Month: April 2019

How to Choose a Good Book

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Have you ever been browsing a book store and not felt like you’ve found a “good” book?

Well choosing books for kids is even worse! How do you know what they’ll be in to right now? How to do you know if it will have enough pictures? How do you know if they will like the content?

I had a girl come in who loved to talk with me but NEVER took any of my book suggestions. She’d return books half read because they were too “predictable” or because “it was too happy”. But, I finally found her the perfect book. Not only the perfect book BUT the perfect series. It kept her occupied for months! She wanted a sad book so I gave her……

It was perfect! She loved how unhappy the books were! But … after five of them she told me they were “predictable”.

I can pick out a book that I think will be perfect for a kid! It can have humor, graphic novel sections, and great characters…. but the kid will be unwilling to even try it because they don’t like the cover. It’s things like this that make it hard to choose books for kids. Here are a few tips from me on what may help!

  1. Cover appeal- as much as we don’t want to judge a book by its cover, kids will. Be aware of this. As much as the old books look neat and amazing on our shelves, kids may not be attracted to a leather bound book
  2. Pictures- with the rise in graphic novels I find more and more kids who want to only read chapter books with pictures. I have seen some very high reading level kids that are only in Second Grade. Books like “Stick Dog” by Watson or “Dork Diaries” by Russell may be a great way to send them. But don’t hesitate to challenge them towards books with more narrative than pictures!
  3. What drives the book forward- Relationship building is beautiful but most kids want some action. As adults, we see the value in relationships and stories that touch your heart but if all the characters do is stand (or sit) around and talk this might not be a winner.
  4. Recommendations – If you really want to give a book to kids that they will love, find out what other kids love. I really enjoy giving my patrons book recommendations, but they tend to take them more seriously if I can say another kid really liked the book.

There you go! Just a few tips. As much as we love books for one reason or another, we have to remember to see the books through the eyes of a child.

Keep Sparkling

-B

National Siblings Day (a little late)

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Happy Late National Siblings Day! I know, it’s not April 10. It’s almost 10 days late. But still! National siblings day is something to be celebrated so I thought I’d take a moment to share with all of you about my wonderful childhood memories of my siblings (and I promise that I will try to relate them to books).

I was the middle of seven kids in my family. Seven. That’s right. You heard me correctly. Seven. There were a lot of us. There was chaos, laughter, fighting, and fun. My parents were tired, and rightly so. Still, some of my favorite memories involve reading.

My dad started us out early. He would read us “Mr. Cheepers”. We got to say the words of whatever pictures were stuck in the sentences. He read “Little Tug” more times than I can remember. And “The Five Chinese Brothers”! My siblings and I could listen to these stories over and over. He gave us beautiful memories.

My likes and dislikes were mostly shaped by my older sister. The one right above me. We shared a room for much of our growing up. She’s the one who taught me about reading with a flashlight under the covers or sitting on the bathroom floor with a book at night so no one could catch you reading. That was her. She started my journey of being tricky. She’s pretty awesome that way.

She also gives me some of the best book suggestions to this day. As a homemaker she is deeply aware of what her kids are reading. It’s never surprising to receive a text with pictures of books and how much her kids are liking them. She is an avid reader herself and I often find myself adding her books on Goodreads to my “want to read” list. She introduced me to Kiera Cass’s “The Selection”, Linda Lee Maifair’s “Darcy J. Doyle” detective series, and Ted Dekker.

My oldest sister taught me the importance of reading things that were not just about people like me. She introduced me to diverse books. As she was going to school for Elementary Education, she would bring her books home on the weekend and share them with me. She showed me beautiful pop-ups, different cultures, and rich stories.

My oldest brother would begrudgingly read TO me. It was awesome! Growing up he was very much my hero. If I was scared or had a nightmare, I often found myself running to him. He showed me he cared by reading to me. I remember the occasional question (and I mean very occasional) “Hey, what are you reading?”. You can’t blame him for not being all that interested. A 10 year age gap will do that but still, he read to me.

The next two siblings of mine don’t share a whole lot in the way of literary tastes. My younger brother reads a lot, but we’ve not found many books that we share. But he will listen to me talk about all my favorite books, so props to him.

My sister that is right below me in age is my polar opposite in most things. BUT we can talk about Inspirational fiction. We don’t like very many of the same things, but we can talk about Karen Kingsbury and Francine Rivers for hours.

And finally, my youngest sister. This is my kindred spirit. Any book I suggests, she reads. Any time she wants a new genre, character, or place she comes to me. We can talk books and geek out about them for hours.

I am truly lucky. My life has been filled with books and much of that is because of my siblings. They helped fill my life with books, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Go out and share a book with one of your siblings.

Keep Sparkling

-B

The Decline of Poetry?

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Someone told me recently that poetry doesn’t matter. I was aghast! I was astonished! I was …. annoyed. They claimed it was just for “old times like the 1800s”. Poetry. Beautiful lyrical poetry. It…. doesn’t matter? Really?

What about all those songs you listen to on the radio? Isn’t that poetry?

“Then you smiled over your shoulder
For a minute, I was stone-cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest
And you asked me to stay over
I said, I already told ya
I think that you should get some rest

I knew I loved you then
But you’d never know
‘Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go
I know I needed you
But I never showed
But I wanna stay with you until we’re gray and old
Just say you won’t let go
Just say you won’t let go

I’ll wake you up with some breakfast in bed
I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head
And I’ll take the kids to school
Wave them goodbye
And I’ll thank my lucky stars for that night “

James Arthur- Say you won’t let go. Isn’t that a beautiful thought? Doesn’t this create a beautiful picture in your mind? Tell me this isn’t poetry.

I read a review of one of my favorite books of poetry on Goodreads and the person claimed that if it doesn’t rhyme it’s not poetry. Really? It’s not? I wanted to comment “pretentious much?” I didn’t! But I thought about it.

One of my professors from college was a poet. He has multiple books published. In fact he donated some to a facility for juveniles that were struggling and making poor life choices. You wouldn’t believe how much his poetry spoke to some of them. They weren’t kids who I could ever get to read a novel, but they would read one or two… or seven of his poems. Once they got started it was hard for them to stop. You should check out some of his poetry, it’s really good! Here’s a link to his website. http://www.poetcrisler.com/index.php

Poetry is so beautifully complex and yet simple. In the movie “In Her Shoes” one of the main characters struggles to read. The blind man that she is reading to assures her, “It’s okay. Poetry is supposed to be slow”. She reads a few poems in the movie but my favorite that she reads is by E.E. Cummings.

“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”

Tell me that isn’t beautiful! I relate to this in such deeps ways in regards to my friendship. This one poem can be related to so many different relationships. It’s so versatile!

Amanda Lovelace’s book “The Princess Saves Herself in this One” is incredibly powerful! She encourages the princess to save herself! To slay her own dragons! To leave the tower and go heal! I read her book through in one day. Then I read it two more times. Then I bought three copies so I could give two away. It’s amazingly healing to hear that I’m not the only woman who has been hurt. That someone else understands. Here’s a link to her site https://amandalovelace.com/index.html

Poetry is important. There are things that can be expressed in poetry that cannot be expressed elsewhere. There is a beauty to the way that the words are crafted. The way such few words on a page can have such a big emotional impact. Poetry is important. In a world where everything moves fast, poetry allows us to go slow. So let’s take a moment and appreciate poetry. Let’s appreciate the beauty in the slow things.

Keep Sparkling

-B

Power of the People

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The big guy vs. the little guy

David vs. Goliath

Newsies vs. Pulitzer

Matilda vs. the Education System

Hamilton vs. Everyone

People have taken on big problems over and over and over again throughout literature and history. Fans have much more power than they give themselves credit for.

The book “The Siren” by Kiera Cass, known for her series “The Selection”, was initially rejected from publishers. No one wanted it. She kept pursuing it and no one wanted it. So she tried something else. She published her Selection series and she gained fans. Her fans desperately wanted more from her. The fans DEMANDED that the publishers give them “The Siren” and thus the book was published. Fans have such power!

Look at the Marvel fandom. Fans kept demanding to see “Avengers Infinity War” and the release date kept getting moved up by the studio. They had that much power!

Fans have this kind of power! What we choose to read influences publishers. What we choose to give to our students influences how they will interpret the world around them. We have that power.

Look at you. One beautiful, brilliant person on this planet. Every time you interact with someone, the world changes a little bit. Every time you choose to have courage and do something scary, you change the world. You matter that much.

William P. Young writes in his book “The Shack”, “If anything matters then everything matters. Because you are important, everything you do is important. Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes; with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again”. That’s how much you matter. You change the universe.

So wield that power for good. Choose to make your voice heard on things that matter. Whether it’s writing a book, demanding a novel be published, changing the way you interact with people that frustrate you, or just choosing kindness. Wield your power. Change the world.

Keep Sparkling,

-B

Speak Epilogue

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I mentioned in my last post that I would be sharing the Epilogue to “Speak” by Laurie Halse Anderson. I take no credit for the characters or the book. It is all her beautiful work. I’ve kept her formatting from the book.


Therapy

 I have a “therapist” now. Not a counselor. She’s corrected me many times. I didn’t know what the difference was so I looked it up online. I still couldn’t tell you what the difference is but it’s nice to have someone listen anyways. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I don’t. My parents insisted I get therapy when they found out what had happened. They didn’t know how to talk to me about it and they don’t have much practice listening. At least this lady listens. I know she does. That’s what we pay her for.

Hairwoman

Hairwoman sent me a card. I guess I could call her by her name. I’ve never thought about it before. Mrs. Brighton. Her name seems nice. Like she’s bringing sunshine. Her card talked about how I emulate Hester from Hawthorne. She’s glad I learned about symbolism in her class this year. She thinks Hawthorne can help me process. She’s also sorry she didn’t do more to help me feel like I was “safe”. It was nice of her. She was wrong, but nice. There was nothing she could have done to change things. I know she means well so I smile at her card and put it in my drawer for safe keeping. At least she tried. That’s what I need to do now. Try.

Andy

After the lacrosse team found me someone ran for help. The “safety officer”, aka lazy cop who sits around the office, came and escorted Andy into the guidance counselor’s office. When the real cops showed up Nicole told them what she saw. I told them what happened today, and last summer. No surprise- they hauled him out in cuffs and I haven’t seen him since. My lawyer says I’ll have to testify in court but I’m not so worried anymore. Now that I’ve shared the story a few times, it’s not as hard.

Nicole

Nicole is my champion. She has done nothing but tell everyone in school how great I am and how much Andy sucks. She threw her arm over my shoulder after they found me in the closet and it felt like I belonged there. Like she and her lacrosse buddies would always protect me and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. It’s summer now so I won’t see her but I get a phone call at least once a week inviting me to play tennis. I may take her up on it one of these days.

Closet Space

I haven’t sat in my closet at home in awhile. I guess it doesn’t really feel like I need it anymore. Closets. Small Spaces. Slowly those things don’t matter to me as much as they used to. I guess I’m moving forward. Slowly.

Mr. Neck

Mr. Neck and I have a bit of an understanding now. When it all came out about Andy he called me in to talk to him. Told me he was raising my D on my extra credit report to a B. I was shocked. I thanked him. He gruffly told me, “I didn’t get why you weren’t talking. Seemed like you were being defiant. Still not sure I get it. If you stay silent then Andy wins. The suffragettes spoke up.” His face softened momentarily and went back to being strong. “You wrote an excellent report. I hope you’re proud of it.” I smile.

Heather

Heather tried to come around. She left a note taped to my locker.

“Mel, I’m so sorry that happened to you! I was the worst. I can’t believe I dumped you for the stupid Marthas. You should have told me what was happening! I could have done something to help you. Call me!”

I want to write her back and say, “You are the worst. Have fun being miserable, Bitch”. It’s pathetic. I know it’s pathetic. I don’t write her back. I know that being kind is more important so I throw it in the trash can. Maybe Heather will get her wish and her Father will move them to Dallas.

Parents

Mom and Dad look at me like I’ve got bird bones. Like I’m wounded, which I guess I am. Dad doesn’t bring IT up and neither do I. Mom is constantly asking me if I want to talk about it. I don’t. She’s cut back on her hours at the store. “Family crisis” I hear her say on the phone. Yep. A crisis. I’m the crisis, except this time she actually knows why.

Dad and I play Tennis now. Mom calls it “Father-Daughter Bonding”. Like she’s trying to stick us together with super glue. I don’t mind. Dad takes me out for lunch and asks about my summer plans. It’s nice. We don’t talk about IT. Andy. We don’t talk about Andy. I need to start calling him by his name (so my therapist tells me). Dad and I don’t talk about Andy. He starts to say something and almost always stops himself. He cares. It’s nice. He can’t say it, but I can see that he cares.

Mom and Dad don’t fight like they used to. Or maybe they do, just not around me. I don’t know. But they’ve started doing some of that flirty crap. Mom lays her hand on Dad’s knee. Dad wraps his arms around mom’s waste from behind and they cuddle. I pretend to be embarrassed when they do it, but it’s really kind of nice.

It’s nice to see what love is supposed to look like. To see them appreciating each other. After what happened, it’s just nice to know.

Mr. Freeman

Telling Mr. Freeman was hard, but good. He had compassionate eyes the whole time. When I got done I felt like I had deflated. Like I was a balloon with all these toxic gasses inside and I had finally been freed of them. I bet if they weighed me I would be ten pounds lighter. Mr. Freeman told me I was brave and that my trees showed I was brave. I wasn’t so sure about that part. My trees?

He’s teaching a class over the summer. It’s about painting nature. He gave me the information. Maybe I’ll invite Ivy and we can take it together.

Ivy

Ivy and I have gotten closer since this happened. She wants to talk about my turkey bone sculpture and how it symbolizes what happened to me. I don’t want to talk about it so I just let her say what she’s thinking. She’s right though. I see everything she is saying. It does symbolize my pain and torment but it no longer symbolizes me. No longer picked over turkey bones. I’m an in-process person now. A partial person. I’m learning how to become whole again, and Ivy’s friendship is a big part of that.

Rachel

I called Rachel, eventually. She was sorry. So sorry. She showed up at my house with cookies and stuff to make friendship bracelets like we were six. We ate the cookies and made friendship bracelets. She leaves in a week for France. She asked if I wanted her to bring me anything back. I told her I just wanted my best friend back. She grinned at me and said, “no problem.”

David Petrakis

David and I are hanging out now. He doesn’t come to my house. I’m not sure I’m ready for him to meet The Parents. But, I go to his house for pizza with his parents. They like me. I smile at them. Real smiles now. David has this great swing set out back that he used to play on when he was little. We like to sit on the swings and talk. It’s …. Nice.

Turns out David is really good at Frisbee. A nice no-contact sport. So we throw the Frisbee around at least once a week. He told me that he can give me pointers if I want, just to let him know. We both know that means that he would be touching me. Wrapping his arm around mine to show me how to throw it. Breathing the same air. Standing close together. I shrug and throw the Frisbee so badly we both double over with laughter. We’re both surprised when, few weeks later, “Can you come show me how to throw this better?” pops out of my mouth.

Healing

The scabs on my lips are almost gone. My soul no longer feels fractured, just bruised. I’m moving forward. David keeps talking about all these great things he thinks I’m going to do with my life. I’m not so sure. At this point my goal is simple. My therapist helped me come up with it. It’s simply this. Allow myself to live life.