Fr. Robert Barron on The Hunger Games

After I posted yesterday, I was led to this video link, in which Fr. Barron talks about The Hunger Games, and today I found this written piece (he is basically saying the same thing in each, so you may watch or read.)

And here is today's update from him, a terrific one at that:

Happy Birthday to A Wrinkle in Time

It's fifty years old!*

~~~~~

Here's an NPR story about the book, and here is one of my favorite L'Engle quotes: 

"You have to write the book that wants to be written. 

And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, 

then you write it for children." 

Rebecca Stead, author of the excellent When You Reach Me, gets it. In the NPR article, she says: 

"A Wrinkle in Time also asks these huge questions, really, about the universe, and good and evil, and the power of love, and all of this crazy science and complex ideas. It assumes that kids are able to think about all that stuff. I think that a lot of people forget that, or never realize it, but a children's book is really the best place to ask big questions. Our worlds get smaller as we get older," Stead says.

~~~~~

Here's a quick round-up of my past L'Engle posts:

Anne-with-an-e's review (written when she was 14) of A Ring of Endless Light.

Some great L'Engle quotes.
(Updated to note: I fixed the quote link and it should take you to the right location now. And, here's a link to every post in which I ever mentioned Madeleine L'Engle!)

My fangirl moment with Madeleine L'Engle.

~~~~~

And, from an online writing pal, Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda, here's a great interview from June, 2000 that ran in St. Anthony Messenger magazine.

~~~~~

*Ramona looked over my shoulder and said, "Wow, Mommy, you're older than A Wrinkle in Time." I said, "Yeah, honey, thanks for pointing that out," and she replied, "No problem. It's what I do best." 

O Flesh, Flesh, How Art Thou Fishified!

That's one of the lines my girls loved in Romeo and Juliet. I suspect they will also be calling people pestilent knaves. Yesterday I heard, "How now?" from Anne, and of course, "wherefore" in lieu of "why" has become commonplace. 
 
We just finished reading the play together this morning, and together is a wonderful way to experience Shakespeare.

We've had such fun, getting up early, before Ramona is stirring, reading and sipping tea and, one day, watching Alan Rickman as Tybalt:


(Thanks to Atticus for remembering it.)

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Charlotte's Web

I'm reading Charlotte's Web to Ramona, and every time I reread this gem, I'm struck by something deeply delightful.

"From eleven to twelve, (Wilbur) planned to stand still and watch flies on the boards, watch bees in the clover, and watch swallows in the air."

*****

More later, when I actually have time to blog.

They just don't make 'em like they used to

Awhile back, I wrote about how much we love the Martha and Charlotte Books, and about how we grieved to see them undergo abridgment surgery. These books have become part of our shared family history.

It's currently on my mind, because I'm reading the Martha Books to Ramona. This is to be her "Little House" year, and she was adamant that we start at the very beginning. I was going to alternate Martha books with Laura Ingalls Wilder's books, but Ramona would have none of it. After the first Martha book, she insisted that we read the whole series with nothing else in between.

We finished Little House in the Highlands one evening last week, while Anne-with-an-e and Betsy were out with Atticus. When the girls got home, they were shocked and dismayed that I'd had the gall to finish it without them.

"But Duncan is awesome in that last chapter! I love that chapter!"

"I know," I said. "He really is a great brother, isn't he?"

"Uh, yeah! I can't believe you didn't wait for us to get home!"

I felt awful -- as if I'd let them sleep through Christmas morning, and later told them, "We didn't think you'd mind if we opened your presents."

Because, as much as my older girls have said they didn't need to sit down for every, single reading of Little House in the Highlands and The Far Side of the Loch (which we just finished tonight) because they know these stories inside and out, somehow they keep drifting into the room when I read. They laugh and reminisce and then begin speaking in lovely Scottish brogues.

I remember our enchantment when we first discovered the books, and it delights me to share them all over again with Ramona, whose eyes lit up when she realized that Martha, in the first book, is exactly six years old, a Ramona kind of age. To watch my youngest daughter laugh, and get the jokes, and then become serious at all the right moments, especially when Martha loses her beloved Lady Flora doll, to see Ramona nod in solemn understanding when the author so skillfully describes what grief feels like to a six-year-old ... well, I don't have to tell you how lovely that is, even though I just did.

If you're hoping to find unabridged copies of the books, there are still some out there, and Melissa Wiley points you toward them in this post.

And next up for us? Ramona can't wait to start Down to the Bonny Glen. Her brogue is getting better every day.

Books I've been ordering

Or gathering, since I'm also browsing my own shelves.

Some of what's on our reading lists for this year:

To Kill a Mockingbird
My Antonia
A Tale of Two Cities
The Scarlet Letter
Pride and Prejudice
The Princess and Curdie
The Princess and the Goblin
Sun Slower, Sun Faster
They Loved to Laugh
Romeo and Juliet

I'm out of blogging time already, and am off to bake cookies with Ramona. I'll be back tomorrow with more of our shopping/shelf-browsing results!

The Striped Ships: book review

I can thank Kathryn of The Bookworm for recommending this one as part of our Medieval study.

It's the year 1066, and young Juliana, a Saxon thane's daughter, is on the beach when she sees the striped ships arrive. Her life changes quickly, drastically and miserably after the Norman invasion; Juliana's life will never be the same.

Enduring countless hardships, including separation from most of her family, Juliana struggles to survive and find her way. She's a realistic, tough and admirable character, one the girls and I liked very much.

Eloise McGraw uses vocabulary proper to the time period (a glossary is included in the back of the book) which adds to the authenticity of this historical novel. We enjoyed the characters, the plot, and we learned a lot, too. We shared some terrific discussion about politics, prejudice and points of view. Who was right, and who was wrong in this story? Did Harold Godwinson really swear an oath to William and later break it? Is he not the man Juliana thought he was? Or was he? Who writes history? Who gets to tell the story?

We also took a quick side-trip to look further into the Bayeux Tapestry, which plays a prominent role in the story.

Some fascinating links for further exploration of the tapestry can be found here at Bayeux Tapestry.org, and here and here, at Hastings1066.com. Not to be outdone, YouTube offers an "animated" Bayeux Tapestry. (Yes, really. Kinda fun, too, though of course, you'll ask yourself, "Who has time to do that?")

The Striped Shipsis appropriate for roughly ages 12 and up. As I read aloud, I dropped a couple of unsavory references, but other than that, no editing was necessary. The book is out of print, but I had no trouble finding a used copy for a reasonable price.

Recent Reading: For the Love of Literature

Maureen Wittmann's For the Love of Literature: Teaching Core Subjects with Literature was part of my needed refueling this Christmas break.

Karen Andreola, coined the term "Mother Culture" to refer to activities and interests that will revive a tired, busy mom. And, while one might argue that reading about homeschooling isn't exactly what a homeschooling mother on break should do, it is exactly one of the things I needed.

It did revive me. I felt encouraged by the tone and the reassurance of things I already knew -- that extraordinary amounts of learning happen through literature -- and I know it's a resource I will go back to time and again.

It offers over 950 titles -- living books arranged by subject and age appropriateness.

That much literature should get us through at least the next few months. And, thank you Maureen, for adding to my fuel to my homeschooling fire.

Recent Reading: The Father Brown Reader

Nancy Brown's The Father Brown Reader is a delightful book. I'm not usually an advocate of condensed or abridged books, so why am I so enthusiastic about this? Because I think it's an excellent introduction to Chesterton for children, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, too.

I have to admit that I haven't read the original Fr. Brown mysteries, as I'm not much of a mystery buff (though the fact that Chesterton wrote them has always had me curious about them.)

But, my kids do enjoy mysteries, and this was no exception.

We read it together (we love our read-alouds) and the girls truly enjoyed the intrigue and the subtle humor. Even Ramona was paying attention and remarked on what a silly club those gentlemen had (you'll have to read the book to find out what I mean.)

And, there are lovely talking points about the faith, such as this remark from Fr. Brown (after revealing that he knew someone was not what he said he was) : "You attacked reason," said Fr. Brown. "It's bad theology." Now there's some fodder for conversation with the kids.

And (in case you're wondering) not one of the stories is a murder mystery, so they're appropriate for the younger set as well as for your older kids.

Enjoy!

And congratulations, Nancy, on bringing Chesterton to a whole new audience!

How literature teaches us beautiful things

Last year at this time, I posted this, about Ramona and one of our Advent books:

Yesterday, I told Ramona, "We get to go to Mass, to celebrate Mary's Immaculate Conception!"
She replied, "Oh, yes! Mary -- the ship! The rose!"
And I realized that she was recalling the images of Mary from Barbara Helen Berger's lovely book, The Donkey's Dream, which introduces children to traditional imagery for the Blessed Virgin.
For more about the imagery (a city, a ship, a fountain, a rose, a lady full of heaven) in this exquisitely illustrated book, see this link at the author's website.
For more indepth information, see this excellent article from Ignatius Insight.

This year, The Donkey's Dream is still one of Ramona's favorite Advent books. She has asked for it nearly every day. And, I love to read it to her, because I dearly love this book, too. It is beautiful and magical. The illustrations are celestial. It teaches, as all good literature does, without appearing to teach a thing.

Literature allows us to absorb "lessons" (which, to my mind, really means just learning how to live) by way of beauty and immersion, pondering and talking.

Immerse yourself in beautiful picture books and other literature this Advent, and see if the "lessons" don't stick far better than anything over which your kids will be tested.

Son of Charlemagne

We just finished reading Barbara Willard's Son of Charlemagne. The girls and I really enjoyed it, and found it even more compelling than Augustine Came to Kent.

The life of Charlemagne (742-814), or Charles, King of the Franks, is viewed through the eyes of his son, Carl. Because we are seeing through the eyes of a child (and later, a young man) who loves and admires his father, one might assume that the portrait will be too rosy but Willard does a fine job of portraying Charles as a flawed and conflicted man and a product of his time. The order to kill more than 4,000 Saxons at Verden, for example, is presented in a relatively straightforward manner, with the implication throughout the rest of the book that the incident may have been one of the greatest sorrows of Charles's life. At the same time, repentance is never explicit and Charles maintains (and his son assents) that it was the only decision he could have made given the circumstances.

It's in light of such actions that the girls and I discussed the ways in which one can be "a product of one's time." In his history of the Catholic Church, Triumph, H.W. Crocker (in the section on Charlemagne) puckishly laments the passing of the days when "one could be both a Catholic warrior and a Frankish barbarian without contradiction." It's exactly that sort of contradiction that led to some good discussion here. The girls originally had no sympathy whatsoever for Charles, and were scolding him for his hypocrisies. By the end of the book, they judged him to be a man ("He was definitely human," said Anne) of greatness in many ways (who would not admire his deep love of family?) but also one who made a great many mistakes.

A book for children that can acknowledge and communicate such complexity is a treasure indeed. Highly recommended.

Do You Love Literature?

Maureen Wittmann does.

And, she's written a book about how to teach core subjects with literature. For the Love of Literature, which Maureen humbly calls "a glorified booklist" is the result of a great deal of research. It includes about 950 titles, sorted by subject with age recommendations (including books for high-schoolers.)

I'll take that kind of "glorified booklist" and learn from it, thank you very much.

I'm a booklist junkie, and I'm adding this one to our library.

Visit Maureen here for details on a great prepublication discount that her publisher, Ecce Homo Press, is currently offering.

Hop a train for Charlotte's Library

and join her for the September Carnival of Children's Literature!

Thank you, Charlotte, for hosting, and for rounding up so many great links. The theme this month is "Take a Ride on the Reading Railroad." It promises to be a grand trip.

Carnival of Children's Literature

I have nothing to say today!
I'm sending you away. Again!
Go!
Enjoy the Carnival of Children's Literature.

I mean it, buddy.

More WWII Picture Books

The Bracelet by Yoshiko Uchida, and illustrated by Joanna Yardley, is a simple but affecting book about one little girl's reaction to an internment camp. Before she and her family are taken away, seven-year-old Emi is visited by her best friend, who gives her a bracelet as a memento of their friendship. The fate of the bracelet is tied to Emi's understanding of what she can and cannot hold on to for the duration of the war. A good introductory picture book on the subject of Japanese-American internment camps and their effects on those who were imprisoned.

Baseball Saved Us by Ken Mochizuki, illustrated by Dom Lee, is also good as an introduction to the issue of internment camps. The focus is on one boy's experience of playing baseball while imprisoned, what that does for him later, and how he is motivated and strengthened. The kids cheered at the end of this simple and uplifting book.

We headed back to the Netherlands for The Greatest Skating Raceby Louise Borden (illustrated by Niki Daly) and I think the kids were relieved to leave the oppressiveness of the internment camp books behind (except Anne, who was reading Farewell to Manzanar on her own.) This book was delightful, and reminded us of our favorite van Stockum books, as well as of the resourceful kids in Snow Treasure. Ten-year-old Piet must help two young friends skate to freedom in Belgium. In the process, he realizes that an enormous personal dream is within his grasp. A great read.

The Yellow Star, The Legend of King Christian X by Carmen Agra Deedy and Henri Sorensen, is another uplifting, and gorgeously illustrated book. This one has received several negative reviews, because it is not an historically accurate work. In reality, King Christian of Denmark did not don a yellow star and encourage all of his subjects to do so, as he does in this book. I disagree, however, with the objections to the book on this account, as the author makes it clear that this is a legend. As such, it was fuel for a great discussion about what legends are and why they spring up. Anne and Betsy were reminded of Lois Lowry's Number the Stars, which depicts King Christian as a greatly loved and respected leader. The Legend of King Christian X left the girls with what I think the author intended: the question, "What if?" What if a leader were really willing to do such a thing? What if I were willing? Am I?

We're stuck in World War II

But we wouldn't have it any other way.

My plans are always bigger than my capabilities. Last summer, I said we would delve into World Wars I and II, and also dip into the medieval period (can one really "dip into" any time period? It's usually just too fascinating to take a dip and then leave.) The girls and I have been immersed in World War II all year long.

Here's a quick review of a recent novel we read. I'll be back later to write about some great picture books we've just finished.

My Friend, the Enemy, by J.B. Cheaney revolves around 12-year-old Hazel Anderson, who lives with her family in the Pacific northwest. Hazel lives in a fantasy world, playing "spy" every chance she gets, hoping to catch "the enemy." But when she meets a real, live Japanese boy her world is changed. 15-year-old Sogoji is in hiding, to avoid being sent to an internment camp.

The plot kept my girls interested, and there were some twists and unknowns that kept them guessing, but overall, this one was not as compelling as the other novels of the time period that we've covered. The prejudice in which Hazel is entrenched at the beginning of the novel is portrayed in a rather heavy-handed way, and the same point could have been made more subtly. And, Hazel's transformation from stereotypical bigotry to open-minded acceptance may have happened a little too quickly. Still, it was worth our time, particularly in terms of the discussion it provoked about racial slurs, prejudicial assumptions and bigotry in general.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with Anne-with-an-e, when she was about three or four years old. We had watched "The Jungle Book" and she was talking about Mowgli.

"Mommy," she said, "Mowgli's skin is kind of brown, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said, "it is."

She was quiet for a moment, and I wondered what had prompted the observation. I asked her, "Do you think it's important ... what color our skin is?"

"No," she said. "It's not weally important. Skin is just something that God sticked on our faces."

Buy your copies NOW

If you have not yet purchased copies of all of Melissa Wiley's books, head straight to Amazon.com, Bn.com, and your local bookstore and scoop up every new copy you can find. Because, soon, you won't be able to find new copies.

Ever again.

Lissa has been letting her readers know that things are changing for our beloved friends, Martha and Charlotte. It's not a pleasant change, either. Being Lissa, she does not harbor any ill will against Harper Collins for their decision to abridge and then reissue her books. She understands that publishers make decisions based on dollars and market trends. And, they must believe this is a savvy decision, from a bottom-line point of view (those are my words, not hers.)

But, this is so very sad.

It's sad from a number of points of view.

I'm sad that someone thinks he can pick up a beautifully crafted novel and simply chop part of it out to fit a length requirement. Isn't that akin to saying, "You need to lose a few pounds ... shall we just take an arm? What about a leg? It's all about the bottom line of what you weigh, isn't it?"

No. Really, it's not. It's about the beauty and complexity of how the thing fits together ... the mind, the limbs, the beating heart. How do we remove one of those vital parts?

And, I'm sad that someone thinks that children deserve "shorter" or "easy to read" or "less complex." Children deserve a quality story, and they deserve as many words and as many pages as it takes to tell that story.

And, I'm sad to know that Lissa won't be the one finishing out the stories of Martha Morse and Charlotte Tucker , whom we have come to know and love even more than Laura, Mary, Ma and Pa. My daughters and I have looked forward to Lissa's new books, ordered them with anticipation, jumped up and down when they arrived, and dug happily into them together. We've grown up, my girls and I, with these books over the last seven years.

With these friends.

I'm heaving a huge sigh here. An episode in our literary life is closing.

And I'm tearing up as I write this, because I'm remembering some correspondence with Lissa from a few years back, during the time when she wrote Across the Puddingstone Dam. She told me that she held in her mind (at least in part -- I'm sure she had other dear children in mind as well) my very sensitive oldest daughter as she wrote certain portions of that book. Something heartwrenching happens in "Puddingstone Dam," and this lovely writer and mother knew that she wanted to portray the episode in a way that was real, and moving, but not so traumatic that highly sensitive young souls couldn't take it.

She succeeded.

And, isn't that the kind of person that you want writing books for your children?

Reread Lissa's words here (especially the last four paragraphs) to understand why buying new books is important. (The only one of her books that is out of print and must be bought used, at this point, is The Road from Roxbury.)

Then head to Amazon. And Bn.com. And your bookstore.

I have full sets of Lissa's books for each of my girls, and I think of them as treasures worth passing on. You won't regret this purchase, I promise.

To our dear Martha and Charlotte ... oh, how we'll miss you.

To our dear, dear Lissa ... we know that you have many more enchanting and inspiring novels in you. And so, although we'll miss our old friends, we will also look forward to meeting and getting to know new ones, to sharing their lives and adventures the same way we shared the beauty of Little House ... no matter how many words, no matter how many pages ... no matter how long it takes to tell their stories.

StudiObrien

I am hopelessly attached to Michael O'Brien's books.

His Father Elijah was the first I read, about nine years ago. I became a zealous fan, pushing it on everyone I know. I've since read all of his novels (and have reread most of them several times) and I've loved each one of them (though they are not all in the style or genre of Father Elijah.) I'm always saddened to reach the end of his books ... I don't like having to put him away on the shelf. I miss him when I'm between books.

He's a gifted writer and artist, (be sure to take a look at the Byzantine page ... it's exquisite), and if you haven't yet visited his website, StudiObrien, you're in for a feast.

Plan to linger with a cup of coffee.

Ramona's Picture Books This Week

Gennady Spirin's A Apple Pie is an elegant alphabet book. Yes, elegant ... the illustrations by Gennady Spirin, which accompany this traditional 17th century rhyme, are beautiful, as is all of Spirin's work.

And, not only did Ramona enjoy the detail and whimsical word choices on each page, Anne and Betsy enjoyed the beautiful script and the mini-history lesson about the alphabet. An afterword tells us that in the 17th century, "I" and "J" were used interchangeably, so there was not a separate page for "I" (although this book does include one ... "Inspect the apple pie.") This book goes on the "acquire a copy" list.

Ramona's other favorites this week:


I Loved You Before You Were Born, by Anne Bowen, is the sweet story of a grandmother who anticipates and plans for the birth of her grandchild, expressing her overwhelming love with the title phrase.




A Visit to the Zoo is a fairly typical photos-from-a-zoo book, but Ramona loves it. Anything with photos of animals? She's there. Plus, she has so much fun typing the word "zoo" into the computer at the library. So, we always search for the word "zoo" and always come home from the library with a zoo book or two or three.



Demi's Mary is an astoundingly beautiful book. But then, everything Demi illustrates is astoundingly beautiful. To see such love and care applied to a children's book about our Blessed Mother does one's heart good.

Home of the Brave

I don't usually use words such as "sad, dark and haunting" to describe a picture book. But Allen Say's Home of the Brave deals with a sad, dark and haunting time in our country's history.

The book tells -- in beautifully rendered symbols, images and dreamlike sequences -- of a Japanese internment camp. A man, seemingly caught in a nightmare, encounters an abandoned camp and children who chant, "Take us home, take us home!" This was perhaps the most affecting image for me ... the children, and their sense of abandonment and desolation.

My girls were somber as we read. We had talked a little bit about what the camps were, but this was their first literary encounter with them. We talked a bit afterward about prejudice, discrimination, and even about current debates over racial profiling.

Home of the Brave is not a happy book, but it's an excellent one. I can't say I'm happy we read it, but I think it was important for us to do so.

It will be remembered.