but I’ve just opened a CafePress store.
T-shirts (including plus size and maternity), Dignerrieres, and even Dignaroos. It’s all there.
For a little background on this tomfoolery, see
and
and, just to show my heart’s in the right place, one more post which didn’t spawn any products at all:
But really, overall, I’m so ashamed. But on the other hand, do let me know if there’s another product you’d like to see!
Today’s book recommendation for our 50 Books list, which I’m assuming will even out to about fifty books at some point, is written by my mother-in-law, the inestimable, unflappable, indefatigable Nana Fisher, also known as H. M. (which stands for “Helen Mary.” She also sometimes goes by “H.” Crazy side note: I once met a midwife who was named “Mary Helen,” and she went by M. H., or “Maitch”), who keeps her head when all about her are bugging out; whose cookies and fudge sustained my body and soul through many a pregnancy; who can make anything, anything at all, with a sewing machine or enough papier mache; who will let you stay at her house until you get back on your feet, no matter who you are or what your feet smell like; who can feed a small army in style at a moment’s notice; who cleans with a razor blade and kerosine, but who understands how to step over a mess when other things matter more than cleaning; who is one of the original and most loyal members of the Rocky and Bulwinkle fan club; who always finds the right music for any occasion; and who never stutters and stammers over the names of her eight children or eleven grandchildren, because she calls all the girls “Toots” and all the boys “Sugar Booger”). H. M. recommends for us:
H.M. says:
The Princess Bride speaks to children and grown-ups in a quirky and familiar way.
Anyone who has seen the movie will enjoy William Goldman’s style in telling the story, set in Renaissance Europe, of adventure, an evil prince, revenge, a ‘dread’ pirate, and of course, true love.
It’s a great book to read aloud boys and girls of any age.
Sorry for the bad link in the Register! Click below for the advent chain:
From Margaret Wise Brown to a book that I can’t believe I didn’t read sooner:
Boy, did I have the wrong idea about this book. Maybe because it was so popular when it came out, or (look, I’m shallow) maybe because the author’s name is so snazzy, I somehow assumed that it was a trashy beach book, or some kind of dated, two-bit thriller. Boy, was I wrong. This is the real deal — real literature, a genuinely great novel. Almost Dostoevskian at times.
The characters are so real. Their sorrows and loves are so real. The places are so real. My memories of passages I read are as strong as memories of places I’ve actually, physically visited. The plot is insanely complicated, but it’s never outside the realm of what might, actually possibly happen to someone who is as unlucky, as talented, as driven, and as flawed, and as Russian as Moscow homicide investigator Arkady Renko.
I honestly don’t know why my kids love this book so much:
Okay, so Margaret Wise Brown, best known for Goodnight, Moon — kind of a difficult author, in my opinion. They couldn’t have chosen a more grating color scheme for the colorized version, and I have a really hard time with books that sometimes rhyme, but sometimes just use the same word twice, because that rhymes. I have a hard time with the fact that they leave the bowl of mush out all night at room temperature. I have tried really hard to see this book as charming and comforting, but it just always strikes me as dreary and creepy — like a Twilight Zone episode where alien rabbit drones enslave mankind and try to replicate a quaint nursery atmosphere, but since they’re aliens, something is disastrously off. Or are they kittens? I forget. Luckily, my kids aren’t especially attached to this book.
I do actually really like The Big Red Barn, which just talks about how there’s all these animals doing stuff, and then they go to bed, and then it’s dark. Very nice, and I enjoy the delicate shifts in the color of the sky as the sun slowly sets.
Okay, so back to the original book, the Golden Egg Book. There is no actual golden egg involved (it’s a “Golden Book,” that’s all), nor is there a highly decorated egg like on the cover. It’s a perfectly cute story: bunny finds an egg, doesn’t know what’s inside, and harasses the egg in various ways until he falls asleep. Then the egg hatches and the duckling who comes out harasses the bunny in various ways until he wakes up. The pictures are pretty and old-fashioned, and have lots of atmospheric detail.
Well, according to my kids, THIS BOOK IS A RIOT. It’s comedy gold. I don’t know what it is, but they just can’t get enough of it. They laugh and laugh and run around the room yelling with sheer excess of enjoyment. I don’t know if that will make you want to buy the book or not, but if you do, your kids will probably like it. (The kids in question are ages 7, 5, 3 and 11 months, by the way — all girls.)
Of course it’s Thanksgiving that gave me the idea for today’s book pick:
My constant companion. I have never found a cookbook I like better. It taught me all the basics — how to make pie crust and rolls, stock, gravy, meatballs, muffins, and so on (with suggested variations); how to carve a chicken, how to tell when eggs and different types of produce are fresh, how to measure various types of food, what to substitute when you’re out of a certain ingredient, how to tell when food is done cooking, how to fix a recipe gone awry, and when you can and cannot get away with cutting corners. It also has a truly useful index, which not all cookbooks do.
You never get halfway through a recipe and think, “Wait, wait, what do you MEAN?” or “Why didn’t you warn me?” or “Who the hell has one of those in their kitchen?” Marion Cunningham gives just the right amount of instruction, never springs anything on you, and obviously enjoys eating. It’s kind of amazing how many cookbooks are written by people who clearly have a problem with food. But Marion Cunningham is like a patient aunt who likes being in the kitchen and is happy to help, but doesn’t think her skills are the be-all and end-all of life, either.
I still consult this cookbook several times a week. A great gift for anyone just starting out, or for someone who has a shelf full of fancy, specialized cookbooks, but needs an anchor book.
Come on, you all know what the “quick takes” picture looks like by now. It’s on my computer somewhere, but I’ll be damned if I can find it, and my computer is tearfully warning me that it just doesn’t know what it might do if I open another tab. I tried making it yellow for authenticity’s sake, but it hurt my eyes. All right, here we go.
1. I almost never click on those touching or adorable “You’ll never guess how he proposed!” or “Wow, what an original way to process down the aisle!” stories. They kinda leave me cold. But I can’t get enough of stories about marriages in their advanced stages — of love and forgiveness in times of trial. I just hear the most amazing story from StoryCorps, an initiative that records and archives the personal stories of regular people. It’s only a few minutes long, but it will blow you away, maybe.
(If the embed above doesn’t work, which of course it won’t, you can click here to hear the story.)
2. I’m not sure if she wants me to use her name or not, but a dear reader gave me the most amazing gift: the chance to pick out a pair of high-quality boots or shoes. Not wanting to insult her generosity by ordering from the middle of the menu, I went completely berserk and picked out a pair of these:
They arrived yesterday, and it was with great reluctance that I took them off to go to bed. I feel magnificent in them; and my husband — well, let’s just say that, if I get pregnant this winter, I feel sure that that child will somehow pick up the nickname “Bootsie.” Who can say why.
3. Today’s pick for 50 Books! Normally I despise those sassy, transgressive “fractured fairy tales” or “an old story with a modern twist.” Bleh, who needs it? But this one is just completely charming:
Maybe I never really liked the original “Three Little Pigs” story anyway — why, exactly, did the little pigs have to leave their mother? Why didn’t the more practical pig help his dumber brothers design their houses? And the third pig eats the wolf who is presumably still digesting the pig’s brothers, really? Anyway, this version has a much nicer, more satisfying ending, and the pictures are just great.
4. If you can, do pre-order Adventhology, the latest project of Ryan Charles Trusell (of Ora et Labora et Zombies fame)! Dorian Speed, Brandon Vogt, Dan Lord and I each wrote an essay for it. You can buy the essays individually, or you can get the whole set. Nice, manageable price, and an attractive and unusual gift. Today I’m excerpting a passage from Dan Lord’s essay, “The Offended.”
The Subhuman reached up with his grisly left hand, his only hand, and grabbed hold of the brass knob on the confessional door. The crones bleeped and warbled.
The confessional door creaked open. The Subhuman shuffled inside, shoulders stooped more than ever, claw held out in front of him, breath scraping out from within that dark, stinking hood.
He shut the door behind him. The green light turned red.
Now that, my friends, is an Advent story. Oh, and don’t forget that Dan Lord (husband of “Moxie Wife” Hallie Lord) has just come out with a new book, Choosing Joy, which is getting good reviews.
5. Suzanne Temple cracked me up with this status update on Facebook: “Oh gross, Ethan discovered how everything gets stuck in that gap in the floor under the dishwasher. #snackspot”
Does everyone have a spot like this in their house? We have a few of them. Some are just literally low spots, where the shifting foundations of the house have left, for instance, one corner of the kitchen distinctly downhill from the other corners, and anything that can slide, drip, roll or pool ends up there. And other areas are just in places in the house that naturally become sort of dry land tidepools, where all the various household currents leave their debris behind in an utterly non-glorious jumble that even G. M. Hopkins would think was just gross.
Along comes Benny to her favorite buffet. Oh, well.
6. Are you mad at your kids? Do you want to get them something really awful for Christmas? Well, you might want to consider this:
It’s the See It Happen Composting Kit. I should just charge $34.95 for people to come to my house and hang out with Benny in a Low Spot. “See it happen” indeed.
7. In the course of writing this stupid post, there was a broken glass, a half-gallon of milk that spilled and ran inside the only downstairs closet, a tumbling baby and a fat lip, three shrieky squabbles over who gets the remote, and then WordPress was all like, “Oh, I’m sorry, did you WANT that post, with all the links in it? Because I know I put it here somewhere. Wait, here it is! Yes, here are the first three lines of it, just for you. That’s fine, right?”
On the other hand, I just remembered that I only had half a cup of coffee this morning, so I still have another half coming to me! O happy day!
Guess what? I’ve been putting a lot of old books on my 50 Books list, but today is different. Today’s book is so new that you have to pre-order it.
AND, I wrote part of it! Yes, inching my way slowly and angrily toward actually writing my own damn book, I was delighted when the strange and wonderful Ryan Charles Trusell of Labora Editions — YOU KNOW, THE ORA ET LABORA ET ZOMBIES GUY — asked me to join Dorian Speed, Dan Lord, and Brandon Vogt in writing short essays on the theme of Advent for a new “micropublishing” venture. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to be involved in such a cool project with such cool people.
Here’s the cover for my contribution:
and here’s the official blurb for the whole set, which includes booklets from all four writers:
A subversive baby king, a lumbering grotesque, the empress of holiday traditions, and an epiphany on the day after Epiphany… All of this and more awaits readers inside the four slim volumes of the Labora Editions Adventhology. This new micropublishing adventure brings together four short pieces by four well-known Catholic bloggers, united by the common theme of the season of Advent and its culmination at Christmas. Each piece is published separately, as its own small booklet, of fine paper with a hand-printed softcover.
My dears, how much do you think a gorgeous hand-printed set of four original essays would cost you? Well, nope! It’s just $12 for the set, or you can buy each booklet separately for a mere $3.50. This will make a lovely present, or (and you know this is a high compliment from me) excellent bathroom reading. Pre-order! Shipping begins November 23.
Hoping to get some excerpts up tomorrow! I’ve only read little bits of what Brandon, Dan, and Dorian wrote, so I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on this set. Thanks to Ryan for including me, and for changing the cover at the last minutewithout breaking an apparent sweat, when I changed my mind and didn’t want to write about caterpillars after all! Whew.
Today’s pick:
A simple and satisfying story of two daughters, based on an African folktale. One daughter has a gentle and generous heart, and she is tested and rewarded; one is petty and grasping, and she gets what she deserves. The story is engaging and nicely phrased, but the illustrations are what makes this book a real delight.
They are absolutely luminous, deeply textural, warm, and brilliant. The subtle expressions on the faces of the two daughters tell the story very well, and the joy at the end of the story radiates off the page.
The book is for pre-K to grade 3, it says, but I never get tired of reading it (and often catch the older kids listening in).
I wanted today’s book to have a nice tie-in with today’s post, but, it doesn’t. But it has something much, much better: HOKUSAI!
The book I looked over a thousand times when I was little is
If you think that Japanese art is stiff, formal and impenetrable to Western eyes, then your cure is HOKUSAI! You probably know his famous “Great Wave off Kanagawa”
This is a woodblock print. A WOODBLOCK PRINT. Have you ever tried to do a print? Okay.
But what I really remember from this book is his little portraits. Tender, grotesque, hilarious, occasionally obscene, and all done with an economy of line that — I don’t even know how to say it. It will slay you.
It’s my constant lament that we never manage to bring my kids to art museums. I do try to copy my parents’ example and pick up large, colorful art books at book sales, though, and leave them lying around for the kids to leaf through. (This has its perils, of course; just because it’s art doesn’t mean it’s okay for kids to see certain things! So you have to use your common sense.)
If you kid is, like mine, into manga (which is also a constant lament of mine, but I try to keep it to myself), maybe you could introduce him to Hokusai. I’m going to go out on a limb here and link to another book which I haven’t actually read, but which I’m thinking of getting for my kid:
Here’s the blurb:
More than a hundred years before Japanese comics swept the globe, the master engraver Hokusai was producing beautiful, surreal, and often downright wacky sketches and drawings, filled with many of the characters and themes found in modernmanga. These out-of-context caricatures, which include studies of facial expressions, postures, and situations ranging from the mundane to the otherworldly, demonstrate both the artist’s style and his taste. In addition to the landscapes for which he is beloved, Hokusai’s mangas reveal his compassion for farmers, artisans, and peasants, as well as his keen eye for the absurd.
Hokusai!!!!!!!!!!! It’s also fun to say.
