Summer Reads 2012

Just sharing some of the kids' favorite reads for this summer. Bear has just finished book one of the Harry Potter series. He enjoyed Sorcerer's Stone, but says he liked The Mysterious Benedict Society more. 

I've read the Potter series. Who hasn't? But I've only read parts of Benedict Society. The official blurb reads... "Are you a gifted child looking for special opportunities? When this peculiar ad appears in the newspaper, dozens of children enroll to take a series of mysterious, mind-bending tests. But in the end just four very special children will succeed. Their challenge: to go on a secret mission that only the most intelligent and resourceful children could complete. With their newfound friendship at stake, will they be able to pass the most important test of all?" Bear attests that the book has a lot of funny, clever, exciting things in it. So book two of Benedict Society first, before book two of Harry Potter. I'm intrigued because, wasn't Potter pretty exciting?

Now this recommendation comes from Chicha and it is precious. Dr. Seuss's stories published in Redbook and other magazines in the 40s and 50s once forgotten, now found and bound into a lovely compilation. 

This isn't just memorabilia. I think the stories are literary gems that would stand against his classics. The irreverence, silliness, signature rhythm and rhyme are all there. So are the Seuss-style moral underpinnings. The Bippolo Seed is a wonderful  allegory on the pitfalls of greed.

I will read that story again and again to that certain 8-year old boy who has this for his current wish list…!

Back to the topic of books. Here's another fantastic one, from pictures to verse. From the genius who brought us The Phantom Tollbooth. Norton Juster we love you!

It is a hot Manila Easter Sunday as I type all this, so before I go… meet Ester the Easter Tree. Bear and Chicha made her. 

I named her Ester because in one of the hanging tags Chicha wrote, Happy Ester. Heehee. I suppose the lame humor comes from my being in a really good mood. Happy Easter Internet!

Dragons, a Gun, and a Cricket

Posterity post! 

Bear has entered the age of reading chapter books all on his own—and the kind with literary flavor. Sorry, but I wouldn't count Geronimo Stilton last year, though I think that nerdy little mouse is good at getting kids to read. Anyway... Officially recorded here, his first solo literary adventure at age 7, the year 2011. It was an Amazon freebie I had put on my Kindle, but here's a picture of the children's classic by Ruth Stiles Gannett…

Bear told me there was a “really scary” part—so scary, he “didn't want to read anymore.” But the story was just so good, he had to finish it. He adds that it was “really funny.” I have not read the book myself, but I love it just because it was his first chapter book and because it was so riveting he had faced his fears just to get to the ending. Imagine that.

While he’s anxiously waiting for the sequels (Elmer and The Dragon and The Dragon's of Blueland) I have yet to score, he has also read and enjoyed, so far...

So incidentally...

Psychologist Philip Zimbardo warns us about boys failing to thrive academically and socially in this age of video games and the Internet.  Middle school teacher and author John Scieszka is on a mission, going on a "Guys with Books Tour" to make more boys read because not enough of them do. 

It doesn't have to be that way. 

Bear enjoys his Minecraft, LEGO Star Wars and Pocket God, but he can still get into books written in the 1940s. I’m hopeful literature will be a big part of his life. 

I think it's all about giving boys the chance to read. Just the chance, no forcing or bribing or preaching. During No Electronics Time at home, one of the things our Resident Boy chooses to do is pick up a comic, magazine or book. Otherwise, boredom. There's stuff to read, might as well. Tapping into natural interests is another thing. So I chose Newbery winners, but I also clued in on his liking dragons and guns and insects. These are all very much boy things. And it worked. He got into it. The children’s canon of books is so big there's enough to excite every kid, boy or girl. 

I have always thought books are like friends. You can't really choose which ones your kids will love. But we're the ones that give them the opportunity to meet them. That's a big deal. Books are some of the best friends we could ever have. 

Love in a Box

Bookish moms here's a story for you. 19-year-old college girl is kidnapped by Demented Pervert, imprisons her in his backyard shed, then uses her as his concubine. She eventually bears a son, and with her child she shares the 11x11 foot dungeon-of-no-escape. And so begins her life as fiercely-loving Ma to wonderful Jack. For years, their only link to the outside world are nightly visits by their captor whom they call Old Nick.

With a plot like that, this book could have just become a cheap, sordid, voyeuristic read inspired by the Josef Fritzl case. Far from it. As someone from The New Yorker puts it, Room is "a horror story redeemed by radiant prose." I see it as the story of how Jack and his Ma save each other. And I'm not just talking about saved from captivity.

Writer Emma Donoghue makes 5-year-old Jack the narrator of her novel and this works out brilliantly. There is nothing like a child explaining Life's Truths so simply, and nothing like a dire situation to highlight Life's Truths. Parenthood truly makes us most vulnerable. At the same time, it is also what gives us strength to forge ahead… imprisonment, emotional torture and nightly-rape-be-damned.

Ma is smart, wise and brave. She's the kind of fighter any good mother should be. Jack is childhood goodness and imagination personified. But they are not airbrush-perfect people. They are also damaged and flawed, at times weak despite their resilience. Their story is painful, but ultimately it is a beautiful mother-child love story. Mothers, you will respond to this! This novel will grip you. It will make you ask yourself profound questions. I just finished reading Room and after being emotionally walloped I am now bursting with Hope.

Viva La Vida, Ma!

Good Read - A Walk in the Rain with a Brain

If you read my novel article for Working Mom, you'd know that I don't exactly break into a song and dance with cartwheels when people ask me how each boy measures up to the other. Who's smarter. Who's quicker. Who's better. It.. well... bugs me. It really does. My personal favorite? Middle-aged lady bending over to be eye level with Mak and Tato (for extra impact I guess?): "Soooooo.. which one of you is the good one and which one is the bad one?" Oh, wait. I think that deserved a cartwheel. Maybe even a song and a dance.

Which is why I love Edward Hallowell's children's book: A Walk in the Rain with a Brain. Dr. Hallowell, teacher, psychiatrist and advocate for children with attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder writes: I originally wrote this book for my three young children. I wanted to teach them a wonderfully liberating truth: no brain is the best. It is crucial that children do not start believing an insidious myth most people throughout history grew up believing: that only a few people are "smart". That belief has held far, far more people back than lack of brainpower ever did.

The story line is a bit odd but the message is unbelievably powerful. Lucy, a little girl, walks outside on a rainy day and spots Manfred, a brain. As they wander about looking for his head (I warned you didn't I?) she asks him to help her become smart. Fred said with a start, "Everyone's smart! You just need to find out at what!"

There's more! There's more!

No brain is the same, no brain is the best. Each brain finds its own special way.

You can slide, you can read, you can run - whatever you do make it fun!

We're all smart inside.

And no brain should hide!

What we each need to do,

As we grow, me and you,

Is try all that we possibly can.

This one's a keeper.

The Book Thief

It's 1943, Hitler is on a rampage and Death is busy. Which is just one of the reasons why The Book Thief is a must-read. 

Death is the book's narrator and he, she or whatever, has a great story to tell young adult readers as well as older grown ups.  As Death itself says:

Yes, I have seen a great many things in this world. I attend the greatest disasters and work for the greatest villains.

But then there are other moments.

There's a multitude of stories (a mere handful, as I had previously suggested) that I allow to distract me as I work, just as the colors do. I pick them up in the unluckiest, unlikeliest places and I make sure to remember them as I go about my work. The Book Thief is one such story. 

Liesel Meminger is The Book Thief, one of the best young female characters I  have had the pleasure to meet. She's vulnerable but strong. She is damaged, but like the best people, she has gone through hell and come back a kick-ass heroine. Aside from Liesel, I fell in love with so many wonderful characters in this book. I love Hans, Rudy, Max, Ilsa and even Rosa. They made me cry buckets. 

Don't be daunted by my mention of Death as narrator and the crying-of-buckets. Markus Zusak's young adult novel is unsettling and at times heartbreaking. When you're done with it though, you'll realize how awesome it is just to be alive. Speaking of… this 4-year-old has a minor obsession about death and mamas growing old. 

Blame it on November trips to the cemetery and a creepy book by Robert Munsch. I Love You Forever, anyone? She is intrigued but also freaked-out about death.  "Mamas are not supposed to die!" One day, my dear Chicha you have got to read The Book Thief. 

Why I Love Comics

Oh, the usual... they tell great stories, they bring you to far away adventures, they have characters who mirror the best and worst of ourselves and all-that-literary-jazz. Comics are funny, sometimes satiric. They can be easy, engaging reads even as they show history and not-so-subtle political commentary.

Some comics are so damn good they have illustrations worthy of museums built just for them.

Also, comics make 6-year-olds read for fun. That in itself is awesome. Comics make kids beg parents to go to the bookstore where they can discover other genres and authors. Today Herge. Maybe one day Tolkien?

And so...

I was at the bookstore when I overheard a mom sneer at her child, "you should be reading chapter books, not that." That being a Geronimo Stilton comic the poor boy was clutching. As Captain Haddock would say, blistering barnacles! To Sneering Mom, except for the crappy ones, what's wrong with comics? There are crappy books just as there are crappy comics. I know, I am taking her remark too personally, but come on, Danielle Steel novel or Neil Gaiman graphic novel? You choose.

The Phantom Tollbooth

I love to rave about things. Call me Ms. Hyperbole. So how can I not rave about the best children's book I've read this year? Now officially one of my favorite books, ever. As I child, I was mesmerized by Alice in Wonderland and thought no book could be more magical and wonderfully weird. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory had a similar effect on me. Then comes adulthood, when I fall smack down in love with this piece of literary whimsy...

Published in 1961 and hailed as a children's classic, I read The Phantom Tollbooth just last Sunday... thanks to my kids whose library I regularly refresh with new titles.

Norton Juster, God bless you and your magical way with puns, word play and layered meanings! And the way Juster paints pictures with words? Breathtaking in their absurdity, elegant in their simplicity. Imagining Dictionopolis, The Mountains of Ignorance, The Valley of Sound, The Sea of Knowledge and jumping to The Isle of Conclusions is better than any 3D movie experience. No 3D glasses required kids, just fire up those neurons in your head!

You have to read the book and meet The Everpresent Wordsnatcher. His job is "to take words right out of your mouth." When the young protagonist Milo asks him, "Is everyone who lives in Ignorance like you?" He says, the others are "much worse" then explains that he actually lives in "a place very far away called Context." Don't even suggest that he go back home, as The Wordsnatcher thinks Context is... "such an unpleasant place that I spend almost all my time out of it."

Then there's Faintly Macabre who Milo thought was a Witch, but is actually a not-so-wicked Which whose talent is choosing which words to be used for all occasions.

Only in this land beyond The Phantom Tollbooth will you find the cart without an engine or anything to pull it. When you ride it you just have to be silent as... "it goes without saying."

And if one day we may have to explain the concept of Infinity to a child, we could learn a thing or two from The Mathemagician.

I will stop enumerating my favorite parts of The Phantom Tollbooth, as there is something wonderful to be found in every page, all 255 of them. Juster created such a rich candy land of words, but there is more to it than the word-candy and the enthralling plot to save Princesses Rhyme and Reason.

The Phantom Tollbooth is a Philosophy Book written as satire. Really, it is. It's about the wonderful though often arduous journey we all have to take to find wisdom. There are lessons to be learned here, but Juster also shows great empathy and obviously remembers what it's like to be a child. He is no condescending adult talking down to the little ones.

Milo, who has plenty of time.

Juster's young hero starts off in the grips of typical school boy ennui. Milo's first words in the book: "It seems to me everything is a waste of time... I can't see the point in learning to solve useless problems, or subtracting turnips from turnips, or knowing where Ethiopia is or how to spell February." The book goes on: "And since no one bothered to explain otherwise, he regarded the process of seeking knowledge as the greatest waste of time of all."

Then things start to change when The Phantom Tollbooth mysteriously appears in Milo's bedroom. It is a children's book, so expect the happy ending. I promise I didn't spoil it for you. The journey to that happy ending is what really matters. And oh what a journey it is!

The Magic of Children's Books

I've been meaning to get my hands on this book.  I hear it's a real gem.  One  question.  "What children's book changed the way you see the world?"  Okay, okay... maybe two questions because more importantly Anita Silvey asks "How?" 

Of course there isn't just one answer (is there ever?) but over a hundred by notable leaders and figures from different fields. Business, politics, arts, medicine, journalism, sports. The works.  

William DeVries, who helped develop the world's first artificial heart chose Wizard of Oz thinking about the lines of Tin Woodman many, many times over his lifetime. "For my part, I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur, if you will give me a heart." 

Nona, I know Chicha loves Ezra Jack Keats'  Snowy Day.  Looks like she's not alone. Author Sherman Alexie chose this one for the very reason that "it was pretty much the only protagonist with dark skin..It was the first time I looked at a book and saw a brown, black, beige character - a character who resembled me physically and spiritually, in all his gorgeous loneliness and splendid isolation"  leading him to believe  "People might want to listen to me too." 

Kinda makes you think what yours is, doesn't it?

Remembering Charlotte

Mak is currently our in-house Mr. Nosy who wants to know everything about everyone. First it was birthdays, then ages, then weight. Lately he's been asking what MacDaddy and I were up to "two hundred years ago when we were small". First movie we ever saw? Blame it on all that anesthesia or the aging process or that it sometimes does feel like two hundred years ago, but I'm blank. I can't remember. I gave him a lame answer like Jaws but I'm pretty sure that wasn't my first flick ever. MacDaddy has no problem remembering his. We're not supposed to forget our firsts, after all. His is Charlotte's Web, the 1973 screenplay adaptation of E.B. White's book. One of his all-time favorites, he says. Busted. Bike-riding, golf-playing, run-happy Macdaddy, as it turns out, is a sentimental one. And because they are plain nosy, Macdaddy is forced to dig deep, clear his own cobwebs and tell them all about Wilbur the Pig and Charlotte the Spider and all the trouble she goes through to keep him out of being the main enchilada on the dinner table. He tells them about one of the most beautiful pieces ever written about friendship, trust, sacrifice, birth, life, you know the rest. Even I'm all ears.

Fifty eight years later, we can all still learn a thing or two from Charlotte. "You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life anyway? We're born, we love a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."

And then in classic MacDaddy fashion he ends with ".. and then Charlotte died. The pig was sad. The End". And I see pure shock in my little boys' eyes because mommy usually ends her stories with ".. and they lived happily ever after" and I am once again ever so grateful for MacDaddy who keeps it all so real.

P.S. MacDaddy is determined to find the DVD. Our search is on. In the meantime, this is the best I can do. Happy reminiscing, MacD. This one's for you.

Hitting Those Books Again

I'm in a lovely book club, with some favorite friends. Coey and Mrs. B of The Literary Stew formed the group a few months ago, just in time, as I had gone back to reading Books For My Pleasure--not just Books For The Children and Books In Aid Of Parenting or Books About Rising Above Your Shitty Past/Self, a.k.a Buddhism With A Trademark. When the kids were, baby-babies, it seems all I could comprehend were Babycenter, Babble, Malcolm Gladwell, Ken Robinson, Alfie Kohn and the like. Goodbye Murakami.

I though it serendipitous the first novel chosen for our book club was Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. That was actually the one and only piece of fiction I was able to enjoy during my reading dry-spell of sorts. I loved it then, and I loved re-reading it. Made me cry in the same parts... as well as in some new ones. The boy with autism in the book is one of my all-time favorite young protagonists. You get a rare chance to see into his mind and understand his feelings (yes, people with autism have feelings) thanks to the author. It's no surprise that Mark Haddon used to teach special kids. He must have been a great teacher.

Coey was in charge of picking our next book and she chose another winner: The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery. The first half waxes philosophical quite a lot. I took her words in by sipping it slow. Barbery had some sentences that were just so beautifully thought-out I would read them several times over. Sometimes I'd think, did she mean this or that? For the record, she has the most erudite and profound explanation for why Japanese spaces are made more poetic by sliding doors. Who knew? But I agreed! Renee is a wonderfully unique protagonist, but Paloma... oh the young, angry, suicidal Paloma! I have a soft spot for the Palomas and Holden Caulfields of this world--fictional and otherwise. If you have read The Catcher in the Rye and meet The Hedgehog's Paloma character you may catch my drift. The second half is when the plot thickens with some good old love and romance. Then it ends... sigh... bringing tears of shock, then melancholy and--oddly--a creeping sense of joy.

Now I wax philosophical a bit myself and think... this back-to-the-books stage marks a milestone for me as a mother. Yup, a mother. Apparently, I'm more settled about this parenting business. No more pressure to read so much Crucial Research as if to acquire some sort of Parenting PhD from the University of Google, Amazon and Powerbooks. That pursuit still interests me a lot, and yet, here I am, when I can enjoy an evening like this....

After enjoying Geronimo Stilton, Fancy Nancy and some funny Silverstein poems with the kids, they are sound asleep. Pappy is watching downloaded TV--without me, his usual viewing partner. Not this night, because I am reading The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. Set in postwar England, the old haunted Georgian house in the book is so imposing, so menacing, it's practically the main character--haunted by past trauma and hurt... haunted by a sly, freaky, cruel little poltergeist. There's a sense of foreboding in every page, even in the cheerier parts. To ease the night time jumpiness it gives me, I read it with a glass of wine. Nice. I had fiction-and-wine night, for heaven's sake. My cup just freaking runneth over.

Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco

Filipino writer Miguel Syjuco won the Man Asian Literary Prize and the Palanca Award for his first novel in 2008. It was just a manuscript back then. Now it's published and out in bookstores all over the world.

It's not an easy-breezy read, but that's not to say it wasn't enjoyable. It's weird fun like a Philip Roth novel. In between moments of touching insight and human tragedy, you'll laugh, you'll cringe. You'll laugh and cringe. Or maybe because I overlapped reading The Anatomy Lesson and Ilustrado? I'm kind of ADD that way.

The authors I have relished reading are often funny, even when they're exposing sad truths and horrible realities. Miguel Syjuco now included. My friend Coey took me to the book club dinner for Ilustrado, so thanks to her I got to tell him myself. Hooray for mommy-dates!

That's Coey and the author. After dinner, we had our books signed.

Powerbooks was our gracious host. Thanks for the Cibo dinner!

I also got to throw probably the silliest question asked of him that night: Were you a good boy growing up? You and my son were both born on November 17. Fine, roll your eyes. But...

Instead of some glib comeback, he told me how he was always deeply motivated by pleasing his parents which made the decision to pursue writing more difficult then it already was. That made me think. I also wanted to give him a support-group hug for being so brave. I probably responded with some shallow quip which I tend to do when flustered plus distracted by reflection and a sudden feeling of sympathy for a stranger. In this case, the stranger happens to be a talented, cute, charming author to boot. Anyhooo....

Here's a glimpse of his novel which I'm guessing made his parents proud. This is a conversation between the protagonist, a young writer named Miguel and his mentor--the "controversial lion of Philippine letters" Crispin. Two lit-geeks, sharing existential thoughts over burgers and a chess game in Central Park.

He was watching the children play. He noticed me and smiled. "From time to time," he said, "I wonder at the value of things such as those. Maybe I should have mustered the courage to raise one."

I studied the board. "I think you made the right choice," I finally said. "The world's overpopulated. Don't you think we all have our roles? Your books will have a greater effect." I bit into my burger.

Crispin gestured with his thumb at the children. "If I'm not writing TBA for our offspring, then who for?" He watched them for a moment. "One day you'll understand."

"I get it now. It doesn't mean I agree."

"I think you'll find even literature has its limitations. That will be a good thing, if you discover that."

"Limitations keep us striving."

After the Tractatus, Wittgenstein became" --Crispin picked up his king, then put it back. I let it pass-- "a primary school teacher. Rimbaud grew bored with poetry and left for Africa. Duchamp gave up art for this very game we're playing." Crispin moved his king next to my knight. "With every new year come new regrets, Miguel. You'll have your collection of them."

"That's condescending," I said, surprised by the acid in my voice. "I have my own."

"I'm sorry that you didn't know your parents. But there's more to life than that."

"You wouldn't understand." I couldn't look at him. I wish I had. Maybe I would have seen. But I went on. "That's why with literature, at least I can control what happens. We can create, revise. Try better next time. If we fail, we only screw ourselves..."

"But if we succeed, we can change the world." I moved my knight. "Check." I looked up at him.

Crispin's face was like how I imagine my father's to have been, magnanimous and amused. "Changing the world," he said, "is good work if you can get it. But isn't having a child a gesture of optimism in that world?"

"Ugh. That's a little twee for my taste."

"Seriously, intellectually speaking. Consider it a moment."

"Sometimes we just aren't given a choice in the matter." I heard myself. I'm ashamed of how I sounded.

"We always are." Crispin moved his king. "Checkmate," he said. Sure enough there was nowhere I could go. Crispin got up and looked at me with either naked disappointment or brutal pity. He put his hands in his pockets and went and watched the children splashing. I still remember the tune he started to whistle.

Ilustrado, pages 121 and 122

I had to look up Tractatus and Wittgenstein, but I was totally feeling that conversation. Also, it's the perfect snippet for this mama-blog that's home to my twee posts. If I could join Miguel and Crispin's conversation, I'd tell them... Having children does change the world. It changed me. It's planet's most basic engine-of-change.

There are plenty more touching, insightful parts in the book. Some laugh out loud funny. Some raunchy. And the ending, wow, I didn't see that coming. Now indulge me and more of my silliness. Check out the author's inscriptions...

He signed a book for Bear, the 6-year-old who shares his birthday.

I'm sure he says this to all the matronas, but I have to hand it to Mr. Syjuco, for knowing how to make aging, bedraggled moms feel a little better about themselves--even if it's just over one dinner and a few minutes of chit-chatting.

For Bear's mama who thinks November 17 Scorpio boys are awesome.

Martin Scorsese was born on that day too. And Lorne Michaels. Cool.

Swoon. Hahaha! Told you he was funny. Read his book. It's already available in Manila bookstores, Amazon US, Amazon UK and Macmillan.