goods and heroes

the gift of reading

I am thrilled to report that were almost as many books as toys under the tree this year. Sam alone received 10 or so and he paused on each one to peek in and read just a bit. (Towards the end of the opening of presents, Ben wasn't quite so enamored and refused to open any "flat" presents. Oh well, maybe next year.) 

I was quite the lucky gal in the book-receiving department. So I thought I'd share with you what I happily scored as well as one that I bought for the entire family. 

I got this book from my lovely friend and consummate gift giver, Sarah.

She got it at the New York Historical Society on a recent trip to the Big Apple. It's a wonderful reproduction of an instructional book for children. The original text on the back states, "The amusement of finding objects and their parts will continue long after the ordinary story book has lost all charm." And it goes on to state quite practically, "It will instruct youth and even adults the correct names of many common objects." 

Yes indeed, and I even learned a few new words for old things that might not be so common now, like "shawl-strap" and "cuspidore." They are in the picture above, um, somewhere. I could see creating stories by looking at all the objects -- I am going to try that out with Sam and Ben. 

Speaking of children's books, Ted gave me two. Not necessarily to read to the boys but just because I love children's books, especially old ones. Right before Christmas we had a nice breakfast with Grandma Franny & then all of us headed over to Open Books. If you haven't been, you should go. It's a non-profit used bookstore and they have tons of books and a rocking children's section. Apparently when I was in another section Ted got me this one. 

I love the illustrations . . .

He also got me this wee little book, illustrated by Maurice Sendak. 

It's about a naughty little sister who goes into her older sister's room and plays with her things and draws on the walls. Hmmmm, I know someone who used to do that sort of thing. The illustrations are totally classic Sendak. And it has a happy ending. 

Ted also gave me this book, which is a companion to my other book Our Plant Friends & Foes by the fomidably named William Atherton DuPuy. (Which I got up at the Armadillo's Pillow used bookstore in Rogers Park last summer, another fine used bookstore here in the city). Anyone who knows me knows that I have a soft spot (or maybe a it's becoming a problem) for old nature-based books. Especially those geared toward children. I just learned that Mr. DuPuy also wrote Our Insect Friends & Foes, might have to put that one on my wish list. 

It was illustrated by  Edward Herbert Miner, "Animal Painter to the National Geographic Society." Check it out . . . so beautiful.

In the Christmas box that my father sent, he included a copy of "Beyond the Perf" which is a magazine out out by the US Postal Service. So techincally this isn't a book, but it provided me with lots of quiet, geeked-out stamp-loving pleasure on Christmas afternoon after all the presents had been opened and the floor was littered with scraps of wrapping paper. It avaliable on-line as well, so if you like reading the stories of how stamps come to be and who designs them, dive in here. 

Since 2011 was the year that I fell in love with stamps old and new and re-kindled my long love affair with the glorious machine we call a typewriter, I'd have to say this was my numero uno stamp in 2011.  I read all about its designer in the magazine, you can read about it here. 

And finally, since the spirit of this post is how books bring so much satisfaction and joy, I am going to end with this little red book that I purchased a few nights into Hanukah. 

As a family that celebrates both Christmas and Hanukah and is sometimes sort of torn on how we do that with grace and humor, The Latke That Couldn't Stop Screaming was just what we needed. It is kind of dark but also tear-inducing hysterical. I love the little latke . . .

and the boys (including Ted) loved collectively screaming "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh." 

It has a surprise ending too, well, two of them actually. But I can't tell you, you'll have to read it yourself. 

I hope you received some deliciously good books for the holidays and that you've had a bit of time to curl up with them. Here's a toast to lots of reading in 2012. Cheers!

 

 

up

We had an event for toddlers in the garden on Tuesday evening. It was a gorgeous evening, just perfect. Blue sky, light winds and no mosquitoes to speak of. While Shana was singing and the little guys were shaking their maracas and wiggling their hips, I looked up and saw a huge grouping of birds alighting right above us. Swooping and dipping but staying together in this ballet-like formation. That was enough to take my breath away. Shana saw me looking up and so she looked up. And since Shana the very cool singer with the awesome guitar was looking up, all the kids looked up. And then their parents looked up. And everyone was quiet for a few seconds. And then there was a chorus of "Birds, birdies, birds, look!" So Shana started singing a sing about birds.

And if that wasn't enough magic for a Tuesday evening, I looked up again and noticed they were playing with or chasing a Peregrine Falcon.

What I learned: remember to look up and sometimes even look up twice. You never know what you'll see.

delicious (summer) reading

I am very much out of the loop when it comes to new writing, whether it be fiction, non, memoir, whatever. It's not that I don't get to the bookstore -- I would say that Sam, Ben and I find ourselves over at our local bookshop, Women and Children First, at least once a week and even more often when the weather is crappy (too cold, too hot) or when we just feel like it. But usually I am reading Sam books that he wants to explore. So I can tell you all about the new-ish Nancy Drew graphic novel series, or any of the outrageous adventures of Captain Underpants . . . but the latest work of fiction by some young wunderkind? Sorry. And another problem is I am just too darn cheap to pay for hard-bound books. I just can't and won't. 

But on the 4th of July we were wandering around St. Joseph, Michigan and Sam wanted to duck into a sweet little (and hurrah, independent!) bookstore. I followed him in, he was waffling between a book about Transformers and a book about earthquakes,when I saw a paperback book with a title that quickly caught my eye: Eat. Pray. Love. Ted and Ben were waiting outside and I knew we needed to get back on the road soon so I very, very impulsively grabbed the book and went up to the counter and paid for it and the Transformers book. (Which I tried not to audibly groan about, knowing I'd be reading it over and over again for the next two weeks or so.)

I cracked my new book open later that night and for the first time in quite a while, I actually pushed sleep aside for an extra hour just so that I could continue reading it. It's a memoir and I never thought I'd be the kind of reader to be so easily seduced into that genre. But this Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote it, she can write. She can be both bold and terrified and she talks about God in a way that doesn't make me wince or skip the pages. And she likes to eat. I think this might have been a book that lots of people were buzzing about last year, but hey, I'm a little slow when it comes to certain things. I mean, I just read Sense and Sensibility last year. And devoured it and all its deliciousness. Anyhow, I am just loving reading this. I am almost finished and just a tiny bit sad that soon it will be over. I find it lovely and satisfying that a bunch of pages with words running across them can still have that kind of effect on me. Aren't books amazing?

Hmmmm, I wonder what I'll read next?

delicious reading

When we were in New York a few weekends ago, I managed to duck into the tiny but mighty Kitchen Arts and Letters, a bookstore that only sells new and used books related to food and wine, about 10 minutes before they were closing. (I had apparently lingered over my crazy exquisite tart just a little too long at Payard . . . )

For the last few years I have been meaning to buy this book called "The Unprejudiced Palate" which was written in 1948 by Angelo Pellegrini. I thought it was only available is a used, hard-bound edition and I'd meant to search for it on-line, but I kept forgetting to. So when I found myself there at KA&L sort of panting with the pressure to find something quick, I asked about Pellegrini's book. The guy behind the counter said, "Oh that's a good one and now it's been reissued in paperback." Bingo! Kismet! Hoorah!

   

So this is what I have been cozying up with the last week or so before going to bed. Thus far it's a memoir meets call-to-action that is anything but unprejudiced (in a kick-ass John Fante-esque way) about how Americans (mainly housewives) need to get back to simple but true ingredients and slowing down to enjoy meals with family and friends.  And we thought this farm-to-table organic/seasonal, SLOW Food thing was a relatively recent trend!

He has shared lots of tales of being an Italian immigrant boy coming to America--marvelling at the abundance (pancakes, eggs and bacon!), recoiling at the waste and the spongey white bread that stuck to his teeth. Last night I read a chapter where he profiles these two Italian guys who own a sewer dredging business in Washington, who at 70+ still happily put in 12 hour days (even they both can afford not to) and then would go home and tend to these massive gardens, filled with peppers and arugula and beans and tomatoes.

I am thoroughly eating up his bold humor and his lack of over-romanticizing the old world ways he's so fond of.

Anyhow, enough for my spontaneous book review . . .  sigh. I am so thrilled I made it to Kitchen Arts & Letters just in the nick of time. And I have to say that a food-oriented bookshop strikes me as a lovely place to be. Next time I'll make sure I have ample time to really hang out and explore.

red, white and black

Old books, sigh. Especially dear are old children's books and old science or nature books. But I'll check out any old book and potentially fall in love with it, whether it be a goofy 1940s travel book or a cookbook or a book on how to raise children.

Not such a good (or bad) habit to have seeing how I'm living in a smallish apartment with my wonderful writer husband who sometimes thinks that filling every inch of wallspace up with books is a perfectly fine way of "decorating" the space we inhabit. And a three year-old who collects toys like a frog catches flies.

Anyhow, here's my latest find, I scored this at a bookstore down in Mobile, Alabama a few months back. It is from 1930. I have spent several nights sitting in a cozy corner with the lights low, flipping through the pages and just loving the design, the lettering, the colors and the spirit of this book.

I love the owls! The giddy North American focus. The No. 1 ribbon (covering S.A., hey, it's Big John Martin, no need to bother with other lands). And when you peek inside--I am already itching for spring, so this is quite germaine these days.

I think these freaky rabbits and "pricker-stickers" were the precursors to the "warm fuzzies and cold pricklies" that they told us about in elementary school again and again. Does anyone else remember those or was I just part of some crazy California focus-group?

So be good. And groove on with this black, red and well, cream color thing going on.

And stay dry!