Be here now (this is the only bumpersticker I have on my car)
Be here now (this is the only bumpersticker I have on my car)
Can we read? No. 59
Hiya!
I’m about to embark on yet another 400-mile trip south but not before powering through a child’s orthodontist appointment, wrapping presents, a five-mile walk, picking up holds from the library, and packing for an extended car ride with two small people who experience time differently than the two big people in the car (the rule is that you cannot ask if we’re there yet until we’ve reached Chicago, the result of which is being asked, “Are we in Chicago?” every ten minutes until my husband’s face resembles that of Pig Won’t).
But I’m off work for the rest of the year and I have approximately 3,871 things to be grateful for — doing this is most definitely one of them — so I’m not complaining. (I’m not. Sometimes I like to list the varying levels of hullabaloo until it makes me laugh. And I also like to remind myself that, as the person who has been leading me through near-daily HIIT — not to mention life as a mother — for the last four and a half years wrote on Instagram last week: endurance is a polite reframe of survival mode, but it’s a worthy one.)
Whatever’s going on in your world right now I hope you are able to take a minute and be right here, in your one precious, amazing body, on this one precious, amazing planet where shark cannibalism in utero is an actual thing, as well as 12,000 distinct species of moss. Moss! Tomorrow I’m going to get in a hunk of metal on wheels that will propel me and my family, in a mere eight hours, from Madison, Wisconsin to Louisville, Kentucky. I mean some of my great-grandparents crossed America in a WAGON. And my kid is going to put a device in her mouth for nine months that will literally push apart her jaw — with no blood, no pain, just time and patience and plastic. Everything is not perfect, by any means — even considering perfection is laughable, not just in 2021, always — but just to exist right here, right now, is not something to be taken for granted, no matter how dark it may seem.
Also? My special offer of 50% off an annual subscription for one year is still available — but it expires tomorrow, so don’t wait!
Ditto for gift subscriptions — well, ditto that they are still available. The option of gift subscriptions has no expiration date (so if now is not the right time, there is always the future! Which I like thinking about: there is always the future.)
If you purchase a gift subscription and would like to have a physical object to tuck into an envelope or wrap, feel free to print this handy, official Can we read? PDF.
Sending much love your way today, people. Let’s do this.
Bravo Anjali! by Sheetal Sheth, illustrated by Lucia Soto (2021)
Anjali is a girl who loves playing tabla — small hand drums used in Indian music — and though it’s traditionally considered a boy’s instrument, Anjali excels at it. Still, as the only girl in her tabla class and one who outshines everyone else, at that, she draws the ire of her supposed friend, Deepak, who is critical of her “star student” status and whispers to their mutual friends about her even at school.
Finally, Anjali can’t take it anymore and she disappears into the bathroom to take deep breaths, only to find an empathetic fifth grader, Tina, whose inquiry into Anjali’s current state causes Anjali to erupt — her hurt, frustration, and subsequent negative self-talk explodes on the page. After she stops Tina tells her quietly, “Never dim your light, girl.”
These are just the words Anjali needs to hear. When it comes time to perform in the tabla class recital Anjali decides to do her best regardless of what Deepak or anyone else thinks — she finds strength in remembering her love for the music and makes up her mind not to “let anyone make her feel bad for being good at something.” Anjali’s performance is brilliant and, when Deepak apologizes for his behavior toward her, she accepts, inspiring a younger girl through her demonstration of both courage and heart.
There are a few spots where Sheth’s text doesn’t flow perfectly — it’s as if the scene in a movie has changed abruptly — but the story, especially complemented by Soto’s fresh, evocative digital illustrations, is strong nonetheless. I was a little worried that my kids would find this too didactic a tale but on first read they were absolutely riveted (and have asked to revisit it again and again).
The message here is very clear — that playing small never serves anyone; that we can and should go all out for our art, for the things that light us up and make us happy — and it’s surprising how good it feels for everyone to hear.
Little Bunny's Sleepless Night by Carol Ruth, illustrated by Valeri Gorbachev (1999)
I’ve said before that Valeri Gorbachev is one of those authors that has gone mostly unnoticed and it’s a shame, because his titles are simply the sweetest.
Little Bunny’s Sleepless Night is no exception. The little bunny in question is indeed a sweet little chap — he has no siblings, sleeps all by himself in his own little room, but sometimes he gets lonely. One night he determines what he needs is the company of a good friend.
He visits each of his darling friends who welcome him in turn, but just as he is settling in for the night, something happens to keep him awake and make him realize this isn’t the place for him — Squirrel cracks acorns for a middle-of-the-night snack, Skunk gets scared and accidentally sprays, Porcupine leaves quills in his bed, Bear snores as loud as thunder, and Owl stays up all night reading (which is how he got so wise — words cannot convey how charmed I am by this). Finally Little Bunny realizes that his own home is the best place to find the peace and quiet he needs for a good night’s sleep.
Gorbachev’s pen and watercolor illustrations pretty much don’t get any cuter than this — and sometimes it’s nice to read a book, so, well, nice. This is a winsome tale all around, full of kindness, generosity, and good friends.
Lucky Ducklings: A True Rescue Story by Eva Moore, illustrated by Nancy Carpenter (2013)
My older daughter brought Lucky Ducklings home from kindergarten two years ago after her weekly trip to the school library, and we read it so often over the seven days we had it that I ended up buying it lest we have to live without it. I can’t think of a better stamp of approval for a book than the kind of love that’s immediate and repetitive (difficult as that may be for grownups sometimes, or even often).
This is the true story of Mama Duck, who — along with her ducklings “Pippin, Bippin, Tippin, Dippin, and last of all, Little Joe” — goes out for a walk one morning only to experience a mother’s worst fear: as the family walks across a sewer grate, the little ones fall through the holes and disappear.
“That could have been the end of the story. But it wasn’t, because…” a human who saw this little disaster calls the fire department, and with the help of a good samaritan named Joe, the firefighters pull the grate from the concrete, climb into the hole, and rescue the startled (but unharmed) ducklings.
Moore based this tale on true events that occurred in June 2000 on Long Island, New York, but it’s clear to anyone who is familiar with Robert McCloskey’s classic Make Way for Ducklings that she is giving a nod to that iconic book in more ways than one (if you have a Make Way for Ducklings fan stop everything you are doing and order this book; you won’t regret it). Carpenter’s charcoal and digital illustrations give this a more modern feel than McCloskey’s, making them perfect companions on a shelf — and in little hearts.
This is a fun nonfiction read with just the right amount of suspense and reassurance of safety that works for toddlers, preschoolers, and yes, kindergarteners, all of whom will be eager — maybe more eager than you’d like 😉 — to enjoy this one on repeat.
Mythical Birds and Beasts From Many Lands by Margaret Mayo, illustrated by Jane Ray (1996)
These “tales from many lands” are exactly that, ranging from global sources as diverse as Greece, Egypt, China, Europe, Native America, Central America and Mexico, even Burma (this is what Mayo calls it despite the fact that Burma had changed its name to Myanmar seven years before this was published in 1996) and covering mythical beasts just as varied.
Mayo’s research from various folk, fairy tale, and mythologic sources (detailed in notes in the back) clearly informed her ability to handle these stories skillfully, writing on an intermediate level that would work for independent readers (even through middle school) but that holds up well to reading aloud to anyone older than preschool age, which is particularly gratifying because the topic of mythical beasts is one that, unlike, say, princesses, never gets old. Who isn’t curious about such creatures as Pegasus, mermaids, unicorns, the thunderbird, dragons, sea serpents and snakes, the Minotaur, the Naga, and the phoenix? (If you need convincing see J.K. Rowling’s kajillion dollar success with Harry Potter — my husband and I have discussed how much inspiration the worldwide pantheon of mythical beasts provided to Rowling’s imagination as she created her universe and the numerous monsters in it.)
To add to the pleasure of these mini-biographies, if you will, is Ray’s signature watercolor embellished with pencil, collage, and metallic ink, which never gets old in any of her work and serves to bring the thrilling nature of these beings to life here (her feathered snake, a tale about Quetzalcoatl and how music came to the world, is a sight to behold).
Did these creatures ever exist? Who’s to say? This is a unique and enjoyable collection perfect for anyone who loves reading — or hearing — about the mysterious and magical possibilities, either way.
Thanks for being here today. May you have eyes to see the precious and amazing things that you are, that you have, that surround you.
Sarah
Totally sending "Little Bunny's Sleepless Night" out into the world :) Thank you for this!