Books to infinity ♾️

Can we read? No. 96

Happy February!

January is over but where I live, here on the edge of the Driftless Area in gorgeous southern Wisconsin, spring is still eons away. Nevertheless, eventually, at some unknown date in the future, beyond what we all expect every single year despite a lifetime of evidence that we will have at least one final blizzard in April: chickadees, titmice (titmouses? I never know), and red-winged blackbirds will start singing again; trees will bud; peepers will peep (my favorite).

Until then, we hold on. (Don’t give up! It’s already still light at 5pm!)

If you need something to make the holding on a little easier, my friend Hope of the excellent Substack newsletter, Family Scripts, has come up with Hobbit-inspired meals + discussion, which she frames in a way I just love:

“…as you look ahead to the challenges you might face this year, it helps to see yourself as a character on a journey who has lots of heroic potential hidden inside 🗡 (Remember that easier isn’t always better.)”

Yes!

Enjoy.

Hobbit-Inspired Meals + Discussions 🧙‍♂️🏔️🧭

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Crenshaw by Katherine Applegate (2015)

In this tender novel, a young boy named Jackson is in a tough spot: his family has had periods where they’ve had to live in their car in the past, and it looks like it’s going to be another one of those times soon. He does his best to keep his little sister’s spirits up and to fend off the crushing anxiety he feels — he doesn’t want to burden his parents, who have enough worries — but it’s a lot.

Enter a much larger-than-life, well-mannered but utterly matter-of-fact cat named Crenshaw, an imaginary leftover from Jackson’s young childhood who exists on purple jellybeans and charm.

What will happen to Jackson’s family, living so close to the edge? Can a cat — who offers Jackson comfort and companionship but also gets up to a whole lotta mischief — help?

I won’t give away the ending to this quiet but deeply affecting tale, only offer that its messages of family, friendship, and fortitude are those we are all, perhaps, the better for hearing.

(Note: I wouldn’t read this to any children younger than 8yo, and even then, wait a year or two if yours are particularly sensitive. The topics here are very real, and though Applegate handles them with the utmost talent and sensitivity, it might be too heavy for some young readers.)

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The Little Band by James Sage, illustrated by Keiko Narahashi (1991)

This review first appeared in issue No. 2. I’ve edited and updated it slightly here.

The little band arrives one day and makes their slow way through town, playing their instruments and sharing delight. No one knows where they came from (and no questions are answered for the townsfolk or the reader) but no one really cares: instead they let the music overtake and enchant them. (At least, I would have to be enchanted in order to dance while hanging out the wash.)

This book is dreamlike and mysterious — the illusory quality of Narahashi's watercolor illustrations add much here — but I like this: it makes for good questions and conversations during read-aloud (Where did the band come from, and why?)

The townspeople never forget the music or how it changed them, and it’s nice to be reminded — or learn for the first time — that sometimes change arrives and leaves a mystery.

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Infinity and Me by Kate Hosford, illustrated by Gabi Swiatkowska (2012)

In this poetic and philosophical — but still totally, surprisingly accessible — book, a little girl named Uma is stumped by the concept of infinity. The author asks, in a note at the end of the book, if you can remember the first time you really thought about infinity, and amazingly, I can — it blew my sweet little mind — and that’s exactly what this story is about.

Uma asks her friends and family how they think about infinity, and even though their answers are good (and just might spark some interesting conversation while reading this one aloud), it’s not until her grandmother takes special notice of Uma’s red boots — and in doing so, makes clear her love for her granddaughter — that Uma finally understands.

Swiatkowska’s muted, artful mixed-media illustrations add to the pensive mood of this book, which is all about questioning and questing — an apt way of describing the journey this book might take you on, if you’re willing to think hard and explore further with young readers (preschool and up).

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The Bear and the Kingbird by the Brothers Grimm, translated by Lore Segal, illustrated by Chris Conover (1979)

Let’s be honest: Grimm’s fairy tales are straight-up weird, and some much weirder (and more gruesome) than others, but because of our general familiarity with some of the more famous ones, the weirdness has worn off a bit.

Not so here in The Bear and the Kingbird, which can best be described as a war story between the birds — like, all the birds in the world — and some forest creatures. There isn’t any overt violence, and Conover’s incredible pencil, pen, and watercolor illustrations, though unbelievably strange — think Graeme Base-strange — depict some weapons but not the actions associated with them, which leaves this fast-paced story full of ferocity and action without resorting to brutality.

If you have a fairy tale lover or are simply looking to expand your fairy tale repetiore, this one is certainly worth checking out, if only to see just how weird Grimm’s could get.

(If you want more folk and fairy tale recommendations from me — including my well-researched reasoning behind not shielding children from the darkness these old stories can contain — see my Spotlight On: Folk and Fairy Tales, Part 1 and Part 2. Oldies but goodies!)

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Thanks for reading today — I appreciate your eyeballs 👀 If you want to help me get more eyeballs, which ultimately helps more families read more books together, pass this along to someone who might also enjoy it. (Thank you if you do!)

Sarah