Sunday 21 September 2014

Bud, not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis and Bamboo People by Mitali Perkins

I love a good list of books to read.  At the back of Donalyn Miller's Reading in the Wild there are a selection of lists of books, divided by genre, which have been popular in her classroom.  I decided to work my way through some of the historical fiction, having not yet had the weak flame of hope that I might get A to actually read some fiction, extinguished from my heart.

I started with Bud, not Buddy. I'm not sure why, as it wasn't at the start of the list.  I might have been sub-consciously drawn to it given that, being an English person between the ages of 19 and 48, I had to read Nigel Hinton's Buddy at school. I was that one that you all hated, the one that actually quite liked it.

Anyway, Bud, not Buddy is actually quite like Buddy in many ways. It's a coming-of-age tale, and there's a lot about music.  It's set in the Great Depression, but that's very much a back-drop, and the story is of a boy's search for his father.  I enjoyed it greatly. Age 9+

It took me longer to get into Bamboo People, as it started off in a very stilted way, as if it really, really wanted to be a history textbook or essay, but had to be a novel instead, much against its will.  It took at least ten chapters to get going, and therefore there is absolutely no chance of A reading it - a book is lucky if it gets ten words before being shoved in the reject pile.  It's about Burma, and is, therefore, pretty grim in places - there being more child soldiers in Burma than anywhere else in the world.  However, it's a wonderful story of hope enduring in desperation.  Age 12+

"But why do you even like reading?"

Oh yes, the start of another school year. Out comes the "this is why reading is so important" speech.  It's always wonderfully well-received - never any eye-rolling, or groaning, or pretend fakey listening whilst actually thinking about Minecraft.

One of the girls this year ventured "I don't get why you would even like reading! Why do you like it?"  I think my response was along the lines of the point of the exercise not being about me and my reading but about her and her reading.  I was tempted to reply "but how can you not like it?", managing to hold it in, because I realise now, after a few decades on earth, that not everyone is exactly like me.

It did make me think though, about what the answer to that question actually is. I've loved reading for as long as I can remember. For me, it's like a safe place inside my head.  There are actual geographical places and times and memories that give me a feeling and safety, security, warmth and happiness.  Walking into the Manor Ground with my Dad and brother, smelling the liniment, and hearing the hum of the (modestly-sized) crowd; sitting in my Mum's old bedroom in my Nan's house doing my homework when I was in the Sixth Form, getting into bed early with a cuppa in my house once the children are all sleeping. I'm sure we all have these memories, these places we can go to.

When I'm reading, there's nothing else to worry about.  A book with a good story takes up all of the corners in my brain that are dedicated to worrying about my health, my family's health, whether I am a good enough wife, mother, daughter and friend, money, work, what time tomorrow I've got to be at the doctor/dentist/random after-school activity for child, whether the baby ought to be saying some words by now, whether the kids ought to spend less time watching Stampy Longnose videos, climate change, why some people do evil things.  Etc.

A good book is a nourishing break for my brain from ALLTHESTUFF. And once you've read the story and it was good, and you've connected with the characters and places, they never really leave you. 

Saturday 13 September 2014

Cleo and Caspar by Stella Blackstone

In Burton Library during the week, we released BabyM from his pushchair/prison so that he could have a look around. Well, I say have a look around, what I mean, of course is pick random bits of fluff/mud/ephemera up, and quickly stuff them into his mouth, then chew.  Also stare at people who looked like they were mildly uncomfortable around babies (why do babies always do this? Do they, like dogs, sense fear?)

I attempted to read the above book to BabyM, but he studiously ignored it, so, in essence, I was reading it to BestMate.  I don't think I've read aloud to BestMate since 1997, when she was treated to my earth-shatteringly poor representation of a French accent, grinding my way through the dreadful Elise ou La Vrai Vie by Claire Etcherelli. I still remember the name of the author, and that it was about a white woman dating a black man in 1960s France.  There was a "usine" involved too, if I remember correctly.

Anyway, I'm pleased to say Cleo and Caspar is a lot better than Elise Ou la Vrai Vie, albeit with a somewhat different target audience.  And in a different language.  It does deal with the theme of difference, and learning to get along in a changing world, however, as it's about a cat and a dog who are both pets in the same household. I was going to attempt a thematic discussion with BabyM, but he was too busy trying to pull bits of mud/goodnessknowswhattrynottothinkaboutit off the buggy wheels, and stuff them into his mouth.

I love Barefoot Books.  They prefer to sell through agents rather than via tax-dodging enterprises, and I've often been tempted to take up the baton.  However, my concern is mainly that I would buy all the books then keep them.  Also, goodness knows how much ephemera BabyM would successfully eat if I were otherwise engaged at toddler groups with the selling of fine literature for infants and children.  Perhaps one day, when he is keener on reading than on crawling off into the distance, spreading chaos as he goes.

Monday 8 September 2014

My Big Book of the Five Senses by Patrick George

"That new book about the senses is a bit easy isn't it?" Well, yes, it's for your baby brother. "I read it though, it was great!"

It's true, it's very readable and funny.  Going through each of the five senses, the pictures are hilarious, often surprising, and very pleasing, in a retro, mutedly colourful kind of way. I have to hold it at arm's length to read it to BabyM at the moment, because he's a wrecking ball when it comes to books.  Actually, wrecking ball suggests a good hard bash, what he actually does is chomp large sections from the covers to eat, and rips the pages with his callous little fists.  However, frustrating as he finds it that I don't allow him to destroy this book, he does like it.  Great for toddlers and pre-schoolers, and the odd 10 year old sister...

Sunday 7 September 2014

The reading reconnection

Oh my word, C is hard work at the moment.  Having never been in possession of an 8 year old boy before, I don't know if it's common to the species, but he appears to have morphed into a todder/teenager hybrid over the last few months, which has been a little challenging.  I, obviously, have handled this in a calm, soothing manner.  There have, of course, been no tantrums on my part.

Sometimes it can be hard to pull us both back from the bickering brink.  Luckily for C and I, there are always books.  I remember back when they were little, I would always feel so very grateful for story time, because even if we'd had a really long, hard day, stories were always happy, always snuggly, always positive.  Both older children still have a story, but often it's MrM who gets this privilege at the moment, as I put the baby to bed. I might have to wrestle it back once they've finished with Narnia

I have tried a new tack over the last couple of days with C - engage him in conversation about books whilst we're both happy. We've talked about old favourites, new obsessions (he's currently working through Harry Potter) and the book I'm currently reading for work (Donalynn Miller's Reading in the Wild. Funnily enough, as I was reading a section this evening, whilst feeding the baby, I happened upon a passage about reading forging and strengthening relationships.  This spoke so clearly to me tonight.  I think, during a testing time, it's so tempting to focus on what has gone wrong, without giving time to what goes right.  Reading gives both C and I a feeling of serenity, and a non-controversial subject to talk about when other topics seem contentious.