4 posts tagged “books”
Yesterday Zoe came home from school with her loot from the treasure box (that she visits weekly because she knows how to be a good girl at school).
A mood ring.
I heard her tell Rae, "It's a mood ring, I check it to see what my attitude is."
And then with this melancholy-like voice, "See, right now I'm very happy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I recently finished this-
I enjoyed The Pigman, it was written for the Junior High aged, which is right up my alley. One of my main reasons is because of the language, have I even mentioned how much I dislike bad words?
In the back of the book there is an interview with Paul Zindel.
The question- In The Pigman , you use symbols, such as "%*$#", in place of four-letter words. Was that your original intent or did the publisher encourage you to avoid using controversial language?
His answer- I had to do what was comfortable for me, and I just felt that cursing- now I feel it more than ever- isn't really necessary. There is a difference between the written words and spoken words. I know curse words are thrown all around in kids' mouths, but such words don't help create a novel or a play. The type of language that has the highest literary merit does not happen to include massive amounts of curses...
Thank you Mr Zindel! Can you convince your fellow book writers of that??
The story is told of two high school students making friends with an elderly man. It is told from the youth's prespective and they take turns writing their story of Mr Pignati, aka The Pigman. Lorraine writing one chapter, John the next, until their story is told.
When I first started reading this book I thought it was recently published, but it didn't take long for me to notice otherwise and I checked- 1968. As this paragragh I am about to share will show clearly. But I really like this paragragh..... from The Pigman
...this English teacher I'm going to tell you about.....says I'm such a card. A card she calls me, which sounds ridiculous coming out of the mouth of an old-maid English teacher who's practically fifty years old. I really hate it when a teacher has to show that she isn't behind the times by using some expression which sounds so up-to-date you know for sure she's behind the times. Besides, card really isn't up-to-date anymore, which makes it even more annoying. In fact, the thing Lorraine and I liked best about the Pigman was that he didn't go around saying we were cards or jazzy or cool or hip. He said we were delightful, and if there's one way to show how much your're not trying to make believe your're not hehind the times, it's to go around saying people are delightful.
Ever notice when you read a book that you start talking like they do in the book? Or at least you want to, or your thoughts to yourself have their accent?
Like last night I asked Gary, "Wanna head on into town and get some o' that fruit pie for Fam'bly Home Evenin'?
And I can't wait to have the oppurtunity to say someone was "squatin' on their hams". All throughtout The Grapes of Wrath, people squat, and what are they squatin' on? Their hams. I love that. And the men were constantly squatting on their hams in the book.
Then there are the times they added a T where it doesn't belong- acrost (for across) (people STILL say acrost), oncect (once), chancet (chance).
Yet they also leave out letters in so many other words, ol' (old), an' (and), 'f (if), ever' (every) (which Gary likes to pronounce it that way, being silly), and jus' (just). Jus' to name a few. ;-)
They's jus' a addin' and a takin' away where's they wanna.
I could get use' to it.
I would like to share this paragraph from The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. It's one of my very favorites from the book. It's the decription of Ma-
Tom stood looking in. Ma was heavy, but not fat; thick with childbearing and work. She wore a loose Mother Hubbard of gray cloth in which there had one been colored flowers, but the color was washed out now, so that the small flowered pattern was only a little lighter gray than the background. The dress came down to her ankles, and her strong broad bare feet moved quickly and deftly over the floor. Her thin steel-gray hair was gathered in a sparse wispy knot at the back of her head. Strong, freckled arms were bare to the elbow, and her hands were chubby and delecate, like those of a plump little girl. She looked out into the sunshine. Her full face was not soft; it was controlled, kindly. Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and a superhuman understanding. She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family, the strong place that could not be taken. And since old Tom and the children could not know hurt or fear unless she acknowledged hurt or fear, she had practiced denying them in herself. And since , when a joyful thing happened, they looked to see whether joy was in her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials. But better than joy was calm. Imperturbability could be depended upon. And from her great and humble position in the family she had taken dignity and a clean calm beauty. From her position as a healer, her hands had grown sure and cool and quiet; from her position as arbiter she had become as remote and faultless in judgement as a goddess. She seemed to know that if she swayed the family shook, and if she ever really deeply wavered or despaired the family would fall, the family will to function would be gone.
I have many thoughts on that one paragragh as a mother, but I am going to keep it short- I want to be Ma.
My Ma is pretty much that Ma, freckled arms and all.
I want to be Ma.
What she is (even though a character) is what all Ma's ought to be-
The citadel of the fam'bly.
Today, after a few tears or more, and after talking to people who love me (Gary who never calls me from work during the day so thank goodness he had a feeling and acted upon it and my Dad and Shaw) I would like to rewrite yesterdays post.
Let's have a do-over. Okay?
First off, let's leave out the "Life is very whatever amount hard"- because by golly, that goes without saying. I don't need to tell anyone that, you all already know that it can be at times.
Just call me 'Captain Obvious, Protector of Things Already Known'.
But what you may not know about is this gem of a book-
I loved this book and if you think you've read enough stories about the Holocaust I can promise you, you haven't read enough until you've read this one.
This story is told by a young boy who does not know his age, his name or who his parents are. He lives on the streets and believes his name is Stopthief because that is what he hears everytime he gets his food. But he doesn't just take food for himself, he also takes and delivers to orphan's. And he feels so blessed that at least he's not an orphan. He's young and innocent and postive. The author of this book, Jerry Spinelli, takes a devastating time and setting and yet tells a tale of hope fabulously.
It also had me at the first paragraph. Unlike The Grapes of Wrath, which I am trying to read now. And not only is it slower (and not really my kind of writing style) but I swear it, the book has this dry squeek thing going when I turn the pages that totally give me the heebie-jeebies. Gary said I shouldn't share that with anyone though, that I should keep this one to myself, lest people start thinking I'm crazy. Besides (said he), the book is about the Great Depression and a drought, the drought, as in the Dust Bowl, so if the book really is dry (and squeeky), it's fitting.
Anyways, I would also like to share these photo's- (because, remember? I'm doing a 'do-over')
Poor Zoe.
The only child of mine who has no younger siblings, who never got to be the big sister to a baby, so she has to resort to making a kitty a baby.
He comes with a snotty nose (all. the. time.) so that should make it more realistic.
Oh, and wittle baby sister Anitra?
Have you had that baby yet?
;-)
* Wouldn't do-over's be the coolest in life, if it were as easy as rewriting a blog post?
** Dear Book Club friends, you might wanna start looking for Milkweed.
***I think I prefer books written for young adults over books written for old one's.
****To all mother's, did the question I asked my sister, even though not directed at you, annoy the mess out of you? Why do people do that? And why am I torturing my sister with it.....??
Somtimes life is.....
very very very very very very very very very
very very very very very very very very very
hard.
Therefor this is all I've got today.
You should read it.
And my Zoe-
Thinks the kitty is a baby.
