Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Do Three Good Things At Once

Anyone who has accompanied me on any part of my writing journey knows that, when it comes to book marketing and sales, I'm rather soft in my approach.

That's going to change a bit over the next few weeks. And then I'll return to soft.

I'm running a special BryonySeries holiday book sale in conjunction with The Book Market in Crest Hill. I wrote why I created this special sale yesterday.

But by participating, you will do three good things at once.

1) You will have an opportunity to try out a piece of my fiction by purchasing a book.

2) You will help out an independently owned and operated bookstore during this COVID pandemic.

3) If you give away my book, or if you give away the store credit you earn with the purchase, you will also promote the cause of literacy.


Thank you for considering a purchase and for reading this blog.



Photo by Timothy Baran



Tuesday, November 12, 2019

Even as a Child: The Psychology of "Little Women"

Last August when I was in Raleigh and my daughters, mother, and I spent a day in Cameron Village, I purchased this book: "Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy: The Story of Little Women and Why It Still Matters" by Anne Boyd Rioux, which I pretty much read before I returned to Joliet.

I first read the book at age eight, an old book with crumbling pages between a hard orange cover that had been my mother's. I fell in love with the story and read more of Alcott's works.

I adored An Old-Fashioned Girl, also my mother's. Eight Cousins, borrowed from the library at St. Bernard's Catholic School in Joliet (which no longer stands), was boring, although I attempted a reading of it several times because I liked the cover and Alcott.

By the time I'd read Little Women, I already knew I wanted to be a writer "when I grew up," so Jo's aspirations and activities felt natural to me, even though she wasn't my favorite character.

The characters. That's the point of this blog.

It was not a book I could discuss with my friends as none of them knew what Little Women was. In fact, I have never had a discussion of this book with anyone, although I'm sure some of the people I now know have most likely read it.

I have also never watched a movie adaption. I tried the one with June Allyson, but it was so boring, I never finished it.

Long before I wrote an entire novel, or took a psychology class with the dynamic Sister Mary George when I attended Providence High School in New Lenox, I instinctively understood the multi-layered elements of building realistic characters.

As a child, I understood even adults were more than the exteriors I saw as a child.

So at family parties, I could have been no more than nine, I would approach the adult women and ask them if they had read Little Women. Nearly all of them had.

And then I would ask them which was their favorite character and why. Most were taken aback; all of them answered.

Their responses gave me insight into who they were as people.

Even as books such as Rioux's gives me insight into how Alcott built a story that endured.

For writers cannot write in a vacuum. Every idea comes from somewhere, and that somewhere is usually experience, even if only a strand of experience is pulled from one's life before twisted into a new purpose.

I'm sure many writers would want Alcott's legacy.

But anyone who knows Alcott's backstory would know that Little Women was, most likely, not the type of story she wanted to last beyond her.

It's not easy being a writer even into perpetuity.











Monday, July 22, 2019

"Middle School Reading Lists 100 Years Ago vs. Today:" A Response

Last week on Facebook, I posted a link to a 2016 article called "Middle School Reading Lists 100 Years Ago vs. Today."

Here is the link: bit.ly/30PU5Br.

Although some of the Facebook comments supported classic reading material, most felt classic was boring or irrelevant and felt modern works were best for modern young readers,

Back in our homeschooling days (I'm talking about me and my six children), we read a large variety of material.

In fact, although reading was my main occupation as a child, those two and a half decades of homeschooling were incredibly rich for me, too, in terms of reading material, in volume, variety, and enjoyment, so much that I'll never experience anything like it again.

Although we read nothing on List Two of the 2016 article, we did read Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longellow and we did read Treasure Island by Robert Lewis Stevenson.

And although we did not read the rest of the exact selections cited on List One, we did read other works by Rudyard Kipling, Washington Irving, Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, and Nathaniel Hawthorne.

On the other hand, we had a unique approach to reading these works, which would be hard to replicate in a classroom. And all six adult kids still love reading today.

Here's what we did.

1) We steeped our lives in reading.

By the time a baby showed interest in a board book, we spent about an hour a day in reading, although not all at once, perhaps fifteen minutes scattered throughout the day. Until the child could read, I did the reading. And we always read at bedtime.

We also read at meals. The kids brought books to the breakfast table. During lunch, I would read a chapter at a time from a book we normally would not read on our own. This is how we got through titles such as Treasure Island (twice, in fact), The Wind in the Willows, Mrs. Mike, and The Mysterious Island (to name a few). One chapter and no more. This gave us time for discussion and to anticipate the next day's chapter. The kids also got to hear how reading should "sound."

For the record, we never finished Pride and Prejudice, although we did try really hard. But the writing made us squirm in irritation until we finally dumped the book and moved on.

We also couldn't "get into" Tom Sawyer. But that was just us.

During dinner, we had several books at the table: Bibles, church history, lives of the saints, a bit of catechism. We read and talked together (in ways many would find irreverent, but kids process things differently than adults, and I gave them the freedom to do so), and dinner could last a couple hours.

All this reading was over and above the "fun" reading, and reading that was part of our curriculum.

One th flip side, the kids were also terrible at remembering where they set library books (or where a sibling who swiped the books to read, too, had placed them) and returning books on time. Their library fines could be staggerings.

Side note: the kids paid their own fines, especially once we lived in Channahon, and the library was a couple blocks away. The only time they did not was if the book was borrowed from a library a distance from the house, and I was did not drive them there before the book was due.

2) We read a variety of literature - and we were free not to like it.

We're grateful to Abeka for their outstanding selections, for they assembled many happy hours of reading in their "readers" (which went through twelfth grade), along with stories the kids still pick up to re-read.

Although we did not like every selection, we did read them all, and we did not have to like them. I remember Markheim by Robert Lewis Stevenson being a dreadful read until I read it for the last time. Somewhere in the six reads (once with each child), I'd developed a grudging appreciation for it.

I approached many selections with "I'm sure I won't like this," only to find I did like it. I had never read Sherlock Holmes and was fairly certain the stories would be dull (they weren't). We read folk tales, and poetry, and many of the books also included a huge variety of art (one illustration of a hare is truly creepy).

I think what gave my kids an open-minded approach to the stories is that we read them together. I never handed them an intimidating book and said, "Go read it," while I did something else.

We sat together at the table, or lay across the living room carpet, and we read together, usually just for fifteen minutes at a time, four days a week. We read each paragraph aloud, in alternating paragraphs, which meant sometimes one person would get a line, and the next might get a paragraph that stretched for half a page.

We shared thoughts as we read. If the entire selection didn't resonate with us, we commiserated together. But we also laughed (and sometimes cried) together, or we marveled at certain elements of the characters and story lines. Sometimes one person loved the selection, and the other couldn't wait for it to be done.

Rebekah and I still reference one story, and neither can remember the name, that was so bad, we kept waiting for the author to pull the "Aha!" and make it better. But that never happened. It was horrible, all the way to the end.

We also, usually, skipped the boring questions at the end of the reading.

Along the way, we gained a knowledge and appreciation of an enormous variety of writing styles and subject matter, along with learning about the people who wrote the selections and (perhaps very important for today), the place in time and culture in which they were written, which gave us an extremely wide perspective and provoked many open conversations.

3) Most of the modern stuff was read on our own time.

So, yeah, we didn't lock ourselves in this quaint little alternate world. Both my mother and sister worked as booksellers for many years (the first at Barnes and Noble, the second at Borders) and always gifted my kids with lots of books on birthdays and Christmas.

My mother used her discount to let the kids pick out what they liked ($50 worth for the younger kids, $100 for the older ones). My sister just came with books, sometimes bags of them. Often, she brought titles she had enjoyed (that's how we read Mrs Mike and Fahrenheit 451), with one of them being The Giver (my kids loved it, I loathed it).

My kids introduced me to Foxtrot and Goosebumps; I introduced them to Doonesbury, Tales from the Far Side, and Peanuts.

The read volumes of books with titles I'll never know. I have only read the first Harry Potter and found it to be OK. I tried the second one twice and could  not make it past the second chapter (The kids have offered to summarize it for me so I can read the rest. Maybe someday).

I have never read Pendragon (yet).

We have memories and inside jokes and taglines that will last forever.

BTW, Daniel recently came home with a DVD of the last Peanuts movie. We all watched it (and loved it together).





Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."










Monday, November 12, 2018

Why Do Books Have to Be Page-Turners?

Some of my most favorite books are slow, almost plodding, reads.

Ruth M. Arthur's A Candle in Her Room comes to mind. So does the Laura Ingalls Wilder series. And Gone with the Wind. And The Three Musketeers. And Jane Eyre. And Dracula.

They're the type of stories that, instead of racing to the end of the book to see what happens, entice you to read even more slowly so as to prolong the experience. The ending, when it does happen, happens too quickly.

It appears those types of "I want to live in this world and never leave" type of stories are out of fashion. 

When did we lose this? Or does no one like a slow immersion anymore?





Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage." Follow him at www.facebook.com/artbymattcoundiff