In terms of reading about Meriwether Lewis’ life and expedition to the Pacific, I found Stephen Ambrose’s Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson, and the Opening of the American West to be disappointing as well. The book was dull in writing style, in research, and in cliché phrases. Just as with last month’s book club pick, I probably would not have read it if not for the upcoming get together. In fact, I would have abandoned this book completely if the group leader had not asked me to lead the discussion (she is out of town).

The Expedition and Story

I did find the history of the Lewis and Clark expedition rather fascinating. In an era before any transportation except boats, horses, and one’s own feet, Lewis, along with his co-Capitan William Clark, traveled from St. Louis (Lewis originally came from Washington, D.C.), to the Oregon coast and back again (8000 miles) by crossing the most formidable and then unknown mountains (in Idaho) in many feet of snow. His task was to travel through the newly purchased territory of Louisiana, converse with the Native American groups (and informing them that the United States now owned that land), find the head of the Missouri river, and hopefully find the long-desired Northwest Passage to the Pacific Ocean. All tasks were attempted with great diligence and much adventure, although of course there was no Northwest Passage.

I enjoyed learning about Lewis and he surely seemed uniquely able to lead such an expedition. In the first 100 pages, which were about his childhood, I kept imagine him as a hobbit, especially when it was mentioned that he went hunting in bare feet in the winter snow. Lewis seemed to be a complicated man, but his relationship with in his co-leader Clark and his confidence in the success of the mission and the abilities of his men gave him a manner that I highly respect. Despite his character faults and the subsequent tragedies (like his suicide) which were to come upon his return to society, he was mostly grounded and certainly a leader to be admired while leading his expedition. The last 80 pages, which were about his life after the expedition and his suicide, were quite heart-breaking since I spent so many pages admiring his bravery and leadership.

Meeting some Natives on the lower Colombia River

However, even though the expedition, its goals, its adventures, and its people were quite fascinating, I had a sense of unease as I read about it, mostly because of the jingoism of the Americans towards the natives. In particular, I despised Jefferson’s and Lewis’ ideas of bringing the natives in to submission to the United States. These were young, rough frontiersmen showing up with beads and saying, “This is your new father” as they handed them a likeness of Thomas Jefferson. I was offended for the sake of the natives, who were consistently referred to as “children” and “savages,” and discussed by the expedition as though they needed to be overcome. The expedition could survive in neither the harsh Northern Montana weather nor the mild but wet Oregon weather. Rather, during both winters the travelers need the food and expertise that the natives provided.

Further, I hated that the expedition never seemed to acknowledge that they were the ones trespassing.  My book club chose a book about Lewis and Clark because they wanted something “patriotic” for the month of July. This was not a patriotic story: it was disgusting to me. The horrible thing was that this really happened, and this is not the fiction I wished it was. While I certainly can appreciate that times were different then, it is no less disturbing. I feel sick to my stomach when I realize how my American predecessors treated the natives in this country.

The Book

I did not know much about the Lewis and Clark expedition before I picked up Undaunted Courage, and I’m amazed that such an adventure was told in such a dry manner in Mr. Ambrose’s book. He quotes from other sources extensively¹, and he gives insignificant details such as exactly which path the adventurers followed at each point of the day and on which corner of the campsite was the latrine².  But as the Corps of Discovery is being attacked by a bear, the text is quite matter-of-fact. Seriously? Isn’t this exciting?

I did breathe a sigh of relief when the company made it back to St. Louis (civilization), so the book was a tense and therefore a somewhat exciting read.  Being previously unfamiliar with the expedition, I had not known how it would work out. But this excitement was due to the events as they happened, not Undaunted Courage. If I read one more “and this was the first time west of _[fill in the landmark]_ that an American did _[fill in the event]_”, I decided I would figuratively throw the book out the window. (It’s a library book, hence the “figuratively” qualification). Personally, I don’t really care if no other American before 1804 had an Independence Day celebration west of some important landmark. Is that really such a red-letter day? I guess I’m not easily impressed with “firsts” like that. Especially since I felt that it wasn’t really America but native lands that the Americans were appropriating from the Native Americans without their permission.

Buffalo skin bull boats

On the other hand, I wish there was more explanation about, for example, a group that had their horses stolen by Indians, made themselves a bullboat, and met up with the group. That sounds quite interesting. But what I’ve just said was all I know. Mr. Ambrose rarely expounded on such tantalizing events.

Mr. Ambrose also had the tendency to “wax poetic” with his own ideas. For example, just before Lewis committed suicide, Mr. Ambrose spent more than a page wondering what Lewis was thinking about at that moment, and listing out all the marvelous sites Lewis had seen and adventures he had had while on his expedition. This seemed nothing short of inappropriate for a biographer. I don’t mind seeing a little bit of the biographer, but the bulk of a text should be on the facts, and supposing the man’s thoughts for such a long section seemed completely irrelevant, especially since Lewis, as an obviously mentally distressed man about to commit suicide, most likely was not pondering the beauty of the Idaho mountains. This, and other such tangents, gave the book a decidedly ridiculous aspect.

I’ve mentioned before that I am an avid note reader. Mr. Ambrose’s endnotes are not worth referring to. Ninety-nine times in a hundred, they simply refer us to the source that said what Ambrose had just reiterated. The endnotes never elucidated the facts. Undaunted Courage was a book that could have been written in notes; instead, mundane details are put directly in the text. With some better organization and a lot of editing, the book would have been 150 pages shorter. (It was 485 pages as it was.)

Meriwether Lewis and William Clark

I hope I am not misunderstood. I am a fan of history and biography, and I normally like history books. It may be that my current reading ADD has affected my enjoyment of this book. It could be that summer weather distractions have made me harder to please. It could be that I’m the wrong audience for this book, and it would be much better appreciated by a true Lewis-and-Clark buff. Then all the day-to-day details may have been very important. Nonetheless, I seriously disliked Mr. Stephen Ambrose’s book, and wish I had read different book to learn about Lewis and Clark. That’s really the bottom line.

That said, I’m off to pull some information together so we can have a nice book club discussion, regardless of this book. (I don’t think most people will have read it at all, let alone in full. I don’t know if that makes me more annoyed at having to suffer through it or relieved that we can just talk about the expedition…)

• Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage by Joe Wheeler
• My Victorian Summer: We Two by Gillian Gill and Armadale by Wilkie Collins + Reading Journal
• God’s Bits of Wood by Sembene Ousmane
• Daughter of Destiny by Benazir Bhutto
• Social Issues in Literature: Depression
• Twenty Years at Hull-House by Jane Addams
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al
• On Writing by Stephen King
• Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt

So, I suppose it is not surprising that Lewis Buzbee’s memoir of bookstores, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, did not do much for me. It is a combination of a history of bookselling and a memoir of his own addiction to bookstores, and I spent the bulk of the book wishing it was about a love of books or a love of the written word or a love of a specific author. I was the wrong audience, and I had been hoping for a different book. I also speed read it in order to have a post ready for the Spotlight Series today. If I hadn’t made that commitment, I’d probably not have finished it at all or I’d have read it slower. Maybe if I had not read it all at once, I would not have been as irritated by parts of it. I’m not a memoir person, and this volume reinforced that.

The history portion of The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop was at times quite interesting. However, the lack of footnotes or references of any kind made me suspicious. When I read nonfiction, I want to see sources. While I don’t doubt that Mr. Buzbee researched for this book and wrote true facts in the history portions, I wish I’d read the facts in a nonfiction history of bookstores, complete with references, rather than in a pseudo-memoir. There is no author’s note indicating where he did his research, and this detracted from the book for me.

And then the memoir portion honestly bored me, as memoirs often do.  I didn’t particularly like Mr. Buzbee, and details like his admission to stealing books from bookstores as a kid really did nothing to endear him to me. His personal stories of bookstores revealed an obsession that I could not relate to, and his comments about the insignificance of e-readers were hilarious in the lack of foresight (he wrote in 2005). I can’t blame him for that, I suppose, but as a whole such little details made him seem rather ridiculous to me. I found there to be little love of the ideas from books detailed in this memoir. There was some, but it more about acquiring the books rather than reading them. I cannot relate to that.

I like books. In fact, I love them. But most of the time, it is for the words, ideas, and stories in them, and not for the place from which I purchased it. As such, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop was not a memoir I related to.

All that said, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop is a very attractive slim hardcover volume with deckled pages. If I was compulsive book buyer that frequented bookshops, I suspect that upon noticing The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, it would have been one that could end up in my possession for the prettiness factor. Since I am not a compulsive book buyer, I’m glad this was just a free library read.

• Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
• Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea by Guy Delisle
• My Victorian Summer: We Two by Gillian Gill and Armadale by Wilkie Collins + Reading Journal
• Why Women Should Rule the World by Dee Dee Myers
• On Writing by Stephen King
• Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling
• Library Summer Reading Programs Completed!
• How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster
• Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman by Richard Feynman

Nevertheless, in a few years, when I’ve (hopefully) read a greater amount of Victorian literature, I’ll have to revisit the collection. I think having actually read the major novels they are talking about would make it even more enjoyable!

I first heard of this collection on Wuthering Expectations. Although the idea of Victorian essays about Victorian novels was an attractive one, what worried me was that I haven’t read enough Victorian literature to understand the essays. Amateur Reader’s response to that worry was this:

One thing to remember about Maitzen’s anthology – the essays are written by actual Victorians, so they haven’t read most of the classic Victorian novels, either, particularly the ones published after they are writing. And they have read mountains of books no one reads any more. So it all sort of averages out.

I think he expressed it perfectly. I have only read, probably, a dozen Victorian novels in my life. But it did not, for the most part, matter as I read the essays. In their essays, the Victorians were quoting the contemporary literature and the major contributions in the 1700s (of which I have read nothing, expect for Robinson Crusoe). But their essays revolved around issues: What is the purpose of a novel? Do these novels have morals, and should they? How do these novels reflect our society? None of the essayists question in so many words, but that is what I got out of their essays.

I don’t have lots of deep things to say about the essays I read. I think I’ll have to leave the analysis to the student at the University of Chicago who has requested this copy of the book and therefore cut my time with it short. I’m just an inexperienced beginning reader of Victorian lit who found this collection of essays by chance (thanks to the blogosphere). I really liked them. As I read an essay, I would think, “Oh, now this is the one I like best!” and then I’d begin the next essay and feel the same way.

One great example was George Eliot’s essay on “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists” (written 1856). This essay is about the novels that have, shall we say, not endured the test of time. This essay, then, was somewhat similar to an essay by Margaret Atwood or maybe Toni Morrison writing about the qualities (or lack thereof) of Harlequin Romances (although, it should be noted, that the silly novels in question all had an underlying religious message, so therefore were not like a modern romance novel in any way). The quotes Eliot shared from these “silly novels” were outrageous to me and I enjoyed laughing. The fact is that no, I do not want to read all types of Victorian fiction. I just want to read the well-written, well-developed Victorian fiction, that which has withstood the test of time and remains somewhat pertinent today.

Some thoughts from George Eliot on the subject:

To judge from their writings, there are certain ladies who think that an amazing ignorance, both of science and of life, is the best possible qualification for forming an opinion on the knottiest moral and speculative questions. (page 134)

Every art which has its absolute technique is, to a certain extent, guarded from the intrusions of mere lef-handed imbecility. But in novel-writing there are no barriers for incapacity to stumble against, no external criteria to prevent a writer from mistaking foolish facility for mastery. … [I commend this] at parting, to the consideration of any feminine reader who is in danger of adding to the number of “silly novels by lady novelists.” (page 144)

I also was quite intrigued by Margaret Oliphant’s essay “Modern Novelists – Great and Small” (written in 1855) and now I want to try one of her novels! I also liked the essay “Sensation Novels” by Henry Mansel (1863) simply because I’ve enjoyed the Wilkie Collins sensation novels I’ve read. These novels are mostly ridiculous in their plots, I know, and that was the fun thing about the essay because I could see all some of his criticisms and yet I didn’t care. On the other hand, he seemed to keep coming back to the bad moral lessons found in them. From my sensation novel experience, I have found that the bad guys seemed to lose in the end, but maybe I haven’t found the really “immoral” ones yet, he he he.²

In fact, many of the essays seemed to worry about the bad messages in the novels, something that doesn’t surprise me about Victorian literary criticism.

Although the aim of all fictitious literature is primarily to interest the reader … it would yet seem as if recently the determination to achieve that special kind of interest which consists in mere amusement, had prevailed too largely among our writers of tales and novels.  (David Masson, “Thackeray and Dickens,” 1851; page 43)

“We cannot conceal our estimate of the importance of this department of literature as medium for the diffusion, or at least the maintenance, of sound and healthy views of moral and religious responsibility.” (C.W. Russell, Novel-Morality: The Novels of 1853; page 102)

And to my surprise, even an old favorite of mine, Jane Eyre, was called in to question:

To say that Jane Eyre is positively immoral or anti-Christian, would be to do its writer an injustice. Still it wears a questionable aspect. … Let [the author of Jane Eyre] take care that while she detects and exposes humbug in other minds, she does not suffer it to gain dominion in her own. … Let her be a little more trustful of the reality of human goodness, and a little less anxious to detect its alloy of evil.” (Anonymous, Review of Jane Eyre, 1848; page 26)

Maybe because I mostly read the first essays in the collection (they were in publication order) or maybe because it’s one of the major novels I have actually read. At any rate, I felt I read a lot about Jane Eyre.³ It seemed to come up in most essays in one way or another. Obviously, it was an influential novel from that day. Since I love it so much, I especially appreciated Margaret Oliphant’s tribute to Charlotte Bronte.

No one in her time has grasped with such extraordinary force the scenes and circumstances through which her story moved; no one has thrown as strong an individual life into place and locality. Her passionate and fearless nature, her wild, warm heart, are transfused into the magic world she has created – a world which no one can enter without yielding to the irresistible fascination of her personal influence. Perhaps no other writer of her time has impressed her mark so clearly on contemporary literature, or drawn so many followers into her own peculiar path; and she leaves no one behind worthy to take the preeminent and leading place of the author of Jane Eyre. (Margaret Oliphant, Modern Novelists – Great and Small, 1855; page 120)

And with that, I’ll leave The Victorian Art of Fiction for now. I barely touched the surface of the essay collection, and each essay deserves its own lengthy response. I particularly miss the articles just about Dickens and Trollope essay about novel-reading. I wonder what other little gems I’m missing?

Maybe after I’ve read more Dickens (I’ve only read 3novels), Eliot (I’ve only read one), Trollope (none), the Brontes (one), the big novels of the 1700s (gulp), and … when will this list end? …, then I’ll return to the contemporary criticism of the era. For someone who likes criticism like me, I suspect it will be a nice reunion.

Do you like to read literary criticism?

• Introducing: My Victorian Summer
• The Book That Changed My Life, edited by Roxanne J. Coady and Joy Johannesson + Giveaway
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• My Victorian Summer: We Two by Gillian Gill and Armadale by Wilkie Collins + Reading Journal
• Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome (narrated by Martin Jarvis)
• Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
• Reading Journal (21 Oct): Victorian Second Helpings + Giveaway of an Abandoned Book
• My Introduction to the Harlem Renaissance
• The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens

I only wished, as I listened, that there was more of it. Only when I was nearly finished listening did I realize it was an abridgement of a longer book. (I hate it when that happens.) Still, there was something doubly wonderful about listening to President Obama narrating himself his hopes for the future of America. I’m not sure I would have loved it as much if I’d read it.

I consider myself neither a Democrat nor a Republican, neither a liberal nor a conservative. Although some of my political thoughts do lean one way or the other, I like to think of myself as a middle of the road citizen of the United States. Many of Barack Obama’s “thoughts on reclaiming the American dream,” resonated with my middle-of-the-road stance.

Listening to Barack Obama’s thoughts on his family and the future was purely delightful. I can’t really think of any other way to say it. While occasionally I’d think to myself “I really am not concerned about the issue he’s talking about” or “I don’t really agree,” for the most part, I enjoyed hearing his thoughts.

I’ve found that audiobooks are rather hard for me to write about, especially when, at less than 7 hours long, I finish it in a week and a half of driving around town. Not many solid details remain with me, but I did enjoy the time I spent listening. I think my favorite parts were the personal stories he shared of visiting with people across Illinois, meeting his wife and what it was like balancing his busy career, her career and their newborn daughters. Since I enjoyed his personal stories so much, I’m tempted to now go listen to his other book, his memoir of growing up.

If I’d been on the ball, I’d have written about this audiobook for Audiobook week as hosted by Devourer of Books. Or, I’d have had it posted this last weekend in time to suggest it’s a U.S. Independence Day post! As it is, I enjoyed it and would recommend it, albeit with the knowledge that the audiobook is unfortunately abridged.

What audiobook have you listened to lately?

• The John Cheever Audio Collection
• Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman
• Abandoned Book: Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
• What is Reading? and Audiobook Review of The Book Thief
• The Midwife’s Apprentice by Karen Cushman
• Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
• Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts
• Lincoln: A Photobiography by Russell Freedman
• Ongoing and Personal Challenges – 2009
• A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

I never intended that my first post for My Victorian Summer would come a full month after the inauguration of my project, but I’ve found that with summer weather, long books, and family in town, my blogging is becoming less of a priority than before. To my surprise, I’m okay with this. I may continue to leave things rather “hands off” for the next little while. Maybe I’ll get back into a blogging groove at some point, but for now, I’m living my life.

The two Victorian-esque books I have finished this month are completely different.

We Two: Victoria and Albert, Rulers, Partners, and Rivals by Gillian Gill is a non-fiction biography of the monarch and her husband. It was not, of course, written during the Victorian era, but I read it to get a sense of what made the Victorian Era a distinct era. I found the biography quite fascinating, even if the relationship between Queen Victoria and her husband Prince Albert was not quite as satisfyingly romantic as Hollywood made out in The Young Victoria.

Armadale by Wilkie Collins, on the other hand, was a fantastic sensation novel from the 1860s, complete with dual and mistaken identities, poison, attempted murder, and above all superstition. While the almost-700-page novel seemed a little slow to begin, the convoluted plots and depth of characters made it a satisfying and delicious book to devour.

I also share my current Reading Journal below.

We Two by Gillian Gill

I loved watching The Young Victoria, a recent Hollywood portrayal of Queen Victoria’s courtship and early marriage to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. That movie prompted me to go on my “Victorian Summer” reading frenzy. Reading the true story of the couple’s life together was a bit disappointing after Hollywood, simply because theirs was rather a non-romantic and more practical relationship. We Two: Victoria and Albert, Rulers, Partners, and Rivals by Gillian Gill provided a biography of both Victoria and Albert’s youth and then a biography of their life together until Albert’s premature death at age 42 of typhoid fever.

Princess Victoria of Kent was just a few months past eighteen when her Uncle passed away, leaving her Queen of England. Her first eighteen years of life were sheltered by her overbearing mother and her mother’s power-hungry associate Sir John Conroy in Kensington Castle. So upon receiving sovereign authority, she was determined to rule her way. She did not want to marry. She wanted to make a difference for her nation, which she loved.

For the first three years of her reign, she worked closely with Prime Minister Lord Melbourne, making mistakes but really putting her all in to her work. Yet, after a few years at court, she found that she longed for male companionship; her cousin, Prince Albert, had been groomed since childhood to be her husband, and so she consented to the marriage. It is evident that the two were quite fond of each other and certainly in love, but theirs was a convenient marriage: neither really seemed to have much choice about who they married.

Reading of Victoria’s and Albert’s life was somewhat of a tutorial in gender and family politics in England in the 1800s. The fact that Victoria was a married female altered her ability to rule England in part because of the Albert’s view of women; Albert was the one who made a political difference for much of their married life.

Had Queen Victoria not been quite so fertile (or as Gill points out, had they had any type of understanding of natural birth control), she may have dominated the political scene. She was prepared to lead and be a dominating force. As it was, she had pregnancy after pregnancy for the first two decades of her reign, left physically exhausted by the wear on her body. Also, Prince Albert was raised in a misogynistic environment and therefore seems to have stifled Victoria’s abilities somewhat.

Prince Albert, although not legally a monarch of England, was therefore the behind-the-scenes leader of England. So many of the things that seem definitively “Victorian” are really “Albertian.” His upbringing had been to prepare him to be consort to the isolated and virginal Princess Victoria, and since his family was known for their debauchery, he had been the family exception, raised to conform to a different morality than his brother and uncles. His arrival in the English court may have been what prompted the Victorian morality that we now think of. Further, Albert’s influence on the “Great Exhibition” is also an example of how he influenced England to think ahead. He was fascinated by developing technology, he had an interest in social innovation, and he was well trained in political discourse. He was, like Victoria, a born leader.

Gillian Gill’s biography of the two focused on their relationship, and the book was well researched and engagingly written. It was only a bit disappointing to read the truth, especially of how dominating Prince Albert was. (For example, it was Queen Victoria who always begged forgiveness when there was a disagreement between the two; in their relationship, Prince Albert expected her to see her place as a woman, which was of course below himself.) When their marriage came to an end with Albert’s early death, it was Queen Victoria who had succumbed to Albert’s position on women: no longer was she the strong teenaged queen, eager to make a difference in the world and unexcited about being tied down. When Albert died, she was the dutiful wife who proclaimed the goodness of her dead husband. Despite the fact that she was the sovereign ruler of England, Queen Victoria was also a wife as trapped in the familial duties just as many other women in Victorian England. She did have nannies and fine medical care, but she was still trapped in her role, with a domineering man at her head.

I’m glad I read about Albert and Victoria, even though it was rather disappointing to me. As I read the novels from the era, I think it may help to remember the influence of the queen and her consort. Since I love history, it was also fascinating to see how the family fit in to the international political picture.

I should note that Gill does not come to the same conclusions that I’ve mentioned above in so many words; that’s what I got from their story. At just under 400 pages (plus notes), We Two is not a comprehensive account, and much is left unsaid. Yet, if you are interested in reading the story of Queen Victoria and her husband, We Two is great place to start.

Armadale by Wilkie Collins

And then we go to fiction.

Oh, Wilkie Collins. I love you so much! The Woman in White was delightful and may have been better written than Armadale (a reread is in order to determine if that is so). The Moonstone, as a mystery, was well developed but simply okay for me, a non-mystery person. But Armadale just topped them both in terms of suspense and emotional attachment. No one beats Lydia Gwilt as a complicated villain.

Twenty years ago, two boys named Allan Armadale vied for the attentions of a young woman. Now (in 1851), their two orphaned sons – each also called Allan Armadale – cross paths. The mysterious money-hungry redhead Miss Lydia Gwilt shows up and things get a little bit crazy.

Like the other Wilkie Collins novels I’ve read, Armadale dealt with the question of identity: people had multiple identities and multiple names. It also dealt with generational identity as the Allan Armadale that form the bulk of the action are the children of men of the same name. Armadale seemed to ask questions: Are these young men destined to be their father’s sons? Are they, by nature, destined to similar wrong choices, for example? Collins also drew heavily on superstition because the story keeps circling back to Allan Armadale’s mysterious dream. Do these characters have choices or are events destined?

Another theme that seemed central was the one I most enjoyed, the question of good and evil. The first two hundred pages of this chunkster seemed a bit slow, but once Lydia Gwilt began to interact with the men at Thorpe Ambrose, I did not want to put it down. Miss Gwilt is a villain through and through, but I couldn’t help feel sorry for her. Wilkie Collins doesn’t quite excuse her actions but as we progressively learn more about her, the story truly becomes hers and we see a bit of where she is coming from. I liked her, ridiculous and bad as she was even on good days. I absolutely loved how Collins created her character, for she makes this story the fascinating page-turner that it is. She was captivating in a way no one else in the novel was. Collins gave us pages of her journal (progressively more throughout the book) so we’d see just what she was thinking and how she was developing. Though the book is called Armadale, I believe that Miss Gwilt is the main character within it.

Collins puts in plenty of excitement (poison, attempted murder, coincidence, and a lunatic asylum), yet it is utterly convincing and real. I feel I have barely touched on the main points and the depth that is in Armadale. Believe me when I say it is a fun ride.

For more insights into the novel, see Shelf Love, Bibliolatry, Novel Insights, Becky’s Book Reviews, and Savidge Reads.

Reading Journal (30 June)

I’m trying to let go of schedules a little bit more and just read what I want. I have so many Victorian reads on my radar I could just read Victorian for the rest of the year!

Recently Finished: The Audacity of Hope (audiobook, abridged) by Barack Obama

Recently Abandoned (for now): The Inferno by Dante, Hollander translation (I may have a post about this abandonment)

In Progress: Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell (for My Victorian Summer); Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome (audiobook, for My Victorian Summer); Love in a Fallen City by Eileen Chang (for Orbis Terrarum/Asia); Nineteenth-Century Russian Reader (for Imperial Russia Classics Circuit); I Am A Cat by Natsume Soseki (my personal JLit Challenge); Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose (for my other book club)

On Deck: The Art of Victorian Fiction (essays for My Victorian Summer); Great Expectations (for My Victorian Summer); The Stranger and The Plague by Camus (the former for my Classics Reading Group); The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop by Lewis Buzbee (for the Spotlight Series); whatever other books as please my fancy.

• Introducing: My Victorian Summer
• The Life of Wilkie Collins (Biographies by Clarke and Peters)
• The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• May and Milton in May in Review + Challenges Update and Reading Journal
• Reading Journal (16 December): A Classics Circuit TBR List from Wilkie Collins to Harlem
• Reading Journal (21 Oct): Victorian Second Helpings + Giveaway of an Abandoned Book
• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• November in Review + Reading Journal (2 Dec)
• Reading Journal (29 July): Summer Mode to Blog Reading

Jerusalem: The Eternal City, then, has a very specific audience. It is not a universal book about Jerusalem, and its limited audience does give the book some flaws. When I read this book ten years ago, prior to my own experience in Jerusalem, I was in love with everything to do with the city and its history, and this book got me more than a little excited to walk the streets of Jerusalem myself. Despite the flaws, I still enjoyed rereading Jerusalem: The Eternal City, and it reminded me of my time there.

Some of the flaws might be considered strengths. The ancient sections about the city rely almost exclusively on Biblical histories, and for those who want a scriptural overview of Jerusalem’s history, Jerusalem: The Eternal City amply provides that. The sections on modern political situations and possible solutions, while very interesting and seemingly balanced, did seem immature from my own immature political perspective. Of course, because the book is now 15 years old, such political perspectives may simply outdated. Each of the later chapters focused on a different part of recent history (political, religious, etc.) and were therefore repetitive about some historic events.

Finally, as a religious person myself, I did enjoy the religious perspectives of the book, but found myself hoping for more anthropological and archeological history in addition to the religious details. I think anyone approaching this book needs to understand that it’s a religious history and discussion before anything else. It’s not meant to balanced.

For me, the most interesting sections were those on Jerusalem at the Meridian of time (how the city was during the life of Christ) and the subsequent history of Jerusalem during the nearly two millennia that followed. (It started feeling repetitive during the discussions of the 1800s and after.) It was fascinating to see how three different dominant religions found the land and that specific city central to their faith. The later chapters, about possible religious futures for the city were, from a religious perspective, very interesting, and I liked reading the collection of scriptures about the city, all in one place.

Finally, because I had the opportunity to stay in the Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies, I was fascinated to read how such a center came about. I also have a separate book about the Center (Grafting In: A History of the Latter-day Saints in the Holy Land by Steven W. Baldridge), and I liked how Jerusalem: The Eternal City had the Center’s history condensed into one chapter. What I enjoyed about this history is how the Center was built into the land, and that the entire purpose to the center is historical and religious education (for college-aged American Christians) and unification of people and personality. It is right on the border between the West Bank and the city of Jerusalem, and when I lived there, the Center employed both Arabs and Jews, as well as Christians, a highly unusual arrangement. I am not sure that my 19-year-old self realized how unusual it was to have Arabs and Jews working side by side in the cafeteria in a West Bank educational center.

Since I read Jerusalem: The Eternal City as a reminder of my six to eight weeks living in Jerusalem (we also spent some time in Galilee, Jordan, and Egypt, although Jerusalem was our base), I think it might be appropriate to share some of my photos of the most beautiful city on earth. (A rabbi said that whoever has not seen Jerusalem in all its splendor has never seen a beautiful city in his life, quoted on page 2).

I used a dozen rolls of film when I was there. In retrospect I wish it had been the age of digital photography, since then I’d have taken more than twice as many photographs!

(Note: Click on a picture to see it larger. I scanned these pictures from the prints I have; they are out a bit fuzzy and somewhat out of focus. I was not a photographer and my camera was not an impressive one.)

The Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies (where I lived for 8 weeks). Hebrew University can be seen in the background.

The Western Wall

My study abroad group at the Dome of the Rock (I am in the second row for the bottom, sixth from the left)

View of the City of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives

Golgotha in two different seasons (the top is June when I left the area, the bottom is from April when I first arrived)

The Garden Tomb (my favorite retreat)

Me at the Garden Tomb

I read Jerusalem: The Eternal City in May and the first half of June as my project book.

• Palestine by Joe Sacco
• Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman + Giveaway (Used Book)
• Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss
• Moses, Man of the Mountain by Zora Neale Hurston
• Love in a Fallen City and Other Stories by Eileen Chang
• Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea by Guy Delisle
• Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan
• Chicago Poems by Carl Sandburg
• Nineteenth-Century Mormon Architecture and City Planning by C. Mark Hamilton
• The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

In the case of Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea, Guy Delisle’s perspective may be one of the few such memoirs of a visit to North Korea. Although I knew that North Korea was a communist nation, the facts that Delisle shares of his two months working there are quite astonishing. It’s hard to believe that such a dystopian country exists contemporary to my own. For the less ignorant, Pyongyang won’t be a shock. Regardless, the comic reads like a novel, and I’m glad for the glimpse into a world I didn’t quite know existed as such.

I wondered a little bit, as I read, if Delisle had this book in mind when he began his trip. The novel he decides to bring with him is George Orwell’s 1984, and he seems to seek out edgy things to say and do. Yet, maybe it was hard not to. Pyongyang the city had no entertainment and as a new visitor, I’m sure I’d likewise be clueless. Before reading this, I didn’t realize that Orwell’s 1984 was a reality in a nation on the earth.

The similarities between 1984 and the North Korean world Delisle portrays are striking. Here are just a few things that seemed right out of Orwell:

• Pictures of Big Brother on the walls (i.e., Kim and Kim Jr.).
• “Volunteers” cutting the grass with a sickle.
• Restaurants named with numbers.
• A classroom of cookie cutter children playing the accordion perfectly (as depicted on the cover).
• The lack of entertainment.
• The lack of contact with the rest of the world.
• The sense of country-worship Delisle’s guides obviously express.
• The lack of any disabled people.
• The fact that everyone informs on everyone else as “spies.”

It was rather scary and certainly uncomfortable.  This is today. This is not a dystopian novel!

Although the political situation was uncomfortable, the graphic novel as a whole was actually quite funny. Delisle was bored, so he found things to do. And he had some great discussions with his guide and his translator. I loved the scene where he asked his translator what he thought of the novel he’d lent him (1984). Oh my, did that man hurry to return the novel. “I don’t like science fiction!” he exclaimed, sweating profusely. I do wonder, though, if North Korean authorities are going to find that man and make him pay for that simple appearance in this novel (similar to the aftermath of newspaper photos of Tiannaman Square). It worried me.

In the end, it was a great read. I learned about the world but I also was entertained. I enjoyed the artwork too. It helped me see this world that seems to foreign from my own.

• Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984) by George Orwell
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud
• Daughter of Destiny by Benazir Bhutto
• Lincoln: A Photobiography by Russell Freedman
• Speeches of Winston Churchill
• The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order by Samuel P. Huntington
• Animal Farm by George Orwell
• The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al

I was once on this site accused of being a book banner because I disliked a book and I was not nice in the comments on this site. When I started a discussion post about it last year, you were all quick to give your opinions on what it means to be a book banner, and to reassure me that I didn’t sound like one. Nevertheless, I have often thought about “book banning” and what does it mean in this day and age.

Reading about the English civil war, the Interregnum, and Restoration England this month has put censorship into perspective. In John Milton’s day, censorship was a reality. In fact, books were required to be licensed by the government. As both a political and religious man who happened to disagree with much of what was happening at various times, Milton certainly did not want to have to get his writings government approved.

Milton’s response to the licensing issue, “Areopagitca,” was praised in a book I read as the best prose in the English language, so I thought I’d read it for my Milton in May project. I am glad I did because to my surprise it was both an engaging read and completely relevant. It reminded me strongly of Paradise Lost and I found it to be a good companion read to that.

The title comes, I learned from the Milton Reading Room, from a tract by Isocrates called Areopagiticus: “Isocrates’s tract, which outlines a program for political reform, specifically mentions the degradation of the judges of the Court of the Areopagus, the highest court in Greece.” The Greek court is thus compared to England’s parliament. Apparently, it also references a speech by Paul in the New Testament (I would not have made that connection on my own).

I intended to write this post about Milton’s views of censorship. There is so much in this 30-page essay. But as I sought out quotes, I kept being drawn to Milton’s commentary on freedom to choose in general, Adam’s choice in Eden, and other aspects that seemed to clarify Milton’s latter purposes in writing Paradise Lost: to “justify the ways of God to man.”

For example, Milton writes about the need for both good and evil in the world. (Quotes come from the Milton Reading Room copy online. Hence, there are no page numbers.)

It was from out the rinde of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and evill as two twins cleaving together leapt forth into the World. And perhaps this is that doom which Adam fell into of knowing good and evill, that is to say of knowing good by evill. As therefore the state of man now is; what wisdome can there be to choose, what continence to forbeare without the knowledge of evill? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian. (italics added)

So Adam, before he had received the “knowledge of good and evil,” could not really know good. And he can only be a good man if he’s been challenged to choose between good and evil. He couldn’t do that in the garden before he’d received the knowledge of the two. A little later, Milton adds:

[M]any there be that complain of divin Providence for suffering Adam to transgresse, foolish tongues! when God gave him reason, he gave him freedom to choose, for reason is but choosing; he had bin else a meer artificiall Adam, such an Adam as he is in the motions. We our selves esteem not of that obedience, or love, or gift, which is of force: God therefore left him free, set before him a provoking object, ever almost in his eyes herein consisted his merit, herein the right of his reward, the praise of his abstinence. Wherefore did he creat passions within us, pleasures round about us, but that these rightly temper’d are the very ingredients of vertu? They are not skilfull considerers of human things, who imagin to remove sin by removing the matter of sin; for, besides that it is a huge heap increasing under the very act of diminishing, though some part of it may for a time be withdrawn from some persons, it cannot from all, in such a universall thing as books are; and when this is done, yet the sin remains entire.

I really like these quotes. Sorry they are long, but I think Milton says it so well.

“Areopagitica” has so much in it. The bottom line is that I need to reread it. Maybe as a part of Banned Books Week, I’ll read it for the great censorship discussion and share some of the details with you. It is very well done. At this point, I just can’t stop seeing it as a parallel to Milton’s later Paradise Lost (which I am, of course, still reading).

I’ll leave you with one more Milton quote, this time a short one:

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.

• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 4-6
• Milton in May (erm, and June): Paradise Lost, Books 10 to 12 + Two Reading Aids
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 7-9
• Milton in May Week 1: Introduction and Paradise Lost Books 1-3
• East of Eden by John Steinbeck
• Any Interest in a May Read-Along of Paradise Lost?
• Milton in May: A Paradise Lost Read-Along
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Milton in May: Comus and Lycidas by John Milton
• Milton in May: Thoughts on Some Early Milton Poems

How to Read a Poem gave me the motivation I desired. Hirsch speaks of poetry with ease and obvious pleasure. As a result, his essays about poetry just exude a “love of poetry” that is contagious (at least to me). Whenever I read poetry, I want to go and write my own. I am in awe of the ability to capture personal emotion and sensory experiences in perfectly crafted stanzas. Reading about how they are crafted only increases my admiration for the mode of writing. Although I still felt the craving to write poetry as I read this book, I also realized a sense of hopelessness in terms of my own creations: I’d rather simply admire other’s poetry.

Hirsch is, apparently, an accomplished poet. Obviously, he is also an incredibly well-read in poetry. These two aspects of Hirsch’s life gave the book a necessary depth and personality. He dosen’t write as an omniscient narrator: instead, he approaches poetry from his own life and experiences, and the result is heartfelt and intensely delicate. His passion for poetry is, I believe, why the second part of the title (“And Fall in Love with Poetry”) is what makes this book worth reading.

As a nonfiction tutorial in reading poetry, however, How to Read a Poem fell flat for me, the 100-page glossary/appendix notwithstanding (I didn’t read most of that). How to Read a Poem helped me approach poetry with greater admiration, but I honestly struggle with the idea of someone “helping” me read a poem. As I’ve read this, I’ve also been concurrently reading a volume of poetry (by Nikki Giovanni). It’s a well-annotated volume, with more than a hundred pages of end-notes explaining each poem, line by line, in terms of subject matter and style. I discovered that, while I’m normally a huge note reader, when it comes to poetry, I want to read poems for the enjoyment factor. I don’t necessarily need “help.” And if a poem is not either written well or intriguing in subject matter to engage my interest naturally, I am probably not going to appreciate the poem, footnotes of clarification not-withstanding.

That said, I will say that learning how poems are successfully formed does add to my appreciation for a poem. As I read the chapter about style (“A Made Thing”) and it discussed villanelles (a poem format that I absolutely love), I felt that seeing how the format created the emotional draw helped me to better love the poems. I “oohed” and “ahhed” over the villanelles. (Is there a collection or anthology just of villanelles? I must read it!)

Ultimately, although I enjoyed the enlightened foray into the “how’s” of poetry, I  wouldn’t suggest How to Read a Poem as a tutorial to poetry. His expansive understanding and personal connection to poetry provides an intruging collection of essays about the subject, but he never seems successfully teach: he only inspires.

For me, that was more than enough. I have added many poets to my “to read” list!

How do you read poetry? Have you had any “training”?

• A Poem in Your Pocket: Introduction to Poetry by Billy Collins
• National Poetry Month + Call for Poetry Posts
• The Norton Introduction to Poetry + My Introduction to Poetry
• Divine Songs by Isaac Watts (Poetry Friday)
• Sailing Alone Around the Room by Billy Collins
• Poetry Friday: Christmas Poems
• A Selection of Poetry by John Donne
• Rose, Where Do You Get that Red? by Kenneth Koch + Reading with Kids Challenge
• Babylon in a Jar: New Poems by Andrew Hudgins
• Poetry for Young People: Lewis Carroll

Yet, despite that not-so-great beginning, I wanted to read more about genetics, so I also picked up The X in Sex by David Bainbridge, which focuses on the genetics of the sex chromosomes. It was a very engaging and easy to understand book, and it has left me even more interested in the chromosomes that make up my body.

Finally, my two-month-old hold request for Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species: A Graphic Adaptation by Michael Keller and illustrated by Nicole Rager Fuller came in too. Although this is not about genetics, it is about the evolutionary biology behind all species, and I found the beautiful graphic perspective to be a nice introduction to Darwin.

DNA by James Watson

Years ago, I’d read James Watson’s The Double Helix. While I don’t remember much about it, I recall it being more a memoir of how the structure of DNA was discovered, rather than about the science itself. I picked up DNA by the same author via a lucky bookmooch, and it is beautiful, full of color illustrations. But I didn’t really enjoy reading it. The best part was the pretty illustrations.

DNA’s biggest flaw was its inconsistent tone. I suspect, and I’m not sure why, that it was a ghost-written book, with James Watson’s name on the cover because he’s the famous scientist who discovered DNA to begin with. I could tell when Watson took over the writing: there were digressions and personal stories. A few chapters were chocked full of scientific explanations for how the double helix works, and I often found myself lost. Other chapters had some scientific explanations but were balanced with discussions of political and social impact of those explanations. Because the book is a glossy book, with color photos, I thought these less scientific chapters should have been the focus. It seems the book was trying to talk to both the experts and the non-experts at the same time.

Then again, maybe my inadequacy in science is to blame. It could be that the majority of the readers of nonfiction who pick this beautiful book up will be able to follow it without a problem.

There were a few things I enjoyed about the book, notably the overview of how genetics and genetic engineering makes the world a better place. I liked to see how genetic engineering of plants, for example, is a way of speeding up the evolutionary biology of plants. In another thousand years, the plants will have figured out how to resist certain bugs, and by producing genetically modified plants now, we are able to help for the better by speeding up the process. I also found the discussion of human genetics interesting, and I look forward to reading more on the subject, albeit in a more non-scientific format.

I finished reading DNA a month ago, and I’ve put off writing a review of it for a month because I’m not sure what else to say. It has plenty of flaws, and a few interesting parts. I’m glad I have the pretty book on my shelf to flip through, but I can’t recommend it for a straightforward overview for the non-scientific among us.

The X in Sex by David Bainbridge

The X in Sex has a steamy cover, which is a bit unrelated from the book. This book is not about sexuality in terms of passion and romance but rather about gender, specifically the sex chromosomes. David Bainbridge’s text seems to match the suggestive attidue of the cover because it is a readable and fascinating scientific look at the power behind the X chromosome.

What is it that makes a person male or female? Normally, it’s the presense of a Y chromosome that makes the developing fetus become male. That seems to be a powerful chromosome, and Bainbridge touches on the Y chromosome in his discussion. In reality, though, it is the X chromosome that has lots behind it. It is much larger than the Y and that is where the differences appear. Bainbridge discusses the sexual development of a fetus, he discusses Y-linked diseases, and he discusses what having two X chromosomes means for women.

The X in Sex is fascinating reading. I never thought about chromosomes before, and Bainbridge approaches the subject in an easy to read and succinct way. The book is about 180 pages, and Bainbridge is obviously comfortable in both science and non-scientific circles. I never once felt “over my head” as I read, and that’s saying something.

I found out about this book thanks to a review on Eva’s blog. Now I want to know more about the chromosomes that make me human – and that make me a unique human at that!

Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species: A Graphic Adapation

As a devoted reader of original classics, I’m not keen on the idea of “rewriting” them or retelling them. Why wouldn’t I read the original? Nonetheless, I decided to give this one a try, and I was not disappointed.

The recent graphic adaptation of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species by Michael Keller (illustrated by Nicolle Rager Fuller) shows that there is a reason for adaptations, and I appreciated the way in which this project was approached: the graphic adaptation is not a retelling nor is it a straight forward portrayal of it. Rather, it is like an abridged annotation, with illustrations, to help get the superficial concepts of Darwin’s theory. It does not replace the original, and I still hope to read it someday, but for me, it gave me a great foundation for understanding what his purposes were.

The challenge to reviewing graphic books is that I can’t quote my favorite passages to illustrate how awesome they are! The pictures and the text or both integral, yet there is a note in the front saying copying in any format is against copyright, so I can’t even take a picture or scan it. When Nymeth reviewed it, she had permission from the illustrator to include a few of the awesome pictures, so definitely go check it out there if you’d like to see the art style.

The thing I loved most about this adaptation is that text with gray background was Darwin’s writing (from the original) and the pictures and text on the pictures were modern examples and illustrations of what he’s talking about. (Note: Some of these examples could have been in Darwin’s text but many of them are modern.) And I trust that all examples given are accurate science as well (when Darwin’s theory has been proven incorrect, the editors make a note), so I loved seeing the examples of the evolution of various animals. Since the pictures were so beautiful and in full color, this is a book that can be poured over.

And yet, one does not need to pour over it. It’s straight-forward, and easy to understand. I’m not intimidated by the Darwin I found in these pages. I still want to experience Darwin’s original text in full. This was, after all, only 190 illustrated pages, so much is left out. But now I know that an annotated text or discussion of Darwin might be a good way to go when I am ready to give Darwin a try. This was a great introduction, and I highly recommend this graphic adaptation if you are interested in evolutionary biology but have been afraid to approach Darwin himself. (I don’t blame you!)

Some Thoughts

I was struck as I read by Darwin’s struggles with religion. Even in the text, he ponders how and why “the Creator” may have done something. In the preface and afterward (also illustrated, these looked at Darwin’s life before and after writing On the Origin of Species), it seemed religious people were shocked by Darwin’s claims, but in the text, he never says anything that seems to discredit religion. His wife worried about him blaspheming the church, though he didn’t seem to want to. He just wanted to collect the facts and understand them; in fact, he seemed non-religious, not anti-religious. I felt for him. It’s hard to be first, and religious people seemed to blame him for what they couldn’t understand.

On the other hand, James Watson, in DNA, seemed to have a personal interest in discrediting God in his book. That sounds odd, but what I mean is he frequently (maybe three or four times in 400 pages) commented that the secret of life is in DNA, not a creator. I thought the snide remarks seriously took away from the academic tone of the book. Simply tell the story of DNA, and if you don’t believe in God, I don’t care, but don’t make snide remarks about it. (Bainbridge commented once about how life is in the chromosomes and not from God, but he wasn’t snide about it, and it didn’t bother me at all.)

As a religious person myself, I don’t have any qualms noting the resemblance of humans to apes. I believe I am a child of God but that’s not a scientific explanation, and I’m not going to pretend it is. I know I have DNA from my parents and my personal genome that makes my body as it is, evolved over the past millions of years from wherever, with God over it all since he created it to begin with. I don’t have any issues in believing in God as my Eternal Father and believing that life stems from my DNA. My only problem with science is the apparent need to discredit religion. I don’t think it has to be only one way, and I think the scientists should just leave religion alone when they are talking about science. Personally, I think God works through laws, even a big bang if necessary. I have no problems not understanding how the two relate. To me, not understanding how God works is a part of faith.

[/end rant]

The bottom line is I enjoyed learning about evolutionary biology and genetics, although some books were better than others. I do look forward to learning more.

What scientific nonfiction have you read lately? Can you remember any books about genetics? Do any of these interest you at all?

(I already have Matt Ridley’s Genome on my TBR.)

• Graphic Novels Challenge
• Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman by Richard Feynman
• Milton in May: Paradise Lost, Books 7-9
• Reading Reflections (Reading Old Books) + Reading Journal (31 March)
• A Few Science Book Reviews (The Great Equations by Crease and Two by Gawande)
• The Discoverers by Daniel Boorstin
• March in Review + New Challenges + A Brief Reading Journal (7 April)
• Palestine by Joe Sacco
• The Planets by Dava Sobel + A Giveaway
• Two Neuroscience Books (Proust was a Neuroscientist by Lehrer and Sacks’ Musicophilia)

Then I saw Emily’s review of Professor Lerer’s Inventing English last year. Since I love language, I loved the idea of little episodes of the history of the language. I also read this slowly, simply because the subject of the early development of English is new to me. (Yes, despite the fact that I was an English major in college, I don’t recall much of the historical development of early, Old English.)

In the end, both books are ones I can recommend to fans of language and nonfiction.

Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History from Aesop to Harry Potter

I love reading classics, so I thought I’d read my son some of the classics. Reading Professor Lerer’s overview of children’s literature throughout history was an education. I think of children’s literature as Charlotte’s Web. Lerer takes us on a journey much farther back, to “Aesop’s Fables” and The Iliad, which was foundational to children’s learning in the Western tradition. The real question ends up being: where do children fit in history? At what point did literature written specifically for children enter the canon?

Surprisingly, it’s much more recent then we may anticipate. Children’s literature only became such once children were accepted as different from adults.

I began a project of writing a post for each chapter I read in this book; I was trying to read the key foundational books that children, through history, used as their formative texts. When I got the chapter on Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island, and so forth, I slowed down and I have not gone back and continued this project for the subsequent chapters. Part of this I got distracted with other projects, challenges and books. But also, there began to be so many books mentioned in each chapter that I didn’t feel I could catch up! So while this project is still an active page on this site, it is kind of incomplete at this point. I still own the book, so I will work on it when I feel like it again. I do want to keep reading children’s classics!

My current thoughts about this book, having finished it, revolve somewhat around the first half, since that is the part I read two or three times. It’s a testimonial to me of classics. What amazed me is that children were able to read and learn from Robinson Crusoe in the 1800s. Why is it considered too advanced in language and concept for ten-year-old children today? In some respects, in reviewing the history of what children read, I realized that children are underestimated today. The fast-paced world of television and computer games has built generations of children that feel most comfortable with Captain Underpants and Diary of a Wimpy Kid. (Although I’ve read neither of these, they are the best-sellers and not Robinson Crusoe, so I feel safe making a stereotyped generalization.)

After reading about the history of children’s reading, my overall impression is that we need to offer our kids more. True, it’s okay to let them be kids: it took thousands of years to recognize the need for that stage of life. Professor Lerer’s chapters about the more recent themes in children’s literature are also important, because they illustrate the changing needs of children. After all, their role as children has only recently been created for them! It’s okay to have a separate children’s literature that they can best relate to. But at the same time, we need to believe in their abilities to understand, cope, and appreciate depth. It’s okay to give them a classic book we may consider “adult.” Chances are, two hundred years ago, it would have been a child’s favorite.

Inventing English: A Portable History of the Language

I’m glad I went slowly through Inventing English as well, because it was meant to be savored and enjoyed. I fell in love with the concept of this book that Professor Lerer introduced in his introduction:

These chapters may be read in sequence, as you read a textbook or novel; or they may be read as individual essays, each one suitable for bed or as a pause in the day’s tasks. My book, therefore, is less a history of English in the traditional sense than it is an episodic epic: a portable assembly of encounters with the language.

How delicious! Since I’m no longer in school, I’m not completely keen on reading textbooks. But I love the idea of taking a pause from my day to read about my language, and I like to read at the end of the day as a way to wind down.

In terms of the old stuff, Professor Lerer provides chapters on the origins of old English poetry, Old English Literature (I really need to read Beowulf), and the politics that influenced the changing nature of the English literature, among other things. I still haven’t even read Chaucer, so seeing how he and others fit into the changing face of English makes me all the more eager to do so!

The modern essays seemed more loosely tied together, but they were much easier to read through, probably because I’m much more familiar with the Mark Twain’s literature (or at least his style) and the modern histories he discusses when he addresses war’s impact on language and African-American English’s impact on the language (for example). These, then, were more fun to read.

For me, although I liked the modern chapters (they were fun), it was the early stuff that really fascinated me. Maybe it’s because I read the first half much slower, I spent a longer time pondering it. Or maybe it’s just that I want to read my mother’s Ph.D. dissertation (on the Cycle plays in the 1300s) and I really would love to understand the English she quotes!

The entire book was enjoyable, and I look forward to learning more about the history and development of English – as well as seeing how it continues to develop through my lifetime!

• What children’s literature histories can you suggest?
• What histories of English language development have you enjoyed?

I may be sticking with the originals for now (i.e., the children’s books and the really old classics) but I’m always on the lookout for another enjoyable nonfiction overview.

• Robinson Crusoe Adaptations for Children
• Speak, Child: The Illiad as the Infancy of Children’s Literature
• How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster
• The Discoverers by Daniel Boorstin
• Pat the Bunny and Other Interactive Books for Kids
• Two Books on Literacy (Growing a Reader from Birth and The ABCs of Literacy)
• Churchill’s History of the English-Speaking Peoples, abridged by Henry Steele Commager
• Reading Journal (27 January): Addicted
• Reading Journal (17 Feb): A Brief Post
• March in Review + New Challenges + A Brief Reading Journal (7 April)

As I read, I was struck that the main obstacle that Douglass had to overcome was not the freezing weather, the starvation, the humiliations, and the beatings, but rather a broken will. Of course, all of the former abuses directly contributed to the later, but it is his will that allowed him to be himself amidst the horrors of slavery.

Douglass was a strong-willed and intelligent boy as he grew in Baltimore. For example, he tricked the white boys his age to teach him how to read and he secretly worked on learning more. But as a teenager, he found himself reassigned to an overseer in the country who had a reputation for “breaking in” rebellious slaves. Eventually, Douglass’s spirit was broken too. That was the most heart breaking to me, for the slave masters determined to turn him into something less than human.

Douglass’s story about his broken spirit reminded me of the story of Sethe and the others in Beloved, one of my favorite novels. “You your own self,” Sethe is told. And that is what I kept thinking as Douglass told his story. He was his own self, and he was strong. He had to rediscover his will to be an individual after that master “broke” him, just as Sethe ultimately had to discover herself in Beloved. As is evidence by the existence of this narrative, Douglass eventually escaped slavery and was able to tell his story, further evidence that he was able to rediscover his will to be an individual.

Douglass’s story was written just ten years after his ultimate escape from slavery, when he was 27 or 28, and that also fascinates me. It was the 1840s, and slavery was a long way from being ended. As an escaped slave, evidence of his whereabouts could bring slave catchers, and many Northern states were required to return the slaves. Yet, he does not fear to name many names. It is clear that he has a confidence in himself. He later was able to earn enough money, lecturing in Europe, to legally buy his freedom. That is a story of success and self-confidence.

As I read this account of a slave in a border state, a slave with a difficult and tragic life and yet one that was not “that bad,” I was repeatedly reminded of a picture book I read a few weeks ago. I wrote up a blurb about it and had intended to post it with other picture books about the subject in a few more weeks. My original impression of The Listeners by Gloria Whelan, illustrated by Mike Benny, was as follows:

In a beautifully illustrated large book, we learn the story of three little slave children, whose job it is to listen near the plantation house every night and report back to their parents. It’s a slave story, but it has an element of hope to it. The illustrations are gorgeous. I’ve seen some comments suggesting that it is too light-hearted a look at slavery: truly this is not like the slavery I’ve read about before, and I can accept those comments. But it still is a touching and beautiful picture book, and I can see it as a good introduction to the subject for young children.

After reading Douglass’s book, I am now confused about what I think about The Listeners. I think it gives an incorrect view of slavery. I no longer have it to reread (I had to return it to the library), but I do remember a scene where the children are dancing with their parents. They delight in those evenings.

On the contrary, Frederick Douglass said:

I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north, to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as evidence of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least, such is my experience. I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness. Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. … (page 35, emphasis added)

Gloria Whelan, author of The Listeners, is a woman from Detroit, who has written a number of picture books set in rural Michigan, as well as other stories and picture books set in other locales, such as Russia and Japan (see Wikipedia; her author site). I guess I wonder what books she’s read about real life in slavery. Has she read any escaped slave journals and accounts, like this one? Maybe she has; I don’t know. But now I doubt the veracity and the appropriateness of a picture book with slave children laughing and dancing. It gives the wrong impression.

In Douglass’s account, as a child, he received one shirt a year and when it wore out, he went naked. He was always hungry. All the children ate out of a trough, and the quickest ended up eating the most. At night, he had a burlap sack as a blanket. In the rural Maryland winters, his feet would frost over in the night. He was forced to watch women being whipped, and saw a man shot for being slow to respond to the master’s orders.

How does one teach this cruel reality of slavery to children, or do we just gloss over it with pretty picture books until they are older?

Do you think it’s appropriate to emphasize, in a picture book, imagined happy moments that some slave children may have had?

I don’t have any answers. As I said above, I’m conflicted.

• Beloved by Toni Morrison
• Lincoln: A Photobiography by Russell Freedman
• The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man by James Weldon Johnson
• Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
• The Life of Wilkie Collins (Biographies by Clarke and Peters)
• Listen to the Wind by Greg Mortenson and Susan L. Roth
• The Book That Changed My Life, edited by Roxanne J. Coady and Joy Johannesson + Giveaway
• Harlem Renaissance Poetry
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens
• Golden Legacy by Leonard Marcus

A Room of One’s Own

My favorite story that Woolf shared was about Shakespeare’s sister. (This sister was a complete fabrication on Woolf’s part, but it captured Woolf’s point.) Shakespeare had a sister who had just as much genius as Shakespeare, and who likewise dreamed of the stage. How did her life play out? Despite her inclinations, she was not sent to school to learn the classics; instead, she was encouraged to focus on the needlework and mending at home. Her father also wanted her to be married young to a local young man. Although she rebelled and fled to London, seeking a life on the stage, she was ridiculed and abused, for women were not actresses in 1600 London, let alone writers of plays.

In short, everything about society would have discouraged her genius. How can we wonder that there are not female “Shakespeare’s” throughout history of the written word? As Woolf points out, it’s very probably that the ever-popular “Anon” was such a strong woman, seeking to get her words into print, even if anonymity was the only way to do so.

Woolf speaks to women in the late 1920s. As I read, I was surprised to discover that this was written at such a late date. From her discussion of how men dismissed women (referring to them as the “weaker sex” among other more cruel things), I thought it had been written two decades earlier. Yet, even a decade after women in England gained the right to vote, men still neglected to accept women as capable of creative output.

At a few points, Woolf looks to the future. One comment in particular stood out to me:

Moreover, in a hundred years … women will have ceased to be the protected sex. Logically they will take part in all the activities and exertions that were once denied them. The nursemaid will heave coal. The shop-woman will drive an engine. All assumptions founded on the facts observed when women were the protected sex will have disappeared. (page 40)

(She also comments, I suspect in a bit of a mocking tone, that maybe such a life will allow women to die off much quicker since they won’t have protection: “Anything may happen when womanhood has ceased to be a protected occupation.”)

Virginia Woolf takes care to not praise women too highly. She does not want women to think it easy to become Shakespeare. No, it is a challenge to overcome generations of inequality in education. Shakespeare had the genius, after all: his success was not only due to his ambition and education. Woolf’s point, instead, is that women, just as men, need their own income and their own space in order to create. Certainly, prolific male writers have an income and space for creation: poverty does not beget creative output very often.

I think about my own life. I have the “leisure” to stay home with my son while my husband works full-time. I also have a computer of my own where I can write and blog. If I lost that resource and/or if I needed to financially support my son, my ability to write and blog would become depleted. But then again: I am able to get a job (let’s hope), a thing that middle class women in Jane Austen’s day could not do. I would still have the ability to create because of that freedom.

Although I had not yet begun the book (other than the introduction), I could not renew it on Wednesday as I’d intended because of another person’s hold; instead, I read it in a day and returned it quickly to avoid greater fees (it was already a bit overdue). That tells you how small this book is (about 110 pages). Why did it take me so long to pick up?! (Oh, yes, I always have too much library loot.)

The message it shares in those brief pages is informative but also heartening. As a woman, it reminds me to seek to become Shakespeare’s sister in an era that no longer discourages it (quite as much).

Have you read A Room of One’s Own?

Do you have a room of your own? (literally or figuratively)

What other classic books about women and women in fiction can you recommend for my Women Unbound reading?

• To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
• Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
• Why Women Should Rule the World by Dee Dee Myers
• Sister Bernadette’s Barking Dogs by Kitty Burns Florey + Giveaway
• Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson
• The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim
• Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn
• The Creative Family by Amanda Blake Soule
• The Collected Poems of Nikki Giovanni
• The Life of Wilkie Collins (Biographies by Clarke and Peters)

Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad I read it. However, I wouldn’t call Churchill’s tome a scholarly history. Even after finishing, I’m still not all that comfortable with English history.

Although I tend to avoid abridgements, I picked up this book after I read a selection of Churchill’s speeches back in October 2008. I wanted to read more Churchill. After all that time sitting on my shelf, I’m glad I got to it.

First some negatives: It reminded me of Charles Dickens’ History of England which I read last year. In places it simply felt like stories and traditions from the history, told in an interesting way and with plenty of opinion. There were few footnotes. Churchill’s writing is more detailed, informative, and overarching than Dickens’s was (Churchill made connections between kings, patterns, and eras). But I felt academic heft was missing. Despite that, I still got rather bogged down in the explanation of military strategies: I don’t care to know the details of each battle, but rather the outcomes and the effects of the battles.

And then the positive: I did really enjoy the first half, which was about the settlement of England and the kings of England. I feel so very ignorant! I am looking forward to reading Shakeapeare’s histories of England. Although those are fictionalized, Churchill mentioned some of them in passing.

I was really looking forward to the section on Victorian England, since I’ve been enjoying Victorian reads in the past month. Unfortunately, Churchill was a bit over the top with the politics and not so much about life, but it tells me where my interests lie for my next read! I have a number of Victorian English history books on my TBR list.

As for the abridgement, I can’t really compare it to the original (which I obviously haven’t read) but this abridgement, which was stated to be geared toward American audiences, had too much about America in it. Obviously, Churchill wanted to capture more than the history of Great Britain: he called it History of English-Speaking Peoples, after all. And since Churchill’s mother was American, he was just as interested in the U.S. history as the British. But I really wished Churchill would talk a little bit more about the other settlements. Surprisingly, Australia and New Zealand, in particular, had only about five pages total in this entire abridged volume. In contrast, the U.S. Civil War had a long section of about 80 pages. In a book that is less than 500 pages, that seemed a bit skewed.

In the end, I’m glad I finally got around to reading this. Churchill certainly has an interesting political perspective. But this wasn’t the best for a first look at English history.

Can anyone recommend a good nonfiction book about the history of Great Britain and its territories? I’d love to keep learning, and while I have some on my TBR, I’d always love more.

Which should be my first Shakespeare history play?

• Speeches of Winston Churchill
• Jane Austen: A Biography by Carol Shields, a Quote Book, and a History of England
• Two Books by Seth Lerer (Inventing English and Children’s Literature)
• The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama (abridged audio, read by the author)
• Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott
• Daughter of Destiny by Benazir Bhutto
• Reading Journal (17 March): Happy St. Patrick’s Day
• My Victorian Summer: We Two by Gillian Gill and Armadale by Wilkie Collins + Reading Journal
• Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt
• February in Review

I am a suburban American stay-at-home mom. I have always been well fed and safe. I have 16+ years of education and I could get more if I felt like it. When I was 26, I delivered my first child naturally in a hospital with a nurse midwife present. I don’t feel I’ve ever been discriminated against because of my gender, and I’ve never been abused or beaten in any way.

I am pretty naïve about the state of women in the world.

Reading Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn was eye-opening for me. I had of course heard about sex trafficking in Asia. I had of course heard of maternal deaths in Africa due to improper medical care. I had of course heard about the atrocities against woman that occurred (and are occurring) as a part of national genocide in Africa. I had of course heard about lack of education for girls around the globe and corresponding gender discrimination.

But hearing something is different than meeting the people. The stories Kristof and WuDunn share about woman around the globe made these issues real to me. These Pulitzer Prize-winning journalists capture the issues and it is heart-breaking. But because each section ends with stories of success, I feel that change is possible in the future. There is hope. What will it take to turn the world around? I think being aware is part of the first step, and Half the Sky is a great first step for all to gain a little bit more of that awareness.

I am having an incredibly hard time writing this post. I have started many times. I have pondered which direction to go. I could list all the atrocities that are happening around the world. On the other hand, I could share the success stories because people in better situations decided to start something or decided to donate money or went to Africa to see for themselves what is happening. Good things are happening because people make a difference. But I can’t decide which of the stories to share.

What I really want to tell you is that you must read this book. It taught me that the battle for women’s rights really is just beginning.

While I may be sitting at a personal computer in suburban Chicago, a woman somewhere in the world is being beaten because she burnt dinner, or because she has been sold into sex slavery, or because she asked her father to be able to go to school like her brother, or because her insides rotted after her first pregnancy at age 13 and her husband doesn’t like her smell. This book really helped me to see the place of women in the world as a whole, rather than just my limited experience.

When I checked out this book at the library, the librarian was kidding around and said she knew this wasn’t my son’s book (as the other one, a picture book, was) because it for women.

“It’s not for women!” I said.

“That’s what it says on the cover,” she responded.

I looked down. The subtitle is “Turning oppression into opportunity for women worldwide.”

“No,” I responded, shocked she’d think this book was meant to exclude men because women are the focus. “It’s about women. It’s for everyone.”

I do believe Half the Sky’s message is for everyone. It will not be easy to shift world culture toward respecting women. Even if you and your loved ones respect women, it’s horrible to think what a large percentage of world cultures do to women by using the excuse “they are women.”

That said, I know from experience that not every book works for every person. This is a violent nonfiction book because it describes the life of women around the world: rapes and beatings in particular enter a lot of stories. I am not one to read that type of nonfiction often, but I could get through this book because the ultimate message is one of hope and action. It is very easy to read, and I admit I struggled to put it down because once a story starts, I wanted to know how it ended. Some ended positively. Some did not.

The most important part is awareness. Maybe you don’t feel you need to read it because you are already aware. Regardless, if you don’t think you can or want to read this book, at least check out the official Half the Sky Movement website. It shares inspiring stories from the book and links to dozens of charities that the authors feel help support women around the globe.

I want to do something, and while my charitable contributions budget is stretched right now, I’m still researching options and considering where some of my charitable contributions will go in the future. I’m impressed with all the options before me, and I only wish I had more money to share or the ability to travel where help is needed.

As I was reading this book, I also was reading 1920s Harlem Renaissance poetry (which I talked about the other day). Georgia Douglas Johnson’s “The Heart of a Woman” really broke my heart because it captured the horror of being a woman in a bad relationship. It’s too bad that this still describes so many women in the world today, whether that is in a suburban USA city or in rural Africa or in a brothel in Asia. If you didn’t click over, here it is:

The Heart of a Woman

The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn,
As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on,
Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam
In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home.

The heart of a woman falls back with the night,
And enters some alien cage in its plight,
And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars
While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.

–by Georgia Douglas Johnson, 1922

• Why Women Should Rule the World by Dee Dee Myers
• Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
• God’s Bits of Wood by Sembene Ousmane
• A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
• Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts
• The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
• Aucassin and Nicolette by an Out-of-the-Box Medieval Author
• March by Geraldine Brooks
• The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
• The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton

“Hateful Things” is an interesting piece when considered as an essay because it doesn’t read like any other essay I read for that class. Like the rest of her The Pillow Book, it is partly a list, partly a personal journal entry, and mostly a personal ramble. Yet, Shonagon writes beautifully. It has an interesting organization to it, and from the beginning until the end, “Hateful Things” progresses from generic to personal in a beautiful way. Much of The Pillow Book is similarly personal, and the vibrant personality of the woman who wrote it makes The Pillow Book a delightful, fascinating, and important book to read.

Sei Shonagon collected her writings (a bundle of papers kept inside her pillow) in the late 900s A.D. in Japan while she was working as a lady in waiting to the empress. She may have had a somewhat lower-class upbringing, but her extensive reading and later employment by the empress made her critical of the lower classes. In short, she’s a bit of a snob. Add to the mix a propensity toward middle-of-the-night liaisons and her feminist leanings and Shonagon’s diary becomes not just historically significant but also delightfully amusing.

Nat at In the Spring it is the Dawn took the name of her blog from the first line of Shonagon’s book and says in her review “I like to think that if Sei Shonagon were alive today, she’d have a blog, and a fun one to read it would be too!” I have to agree. Shonagon is witty and sarcastic, honest and playful. I think she was born 1000 years too early, because she loved finding something, be it funny, annoying, or ironic, in the ordinary events of the day. And despite her claim that she “regret[s] that it ever came to light” (page 264) because people have been hurt by her criticisms, I still believe she would have delighted in an unknown international audience that blogging would have given her.

Because Shonagon lived more than 1000 years ago, her work is also an historical and cultural piece. I know nothing about Japan. In fact, I believe The Pillow Book was the first Japanese book I’ve ever read. I learned about the traditions of Heian Japan, including the necessity of proper poetic response to the poetic notes people sent. Although I like to think of myself as a creative person when it comes to writing, I can’t imagine my social status being dictated by the witty poems I write!  I learned a little bit about the superstitions and religious traditions of the era, which I also was completely unfamiliar with. And I loved learning about life in a palace that wasn’t what I was used to hearing about (my only palace exposure previously has been Western, via fairy tales and Arthurian legends).

Because of my ignorance, it would have been very hard to follow the significance of Shonagon’s diary if not for the extensive notes by Ivan Morris. While Morris’s translation is 266 pages, he also includes 80 pages of notes that explain portions of the text and 20 pages of appendices with illustrations of clothes and layouts, details about the calendars and government, and timelines of Shonagon’s life. I wished the text was annotated instead, so I wouldn’t have had to flip back and forth for the entire book, but I loved all the information. I didn’t concern myself with trying to remember all the different names and customs, but I did enjoy learning about them. I suspect this is a book I must reread.

Ivan Morris’s translation is actually an abridgement of a larger, more detailed text. While I hadn’t realized that when I read, apparently most modern translations of The Pillow Book excise similar sections since they are lists that Shonagon wrote to help her remember things and have little interest to a modern reader. The sections that were included were fascinating, and I did find myself interested, even in the brief lists Shonagon kept, especially when they morphed into a personal ramble:

5. Different Ways of Speaking

14. Hateful Things

16. Things that Make One’s Heart Beat Faster

27. Trees

28. Birds

29. Elegant Things

30. Insects

32. Unsuitable Things

(These are just a few: the entire book is peppered with such lists.)

I also love the stories Shonagon included about palace life. Some of them are specifically about herself and experiences (such as 8.” The Cat Who Lived in the Palace”) but others are more generic. It’s as if she’s pretending it’s not her own story, such as 46. “A Lovers Visit,” in which Shonagon talks about “a lady” and her attendants. One can only assume it is her own story. My favorite section was 116. “When I First Went in Waiting.” By this section of the book, I was familiar with Shonagon’s outspoken personality and relationship with the empress and others at Court. To go back and revisit her first impressions of royalty and palace life was then quite entertaining. It was comforting to know that even Sei Shonagon, who was anything but shy, was nervous during her first days in the palace.

Shonagon also had sections dedicated to complaining about people and customs. She had sections delighting in people and customs. She wrote about everything that struck her, and as the introduction states, it’s possible Shonagon was writing some sections as idea-outlines for her possible future novels. Unfortunately, The Pillow Book is the only remaining text by Sei Shonagon, and her life after she left court in 1000 A.D. is unknown.

I call it a diary but The Pillow Book is so much more. It’s a beginner’s education in Japanese Court life. It’s a outline of future novels. It’s an outlet for frustration. It’s a personal history. In the end, I think it’s a fun read.

Do you read blogs by random people who talk about the everyday aspects of their life and yet you find it interesting simply because of how they write about it? Ironically, I don’t but I still enjoyed this book!

[Japanese Literature Challenge 3 because it's classic Japanese literature]

[Really Old Classics Challenge because it was written before 1600 AD]

[Women Unbound Challenge because it's about a women's life]

Related posts:

• The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanizaki
• The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa
• Reading Journal (6 January): Starting Off the New Year
• The Old Capital by Yasunari Kawabata
• January in Review: A Good Start to 2010
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• Reading Reflections: A Book Kingdom
• Reading Journal (17 March): Happy St. Patrick’s Day
• Reading Journal (24 February): My First Vlog
• Naomi by Junichiro Tanizaki

Because he’s so ready to learn, I’ve been pondering how to introduce him to the world of letters, the world of reading, and a pre-preschool world of him and me. I know he’s not ready to learn to read, but what can I do now to help him be ready in another year or two?

I decided to seek out some books that might help. While I checked out dozens of books, I only read two in the past few weeks. Growing a Reader from Birth by Diane McGuinness was fascinating, but I was disappointed that the majority of the book focused on baby language learning rather than learning to read (as the title would suggest). The ABCs of Literacy by Cynthia Dollins, on the other hand, was just what I was looking for, and I’ve even ordered my own copy I loved it so much. Both books were geared toward parents and childcare givers, and the second is one every parent of a toddler should read.

Growing a Reader from Birth

I admit that I started the first book because it had a pretty cover. Besides, I loved the premise of the title: Growing a Reader from Birth. It reminded me that learning to read and loving to read are a process. One does not suddenly, at age six, sit down in a classroom, learn the letters, and become a reader. Since I (obviously) love to read and my son, already, follows me around the house with his own books, I’m hoping that he eventually becomes a reader too. In fact, because he enjoys books so much, even “reading” them to himself, I would consider him a reader already (or at least a lover of books, which is a great start).

But I should have considered the subtitle: Your Child’s Path from Language to Literacy. To my surprise, Diane McGuinness does not focus on reading. In fact, the first 200 pages are about language: how babies and toddlers learn language, parental impact on language development, the do’s and don’t’s for talking to your children in order to help them learn language best. Did you know that newborns hear sound differently than older children? The “motherese” that is higher pitched than normal speech and that covers greater range is the type of language newborns physically need to hear. I find it fascinating that we instinctively speak in a high range when talking to babies. (Note that baby talk is not necessary and is detrimental; just the higher range of speaking is necessary).

I also learned why my son thinks his name is “Baby.” Since that was the name I repeated to him often in his first year (how could I resist? This adorable little baby was waking up and I loved him and found him cuddly), that was the first word he learned. I found that discussion fascinating, since it’s normally the their own name the child learns first. Let this be a lesson to you: if you call your newborn “Baby” all the time, he will call himself “Baby” at age two.

Further, I was fascinated to read the studies of interaction between children and their mothers. When mothers spoke with a lower vocabulary (600 words) to their one-year-old children, the same children at age 3 had a lower IQ. On the other hand, when mothers spoke with a normal adult vocabulary (or at least 1500 words) to their one-year-olds, their children knew a lot more by age 3. This should be a given, but for me, it really made me reconsider how I talk to my son: Why do I say “Choo choo” instead of train or locomotive? Why don’t I explain things when I say the word? How can I explain the world to him?

All of these language concepts do relate to literacy: a child has to understand certain things about the world and have a vocabulary before reading makes sense. This was the most valuable part of Growing a Reader.  Unfortunately, I was a bit disappointed by the subsequent discussion (about 50 pages) about teaching a child to read. It was a rant about the failings of the modern educational teaching method. McGuinness explained how bad schools are, how they won’t teach your child to read properly, and how we should demand better teaching. But she failed to explain to parents what we should be doing, beyond insisting that teachers use a phonics system. It was disappointing, because so much of the book built up to the learning to read moment: she failed to deliver.

Throughout the book, McGuinness also had some odd ideas about reading. She does not like picture books, believing they teach a child to look for context clues rather than focus on the words. She does not expect kids to learn to read before going to school. Now, in subsequent reading (Dollins’ book), I learned that children are not normally physically ready to learn to read until age six (that is, they are not physically able to remember so many letter-phonic combinations or keep such information as plot in order) but McGuinness never address that: she focused on language learning almost to the exclusion of reading learning.

I enjoyed McGuinness’s book for the insights in to my own communication with my son, but I do wonder what her qualifications are: the cover says “PhD” but what does that really mean these days?

The ABCs of Literacy

On the other hand, Cynthia Dollins, EdD, elementary classroom teacher for twenty years and lecturer in child and adolescent literature and writing and reading methods (from back cover), perfectly captured what I was looking for in nurturing my young son’s reading habits. I do not often buy myself new books (to be accurate: this is first time since last February), but I have already ordered a copy of this book for myself. It is that good.

If you have a toddler and you want your “read-aloud” moments to help him learn, to increase his literacy, and to be fun, The ABCs of Literacy is the book you must have.

Part A focuses on the “whys” to reading aloud to toddlers: it’s a bonding time between parent and child, it helps them learn about the world, it helps them learn how printed reading works, and it teaches them vocabulary and phonemic awareness. Now, she’s preaching to the choir here, but I loved being justified in my reading! What this section did do for me was encourage me to turn off the TV more often, since it does not help with any of the above things at all (even for vocabulary and phonemic awareness, the effect is minimal). I know I mentioned above that my son learned “two” from Sesame Street, so it’s not a waste of time all the time, but still: I should interact with him more. I’ve begun a new unofficial project, called “keep lots of books in the family room.” Now, when my son says “watch! Watch” I say, which book would you like to read next? It’s been lots of fun because we’re reading books in the middle of the day. I think he remembers the books better, especially when we’re acting out The Cat in the Hat, for example (he likes to hop holding books, like the Cat in the Hat does).

The other sections are incredible comprehensive: she covers the issues of which books to choose (what makes a picture book “quality” literature), the best methods for reading books out loud, and other ways to promote literacy. Now, some people may balk about the “quality” literature comment: surely, we want reading to be fun. Dollins discusses this as follows:

“Most of us remember books from our childhood that we wanted to read again and again. These books resonated with us for some reason and stayed with us into adulthood, evoking positive memories. Surely we can point to many of the books considered classics and understand why they have been so disginated. They may contain a universal theme that is uniquely human to all of us, or they may tug at our heart or emotions. The author’s words may be so carefully chosen that we find ourselves quoting them in conversation to make a point. Picture books, too, distinguish themselves through the feelings they evoke and the themes they hold. They also contain exemplary use of language …. Books from our childhood remain with us because of our reaction to them, the reaction that made us laugh, cry, feel deeply, or just think.” (page 51).

It’s a long quote, but I want to share it because it resonated with me so strongly. You probably know that I’m a big fan of classic literature by now. And I think she perfectly captures why classics are classics. She’s talking about picture books, but I think it extends to all classics.  I just love them for the universality of it all!

Here’s an example from our own reading. While there is a place for the Little Golden Book Thomas and the Big Big Bridge (and my son and I read it at least once a day), it’s obvious that the writing, illustrations, and story are not as engaging, thoughtful, and able to teach concepts and vocabulary as even The Little Engine that Could. Can anyone forget “I think I can! I think I can!”

Dollins’ book ends with an 80-page (yes, 80) annotated listing some books that she considers classic, well-written, and thoughtful and that teach vocabulary or phonetics or concepts. They all are fun for her and for her own children. I look forward to seeking out of some of those books. While not every picture book will work for everyone else, I’m eager to give her list a try. I really trust her concepts and this list gets me excited for years or reading with my son!

Have I convinced you to read this book yet? I seriously think it is awesome.

Children’s Projects

I have been reading a textbook about the history of children’s literature and reading the historical literature mentioned in it. I intend to do that for myself, but after reading Robinson Crusoe aloud to my son (and taking three months to do so), I came to the belated conclusion that learning the history of children’s literature is for me, not for him. I’m still tracking it and working on it. But I also need a project that is for the two of us!

My newest project is this. I’d like to read 1,000 different books with him before his fifth birthday. I started keeping track December 12, 2009. In tracking this list, I won’t count a book twice. Any book counts: picture books, board books, wordless books, audiobooks (the ones for kids), chapter books, adult books I read aloud to him (if I dare try that again). But I’m only counting a book if I read it to him (not my husband) and only if I’ve read him the entire thing or most of it (no skipping pages). I’m a bit torn on this last point. For example, we read Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things that Go almost every day, but we have yet to read every single page in one sitting, because it is so long. I may count that one anyway, since we’ve read the book so many times in pieces. I’m hoping that in the next two and half years we’ll get through it.

The purpose of this is to introduce my son to great literature and fun literature. I also want to make reading with him priority, not just a dread before bed (because he wants to read for a long time and I’m always exhausted and ready to move on with my night). Of course, many of the books we read are repeats: no day goes by without five readings of The Red Caboose. But I think finding new favorites is important too, and I’m looking forward to find them. I’m going to adopt the reading lists from The ABCs of Literacy as my own, I’m going to continue seeking out age-appropriate Caldecott winners, and I’m going to browse the library more frequently.

As for this site, every 100 books, I’ll post about his and my favorites. I think that will be a fun way to round out this project and give myself a sense of accountability to you. Now I just need to make a project button…

A question for parents to toddlers: Do you do reading projects with your toddler? How do you choose your next book(s)?

• 1000 Books: A Little Clarification + The First 80 Books or So
• Kids Corner (1000 Books): Growing Pains
• Two Books by Seth Lerer (Inventing English and Children’s Literature)
• The Arrival by Shaun Tan
• The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett
• A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L’Engle
• Abecedaria (aka Alphabet Books)
• Reading Journal (23 December): Holiday Reading
• Robinson Crusoe Adaptations for Children
• Speak, Child: The Illiad as the Infancy of Children’s Literature

In terms of reading, I finished off my biography of Jesus on December 26. I was right: December was the ideal month for reading James E. Talmage’s 700+ page tome. Part gospel harmony, part historical explanation, and part doctrinal interpretation, Jesus the Christ follows the pre-mortal, mortal, and post-mortal mission of the Savior by interpreting the scriptures.

Talmage wrote his book in the first two decades of the twentieth century, in an era before computers could have helped him put things in order. The seamless nature of his book is therefore all the more impressive to me. Besides that, I really did enjoy the outmoded writing style. While Talmage’s scholarly tone makes it difficult to read quickly at first, I found it beautiful (and not as difficult) once I got used to it. It is clear Talmage is a Bible scholar, and he clarifies the context of the parables, the Jewish dissension, and other aspects of New Testament life with which I was unfamiliar: Talmage puts the New Testament events in context.

Talmage is also a scholar of Mormon doctrine, as his research and commentary gave me insights into the continuing nature of the mission of Jesus Christ. While he only briefly referred to the pre-mortal and post-mortal ministry of the Savior, he did regularly complement his New Testament commentary with references to Latter-day scripture.

As a whole, the book certainly focuses on the Latter-day Saint doctrines of the Savior, and therefore, I am not certain non-Mormon readers would find it so engaging or satisfying. Even Mormon readers need to keep in mind that this volume in one man’s interpretation of the key events and scriptures: I didn’t necessarily agree with all his doctrinal interpretations, and it’s interesting to consider the past 100 years of further gospel insight as I read. Talmage’s volume, although rather comprehensive, is still flawed and incomplete. Yet, reading it had encouraged me to better delve into the scriptures on my own and seek guidance and direction by reading the words of the living prophets.

This blog is not primarily a religious blog: it’s a reading blog. I’ll therefore keep this post brief by saying that I’m grateful I finely did submerge myself in this volume. While I was intimidated by its length and it does have some flaws, I found Jesus the Christ ultimately rewarding, especially at this Christmas season.

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

We have this gorgeous illustrated edition on our coffee table, and I love browsing through my favorite pictures of Christ.

• Christ and the New Covenant by Jeffrey R. Holland
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens
• Milton in May: Paradise Regained
• Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman
• December in Review
• Silence by Shusaku Endo
• Nineteenth-Century Mormon Architecture and City Planning by C. Mark Hamilton
• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• 2009 in Review (+ Lots of Stats)
• Jerusalem: The Eternal City by David Galbraith et al

I’m not normally interested in memoirs. I find I just don’t care about the personal life of (1) most celebrities or (2) random people I’d never heard of before. But because Feynman was a Nobel Prize winner in science, I thought he might have something interesting to add to the scientific discussion. Since I’m always in need of more scientific thought in my life, I picked it up.

Richard Feynman (1918-1988) certainly did have an interesting life, and his memoir captures some of the fascinating aspects of being a scientist: how he learned to repair radios as a teenagers by taking them apart; his interest in science from a young age versus his anti-social tendencies; his years working on the Manhattan project; his severe criticism of Brazil’s educational system and his thoughts on what makes an education “good.”

I particularly liked to learn of Feynman’s personal development as he grew older, learning to embrace the humanities as well as science. As a college student, he resented the requisite humanities classes. As he aged, he learned to play the drums, draw, and even become an expert in Mayan antiquities. This was refreshing to me: it show me that a ground-breaking physicist can also be a well-rounded individual.

On the other hand, Feynman is not a serious man, and his memoir is filled with non-scientific tidbits. Feynman was fascinated with topless bars, for example. His escapades in Brazil during Carnaval, his bar fights, and his irreverence for all things “formal” (such as the Nobel Prize ceremony) also were pretty non-scientific. As those who know my reading style may be able to guess, these less serious bits were not as interesting to me. In fact, I could have skipped all the topless escapades and been happier. Still, as Feynman himself commented at one point “All this human being stuff is kind of fun too.”

In the end, I could have passed on Surely Your Joking, Mr. Feynman. Although it was fun to see how a scientist looks at the world, I would have rather learned something about science with my time. On the other hand, if you want to see how a famous physicist lives and learns, this might be the book for you.

The audiobook I listened to was unabridged and wonderfully narrated by Michael Kramer.

• A Few Books on Biological Science (DNA, The X in Sex, and a Graphic Adaptation of Darwin)
• Why Women Should Rule the World by Dee Dee Myers
• Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman
• The Elements of Cooking by Michael Ruhlman
• The Discoverers by Daniel Boorstin
• Two Neuroscience Books (Proust was a Neuroscientist by Lehrer and Sacks’ Musicophilia)
• Hunger: An Unnatural History by Sharman Apt Russell
• On Writing by Stephen King
• The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop by Lewis Buzbee
• The Planets by Dava Sobel + A Giveaway

That said, even reading three very different books about the Renaissance, I don’t feel I know it very well. I want to read half a dozen books written in the Renaissance decade. I want to read biographies and autobiographies of the characters influential to the movement. I want to immerse myself in the movement even further! I love this focused reading: it feel so satisfying.

The first book I picked up with a new Juvenile nonfiction book that was on a library display: The Harlem Renaissance: An Explosion of African-American Culture by Richard Worth. Worth’s The Harlem Renaissance has lots of information, photographs, and illustrations to effectively teach the history of the movement to a juvenile reader, or (in my case) an ignorant adult reader. Specific authors and artists are featured in one-page biographies interspersed with the main narrative. In the end, my only complaint is that there are not many excerpts from the actual writing from the Renaissance.  The main focus of this book is the history, and although the literary and artistic figures are appropriately highlighted, the actual creative output is not.

This book helped me gain a historical context for the Renaissance and I’m very glad I picked it up. Because it was written for younger person, it was easy to access and a great start.

The second book I picked up was so wonderful great I suggest anyone interested in the Harlem Renaissance go out and find it! Harlem Stomp! A Cultural History of the Harlem Renaissance by Laban Carrick Hill was just what I needed. I seriously wish I owned this Young Adult coffee table book because it is that wonderful. It is one I could browse through at leisure every now and then and find something new and interesting.

To begin with, Harlem Stomp! has brightly colored pages. Call me superficial, but this really makes it interesting to pick up. The era’s art, the contemporary photographs, the newspaper and magazine clippings, and photos of key figures are all designed to capture attention. While Worth’s book also had illustrations, art work, and photographs, Harlem Stomp! is designed with a reader in mind: it’s designed to be a coffee table book about a cultural explosion rather than a history book. I love that.

Further, going along with the great design is the easy-to-access details of the movement. There are sidebars, photo captions, chapter headings, and great chapter organization. Although it begins following a historic time line, there are separate chapters for music and dance, theater, and visual artists, something I felt was lacking in the first book (which focused on the history). Further, the historical situations and the overviews are interspersed with numerous excerpts from novels, poems, and essays, not to mention the beautiful visual arts of the era.

I only wished this book could play music for me. Everything else is there. If you are looking for a great overview of the Harlem Renaissance, this book is for you.

The last book I finished (and actually the first book I began) was a volume of criticism called The Harlem Renaissance, Bloom’s Period Studies. I actually am immensely glad I read this volume too, but I’m not sure I can recommend it unless you know what you are picking up:  about 20 essays about the literature, art, and music of the Harlem Renaissance. These are academic and full of “spoilers.” I personally like reading criticism, and I feel that reading through this volume also helped me to gain a better idea of which authors and artists are most important to the movement. I loved reading excerpts and storylines for so many poets and novels, and I almost feel I don’t need to read everything now. That said, I did begin this book before the other two, but due to the serious nature of the essays, I had to essentially plow through the essays a little at a time. This was not a page-turner, and I finished it after the other two books.

I enjoyed my brief overview of the key figures, historical events, and literature of the Harlem Renaissance, and I look forward to introducing you to the subject through the upcoming Classics Circuit tour! As I’ve been writing the introductory post for the Circuit (to appear, with sign up, next week), I keep deciding what I’ll read: as I research Zora Neale Hurston, I want to read her books (all of them). When I read about Jessie Redmon Fauset, I want to read her novels, etc.

As with everything that’s worth reading, there are so many books, and so little time!

• Harlem Renaissance Poetry
• Black No More by George S. Schuyler
• Reading Journal (16 December): A Classics Circuit TBR List from Wilkie Collins to Harlem
• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• December in Review
• Jazz by Toni Morrison
• The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man by James Weldon Johnson
• Reading Journal (25 November): Unplugged Edition
• Reading Journal (11 Nov): I Am a Quitter
• Reading Journal (3 February): Black History Month

Let’s face it: I’m a blogger and want-to-be photographer who rarely takes photographs (but I like tweaking them in Photoshop: instant results). I like to use computers creatively, but I do not create things completely from scratch.  I know that practice makes perfect. But I don’t have patience to practice.

And yet, I have a two-year-old. He loves to “help” me cook, so I’ve turned to Play-Doh during those times when he’s really just in the way. Then I wanted him to make his grandparents a Christmas present, so we’ve been playing with markers and wooden ornaments for weeks. And he loves it.

So, thanks to my son’s budding creativity, I decided to pick up The Creative Family: How to Encourage Imagination and Nurture Family Connections by Amanda Blake Soule, which Lisa and Eva reviewed recently. In some respects, I found Soule’s book to be a life-shifting book for me as a mother.

No, I’m not suddenly going to be become a proponent of “unschooling” as Soule is. Soule’s philosophies are a bit extreme for me. But Soule’s book was, for me, a creative recharge that I needed. She shares my opinion that kids don’t need big plastic toys with batteries to have a happy Christmas childhood. She helped me see what I could do with my son instead.

Interspersed with gorgeous photos of her children and their creative projects and pursuits, Soule discusses what creative things mothers can do with small children. She focuses on the materials, including how to be resourceful. She explores the ways in which art can be play, how art encourages imagination, and the ways that children can create gifts we can be proud of. She explores how the arts can be the center point of mothering, and she talks about how creative output can connect a family together.

As I look back now, I can’t recall what specific thing in this short (215-page) book spurred me into action. Was it the idea of creating a “station” for a child to call his own creative corner?  Was it the sample projects she shared, with patterns? Or was it the pictures of rather beautiful art created by her very young children? At any rate, I feel motivated to stop delegating my son’s care to toys and movies. It’s time I help him create in whatever ways I can.

When I see him discover Play-Doh or crayons, his eyes light up in delight and I know that for him the end result isn’t what matters. For him, it’s the joy of creating, of putting a marker on the paper and seeing a line appear. I don’t even have to purchase a coloring book for that light to come into his eyes: I need to hand him a crayon and a paper.

For Christmas, I was aiming for low-key, since I don’t think Christmas should be primarily about gifts. Now I’m feeling rather embarrassed by the idea, but I was going to give my son a second-hand plastic castle a friend gave me. It’s in good shape, and I think he’d really enjoy playing with it. It has all sorts of reactions: touch this and the stairs unfold, etc. But it was huge and ugly, so I took it to Goodwill this week.

Instead, I’m setting up a bulletin board near his desk in the playroom to become a new “creative corner.” I bought watercolors, and we have markers, crayons, Play-Doh, etc. I’m also making a felt “weather board” for his bedroom, so every morning when we look outside, we can choose the sun or the snowflakes or the rain or the clouds. I feel like I’ve suddenly gone insane with creative ideas for my little son. (I’ll post pictures of my creations if all turns out all right.)

For the record, my son does not have a lot of plastic toys. But he has some, and if I took away his choo-choo train and cars, he’d certainly let me know he is upset. Besides, he uses them in a creative way:

If you can’t tell, that’s one of the Wise Men (from the Little People Nativity) driving in the train. They choo-choo up to the stable, the people get on, and then my son waves “Bye! Bye” to Mary and Jesus before the train leaves again. (P.S. I hope you don’t find that offensive or irreverent. I personally think the Little People Nativity is great because I don’t want my son touching any of my other nativities, and I have about a dozen non-touchables. The Little People Nativity is his to play with for December as consolation. Besides, he apparently understands that Jesus stays and the Wise Men come to visit. He’s learning the story!)

Are you creating gifts this Christmas?

I noticed that Chris at book-a-rama has a list of homemade ideas for you if you’re feeling creative!

• Baby’s Monday Salon: Dogs, Trains, and Simple Illustrations
• Children’s Christmas: Picture Books of the Season
• Poetry Friday: Christmas Poems
• A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
• Lullabies
• A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
• Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss
• Winner of Anthem + Swamped
• King Lear by William Shakespeare
• The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron

Although I like reading classics, I don’t know much. Before August of this year, I’d never heard of Wilkie Collins! I first experienced Wilkie Collins through The Woman in White (loved it!), and I recently read The Moonstone.

For this Circuit, I decided to read about his life. Although reading two biographies does not make me an expert, it’s been fun to read reviews now that I feel I know about the man! I hope this overview of Wilkie’s life interests you too.

The Biographies

I read two biographies of Wilkie Collins. The first attracted me because the title seemed appropriate for a writer of suspense. The Secret Life of Wilkie Collins by William Clarke gave me a fresh look into Wilkie’s personal life and the controversy and complications of his circumstances. It was written by the husband of Wilkie’s great-grandaughter, so he had a personal interest in proving the facts of Wilkie’s mistresses and children. The biography met those needs, it was well researched, and it was well notated.

Yet, Secret Life failed to give me a complete picture of Wilkie Collins as a popular writer, and therefore it left me wanting more. I turned to Catherine Peters’ comprehensive biography, The King of Inventors, to get a well-rounded perspective. Since Peters’ biography was published after Clarke’s, I should have gone straight there.

Peters’ biography was what I expect when I read a biography of a literary man. She looks both at his life and at his works. Peters details the controversies and unknown aspects of his personal and family life.  Then, for his most significant publications, Peters spends a few pages discussing why the books were monumental, which seems appropriate for one dubbed “King of Inventors.” Even though I skipped a few paragraphs when I was unfamiliar with a novel and therefore unable to follow the discussion, I was still able to understand the overall discussions about the breakthroughs Wilkie made in his writing.

As I have returned Secret Life to the library, all references below are to King of Inventors.

The Beginning

image via Wikipedia

From his birth in 1824, William Wilkie Collins looked strange, with a bulge on the upper right of his head, probably the result of a difficult birth. He was always self-conscious of his forehead, and his large beard in his later life may have been an attempt to distract from the unbalanced look of his head (pages 18-19). He also was horribly short-sighted throughout his life and had unusually small hands and feet.

His was named after his father, the artist William Collins, and his godfather, the Scottish painter David Wilkie. Wilkie (called Willie as a child) was not impressed with his father’s religious piety, and Peters’ suggests that Miss Clack in The Moonstone is part of Wilkie’s response to his father (page 306). On the other hand, Wilkie was always close to his mother, and lived with her until 1856 (age 32).

Although he spent only one year (age 13) touring Italy with his family, Wilkie considered it a “crucial” point to his development as a writer. Among other things, he learned about life outside of his own closed family circle. From my perspective, it seems he had a remarkable memory of people and places, able to rework the images in his mind into a story even many years later.

It’s good that Wilkie had memorable experiences in Italy, for he was teased at boarding school upon his return and was actually bullied into telling stories to the other boys; if a story wasn’t interesting, they’d bully him more (page 50). That was a good start for the budding novelist; he wrote his first novel (about Tahiti) as a teenager.

A Literary Man

His father may have wanted Wilkie to become a painter, but instead Wilkie eventually entered Lincoln’s Inn to study law. When his father died in 1847, Wilkie stopped working on his second novel to write his father’s biography, which he’d promised to do. Although Wilkie wanted to write novels, he realized that writing a good biography of a respectable painter may help him get in the door with publishers (page 76). He was right.

When I read The Woman in White and The Moonstone, I found it remarkable that an author could write such a coherent story over the course of more than a year of serialization. He had to know, from the beginning, how it would end. Wilkie Collins did: he wrote outlines and plans before beginning a novel so he would not have problems later. His contemporary writers particularly disliked the idea: “Such work gives me no pleasure,” said Anthony Trollope (page 392).

In his good novels, Wilkie brilliantly captures characters, settings, and plot. There is suspense as it had never been done, and mystery as it had never been written. He wrote about fallen women; he wrote about people with disabilities; he wrote about sexual tension.

Today, we may read his works and not think them extraordinary, but at the time, he was an inventor of a new type of fiction. Peters discusses most of Wilkie’s major works in detail, discussing how Collins is an “inventor.” I look forward to reading them now that I have a better understanding of how monumental they were!

A Ladies’ Man and a Family Man

Wilkie met Charles Dickens at the acting troupe of amateur actors (all artists and writers) in the late 1850s. Although Dickens was 12 years Wilkie’s senior, the two struck up an unusual bond, as Wilkie became Dickens’ favorite companion for “nightly wanderings in strange places” (page 98). Together, they traveled Europe frequently. (The first time they traveled together, Dickens was disgusted by Wilkie’s immaturity and cheap ways). Wilkie eventually worked for many years on Dickens’ staff at the serial magazine All the World Round.

Although Dickens worked hard to keep his subsequent affair with Ellen Ternan (which began in 1857) a secret, Wilkie Collins did not attempt to hide his two mistresses. This difference in dealing with a personal matter may have lead to the rift between the two writers in later life.

Wilkie supposedly had his first love affair in Rome at age 13, and from then on he was unabashed in flirtation. In 1858 (age 34), he began to live openly with the widow Caroline Graves, who had a young daughter (called Carrie). Supposedly, Wilkie met Caroline in a situation that inspired the opening story of The Woman in White, but there is no solid evidence of that (see page 191). Caroline was not of middle-class upbringing, but Wilkie did not like dinner parties and the physical restrictions of the middle class, so that appealed to him (page 195).

In the late 1860s, Caroline left Wilkie and married another man. Her marriage did not take, for she returned to Wilkie soon afterwards, who had, by that time, begun a second liaison with Martha Rudd, a young woman with an even lower upbringing. Yet,

Martha herself was an incarnation of the courageous and independent-minded young working women Wilkie had always found touching and intriguing. (page 294)

Martha and Wilkie went by the alias of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, and Wilkie was to father three children. Wilkie loved being a father, and the children often traveled with him and Caroline (Martha was, apparently, not respectable enough to travel with him).

Although Wilkie Collins was quite a ladies’ man, it probably won’t surprise his readers to know he liked a woman who could think for herself.

Though he was far from conventionally attractive, Wilkie had the ability to charm and amuse women of all ages. He wooed them with his story-telling, with comic verse and intimate affectionate letters. … Though Wilkie was not in the least interested in female emancipation, he liked women who where intelligent and gifted and spoke their minds. (page 122)

I found it strange to read that he doesn’t have any interest in female emancipation, since it seems that his books have strong women: I would have thought he would like to support women and free them from Victorian class status. He lived with one woman and had three children by another, so this life style seems in conflict with the message his novels share. Peters brings up this issue. She herself asks that question and then answers it:

How could Wilkie continue, though out his association with Martha,  to write polemical roman a these in which ‘fallen women’ were reinvigorated into society through marriage to great-hearted, unconventional radicals, fighting to break down class barriers? Though he thought the legal forms quite irrelevant, he took care to keep ‘readers in general’ contented with a conventional happy ending. (page 297).

Wilkie Collins, in other words, was still rather Victorian in his attitudes. He treated the women in his life well, from his perspective, but from my modern perspective, it seems he used them as he pleased. Caroline was always referred to as his “housekeeper.” Martha was a “kept woman” (she had a very generous living allowance), literally stuck with raising his family. When I understood that Martha was unable to escape the situation if she had wanted to, it seems sad to me. That said, both woman (from this distance) seemed happy with their lives.

An Ill Man

For much of his life, Wilkie struggled with “rheumatic gout,” a type of arthritis. Wilkie’s gout returned at times of stress, such as when he was under pressure to write a serial. Occasionally it attacked his eyes, and he would dictate to Caroline’s daughter, Carrie (page 335). From the early 1860s, he began taking laudanum (tincture of opium) for the pain. By the time he died in 1889, he was taking enough each day to kill twelve people (page 336).

In later years, his writing deteriorated. After The Moonstone in 1868, Wilkie did not write another such successful novel. There were some modest successes, but nothing to the same extent of his early writing. After an unpopular serial novel, magazines would not serialize his next. They even suggested that he was too literary (and therefore too expensive) for their household magazine (page 395).

Wilkie also took the time to tour America and Canada, but he was not as popular there. He also struggled to retain copyright in America; his publications were constantly underscored by illegal pirated versions, both in print and on the stage.

Peters mentions that Wilkie’s successes at the theater were detrimental to his novels. Earlier in his career, he would write a novel (such as Armadale) and then later in his career, he’d adapt it for a theater production (Miss Gwilt). In later years, he would write a novel with a theater production in mind. Thus, his later novels have less character development and more theatricality and dialogue.

Peters also suggests that he was stale.

Little of his work after The Moonstone transcends its era and the limitations of the sensation genre. By comparison with the novels Wilkie Collins wrote in the 1860s, many of the later ones seem flat and dated. (page 313)

Wilkie’s favorite writers throughout his life were Honore de Balzac, Sir Walter Scott, Lord Byron, and James Fenimore Cooper. Although they might have been influential in the beginning of his life, by the end, these were still his favorite, and he had no taste for the newer styles of fiction out there. So, while Wilkie began as an “inventor” of new types of fiction, in the end he began to resent those who invented new fiction (see page 377-8 and 420-421).

In the end, whether it was his opium addiction that brought about less clear descriptions, or his desire to put moral lessons in his novels, or his own inability to see the world in a cutting-edge way, Wilkie Collins lost his ability to consistently write engaging novels. His last years were hit or miss. When he died, his estate was worth just over £10,000, much less than he’d have expected. As specified in his will, the money was divided between the families of his mistresses. Although he’d intended for them to live well, they vanished into obscurity. Probably due to embarrassment at their own illegitimacy, his three children went by the name of Dawson for the remainder of their lives.

In Conclusion

Wilkie Collins’ life is almost as fascinating as his sensational novels. One of the aspects of Peters’ biography that I loved was her detailed discussion of the books Wilkie wrote: particularly the inspiration for the story and the ways in which each book was innovative for Victorian England. I don’t, however, have the time or space to detail all of them. If you are interested in Wilkie Collins (and this post still hasn’t fulfilled your craving!), I’d highly recommend Peters’ biography, The King of Inventors. It really puts Wilkie’s Victorian literature into context.

Also, check out the rest of the Wilkie Collins Classic Circuit.

• The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
• My Victorian Summer: We Two by Gillian Gill and Armadale by Wilkie Collins + Reading Journal
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• Reading Journal (16 December): A Classics Circuit TBR List from Wilkie Collins to Harlem
• A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
• March by Geraldine Brooks
• Why Women Should Rule the World by Dee Dee Myers
• Jane Austen: A Biography by Carol Shields, a Quote Book, and a History of England
• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts

I think I’d say the Lehrer was my preferred of these two, only because I hadn’t realized the Sacks was abridged. At any rate, I enjoyed both books and would love to revisit either other again in the future.

Proust was a Neuroscientist by Jonah Lehrer

Jonah Lehrer writes about some of the giants of the humanities as if they were neuroscientists, a hundred years ahead of their time. I found myself eager to read, eat, visit a museum, and listen to the music of the artists he discusses. It was truly fascinating, and it showed me that science and humanities really do go hand in hand.

I was fascinated to hear a scientists’ perspective about Proust’s understanding of memory in In Search of Lost Time. While I haven’t read the books, I have had my own memories. Lehrer’s commentary actually got me excited to read Proust’s masterwork! Lehrer also talked about Escoffier’s innate understanding of taste and the pleasures of eating, and in retrospect, I think this is what got me on my current “Spice of Life” kick (i.e., reading more books for my own Spice of Life Challenge). When he talked about Cezanne’s painting style as a commentary on how we see and Stravinsky’s music as a commentary on how we listen to music, I had to come and find some examples of Cezanne and Stravinsky.

Cezanne image via Wikipedia

Not surprisingly, Stravinsky’s Rites of Spring does not sound all that dissonant to me. It is amazing to think it caused rioting on opening night because it was so disturbingly different. In fact, not 30 years after the rioting opening night, Disney adapted it for Fantasia. (This is the first 7 1/2 minutes of Fantasia‘s version.)

Lehrer also discusses Whitman in terms of “Feeling”; Eliot in terms of “Freedom” (the only chapter I didn’t really understand); Gertrude Stein in terms of “language”; and Virginia Woolf in terms of “self.”

In the acknowledgments, Lehrer says that while he dreamed of being a research neuroscientist, he quickly realized he “wasn’t good enough.” I have to say that his ability to bring neuroscience down to an understandable level for this lay-person was certainly good enough. In fact, it was excellent!

Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks

I loved learning about music from Oliver Sacks’ neuroscientific perspective. Although Sacks’ is obviously a very well-renowned scientist, his book made the scientific process very easy to approach. This book is a great start for a nonscientific person like myself! (I may have to copy Eva in reading all his books!)

However, let me just say from the get go of this review that I was horrified to learn, after the last track of the audiobook ended and the audio-producer spoke, that what I had just listened to was an ABRIDGMENT. I was so mad, for it says nothing of the sort on the cover. I look for that, and I always make sure my audiobooks are not abridged. Now I wish I had not listened to this, for I would have loved to read all of it.

I consider myself a musical person.  Although I cannot listen to music while doing brain intensive things (such as studying when I was a student) I do love music and I love singing. I lead music for the young children at church, and occasionally I’ve been in choirs. All of Oliver Sacks’ stories, then, were quite interesting to me as his book contained, as the subtitle suggested, “Tales of Music and the Brain.”

He begins by talking about all the disturbing things about music: non-musical people who, after being struck by lightning, now play the piano; people who have seizures when a particular type of music is heard; the songs that get in our head and don’t go away; musical hallucinations in which people hear loud music, even when there is no music playing anywhere. These sections were most challenging to listen to, because I felt it made me wonder how I’d cope if music were a disturbing influence in my life, rather than a pleasant one.

In the next section, Sacks focuses on the different ranges of musicality in people. On one side, some people are musical geniuses. Others have perfect pitch (incidentally, those that grew up speaking a tonal language as a first language are more likely to have perfect pitch). On the other hand, some people have amusia, where they cannot hear music properly. Sacks discusses impact of cochlear amusia (when people age and therefore become hard of hearing) and people that go through occasional and seemingly random amusia at various points of his life. I can see why he’s so interested in the subject, since he mentions having had amusiac experiences in his life!

The last bit of the audiobook focused the impact of music therapy on people with various illnesses and struggles. People with severe amnesia – so severe they cannot remember more than 15 seconds – found they could still sit at a piano and play something from beginning to end. Those with severe dementia, who could not have a coherent conversation, likewise could sing a song from beginning to end. These aren’t people that have had musical training, per se, but the impact of music on a person’s life is apparently enough to bring them back to reality, even if only briefly.

Sacks obviously talked about a lot more than I’ve mentioned here. But that last bit is what stood out to me most. Even without having musical training, having perfect pitch, or being some kind of musical savant, having music in our life brings us to a different state of being. It can help us find emotional grounding, and that is enough for me to want to keep beautiful music in my home!

Do you like music?

Have you ever considered art from the perspective of neuroscience?

• Reading Journal (18 Nov): Planning for a Quiet December
• The Planets by Dava Sobel + A Giveaway
• Jazz by Toni Morrison
• Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
• Christmas Countdown: Music Collections I Love
• Lullabies
• The Magic Flute by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Emanuel Schikaneder
• The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa
• A Few Books on Biological Science (DNA, The X in Sex, and a Graphic Adaptation of Darwin)
• Carmen by Prosper Merimee

Jane Austen: A Life by Carol Shields

I loved Carol Shields’ biography of Jane Austen! The narrator for the audiobook had a lovely Austen-esque British accent, which gave it a great sense of place. Then Shields began by admitting that she’s an “amateur Jane Austen fan” who goes to the Jane Austen Society of North America meetings because she loves Austen so much. That made me think of her as a kindred spirit.

While I haven’t read many Austen novels (yet), I loved Shields’ emphasis on the fact that we can learn from and compare Jane Austen’s own life to the setting, characters, and situations in her novels.

It was very short (about 5 ½ hours, the equivalent of 180 pages) and yet I feel I have a greater understanding of the remarkable woman who wrote some delightful romances.

Some random facts about Jane Austen (and long-time Austen fans probably already know all of these things):

• Jane Austen spent her first years farmed out to a neighbor for nursing purposes. (Apparently, mothers did not normally feed their own babies.)
• Jane Austen had a romantic interest in Thomas Lefroy but neither of them had money, so nothing came of it.
• Jane Austen was engaged for one night to Harris Big-Wither. She returned the next morning to cancel the engagement.
• Jane’s sister Cassandra was engaged to a sailor, who died. He left Cassandra all his money in his will. Cassandra never married.
• Jane’s father wrote the query letter to a publisher for the manuscript of Pride and Prejudice; he really believed in her!
• Jane’s novel (now known as) Northanger Abbey was purchased for ten pounds, but never published; Jane eventually bought it back. It was not published until after her death.
• When her father retired (he was a vicar), he moved the unmarried Austen sisters to Bath, where he died, leaving his widowed wife and two unmarried daughters rather poor. Jane did not write any novels during the ten years she lived in Bath.
• Jane had to pay out-of-pocket to get Sense and Sensibility (first published novel) printed.
• Jane Austen was “encouraged” to dedicate Emma to the Prince Regent, which she was probably not happy about, since he probably never read it.
• Jane Austen died age age 41 of what may have been breast cancer (although Wikipedia suggests Hodgkin’s lymphoma).

Jane Austen’s Little Advice Book edited by Cathryn Michon and Pamela Norris

Then I turned to a short little quote book that jumped out at me while I was at the library one day. The editors of this quote book admit feeling a little guilty to earning money on this book, since Jane Austen herself never earned more than £700 in her lifetime. Yet, it’s rather cute and it was fun to read over the course of an hour.

Using only Jane’s own words, including letters, her unpublished works, and her published novels, the editors give us Austen’s “advice” on Men and Women, Love and Marriage, Family, Worldy Things, The Human Condition, Social Life, The Literary Life, Odd Topics, and Jane Predicts the Future. They readily admit that they take quotes out of context, and I must say that the editors’ comments on each quote are the most amusing parts. From those chapters, I must say my favorite part was the “predicts the future” section, with such quotes as these.

On Predicting the Success of the TV Series E.R.

A sick chamber may often furnish the worth of volumes. (from Persuasion)

On Not Worrying About the Ozone Layer

What fine weather this is… at least everybody fancies so, and imagination is everything. (from the letters of Jane Austen)

There are 125 pages worth of fun quotes, and reading through them got me even more excited to read Sense and Sensibility (as well as the other novels) in the future.

Two Histories of England by Jane Austen and Charles Dickens

Jane Austen’s The History of England and A Child’s History of England by Charles Dickens are a bit harder for me to write about because, um, I know nothing about the history of England. Therefore, I missed the delightful jibes and jokes that Austen wrote and, while I understood Dickens had an interesting bias and judgment of history, it did not make sense to me in a historical way as the writer of the introduction indicated it would.

Jane Austen wrote her short manuscript for her sister when she was 16, and it was clearly a parody of history books. From my perspective, it certainly was amusing. For example:

“Edward the 5^th: This unfortunate prince lived so little a while that nobody had time to draw his picture.” (page 5)

Her snide remarks about various kings and queens really went over my head, since, as I mention, I know little about England’s history. I can only assume her frequent and over-the-top defense of the Stuarts was more sarcasm.

Charles Dickens’ A Child’s History of England is also sarcastic and judgmental. He refers to King James the First as “His Sowship” because that’s what James’ favorite helper called him and Dickens “cannot do better than call his majesty what his favourite called him” (page 72). The disdain is just dripping throughout the descriptions of the king’s reign.

But Dickens’ history (which is much longer, and apparently is only an excerpt from the whole) is packed full of all sorts of extraneous details that make it fascinating and fun. I loved learning about the Gunpowder Plot through Dickens’ imaginative story!

To me, the most amusing thing about Dickens’ account  is that, according to the introduction, it was actually a part of the school curricula for British school children “well into the 20^th century” (introduction, page ix). My question is: was it used as a history text or rather as a humourous part of British culture? As I read, I kept laughing at the thought of this being a proper history textbook. There were so many descriptive beheadings!

I first saw this on Heather J.’s blog and I had to get it!

Have any people from England read Austen’s or Dickens’ histories? I’m curious as to the “accuracy” and/or the impact of the humor on those that actually are familiar with the history of England.

Which Austen novels are your favorites? I’ve still only read Pride and Prejudice and Northanger Abbey. (But I’ve seen all the movies!)

• Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
• Churchill’s History of the English-Speaking Peoples, abridged by Henry Steele Commager
• Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
• The Life of Our Lord by Charles Dickens
• Personal History by Katharine Graham + Why I Love a Great Biography
• Twenty Years at Hull-House by Jane Addams
• November in Review + Reading Journal (2 Dec)
• Victorian Second Helpings (The Moonstone by Collins and North and South by Gaskell)
• Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
• A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

You see, I’ve been converted. There is, there has been, and there will have been, only one Julia Child in all of history. Her story (which I read in My Life in France) is fascinating and inspiring, her cooking style (which I experienced in part in Julia’s Kitchen Wisdom) is refreshingly simple, and together the two Julia Child books I read gave me hope for my own pathetic cooking abilities. It is, therefore, completely unfair to include Ms. Franklin’s book (and my criticisms of it) in the same post. Nevertheless, because I read Julia Child on the wake of Too Many Cooks, Ms. Franklin is a part of my experience in the past few weeks.

I enjoyed Too Many Cooks: Kitchen Adventures with 1 Mom, 4 Kids, and 102 Recipes by Emily Franklin to some extent. Some of her ideas were right on with what I’d expect. For example, she believes one gets kids to eat healthful foods by feeding them healthful foods, not by hiding vegetables in brownies. Also, she suggests great ways to introduce unfamiliar foods by explaining how they are similar to the foods the children are already familiar with.

Yet, I had expected more cooking inspiration for how to feed a family. Instead, I felt it was a Mommy-blog style book, with lots of emphasis on how great a mom she is because she does such and such. That’s not to say it was bad: it just wasn’t my style, since I personally get bored with mommy blogs. “Mommy blogs” also give me a guilt complex since I know I will never have the energy and talent, for example, to improvise a muffin recipe in the 45 minutes before soccer practice.

Too Many Cooks also failed to inspire me in the kitchen because it seemed Ms Franklin was so far beyond my abilities, especially since she readily admitted to having worked as a cook in a luxury yacht in the years before mommy-hood. In my pre-mommy years, I was preparing Rice-a-Roni four or five nights a week. That’s not to say the recipes in Too Many Cooks (for example, Monte Cristo sandwiches and Cornish pasties and chicken nuggets) are “fancy” or incredibly challenging. But they are not simple, and they are not recipes that give you a foundation for future cooking. (I felt rather incompetent when Ms. Franklin’s easy Mommy Chicken Nuggets recipe took me two hours. I wrote a few posts about some of the recipes I tried on my Cooking Journal.)

I didn’t realize how uninspired I was until I picked up Julia’s Kitchen Wisdom, a slim 110-page volume Julia Child produced in the last years of her life. I’ve always been intimidated by Julia Child, since Mastering the Art of French Cooking is a monster tome (and comes in two volumes) and “French Cooking” in general is not practical for a mommy on a budget. In short, I’ve been afraid of reading Julia Child.

All that was without foundation, for Julia’s Wisdom made cooking sound easy. The best part is that I believe her: it is that easy. She’s not trying to give us recipes for a lifetime of cooking: she’s trying to share tidbits of the most important techniques that we may need over a lifetime. Her philosophy is

Once you have mastered a technique, you hardly need look at a recipe again. (page 3, Julia’s Kitchen Wisdom)

Kitchen Wisdom has a few basic recipes for soups; salads;  vegetables; meats, poultry and fish; egg cookery; breads, crepes, and tarts; cakes and cookies. Each section also has ideas for variations. I’ve tried a few of the recipes and they seem simple enough. While they all certainly have the French influence, they are not as overwhelming as I anticipated. I almost want to check out Mastering the Art of French Cooking now!

As I write about this book of “essentials,” I am reminded of Alice Waters’ book (The Art of Simple Food), which I reviewed at the beginning of the Spice of Life Challenge. I’m not sure what the difference was (both focus on the basics to help us know how to make food taste good) but in some respects, I feel Julia Child is better able to speak to the incompetent cook: myself.

I fell even more in love with Julia Child when I read her memoir, My Life in France. Just as I doubted her cookbook, I doubted I’d relate to this story. But I was delightfully surprised. I was amazed to learn that when she was first married, her cooking was much like my cooking when I was first married:

My meals were satisfactory, but they took hours of laborious effort to produce. I’d usually plop something on the table by 10:00 p.m., have a few bites, and collapse into bed. (My Life in France, page 6)

Julia Child did not know how to cook. Her husband’s work took them to France, and there Julia Child found herself without much to do. But the delectable food had made an impression on her from the first day, and she became determined to learn how to produce it.

I could relate to that as well. Although I am not sure I’ve had any true “French” food, my husband took me to a delicious restaurant in Chicago while we were dating and I was so impressed by the meal as an experience I’ve wanted to improve my own cooking abilities. There is something about eating that can move you, if you let it!

The most impressive part of Julia Child’s story was her determination. She spent weeks on a project (mayonnaise, for example) until she got it right. Although she was a student at the Cordon Bleu, the school was (from this perspective) rather inept, and she had to teach herself the essentials of cooking. And she did.

Although a French-style cook book for American audiences was Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle’s idea, Julia Child was the one that understood what creating such a book for an American audience would require. She was the one that worked out the amounts for most of the recipes. Although Simone Beck did a lot of work too, Julia Child was the rock behind the project. If you’ll pardon a ridiculous pun, she was the yeast that allowed it to rise to its monumental size, depth, and ultimate success.

I loved the memoir. I loved Julia’s relationship with her husband, Paul. I loved the image of France it created in my mind. It’s probably changed since then (as Julia mentions), but the idyllic people, places, and food were simply fascinating from the historical perspective. We can only wish it were so peaceful now! (And someday I will make it to Provence.)

There were so many inspiring quotes in My Life in France. I imagine it is one I’ll reread someday: maybe then I’ll take care to write down the snippets of Julia’s wisdom so we can all learn from the Master.

Julia Child’s memoir (and her cook book) is inspiring for the busy family cook. Just as it illustrates that learning to cook good food is not a year-long project, but a life-long pursuit, it also illustrates that it is possible and even fun! Thanks to Julia Child for bringing delicious food to America, and for giving housewives the inspiration to attempt the seemingly impossible!

As my husband said every time I stopped reading to tell him an inspiring story: “There is a reason Julia Child is a household name!”

• My Spice of Life “Feast”: A Pool of Books to Chose From
• The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters
• A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg
• The Elements of Cooking by Michael Ruhlman
• The Spice of Life Challenge
• An Edge in the Kitchen by Chad Ward
• Pretend Soup by Mollie Katzen and Ann Henderson
• The Making of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman
• Reading Journal (4 Nov): Reading Progress and Library Loot
• Reading Journal (28 October): Thoughts on Read-a-thons and Eye Strain