Book Note: The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries by Marilyn Johnson

This is how the conversation with my husband started:

Me: I’m reading a book about the readers and writers of obituaries.

Hubby: Oh, did you know the Obit writer at the Charlotte Observer recently passed?

Me: I actually had heard something along those lines.

Hubby: You should read her obits. She wrote one for herself in advance, and it is completely different from the one that her colleagues published for her.

So, I did. Geraldine Hostetler wrote her own obituary in an expectedly personal style but with the advantage of being able to discuss her life through her own eyes. Her colleagues offered an obituary with their perspective and remembrances of her life and contributions – specifically in the newsroom. Both were fitting tributes but distinctly different.

And that’s essentially what Marilyn Johnson captures in her book The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries. An obituary aficionado, Johnson clearly loves her subject and delves into the writing with the expert combination of an experienced researcher and master storyteller. She talks shop with other obit readers and writers and highlights the nuances of the profession in this book: should they be sentimental or straightlaced; of famous people only or relishing the lives lived by locals; and what exactly is the most appropriate way to cover mass deaths such as those after 9/11, the London bombings of 2005, or the tsunami of 2004?

Photo from Amazon.com

Her interviews take her to obituary writers around the globe sharing their secrets. How do they conduct interviews with survivors that elicit telling and memorable stories? Who do they read or not read? How did they get started in a position that many would deem the end of their career? And how did they end up loving their work? Her excitement is evident throughout but not in an overbearing, obituary-cheerleader sort of way. She knowingly refers to the heavy hitters in the industry: The New York Times, The Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, Daily Telegraph, Guardian, Independent, and The Times; but, she also includes perspectives from the Philadelphia Inquirer, Oregonian, Toronto Star, Boston Globe,  Globe and Mail, and several others. I wasn’t completely convinced of her inclusivity until she brought in The Economist, which features one tribute in each issue (and the one “obit” section I am somewhat familiar with).

It was a quick read on a subject completely unfamiliar to me, and I didn’t resent that it had inserted itself into my TBR pile in front of a book I was currently enjoying. So, take note, “It’s the best time ever to read obituaries, and I’m here to tell you, it’s a great time to die (p.12).”

***

Me: What would you want in your obituary?

Hubby (in all seriousness): The usual I guess, good man, loving father, good husband…but it would have to be funny. It would just kill me if it wasn’t.

I’m Game: For the Love of Reading

Here’s a bit of weekend fun, but first let me take you through the reading trail. I found this exercise going on at Wanton Creation. He referenced two other blogs as the inspiration for the game: mywithershins and J. Keller Ford. From this noble trail of readers comes a fun way to celebrate reading and it’s many sources.

Here’s how you “play”:

1. Grab the book physically closest to you. (I’m not judging. Trust me, based on my options, anything is fair game!)

2. Open it up to page 60.

3. Find the sixth sentence on that page.

4. Post this sentence in the comments section below this post. Don’t tell us the source right away to see if anyone can guess it. Have some fun,  share some reading, and check out a few other great blogs for more reading inspiration.

5. If you’d like to keep the game going on your own blog, be sure to mention the blog reading trail that led you to the game so we can all see who’s playing!

Here’s my quote:

“The writer, Cathy Horyn, had listed Perkins’s sons, Osgood and Elvis, as survivors, then added an update on Berry’s lifestyle: ‘In recent years, Ms. Perkins spent time in Jamaica, where she ran a beachfront bar with her boyfriend.’”

This is in the non-fiction genre, and is more specifically described as a compilation of writings completed for a certain end-of-life event. I’ve been wanting to read this book for a while, but I’ve often downplayed it’s random content in favor of a more “literary” choice. Now that I’ve pulled it off the shelf, and read page 60, it’s staying out until I finish it. I’m sure I’ll have a Book Note coming soon.

The ball’s in your court. Or, the book’s in your lap, as they say (someone, somewhere, I’m sure).

Anyone interested in venturing a guess, bring it on and share you’re reading, too. I’ll reveal the book on Sunday afternoon unless someone guesses it first.

Are You Sure About That?

The Economist recently published an issue (May 12th-May 18th) with their “Inside This Week” special being snippets from their quarterly publication Intelligent Life. I love both these journals but have less and less time to delve in to them these days. The past two issues of The Economist I threw out without even reading because by the time I found them under a stack of other papers and magazines, they were at least a month old.

I was an early subscriber to Intelligent Life when they launched it several years ago. Often the articles are above my socio-cultural bracket, but the reporting is as incisive and clever as the geo-political offerings of their mother publication. The styles, fashion, foods, artists, and certainly popular culture, are not those I am likely to encounter or even pursue in ma vie quotidienne, but that just reinforces my pleasure in reading their accounts. Reading is about opening minds to new ideas, worlds, tastes, concepts, and anything else that a suitably gifted writer can convey through words; Intelligent Life (and The Economist) have never let me down.

Okay, so I’m taking you to an article inside the Intelligent Life insert in The Economist. The “category” is Thinking, the title is “Non cogito, ergo sum” (always sounds smart when you throw in latin), and the sentence to draw in the reader is “Sometimes thinking is a bad idea.” Okay, it was that sentence and the picture they had next to the article that drew me in.

In his opening argument author Ian Leslie takes us to the semi-final at last year’s US Open between Robert Federer and Novak Djokovic. Specifically he takes us to the apparently casual return serve that shifted the match momentum ultimately in Djokovic’s favor. Djokovic, he argues, had been able to “unthink” at a critical moment. He could turn off the over-analysis, criticism, and concentration naturally going through his brain at every moment on the court so that he could allow his body to activate muscle memory and “play ball.”

“Unthinking is the ability to apply years of learning at the crucial moment by removing your thinking self from the equation.” Leslie continues to note that this applies to musicians and artists, too. This is where he had me hooked. How many times have I written something half-heartedly or just in a passing moment of inspiration that has resonated more profoundly or found more eager readers than something I’ve edited and re-edited and re-edited ad nasuem? It always amazes me. “Oh, I thought that was crap. Apparently someone else got something out of it. Huh.” This is not an argument for not editing – it’s a challenge to identify when these critical opportunities are present and to discipline ourselves in whatever activity we pursue to go back to the roots that made us excited about the activity initially.

Rather than over-think an analysis of this piece. Let me just say I enjoyed reading it, I appreciated the range of examples Leslie took the time to include so that readers can better understand the nuance, and I’ll leave you with a couple quotes to hopefully entice you to read the whole thing. It’s a good read for a Friday afternoon – just in time to unthink the weekend!

“Unthinking is not the same as ignorance; you can’t unthink if you haven’t already thought.”
(This just seems kind of important to point out and reiterate.)

“The only cure for overthinking seems to be enjoyment, something both success and analysis can dull.”

“Djokovic’s return was both the culmination of his life’s effort and an ode to careless joy. It kinda worked.”

In case you missed the link above, here it is again – enjoy!

Why I Stopped Reading…

I found a book at our local Goodwill store for $1.50. I didn’t know anything about it, had never heard of it before, the author was new, but the cover was flashy, the price was amazing, and secretly, I was hoping for a gem of a find.

I’ve stopped reading Life After Genius by M. Ann Jacoby. The writing wasn’t atrocious, but there were a few choices that, when I questioned my lack of enthusiasm for picking up the book again, came to the surface. One, the characters appeared to be written in extremes. The main character was a brilliant genius from a young age. I was okay with this aspect, but then the descriptions of the people around him were just unbelievably ordinary. I wasn’t drawn in to any other person involved and certainly cared less and less for any surrounding inter-personal dynamics. I know we all suspect we live mundane lives – the antitype of Hollywood – but these poor people were one dimensional at best. Perhaps the author had taken every stereotype she could find and used that as a ploy for developing universally approachable characters? I don’t know. One character snores so loudly he doesn’t wake with blaring Classical Music playing; the mother is written as overbearing, period; the uncle channels his disappointment in anger; the professor smells bad; the frenemy is an over-the-top contradiction.

The premise of the book is workable, but the author’s choice of delivery is the greatest hindrance. A genius boy goes to college, is on the verge of explaining a confounding mathematical equation, something happens, he returns home to embrace the life he despises – working in the family business. Unfortunately, the author plunks us at the end of the “action” and then  spends her time looping backwards occasionally while attempting to unconvincingly root us in the present. So, while we start to meet the characters who were involved in this upheaveal, we are simultaneously called to be interested in unremarkable characters who only cause us to ask “Why should I care?” Why do we care that a genius child left days before his graduation to return home? Why do we care what his professors and classmates think of him or how they interacted with him? Too little is revealed too late. Much as writing in past tense, something I struggle with regularly, lacks forward movement, writing the action “looking backwards” in bits and pieces is grating and dull.

So, I stopped reading. I was disappointed. I wanted it to be a hidden gem, and it had potential, but it just didn’t pull me through. So here’s the question: did I stop too soon? I read up to chapter 3 – 46 pages to be precise. Too soon or far enough?

Anyone else read this book and had a different reaction?

Book Note: The Conflict by Elisabeth Badinter

There is so much to say in and about The Conflict: How Modern Motherhood Undermines the Status of Women, and at times it feels as though author Elisabeth Badinter tries to touch on everything. In reflecting on her assertive coverage of a delicate and complex topic, I found myself re-typing quotes from her writing that had sparked a reaction and responding accordingly. Quickly, I went from a blog-length post to a chapter-length post: You have been warned. This alone is a good recommendation for the read. I did not expect to agree with everything, and I intentionally chose to read something controversial to push my own thinking. I was not disappointed.

Photo from amazon.com

Essentially, Badinter makes the following (simplified here) arguments:

1) Modern motherhood has changed thanks to the naturalist philosophy towards pregnancy and parenting (i.e. home-birth, breast-feeding-on-demand, co-sleeping, etc.).

2) Women who choose to stay at home with their children, and leave promising careers behind, are either of the naturally-inclined-to-nurture variety or are intelligent women who have been duped by guilt.

3) This is all very bad for economic and social agendas. Governments should do more.

4) Women staying at home contribute to maintaining a patriarchical status quo more than any other previous offender.

Her discussion of naturalist philosophy and its implications was incisive. While I would not draw the subsequent conclusions that she reaches for her arguments, I agree with her analysis of the influence of the naturalist agenda:

Ecology has been defined as a doctrine that aims to see human beings better adapted to their environments. Beneath the apparent banality of these words lurks a complete reversal of values: rather than mastering and using nature to address human needs and wants, humans are instead called to submit to the laws of nature….Imperceptibly, nature has gained the stature of a moral authority universally admired for its simplicity and wisdom…

As one who decided to stop mid-career to raise our children, I felt alternately annoyed and empathetic to Badinter’s research. I have not embraced a naturalist philosophy, but I have chosen, and yes, with religious considerations playing a key role, to stay at home and focus on what is in the best interest of our children. Yes, it is a sacrifice for my husband and I. Yes, it is hard.  Yes, my salary would have almost been completely spent on daycare if I had returned - almost (most definitely with two children). On the other hand, I have friends and colleagues who have chosen to go back to work while their children enjoy their time in a daycare environment. Still, the options available to women who would like to breast-feed or pump during work hours or have to leave early for a sick child are not always accessible. These friends would likely be able to give many more examples of the difficulties of working a paying job while raising children, and I won’t assume to represent them all. It is hard – all around. I was annoyed that Badinter seemed to be, at times, labeling my choice as a threat to society; I was empathetic to her points establishing the naturalist agenda as inconsiderate of the pressures it creates on women who choose to become mothers and return to work.

She then became more specific in her attack on the naturalist agenda in relation to motherhood:

Women are no longer in the same position. They play a significant role in society, and if they all began to stay at home for two or three years after the birth of each child, the economy would feel the effect. But the fact that we can even entertain the notion of a wholesale return to the home shows that playing on women’s guilt eventually works on their minds. If women are subjected to the relentless message that a mother must give her child everything – milk, time, energy – or pay for it later, inevitably more and more of them will give in.

So many things to say about that paragraph alone!

1) Women are no longer in the same position – true and the type of woman that a female wants to be does seem to be a more nuanced decision to make.

2) My mistake, you’re right, we should make our decisions based on what is good for the economy, not our families. I understand that she is using this to establish the importance and impact of women in today’s modern workplace; I do not appreciate the underlying message that our loyalties should be to making family planning decisions based on economic and social agendas.

3) I did not choose to stay at home because someone was “playing on women’s guilt.” Don’t insult me. I’m a thinking woman, something I thought she was advocating, who decided that this was what was important to my family.

4) Don’t insult women in general. Many of us, at least those to whom this message seemed to be delivered, are educated, informed, contributing members of society. Guilt is indeed powerful; women are too.

5) Incidentally, I do believe, after only a year of experience, that raising a child is a lot more work than birthing a child for the state overlords and twiddling my thumbs. It does require food, time, and energy, and it always will – from mothers (and fathers!) everywhere. It requires sacrifice (an aversion to sacrifice seems to be, at times, central to Badinter’s argument) daily. Sometimes hourly.

This then led to her discussion of the way that this agenda influenced motherhood, including her synopsis of motherhood’s alleged new commandment: “Mothers, you owe them everything!” Shortly thereafter she ties this to the crux of the book’s point.

Their [mothers'] increased responsibility for babies and young children has proved just as restrictive, if not more so, than sexism in the home or in the workplace…The tyranny of maternal duty is not new, but it has become considerably more pronounced with the rise of naturalism, and it has thus far produced neither a matriarchy nor sexual equality, but rather a regression in women’s status.

After establishing her agenda, Badinter discusses the challenges that this type of mothering provides for women desiring to remain in the job force after having children; she outlines the various kinds of support provided by different countries and draws conclusions (or admits to inconclusion) about their impact on reproduction numbers; and, she makes increasingly vigorous arguments for increased state responsibility for raising children, using the French model as an example.

It is good to acknowledge the changing realities surrounding parenthood, and Badinter has an established history of keeping these issues in the public eye. While I do not agree with her conclusions in reponse to the conflicts she outlined, and the main conflict she tackles, there were bits and pieces that resonated with my own journey through motherhood which could allow me to respect her wariness of its direction. Ultimately, how one approaches motherhood, including the myriad negotiations that Badinter emphasizes from the outset, is a choice. A personal choice. Yes, it has social, economic, and perhaps political ramifications, but it is a choice that will be made daily by the parents directly involved -for their family. To take away that choice, or to somehow suggest that the only right choice is one which invites the state government to create policies allowing a woman to be equally tied to a desk and the oven for the sake of gender equality (and that a woman should embrace that option), is not a move in the right direction. Likewise, insinuating that, in the absence of clearly articulated reasons to become a mother, a person could be most persuaded by better state incentives is equally abhorrent and insulting. My uterus is not available for government subsidy, and I would highly discourage anyone from having a child if they think that a measly pension from the state and 9-5 help is going to make your parenthood a breeze. There is the ultimate dupe.

Women have changed. Motherhood has changed. The relationship between the two has necessarily changed. This does not mean that everything from the past is wrong or that any progressive response is right. The discussion must continue for us to find workable solutions that blend the lessons learned from history and the opportunities of the present – without sacrificing women – or children. Badinter suggests that we need to change “the ideal of the good mother devoted to her children;” I would counter that it might be more constructive to change mens’ and womens’ minds about “the ideal of the good woman” for it seems that therein lies the most pressure.

Translated into English from its original French version, I doubt The Conflict lost much of Badinter’s original intentions. The writing is clear, the perspective is thoughtful (and at times confrontational), and the overall effect is unapologetically direct. I recommend this read for those with an interest in sociological topics, gender studies, or with a vested interest in joining intelligent conversations surrounding the role of women and mothers. There is much to think about in this text, and that is not a bad thing.

For additional perspectives on this reading, check out these posts:
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/05/01/the-choice-to-stay-home-no-pressure/

http://notanothermother.com/2012/04/25/the-real-conflict-how-modern-feminism-undermines-the-status-of-mothers/

Swearing with the Bard

I’m a bit testy today. No need to point out obvious possible reasons why. I just am. Watch out world…or, in my case anyone driving like an idiot today, customer service representatives void of customer service, and anyone, I repeat, ANYONE, calling my house and waking up Little E in the middle of a nap (friends and family excluded, of course, but they already know this drill). I’ve discussed in another blog post, G-Rated Swearing, that I’m quite terrible at this new form of censored outburst that I’m trying to maintain now that Little E is present. So I was quite relieved to find a most valuable pin on my latest social media time suck: Pinterest.

I present to you: Shakespeare’s Insults. (Blam! I can get my required outburst and teach my daughter various quotes of the highly esteemed Bard! I am aware that this may not translate as an advantage for her High School English classes, but I’m counting it as a start on her introduction to high literary standards.)

Picture from Pinterest.com

Lucky for today, I’m going to grab a passel of these to share with the world. Not one, not two, several.

Here are my top three sure-fire bets for the day:

1. Thou cream-faced loon, Where gotst that goose look?

2. Thou smell of mountain goat.

3. Bolting hutch of beastliness!

Okay…maybe top five….

4. She is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her.

5. Your breath first kindled the dead coals of war.

6. ….

Oh, what the detested parasites, they’re all fair game today.

Signing off…with promises of happier posts in the future….

Ladies and Gentlemen: Blogroll Please….

As a newbie to the WP community, relatively new, I’ve spent a lot of time stalking Freshly Pressed, other blogrolls, and any posts related to awards that require the awardee to list their favorite reading. It’s been a lot of fun to explore different writing styles, blog layouts, platforms, and humor, always humor. So, I’ve finally put together my own list. I’ll admit that this is partially selfish – I needed to have a list somewhere that I could easily click and visit a blog instead of sifting through the latest posts and trying to remember addresses. But, it’s also just good sense to pass along recommended reading to others – hope you find some new blogs to add to your own lists.

Well, one thing led to another and on top of finding great reading I got more ideas for tinkering on my blogs. So, I’ve changed my Pages here at Reading Today for probably the third, and I think, final time….I hope. Check out my “bookshelves” for blog reading and international and intercultural perspectives.

Recommendations are always welcome for any bookshelf! Happy Reading!

Delta...why can't you be more like Kulula??

Reblogged from Jill of All Trades...Expert of None!:

• 
• 

Thank you all for allowing me and taking part in, a blog of respect to those affected by last year’s horrific storms.

 But…I can’t let us enter the weekend on such a somber note…therefore, let’s raise our glasses (umbrellas encouraged), kick up our feet, and have a laugh!

Kulula Airlines operates from South Africa, but their awesome sense of humor in the workplace should be worldwide! 

Read more… 735 more words

What a great way to fly into the weekend. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this post tonight and laughed straight through it. SA is on my list of places to visit, and I believe I'm going to have to check into using this airline. Happy weekend reading!

Book Note: Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank by Celia Rivenbark

This is the third book by Celia Rivenbark that I have read. The things that I enjoyed about the other two are the same in this book; the things that eventually exhaust me at the end were also the same.  Since I’ve not read any of them in any order (I believe she may have 4-5 books out now) and not too closely together, the content is fresh but the familiar style is strong and ever-present. Her particular knack for tying in current hot items from pop culture in her writing allows me to mentally put it in place for when it was originally published. In this case, think Tonya Harding, Tom Cruise with Katie Holmes on his Scientology kick during childbirth, and Paris Hilton and Nichole Ritchie living in nowhere Arkansas on national television.

Rivenbark writes as she sees it and how she talks. Her books move quickly from chapter to chapter but also with lightning speed between topics within a chapter. Thankfully, her perspectives on motherhood, marriage, celebrities, and politics are not meant to be loaded with heavy insights and mind-bending observations; rather, her pithy and sarcastic commentary allow me to exercise the other parts of my head – the eye roll, nose snort, and mouth smirk.

Each of her books brings a unique perspective to Southern living, but you can almost forget that initially in this collection. The first few chapters cover motherhood with more universal themes than Southern specifics. In one case she describes her efforts at helping her daughter with homework: “Of course, I know that turtles aren’t mammals. They are ambivalents, which can live on air or underwater and write with their right or left flippers. They almost never vote.” She was subsequently fired by her daughter. In these chapters she sprinkles humorous, but strikingly realistic “mottos” throughout her writing as parenthetical asides, such as for the McRib sandwich (“Back but still alarmingly mediocre!”), and the state of Maine (“The Prettiest Place on Earth for Maybe Forty-Five to Sixty Days of the Year), and the Brookings Institution (“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, you are stupider than us.”).  These essays are snarky and immediately relatable for anyone with kids. It’s her warm-up for the rest of the book.

Moving into territory that will be familiar for most anyone – with kids or without – Rivenbark expands her net of commentary to cover Britney Spears, Days of Our Lives, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, and vomiting during Christmas at the in-laws. Everything is fair game, nothing is sacred. There are at this point in the book more direct links or comparisons between Southern culture and, well, the rest of the world. She juxtaposes her struggles getting help for a downed power line in her yard after a hurricane hit North Carolina from her help desk representative in Bangalore with the call center in rural North Carolina providing similar (un)help to New York City.

Her descriptions of the linguistic variations in the south are her strong points. In one chapter she shines a light on health vocabulary after giving a detailed account from an eavesdropped conversation on how these chats usually play out. At the end, Rivenbark provides this clarification: “Redneck vocabulary tip: A good Southern redneck doesn’t know from diabetes. It’s always the sugar. They also call Alzheimer’s old-timer’s and don’t know that’s funny. (In a related vocabulary note, redneck old people also call SUV’s SOB’s, and they really don’t know what they’re saying. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard old Aunt Bettisue say, quite innocently, “That there SOB’s gonna run right over us, he’s so big.”)”

It’s quick and funny, but it can be a lot of snark to read in one sitting.  I recommend breaking it up. Rivenbark is a humor columnist for McClatchy-Tribune Information Services, and that seems the best format for reading her particular brand of humor – a periodic reading of a sarcastic column as a break from reading the serious news. And if you’re one to be easily offended by jabs at Southern culture I recommend staying away from it entirely.

Kid Konnection: Rainy Morning & Texas Mother Goose

A highlight of our recent two-week adventure away from home was receiving two new books for Little E’s abundant library (I consider it a good thing when we receive almost as many books as we do clothes for her).

The first, a gem from a library book sale, had the honor of receiving “That’s a stupid book” judgment from Little E’s great-grandfather. Her great-grandmother differed decidedly and passed it on for our enjoyment. “Rainy Morning” by Daniel Pinkwater does have an element of the um…shall we say unrealistic…in the story, but the concept is perfect for children. Mr. and Mrs. Submarine sit at their kitchen table considering a third breakfast, and commenting on the weather. Not terribly unusual. Neither are the next couple scenes where they let the cat and the dog come inside (and have some corn muffins) to stay dry. From here, the procession of guests grows in absurdity until Mr. and Mrs. Submarine have fed corn muffins to a cat, a dog, a horse, a few crows, a wild coyote, chickens, the car (!), a wildebeest (of course), Ludwig van Beethoven (he has a couple lines of German in the book for the bilingual reader), the U.S. Marine Band, and, as if it wasn’t already there, the circus. There really isn’t much you can do except shake your head in childlike wonder at the characters that brighten the pages. While I do wonder at the odd assortment that Pinkwater chose for his carnival, it has delighted Little E. The colors are vibrant, the kitchen gets ever-bigger, the story gets increasingly comical, and I can’t think of a better way to spend a rainy day with a child.

Photo from Amazon.com

Photo from Amazon.com

The second book has yet to grab Little E’s full attention, but she has been listening to Mom read it since we got it from her Aunt and Uncle in Texas. Texas Mother Goose by David Davis, puts a Lone-Star-State spin on old Mother Goose favorites. Here is just a sampling of some of the clever twists included in this compilation:

“Texas Prayer”
By the campfire, ’bout to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Wake me early, wake me late,
But let me rise in the Lone Star State.

“Jack and Jill”
Jack and Jill scurried up the hill
To drill a well for water.
Jack fell joggin’ and bumped his noggin,
And Jill came tumbling after.

Up they got and home did trot,
Rewarded for their toil:
They were coated head to toe in black,
For the children had struck oil.

Also bearing mention: “The Taco Man” (Do you know the taco man?), “Padre Pedro Picked a Passel of Peppers on the Pedernales,” “Cactus Jack Horner,” “Breakfast with Humpty Dumpty” (in this re-telling Humpty Dumpty becomes breakfast, which, I must say, sounds more realistic), and “There Was an Old Cowgirl Who Lived in a Boot.” I can’t list them all, but they’re creative and entertaining and the illustrations are likewise. If you don’t have any connections to Texas, its probably one you can live without, but we’re going to enjoy learning some new lingo for storytime.

To read more great reviews about children’s books, visit Booking Mama’s feature Kid Konnection. And, if you’d like to share your own opinion on recent reads for children (picture, middle grade, or young adult), leave a comment and link on her site!