Can we read? No. 19
Good morning. I’m inexplicably exhausted, my skin is a mess, and it’s only Wednesday! But you know what? There’s a beautiful world right outside my window. It’s 31 degrees (this is a welcome number to me), the sky is that perfectly crisp fall blue, I’m wearing a flannel shirt for the first time this season and listening to the Glenn Miller Orchestra, alone in the house. AND, on Friday, for the first time since March 7, I’m going to an appointment-only library book sale — HALLELUJAH! 🙌 I’m only allowed 45 minutes so in addition to my regular, pre-pandemic book sale strategy (bring my own extra large collapsible trunk tote like an insane person; wear comfortable shoes, light and breathable clothing I can easily squat in, and the fiercest resting bitch face you ever did see), I’m having to think through the layout of this particular store and decide where and how I will spend my time. (In other words: PERSONAL BLISS.) Despite the tough stuff and certainly in spite of all the negative things happening within and without, life is still good.
Wherever you’re at this morning, whatever you’re feeling, I see you and I’ll take you exactly as you are. In those wildly over-quoted (but with every valid reason in the world) words of the late, irreplaceable Mary Oliver: “You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves.” That’s enough. You are enough, right here, right now, exactly as you are. And I am sending you my love.
Now let’s talk about some books.
The Bug Girl: A True Story by Sophia Spencer and Margaret McNamara, illustrated by Kerascoët (2020)
If you’ve been reading my newsletter for even a short time, you know I don’t often review new books or even books written in the last decade, but as soon as we finished with this one, I knew I was going to bump it to the top this week. Full disclosure: I rarely tear up while reading, but this one made me cry. My six-year-old asked why and I found I couldn’t tell her, exactly: only that this book, lovingly authored by the fourth grader who is “the bug girl” herself moved me with its honesty, its innocence, and its huge open heart. The Bug Girl, Sophia, is crazy about bugs from the time she is just a toddler, and for awhile, it’s a cool interest to have: her fellow kindergarteners don’t think it’s weird and they certainly don’t make fun of her. As she gets older, this changes — her peers begin to question her passion, and not in a nice way. Her mother, utterly supportive right from the beginning, eventually reaches out to scientists in the entomology world as a way to help her daughter see that loving bugs isn’t strange or anything to be ashamed of — and they respond, in volume, as adults, making this one little girl realize that she is okay just as she is and that her interests are valid and valuable just as they are (this is where I lost it). The illustrations here are bright and sweet without sacrificing the seriousness of the subject matter (I think learning to accept oneself is a highly serious subject matter though I recognize not everyone may agree). Bug education is secondary in this title (though it’s still sure to please any bug lover): what’s most powerful are the lovely messages about following your bliss, being true to who you are, and loving whatever it is you happen to love — no validation needed.
Mystery on the Docks by Edith Thacher Hurd (1983)
This rather bizarre and amusing title is a favorite right now for no discernible reason (I do some great sound effects, though, which may be a factor). It’s the dark, noir story of a rat named Ralph who works in a diner on Pier 46, when one night he encounters some villainous rats who leave without paying for their food. He follows them and — like the plot of a crime novel where the main protagonist sort of falls into the middle of the action by accident and then spends the rest of the book trying to get out of it — he is captured by their boss, a nefarious fellow who may or may not be involved in the kidnapping of Ralph’s favorite opera singer, Eduardo Bombasto (spoiler alert: the nefarious rat is most definitely involved). An action-packed chase scene ensues (with many opportunities for over-the-top sound effects, as mentioned) until Eduardo is rescued, the villains come to justice, and Ralph is returned safely to his life on Pier 46. The illustrations here are more entertaining than masterful — ditto the prose — but there’s nothing wrong with a playful romp, a pleasure read, and this one is just plain fun.
Earth Mother by Ellen Jackson, illustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon (2005)
“Earth Mother awoke with the dawn. She fanned sacred smoke in each of the four directions. Then she walked across the land singing a morning song.” So begins the tale of Earth Mother as she makes her way through her day, giving the beetles their shiny jackets, hanging green acorns on the oaks, placing pieces of summer in the seeds of flowers. When she runs into Man, he greets her and thanks her for sending Frog to fill his belly: but he complains about Mosquito and suggests that if there were no mosquitoes, “this world would be perfect.” Earth Mother listens, and walks on. Then she meets Frog, who follows the same line of reasoning as Man, only thanking Earth Mother for Mosquito, and suggesting she do away with Man. Earth Mother listens, and walks on. Finally she comes upon Mosquito, who thanks for her Man, but suggests she get rid of mosquitoes. She listens, but sighs, and walks on, continuing to care for and nurture all the creatures of the earth, all “her children everywhere,” until eventually she goes to sleep, “and the world, in its own way, was perfect.” Though this story is didactic it’s as gentle in its moral instruction as a lullaby, and as always, the Dillons’ exceptionally lovely, soft illustrations add much to the visual appeal — helping readers see, quite literally, that Earth Mother and the world she tends are beautiful and right, exactly as they are.
Go In and Out the Window: An Illustrated Songbook for Young People by Dan Fox (1987)
I’ll admit, had you told me years ago that one day I would not only sing regularly to and with my children but enjoy a songbook, I would have laughed in your face, yet here we are, and I cannot recommend both singing with children, and singing from this book in particular, enough. Many of the songs included herein are well-known American or British “songs of childhood,” many of them folksongs — some very common, some less so, though I have found it easy enough to learn the ones unfamiliar to me — but what sets this title apart from other songbooks is the inclusion of images from The Metropolitan Museum of Art. (Yes, this is the second book published by the Met that I have covered. You can read about the other one in issue #14. I am a big fan of their children’s titles, if that’s not clear.) The songs are traditional — there are no pop songs of former eras (nothing from radio, TV, movies, or theater) and certainly nothing contemporary — and the art is similar. But whereas the songs are, as I have described, pretty much exclusively American or British, the art comes from countries as culturally diverse as Japan, Mexico, England, and Egypt, and spans thousands of years. In addition to singing these songs over and over (it’s old-fashioned, I know, but we have often sung them together with my mother and grandmother when they come for weekend breakfast, see below), we have looked at the images time and time again. If you’re willing to do something that once upon a time was a normal and regular part of a family life but has since not only fallen out of fashion but seemingly off the radar completely, if you have little ones (I think everyone secretly likes to sing no matter their age), keep your mind open and try this book. You may be surprised — ahem — how much you enjoy it.
(A great-grandmother/great-granddaughter sing-along: 📸 by my dear Jen Lucas)
That’s it for today, good people. Thanks for being here and thank you especially for continuing to put one foot in front of the other. You’re doing an amazing job.
If you want to read the archives, you can find them here. If you’d like to share this newsletter with someone (thank you if you do!), here’s the link to sign up.
XO ✌️