The thing about writing is that you're always looking for a new way to say the same thing. Why is that? It's because over time, our common thoughts turn into ready-to-use phrases. These phrases get used because they're so perfect for a time--and then they get used too much, and eventually become cliche. The cliche loses its strength, sort of like expired medicine or last year's nail polish color. Okay, not exactly, but we simply have to search for fresh ways to use words every day. Don't we?
Reading books translated from foreign languages can help. The French would say "Tu parles Francais comme une vache Espagnol." It translates to "You speak French like a Spanish cow." Not something you'd say to an American with lousy French, I'm sure--but isn't it funny to know their common expression. I guess we'd say, "He sounds like he's just off the boat," or some such. I remember when I lived in France, I once had my haircut by an Italian man. After that I knew how to say, "Now I'm going to cut your hair," in French, but with an Italian accent. That cracked me up. More poignant, I suppose, was the fact that many of the domestics living in France were Portuguese. I learned to recognize that accent (the Portuguese accent in French) as well. Words, words, words. They're the bomb.
Today I woke up knowing that tomorrow marks six months from the day my dad died in Udaipur, that crazy little town in India with the palaces in the middle of the big lake--the "Venice of India." Where the movie Octopussy was shot, they say. The Venice of India is not such a good place to get sick, by the way. So as you can imagine--I cried a lot this morning as I tried to collect memories of that day. We had a great flight, but then the disappointment at arriving at a hotel that seemed dilapidated and depressing, and sort of walled in. There was our ride in the tuktuk that felt more like a refurbished mo-ped from 1976, than something three grownups should be riding around the "Venice of India" in. We finally saw the lake and the palaces we'd read about, and even a camel or two on the side of the road. We stopped at a beautiful garden--an ancient royal garden of some sort. That's where I took the photo of my dad with all the jokers--a group of sophisticated teenage Indian tourists wearing sunglasses. They were just my dad's type. There was an enormous fountain filled up with lily pads, and then we saw a beautiful curvy woman in a yellow sari, and we said that was the Indian version of my mom. He told me his last joke there, and we gave some change to a very poor woman and her toddler.
When Henry woke up at 7:15 this morning, he came in my room. When I told him to look out the window at the shivering tree, that today would be chilly unlike yesterday, he made a "brrr" sound, and climbed into our bed. I looked at his little bronzed face and told him I'd spent the morning crying. I told him that tomorrow was the six month anniversary of Oompah. He looked at me in total sympathy, his eyes welled up, and he smiled. "Oompah was the best joke teller." That's what he said. I can see my dad shaking his head. He just loved Henry.
So my head and my heart were heavy (but open) all morning as I re-wrote a satisfying sibling fight scene in the draft of the book I will someday share, and Eric left with the boys. Yet I couldn't stay in bed with my beautiful new laptop all day (Thanks, MOM!) I had to go out into the world to see the dermatologist. Going out into the world--that's when things happen. Fifty-eighth and Sutton Place may not sound so bad to you, but to us, it may as well be Minneapolis or Timbuktu. I threw the apartment back together, put on a dress that matched my beautiful brown Repetto ballet flats (Thanks, Shela!) and wrapped myself in one of the big hand-woven scarves my dad and I picked out at Harry's, the store in South Bombay where he bought two rugs for my mom. I cracked myself up, saying: "Did you ever get the feeling that the scarf you're wearing is really a table runner?" I imagined him laughing, too. I think it actually might be a table runner. How does one know? Well, I'm always imagining him laughing. Maybe that's when I miss him the most. That's always when I realize how much I miss his voice. He had so many of them (voices) but several of them were just so gentle. For a guy with a raspy voice, he really was able to sound like a pussy cat.
-
So I'd made my way to the Middle-East of Manhattan, and there I was--right at the on-ramp of the Queensboro Bridge. God in heaven! Who wants to cross that? But I guess my old Pop was watching, because as the light turned red for the ramp, I heard a familiar sound. It went something like this" "Sh-boom, Sh-boom. Ya da da da da da DA da da da da Sh-boom Sh-boom." Now, this is not the typical song you hear coming out of a car window in Manhattan. This is a song from around 1954. So I turned my head to the right, to see where on earth it could be coming from--and there sitting in a big old SUV with a giant YANKEES sticker on it, was an old happy fat guy with shiny greased back gray hair, just singing along to the Chords. I looked straight at his face, and he caught my eye. I sang a long for a few bars, and then I gave the guy the old thumbs up. He smiled. And as I walked away, I talked to my Dad--who I guess was trying to tell me he was okay. "Dad," I said to him. "I'm so glad you're doing okay now. Because you weren't so good the last time I saw you."
So I won't go on and on about how weepy I got. (I'm starting to feel like Holden Caulfied, walking around New York observing old people.) But the whole day has been like that. So I'll just try and wrap up with two thoughts. First, I decided that instead of thinking of tomorrow as the six month anniversary of the day we lost you, Dad, I'll think of today as the six month anniversary of the last time you taught, and I'll just say to those students at the American School in Bombay: You guys were really, really lucky.
And I'll finish by making sure Dad, that you know I didn't just sit around and cry all day. Like I said, I went to the dermatologist (something we always did together) and then I went to a thrift shop and bought a pair of really cute shoes for ten bucks and a pair of black silk capris (also $10)--just like the ones Mary Tyler Moore used to wear on the Dick Van Dyke show. (I know you loved her.) Oh yeah, then I bought some yellow Freesia and made a little shrine on the living room table instead of getting one of those depressing candles that Jews use. I know the flowers would probably make you sneeze. Not once, but about sixty five times. So God bless you.
Love you dad. I hope you know how much.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
One year later: New Bloggage!
I looked at this page for the first time in a year. I am sorry, my dear blog. My fault, I fear. In the 12 months I spent not blogging, I completed a 57-page paper on the idea of QUIRKiness in writing for kids (thanks, Polly Horvath, Nathalie Babbitt, and Anne Ursu) and I completed 116 polished draft pages of my middle-grade novel. I had to give the book a name. The title AGNES VON KLINER, FASHION DESIGNER no longer worked since my MC (main character) changed to Agnes's pal, Carly Blye. The working title (is it working?) is Leave a Message for Carly Blye.
SO, my friends, you ask: The graduate degree is done. You know all there is to know. Now what? Well the answer is simple: No, I don't! I am still not sure how to finish the novel, all of my picture book manuscripts need overhauls, and I've had a sudden revelation about rhythm! (As in, my writing has none!) I want so much to be one of these people with a rule! What rules? Okay here are some examples: Write every day. Write every day for 7 minutes. Write a poem a day. Come up with a schedule and adhere to it! Okay, done. I hereby promise to write every day. NO MATTER WHAT. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll post some of my new-found rhythmic ditties here. Please stay tuned. You may not feel so lucky if you have to read them. Hah!
One the reading front, I recently read something I loved: GOOD GIRLS by Laura Ruby. It's a full-on YA with love, lust, rumors, and pain. It's very smart and not over the top, but thoughtful and important. It had everything a teenage girl wants. It's also a bit of a primer on teen romance if you have a boy who's willing to go there. I wouldn't give it to my kids (10 and 12) for fear they'll just laugh at me. But maybe if I leave it out, my tween will notice it. Nah. He's still re-reading Matilda. Henry and I have slowly been enjoying The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. While. Oh, the joy of a slow, unraveling simple plot.
On the life front, I lost my dad last year, and it's still so hard to believe. I had school to finish this winter, so I found a way to put my sadness away for a little while in order to focus on writing. But, it's here. It's back. I miss him. I hope to write about him and about my amazing, surviving mom in the near future.
SO, my friends, you ask: The graduate degree is done. You know all there is to know. Now what? Well the answer is simple: No, I don't! I am still not sure how to finish the novel, all of my picture book manuscripts need overhauls, and I've had a sudden revelation about rhythm! (As in, my writing has none!) I want so much to be one of these people with a rule! What rules? Okay here are some examples: Write every day. Write every day for 7 minutes. Write a poem a day. Come up with a schedule and adhere to it! Okay, done. I hereby promise to write every day. NO MATTER WHAT. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll post some of my new-found rhythmic ditties here. Please stay tuned. You may not feel so lucky if you have to read them. Hah!
One the reading front, I recently read something I loved: GOOD GIRLS by Laura Ruby. It's a full-on YA with love, lust, rumors, and pain. It's very smart and not over the top, but thoughtful and important. It had everything a teenage girl wants. It's also a bit of a primer on teen romance if you have a boy who's willing to go there. I wouldn't give it to my kids (10 and 12) for fear they'll just laugh at me. But maybe if I leave it out, my tween will notice it. Nah. He's still re-reading Matilda. Henry and I have slowly been enjoying The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. While. Oh, the joy of a slow, unraveling simple plot.
On the life front, I lost my dad last year, and it's still so hard to believe. I had school to finish this winter, so I found a way to put my sadness away for a little while in order to focus on writing. But, it's here. It's back. I miss him. I hope to write about him and about my amazing, surviving mom in the near future.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Reading and Writing. Behold!
I arrived home today from my writing residency--eleven days in St. Paul, and boy, oh boy was it a crazy, wonderful, kooky, insane, inspiring, emotional (did I say crazy?) week. Well, it was. Indeed. I am happy to be home in NYC, but find myself telling stories no one wants to hear about people they've never met. Do you know how that is? My older son (Gus) is walking around the house exclaiming: BEHOLD! (This exclamation comes from the game Dixit--an awesome game that uses the other side of the brain--courtesy of Kiel Phegley, a first semester writing student.) And Henry (8) who read the new Mo Willems, now feels he has unlocked the secret to successful illustration: "It's the expressions!"
I came home with signed books for them, including Godless by Pete Hautman, The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt--and others not signed, but purchased at The Wild Rumpus Book Store. These include a Moomin picture book, Who Will Comfort Toffle? also a lovely, quirky, sad short novel called Against the Odds, and a stunning picture book called Lola and the Rent-a-Cat. The latter two both about serious subjects: fear of losing a parent in war and then death and loneliness.
This semester I begin work on a critical thesis, so beginning tomorrow, I begin looking for very quirky middle-grade books that address serious topics. I plan to look at how extremely unusual writing and voice allows children to access difficult topics. Should be an emotional tilt-a-whirl. If anyone has any favorites, please tell me. I am going to look at The Pushcart War, an all-time favorite.
At school this residency, we learned about writing for character. The faculty was (were?) fantastic and came up with original and evocative talks. Everything from helping us to think about the meaning of work in our writing and what works when one chooses to anthropomorphize and recognizing your antagonist and how to use subtext in dialogue. This was a lot of the real CRAFT stuff of writing, and because of that--very exciting. ME FEEL SMART!
Before leaving on my trip, my grandmother died. I went off in the shadow of her funeral, and a eulogy I wrote that gave me an opportunity to look at the family's immigrant heritage (the Hochs arrived in 1920 from Kunkalevka, Poland via Antwerp.) While in St. Paul, I thought more than once or twice about writing historical fiction. It seems like it would be so much fun--at least the research.
So now I am home, and what are the boys reading? Henry is finishing the last of the Fudge books. Gus had a choice between a few books, and chose Godless. It's a National Book Award winner about a boy who starts his own religion, and then realizes how hard it is to control. Pete Hautman, the author, spoke to us at school about some of his writing epiphanies. A fun, irreverent, charming and smart speaker, he shared some great ideas. He learned a lot from Elmore Leonard.
One of the highlights was Gary Schmidt's graduation keynote speech (we had four splendid grads who will each have a novel ready to publish soon! Take note, editor friends!) in which he told heartbreaking stories of the kinds of kids he urged our four grads to write for, before anyone else. He always refers to kids as kiddos. Hearing Gary speak or read is something to behold. (Behold!) He wove together his many poignant, funny, delightful stories--stories about Nathaniel Hawthorne's journey from loneliness to marriage; disadvantaged damaged kids he'd reached; the women of Terezin concentration Camp who fought over the correct ingredients for their favorite recipes while they were dying of starvation. He read three scenes to us from his new book, Okay for Now--forthcoming in April. Watch out for it. I can only think of cliches to describe how involved we became with the three scenes he read.
Also spellbinding were our fourth semester critical lectures. We heard about Zen and writing, turning dreams into writing and understanding dreams to better understand yourself, a practical guide to the intrusive narrator (amazing!), and we learned and learned until our brains were stretched like balloons, I tell you!
In my morning workshop, I was Jane'd. That means that Jane Resh Thomas, one of the founders of the program, made an example out of my sloppy lard-ass writing. I found out (the hard way) that I use "filters" which distance my writing from my reader. Who knew? I felt hurt, defensive, and whined like a baby. But I promise you--I will avoid them now. In workshop, when we're up, we listen. No talking until the end of the hour. So if you want to explain something to your fellow writers, you have to wait until the end. I think my jerking body betrayed my attempt to appear unhurt. But it hurts. And I know how much I have yet to learn. And yet, yet, YET--every reader reacts differently. If that weren't true, we'd all read the same book. I only recently found out that those Dragon Tattoo books have violent sex scenes in them. No wonder they're so popular. Jeepers. Who knew?
Back to life. I have to go give the boys their good dreams and maybe read them a story. More to come--and I hope to add some books jackets and pictures to match this.
Oh yeah. I can't sign off without publicly thanking my dear friend and pal-o-the-month, Peter Pearson. He was a dear friend to all of us at the residency. I think he has a heart four sizes too large. But to me especially. He played his guitar while we sang an adorable song my lil Henry wrote about a book he'd read a few months ago. The song was for a school project. The book was Because of Winn Dixie, and we performed a funny interpretation of it at the graduation banquet. Little did we know that the author of the book, Kate DiCamillo would be sitting directly in front of us. It was a hit. We laughed. We were really happy. I think this happy feeling will last at least until tomorrow. I hope so.
I came home with signed books for them, including Godless by Pete Hautman, The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt--and others not signed, but purchased at The Wild Rumpus Book Store. These include a Moomin picture book, Who Will Comfort Toffle? also a lovely, quirky, sad short novel called Against the Odds, and a stunning picture book called Lola and the Rent-a-Cat. The latter two both about serious subjects: fear of losing a parent in war and then death and loneliness.
This semester I begin work on a critical thesis, so beginning tomorrow, I begin looking for very quirky middle-grade books that address serious topics. I plan to look at how extremely unusual writing and voice allows children to access difficult topics. Should be an emotional tilt-a-whirl. If anyone has any favorites, please tell me. I am going to look at The Pushcart War, an all-time favorite.
At school this residency, we learned about writing for character. The faculty was (were?) fantastic and came up with original and evocative talks. Everything from helping us to think about the meaning of work in our writing and what works when one chooses to anthropomorphize and recognizing your antagonist and how to use subtext in dialogue. This was a lot of the real CRAFT stuff of writing, and because of that--very exciting. ME FEEL SMART!
Before leaving on my trip, my grandmother died. I went off in the shadow of her funeral, and a eulogy I wrote that gave me an opportunity to look at the family's immigrant heritage (the Hochs arrived in 1920 from Kunkalevka, Poland via Antwerp.) While in St. Paul, I thought more than once or twice about writing historical fiction. It seems like it would be so much fun--at least the research.
So now I am home, and what are the boys reading? Henry is finishing the last of the Fudge books. Gus had a choice between a few books, and chose Godless. It's a National Book Award winner about a boy who starts his own religion, and then realizes how hard it is to control. Pete Hautman, the author, spoke to us at school about some of his writing epiphanies. A fun, irreverent, charming and smart speaker, he shared some great ideas. He learned a lot from Elmore Leonard.
One of the highlights was Gary Schmidt's graduation keynote speech (we had four splendid grads who will each have a novel ready to publish soon! Take note, editor friends!) in which he told heartbreaking stories of the kinds of kids he urged our four grads to write for, before anyone else. He always refers to kids as kiddos. Hearing Gary speak or read is something to behold. (Behold!) He wove together his many poignant, funny, delightful stories--stories about Nathaniel Hawthorne's journey from loneliness to marriage; disadvantaged damaged kids he'd reached; the women of Terezin concentration Camp who fought over the correct ingredients for their favorite recipes while they were dying of starvation. He read three scenes to us from his new book, Okay for Now--forthcoming in April. Watch out for it. I can only think of cliches to describe how involved we became with the three scenes he read.
Also spellbinding were our fourth semester critical lectures. We heard about Zen and writing, turning dreams into writing and understanding dreams to better understand yourself, a practical guide to the intrusive narrator (amazing!), and we learned and learned until our brains were stretched like balloons, I tell you!
In my morning workshop, I was Jane'd. That means that Jane Resh Thomas, one of the founders of the program, made an example out of my sloppy lard-ass writing. I found out (the hard way) that I use "filters" which distance my writing from my reader. Who knew? I felt hurt, defensive, and whined like a baby. But I promise you--I will avoid them now. In workshop, when we're up, we listen. No talking until the end of the hour. So if you want to explain something to your fellow writers, you have to wait until the end. I think my jerking body betrayed my attempt to appear unhurt. But it hurts. And I know how much I have yet to learn. And yet, yet, YET--every reader reacts differently. If that weren't true, we'd all read the same book. I only recently found out that those Dragon Tattoo books have violent sex scenes in them. No wonder they're so popular. Jeepers. Who knew?
Back to life. I have to go give the boys their good dreams and maybe read them a story. More to come--and I hope to add some books jackets and pictures to match this.
Oh yeah. I can't sign off without publicly thanking my dear friend and pal-o-the-month, Peter Pearson. He was a dear friend to all of us at the residency. I think he has a heart four sizes too large. But to me especially. He played his guitar while we sang an adorable song my lil Henry wrote about a book he'd read a few months ago. The song was for a school project. The book was Because of Winn Dixie, and we performed a funny interpretation of it at the graduation banquet. Little did we know that the author of the book, Kate DiCamillo would be sitting directly in front of us. It was a hit. We laughed. We were really happy. I think this happy feeling will last at least until tomorrow. I hope so.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Five months off
People, I took five months off blogging. I think it was because I was writing the
guts of my novel. Yes, you heard correctly, my novel--directed at the very sophisticated audience of 10 year old girls. If all goes as planned, the book will have suspense, excitement, fashion, witty banter, love, loss, and what everybody wore.
As a matter of fact, I had to change the title. It was originally called Agnes Von Kliner, Fashion Designer. But Agnes is now the best friend. The protagonist is Carly Blye. I would hate to be someone who has to run a title contest, but I promise you, dear readers, that not one decent title for this book have I thought of. NOT ONE.
Enough about me and my writing (though I am also working on a book I sold called Carry It, Harriet) enough about my life (I go back to school in a few weeks you know!) how could I possibly go on and on , with complete disregard for the tediousness of the self-referential blogger (aren't we all?)
Anyway, there has been a shift for me in this blog. I find myself seldom reading to my children anymore. Why is this? I am frightened to ask. It's probably neglect. Gus (11) reads about a novel a day, if he has a new one, and Henry (8) vigilantly reads 20 minutes per night for his third-grade reading log. He has read some C.S. Lewis, Garfield, Fudge books by Judy Blume, a great book called Weird Stuff--and more. Gus just finished Rick Riordan's new book in a day. Yup, he brags. And he's lined up some Anthony Horowitz and Susan Cooper.
So I won't say to much about what they're reading until I start paying very close attention again--but I will say that I have continued to read for school (my MFA in writing for Children and Young Adults at Hamline)and I have read Saffy's Angel (loved) Absolutely, Positively Not Gay (an important book), Somebody (suspenseful quick read), The Higher Power of Lucky (misplaced it 3/4 way through, so very upset)and a galley of Betsy Partridge's wonderful new novel Dog-Tag Summer (luscious) and I am also reading Darkness Over Denmark by my friend Ellen Levine who was just diagnosed with Stage 4 lung Cancer, which is so very devastating. She is so loved by so many. She is my Jewish mother in the city, and I already miss her as she struggles with treatments.
Signing off to go pick up kids, but I have not disappeared--I just needed to write a draft of a novel, and so I almost have one. I'd say another 30-40 pages, and I'll have something you can read!
guts of my novel. Yes, you heard correctly, my novel--directed at the very sophisticated audience of 10 year old girls. If all goes as planned, the book will have suspense, excitement, fashion, witty banter, love, loss, and what everybody wore.
As a matter of fact, I had to change the title. It was originally called Agnes Von Kliner, Fashion Designer. But Agnes is now the best friend. The protagonist is Carly Blye. I would hate to be someone who has to run a title contest, but I promise you, dear readers, that not one decent title for this book have I thought of. NOT ONE.
Enough about me and my writing (though I am also working on a book I sold called Carry It, Harriet) enough about my life (I go back to school in a few weeks you know!) how could I possibly go on and on , with complete disregard for the tediousness of the self-referential blogger (aren't we all?)
Anyway, there has been a shift for me in this blog. I find myself seldom reading to my children anymore. Why is this? I am frightened to ask. It's probably neglect. Gus (11) reads about a novel a day, if he has a new one, and Henry (8) vigilantly reads 20 minutes per night for his third-grade reading log. He has read some C.S. Lewis, Garfield, Fudge books by Judy Blume, a great book called Weird Stuff--and more. Gus just finished Rick Riordan's new book in a day. Yup, he brags. And he's lined up some Anthony Horowitz and Susan Cooper.
So I won't say to much about what they're reading until I start paying very close attention again--but I will say that I have continued to read for school (my MFA in writing for Children and Young Adults at Hamline)and I have read Saffy's Angel (loved) Absolutely, Positively Not Gay (an important book), Somebody (suspenseful quick read), The Higher Power of Lucky (misplaced it 3/4 way through, so very upset)and a galley of Betsy Partridge's wonderful new novel Dog-Tag Summer (luscious) and I am also reading Darkness Over Denmark by my friend Ellen Levine who was just diagnosed with Stage 4 lung Cancer, which is so very devastating. She is so loved by so many. She is my Jewish mother in the city, and I already miss her as she struggles with treatments.
Signing off to go pick up kids, but I have not disappeared--I just needed to write a draft of a novel, and so I almost have one. I'd say another 30-40 pages, and I'll have something you can read!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Comfort in familiarity
Yesterday was a "getting the car fixed in New Jersey" day. Gus had nothing to read (finished Anne Ursu's Siren Song in two days), the hood of the car needed a new part, and so we were both understandably panicked. I'd been thinking about giving Gus some teen fiction, though he's not yet 11. This, because he's suddenly in that in-between age where he can enjoy a picture book or an Eyewitness book (about Knights in this case)as well as a juicy novel--fantasy or realistic. From my shelf I plucked a young adult novel called "Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film about The Grapes of Wrath" by Steven Goldman. I had edited the book at Bloomsbury just before I left, and loved it so much. It's a terrifically funny book about a boy named Mitchell, whose best friend, David, realizes he's gay--and despite everything they discover together about life and themselves, they remain close. And, of course, they have a typically disastrous prom--involving horrible yellow stains on white tuxedo pants. You guessed it.
Gus had devoured it by the end of the day when the car was fixed ($1300), and I loved asking him what part he was reading every hour or so--so I could reminisce about what a charming book it had been for me to work on. Thinking about it, I realize "Two Parties" was a great book for boys who are beginning to see the fun and humor about more grown-up issues, but who also feel the fears that come with becoming teens.
I learned at Hamline last week--thanks to Chris Campbell's critical thesis--that for boys, fear plays an enormous role in growing into a teen. Sure, 'tween and teenage boys may be curious about girls, socializing, and their own changing bodies, but honestly! The big problem is more about being seen naked in the boys' locker room (Thanks for the image, Chris!) and not feeling humiliated about a squeaking voice, the way you smell, or being over or under-weight. I think Judy Blume had it right when she said: Then Again, Maybe I Won't. These days when I ask Gus if he's excited about something, his answer is usually: "Not specifically." I chuckle, but I realize how indifferent he feels. And why? Because the things an eleven year old wants are the not the things we parents think are "good" for them. Ever. He wants to play video games, talk about whatever matters to him, be sarcastic, read great books, and basically never HAVE to do anything he doesn't want to do. I imagine there are many other things he does want to do, but those probably aren't the things you tell your mom! This topic has become a big theme for me lately as I try an navigate this new phase along with my growing-up son.
Tonight I walked into his room to find him reading yet another book. "I know, I've read it sixteen times," he said as he showed me the cover of Otherwise Known as Shelia the Great. See what I mean? I always feel caught between two worlds, and now he's feeling it, too. It always goes back to Judy Blume, doesn't it!
Now I must go begin revise fifty pages from the novel I am trying (very slowly) to write, but I invite you, my friends, to suggest any great books or films for boys of this age. It's a question that's been stumping everyone in my MFA program. I will say this: Now that I realize that there are big fears and apprehensions that accompany the new-found curiosity and need for exploration, at least I can turn to books such as Fat Kid Rules the World and others, where kids Gus's age are facing the feelings that come with this nerve-racking time in a child's life: he knows he is really starting to grow up for good, and there's nothing he can do to make it go faster or to stop it from happening.
Gus had devoured it by the end of the day when the car was fixed ($1300), and I loved asking him what part he was reading every hour or so--so I could reminisce about what a charming book it had been for me to work on. Thinking about it, I realize "Two Parties" was a great book for boys who are beginning to see the fun and humor about more grown-up issues, but who also feel the fears that come with becoming teens.
I learned at Hamline last week--thanks to Chris Campbell's critical thesis--that for boys, fear plays an enormous role in growing into a teen. Sure, 'tween and teenage boys may be curious about girls, socializing, and their own changing bodies, but honestly! The big problem is more about being seen naked in the boys' locker room (Thanks for the image, Chris!) and not feeling humiliated about a squeaking voice, the way you smell, or being over or under-weight. I think Judy Blume had it right when she said: Then Again, Maybe I Won't. These days when I ask Gus if he's excited about something, his answer is usually: "Not specifically." I chuckle, but I realize how indifferent he feels. And why? Because the things an eleven year old wants are the not the things we parents think are "good" for them. Ever. He wants to play video games, talk about whatever matters to him, be sarcastic, read great books, and basically never HAVE to do anything he doesn't want to do. I imagine there are many other things he does want to do, but those probably aren't the things you tell your mom! This topic has become a big theme for me lately as I try an navigate this new phase along with my growing-up son.
Tonight I walked into his room to find him reading yet another book. "I know, I've read it sixteen times," he said as he showed me the cover of Otherwise Known as Shelia the Great. See what I mean? I always feel caught between two worlds, and now he's feeling it, too. It always goes back to Judy Blume, doesn't it!
Now I must go begin revise fifty pages from the novel I am trying (very slowly) to write, but I invite you, my friends, to suggest any great books or films for boys of this age. It's a question that's been stumping everyone in my MFA program. I will say this: Now that I realize that there are big fears and apprehensions that accompany the new-found curiosity and need for exploration, at least I can turn to books such as Fat Kid Rules the World and others, where kids Gus's age are facing the feelings that come with this nerve-racking time in a child's life: he knows he is really starting to grow up for good, and there's nothing he can do to make it go faster or to stop it from happening.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Summer Reading, New Books
My new book was released last week and we celebrated with PS 87 by having a reading and book fair to raise money for the school. Peter Ackerman had already arranged to read his new book, The Lonely Phone Booth, and he kindly allowed me to share the stage. His book is hilarious and terribly clever.
My book is called Orangutans Are Ticklish: Fun Facts from An Animal Photographer--and it's really a beautiful book. The photographer is Steve Grubman, who takes studio shots of every animal imaginable. The book features his photos, and my job was to find facts to go with the photos. I learned so much about the most common animals in this process, and now I can actually walk around town discussing where various species of elephant come from and the fact that a tiger would beat a lion in a fight. The book is available anywhere, so if you buy it, I will be happy to sign it for you.
I have been wanting to start a good list for summer reading. Almost everyday, I am asked about this topic. What can my son read? What would my daughter like? I love to do this and yet it's not always easy to come up with an answer on the spot. One of my favorite ways to find the right book for a child is to pull something off the shelf and read the first line, or the first paragraph, or if you can do it--the first page. This has been my secret reading weapon with my older son. I pretend I am going to read him a novel, and after one chapter, I say I am going to bed and we'll continue tomorrow--but then --HA! I trick him and he takes the book and keeps reading!
Here are some perfectly brilliant books for the nine or ten year old! (Most of these authors also write for younger kids, too, so check out their Amazon pages!)
Realistic Fiction:
Swindled and Zoo Break by Gordon Korman
Born to Rock by Gordon Korman
Schooled by Gordon Korman
With a very slightly historical bent:
Al Capone Does My Shirts and Al Capone Shines My Shoes by Jennifer Choldenko
With a British bent:
Skellig and Kit's Wilderness by David Almond
With superpowers and the internet:
A series in two forms: Hero.com and Villain.net by Andy Briggs
More for Girls:
Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen (three separate titles) by Lauren Myracle. She also has a series with titles such as TTYL
Sarah Dessen's books are sort of the Judy Blume books of today--friendship, family, romance...fun!
I will be back soon with lists for the younger ages--7-10!
My book is called Orangutans Are Ticklish: Fun Facts from An Animal Photographer--and it's really a beautiful book. The photographer is Steve Grubman, who takes studio shots of every animal imaginable. The book features his photos, and my job was to find facts to go with the photos. I learned so much about the most common animals in this process, and now I can actually walk around town discussing where various species of elephant come from and the fact that a tiger would beat a lion in a fight. The book is available anywhere, so if you buy it, I will be happy to sign it for you.
I have been wanting to start a good list for summer reading. Almost everyday, I am asked about this topic. What can my son read? What would my daughter like? I love to do this and yet it's not always easy to come up with an answer on the spot. One of my favorite ways to find the right book for a child is to pull something off the shelf and read the first line, or the first paragraph, or if you can do it--the first page. This has been my secret reading weapon with my older son. I pretend I am going to read him a novel, and after one chapter, I say I am going to bed and we'll continue tomorrow--but then --HA! I trick him and he takes the book and keeps reading!
Here are some perfectly brilliant books for the nine or ten year old! (Most of these authors also write for younger kids, too, so check out their Amazon pages!)
Realistic Fiction:
Swindled and Zoo Break by Gordon Korman
Born to Rock by Gordon Korman
Schooled by Gordon Korman
With a very slightly historical bent:
Al Capone Does My Shirts and Al Capone Shines My Shoes by Jennifer Choldenko
With a British bent:
Skellig and Kit's Wilderness by David Almond
With superpowers and the internet:
A series in two forms: Hero.com and Villain.net by Andy Briggs
More for Girls:
Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen (three separate titles) by Lauren Myracle. She also has a series with titles such as TTYL
Sarah Dessen's books are sort of the Judy Blume books of today--friendship, family, romance...fun!
I will be back soon with lists for the younger ages--7-10!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
beautiful art and storytelling
Yesterday I journeyed to Canal street in dirty damp the rain to preview an art show by my friend Serge Bloch. The gallery is Living With Art. 153 Lafayette. The opening is Thursday evening, and the prices are human. Anyone who has been to my apartment knows that I have been collecting Serge's work, but this is the first original piece for me. My friend Vincent Kirsch came, too. Vincent, being the other astonishingly gifted illustrator for whom I keep a shrine in my apartment, helped me pick out a piece called The Baroness. She is reminiscent of William Steig. (I digress to mention there is a show of Jewish picture book illustrators coming to the Eric Carle Museum/Amherst in October! It includes, Serge, Steig, Mordicai Gerstein and the wonderful Simms Taback.)I will pick the Baroness up next week. I will have to ask her where she wants to go. Clearly it's her decision. Just look at her!
I wanted to write about the love affair I experienced a month or so ago when I read The Secret Garden, but I can't because I have moved on to books about boys. But I can recommend that if you haven't read The Secret Garden, you should do it right now. Promise?
I re-read The Giver by Lois Lowry. I read it along with my fifth grader, and we chatted periodically. The book is about a boy who is chosen in his bizarre Utopian community to receive all of the memories from a man called the Receiver. What moved me about the book were the descriptions of experiences the boy has never known. Makes you think. The one that choked me up was the description of Christmas. Maybe because the scene involved grandparents. The boy in the book has never heard of grandparents, but he feels connected to the idea of it. Good for fifth grade and up.
Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli surprised me. Being a book about a tough homeless orphan who runs around between and black neighborhood and a while neighborhood and belongs to both and neither, it really made me think about kids today and how it all looks to them. Told as a tall tale, Maniac Magee feels more like a superhero than a regular child. A very clever concept and story. Good for 4th grade and up.
The big winner this month was Skellig by David Almond. This book crosses age ranges. I might read this to my second grader, while handing a copy to my fifth grader to read to himself. (He did, by the way.)David Almond is a favorite writer of Betsy Partridge. Betsy is the third person to whom I have a shrine in my home, but her shrine is photographic. Her new book Marching For Freedom is the story of the kids who marched during the Civil Rights Movement. This is the type of deeply affecting book you can read to your children, and feel you've done your job as a parent for the whole week. Go Betsy! Back to Skellig. I won't say too much about Skellig except for that it's the story of a boy and his baby sister, whose health is bad. His family moves house (yes, it's British) and Michael finds a man or something in the garage. He also meets up with a neighbor girl named Mina, sort of a sassy superego, and of course home-schooled. The little things and big things that happen to them and change them are magic.
Today is Lewis Carroll Day. Two weeks ago, our second grade book club took a retreat to Central Park where the children climbed on the Alice in Wonderland Statue. We had scones and sandwiches, and read parts of Alice in Wonderland out loud. It was a moment. And it was not raining! On the way back, we met some men who were making bubbles with giant nets. The perfect ending to the picnic.
I wanted to write about the love affair I experienced a month or so ago when I read The Secret Garden, but I can't because I have moved on to books about boys. But I can recommend that if you haven't read The Secret Garden, you should do it right now. Promise?
I re-read The Giver by Lois Lowry. I read it along with my fifth grader, and we chatted periodically. The book is about a boy who is chosen in his bizarre Utopian community to receive all of the memories from a man called the Receiver. What moved me about the book were the descriptions of experiences the boy has never known. Makes you think. The one that choked me up was the description of Christmas. Maybe because the scene involved grandparents. The boy in the book has never heard of grandparents, but he feels connected to the idea of it. Good for fifth grade and up.
Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli surprised me. Being a book about a tough homeless orphan who runs around between and black neighborhood and a while neighborhood and belongs to both and neither, it really made me think about kids today and how it all looks to them. Told as a tall tale, Maniac Magee feels more like a superhero than a regular child. A very clever concept and story. Good for 4th grade and up.
The big winner this month was Skellig by David Almond. This book crosses age ranges. I might read this to my second grader, while handing a copy to my fifth grader to read to himself. (He did, by the way.)David Almond is a favorite writer of Betsy Partridge. Betsy is the third person to whom I have a shrine in my home, but her shrine is photographic. Her new book Marching For Freedom is the story of the kids who marched during the Civil Rights Movement. This is the type of deeply affecting book you can read to your children, and feel you've done your job as a parent for the whole week. Go Betsy! Back to Skellig. I won't say too much about Skellig except for that it's the story of a boy and his baby sister, whose health is bad. His family moves house (yes, it's British) and Michael finds a man or something in the garage. He also meets up with a neighbor girl named Mina, sort of a sassy superego, and of course home-schooled. The little things and big things that happen to them and change them are magic.
Today is Lewis Carroll Day. Two weeks ago, our second grade book club took a retreat to Central Park where the children climbed on the Alice in Wonderland Statue. We had scones and sandwiches, and read parts of Alice in Wonderland out loud. It was a moment. And it was not raining! On the way back, we met some men who were making bubbles with giant nets. The perfect ending to the picnic.
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