In 1955, a mother of five took a vacation to the beach. For two weeks, she had no husband or children seeking her, no hot water, no telephone, and no obligations, other than to reach inside for much needed rejuvenation as she wrote, searched for pretty shells, and pondered life. In Gift from the Sea,

As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve been struggling to post thoughts on the books I’ve read recently. But I saw this article and knew I needed to get these thoughts up now. The topic is an interesting one, and that article about the book I just read reminded me to get in gear and gather my

Yesterday evening I returned home from my classics book club meeting very sad. We read Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, and when I last read it, I remember wishing I could read and discuss with other classics readers. My classics reading group (last year, a total of four of us) agreed to give it a

Leslie McGuirk’s “discovered alphabet” in If Rocks Could Sing (Tricycle Press, 2011) gives life to rocks by discovering everything from birds and dogs to kicking and noses in the rocks themselves. Although my son loves alphabet books, I must admit that I usually find them rather tiresome and redundant. Leslie McGuirk’s alphabet is anything but

After reading Me…Jane by Patrick McDonnell (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, April 2011), I must admit that I had not been very familiar with the life of Jane Goodall, who is an expert on chimpanzees and anthropology and a proponent of environmental and social issues. My son (age 4) certainly had never heard of Jane

In a simple rhythm and using bright and realistic paintings of animals, Nadia Krilanovich introduces animal and their sounds to the young reader in Chicken Chicken Duck (Tricycle Press, 2011). The animals are all stacked on top of each other in silly ways, and they are also painted on a plain white background, which is

It is not often that I finish a book and feel nothing positive. I tend to like most of what I read, and even if I don’t like it, I try to find something that sheds light on life in some way. I struggle now to think of what I could possibly find redeeming in

As my son sat watching Dora the Explorer, I thought of my recent read of Fahrenheit  451 (1953). “Say, ‘backpack!’” Dora said. “Backpack,” Raisin responded. “Louder!” Dora’s friend prompted. “Backpack!” Raisin yelled. And this is just what Guy Montag’s wife (did she garner a name? It slips my mind now) does all day long in

Thornton Wilder’s sparse and simple play Our Town was first produced during the Great Depression (1938). In a set without any scenery beyond chairs and tables and in three short acts, Thornton Wilder creates an intimacy with the characters. This is probably due to the familiarity of the subject: life, love, and death in a

In honor of my recent trip to New York City, I bring you thoughts on two books about the buildings in the city: Urban Animals and Building Stories, both picture books by Isabel Hill featuring images from the buildings of New York City. Urban Animals By showing the images of animals as carved in and