Maybe this falls into the TMI category, but I wear socks at night. My tootsies get cold, and cold tootsies prevent a good night’s sleep. However, having cold feet and being accused of having cold feet have two very different meanings.
The scene: Two soldiers from the 19th century are standing around on the battlefront and they are freezing cold, like most soldiers in winter.
“So, Joe, are you as cold as I am?”
“Yeah, my nose is cold, my ear lobes are cold. I think my eyelashes are frozen.”
“Mine too. I think my toes are frozen.”
“You got cold feet? You should report that. I hear they’re letting us out if we got cold feet. Can’t fight if you’ve got cold feet, you know.”
“You’re right. Thanks for the tip. You know I could see how this could be considered an excuse for not standing your ground and fighting.”
“Yeah, I can see your point, Horace. Cold feet, cold courage. Whoa, look lively–incoming. Remind me to loan you a pair of extra socks. The missus sent me some handmade woolies in the last package.
“You’re a real buddy, Joe.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Well, maybe Joe and Horace could have had a similar conversation standing around in some frozen field as they stood around soldiering.
Cold feet. I still hear that expression today. That reluctance to do something because we are a bit nervous, or lack that needed chutzpah to grab the opportunity does seem to create a coldness in our extremities. I don’t think wool socks always is the solution either.
Letizia’s banner image invites readers to open a book and fall in love with reading
Book Boosters are those who place reading right up there with breathing. Yup, for some, reading and breathing is pretty essential Letizia is definitely a Book Booster because she reads , reads, reads. Pop onto her “About Me” page and this is what you’ll find:
I read in cafes, in my garden, in buses, in airplanes, at the kitchen table, at work, in parks, in bed, in the tub, in the doctor’s waiting room, in hotel lobbies, in trains, in restaurants, waiting for the electrician, during a snowstorm, and when I can’t sleep. I still haven’t mastered the art of walking and reading without looking up from my book, but I hope to one day.
university professor, translator, editor, workshop coordinator (and lover of all dogs!)
languages: French, English, Italian, some Portuguese
Her posts are thoughtful and thought-provoking. Take for instance her post on last sentences. In a playful interactive manner she encourages her readers to grab their fave novel and look up the last sentence and reflect upon it. I pulled out my beloved To Kill a Mockingbird, the 1960 issue with the nondescript green tree branch on brown background cover (talk about don’t judge a book by its cover). Letizia’s little exercise reminded me why I adore Harper Lee’s novel and why it is so enduring. This is why I follow her. And I hope you will too.
As a blogger, I always appreciate responses to my own posts, and Letizia faithfully adds her comments. We all appreciate comments, don’t we?
Thanks, Letizia for your Book Boostering, comments, and worthwhile posting.
Confession: I am a reformed annoying little sister. One of my annoying habits involved sneaking into my brother’s room and get into his stuff. When he wasn’t looking, I crept into his room and stole furtive sneak reads of his comic book collection. He fussed quite loudly whenever he caught me, but I couldn’t resist. What little girl could resist feasting on Disney comics, for those were my brother’s faves. He mainly bought Uncle Scrooge along with those mini-comic books (comics are actually magazines not books, if you think about it).
Uncle Scrooge made sense to me as a kid–I saw through his skinflinty ways and saw a softie. Image: wikipedia
My comic passion ignited I am hooked and remember summer afternoons binging on comic book reads with friends in our backyard. Years pass and my brother graduates and I move on from Disney to Peanuts to Archie and the gang. Flash forward and I’m in college and I’m still reading cartoons, although they are now sophisticated commentary: Doonesbury.
From Doonesbury I easily switched to Far Side and Calvin and Hobbes and Zits. I introduced my own kiddos to the joy of comics, buying the big treasury collections which I read as well. They didn’t bat an eye about their mother reading a Better or for Worse collection with her own bowl of cereal in the morning.
Cereal and comics–best times. Image: stockfreeimages.com
Oh yeah, in high school my research paper was “What’s So Funny About the Comics?” I wrote about the history of the comics from their beginnings clear up to modern-day offerings. I prefer Snoopy over Garfield any day.
This weekend my youngest progeny visited for his monthly Mom Meal. I dragged him along on errands, one of which being the library. Besides picking up a couple of movies we picked up some books. Actually that’s an understatement. We staggered out of the library with mixture of graphic novels (Beowulf rocks), Herge Tin Tins, Marvel Encyclopedias, Batman, Zombie stuff, and DMZ. About twenty books. My son, who is all grown up, living on his own, and is a responsible adult, holed up on the couch the rest of the afternoon and feasted on his found treasures.
Forget surfing the Internet–surf through a comic book instead! Image: slj.com
I’m okay with that. I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I was, wouldn’t I? Reading comic books didn’t warp my mind, didn’t ruin my kiddos to read “real” books and I’m quite glad to see them legitimized and sitting on their own shelf in the library.
Anyone else still reading the comics page? I only wish I could manage to do so without feeling so silly to see how Luann is doing these days when I’m in the staff room.
Recently I attended a writing conference and I will freely admit I attended primarily because I knew my time had arrived. Yes, this time I would be discovered. My critique editor would be so impressed with my submission that she would pat the chair next to her and state, “I’ve waited all day to finally meet you. I adore this * points to my pages* and we need to talk about contracts.”
This, of course, did not happen and I doubt it will. Or if it does I hope the actual moment will not be as corny as my version.
I didn’t always used to be conference goer. I used to be a conference nayer. “Pfft–I don’t need to spend money, drive miles, and sit and listen to people who have made it. I have my books and magazines to tell me what I need to know.” That’s me turning down a suggestion to attend a SCBWI conference. My critique group sagely retorted, “You go because it’s all about networking.” And she was right. Making connections is primary, and gaining knowledge is secondary for me.
When conference invites drop into my mailbox I first check the line up–who is going to be there? Getting to hear a favorite or well-known author or to glean industry insights from a respected editor, publisher, or agent might entice me to reach for the calendar. Yet, what gets me actually going to the conference is the critique, having the opportunity to learn and to receive an assessment of my writing from an industry professional. If I can get a renowned publisher, editor, or agent to look over my work and get their attention for 12 minutes, I’m all in. Critiques range in price and my pocketbook can handle the $60 variety, which translates to roughly $5.00 a minute . I consider this a good value since I willingly pay a dollar a minute for my ten minute chair massage at the farmer’s market. Both are invigorating focused sessions, yet only one is beneficial towards my career.
Once at the conference I diligently sit through the various speakers, deftly mining worthy industry nuggets. Admittedly I’m only half tuned into the program because I keep glancing at my at my watch after continually rechecking my critique appointment slip. Bad form, really. It would be much better to relax and relish while waiting.
This year I did do just that.
My appointment was probably the last one of the day which meant I needed to pass the time. I actually decided to really listen to the speaker presentations and not just flick through the bin of offered treasure trove of advice but to really savor the meal before me. Yes,a muddle of metaphors. As for the actual conference I had a productive meeting with a publisher of a respected, well-known publishing house. She liked my approach, style, and even appreciated my humorous bits in the manuscript. She had prepared an amazing critique page–the best organized I’ve ever received. No, she did not offer a contract. However, she did hand me her personal business card and invited me to send my proposal for another project to her directly *no slush pile*. And she said I could resubmit the piece she had critiqued. Better than six chair massages, I’d say.
So, if are on the fence about attending a writing conference I would give you a bit of a nudge and so “Zip out the credit card and go absorb and mingle and learn.”
Oh–I would appreciate some good thoughts towards the project I just emailed her. Having just received a rejection for a manuscript, I wouldn’t mind some good news around the corner.
How can you not want to read a blog with this as its banner?
This is Mike Allegra, aka HeyLookAWriterFellow. Think of Steve Martin and Billy Crystal as children’s book writers. A little scary but Mike promises he keeps it clean. In fact he insists on it, even though he has been known to trot out some potty jokes now and then. Besides writing an absolutely this-is-really-funny stuff blog, he is a very talented writer, doodler, and all around good guy. He loves to show off his cute kid, who I need to figure out how to bribe so he’ll pull my entry out of the next doodle hat round.
I don’t even know how I found Mike’s blog. I think we started frequenting the same blogs with our commentary and I popped in. Mike and I now banter until I get him to cry “uncle, already.” Yes, Mike, I am keeping score. But I should stay on his good side because I am really hoping to get a cow on a pogo stick doodle out of him one of these days. And, no–this is not a butter up attempt. There have been at least three blog spotlights prior to Mike (I’m going by who trades the most comments with me or who I’ve known the longest in the blogosphere).
So, if you are looking to connect with a talented published children’s author, or like witty writing, or hope to win a doodle (there is a batch of us petitioning for him to run his doodle drawings at least once a month) you need to pop in and visit Mike, who is more than just another writer fellow.
You do have a library card, right? I actually have around four: local, adjacent community, university, and former–I just might visit there someday. I have more library cards than credit cards, and I’m glad of that.
September is back to school and it makes sense to also designate the month as Library Card Month. As students get into the routine of going back to school, getting them into the routine of going to the library is just as important as having sharpened pencils and a dependable pen.
To twist an old selling point: “The Library Card. Don’t leave home without it.”
Returning school goes beyond getting back into a routine because it means I also have to make adjustments to my practicing for retirement. No more rolling over and going back to sleep, no more schlepping around in jammies, no more naps, no more odd eating hours, or meals for that matter. And worst of all, no more diving into books for an entire day and barely coming up for air. Responsible English teachers don’t partake in any of the above behaviors. At least not during the school year. Yet, summer vacation does allow me to practice the art of retirement and one of those skills is thoroughly enjoying a really good read. I was fortunate this year and enjoyed more than my usual share of good reads:
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Breathtaking in its flow and style, I absolutely devoured Doerr’s novel about two lost children. Set in WWII, Doerr portrays the war in a way I’ve not encountered before. One perspective is through the blind eyes of Marie, a young French girl whose indomitable spirit carries her beyond the war’s cruelties. The other perspective is that of Werner, a German youth whose talents land him in the Hitler Youth. The parallel stories eventually telescope down to a satisfying denouement. Doerr, already an award-winning author, will do doubt increase his presence with this amazing tale of how the spirit can overcome its surroundings.
Mr. Penumbra’s 24 Hour Book Store by Robin Sloan
Sometimes I simply have to take a break from the pedantic pace of classics, or step away from serious literary excursions. Mr. Penumbra helped me to once again find the wit in wordsmithing. This foray into classic literature name dropping reminds me of Jasper Fford’s Thursday Next series, which is a delight in how it metafictionally pokes fun at how serious we tend to take our literature. Robin Sloan not only lovingly jabs at academia, he embraces our wanderings over to the dark side of technology via Google (those villains). Yet, bad guys (technology) aren’t so bad, once you understand them, and often they prove helpful overall because they are just misunderstood.
Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
My first introduction to Ishiguro and of the three novels I read of his over the summer, this one is certainly the best in my opinion. The voice of nationalistic pride and misguided directive is so artfully penned in this memoir of a proper English butler. The bonus being how well the film adaptation captured the slow realization of how corrupted Steven’s outlook was after all.
The Mockingbird Next Door by Marja Mills
As a TKAM devotee I jumped on ordering Mills’s account of her time with Harper Lee faster than freckles popping out during a July heat wave. Lee has become such a recluse over the years it has been feared this national treasure will leave little behind in way of knowing who she really was. Fortunately Marja Mills went beyond her journalistic assignment and got to know Harper Lee as friend and neighbor allowing fans and readers a delightful glimpse into what Scout might have been like in the real.
The Push Cart War by Jean Merrill
This cannot possibly be a kids’ book! The wit is droll in delivery and its lampooning so adroit I don’t see how children could appreciate it fully. Maybe I’m only bereft in my opinion since I missed this one growing up. I think I got sidelined by Encyclopedia Brown. Just like The Phantom Tollbooth or Alice in Wonderland is not strictly for children, neither is Merrill’s classic. I’m ever so glad I found it and I made up for lost time.
image: Wikipedia
One Whole and Perfect Day by Judith Clarke. A Printz Honor Award
YA reads are hit and miss for me. There tend to be riveting and noteworthy like Hunger Games and Divergent or fall into high school drama–been there done that and see it everyday. Now and then I do get to pick up a YA which should be in what I call the YA+ category, meaning it’s more towards literary then temporal contemporary (I think it has lasting merit, not trendy, and an adult shouldn’t be embarrassed reading it). Clarke’s novel concerning a girl’s desire to have one day where her family is not dysfunctional fills that YA+ bill. Set in Australia, Lily does indeed have an odd family and what is even more odd is Clarke’s approach to the Point of View–it’s omnipotent, which has fallen out of favor. With almost Dickensian flair for characters and situations, Clarke provides a plot that slowly builds to the becoming a whole and perfect story–pretty nearly.
What’s really the wonder of these summer reads is that they were all recommends found on blogs I perused. Following other Book Boosters definitely has its benefits and I no longer have to forlornly drift the stacks hoping to uncover the newest hot read or find a lost treasure.
How about you? Any really good reads found and savored over the summer? Any great recommends discovered while catching up on your blogs?
Perhaps it’s because I’m basically an old-fashioned kind of girl that I tend to toss out old phrases like “don’t count your chickens,” “look before you leap,” along with one of my catch alls: “six of one, half dozen of another.” I tend to add that one in when there is a stalemate to a discussion. I can see there is more than one way to approach a matter so for argument’s sake I acknowledge we agree to disagree.
I then realized there truly is a different way to see and do a lot of things which can head up some fairly heated debates. For instance:
Storing glasses: rim down or rim up in the cupboard?
Shoes and socks: put socks on first and then shoes or one sock one shoe one at a time?
Chilled water: store water in the fridge or water and cubes as needed?
Bedsheets: pattern down or pattern up?
Swimming: dash in or bit by bit?
And the age old toilet paper controversy
Over or under: click here for the definitive debate
Can you add your own “see it two ways” to the list?
I grew up with Reading Rainbow. Well, kinda sorta. The MEPA and I were fairly strict about television (that and we didn’t want to pay for cable) and pretty much the only TV the kiddos watched came via PBS programming. Reading Rainbow won out over Sesame Street and Mister Rogers. I didn’t want the television to be their babysitter so I would plunk myself down on the couch with them and we would relish our R&R time together.
image: geocaching.com “Take a look. It’s in a book. Reading Rainbow.”
The Grammy Award winning program aired from 1983 to 2009–that’s a lot of books! Levar Burton became as recognized and as trusted as Big Bird and Mr. Rogers in guiding children towards enrichment.
When Reading Rainbow went off the air, the world seemed a bit dimmer. Even though I hadn’t watched the show for years since the progeny grew up and moved to other entertainment *sniff* I still nurtured a soft spot for Levar’s brand of book boostering; if an episode aired and I happened to have the time I would watch it. With the passing of Reading Rainbow I thought “Well, there goes that wish.” You see, I harbored the secret wish of writing a book that might be selected as a Reading Rainbow feature read.
All is not lost, because Levar has fulfilled one of his secret wishes and has purchased the Reading Rainbow brand and is creating an app for this generation. He initially hoped to raise one million dollars on Kickstarter–that amount was achieved in only one day. He recently ended his campaign with a staggering amount of over five million dollars.
For more information go directly to the website. I’m looking forward to introducing Reading Rainbow to the grandkiddo. Heck, I might download the app for myself.
Are you nostalgic for a little Reading Rainbow. Check this out:
Or maybe this one:
It’s easy to see Reading Rainbow made an impact on one generation. I foresee its impact on this one.
STOP: SPOILER ALERTS for the following
Never Let Me Go
The Island
Moon
I, Robot
Oblivion
Frankenstein
Robocop
“Four legs real, fake legs baaaad.” image: nature.com
What is this fascination with the humanity aspect of clones or artificial intelligence? Why do we want to inject a soul into something man has created? Or a more defined question is: why do we explore whether man-made creations have a soul?
Is it guilt? Afterall, creation is best handled by the Creator, the One who has the Master Plan. That statement could incite a whole firestorm of commentary in itself, which is fine, but I’m really after the literary and even film aspect of cloning/artificial intelligence.
For instance, having just finished Never Let Me Go by Ishiguro, I began thinking about other cloning works: The Island,Moon, Oblivion, and while there are other aspects attached to these films, the main takeaway: “cheated.” The clones are cheated because even though they look human, act human, they are not, which becomes a matter of concern because there is an investment of empathy for these characters, yet part of me says “Wait! They aren’t real.” I feel cheated because I am tricked (seemingly) into believing and caring about something I inherently don’t subscribe to: cloning.
Have you ever tasted imitation crab? Once–thank you very much. Looks like (mostly), tastes like it (kind of), smells like (a bit), same texture (not really). After being duped into eating it I came away with the same feeling: cheated.
Duplicating sheep, crab, humans–it’s not the same, and can never be. I believe in science; I do not subscribe to Luddite philosophies, but there are moral boundaries and these boundaries keep reappearing in novels and films as guilt and even revulsion. Why?
I think we try to justify the curiosity to recreate human life through the compassion for the Creature, as in the case of Frankenstein. The Wretch had initial goodness until it met up with repeated rejection. However, Shelley pointed out the disastrous results of man attempting to recreate man.
We root for Tom Cruise (Oblivion) and Sam Rockwell (Moon) as clones, only because we thought they were human. Upon realization they were clones I immediately reneged my emotional investment–I had been cheated, someone had switched in that imitation crab.
I have no problem with robots though. The A.I. component works for me. I liked R2D2, who didn’t? And Sonny, from I, Robot? A charmer. They were machines with heart; they did not have a soul. Machines are machines. On the other hand, that fuzzy line is not so warm and fuzzy when it comes to cloning: Humans with no soul? Are these simply sophisticated machines with feelings?
Which brings me to my latest Ishiguro read, Never Let Me Go. Having heard raves about it, and having read two other of his novels, I looked forward to this particular one. Ishiguro’s style of unreliable first person narrative and undercurrent, deceptively complex plot is very much evident. It wasn’t until about halfway through I realized I’d been cheated. Here I thought Ruth, Kathy, and Tommy were victims of a cruel government experiment, only to discover (oh so subtly) they are clones. Dissapointment. I finished the novel, although I felt a detached flatness. No joy in that one. I did feel a resonance with Robocop, but then has man trapped in a machine. And even though he was mostly machine I rooted for him because people I can relate to–fake crab, not.
Anyone else have thoughts on cloning in literature in regards to character empathy?
Pam Webb 