable in his personality, those qualities which are all he will have to take into eternity with him; and since the characters in this story are all on the verge of eternity, it is appropriate to think of what they take with them..." (Mystery and Manners, pp. 112-114)
I know that it's easier to see this in the literary work of one "serious" and Christian author than it is in a weekly television show written by multiple writers, some of whom may or may not be Christian. But I still think the overall quality of story-telling in LOST hints at this kind of artistry, and I'm thankful to Jensen for making the connection. It's given me a whole new way to approach these last five hours of the story, on the lookout, as it were, for mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity. Not a bad way to watch television.
I find myself caring again about the whole romantic triangle between Kate-Jack-Sawyer. I know that most people have been sick of this since...well, pretty much since it started. And I know it's gotten old at times, especially with Kate seeming to yo-yo back and forth in her heart's affections, not able to make up her mind. My husband and I are in agreement that LOST has not done nearly as well by its female characters as it has by its male, with the possible exception of Juliet's character arc, which impressed us. It looks like Juliet's role is mostly over, though I certainly wouldn't rule out seeing her again in the next five hours, at least in sideways world. (Does anyone else think it's still possible she could be Jack's ex? The writers have certainly been holding that secret close to their chests, and there aren't too many female characters left that it could be...and have the reveal make any sort of a dramatic splash.)
I also feel, like most people I suspect, that Sawyer and Juliet are right for each other. Deep down, they seem to be soul-mates in a show suddenly run amok with the idea of soul-mates. I don't know if sideways Sawyer and Kate, currently flirting at the police station, will have any cause to wind up at the hospital where so many of our castaways are currently congregating, but what if they do? And what if Juliet is Jack's ex and ends up there as well, maybe to pick up their son David, who is currently hanging out in the waiting room while his doctor Dad performs surgery on sideways John Locke? I'm just trying to imagine a scenario in which Sawyer and Juliet could run into either other. If she is his soul-mate/constant, then I'm guessing that Sawyer is in for a revelatory epiphany, the likes of which some of our other castaways have had when they've run into their other halves in sideways world. Note that, although sideways Sawyer and Kate clearly find one another attractive, they don't seem to be having major revelations yet -- though that could be because neither of them has suffered a major trauma (or kissed the other).
So that's one reason I'm intrigued by the whole Kate-Jack-Sawyer triangle again, because of what "true love" connections have come to mean in sideways world. And meanwhile, back in Island reality, the triangle has again become interesting, not so much because of its romantic overtones, but because at the moment Jack and Sawyer are pursuing such entirely different paths. Despite her inherent leadership qualities (and she's got em' in spades) Kate is still quite young, and still tends to follow the lead of others (or chase after them to tag along). So I think her ultimate heart allegiance may matter in the end, especially if it comes to her needing to decide whether to go with Sawyer or Jack. Will she fight or flee? Will she play a part in rescuing Jack from the clutches of Smokey? And will Sawyer and Jack, perhaps because of their mutual love for Kate, finally end up working together to accomplish...well, whatever it is they're supposed to accomplish, assuming they can agree on what that is?
Of course, some of my musings about Kate have been sparked by the fact that I've been listening to Patsy Cline a lot this week. I love her music and recently stumbled onto a nice tribute album done by several popular female vocalists. As I've been warbling my way through songs like "Why Can't He Be You" I find myself remembering that Patsy was the soundtrack for Kate's pre-island life. And I find myself wondering, if Kate was singing this song, would Jack be the he or the you?
********
Do Claire and Sayid still live?
Yes, I know they're still alive, in both realities, at the moment. But at least in island world, neither has been doing so well since coming under the throes of Smokey. Claire has clearly been mentally unstable for the better part of three years (small wonder, since she's been traipsing around the island in Smokey's wake that whole time, at least part of the time with him apparently masquerading as her long-lost father); Sayid has been acting like a zombie for most of season 6, and has seemingly been completely under Smokey's control that whole time, at least since his dip in the pool (if we can trust Sayid's crediting Smokey for that). Seriously folks, if we need any other evidence that Smokey is not a good guy, should Claire and Sayid leave us in any doubt? This is what happens to you when you become Smokey's friend, or when you owe him any sort of debt.
But last week, something happened with both Claire and Sayid that gave me at least momentary hope. Both of them showed signs of life. Small signs, yes, but signs that there are at least tiny flickers of the old Claire and Sayid left there somewhere, buried under all the darkness. Claire crumbled enough to listen to Kate and defy Smokey's will. Sayid, though we don't know for sure, seemed to defy Smokey's direct orders to kill Desmond. I don't know what this might mean for either character ultimately, but I was relieved to see even tiny morsels of possible redemption for either. I've missed the real Sayid this season particularly. I think Claire is as much a victim of bad writing as she is of Smokey, and I suspect the first may be harder to overcome, but we shall see.
*******
Doc Jensen's eleven-page recap last week had me reeling, as usual. I don't agree with all of his theories at this point, and I'm not sure even he knows which ones might turn out to be correct, but he's always fascinating. I especially love his literary insights into the show, and last week he tapped a great one when he talked about the resonance of Flannery O'Connor's work for this final season.
I was stunned when sideways Desmond, the only character who seems to be fully and consciously aware of both timelines/realities at the moment, mowed down wheelchair-bound John Locke in sideways world. Poor John. How many times have we mourned this man and the terrible things that have happened to him? Wherever your speculations might lead you as to why lovable Desmond, of all people, would do such a thing, it seems obvious that a big part of the reason was to try to bring Locke back to awareness of the island. Why it had to be such a major trauma, I don't know, unless Des knows more than we realize he knows. (Could he have posited that it might land Locke in the hospital, to be operated on by Jack? Did he want Ben to see it happen? Does he somehow think/hope/know that at least some of the sideways castaways can't be killed...maybe the ones who are already dead in island world? Remember Charlie's casual walk against the traffic a couple of weeks back...)
Anyway, Jensen didn't spend much time positing why Desmond did such a thing, at least from the point of view of "inside" the story. But from the point of view of why the writers might have made this move, he raised this fascinating insight from Flannery O'Connor's writing about her fiction, a point that strangely resonates with what Desmond seems to be trying to do in sideways reality:
"I suppose the reasons for the use of so much violence in modern fiction will differ with each writer who uses it, but in my own stories I have found that violence is strangely capable of returning my characters to reality and preparing them to accept their moment of grace. Their heads are so hard that almost nothing else will do the work. This idea, that reality is something to which we must be returned at considerable cost, is one which is seldom understood by the casual reader, but it is one which is implicit in the Christian view of the world." (Mystery and Manners, p. 112)
Wow. Now that's worth chewing on. It's also worth noting that, when you apply this quote to the artistry and story of LOST (no big stretch, is it? it really does seem to fit!) Desmond here seems to stand in for "the writer." He is essentially trying to alter people's stories, much as a writer alters a character's story by what she chooses to have that character go through. It dawns on me that Des has the knowledge of a sort of omniscient narrator right now. And he is acting as -- an ambassador? a wake-up call? -- to the people of sideways world with whom he has shared some life-altering experiences. He wants them to "return to reality" even if there is "considerable cost" involved. So part of the question for us, in LOST, becomes: what is reality for these castaways? And how much do we trust Desmond and what he's willing to do to return them to it?
The whole notion of non-gratuitous violence being utilized as a call to grace is a very O'Connor'ish theme. I keep her book Mystery and Manners on my writing desk at all times, so it was easy to look up the quote Jensen used. I was fascinated to see that it came within the larger context of her discussion of her much-read and oft-misunderstood short story "The Misfit." If you ever had to read one O'Connor story in Lit. 101, that was probably it, and more than likely it left you baffled, as it leaves most of us the first few times through. What she goes on to say about the story is very revealing, and also has some resonance (I think/hope) for LOST. I'm going to quote parts of it at length, from pgs. 112-114 (emphases mine)...
"I don't want to equate the Misfit
This story has been called grotesque, but I prefer to call it literal. A good story is literal in the same sense that a child's drawing is literal. When a child draws, he doesn't intend to distort but to set down exactly what he sees, and as his gaze is direct, he sees the lines that create motion. Now the lines of motion that interest the writer are usually invisible. They are lines of spiritual motion. And in this story you should be on the lookout for such things as the action of grace in the Grandmother's soul, and not for the dead bodies.
We hear many complaints about the prevalence of violence in modern fiction, and it is always assumed that this violence is a bad thing and meant to be an end in itself. With the serious writer, violence is never an end to itself. It is the extreme situation that best reveals what we are essentially, and I believe these are times when writers are more interested in what we are essentially than in the tenor of our daily lives. Violence is a force which can be used for good or evil, and among other things taken by it is the kingdom of heaven. But regardless of what can be taken by it, the man in the violent situation reveals those qualities least dispensable in his personality, those qualities which are all he will have to take into eternity with him; and since the characters in this story are all on the verge of eternity, it is appropriate to think of what they take with them..." (Mystery and Manners, pp. 112-114)
I know that it's easier to see this in the literary work of one "serious" and Christian author than it is in a weekly television show written by multiple writers, some of whom may or may not be Christian. But I still think the overall quality of story-telling in LOST hints at this kind of artistry, and I'm thankful to Jensen for making the connection. It's given me a whole new way to approach these last five hours of the story, on the lookout, as it were, for mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity. Not a bad way to watch television.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Homeschool Group Poem: Spring
I've been enjoying sharing poetry wherever I go this month. On Friday, I had a few minutes to share some springtime poems with our homeschool group. Then three of the girls (including the sweet girl) tried their hand at writing a poem together.
I love doing wordplay exercises with kids. These three girls, ages 6-10, had so much fun just playing with words. I liked seeing their eyes spark with creativity as we brainstormed ideas together. I loved catching their energy as they watched their web of words grow as I jotted them down on newsprint. I threw out all sorts of sensory and imagination sparking questions about spring: what does it look like? sound like? what are the colors of spring? if it had a taste, what would it taste like? if it was a girl dressing up for a party, what would she wear?
That last question really got them going. As the answers poured forth, so did the first line of their poem. I recognized it as soon as I heard it. And once that line came together, the rest of it tumbled out from them in excited exclamations. They watched their joint-poem grow on the page, and then all three of them proudly signed it.
Here's what they came up with:
Spring
Spring is a lady
with a leafy hat.
She dances with
the wind.
She sings and whistles
with the birds.
She bows with the trees
and sways with
the flowers.
~by S, A & A, three very creative girls!
I love doing wordplay exercises with kids. These three girls, ages 6-10, had so much fun just playing with words. I liked seeing their eyes spark with creativity as we brainstormed ideas together. I loved catching their energy as they watched their web of words grow as I jotted them down on newsprint. I threw out all sorts of sensory and imagination sparking questions about spring: what does it look like? sound like? what are the colors of spring? if it had a taste, what would it taste like? if it was a girl dressing up for a party, what would she wear?
That last question really got them going. As the answers poured forth, so did the first line of their poem. I recognized it as soon as I heard it. And once that line came together, the rest of it tumbled out from them in excited exclamations. They watched their joint-poem grow on the page, and then all three of them proudly signed it.
Here's what they came up with:
Spring
Spring is a lady
with a leafy hat.
She dances with
the wind.
She sings and whistles
with the birds.
She bows with the trees
and sways with
the flowers.
~by S, A & A, three very creative girls!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Poetry Postcard 3
So many of my favorite poetry moments this month have come through reading the excellent interviews in The Poetry Makers series at the Miss Rumphius Effect. I especially love the quotes on poetry and writing I'm getting to add to my collection. Some of these come in the section where the poet is asked to share their own favorite quotes, but many others just jump off the page in the midst of the conversation. Here are a few I've especially enjoyed chewing on:
“Poems are not meant to be solved; they are meant to be savored.” --Allan Wolf
"I write so that I might become a better reader." --Allan Wolf (isn't that a delicious reversal from how we usually hear it?)
"I have a little notebook in my back pocket and a pen in my front pocket at all times. I actually get a little panicky when I’m without them." -- Allan Wolf (I resonate with this one!)
"...poems are for noticing, for wondering, for describing something so interesting you want to capture it in words, save it forever, share it with the world, make people see what you see, feel what you feel." -- Heidi Mordhorst
"...it’s fun for me to go through three or five or eight drafts of a poem. I like to watch it change and muscle me into where it wants to go instead of where I think I want to take it. Some people like to drive poetry around. I like to be poetry’s passenger." -- Ron Koertge
"My basic approach when I write is to waste no words." -- Charles R. Smith Jr.
"Fingers hover over the keyboard, brain chases down words, lassoing them like stray calves. Thesaurus, rhyming dictionary close at hand. If I get stuck, I push away from the desk – take a nap, eat some chocolate, take a walk. Shake the words loose. Return to the desk. And, to steal Ms. Yolen’s line, keep B.I.C. (Butt In Chair) until I’ve got something." -- Stephen Swinburne, on describing his writing process.
“Poems are not meant to be solved; they are meant to be savored.” --Allan Wolf
"I write so that I might become a better reader." --Allan Wolf (isn't that a delicious reversal from how we usually hear it?)
"I have a little notebook in my back pocket and a pen in my front pocket at all times. I actually get a little panicky when I’m without them." -- Allan Wolf (I resonate with this one!)
"...poems are for noticing, for wondering, for describing something so interesting you want to capture it in words, save it forever, share it with the world, make people see what you see, feel what you feel." -- Heidi Mordhorst
"...it’s fun for me to go through three or five or eight drafts of a poem. I like to watch it change and muscle me into where it wants to go instead of where I think I want to take it. Some people like to drive poetry around. I like to be poetry’s passenger." -- Ron Koertge
"My basic approach when I write is to waste no words." -- Charles R. Smith Jr.
"Fingers hover over the keyboard, brain chases down words, lassoing them like stray calves. Thesaurus, rhyming dictionary close at hand. If I get stuck, I push away from the desk – take a nap, eat some chocolate, take a walk. Shake the words loose. Return to the desk. And, to steal Ms. Yolen’s line, keep B.I.C. (Butt In Chair) until I’ve got something." -- Stephen Swinburne, on describing his writing process.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Final Musings on Top 100 Children's Novels & My Personal Top 20
I can't seem to break the habit of going over to Fuse#8 each morning. Even though the countdown of the top 100 children's novels finished a week ago, Betsy has rewarded her readers with all sorts of goodies in the past several days, including a peek at what just missed the cut (books 101-120) and a long list of every book that garnered even one vote, a fascinating glimpse of beloved books ~ a mix of well-known, never heard of, half-forgotten.
One of the things that intrigued me about that list was how certain authors showed up again and again. Even though they might be known for one book in particular, their other books are also loved. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing (or imagining hearing!) the shrieks of glee in the comments among readers who assumed they were the only ones who had voted for something, only to find that at least one other person shared their passion for a certain title. It's how I felt when I realized I was not alone in voting for Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill, the only one of the top ten I voted for that didn't make the top 100 list.
In case you're interested, here are the ten books I voted for. They're ranked in the order in which I placed them (1-10) with their actual final ranking on the poll in parentheses.
1. Charlotte's Web by E.B. White (#1)
Our family discussions about whether or not CW would indeed come in first sparked a new love for Charlotte at our house. The sweet girl and I re-read it aloud (with her Daddy listening in as he was able) and she's now reading it on her own for the first time. S. also got curious about those initials -- what did E.B. stand for? -- which got me curious too. I never knew until the other day, but E.B. stands for Elwyn Brooks.
2. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis (#4)
I was happy to see this come in as high as it did, and to note that lots of readers lavished love (and votes) on Magician's Nephew and Dawn Treader as well. The Silver Chair, The Horse and His Boy and The Last Battle all got one vote apiece too. Only Prince Caspian missed out in the vote-getting.
3. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (#25)
I feared it might not make the list because of its age, but I should have known better. One of only a handful of 19th century titles to make the list, LW has stood the test of time.
4. Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill by Maud Hart Lovelace (did not make final poll)
I had a feeling that this wouldn't make it, if only because I assumed that the original Betsy-Tacy would (and it did, at #70). I came close to voting for the first book myself, but in the end felt swayed by the fact that this was supposed to be the best books for mid-grade readers (ages 8-12). As much as I love the first two Betsy-Tacy books, and have gone back to them again and again at many different ages, I think they work best for readers 5-8. But Betsy ages along with her stories, and by the time you get to Big Hill, the girls are celebrating the grown-up wonder of having two digits in their age. Plus I just flat-out love the way the girls scramble for votes to see who will be the queen of summer!
5. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling (#3)
I actually thought it would come in at #2. It appeared high on my own list, otherwise mostly full of books I gobbled and re-gobbled as a child, or at least have loved for a couple of decades. Harry may be relatively new, but he is already dear to my heart. I was glad to see how much love he got in this poll, though frustrated by how often people feel a need to apologise for how much they love Harry, or explain why the books are so good in spite of their popularity or the critics' dislike of them or J.K. Rowling's writing, etc. I sometimes feel like saying, albeit in a nice way, "get over it, people, these are just fantastic stories. And they're gonna last."
6. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (#2)
I was so happy to see this book come in as high as it did. I wonder if it's not at least in part due to its resurgence in popularity as a result of Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, the reigning Newbery champion that came in at a surprising #39. Stead’s book reads like a love song to Wrinkle. Regardless, I think Wrinkle would have ended up in the top five anyway, especially given how many of us feel gratitude for the gift of protagonist Meg Murry during our pre-and-early adolescence.
7. Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan (#90)
8. Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder (#23)
9. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (#12)
10. Bridge to Terebithia by Katherine Paterson (#13)
Choosing a top ten was so difficult, I went ahead and ranked my personal #11-20, prior to the poll, although I couldn't officially vote for them. Here they are, again with actual poll results in parentheses after.
11. Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary (did not make final poll)
The Cleary votes were clearly split. Small wonder: she's written so many gems, how do you choose just one favorite? Many people chose different books, with the result that a lot of worthy Cleary titles didn't make the final list. But don't cry too hard for Ramona, who managed to come in at #43 (Ramona the Pest); #57 (Ramona Quimby, Age 8); and #89 (Ramona and Her Father). And Henry Huggins, who would have made my husband's top ten for sure, came in at #66.
The sweet girls' favorite Ramona title (so far) didn't make the top 100 either. It's Ramona the Brave, and she put it at #1 on her top 10 list. Yes, she made one too, though not until we were part-way through the poll (when she started to get really interested). She still asked me to send it to “the lady who was doing the poll” and I happily did. I received a thoughtful note back from Betsy Bird, who told me it was one of the best kids' lists she'd gotten!
12. Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo (#15).
13. Bella at Midnight by Diane Stanley (did not make the final poll). I'm beginning to feel achingly alone in my love for Bella. She didn't get a single vote anywhere, and I came darn close to moving this book into my own top ten. Any other fans out there?
14. The Moffats by Eleanor Estes (#120) That no Estes title made the top 100 baffles me. If I had considered The Hundred Dresses a mid-grade novel (its length subconsciously made me neglect it for this category) I might have put it in my top ten. I cut my reading teeth on all the Moffat books and have become a recent delighted fan of Ginger Pye, which won a Newbery. I hope Estes isn't going out of fashion, though if my daughter's response to her books is any indication, I shouldn't worry.
15. Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild (#65)
16. A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (did not make final poll) I know this one is pretty new, but I think it will last. I was glad to see it did garner some votes, just not enough to push it into the top 100.
17. The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander (#82) Though I really wanted to put the whole Prydain series on my list.
18. A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett (#27)
19. Princess Academy by Shannon Hale (did not make final poll) Another relatively new book that I think will make a poll like this ten years from now.
20. Heidi by Johanna Spyri (did not make final poll). I guess its age is against it, but this is a classic I was hoping would make the list.
I had several other books I would have loved to put in the top twenty, such as Jenny and the Cat Club; The Penderwicks; Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion; The Door in the Wall; All-of-a-Kind Family; Babe the Gallant Pig; Paddington Bear; Hattie Big Sky. Some made the poll, some didn’t, but all are books that have meant a great deal to me over the years.
What a fun ride this has been! There were some delightful surprises and some interesting omissions. People sure do love their Dahl and Blume, two writers I must confess I never really went for. Nancy Drew made the list but Trixie Belden didn’t ~ no surprise there, though it did make me want to gnash my teeth. Two verse novels made it but hardly any realistic animal stories. Did you notice? No Sounder, Old Yeller, Bambi, Misty of Chincoteague (or many of the other Marguerite Henry books that might have been chosen) Black Beauty, or any of the Black Stallion books.
And because it’s too much fun not to mention ~ here's a link to 100 Scope Note’s “Wordle” of the Top 100 Children’s Novels. I loved Scope Note’s chortle-worthy observation that, based on this poll, “the most successful children’s book of all time” will likely be called “Little Harry Potter and the Green Witch Ramona Mountain Game.” Wonder if I could borrow that title? Based on Eric Carpenter’s statistics about authors’ ages, I’m in my best decade to write a great children’s book. 52 of the top 100 titles were written by authors between the ages of 38-51. So I’ve got nine years ~ I’d better get cracking!
One of the things that intrigued me about that list was how certain authors showed up again and again. Even though they might be known for one book in particular, their other books are also loved. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing (or imagining hearing!) the shrieks of glee in the comments among readers who assumed they were the only ones who had voted for something, only to find that at least one other person shared their passion for a certain title. It's how I felt when I realized I was not alone in voting for Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill, the only one of the top ten I voted for that didn't make the top 100 list.
In case you're interested, here are the ten books I voted for. They're ranked in the order in which I placed them (1-10) with their actual final ranking on the poll in parentheses.
1. Charlotte's Web by E.B. White (#1)
Our family discussions about whether or not CW would indeed come in first sparked a new love for Charlotte at our house. The sweet girl and I re-read it aloud (with her Daddy listening in as he was able) and she's now reading it on her own for the first time. S. also got curious about those initials -- what did E.B. stand for? -- which got me curious too. I never knew until the other day, but E.B. stands for Elwyn Brooks.
2. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis (#4)
I was happy to see this come in as high as it did, and to note that lots of readers lavished love (and votes) on Magician's Nephew and Dawn Treader as well. The Silver Chair, The Horse and His Boy and The Last Battle all got one vote apiece too. Only Prince Caspian missed out in the vote-getting.
3. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (#25)
I feared it might not make the list because of its age, but I should have known better. One of only a handful of 19th century titles to make the list, LW has stood the test of time.
4. Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill by Maud Hart Lovelace (did not make final poll)
I had a feeling that this wouldn't make it, if only because I assumed that the original Betsy-Tacy would (and it did, at #70). I came close to voting for the first book myself, but in the end felt swayed by the fact that this was supposed to be the best books for mid-grade readers (ages 8-12). As much as I love the first two Betsy-Tacy books, and have gone back to them again and again at many different ages, I think they work best for readers 5-8. But Betsy ages along with her stories, and by the time you get to Big Hill, the girls are celebrating the grown-up wonder of having two digits in their age. Plus I just flat-out love the way the girls scramble for votes to see who will be the queen of summer!
5. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling (#3)
I actually thought it would come in at #2. It appeared high on my own list, otherwise mostly full of books I gobbled and re-gobbled as a child, or at least have loved for a couple of decades. Harry may be relatively new, but he is already dear to my heart. I was glad to see how much love he got in this poll, though frustrated by how often people feel a need to apologise for how much they love Harry, or explain why the books are so good in spite of their popularity or the critics' dislike of them or J.K. Rowling's writing, etc. I sometimes feel like saying, albeit in a nice way, "get over it, people, these are just fantastic stories. And they're gonna last."
6. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (#2)
I was so happy to see this book come in as high as it did. I wonder if it's not at least in part due to its resurgence in popularity as a result of Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, the reigning Newbery champion that came in at a surprising #39. Stead’s book reads like a love song to Wrinkle. Regardless, I think Wrinkle would have ended up in the top five anyway, especially given how many of us feel gratitude for the gift of protagonist Meg Murry during our pre-and-early adolescence.
7. Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan (#90)
8. Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder (#23)
9. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (#12)
10. Bridge to Terebithia by Katherine Paterson (#13)
Choosing a top ten was so difficult, I went ahead and ranked my personal #11-20, prior to the poll, although I couldn't officially vote for them. Here they are, again with actual poll results in parentheses after.
11. Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary (did not make final poll)
The Cleary votes were clearly split. Small wonder: she's written so many gems, how do you choose just one favorite? Many people chose different books, with the result that a lot of worthy Cleary titles didn't make the final list. But don't cry too hard for Ramona, who managed to come in at #43 (Ramona the Pest); #57 (Ramona Quimby, Age 8); and #89 (Ramona and Her Father). And Henry Huggins, who would have made my husband's top ten for sure, came in at #66.
The sweet girls' favorite Ramona title (so far) didn't make the top 100 either. It's Ramona the Brave, and she put it at #1 on her top 10 list. Yes, she made one too, though not until we were part-way through the poll (when she started to get really interested). She still asked me to send it to “the lady who was doing the poll” and I happily did. I received a thoughtful note back from Betsy Bird, who told me it was one of the best kids' lists she'd gotten!
12. Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo (#15).
13. Bella at Midnight by Diane Stanley (did not make the final poll). I'm beginning to feel achingly alone in my love for Bella. She didn't get a single vote anywhere, and I came darn close to moving this book into my own top ten. Any other fans out there?
14. The Moffats by Eleanor Estes (#120) That no Estes title made the top 100 baffles me. If I had considered The Hundred Dresses a mid-grade novel (its length subconsciously made me neglect it for this category) I might have put it in my top ten. I cut my reading teeth on all the Moffat books and have become a recent delighted fan of Ginger Pye, which won a Newbery. I hope Estes isn't going out of fashion, though if my daughter's response to her books is any indication, I shouldn't worry.
15. Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild (#65)
16. A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (did not make final poll) I know this one is pretty new, but I think it will last. I was glad to see it did garner some votes, just not enough to push it into the top 100.
17. The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander (#82) Though I really wanted to put the whole Prydain series on my list.
18. A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett (#27)
19. Princess Academy by Shannon Hale (did not make final poll) Another relatively new book that I think will make a poll like this ten years from now.
20. Heidi by Johanna Spyri (did not make final poll). I guess its age is against it, but this is a classic I was hoping would make the list.
I had several other books I would have loved to put in the top twenty, such as Jenny and the Cat Club; The Penderwicks; Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion; The Door in the Wall; All-of-a-Kind Family; Babe the Gallant Pig; Paddington Bear; Hattie Big Sky. Some made the poll, some didn’t, but all are books that have meant a great deal to me over the years.
What a fun ride this has been! There were some delightful surprises and some interesting omissions. People sure do love their Dahl and Blume, two writers I must confess I never really went for. Nancy Drew made the list but Trixie Belden didn’t ~ no surprise there, though it did make me want to gnash my teeth. Two verse novels made it but hardly any realistic animal stories. Did you notice? No Sounder, Old Yeller, Bambi, Misty of Chincoteague (or many of the other Marguerite Henry books that might have been chosen) Black Beauty, or any of the Black Stallion books.
And because it’s too much fun not to mention ~ here's a link to 100 Scope Note’s “Wordle” of the Top 100 Children’s Novels. I loved Scope Note’s chortle-worthy observation that, based on this poll, “the most successful children’s book of all time” will likely be called “Little Harry Potter and the Green Witch Ramona Mountain Game.” Wonder if I could borrow that title? Based on Eric Carpenter’s statistics about authors’ ages, I’m in my best decade to write a great children’s book. 52 of the top 100 titles were written by authors between the ages of 38-51. So I’ve got nine years ~ I’d better get cracking!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Mother-Daughter Poem: Shell
We've been reading lots of wonderful poetry this month, but on Friday we tried our hand at writing a joint poem. The sweet girl has been playing a lot with her shell collection lately (a number of beautiful shells her Dad picked up on the beach in South Carolina last year) and we spent a while just doing some wordplay exercises with the shells (what do they look like? what do they feel like? what colors are they?) before we wrote this poem together.
Shell
The long silver shell
is swirled.
It looks like it has
a window.
When I look through it
I think I can see
the sea.
~EMP & SBP, April 2010
Shell
The long silver shell
is swirled.
It looks like it has
a window.
When I look through it
I think I can see
the sea.
~EMP & SBP, April 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
So There
The sweet girl and I were out for a beautiful spring walk this afternoon when she tripped and fell. It was a pretty major trip (on a bit of busted sidewalk that had been pushed up higher than the walk around it by some big tree roots) and the concrete ripped right through her jeans. She got a scrape and fairly deep cut and of course she screamed.
Now my kid can scream, really scream. As someone at church said oh so politely when she scrunched a couple of sandal-clad toes in a heavy door, "she tends towards...hysteria...doesn't she?" Well, yes.
My initial response, of course, is to comfort her when she's hurt but then that's often chased by the need to try to get her to calm down and stop screaming bloody murder. When you're out on a street with other people and your kid is hollering that loudly, they tend to think there's a lot more wrong with her than just a scraped knee. This time around, we only had a couple of blocks to go till home, thank goodness. I carried her part of the way but then had to put her down (she's quickly catching up to me size-wise!) and let her limp/hop the final stretch to the door. She managed to punctuate at least every other hop with a loud agonized "Ow!"
Finally, in exasperation, I asked her to please be a little quieter. "I know it hurts," I said calmly, "but there's no need for you to scream like it's the end of the world."
She lifted an indignant, tear-stained face. "I know it's not the end of the world," she said. "And Mommy, I will NOT scream on the day the world ends. Because then we'll get a new heaven and a new earth and that's a GOOD thing."
Hee. So there.
Now my kid can scream, really scream. As someone at church said oh so politely when she scrunched a couple of sandal-clad toes in a heavy door, "she tends towards...hysteria...doesn't she?" Well, yes.
My initial response, of course, is to comfort her when she's hurt but then that's often chased by the need to try to get her to calm down and stop screaming bloody murder. When you're out on a street with other people and your kid is hollering that loudly, they tend to think there's a lot more wrong with her than just a scraped knee. This time around, we only had a couple of blocks to go till home, thank goodness. I carried her part of the way but then had to put her down (she's quickly catching up to me size-wise!) and let her limp/hop the final stretch to the door. She managed to punctuate at least every other hop with a loud agonized "Ow!"
Finally, in exasperation, I asked her to please be a little quieter. "I know it hurts," I said calmly, "but there's no need for you to scream like it's the end of the world."
She lifted an indignant, tear-stained face. "I know it's not the end of the world," she said. "And Mommy, I will NOT scream on the day the world ends. Because then we'll get a new heaven and a new earth and that's a GOOD thing."
Hee. So there.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Three Cheers for Charlotte!
Although we probably-abably-abably all knew it would come to pass, I was still delighted when I saw the number one posting at the 100 Top Children's Book poll today. E.B. White's Charlotte's Web is so deserving of this honor, and any other honors it's ever received. Perhaps the best part was reading all the comments (and Betsy posted every comment she got!) which read like a love song to this loveliest of books.
I think I'm particularly glowing since the sweet girl and I just finished a re-read of Charlotte's Web last week. Every time I read this book aloud again (and I've done it many times, beginning with an out-loud read my sister and I once did on cassette tape for our nephew ~ now grown and married and with kids of his own!) I find myself loving the way the elegant prose flows. We love truly great books not just because they offer characters we care about and a story that compels us to turn pages, but because they have a music of their own. Charlotte's music has to do with the sights and smell of a small barnyard, an unlikely friendship, and the ordinary sweetness of the everyday.
I was especially struck this time through by White's propensity for lists. He frequently moves (I almost said "lapses" but that implies a lack of planned artistry, and I think this artistry is exquisitely planned) into lists of ordinary things: the different kinds of food scraps that make up Wilbur's slops, the paraphernalia of a barn, the "veritable treasure" a rat can find in the garbage at a county fair. Charlotte's Web is full of quiddity: White the storyteller is interested in the bits and pieces that make up the world, the names of things, their particularity. By listing them, he draws our attention to them, making us notice them, picture them, smell them. By listing them, he provides a rhythm that reminds us of poetry, litanies, counting blessings.
And of course these lists come in the context of a story that's all about the human propensity to overlook the ordinary, to take wonders for granted. Charlotte's plan to save Wilbur is necessary because the Zuckermans don't see, as she sees (or as Fern sees in the early chapters, when she's still operating out of a child-like wonder) that Wilbur is a wonderful creature: a lovely pink and white pig with a charming, modest personality, someone who makes a good friend. The Zuckermans look at Wilbur and only see, at least at first, what they can get out of him. They look at Wilbur and see bacon. In the same way, few see Charlotte for what she is: an amazing spinner-artist, someone with a talent for words, an ingenious food-gatherer, a loyal friend. She's just a "common" gray spider (White uses that word to describe her more than once, I think) who spins an ordinary web in the corner of an ordinary barn. She's just a spider -- the kind of creature that little boys like Avery poke at with sticks -- and her web is just a web, the kind we've all swept from ceiling corners with brooms.
Something else that struck me this time around is White's interesting realism. It's funny to talk about realism, perhaps, in a story that features talking animals, but it's there. One of the most difficult parts of the book, I think, and one that gets inevitably altered in every screen version, is the subtle difference we see in Fern at the end of the story. At the beginning, she's "up before dawn to rid the world of injustice" and for months her whole word seems to center on the joy of raising a baby pig. The animals are her best friends, and Fern can see and hear so much that the adults can't. By the end of the book, she's so focused on taking another ferris wheel ride with Henry Fussy (her growing interest in boys is viewed with deep relief by her mother, who spends part of the book wondering if Fern will ever grow up and get out of the barn) that she doesn't even hang around at the grandstand to see Wilbur's greatest triumph.
Does that make you sad? I think it's supposed to, even though I think we're supposed to understand that at least for many people, it's a natural and inevitable part of growing up -- this widening of interests, this turn from the simplicities of early childhood to the complexities of later childhood (and adolescence and adulthood). I also don't think we're supposed to see it as a tragedy: Fern's growing interest in boys may make her, at least for the moment, less in tune with her younger self, more self-absorbed and self-conscious and even a bit less caring (she doesn't even have time to give Wilbur a reassuring pat or a congratulatory hug) but that doesn't mean it will always be the case. Fern doesn't have to get stuck there and there's nothing to indicate she will.
Thankfully most of us aren't "done" growing at eight, or eighteen, or even thirty-eight. We learn about new joys, but we don't have to lose our awareness of or gratitude for the older joys. I'd like to think that, because of her hours spent in the barn listening to animals talk, Fern will grow into an adult with a wider propensity for wonder, the kind of grown-up who can see amazing things in the ordinary...perhaps like E.B. White. And that if she ever has a daughter who gets up at dawn to rid the world of injustice, and who claims that the sheep are talking to her, she'll hug the dickens out of that kid. I find it strange, however, that nobody ever seems to take White to task for the changes he introduces into Fern's character, especially given how similar they are (in some ways) to what C.S. Lewis is saying and doing with the character of Susan Pevensie. For years critics and writers have yelled at Lewis about that, refusing (it often seems to me willfully refusing) to understand what he meant, and often indicating ridiculous things they assume he meant. And never stopping to think about the ways that Susan, shaped by her experiences in Narnia as a child, might yet change and grow as an adult.
Well, I've wandered far afield...but then, a great book will do that to you too. Even the familiar, ordinary books you think you've read so many times that they couldn't possibly contain any more surprises. Maybe especially those.
I think I'm particularly glowing since the sweet girl and I just finished a re-read of Charlotte's Web last week. Every time I read this book aloud again (and I've done it many times, beginning with an out-loud read my sister and I once did on cassette tape for our nephew ~ now grown and married and with kids of his own!) I find myself loving the way the elegant prose flows. We love truly great books not just because they offer characters we care about and a story that compels us to turn pages, but because they have a music of their own. Charlotte's music has to do with the sights and smell of a small barnyard, an unlikely friendship, and the ordinary sweetness of the everyday. I was especially struck this time through by White's propensity for lists. He frequently moves (I almost said "lapses" but that implies a lack of planned artistry, and I think this artistry is exquisitely planned) into lists of ordinary things: the different kinds of food scraps that make up Wilbur's slops, the paraphernalia of a barn, the "veritable treasure" a rat can find in the garbage at a county fair. Charlotte's Web is full of quiddity: White the storyteller is interested in the bits and pieces that make up the world, the names of things, their particularity. By listing them, he draws our attention to them, making us notice them, picture them, smell them. By listing them, he provides a rhythm that reminds us of poetry, litanies, counting blessings.
And of course these lists come in the context of a story that's all about the human propensity to overlook the ordinary, to take wonders for granted. Charlotte's plan to save Wilbur is necessary because the Zuckermans don't see, as she sees (or as Fern sees in the early chapters, when she's still operating out of a child-like wonder) that Wilbur is a wonderful creature: a lovely pink and white pig with a charming, modest personality, someone who makes a good friend. The Zuckermans look at Wilbur and only see, at least at first, what they can get out of him. They look at Wilbur and see bacon. In the same way, few see Charlotte for what she is: an amazing spinner-artist, someone with a talent for words, an ingenious food-gatherer, a loyal friend. She's just a "common" gray spider (White uses that word to describe her more than once, I think) who spins an ordinary web in the corner of an ordinary barn. She's just a spider -- the kind of creature that little boys like Avery poke at with sticks -- and her web is just a web, the kind we've all swept from ceiling corners with brooms.
Something else that struck me this time around is White's interesting realism. It's funny to talk about realism, perhaps, in a story that features talking animals, but it's there. One of the most difficult parts of the book, I think, and one that gets inevitably altered in every screen version, is the subtle difference we see in Fern at the end of the story. At the beginning, she's "up before dawn to rid the world of injustice" and for months her whole word seems to center on the joy of raising a baby pig. The animals are her best friends, and Fern can see and hear so much that the adults can't. By the end of the book, she's so focused on taking another ferris wheel ride with Henry Fussy (her growing interest in boys is viewed with deep relief by her mother, who spends part of the book wondering if Fern will ever grow up and get out of the barn) that she doesn't even hang around at the grandstand to see Wilbur's greatest triumph.
Does that make you sad? I think it's supposed to, even though I think we're supposed to understand that at least for many people, it's a natural and inevitable part of growing up -- this widening of interests, this turn from the simplicities of early childhood to the complexities of later childhood (and adolescence and adulthood). I also don't think we're supposed to see it as a tragedy: Fern's growing interest in boys may make her, at least for the moment, less in tune with her younger self, more self-absorbed and self-conscious and even a bit less caring (she doesn't even have time to give Wilbur a reassuring pat or a congratulatory hug) but that doesn't mean it will always be the case. Fern doesn't have to get stuck there and there's nothing to indicate she will.
Thankfully most of us aren't "done" growing at eight, or eighteen, or even thirty-eight. We learn about new joys, but we don't have to lose our awareness of or gratitude for the older joys. I'd like to think that, because of her hours spent in the barn listening to animals talk, Fern will grow into an adult with a wider propensity for wonder, the kind of grown-up who can see amazing things in the ordinary...perhaps like E.B. White. And that if she ever has a daughter who gets up at dawn to rid the world of injustice, and who claims that the sheep are talking to her, she'll hug the dickens out of that kid. I find it strange, however, that nobody ever seems to take White to task for the changes he introduces into Fern's character, especially given how similar they are (in some ways) to what C.S. Lewis is saying and doing with the character of Susan Pevensie. For years critics and writers have yelled at Lewis about that, refusing (it often seems to me willfully refusing) to understand what he meant, and often indicating ridiculous things they assume he meant. And never stopping to think about the ways that Susan, shaped by her experiences in Narnia as a child, might yet change and grow as an adult.
Well, I've wandered far afield...but then, a great book will do that to you too. Even the familiar, ordinary books you think you've read so many times that they couldn't possibly contain any more surprises. Maybe especially those.
Friday, April 09, 2010
Woo-Hoo for Wrinkle!
Yes! And number 2 in the Top 100 Children's Novels is indeed A Wrinkle in Time. Given my deep love for Madeleine L'Engle's work, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I decided to let out a big "Whoop!" right here.
In fact, let's give this one "O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping." I love that quote, from Shakespeare's As You Like It. And guess where I learned it?
Yep. Thank you, Madeleine.
In fact, let's give this one "O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping." I love that quote, from Shakespeare's As You Like It. And guess where I learned it?
Yep. Thank you, Madeleine.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Hooray for Harry!
Well, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (so nice to see it written with its proper title) came in today at #3 in Fuse #8's Top 100 Children's Novels poll. I had to give it a shout-out here because I was so delighted to see it!
With The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe coming in at #4 yesterday, I am 2 for 2 on my top four predictions, though now a bit out of order. My American/British pattern didn't pan out, but that's okay. It will be fun to see both A Wrinkle in Time and Charlotte's Web in the top two spots (she says with supreme confidence...while she keeps her fingers crossed)!
It's also fun to read people's comments about Harry Potter. Everyone seems nostalgic to remember where they were when they read the first one. When you first fell for Harry, where were you?
With The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe coming in at #4 yesterday, I am 2 for 2 on my top four predictions, though now a bit out of order. My American/British pattern didn't pan out, but that's okay. It will be fun to see both A Wrinkle in Time and Charlotte's Web in the top two spots (she says with supreme confidence...while she keeps her fingers crossed)!
It's also fun to read people's comments about Harry Potter. Everyone seems nostalgic to remember where they were when they read the first one. When you first fell for Harry, where were you?
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Poetry Review: The Mouse of Amherst
I just posted a review of Elizabeth Spire's book The Mouse of Amherst. It's a charming tale told through the eyes of a little white mouse who lives in a hole in the wall in Emily Dickinson's room.
It's been an Emily Dickinson kind of month. With the sweet girl, I read the Emily Dickinson volume in the Poetry for Young People series. Late in the evenings, a bit at a time, I've been watching a video version of Julie Harris' one-woman play The Belle of Amherst, recorded sometime in the late 1970s, I think. It's a fascinating (somehow both funny and sad) portrait of the reclusive genius. I've also been meandering my way through a lovely book called Emily Dickinson's Gardens, as much about her flowers as it is about her life and poems, hence good springtime reading (though it actually cycles through all four seasons).
I'm hoping to pull together a unit study on Dickinson soon, as I keep getting ideas for supplemental activities and learning trails. Some of her poems definitely spoke to the sweet girl, who surprised me by choosing the poem "A Letter to a Bee" (the one that begins "Bee, I'm Expecting You...") for memorization. Not the easiest of Emily's poems to memorize, and yet she's done it and done it well. I think we'll definitely return to Dickinson again in the years to come!
It's been an Emily Dickinson kind of month. With the sweet girl, I read the Emily Dickinson volume in the Poetry for Young People series. Late in the evenings, a bit at a time, I've been watching a video version of Julie Harris' one-woman play The Belle of Amherst, recorded sometime in the late 1970s, I think. It's a fascinating (somehow both funny and sad) portrait of the reclusive genius. I've also been meandering my way through a lovely book called Emily Dickinson's Gardens, as much about her flowers as it is about her life and poems, hence good springtime reading (though it actually cycles through all four seasons).
I'm hoping to pull together a unit study on Dickinson soon, as I keep getting ideas for supplemental activities and learning trails. Some of her poems definitely spoke to the sweet girl, who surprised me by choosing the poem "A Letter to a Bee" (the one that begins "Bee, I'm Expecting You...") for memorization. Not the easiest of Emily's poems to memorize, and yet she's done it and done it well. I think we'll definitely return to Dickinson again in the years to come!
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Patchwork Post
I wasn't sure what to call this post ~ just so many bits and pieces that are too small to make posts of their own!
Fuse #8's 100 Children's Novels countdown is heading into the homestretch. Four spots left, and all four of my "must-be-there" books have yet to be named. So once again I'm predicting/hoping that here's what we'll see, counting down from 4-1: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; A Wrinkle in Time; Sorcerer's Stone; Charlotte's Web. I actually have no clue about order and am basing my predictions on the random thoughts that a) I've had a funny feeling all along that Charlotte/Sorcerer would come in as 1 and 2 (and my husband reached the same conclusion independently, leading me to believe we can't both be wrong!) and b) if the American/British pattern holds for books in the first two spots, it may hold for books in the third and fourth spots as well. I know...that makes little logical sense. Just humor me!
The sweet girl is loving the 30 Poets/30 Days over at Gotta Book. Just like last year, one poem in particular has totally captured her imagination. This year it's the poem "Re:Me" by Calef Brown. She's read it five or six times (and it's a long poem) and chortles her way through every time. We both appreciate its sense of fun, clever rhymes and wordplay. She's now trying to write a funny poem in imitation. Last night she got down from the dinner table and brought back paper and pencil. "I need to begin writing my poem," she explained. And then she asked, "Does it have to have punctuation in it?"
The taxes are alllmoooossstt done. Have I mentioned how much I don't enjoy having to work out self-employment taxes? And yet I love the freedom of working from home, which allows me to do other things I love, like homeschool. So I will try not to complain. Though I must say that I did a lot of sighing over the utterly un-downloadable forms on the state website. All I really have to do tonight is assemble the forms, write the checks, and make copies for the files. And I can do that while...
watching Scarecrow and Mrs. King! How utterly delighted I was to get the Season 1 DVD (which for some reason had never been released until this year) from my sister for my birthday. Scarecrow is just about my favorite television show of all time, perhaps recently dethroned by LOST (though let me wait on that judgment until the finale) and it's been so much fun to see these early episodes again. I even finally got to see the season 1 Christmas show, one of the few episodes of the entire series I'd never seen. Like the rest of them, it was sweet and sentimental in that wonderful early 1980s/Cold War/spy adventure sort of way.
I'm in a real reviewing slump at present, but last week did finally post my review of Eric Metaxas' book Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery. If you know anyone looking for an introduction to the life and work of the great Wilberforce (perhaps someone who saw the recent movie and is intrigued to know more) point them to this excellent book.
Sherry over at Semicolon kicked off her classical poems postings with a reflection on Psalm 23. That happened to be on the list of favorites I sent her. She's going to be posting about poems that got multiple votes/mentions, and in chronological order. I especially smiled to see that she posted a link to Keith Green singing "The Lord is My Shepherd." This Easter week has definitely been colored by Keith's music for us, especially this live recording of "The Victor" on youtube. I both tear up and smile whenever I watch it.
Fuse #8's 100 Children's Novels countdown is heading into the homestretch. Four spots left, and all four of my "must-be-there" books have yet to be named. So once again I'm predicting/hoping that here's what we'll see, counting down from 4-1: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; A Wrinkle in Time; Sorcerer's Stone; Charlotte's Web. I actually have no clue about order and am basing my predictions on the random thoughts that a) I've had a funny feeling all along that Charlotte/Sorcerer would come in as 1 and 2 (and my husband reached the same conclusion independently, leading me to believe we can't both be wrong!) and b) if the American/British pattern holds for books in the first two spots, it may hold for books in the third and fourth spots as well. I know...that makes little logical sense. Just humor me!
The sweet girl is loving the 30 Poets/30 Days over at Gotta Book. Just like last year, one poem in particular has totally captured her imagination. This year it's the poem "Re:Me" by Calef Brown. She's read it five or six times (and it's a long poem) and chortles her way through every time. We both appreciate its sense of fun, clever rhymes and wordplay. She's now trying to write a funny poem in imitation. Last night she got down from the dinner table and brought back paper and pencil. "I need to begin writing my poem," she explained. And then she asked, "Does it have to have punctuation in it?"
The taxes are alllmoooossstt done. Have I mentioned how much I don't enjoy having to work out self-employment taxes? And yet I love the freedom of working from home, which allows me to do other things I love, like homeschool. So I will try not to complain. Though I must say that I did a lot of sighing over the utterly un-downloadable forms on the state website. All I really have to do tonight is assemble the forms, write the checks, and make copies for the files. And I can do that while...
watching Scarecrow and Mrs. King! How utterly delighted I was to get the Season 1 DVD (which for some reason had never been released until this year) from my sister for my birthday. Scarecrow is just about my favorite television show of all time, perhaps recently dethroned by LOST (though let me wait on that judgment until the finale) and it's been so much fun to see these early episodes again. I even finally got to see the season 1 Christmas show, one of the few episodes of the entire series I'd never seen. Like the rest of them, it was sweet and sentimental in that wonderful early 1980s/Cold War/spy adventure sort of way.
I'm in a real reviewing slump at present, but last week did finally post my review of Eric Metaxas' book Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery. If you know anyone looking for an introduction to the life and work of the great Wilberforce (perhaps someone who saw the recent movie and is intrigued to know more) point them to this excellent book.
Sherry over at Semicolon kicked off her classical poems postings with a reflection on Psalm 23. That happened to be on the list of favorites I sent her. She's going to be posting about poems that got multiple votes/mentions, and in chronological order. I especially smiled to see that she posted a link to Keith Green singing "The Lord is My Shepherd." This Easter week has definitely been colored by Keith's music for us, especially this live recording of "The Victor" on youtube. I both tear up and smile whenever I watch it.
Monday, April 05, 2010
Poetry Postcard 2: Synchronicity and Process
I’m loving the synchronicity of my daily forays into poetry this month. Yesterday I checked in at Poetic Asides for the prompt of the day, which happened to be “write a history poem.” It could be the history of anything. I remembered my rough draft attempt, a few years back, to write a poem about my personal history (based on this template ~ the “Where I'm From” poem) and thought it might be fun to try to capture similar roots by writing a poem called “A Selective History of Me.”
What form that might have taken I don’t know, but then I stumbled upon this post at Wild Rose Reader, celebrating list poems. I think I’ve had poetic lists on the brain lately, since I’m re-reading Charlotte’s Web to the sweet girl…and E.B. White does delight in lists. Though his lists come in the midst of prose, they are their own bits of poetry. I decided I would try writing a list poem about my life.
The process has been interesting so far. I set out with no specific thoughts about how to shape the list, what limits to place on it. I began with an image from the day I came home from the hospital, an image of a welcome home banner on the wall of my family’s living room. I’ve actually seen that image in old home movies taken on Dad’s old Super-8 movie camera. Since I was starting at the beginning, my homecoming as a baby, the list began to flow naturally from there and move forward chronologically. The stanzas began to break themselves naturally into seasons of my life: babyhood and preschool, early school years, etc. I hadn’t consciously made the decision to do that, but it seemed to make sense, and I could tell (by my swift crossings-out, when I sensed that events or images felt out of order) that chronology matters to this poem.
So does concreteness. At first I toyed with naming significant people in my life, or at least significant relationships somehow, but it soon became clear that I needed to stick primarily to images (sights, sounds, smells) and artifacts. It’s been interesting to sense how many people and events stand behind those things, and to pick and choose which ones matter most. It’s also been interesting to note how much easier it was to zero in on a few key images from childhood. The farther I go into the past, the more starkly a few key images or events stand out as the ones I remember best or feel formed me most. The closer I get to the current-day, the more cluttered and richly layered things get, and the harder it is to pick and choose. I do find myself returning, like a migrating bird, to certain kinds of images, especially those drawn from nature and from books. And some recurring bits of language are cropping up as I revise, lending the whole exercise a bit more structure.
And then of course I found this quote, from poet Gene Fehler, over at the Poetry Makers series: “As far as ideas for writing poems, my favorite way to begin is to think of these four words: "What I remember most" -- and go from there.”
Sweet synchronicity.
What form that might have taken I don’t know, but then I stumbled upon this post at Wild Rose Reader, celebrating list poems. I think I’ve had poetic lists on the brain lately, since I’m re-reading Charlotte’s Web to the sweet girl…and E.B. White does delight in lists. Though his lists come in the midst of prose, they are their own bits of poetry. I decided I would try writing a list poem about my life.
The process has been interesting so far. I set out with no specific thoughts about how to shape the list, what limits to place on it. I began with an image from the day I came home from the hospital, an image of a welcome home banner on the wall of my family’s living room. I’ve actually seen that image in old home movies taken on Dad’s old Super-8 movie camera. Since I was starting at the beginning, my homecoming as a baby, the list began to flow naturally from there and move forward chronologically. The stanzas began to break themselves naturally into seasons of my life: babyhood and preschool, early school years, etc. I hadn’t consciously made the decision to do that, but it seemed to make sense, and I could tell (by my swift crossings-out, when I sensed that events or images felt out of order) that chronology matters to this poem.
So does concreteness. At first I toyed with naming significant people in my life, or at least significant relationships somehow, but it soon became clear that I needed to stick primarily to images (sights, sounds, smells) and artifacts. It’s been interesting to sense how many people and events stand behind those things, and to pick and choose which ones matter most. It’s also been interesting to note how much easier it was to zero in on a few key images from childhood. The farther I go into the past, the more starkly a few key images or events stand out as the ones I remember best or feel formed me most. The closer I get to the current-day, the more cluttered and richly layered things get, and the harder it is to pick and choose. I do find myself returning, like a migrating bird, to certain kinds of images, especially those drawn from nature and from books. And some recurring bits of language are cropping up as I revise, lending the whole exercise a bit more structure.
And then of course I found this quote, from poet Gene Fehler, over at the Poetry Makers series: “As far as ideas for writing poems, my favorite way to begin is to think of these four words: "What I remember most" -- and go from there.”
Sweet synchronicity.
Easter Monday Gratitude
It's been a while since I've posted a Monday blessings list. I thought I'd jump right in with gratitude on this Easter Monday!
So grateful for:
45) Easter! Not just this particular Easter day, though it was a beautiful one. But for Easter life...the risen life of our Lord, who defeated death once and for all, and who reigns in victory! I am especially thankful that he invites me into the power and joy of his risen life.
46) The sweet girl's joy upon receiving her first Communion yesterday. It was such a lovely moment, and such a right one. After prayer, we decided to use this Lent as special preparation time with her. The preparation time was good, and when the time came yesterday to go forward, and our priest spoke the welcome to the table, her face was just alight with joy. I loved seeing her listen so intently all during Holy Week, and really move into the joy of the resurrection yesterday. Is there anything more beautiful than seeing your child's hands cupped to receive the bread?
47) Spring, spring, spring! Did I mention it's really spring? Sunshine, daffodils, budding trees, and the beauty of the rain.
48) My birthday week before last. Yes, it has been a while since I've posted a gratitude list, and I had so much to be thankful for on this particular birthday. Most especially the love of my wonderful husband and daughter, who gave me such a beautiful day. Breakfast in bed (bagel, juice and cereal drowned in milk by my seven year old!) and a gorgeous morning/afternoon at Phipps Conservatory, my favorite birthday tradition. We were able to do it this year because of a thoughtful gift from my parents. Other gifts, loving notes, and cards made the day so special. And yes, it was capped off by Chinese food and a homemade cake.
49) My parents 56th wedding anniversary just a few days before my birthday. And my mom also just turned 78. I am so blessed that they are healthy and vigorous and happy, enjoying life, each other and the Lord. As my Dad told me the other day, he feels like every day is a gift.
50) Miraculous provision, right when we needed it. Our financial struggles are so stressful and of such long duration, I try not to mention them here. But I have to recount the marvelous works of God! Sometimes our ongoing, long-term stresses meet short-term crisis/needs. We had one of those times lately. Hardly before we'd had time to pray, and thankfully before I'd had time to slip into a huge stretch of anxiety (my tendency) provision arrived. It was amazing...down almost to the exact penny of what we needed. Except, of course, that the Lord (in his beautiful way) gave just a little extra. About seven dollars extra! Most of all, he used loving friends to bless us, showing us again the beauty of his body.
So much to be thankful for this Easter Monday.
So grateful for:
45) Easter! Not just this particular Easter day, though it was a beautiful one. But for Easter life...the risen life of our Lord, who defeated death once and for all, and who reigns in victory! I am especially thankful that he invites me into the power and joy of his risen life.
46) The sweet girl's joy upon receiving her first Communion yesterday. It was such a lovely moment, and such a right one. After prayer, we decided to use this Lent as special preparation time with her. The preparation time was good, and when the time came yesterday to go forward, and our priest spoke the welcome to the table, her face was just alight with joy. I loved seeing her listen so intently all during Holy Week, and really move into the joy of the resurrection yesterday. Is there anything more beautiful than seeing your child's hands cupped to receive the bread?
47) Spring, spring, spring! Did I mention it's really spring? Sunshine, daffodils, budding trees, and the beauty of the rain.
48) My birthday week before last. Yes, it has been a while since I've posted a gratitude list, and I had so much to be thankful for on this particular birthday. Most especially the love of my wonderful husband and daughter, who gave me such a beautiful day. Breakfast in bed (bagel, juice and cereal drowned in milk by my seven year old!) and a gorgeous morning/afternoon at Phipps Conservatory, my favorite birthday tradition. We were able to do it this year because of a thoughtful gift from my parents. Other gifts, loving notes, and cards made the day so special. And yes, it was capped off by Chinese food and a homemade cake.
49) My parents 56th wedding anniversary just a few days before my birthday. And my mom also just turned 78. I am so blessed that they are healthy and vigorous and happy, enjoying life, each other and the Lord. As my Dad told me the other day, he feels like every day is a gift.
50) Miraculous provision, right when we needed it. Our financial struggles are so stressful and of such long duration, I try not to mention them here. But I have to recount the marvelous works of God! Sometimes our ongoing, long-term stresses meet short-term crisis/needs. We had one of those times lately. Hardly before we'd had time to pray, and thankfully before I'd had time to slip into a huge stretch of anxiety (my tendency) provision arrived. It was amazing...down almost to the exact penny of what we needed. Except, of course, that the Lord (in his beautiful way) gave just a little extra. About seven dollars extra! Most of all, he used loving friends to bless us, showing us again the beauty of his body.
So much to be thankful for this Easter Monday.
Saturday, April 03, 2010
Poetry and Holy Week
Perhaps more than any other week in the year, Holy Week invites us into the gospel story. As we walk through the week, we step into the story of the final week of Jesus' life and walk through it again: watching, listening, remembering, mourning, loving, praying, confessing, and finally celebrating.
Over the years I've discovered that one of my natural responses to the rhythm of Holy Week is writing, especially the writing of poetry. Most especially the writing of narrative poetry, where I imagine scenes from that final week of our Savior's life on earth, or where I step into the scene in some way.
This year, after listening to a powerful Maundy Thursday sermon, I found myself contemplating how lonely Jesus must have felt in the garden, especially following moments of such deep communion and fellowship in the upper room. Our pastor described the events of the Last Supper as "the eye of the storm" -- so much conflict and pain swirls around that event, both before and especially after, but in many ways the supper itself is a moment of relative peace and calm, as Jesus prepares his friends for what lies ahead and helps them understand what he is about to do.
I found myself thinking about the moments immediately after the Last Supper, as Jesus and the disciples left the upper room and headed toward the garden, back toward the raging storm. This poem (still a draft) is the result. I hope it blesses you on this Holy Saturday evening. And I pray that you will have a joyous celebration of the resurrection tomorrow morning! Oh how he loves us!
********
The door to the upstairs room
shuts behind them.
The last one out closes it softly,
as though to capture echoes
of the last hymn.
Notes reverberate in their minds,
hum in their hearts,
as silently they file down the stairs,
one by one,
each trekking carefully in the footsteps
of the One ahead,
listening for his voice.
They think they know where
they are going
but aren't fully sure until they see
the looming shapes of olive trees,
dark branches even darker
than the starlit sky above.
He has come to pray --
for guidance, strength, help --
and they mean to keep him company,
to accompany his prayers
with their own whispered petitions.
Only the night is growing cold,
and fear, wonder, sorrow
all press like a blanket
around their wine-warmed bodies
which one by one
drop down and rest --
just for a minute --
only to be dragged beneath
an ocean of sleep.
He is alone. He is left to think
about the cup just handed around
the table, the cup from which
all drank, the literal cup
he will not drink again
until another feast,
far distant but assured.
He is alone, though not alone,
as his prayers rise
like incense in the starry night,
the calm before the storm,
the moment before the breaking wave,
the clutching hand of earth
clasped in the strong hand of heaven.
He feels taut, alert, alive in every
muscle, every sinew, gritty-eyed with pain.
He glances at his scattered friends
who love him so, who mean so well.
But with the world about to quake,
not one of them has stayed awake.
(EMP, 4/2010)
Over the years I've discovered that one of my natural responses to the rhythm of Holy Week is writing, especially the writing of poetry. Most especially the writing of narrative poetry, where I imagine scenes from that final week of our Savior's life on earth, or where I step into the scene in some way.
This year, after listening to a powerful Maundy Thursday sermon, I found myself contemplating how lonely Jesus must have felt in the garden, especially following moments of such deep communion and fellowship in the upper room. Our pastor described the events of the Last Supper as "the eye of the storm" -- so much conflict and pain swirls around that event, both before and especially after, but in many ways the supper itself is a moment of relative peace and calm, as Jesus prepares his friends for what lies ahead and helps them understand what he is about to do.
I found myself thinking about the moments immediately after the Last Supper, as Jesus and the disciples left the upper room and headed toward the garden, back toward the raging storm. This poem (still a draft) is the result. I hope it blesses you on this Holy Saturday evening. And I pray that you will have a joyous celebration of the resurrection tomorrow morning! Oh how he loves us!
********
The door to the upstairs room
shuts behind them.
The last one out closes it softly,
as though to capture echoes
of the last hymn.
Notes reverberate in their minds,
hum in their hearts,
as silently they file down the stairs,
one by one,
each trekking carefully in the footsteps
of the One ahead,
listening for his voice.
They think they know where
they are going
but aren't fully sure until they see
the looming shapes of olive trees,
dark branches even darker
than the starlit sky above.
He has come to pray --
for guidance, strength, help --
and they mean to keep him company,
to accompany his prayers
with their own whispered petitions.
Only the night is growing cold,
and fear, wonder, sorrow
all press like a blanket
around their wine-warmed bodies
which one by one
drop down and rest --
just for a minute --
only to be dragged beneath
an ocean of sleep.
He is alone. He is left to think
about the cup just handed around
the table, the cup from which
all drank, the literal cup
he will not drink again
until another feast,
far distant but assured.
He is alone, though not alone,
as his prayers rise
like incense in the starry night,
the calm before the storm,
the moment before the breaking wave,
the clutching hand of earth
clasped in the strong hand of heaven.
He feels taut, alert, alive in every
muscle, every sinew, gritty-eyed with pain.
He glances at his scattered friends
who love him so, who mean so well.
But with the world about to quake,
not one of them has stayed awake.
(EMP, 4/2010)
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Poetry Postcard 1
I've been trying to think about how I'd like to post during this poetry month. As promised, I'll be posting links to some favorite places in the blogosphere where I'll be stopping and visiting and reading during April. But I don't just want to post links, many of which you can pick up elsewhere anyway (including some round-ups with lists).
What struck me as a I contemplated how I enjoyed poetry month last year, and how I meandered, enjoyed and ruminated on first of the month poetry posts this morning, is that I often find myself delighting in small snippets. Lines from poems, or lines from poets talking about poetry, often seem to jump out and grab me. Last year I sometimes jotted those lines down in my journal, though more often than not I simply noted them mentally and rushed on. This year I'd like to be more intentional about capturing some of those moments that celebrate language and the love of language.
And I decided it would be fun to share them. So think of these poetry posts as postcards. I may only have time to jot a few lines, but jot I will -- and I will send them off into cyberspace where I hope you will enjoy them too.
Today's postcard comes courtesy of The Miss Rumphius Effect, which is reprising its wonderful "Poetry Makers" interview series this month. This year Tricia kicked off with an interview with Mary Ann Hoberman, current children's poet laureate (or as she calls her "the big kahuna"). Lots of wonderful things in that interview, especially on the importance of sharing poetry with children and the joys of poetry memorization. But I think my favorite line was this:
"...a poem is an object made out of words that carries, like a brimful cup, the mystery of language."
A brimful cup of the mystery of language. Can't you see a chipped, thick handled-mug, heaped up with words, frothy as whipped cream? Or perhaps a crystal clear glass, full of something cool and refreshing, the words clinking around like ice cubes or sliding down the sides in tiny streams of condensation.
Happy Poetry Month!
What struck me as a I contemplated how I enjoyed poetry month last year, and how I meandered, enjoyed and ruminated on first of the month poetry posts this morning, is that I often find myself delighting in small snippets. Lines from poems, or lines from poets talking about poetry, often seem to jump out and grab me. Last year I sometimes jotted those lines down in my journal, though more often than not I simply noted them mentally and rushed on. This year I'd like to be more intentional about capturing some of those moments that celebrate language and the love of language.
And I decided it would be fun to share them. So think of these poetry posts as postcards. I may only have time to jot a few lines, but jot I will -- and I will send them off into cyberspace where I hope you will enjoy them too.
Today's postcard comes courtesy of The Miss Rumphius Effect, which is reprising its wonderful "Poetry Makers" interview series this month. This year Tricia kicked off with an interview with Mary Ann Hoberman, current children's poet laureate (or as she calls her "the big kahuna"). Lots of wonderful things in that interview, especially on the importance of sharing poetry with children and the joys of poetry memorization. But I think my favorite line was this:
"...a poem is an object made out of words that carries, like a brimful cup, the mystery of language."
A brimful cup of the mystery of language. Can't you see a chipped, thick handled-mug, heaped up with words, frothy as whipped cream? Or perhaps a crystal clear glass, full of something cool and refreshing, the words clinking around like ice cubes or sliding down the sides in tiny streams of condensation.
Happy Poetry Month!
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