Recommended Reading

As a children’s librarian, my heart beat a little bit faster when Sara Pennypacker’s newest Clementine book, Clementine’s Letter, arrived at the library. I knew I’d have to wait my turn to borrow a copy, but I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it!

Eight-year-old Clementine lives in an apartment building in Boston, with her artist mom, her building superintendent dad, and her baby brother (who she calls different vegetable names because he wasn’t lucky enough to be named for a fruit like Clementine!). And just like the springy red curls on her head, Clementine is always bursting with ideas, whether to give her next door neighbor Margaret a new haircut or to rid her building of pigeons in the Great Pigeon War.

In this third installment in the series, Clementine discovers that her beloved teacher, Mr. D’Matz may be leaving the class to do a research project in Egypt. Clementine is heartbroken at the thought of saying goodbye to her best teacher ever. So when the class is asked to write letters saying why Mr. D’Matz deserves to go to Egypt, Clementine knows that she has to do, for better or for worse…

If you like Ramona Quimby, Junie B. Jones, or Judy Moody, Clementine may be the next spunky girl for you! Click here for more spunky girl book recommendations (PDF) from the Mulberry Street Library.

Bloc-notes. Officially, that’s French for blog. But like those other tech nouns that have also become verbs (to google, to xerox…), I’m not sure how “to blog” translates en Français.

I still have people asking for the book Comment Parler Des Livres Que L'on N'a Pas Lus? Actually they ask for the English version. Like many of the books I enthusiastically recommend, I have yet to read it. It is part of an ever-growing list. That list is called The Ever-Growing List of Soon-To-Be-Read Books. The fact that I haven’t read a book certainly doesn’t stop me from talking about it, recommending it, or blogging about it. I read all the major review sources, I listen to the opinions of library users and coworkers, and I try to keep up with my List. When titles come up in discussion, I sometimes say “Oh yeah, that one is my List” and sometimes I say “Oh, you have to read that one!”

The Man Booker Dozen has just been announced, adding twelve more titles to my List.

The White Tiger, by Aravind Adiga
Girl in a Blue Dress, by Gaynor Arnold
The Secret Scripture, by Sebastian Berry
From A to X, by John Berger
The Lost Dog, by Michelle de Kretser
Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh
The Clothes on Their Backs, by Linda Grant
A Case of Exploding Mangoes, by Mohammed Hanif
The Northern Clemency, by Philip Hensher
Netherland, by Joseph O’Neill
The Enchantress of Florence, by Salman Rushdie
Child 44, by Tom Rob Smith
A Fraction of the Whole, by Steve Toltz

Some of these (Netherland, Enchantress of Florence) were obvious choices. I can’t wait to read Berger’s new one, due out in September. His About Looking and Ways of Seeing are two favorites of mine that I am constantly revisiting. I was surprised to see Child 44 on the list. From what I’ve heard it’s a very compelling read but definitely in the category of “airport fiction” and not “literary fiction”. Maybe it does transcend genres though. I’ll let you know once it gets to the top of my List. The Man Booker shortlist will be announced September 9th and the winner on October 14th.

Right now I’m 100+ pages into The Outlander, by Gil Adamson. Rather than give any in-depth plot summary, I offer you the first paragraph:

"It was night, and the dogs came through the trees, unleashed and howling. They burst from the cover of the woods and their shadows swam across a moonlit field. For a moment, it was as if her scent had torn like a cobweb and blown on the wind, shreds of it here and there, useless. The dogs faltered and broke apart, yearning. Walking now, stiff-legged, they ploughed the grass with their heavy snouts.”

Set in 1903, it’s about a female on the run. You know right away why she’s running but you don’t known all the details so you get hooked right away into wanting to find out what exactly happened. Adamson’s debut novel has been compared to Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain (sorry, not a selling point for me) and the early work of Cormac McCarthy (SOLD!). Vendela Vida and Jim Harrison offer kind words on the back cover, and I’d bump titles from the bottom of my Soon-To-Be-Read list to the top based on their opinions. I have yet to reach the end, but the beautiful writing alone justifies picking the book up, or bumping it towards the top of your own Soon-To-Be-Read List.

You know, there still seems to be that puzzling question among some members of the general public regarding what we librarians do beyond the traditional stereotypes. I mean, how many times have you been asked, “You went to school for this?” My stock response: “Well, it’s not rocket science, it’s library science!” Yes, librarians today do much more than sshhh people and locate books, but really when it comes down to it there is probably no aspect of librarianship more satisfying than the simple act of connecting people with good books.

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Do not set foot in my office. That’s dad’s rule. But the phone’d rung twenty-five times. So I went in. But the person on the other end didn’t answer.

The last six steps I took in one death-defying bound. We crossed the crossroads by Black Swan and went into the woods. The lake in the woods was epic. Granddad’s Omega’d never once gone wrong in four decades. In less than a fortnight, I’d killed it.

Powdery moonlight lit the attic room through the snowflake-lace curtain.
Her windpipe bulges as her soul squeezes out of her heart.
A silent roaring hangs here.
Not going anywhere.

It doesn’t happen too often, but there are some books that fall into the category known as “books I cannot read on the subway.”

More often then not these are books that make me laugh out loud, or at the very least give me watering eyes and one of those uncontrollable grins that can’t be wiped off my face. I get very subconscious and don’t want people on the subway car staring at me wondering “Is he laughing or crying?” or “Why does he have a big silly grin on his face?” or “He’s crazy.”

One of the books in this category was Jonathan Lethem’s, Motherless Brooklyn, where my fits of laughter were similar to the main character’s comical Tourette’s Syndrome outbursts. I started that book on the subway but had to finish it in the confines of my own home. Another writer whose work I can no longer enjoy during my commute to and from work is George Saunders.

David Sedaris’ entire body of work fits into this category. I recently flew to Colorado and in the Dallas airport I bought his new collection of essays When You Are Engulfed in Flames. I read the first few on the plane and had to put the book away when the flight attendant asked if I was ok. I challenge anyone to read his description of using a Stadium Pal while keeping a straight face.

They say laughter is the best medicine. David Sedaris is an overdose. I finished his book on the privacy of a porch with Pikes Peak in the distance, tears running down my face, my laughter echoing in the valley.