Book Report: Anne of Green Gables

I can't believe I haven't blogged for a week. I'm so sorry. That doesn't fit at all with my New Year's resolution to blog five days a week. But then again, I'm also not following my New Year's resolution to lose 20 pounds and I've already missed three days of flossing so apparently since my resolutions are shot to hell for '09 I can just skip blogging and feel OK about it.

So, as you know, I'm in Ohio. Eating. I can't blog because my fingers are too fat.

Just kidding. Just because my rings will not longer slide off and on easily doesn't mean cause for too much alarm. Or does it?

Anyway, we've been having a great time and one thing I've been doing here is reading and continuing to work on my Summer of Juvenile Literature. I have discovered that I'm a much slower reader than in bygone years. Either that or my children don't actually want me to be literate any longer because they constantly want me to pay attention to them versus reading.

What a pain.

So I discovered something last week. If I take the kids to the park when there are likely to be many other children there, they begin playing with said children and sometimes I can read for stretches of two and even three minutes without having someone scream, "Mooooooommmmmyyyyy!"

It's very excellent.

And so, with the park strategy in place, I was able to finish Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

I never read these books growing up. Frankly, I thought they were about a prissy English girl. Imagine my surprise, then, when I found that Anne was from Canada, eh? Prince Edward Island to be exact.

Basically, I want to live there now.

I had trouble getting started. Anne is an incessant talker so the book is written in a stream of consciousness style that follows Anne's thoughts, which are all over the place. I found this annoying. But then I realized you all put up reading my stream of consciousness style on a daily basis so I decided to cut Anne some slack and keep reading. Also, my cousin, Cinda, said Anne would grow on me and to keep reading.

I did. Because I try to obey orders.

And I'll be darned if Wednesday afternoon didn't find me sitting at Orange Township Park, the park near our old house that the boys loved (they call it the Orange Fish Park) and crying, yes people, crying, over the ending of Anne of Green Gables.

I know, I know. I can hardly believe it myself. But there I was, nonetheless.

I won't spoil the ending because I know there are. . .I don't know. . .like, maybe one of you who will now race out and read Anne of Green Gables and it's such a bummer if the ending is ruined by some plot spoiler like myself.

The short version of the story though is that Anne is an orphan who is adopted by a very unlikely twosome--spinster Marilla Cuthbert, and her also unmarried brother, Matthew (And, I would like to ask here, why is there not an equally unattractive name for a never-married man like there is for a never-married woman? Spinster? It's so hideous.). Marilla and Matthew are actually expecting to adopt a boy and by mistake, a girl, Anne, arrives. But they decide to keep Anne and the story follows their lives for five years, focusing on the crazy predicaments Anne tends to get herself into. Which made me laugh out loud several times. It was kind of like reading about Finn (and occasionally myself), in many respects.

The "old fashionedness" of the book really appealed to me. Although I'm convinced I should have been born in Jane Austen's time (all those empire waists hide big thighs), I could also picture myself in this early 1900s time period. The entertainment was all about socializing, putting on programs at the town halls, sleigh rides, going to town, etc. OK, so I actually hate socializing and I'd be more like Marilla and sit home and then hear the details when the young 'uns returned, but I liked reading about it. I imagined my grandparents' youths being much like this.

So, there you have it. I loved it. It was just a sweet, sweet book. And the same day I finished it I made Mom drive me to the library to get the second book: Anne of Avonlea.

Nancy Drew has taken a backseat for the time being.

Book Report: Caddie Woodlawn

I finally finished a book in my Summer of Reading Juvenile Literature. Good grief. I thought I'd be whipping through a book every three days or so and instead it has taken me 3 1/2 weeks to get through Caddie Freaking Woodlawn. This doesn't bode well for my list of at least 100 books this summer. I might have to extend the Summer of Reading Juvenile Literature to become the Decade of Reading Juvenile Literature at this rate.

Basically, I found that I'd hop into bed each night, get myself all propped up on my pillows, water cup at the ready, settled in comfortably in my jammies. . .and then I'd read about three sentences before falling asleep with the book usually falling forward and whacking me on the bridge of my nose. I don't know how people sit down and read giant books in one sitting. A) I'd never stay awake, or B) The small residents of this house wouldn't allow giant chunks of time whereby a Long Reading could actually take place.

But I'm finished with a book, and that's the important thing.

And here is my best attempt at a book report as I recall writing them in elementary school.

Title: Caddie Woodlawn
Author: Carol Ryrie Brink
Illustrated by: Trina Schart Hyman
Awards: John Newberry medal in 1936

Set in the 1860s, Caddie Woodlawn is the story of an 11-year-old girl (who is quite a tomboy)--Caroline "Caddie" Woodlawn. Caddie lives with her family in Wisconsin. The book talks about her rural life with her family, including interactions with the local Indian tribe. It's a sweet book and I really enjoyed it. I really like all of that pioneer stuff. The author was Caddie's granddaughter who wrote down the stories as her grandmother recited them to her growing up.

Of course, I couldn't help comparing this book with the Little House series. They were written about the same time, although the Little House books begin a decade or so after Caddie's story.

Brink's writing style is very different from Laura Ingalls Wilder's writing style. Brink uses more dialogue where Wilder's is more of a narrative (at least that's what I remember. I might be pulling that out of my. . .hair. Heck, I don't even know what a narrative style is. I just made that up. And supposedly I'm a writer. I'm just trying to say Laura Ingalls Wilder writes without a lot of dialogue. Doesn't she? Maybe I'm hallucinating.)

Bottom line: I liked Caddie Woodlawn. Wikipedia says there's a sequel, but I think I'll wait to read it until the Second Summer of Reading Juvenile Literature. I estimate that will take place when I'm 83 at this rate.

Next book: Nancy Drew--The Secret of the Old Clock. And Cinda, you'll be happy to know that after Nancy Drew, I have Anne of Green Gables all ready to go.

The Book Jam

My nightstand, the area next to the nightstand, and under my bed have all become a book repository. I love to read, but I'm apparently pretty schizophrenic with my reading habits.

Occasionally I get a book and read it straight through and return it to the library or whoever loaned it to me, but more often than not I have multiple books going at once. I was curious as to what the ongoing book list looks like in black and white.

I'm actively reading:
Scarpetta, by Patricia Cornwell
A Breath of Snow and Ashes, by Diana Gabaldon (for the second time, getting ready for her next book because there are so many characters I can't remember them all)
Love and Respect, by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs

I started reading, but have temporarily stopped reading:
Sensational Kids, by Lucy Jane Miller--I did get through most of it
Trinity, by Leon Uris--good grief, what was I thinking?
A History of London, by Stephen Inwood--I was all into reading about it before one of our trips and so Tara gave it to me for Christmas. I got to page xvi in the forward and became overwhelmed.
Nights of Rain and Stars, by Maeve Binchy--one of my fave authors so I don't know why it's taking me so long

I keep meaning to read (some of these are books people have loaned me and I've kept them for a rudely long time):
The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant
Natural Cures They Don't Want You to Know About, Kevin Trudeau
More Natural Cures They Don't Want You to Know About, Kevin Trudeau
London, by Edward Rutherford--Theresa loaned this to me years ago
Finn MacCool, by Morgan Llywelyn--also from Theresa
The Trouble With Boys, by Peg Tyre
Simple Abundance, by Sarah Ban Breathnach
Portrait of a Killer, Patricia Cornwell (I might be too scared to read that)
Parenting with Love & Logic, probably too late for that one
Between Parent and Child, ditto
On Becoming Childwise, we did Babywise and apparently I never read the sequel
Diana, by Andrew Morton (Melaney, have you been looking for it?)
How Israel Was Won, by Baylis Thomas--my dad says this will help me understand the conflict in the Middle East. . .if possible.
What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Premenopause, by John R. Lee, M.D.--because it's about that time.
An Irish Country Doctor, by Patrick Taylor--yet another one I have from Theresa who is probably going to turn me in to the book police.
Mistress of the Sun, by Sandra Gulland--Eamonn got it at a silent auction and I was all like, "Hey, I can't wait to read that. . ."
The Melaleuca Wellness Guide, came free, I think, with an order, but like all things, I can't just shelve it.
Boyhood and Beyond, by Bob Schultz. Came free with a Timberdoodle order when I ordered a bunch of games to teach logic. I can't figure out any of the games to teach the boys.

Then I have a whole bag of magazines from nearly years ago that require actual reading vs. scanning, like I can do with People. No, these are magazines like Cooking Light, which I don't get anymore because I became overwhelmed by trying to keep up with them. For a year I received it, but never had time to read it. But I can't seem to get rid of them. So, I have this plan that one day I'll have a Reading Day and go through them all, cut out the recipes I want to keep and then just recycle the mags. Then my conscience will be clear.

I had thought Reading Day would be this spring. Now I'm targeting fall. And as for all of the unread books? I'm guessing 2020.

What I'll Be Doing This Weekend

Brain Crack

One of my dirty little secrets is that I read People magazine. I know, I know. Appalling. My brother-in-law says it's like crack for your brain. (Note: But I think when I take the back issues to my sister, he reads them). And I have to confess, I love that crack and I can't stop reading it. I'm addicted.

People is supposed to arrive on Fridays. But it rarely does out here because we apparently still use the Pony Express several days a week. Often it doesn't arrive until Saturday. In a worst case scenario, it doesn't arrive until Monday. That makes me very, very cranky. But when it does arrive on a Friday, I feel giddy with excitement. I'm shallow that way. I need my People fix.

In fact I get a little obsessive about it. Eamonn loves to recount this story: Years ago People arrived and I was saving it to read in bed. At bedtime, I set it carefully on the bed while I went to brush my teeth and wash my face. When I returned, Eamonn was reading People and would not surrender it. I started crying. I'm guessing I had severe PMS at the time. At least I hope that's what it was.

Where would I be without People? I wouldn't know anything about pop culture anymore, and we all know how important that is. I wouldn't know what the cast of Gossip Girl is up to. I've never watched the show, but no matter. I wouldn't know why Guy and Madonna got divorced or that Brad and Angelina are planning to adopt again, or any of the innermost secrets that Hollywood's denizens have revealed about them from "a source close to the star."

I rationalize this guilty pleasure by telling myself that I have to read so much accounting and auditing information for clients that I DESERVE to know who admits to having plastic surgery and who is just genetically better off than the rest of us. And I ponder the accuracy of what I read. I ask my friend who's an actor in LA if this stuff is true. She laughs and says, "I'm reading the same tabs you are! But it does seem like everything always ends up being true in the end."

Must run. I need to go and read the truth about Tom Cruise's family. I can't go to sleep until I know.