Harper: She’s re-reading the Harry Potter series. Some nights, while we are waiting for Hadley to come home from soccer, she’ll read to me and I don’t mind that one bit. Harper says her favorite book in the series is the 7th one. She tells me, with a smile, she loves the battle at Hogwarts when everyone comes together to fight.
She’s also reading Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan, which is historical fiction, I believe. Harper says I need to read it, so I’ll add it to my list.
Hadley: Since third grade, Hadley’s been on a Percy Jackson kick. These are her go-to reads, and there seem to be as many as the Magic Treehouse books, so she’s always got an eye out for the next one. I’m pretty sure Hadley knows more about Greek and Roman mythology than any of us in the family combined.
She’s reading The Giver in school, and we’re having some interesting conversations about it. She told me one night it freaks her out how everyone has an assignment to be or do something, and nobody can change it or try anything else. “It’s like everyone has a number,” she told me reaching for my hand one night after she was tucked into her loft and I stood below her, reaching back. “And that means something something. Like, it defines you.”
Hadley’s comments pointed to something I couldn’t articulate but has made me grumpy recently regarding conversations around personality tests: there’s something unsettling about being sure of who I am. It’s as though the thrill of the hunt is gone and now I’m stuck with myself. I want Hadley to find herself in Jonah, or the Giver. I want her to find herself in Percy Jackson, or Hermione and Ron; Harry and Snape. I want Hadley to always look out for something about herself she didn’t know before.
Hadley’s also trying to read The Hobbit. Her interest was peaked when her English teacher read an excerpt of it in class. “Mom,” she said one Friday night, “do you think I can handle The Hobbit?”
“Sure,” I said. “Give it a try.”
The only copy we had was the one I used to teach with.
“All my notes are in it,” I said, handing it to her.
“Oh, that’s great. They’ll help me!” she said, clicking on her flashlight.
I hope so. I hope she finds herself in Gandolf, or maybe even Gollum or the dragon, and then I want her to find herself again in Mr. Baggins after she’s fought for a time and turned what was weak or evil into strength and love.
Me: Finished, but didn’t love Mudbound. It’s endorsed by Barbara Kingsolver, so I’m sure my opinion of the book is wrong. I have some thoughts bumping around in my head having to do with my job, this story, Homegoing, and The Hate You Give (two books I think are fantastic), so maybe an apologetic essay having to do with these three stories will make it’s way into the world.
Finished and will forever be haunted by Fates and Furies. Creative people are the absolute pits, aren’t we?
There are two magazine at the bottom of that stack: Martha Stewart’s Living, and InStyle. Jesse rolls his eyes when I say it, but I adore Martha Stewart. He thinks I am fascinated by the story she presents about herself, and maybe that’s true, but there’s something about her that makes me believe I can be anything or anyone I want to be. Her calendar at the beginning of her magazine is my favorite part to look at. I look at it every month with delight thinking that, if I wanted to, I could be more like her: organized, handy, a good cook. I could mend things, grow things, nail and sew things. There’s something pleasant about thinking I could be something I am not.
Which is probably why I still subscribe to InStyle. I look through those pages hoping to see what the 40 year olds are doing and wearing. How do they wear their hair? Is it colored? What are they wearing? Do I like it? All I see are women I am not, and I am realizing I’ve looked to others to show me how to be, how to act, what to wear. I think this vacancy I feel about style, career, hair, image, means it’s time for me to define the 40s for myself. I wonder if I can do that.
Almost finished with: The Taming of the Queen. Philippa Gregory books are a guilty pleasure for me. I told some friends recently that basically it’s “Drunk History” except you’re reading and not watching TV. I’ve been reading these books for years (maybe they’re my Percy Jackson books), but this is the first time Henry VIII has horrified me. I think it’s because he reminds me of a certain leader whose opinions and treatment of women are also baffling, and haunting, and heartbreaking.
Working my way through Designing Your Life. I’m trying to read one career/habit book every month. I need to find something new to do, and I need to work less so I can write a bit more, but I don’t know what that is, and I don’t know how to go about looking for it. Hoping these kinds of books will help me lay down some ideas and plans.
Latest Read Aloud: First Rule of Punk. We loved it. I recommend it to mothers to read to their daughters, especially those daughters who are about to head off to middle school. It’s a great coming of age story. I love when authors give the parents in the story a narrative, too, and I love when girl/boy relationships are nuanced and not stereotypical.
Picture Book List: Dooby Dooby Moo (funny), Liberty (get it!), The Papberboy (beautiful), Old MacDonald Had An Apartment (delightful and imaginative), Christopher Counting (perfect for Kindergarteners), I Will Never Not Ever Eat A Tomato (cute, but my kids would never fall for this story no matter what age they are). Best picture book this month: Fireboat. Fantastic story, and excellent example of how Creative Nonfiction works.
Thank you for all these recs. For the thoughts on personality tests and Fates ans Furies: we must talk about these in person.
Oh the Giver.. I loved teaching that book.. We would always have such interesting discussions when they got to the part about the babies who were released.
I had mud bound on my list.. but I will have to relook at it.
Lily is reading Ellie McDoodle and Dylan is reading weird stories. Lily read Snow Treasure last month and enjoyed it.. It sparked a lot of great conversations too.
These are my favorite lists, always. Lists of books.
I love that Hadley knows your notes will help her with the story. Our middle school teacher read The Hobbit aloud to us and I don’t remember the book so much as the feeling of sitting in that classroom and listening to her read all those strange words as she – a petite, brunette with oval wire-rimmed glassed – sat cross-legged on top of an empty desk and read to us each week. Funny how those details come back to us. Books are almost always involved in those kinds of memories for me.