Even though February was a short month, and despite all the snow we shoveled within those four weeks, I somehow managed to read a few books. Here’s my quick rundown:
Loitering, by Charles D’Ambrosio (essays) — I have been really enjoying essays over the past year or so, and this collection did not disappoint. The writing—the vocabulary, even—is quite remarkable. Indeed, it is the book that prompted me to purchase a new thesaurus. Some of the essays are dark and uncomfortable, but D’Ambrosio offers so much depth, nuance, and keen observation that you find yourself immersed in places that you likely would never find yourself, like a disturbing haunted house or thinking about Mary Kay Letourneau. They were all much like living the experiences first hand which, to me, is the mark of a really great writer. The only one I did not care for was Salinger and Sobs, but that was solely because I barely remember what Catcher in the Rye was about and so I felt a little lost when he used the book in the context of describing his brothers’ deaths. I will certainly re-read this collection again at some point, even if just to be awed by the eloquent prose.
Being Mortal, Atul Gawande (nonfiction) — I already reviewed this important and well-written book on the blog, and you can read it here.
Ticket to Childhood, Nguyen Nhat Anh (fiction/translation from Vietnamese) — I have to be honest, I found this story to fall a bit short of what I was hoping for based on the jacket description (“a sly and lovely story about what we lose when we grow up”). Maybe I missed something (totally possible) but it felt a tad disjointed. There were certainly a few very profound passages, but the story as a whole just didn’t do it for me (which, now thinking back, has happened for me on a number of translated stories).
Almost Famous Women, Megan Mayhew Bergman (short stories/historical fiction) — In addition to essays, I am favoring short story collections these days. I really liked the variety of short stories about largely unknown women in the past. Some of the women were not likable and surprisingly that’s what I loved when coming across those kinds of characters in this book. My favorite story in the collection was The Autobiography of Allegra Byron; the emotional turmoil endured by Allegra’s caretaker, a woman who’d lost her own daughter to typhus, really came across the page, as did life in the abbey where the little girl was sent to live. I will defer a more thorough review to this one done by NPR, which is what first compelled me to buy the book.
The Drunken Botanist, Amy Stewart (nonfiction) — If you are interested in the history of various alcoholic spirits (gin, wine, tequila, beer, elderflower liqueur, etc.) and love plant life/gardening, this is a great book. It covers a wide range of spirits (many I’d never heard of) and how plant life is responsible for each of them. I purchased it for my iPad when BookBub offered it on sale a few months ago. Since I don’t read a whole lot on my iPad, I’ve been chipping away at this one here and there and finally finished it (I could never seem to read it all in one go). I think this would be great to have on a bookshelf devoted to gardening or food/drink rather than on an iPad, and would make a great gift book too.
The Five Moral Pieces, Umberto Eco (essays) — This line on the back of the book is why I picked it up for a read: “What does it mean to be moral or ethical when one doesn’t believe in God?” The back cover also declares that the underlying subject of the five essays is “the ethics involved with inhabiting this diverse and extraordinary world.” Hmmm. Honestly? I read one of the five essays, and skimmed (super fast) the other four. I enjoyed the one I read (When the Other Appears on the Scene) because it mulled over the question above and gave me much to ponder and note in the margin. The other four were just of no interest to me (that became apparent about four or five paragraphs in).
What I’m currently reading:
Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion, Sam Harris (part memoir/part exploration of the scientific underpinnings of spirituality, according to the jacket)
Sweetland, Michael Crummey (novel)
What did you read this month? Anything you recommend?
Copyright (c) 2015 Kristen M. Ploetz
When I think about my parents reading books when I was young, I seem to recall my father with a book in his hands more so than my mother. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening on her end, I just have more vivid memories of him reading books versus the magazines I remember her reading.
I don’t remember a bookshelf in the house, but I’m sure a few were stacked here and there. I remember paperbacks in their bedroom and in the family room, though not always certain who was actually reading a particular one. Robin Cook novels especially come to mind, with their vividly colored (or morbid) covers. The more graphic portions of Looking for Mr. Goodbar were the source of much tween curiosity when I happened to stumble upon that book one time. I don’t recall going to any bookstores, either for my parents or for my brother and me, though we must have because we certainly had our own books around the house.
We did, however, frequent the local library a lot, especially in upstate New York when we lived there. I was an early reader and craved books, but more than that, I think we went often because it was something for my mother (a stay-at-home mom most of my childhood) to do with us.
I remember two children’s books in particular so very well. They were, I dare say, the catalysts that likely solidified my love for reading and books. The first, I took out from the Kingston Public Library—and, I’m ashamed to admit, is still with us to this day, unearthed long ago during packing for a move. It was a lovely but sad story that moved me very deeply: Stories From A Snowy Meadow, written by Carla Stevens and illustrated by Eve Rice. I think it’s out of print now, sadly. It was the first book that ever made me cry. That a story can move a child like that, and still be prominent in the mind of the 40 year old version of the same person, is nothing short of extraordinary to me.
The second book that I remember is more for the conditions I read it under—sweltering hot summer spent mostly in my parents’ bedroom, the only room with air conditioning—as well as the immediacy with which it sucked me in: Konrad: The Factory Made Boy, written by Christine Nostlinger. I didn’t know this at the time, but (thank you, Internet) it was initially a German book translated into English. Sadly, it too seems to be out of print (both in its first 1976 version “Konrad”, and in the later 1999 “Conrad” version), and since I did return this one to the West Hurley Library, I don’t have a copy to read to M. But, that story. Man, I remember just being so consumed by what was essentially my first unputdownable book. Exhilarating and memorable to say the least.
I think the primary thing I am most grateful for from my parents is their teaching me how to read (and by age 4 at that) and giving me the love of books. It is probably the singular thing I am most eager to impress upon my own daughter, above all else. It doesn’t matter what life path you take. If you learn to read and love books, you can go anywhere.
When I think of the similarities and differences between books in my childhood home and what M observes around here, I tick off quite a few differences. First, the sheer number of books in this house is far greater than what was around growing up. Any horizontal surface that has bookshelf potential has become one, and baskets do double duty in more than one room for the overflow. Even M’s own collection is bursting at the seams of her built-in book shelves in her room. I am constantly conjuring up plans for my own set of built-ins in the living room (and it’s gonna happen!). This is all because I have somewhat of a problem with buying books. I can’t stop. My “to-read” and “am reading” pile contains, no joke, 27 books right now, and that doesn’t even count the four I just brought home from the library the other day.
Here’s just what’s in my bedroom at the moment:
Another big difference is that we seem to buy a lot more books than I did growing up. I would much rather spend money on books than toys, and that’s largely what we’ve done for the past 6+ years; most of her toys, save for a few at her birthday and Christmas, are from family and friends. Instead, “treats” from us throughout the year are books. We are fortunate to be able to do this, and I do it because I know that many are going downhill to cousins and such in the coming years. But I also want to build a small collection of “keepsake” books for M to hold on to for as long as she wants, and so there are plenty that are given special storage status. That’s something that I wish I had from my childhood. Whatever books I did own are long gone.
Lately though, we have bought fewer and increased our time at the library because she likes to read the longer books just once and then move on to something else. Obviously, that gets expensive if you’re buying, and so we go at least once a week and take out a big pile of books. She’s usually read all of the picture books and easy readers before we get dinner on the table, and leaves the longer chapter books for us to read to her at night. Here’s this week’s haul:
Also, M has a much greater chance of seeing me reading around the house rather than her dad. This is the opposite of what I remember for myself. My husband does read, but it’s primarily on the T to work when he’s out of sight (and occasionally on vacation). I, on the other hand, will usually grab a book or magazine in any free moments when she’s around doing something else. I’m also the one, through default of being with her more, that tends to read to her during the day and take her to the library. We both read to her at night before bed though. I know that my parents obviously must have read to me a lot when I was younger, but I cannot recall specific rituals about it. For M, since the time she was about a month or two old, both of us take turns reading to her before bed literally every single night (unless one of us is out for a meeting or traveling). It is sacred to her and us. I really hope she remembers that time as much as I will when she’s older.
The last difference that I have noticed is when I am on an iPad to read. Obviously that was not an option for my parents. And, quite frankly, I’m not entirely excited about it now. I don’t read all of my books on the iPad (maybe only 30-40%, if that), but the bottom line is that it looks identical to the times when I am using it for Twitter or Internet research. This bothers me a bit. There is something to be said for seeing your parents, who are your first role models, holding an actual book. This is where I struggle with the advent of technology that is clearly not going away. Maybe she will read all of her books as an adult (or even parent perhaps) on a device. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I don’t know but it’s a thing, for sure, and I’m not clear about its implications in the context of teaching and modeling a love for books and reading to children. It’s why I’ve made a more conscious effort lately for these early years to try and limit my iPad reading (and use) to when she’s not around. We also have not entered device reading territory for her yet, though I imagine those days will cease at some point.
But the one thing that is the same is the love for books. She has it already, especially now that she’s discovered chapter books that come in a series. She gets quite attached to the characters. When she was a little younger, she got really attached to certain authors, like Kevin Henkes and Cynthia Rylant. I like that. Currently she is zipping through the Ivy+Bean series, and we’ve started a few new series this week. It reminds me of when I loved virtually everything that Judy Blume wrote, the only author I can specifically recall reading as a child (somehow the Beverly Cleary books did not enter my radar screen).
She knows already that books can take you places and help you make sense of the world, in many cases when you are not able to do that entirely yourself. They make great travel companions and excuses to stay in. They keep you company when your bucket of friends is empty. They become social currency that allow us to engage with other like minded bibliophiles. I hope this is what she takes away from books, just like I did.
What about you? Did you see a lot of books and reading when you were growing up? Do you recall a childhood favorite? How do you incorporate books into your daily life with your own children now? Do you, or they, read on a device, and how’s that going?
Copyright (c) 2014 Kristen M. Ploetz
In honor of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I’ve come up with a blog miniseries. Each Friday in May and June, I’ll briefly explore a different facet of media or pop culture that I witnessed at home during my childhood, and compare it to what’s happening at my home now with my daughter.
I wonder: how does our parents’ consumption/appreciation/indifference toward certain bits of culture ultimately shape us? What gets carried forward to the new generation? That is, what do we present to our own children? Will we distill, dilute, or design anew these parts of who we are?
More on the miniseries in a minute. First, let me tell you how I came up with the idea.
My mother watched M overnight a few weekends ago while E and I carved out some much needed “us time” in Boston. Great hotel, food and drinks that we did not have to prepare, some interesting art (seriously, Boston folks, go check out the current exhibit of William Kentridge, The Refusal of Time—it is quite mesmerizing, and that’s coming from an admittedly tentative modern art neophyte), uninterrupted sleep . . . the works. Truth be told, it was hard to come home. But when we did, I noticed (after my mother had left) this magazine in the canvas bin of books next to my side of the bed where she must have slept:
I flipped through it briefly. Although there are seemingly more pages dedicated to pharmaceutical ads than the latest fad in buttercream frostings, I was immediately thrust back into my childhood. It’s not the kind of magazine that I would now buy myself, but it reminded me of how this magazine and Woman’s Day were staples in my mother’s reading arsenal. Maybe there were others too, perhaps Good Housekeeping or Better Homes and Gardens, but these two stick way out in my memory. I don’t think my mother subscribed, but picked them up at the grocery store instead. They were constantly around for our reading consumption, and, I think, the reason that I have always loved reading magazines my whole life too.
What’s not to love about a magazine? Glossy photos of fun things, educational (usually) or helpful in some regard, the varied voices of the writers, easy to consume in intervals, and no long-term commitment needed considering the usual length of the articles. My favorite thing to do at the airport is to go to the newsstand and figure out which one(s) to take on board. It’s why I must avoid walking down the magazine aisle at the pharmacy, because I know they are hard to resist. I think it’s also why I favor the essay format of writing above all else.
I used to read one magazine (Orion) electronically, but there was something about that format that didn’t work for me. I like the tangible aspects of paper magazines (however, I feel differently about books; I probably read about 30-40% of them electronically these days). So, like my childhood home, there are plenty of magazines scattered about.
What struck me though, the more I thought about it, is that the magazines that I currently read and subscribe to are vastly different than the kinds of magazines that were in my home growing up. The ones my mother read were full of ideas to implement around the home, whether it be a fun craft do with us or a new chicken recipe to try. Sure, there were inevitably “it happened to me” kinds of features too, but on the whole these magazines were filled with things to make our home life even more wonderful! colorful! tasty! and fun! than it already was. To me, that almost seems like too much pressure. But you know what? I also remember those coconut bunny cakes she used to make too, probably inspired by the very magazines that I tend to reject. This is where I revere my mother—the parts of her that I am not.
Notably, I think it’s telling that the periodicals I presently peruse do not suggest any kind of domestic improvements (with the exception, perhaps, of the one gardening magazine I receive). I used to subscribe to two cooking magazines, but after years of clipping recipes and never trying a single one, I felt like an unambitious failure in the face of those dusty paper squares sitting on the shelf. Not surprisingly, I cancelled those subscriptions.
Right now I subscribe to these:*
Each of these magazines is largely about what other people are doing; there is very little in the way of practical, “use it at home” advice. I almost never watch the news anymore. I like in-depth journalism and so magazines (and a good does of NPR) satisfies that craving. Plus, two of these (Poets & Writers and Taproot) are decidedly read only to help me improve the writer me, myself, and I. Selfish? I don’t think so. But certainly not the kind of thing my mom was reading in her magazines, which was largely to improve our entire household, not just one of the inhabitants.
Moreover, another difference between what I read and what my mother did is that there is quite a range of material here. Not all of it, I’m now finding, is suitable to leave around with a 6.5 year old girl in the house. Not to mention, she is reading text more readily and easily without us these days, and will ask what some words are if she cannot decode them herself. In particular, I’ve had to make sure that TIME is not completely filled with graphic photos of bloody massacres or catastrophes that she is not ready to digest yet when she asks to flip through a copy. I’ve increasingly begun to question what effect, if any, the images in Vanity Fair might have on her body image and self-esteem, if not now then certainly as she gets older (her only interest in this one right now is those awful perfume samples…blech!). I don’t want to censor her reading, but it does still need to be age appropriate given how young she still is. Perhaps that is the biggest difference between the magazines that I was surrounded by, and the ones that my daughter sees on a regular basis: there was virtually no controversial or questionable content in the ones my mom read. I’d never really thought about that before until seeing that Family Circle in my book bin.
Even though the ones we each favor are vastly different, I see a similarity between my mother and me in that we both love reading magazines (then and now). Given that M seems to be like me in that she also constantly craves new information and reading material, I wonder if she will take to magazines like I did. If she does, I wonder whether she will favor the lighter, more practical pieces found in the ones my mom tends to favor, or the heavier, drier thinkpieces that I do? Will she focus on improving her own life and home, or will she want to learn more about the external world and its myriad viewpoints around her? Will she be more comfortable with electronic magazines than I currently am? It will be interesting to see as time marches on.
What about your home then and now—were there magazines? How does the availability of online content (vs. print material) change the dynamic of access for our children?
Now for the rest of May and June. Here’s what I plan to compare and contrast over the next several Fridays. I hope you will come back and chime in about what similarities/differences you see between your childhood home and the one you and/or your child is living in now.
May 9 – Books
May 16 – Music
May 23 – Sports/fitness
May 30 – Art
June 6 – Television
June 13 – Movies
June 20 – Telephones/communication with friends
June 27 – Hobbies/pastimes
* Full disclosure: I am a regular, paid contributor to Modern Farmer’s online magazine/website, but not its quarterly print version you see here. I subscribe to/personally pay for this magazine myself both for personal and professional interest alike because it is really well done.
Copyright (c) 2014 Kristen M. Ploetz
In November, I reviewed the first two books in the Fairy Bell Sisters series, written by Margaret McNamara and illustrated by Julia Denos. We just finished books 3 and 4 in the series (Book 5 is due out in May), so I wanted to give a brief review of those two books.
As a reminder, these books are for the 6-10 age range (at least according to the cover). I’m reading these books to M (she’s six years old). M really wants to believe in fairies and most days, it seems, she thinks they are real. She’s never actually asked about whether fairies (or mermaids) are real; she just assumes they are. This is unlike many other things that she has specifically asked us about (and to which we give her the age-appropriate truth). I admit that I am not always certain of which side of the line I should be walking on here: her seeming desire and wish for hope in this kind of fantasy, or her—and definitely my—strong preference for concrete truths. Aside from all that, she loves these stories. Thus, we read them.
The third book, Golden at the Fancy Dress Party, was a story much like the first two, where one of the Fairy Bell sisters is the main character for the book (though the other sisters appear with frequency too). Golden is chosen to go to the mainland to participate in a fancy-dress making contest and party. She goes alone, which means that she does not have her sisters there as moral support. Some of the other fairies who are present for the party are threatened by Golden’s costume and dressmaking abilities, and try to thwart her ability to win the contest. I won’t give away the ending, but suffice it to say that Golden makes do with what she’s been given, and ultimately kindness and good intentions prevail. I admit: I didn’t like the premise of the dressmaking contest and the idea of there having to be one winner (there’s too much of that in our culture, I think), but I do like the fact that it shows an interpersonal conflict that an initially uncertain Golden must resolve on her own. M needs to hear more of these stories, I think, because she is often so unsure of herself in similar situations. I liked the story for that reason alone.
The fourth book, however, I had a little more trouble with thematically, at least with respect to one of the subtexts and the age of my own daughter. Clara and the Magical Charms tells the story of Clara and her developing ability to use magical powers (in this case to heal an injured animal). She struggles with how to harness it and goes against the wishes of Queen Mab who had cautioned about using such powers before one was truly ready. I am OK with that part of the story and how it ultimately panned out.
The part that I was not really prepared for, and didn’t like, honestly, was the romantic undertones developing between Clara and Rowan (a male gnome who, with other gnomes, is visiting the fairies’ island for the Valentine’s Day games). It was subtle, but certainly noticeable. At the age of six, my daughter has not really seen too many movies (or read any books, insofar as I can remember) that involve romantic love. When compared to her friends of this age, she has seen far less of the Disney princess movies where these themes come up regularly (the reasons for not watching these movies are many, and not all of them are because of our prohibiting them at one time or another; she’s just not that interested). Of course, she sees us, her parents, loving each other in a romantic way, but outside of that, it’s just not on her radar.
I’m not prudish or afraid of her knowing about these kinds of relationships, but I got a little sad when this theme entered the book. Whether it would be appropriate for the ten year old reading in the recommended age group? Possibly. But it didn’t seem to fit for the six year old set. It just seems like an all too common default plot line, and one that you do not see in books geared more toward boys (though I try to avoid gender specific books, I don’t want to censor books she likes either, and so I don’t). Plus, because romantic love, crushes, and flirting are not on her radar, I had to explain what was going on between Clara and Rowan. She really didn’t understand why he was in the story. These are not concepts I necessarily want to discuss right before bedtime due to the number of other questions it leads to. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have read it had I known beforehand, but I guess I should have paid more attention to what was forthcoming so that I was better prepared. I will make sure I am more clear about what Book 5 is about before we decide to read it.
In a nutshell, these are fairly easy lifting kinds of books. They encompass the fun fluff of young children’s literature, but perhaps not likely among the ones she will remember many years from now.
Copyright (c) 2014 Kristen M. Ploetz
What kind of mother are you? Hey now, let’s keep it clean!
I’m an ISTJ. This makes me, for good or for bad, the “Responsibility” Mother. If you know me in real life, you probably are not too surprised to hear this.
How do I know this? Well, aside from having taken the Myers-Briggs Indicator Type personality test on a handful of different occasions throughout my twenties and thirties (notice I did not say forties…not there yet!), and consistently testing as an ISTJ (introverted, sensing, thinking, judging), I know this because of Book #4 of My Top 8 Parenting Books.*
MotherStyles: Using Personality Types To Learn to Parent From Your Strengths, by Janet P. Penley, with Diane Eble.
So why did I get this book to begin with? I already knew that I am an ISTJ kind of gal. But I wasn’t sure if that remained true from a parenting perspective (ultimately, it did for me), but more importantly, I wanted to know why I always felt so rigid and not very laid back when I compared myself to other parents (mostly other moms . . . perhaps this is some stereotyping, but all dads seem laid back to me, yet I definitely perceived about five or six different styles of mom that I came across regularly). I got this book probably when M was around 2 or maybe even 3, a time when I did not feel very relaxed, what with all the not knowing not to run into streets and put buttons in your mouth (her), constantly thinking about “to do” lists related to daily life (me), and meltdowns when all of those things were trying to be accomplished at once (both of us).
I also wanted to understand better how my personality type interacts with my husband’s parenting style, which is way more laid back (and drives me crazy . . . to the extent that I cannot seem to be that way all the time like he can), and also M’s personality type, which is starting to show through more clearly as the years roll on.
And that’s what this book does. I took the quiz (ISTJ . . . again!) and read the positive qualities and the challenges that my particular parenting style comes with. The book does this for all variations of personality type. It also shows how to best work with the other parent and your child(ren) who might be of similar or different personality types. For example, if you have an introverted parent and child, it is easy to get stuck in a rut (comfort zone) of not going out and being adventurous. The book points out how to tell if this is happening and whether it’s time to “get out there”. Conversely, if the parent is introverted and the kid is extroverted, the parent may have a tendency to want to stay close to home because to go out is overwhelming, but that kind of repeated low-stimulation activity can feel crushing to an extrovert (and vice versa if the personality types are opposite). The book fleshes out these situations for the other components of personality traits as well.
By doing all of this, the book accomplished two things for me. First, it validated the kind of parent that I am without trying to change me. It showed me my strengths and weaknesses. And by reading about other parenting styles, it showed me that they have theirs too. This gave me some much needed assurance at the time I read it. Second, it helped me to understand, empathize with and appreciate the personality traits of M and her dad, which are similar in some cases, but very different in others. With respect to M’s dad’s “type” specifically, it showed me how we can complement each others’ styles and that this is actually good for M in the long-run. With respect to M, though I am not pigeonholing her just yet, I am starting to see where we will be compatible and where there will be friction, complete with sparks. By understanding the bigger picture, I feel more equipped to embrace both the differences and the similarities within our humble home.
If you want a flavor of what this is all about, there is a MotherStyles website where you can take a very short (4 question) version of the quiz in the book. The book’s quiz is far more in-depth, with examples of common parenting scenarios and situations from which to select your answers, and I recommend the book over the website for that reason.
(I actually forgot I had this one . . . I’ve loaned it out to a friend of mine who is a new mom, which means my total books is still higher than what I posted previously. Crazy.)
Copyright (c) 2013 Kristen M. Ploetz
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