Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I have snacking issues.

I didn’t used to, particularly.  It was creeping up on me, but I had it mostly under control until my hubby took me to the Utah Shakespearean Festival and we bought snacks for our hotel room.  Now, I do 99% of the grocery shopping, usually with a child or two in tow; they see what I buy, and that serves as a pretty good built-in restraint.  My hubby, on the other hand–let’s just say he did nothing to save me from myself.  Suddenly there were all of these delightful snacks, and ever since then I’m been struggling to try and reign myself back in, because a snacking habit gathers momentum frighteningly fast, especially when combined with a curiosity about how new things taste.

On the other hand, I can offer you some suggestions, if you’re looking for something snacky and coming up dry.  If you want savory, I have to say that the new Smoked Gouda Triscuits are tasty, and the Fire Roasted Tomato and Olive Oil variety continue to be delightful; the Mediterranean Style Olive ones are a bit much for me, but if you love Kalamata olives, you probably want to give them a try.  The new Lays Smoked Gouda and Chive chips are delightful as well (although the Korean BBQ kind are strange and the herby ones are a little much).

If you want sweet, on the other hand, may I suggest the Dark Chocolate Covered Coconut Almonds at Costco?  AND the Lemoncello Almonds, although I’m not sure they’re available at all locations. Cinnamon Bun Oreos are tasty as well (as are the Red Velvet ones, although they may just be a Valentine’s thing).

What are YOUR favorite snacky foods?

In this case, the author of Bearskin went to high school with one of my favorite of my hubby’s cousins, and so she (the cousin, not the author) asked me if I would like to read it and review it on my blog.  I hesitated initially because I don’t read a ton of youth fantasy anymore, but I am fond of fairy tale retellings, and so I said yes with the disclaimer that I might not get to it right away.

Which I haven’t.

It did make its way up my to-read list, however, and so I finally picked it up with the intention of doing a bit of a speed read.  (Because I really don’t read a lot of youth fantasy anymore.  Unless, of course, it’s written by Robin McKinley, but since her husband died in December, I’m not expecting to see anything new from her any time soon.)  Interestingly, while I started out at an almost-skim, the book ended up thoroughly engrossing me in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible.  The first several scenes took me by surprise (I am in no way familiar with the original fairy tale), and while I wondered just how invested I would become in the fate of the witch’s children (both step and biological), I ended up lost in the story. The journeys of the three young people were not at all what I expected, and while the endings of two of those journeys were relatively predictable (there is a certain structure to fairy tales, after all), the evolution of the third surprised me from beginning to end.

Okay, I’m not sure how much more I want to say; I don’t want to be guilty of spoilers, and some stories are hard to describe without any.  What I will say is that while it’s not perfectly written, the quality of the writing surprised me.  I noticed on Goodreads that several people thought it started out too slowly, but that didn’t bother me.  It took me a bit to get emotionally involved with the characters, perhaps, but enough was happening in the meantime to keep me reading.  Bottom line?  If you like fairy tale retellings, I wholeheartedly recommend this one.

Several months ago my friend Britt picked Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict for our (extremely casual) book club; in the last couple of weeks, we both finally got around to reading it.  Sadly, neither of us loved it, although you’ll have to go to her blog to see what she thought of it.  (Google “Confessions of a Book Habitue”.  She does pictures.)  The narrator just seems on the vulgar side for someone THAT into Jane Austen, and some of the plot elements didn’t–quite–work for me.  Its companion novel, Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict, was actually quite a bit better, but unfortunately, that just made it between “okay” and “good” on my book scale.  Confessions tells the story of a girl from LA who wakes up in the body of a woman in 1813 England, while Awakenings gives us the story of the displaced English girl in LA.  If this seems totally your thing, you might enjoy them (especially the second one), but I can’t advise you to rush out and read them today.  (Although I did enjoy the second one a good bit more.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to read that one first, however, because I didn’t, and it’s so difficult to un-know in hindsight.)

Anyway.  It’s up to you on these two.

On the one hand, it’s good to be back; on the other hand, it means my sister’s family has gone home already and my parents are leaving tonight.

Sigh.

To add insult to injury, I found Bryn Barnard’s Outbreak:  Plagues That Changed History to be ultimately disappointing.  I had such high hopes!  It’s not that it wasn’t interesting, you understand.  It was accessible and provided fascinatingly gory details about the Black Death, cholera, smallpox, and a few other diseases.  My problem was that as the book went on, it became increasingly obvious that it wasn’t a meticulously researched, well-presented work of nonfiction in the tradition of Jim Murphy, Susan Campbell Bartoletti, and Russell Freedman.  Instead, it felt anecdotal; there was a lot of fact there, certainly, but the presentation had a definite bias, and when I looked into a claim that I’d never heard before, I found that it had been a theory, but had been abandoned because the science didn’t support it. Barnard spent a decent portion of the book talking about what we can do to curtail current and future outbreaks, but his solutions felt mostly one-sided and oversimplified.

Bottom line?  There are good storytellers who are also excellent authors of intermediate nonfiction; Bryn Barnard is one, but not the other.

I was going to post last night–I really was–but I was so ridiculously tired that I just couldn’t do it.  My niece is going on a mission and so my sister and her family AND my parents are in town, and we spent last night down at the Payson Temple together.  (Thanks to my awesome hubby for being on child duty!) They’ll be in town for several more days, so I’m officially taking a bit of a break.  I’ll be back on Wednesday!

My first exposure to Joyce Sidman was her Newbery Honor-winning Dark Emperor & Other Poems of the Night; I read it right after it won, and I remember enjoying it, and that’s about it.  More recently, however, Swirl by Swirl:  Spirals in Nature popped up on my radar (I don’t remember how).  I grabbed it because I have an artist for an oldest daughter, and both of my older girls enjoyed it.  When it was no longer renewable at the library, I put another of Sidman’s books on hold, because why not?  After all, Red Sings from Treetops:  A Year in Colors sounded like another title my artist daughter would enjoy.

Hmmm.

My second girlie was so not interested that she actively did other things, even though it was her out-of-town Grandma reading it.  My oldest stuck with it and thought about it, my mother said, but it was a stretch even for her.  I read through it after they had moved on to something else, and I found myself in awe at the beauty of it, but it’s really not a children’s book at all.  It’s a lovely poem with whimsically beautiful illustrations that no young child is going to fully appreciate.  (If you love the seasons and the beauty of the world as it experiences them, though, you REALLY need to read this book.)

It will be interesting to see what the rest of her books are like, really.  For the moment, I can say that in my experience, she’s always good, but not always in the same way.  Nature lovers, you need to give her a try; Moms should pick and choose what they think is going to hold their children’s interest.  Either way, she’s always worth looking at.

It’s no secret that I check mass quantities of books out of the library, for both me and my children.  If I’m familiar with the book, or someone I know is familiar with the book and recommends it for my kiddos, I might pass it along without looking through it.  (Then again, I might not–not if it looks fun!)  If I don’t know anything about a book other than the title and its plot summary, however, I tend to give it a look-see first.  Sometimes I do it because the book looks good and I’m afraid I won’t ever get to it if it disappears into the older girls’ bedroom; sometimes, however, I’m actively evaluating a book to see how I feel about giving it to my child to read.

Now, I’ve never taken a book she wants to read away from her (although I had her stop after the third Harry Potter for quite a while, since she’s only 9 and used to get scared rather frequently during her nighttime reading).  I would, you understand, if I felt it was completely inappropriate; Judy Blume’s Forever is not at all appropriate for a 3rd grader, and Piers Anthony doesn’t need to happen at my house any time soon.  (As far as I’m concerned, by the way, V.C. Andrews never needs to happen, because ewww, incest!)  For the most part, however, I would like to follow Joseph Smith’s admonition to ‘teach correct principles and let the people govern themselves.’

BUT.

What my kiddos bring home is one thing.  (I did cringe a bit at the Beverly Cleary first love stories, but strictly in an ‘ugh, already?’ kind of way.)  What I introduce them to and provide for them, however, is something else entirely.  My oldest is into mysteries, and so I keep an eye out for titles that she might like–and then I preview them, because I’d rather not have her reading anything too creepy just yet.  The last three I’ve checked out of the library have given me pause for that very reason, and I can’t help wondering if I’m underestimating her, or if it’s entirely reasonable to want her to wait a year or three before she’s reading about teachers being murdered (or being murderous, really).  At the moment I’m leaning towards compiling a list of mysteries she should possibly wait until middle school to read.  I just want so badly to find the right line between letting her discover and make her own choices while not pushing her to grow up any faster than she already will.

Thoughts?

I do love historical verse novels, and so I was more or less excited about Caroline Starr Rose’s Blue Birds, even if I didn’t love May B. quite as much as I wanted to (AND even though the 16th century isn’t my first choice for historical fiction).  As I read, however, I realized that what I really wanted was nonfiction about Roanoke; my meticulous need to know what is true and what isn’t makes it hard for me to enjoy books that make too many assumptions about a historical event (case in point:  “The Perfect Storm” drove me crazy).  It was interesting to read about Alis and Kimi, yes, and the author obviously did her research, but I cared a lot more about the event she used as her setting than I did about the fictional characters involved.  The girls’ friendship was affecting, but the book ended up going somewhere I didn’t expect it to–somewhere that seemed a bit far-fetched to me.  (Being a parent made the whole thing worse, by the way.)  In the end, it wasn’t really my thing.

Whether or not I recommend it, then, gets a bit tricky.  If you don’t like a high level of supposition as part of your historical fiction, this is definitely not for you; on the other hand, if that doesn’t bother you and you’re interested by this era in history, you should possibly give it a try.

Let me know what you think of the ending.

My Dad is the sort of man who has always had strong opinions; not surprisingly, those opinions affected what I was exposed to when I was young.  I saw “My Fair Lady” and “Operation Petticoat” and “South Pacific” and “Father Goose” many times as a child; I was an adult, however, before I saw an entire Barbara Streisand movie (she was Barbara then, and I’m over it).  He was not a fan.  He wasn’t a fan of Katherine Hepburn either; I saw “African Queen” once when I was growing up, but that was it.  Which is why, at the movie night our church women’s group held this week, I felt weirdly disloyal for thoroughly enjoying “Desk Set”.

I actually had reservations going in, to be honest with you.  Several friends had recommended it to me, and I didn’t disbelieve them, but I generally don’t love Spencer Tracy OR Katherine Hepburn.  I was pleasantly surprised, however, by both.  The film stars Spencer Tracy as a slightly awkward efficiency expert and Katherine Hepburn as the head of the research department he’s studying.  Tracy played his part to such perfection that I didn’t once think of him as the turncoat in “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World”; Hepburn’s looks haven’t grown on me any, but she was surprisingly convincing as an intelligent woman whose loneliness interfered with her personal strength and judgment.  (Non sequitur:  her fashion sense puts me in mind of Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad About My Neck.)  The plot was enjoyable, the twist was well done, and the cast a pleasure to spend time with.  The cinematography reminded me of a made-for-tv movie from back in the day, but it wasn’t a big deal.  Despite my random touch of guilt for straying from my upbringing–or something–I have to say that it was totally worth seeing.

(It’s even better with popcorn, candy, and Oreo fluff; then again, most things are.)

It isn’t often that the Newbery Medal is awarded to a picture book.  I can think of a few Newbery Honor picture books floating around, but even those are few and far between; I’d have to study my list to see if a picture book has ever won a medal before, and that’s the sort of thing I don’t currently do past 10. (Maybe when the baby starts sleeping through the night again.)  Either way, this year’s winner was a surprise.

Matt de la Pena’s Last Stop on Market Street, however, is a worthy winner.  (Of several awards, mind you–it’s a Caldecott Honor book and a Coretta Scott King Illustrator Honor book as well–and please, please, PLEASE pretend that there’s a tilde on top of that “n” in Pena.)  I really want to be friends with CJ’s nana, who takes him home from church on the bus and answers his every question in a way that sheds a different light of meaning on his world.  I’m looking forward to my children’s reactions to her answers, actually.  It should spark some interesting conversations.  Really, if you haven’t read Last Stop on Market Street yet, pick it up for your kids.  Or yourself.

Either way.

(OH, and by the way?  Buttercream frosting did quite a lot for those chocolate sugar cookies.  Just butter, powdered sugar, vanilla, milk, and a touch of butter extract.  

Mmmmm.)