5 posts tagged “books”

Yes, I'm one of those overgrown kids who stood in line at midnight last Friday to buy the last installment of the HP series.  I didn't manage to stay up all night reading it, but I was finished by Sunday night/Monday morning.  I had hoped to savor it a little longer, but was terrified of being spoiled before I finished, so I drank extra caffeine and soldiered through.

I am completely happy with the book and would go so far as to say that it exceeded my expectations.  Sure, upon further analysis there will be some things that I have issue with or questions about, but on the whole I thought it was the most brilliant book of the series.

Enough vague praise.  What I really want to talk about are my favorite parts of the book.  The parts that made me actually laugh out loud (a rare occurence while reading) and the parts that made me cry (I've never cried while reading any previous HP books. Unless I stubbed my toe while reading or something...)

 

[Warning.  Possible eensy weensy spoilers may follow, so if you are a purist who has not finished, consider yourself warned.]

 

 

[I mean it.  Don't read this if you're going to get all pissed at me and blame me for ruining the book for you.]

 

 

I love that Professor Trelawney finally found a use for her crystal balls during the final battle.

I adore Molly Weasley's mama bear ferocity and that she was able to channel her grief into anger so productively.

I teared up at Percy's return. Never liked him, but loved his return.

And of course I did cry for Fred.  Not really for Fred, but for George and how horrible it will be to be a twinless twin.

I loved that Ron wanted to free the house elves and that's when Hermione finally made out with him.  And I really loved that it came at such a tense time.  I didn't expect to be laughing during such crucial and hectic events.

And the "Are you a wizard or what?" comment while they were all rooting around for a stick.  Hilarious

By far the most poignant and sad moment for me was when Harry found the letter his mom had written to Sirius.  While reading it, he realized he was seeing her handwriting for the first time and that they made their letter "G" the same way.  This made me cry more than any other scene in the book.  Probably because I can relate to losing a parent early in life and how your grief can change and freshen over time.  While my dad didn't die until I was 16, there was still a lot I didn't know about him, and I do often wonder about what we might have in common now that I'm an adult.  I cherish the things I know we share (musical ability, sense of humor); those are the last things that tie me to him and remind me of where I came from.  I never thought I would identify with Harry Potter of all people, but in that moment I really did.

Okay, sorry for my cheesy book report.  I'm starting my re-read soon (okay, okay, I've already started it) and I promise never again to get all fangirly on you.  But I'm just dying to talk to someone about the book and my 2 week old niece is the only one I can do so with, sans eyerolls....

When I was pregnant with Allie, one of the things I most looked forward to was reading her books.  I am a reading fanatic and have been known to read 7 books in as many days.  (It's an addiction. I'm not proud.)  I bought a complete set of Winnie the Pooh classic books from a used book store.  I bought "Pat the Bunny" even though I was unsure as to whether that was a command or a description.  I stocked Sandra Boynton, Audrey Wood, and pulled all my old books out of storage, dusted them off, and put them on a shelf. 

Of course, when she was a new baby, I realized that she wasn't all that into the books.  So I read aloud from my own books while rocking her to sleep.  Anna Karenina will put anyone to sleep, you know.  But once she was about 4 months old, I decided I'd try out a "real" kids book.  It was a beautiful Saturday in October.  I laid a blanket under the oak tree in my mom's back yard, getting the exactly perfect sun dappled position.  I donned a floaty white top and dressed up Allie in some velvet jeans with a matching hat, and set out to have a picturesque afternoon reading "A House at Pooh Corner"  from the box set I purchased for her when she was only a fetus.  Allie was completely unimpressed with my efforts.  She didn't even appreciate all the different British accents I donned for each different character.  I gave up when she started screaming and squirming and we went inside and had lunch instead.  I decided that maybe I shouldn't force books on her, and she'd come around one day.

She is nearly five now and has redeemed herself.  Our problem now, is limiting story time to only 2 books.  She'd rather have me read five.  And of course, some nights, I don't want to read "Hubert Horatio Bartle Bobten Trent" for the eleventieth time (for obvious reasons) (and although the book does have a sweet message and I highly recommend it) (and eww! Why am I using so many parentheses?)

And now Allie, who already looks alarmingly like me at that age, is beginning to act like me too.  She is fine with not reading a book as long as I will either a) answer every question posed under the sun, usually relating to how things are made or b) make up my own story.  And of course, since I'm a writer by trade, I get stumped.  The 4-year-old stumps me.

Last night, both Allie and Avery were piled in my queen-size (read: too small) bed because of a thunderstorm, and in an effort to get them to sleep, I made up the most boring, plodding story imaginable, told it in "Mommy Hypno-Voice" and just dragged it on for as long as possible.  It was about a singing cat.  The cat was riding a horse through beautiful, swishy grass and looking everywhere for his lost dog.  See?  It makes me drowsy just writing it.  The cat and horse lazily trotted to the park where they spoke to other sentient animals who might have seen their dog.  The frogs and fishies were fighting over flies, which I realized too late was too alliterative and funny to successfully make the children sleepy.  They began giggling, and then of course, I had to go and throw comedically inclined ducks into the mix.  I tried to rectify the situation by resolving the story quickly when they found the dog and he told them about a beautiful swishy napping tree, with shade and yummy smelling flowers and other en-drowsying stuff that I can't type for fear of having a narcoleptic fit.

At the end of my story, I thought the girls would be out for the night (it was midnight by now, incidentally) and I would be able to maybe, oh I don't know, take a shower?  It was, of course, not to be.  As soon as I finished my story, Avery chirped in her lovely voice "Now it's my turn!  Once upon a dime, in a land four way...."  Lord help me.  Her story involved a magical princess pony.  She went to look for some new shoes, but the lady at the mall was too  busy.  So the pony said "Fine! I don't want your shoes" and went to the mountains.

This is where it gets funny.  Allie has so far been quiet.  Avery begins to describe the mountains.  "The mountains were very very....." and Allie offered "Slippery!  The mountains were slippery!"

Avery flares her nostrils (I can't see this in the dark, but I know my own child.  There were flared nostrils.) and "Hmmphs" her disapproval at being interrupted.  I tell Allie that it's Avery's story and she needs to tell it by herself.  Avery continues.  "The mountains were very icy."

"Well ice is slippery," offers Allie.

"The mountains were icy, but not slippery and the pony didn't want to be ingerupted."

How, I ask you, do I stop laughing long enough to be a parent?  It's just not quite possible.  Avery ended her story, happily of course.  The pony found her shoes in the magical, non-slippery, mountain cave and was never "ingerupted" again.  Did I mention she is only three?  And she can already craft more riveting bedtime stories than I can. 

Book: Show us a book that made you laugh out loud.
Submitted by Red Pen.

This is the first one that comes to mind because it was such a painful laughter.  My mom gave this to me when I came home from the hospital after having Allie.  I laughed so hard that I pulled some stitches and peed on myself.  Not hard for a woman who has just delivered an 8 pound baby, but memorable nonetheless.

 

What makes me laugh when I'm not hungover from an epidural and high on painkillers? Any and everything by David Sedaris.  I'm not a laugh out lound kind of girl, but anything that has to do with David learning to speak French or eating at frou frou restaurants gives me the giggles everytime. 

Book: Show us a book you started reading but never finished.

I love what I've read so far (about half way through) but something always happens and I get busy with another project or book or something and I leave it so long that I need to start it from the beginning.  So I've read the beginning about 4 times.  I should at least get partial credit for that, right?

What are five books that changed your life? 
Inspired by Ms. Genevieve.

 

It's hard to narrow it down to only five.  I think each book changes my life a little while I'm reading it.  After Mom's aneurysm last year, I went on a rabid reading spree.  I read one book a day, minimum, for about a month.  I read to escape my present and did so voraciously.  I've grown up surrounded by books and each one holds not only the memory of the plot and characters within the covers, but also of the plot and characters in my life when I first read it.  (Yes, I re-read books.  No, I'm not ashamed.) 

 

I don't know that any books have changed my life drastically by changing my viewpoints, teaching me about myself, or exposing me to unknown worlds.  But there are a few that I can safely list as all-time favorites, and that's as close as I'll get to "life-changing."

 

And in no particular order, they are:

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.

I was 10 when my Mom bought me this book.  I read it over and over and thought it was the cleverest and funniest piece of literature in existence.  I quickly memorized all of my favorite poems and would recite them before imaginary audiences in my bedroom, using my bed as a stage, and a hairspray bottle for a microphone.  I liked to recite them several different ways.  I'd initially perform them as intended.  Then I'd change it to a sad interpretation, or an angry one.  Then, of course, I'd have to perform them in a British accent.  I also honed my New Jersey accent in these recitations.  Which I eventually used in my breakout performance in the Sequoyah Elementary School production of "Radio Station K-I-D-S" in which I starred as the airheaded receptionist "Marilyn Maniken". Is it a bad thing that I can still remember a lot of my dialogue from that play?

 

 

Pretty Much Anything by Dean Koontz.

NO.  I do not like Dean Koontz.  Unfortunately, by the ripe age of 13, I have read everything written by Stephen King at the moment, and so naturally segued into Dean Koontz.  The books held my attention long enough to find something more substantive to read, but I never really quite liked them.  It wasn't until I was about 25 that I figured out why: Dean Koontz is a horrible writer.  His pacing is awkward, his characters flimsy, and his plots problematic.  He's good at the suspense, I'll give him that.  But the rest just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  The only redeeming quality in his books are that they give me hope that if he can actually get a book published, then maybe one day I can too.

 

 

The Merck Manual by Lots of Smart Doctors

I'm not a hypochondriac, I'm just really, really fascinated by the medical arts. And infections diseases.  And drug interactions.  And just really all things medical that don't involve patient care.  I received my Merck as a gift for my 21st birthday, and I think it was my absolute very favorite present.  I opened it up to a page at random and immediately stumbled across some strange skin affliction that I could not possibly ever be afflicted with.  And that was supremely comforting.  At the moment, I cannot find Mercky, and that is alarming me more than it really should.  Emedicine.com is great, but it doesn't compare to the heft and weight of good ol' Merckalicious, with his rough beige paper and the spine that cracks when I bend the pages back to get a better look at that footnote referring me to the page about neuroblastomas.

 

 

 

You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers

My last boyfriend introduced me to the work of Dave Eggers.  I hadn't heard of him before then, because he wasn't stocked in the children's section of the bookstore, which is the only place I had bought books in the three years previous.  This book was my welcome back to adulthood and I read it when I was resuming my career after being a SAHM for three years.  His voice is very unique and engaging.  I prefer this book to his other better known book "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius", probably because it's the first one I read.  Apparently, the paperback version features an interlude in the middle of it, that wasn't included in the hardcover edition.  Without that interlude, I don't know if I would have liked the book as much as I did.  So extra points to me for lucking out on buying this one.

 

Life Application Study Bible by Various

Because my Grandma would smack me down if I didn't include the Bible here.  And trust me, you don't want to mess with my Grandma.  But really, when your grandparents are missionaries, it's impossible to not have at least one Bible.  I have a collection including Bibles passed down from family members, one in Spanish, and I hope to inherit our family Welsh Bible someday in the distant future.  Meanwhile, I totally dig this one.  There is a plethora of historical information, maps, definitions, a complete index of sin and/or virtues.  I get sidetracked reading it because there is so much information other than just the Biblical text.  It's fun.  There, I said it.  My Bible is fun.