Reading Out Loud: Books, Kids, and Their Partners

In some ways, it’s a natural impulse to become the reader—to share the books you love—particularly if you have a child in your life, whether said child is yours or not.

I first read to a child while I myself still counted among their numbers. As is often the case in such cases,[*] I was babysitting a younger child who asked me to read a book I hadn’t seen in some time—a Doctor Seuss book, if I recall correctly. The teens are a bit early for nostalgia, but it reminded me of how much I loved reading Hop on Pop and other beginning reader books. It was fun to revisit an old friend and gleefully recite silly rhymes.

Becoming the Reader

In some ways, it’s a natural impulse to become the reader—to share the books you love—particularly if you have a child in your life, whether said child is yours or not. From the bookworm parent’s perspective, it’s truly a highlight to share a treasured childhood book with your child and watch that book become one of their favorites. It’s also a great opportunity to meet new books as well as catch up on books you might have missed the first time ’round.[†]

The respondents[‡] I polled about reading to children also happened to be parents, who primarily read to their children around bedtime for about 15 minutes, though one respondent ran a bit longer. Usually, parent readers take turns or allow the children to select the books. I personally like to select books when it’s my turn to read, since it’s a good opportunity to introduce books I think he’ll like as well as broaden his horizons.[§] If he expresses a preference for another book, though, I typically go with it—unless we’re reading something short because bedtime is running late!

The Kids Are Alright…with Reading Aloud

Of course, this makes me curious about what it’s like being read to from a kid’s perspective. As I mentioned in another post, I loved the story hour at my local library when the children’s librarian would read various stories aimed at younger audiences: I still recollect her soft voice declaiming words slowly enough for her listeners to easily follow along, how she looked up from reading and smiled at the gathered children. There, too, were read-along-book sets and other recorded stories I enjoyed. And my mother introduced me to the pleasures of listening to an audiobook on a car ride.[**]

Since I don’t much remember bedtime reading, I conducted an informal Q&A session with my household’s resident child. My interview revealed that he likes being read to by me, the spouse, and a close family friend, although he’s generally happy to have anyone read to him. While he didn’t choose a favorite reader on the home front,[††] I’ve learned that I do the best voices and that my spouse adds a lot of funny bits. So far, he likes that I choose stories for him, even though my spouse and he takes turns selecting books. And neither of us can keep story time to 15 minutes. A certain someone is good at wheedling for a few extra pages. In fact, he enjoyed the Alice in Wonderland so much that he’s requested that we start reading it as soon as we’re home.

And he’s not the only one who can’t wait.[‡‡]

Share your favorite childhood stories and books in the section below—I might read them to my tot soon! Also, don’t forget to sign up for the Sequence newsletter to keep up with the latest posts.

NOTES:

[*] Reading to younger siblings also counts as another common avenue. Since I’m a youngest child, that’s right out for me.

[†] As I noted elsewhere, I read A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner for the first time in 2016!

[‡] Thank you very much again, respondents!

[§] Otherwise, it’d always be The Magic School Bus stories.

[**] I was a teenager, and the book was Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier.

[††] My child, the diplomat.

[‡‡] The timely completion of this post, of course, being interrupted by said child.

Public Reading: For the Love of Libraries

We were book lovers, so we went to the library as often as we could: After all, it felt like another home.

“I always knew from that moment, from the time I found myself at home in that little segregated library in the South…I always felt, in any town, if I can get to a library, I’ll be OK.” –Dr. Maya Angelou[*]

As a child, I inhabited my hometown’s library. I swept through the familiar stacks, seeking books I hadn’t yet read or favorites to re-read. In the background, I could overhear my mother discussing my reading level with the children’s librarian. The same librarian hosted the story hour. She’d sit nearly surrounded by a semi-circle of children, showing us the pages as she slowly read them aloud. Afterwards, I could check out as many books as I could carry—and I frequently needed to tuck the stack under my chin to avoid dropping them.[†] I finished roughly half of the books before my mother drove us home. We were book lovers, so we went to the library as often as we could: After all, it felt like another home.

Of course, I found echoes of myself in books featuring other bookworms and the libraries in which they lost themselves, the librarians which they befriended. My favorite part of Robin McKinley’s version of the Beauty[‡] and the Beast story involved reading.[§] The novel features a bookish heroine who marvels at the books she finds in the Beast’s library, some of which have not yet been written.[**] Considering how many times and how long I’ve waited for sequels to be published, I’m confident that this magical library is a bookworm’s dream. In the Discworld series, however, it’s not only possible to find books that have yet to be written but also to travel through time and to different places through L-space (that is, library space).[††] In some way, I’ve always felt this to be true of reading. How often had I found myself lost in book only to surprised when I became aware again of my actual surroundings? And these novels also feature the Librarian of the Unseen University, once a human wizard who found key advantages in being transformed into orangutan.[‡‡] Never saying much more than “Ook”, he manages to communicate his meaning all the same and he’s good to have on your side. His unique approach to helping is entirely in keeping with what I know of librarians, all of whom work hard to serve the public.[§§]

And if libraries mean the world to a someone whose childhood was reasonably comfortable, imagine the difference they make to children with different backgrounds. Dr. Maya Angelou spoke of her first library as a soothing balm, the kind that helped her find her words again and her vocation. For another young woman, libraries acted as an equalizer. Although she could not afford to buy books the way her friends did, her free public library card permitted to read nonetheless. Even coming from a family that collected books, I know there’s many books I would not have read without this free access. And libraries don’t just hold books. Poet/filmmaker Greta Bellamacina shared that libraries provided a quiet place to study that her home lacked. Libraries provide safe places.

For these reasons, I feel dismay whenever I read about efforts to defund public libraries. Since I’d personally prefer that Fahrenheit 451 remain a work of fiction,[***] I urge readers to get out and support our community libraries and fund groups that protect libraries. I would like my child to continue reading all those books eagerly, after story hour, the way I did. I’d like all children to have that second home to visit.

Have a favorite librarian or library story? Share in the comments section! Or better yet, support your with a donation! Also, don’t forget to sign up to the Sequence’s newsletter at the popup window.

NOTES:

[*] Library, The New York Public. “Interview: How Libraries Changed Maya Angelou’s Life.” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, n.d. Web. 11 Feb. 2017. <http://www.huffingtonpost.com/the-new-york-public-library/interview-how-libraries-c_b_775980.html&gt;.

[†] Naturally, this librarian also ran the summer reading program, which I read for the way some kids train for sports.

[‡] Technically, her name was Honour, but she got herself nicknamed “Beauty” as a young child by insisting she’d rather be called beauty. Of course, the name stuck, which made her awkward teen years so much more…awkward.

[§] McKinley, Robin. Beauty: a retelling of the story of Beauty & the beast. New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1978.

[**] For the record, this novel predates the Disney film.

[††] Pratchett, Terry. Guards! Guards! New York: HarperTorch, 2001.

[‡‡] Obtaining books from the top shelves features highly on this list.

[§§] Although, their approach involves less implied violence.

[***] Not to mention The Handmaid’s Tale and 1984.

Reading Past and Future

Ready to read in the new year

Generally speaking, I avoid the whole “new year, new me” resolutions that plague the early days of January. In my part of the world, January tends to be cold and grey with a chance of snow. After the merry and bright of the darkest nights of December, January already feels like the morning after the night before.[*] Why add the pressure of life-changing resolutions?

To be fair though, I have the bookworm’s long-standing goal to read more, regardless of which part of the year it is. It’s been a rather poignant plan at times, when I haven’t had enough free time to read deeply the way I wanted to do or the focus when I did have time. In 2016, however, I felt like I read a lot of cool books, although I always wish for more time to read more.[†] With that in mind, I’ve compiled a list of the notable books I’ve read (links are to posts that discuss these books).

Since I’m making lists, I thought I’d consider books for 2017 as well. Normally, I let my birthday and Christmas presents[‡] dictate the books that I plan to read for the upcoming year, and I find other books that interest me as the year progresses. I am, however, hoping to get a few suggestions from my readers. Please feel free to post your suggestions in the comment box!

2016 Notable Reads[§]
The Vegetarian by Han Kang

Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne[**]

The House at Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne

The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

The Complete Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This by Robin Black

Jamrach’s Menagerie by Carol Birch

Sleeping Embers of an Ordinary Mind by Anne Charnock

The Kitchen God’s Wife by Amy Tan

The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan*

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon

2017 To-Read List
All the Living by C. E. Morgan

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Howard’s End by E. M. Forster

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo[††]

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Take Off Your Pants! Outline Your Books for Faster, Better Writing by Libbie Hawker

Read a good book lately? Share your reading recommendations in the comment section below! Also, sign up for newsletter and stay current with the latest posts!

NOTES:

[*]For some of us, this might be literally true on New Year’s Day.

[†] Just like that guy in the Twilight Zone episode.

[‡] Nothing is sadder than when you DON’T get books for a present.

[§] I’ve read more books than are listed here, but these are the ones that truly stood out as I was putting this list together. Some of these books are also re-reads.

[**] I still can’t believe I’d not read either of these books as a kid.

[††] I’ve actually been trying to read Les Miserables for ages. The problem is it’s so long that I start losing the plot when I put it down. I’m working on finding time to read it uninterrupted so that I don’t lose where I am.

Christmas Stories and the Naughty List

The ruiners of Christmas are all about wish fulfillment. Just not yours.

For the last several years, my husband and I have hosted the Christmas Day festivities.[*] When we’re finally alone and things have been cleared away enough for now, we kick off our own holiday celebration by watching The Ref. After weeks of holiday hustling and making the feast festive, we’re ready for a grittier Christmas tale.[†]

And there’s nothing quite like watching the holidays go a bit off the rail.[‡]

You see, Christmas stories can’t seem but to help ending well.[§] The question is really how does everything go wrong and then get righted. Because most stories about Christmas tend to capture our anxiety about making the holidays perfect—the just-so gifts, the traditions warmly observed, the delicious spread, the making of new, joyous memories—in contrast to the more likely realities of working late on/through holidays, indifferent gravies, suspect presents, and cranky kids. Christmas isn’t going to be perfect.

But in Christmas stories, there’s at least someone to blame.

Enter the villains of Christmas, the wicked and nasty folks who won’t let the rest of us have our fun. In sharp contrast to our real lives, the rotten are readily reformed—or at the very least, they are thwarted. Some are one-dimensional characters, really more plot devices than people (the Grinch). We delight in their nastiness and cheer for their comeuppance (the thieves from Home Alone). For more complicated characters, writers have the trick job of convincing us that these characters can be cruel while remaining capable of recognizing that they are the problem (Scrooge). We’ve got to believe they can see the world through other people’s perspectives.

And that may well be the ultimate fantasy fulfilled by the Christmas tale—the gift of understanding. We witness the remorseful father who accepts a child for whom that child actually is (Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer), the miserly bosses who finally understand how their workers truly need funds (A Christmas Carol, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation), and the green men who finally get holidays are bit more than consumerism (How the Grinch Stole Christmas!). However cheesily and unrealistically, we are filled with hope. Perhaps we, too, can find a way to open our own hearts and understand or make ourselves understandable to others.

Or at least thwart those who won’t be nice.

Happy Holidays! And be good to each other.

Who is your favorite Christmas villain and why? Post in the comment section below! Also, sign-up to my newsletter to receive notification when new posts are available.

NOTES:

[*] This is meant to be a lighthearted holiday piece. If you are among those for whom the holidays are a difficult time and are reaching a crisis point, please seek help. You are valuable. For more support, check out https://psychcentral.com/lib/telephone-hotlines-and-help-lines/.

[†] To be honest, there’s a small part of me that identifies with the Grinch railing about all the “NOISE, NOISE, NOISE” of the holidays, all of which deserves a few humbugs.

[‡] Or, rather a lot, in the case of The Ref. Larceny, divorce, and blackmail aren’t your typical holiday tropes.

[§] Except, I’m told, the movie Krampus. But it is mostly comedy/horror film, so it’s not exactly in the standard Christmas genre.

On Reading, Compassion and the Way Forward

Walter_Geikie_-_Drunken_Man_-_WGA8520.jpg
Drunken Man. Walter Geikie [Public domain], via Wikipedia Commons

When I read Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition,[*] I was on a semi-reading hiatus, although not necessarily by choice. My drunk-love affair with reading novels was temporarily on hold because I lacked the energy to immerse myself in these all-absorbing worlds.[†] While I felt a certain grief for this change (and still do), I re-routed my reading to shorter works of fiction, tried to carve out times when I could read novels, and contented myself with reading other writings ranging from the news and nonfiction.[‡]

Hence, I found the Last Call, a lengthy meditation on period of American history I never fully understood. How did religious and/or conservative groups manage to impinge on everyone else’s freedom to drink? Or ineffectively, considering the rumrunners and speakeasies that resulted.

How indeed.

Because nothing is so straightforward. The “drys” effectively represented what Okrent called “five distinct, if occasionally overlapping components made up this unspoken coalition: racists, progressives, suffragists, populists…and nativists” (42). Of these, the reasons many women had for supporting prohibition were all too sobering. Women often were the victim of husbands whom spent their paychecks on alcohol, frequented prostitutes—passing along diseases to their unknowing spouses—and abused their spouses and children. And so they protested, because it was the means to gain control of their lives (Okrent 12–19). It’s difficult to disparage teetotalism when faced with this suffering. Prejudice’s role against immigrants was also tempered by the ideals of some progressives who wished to improve the life of immigrants—even if that meant repressing them. While I don’t condone the latter, I at least now appreciate that there were those who felt empathy for urban immigrants  (48–50).

It’s a powerful lesson, examining the underpinnings of a puzzling era. There was no monolithic group who demanded the end of drinking alcohol so much as a series of actors doing what they thought best.

I’ve often thought of this book a great deal recently, marveling how many disparate threads were woven to limit the rights of the United States’ citizens and the consequences. In a time where we might angrily denounce other people’s political choices after a highly contentious election, it’s tempting to forget that people wanted change and chose what they thought was the right way forward.

We might benefit from examining what we learned, lost, and gained from Prohibition and other contentious eras—how we might protest for positive change and compassionately help those who need our assistance without trampling their rights. During these difficult days, we might not anticipate how our lives will change but we can choose how we handle those changes.

How has reading helped you find compassion for others? Post your comments below. Also, sign-up to my newsletter to receive notification when new posts are available.

NOTES:

[*] Okrent D. Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition. New York: Scribner, 2010.

[†] Results of the post-pregnancy period and raising of young tots vary among individuals. But prepare your reading time accordingly.

[‡] I remain uncertain as to why I was able to focus on nonfiction works versus fiction. The possibilities range being able to easily regain my spot in a narrative with which I had some familiarity (Prohibition) to the relevance of certain subjects (baby books). Either way, I’ve never read so slowly as I did then.

Room to Read

Speaking as an avid bookworm, there is nothing more irresistible than an unread book.

“This must be Thursday,” said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”

Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I grew up in a reading household: both of my parents read regularly. My dad built bookcases in our den that still couldn’t hope to hold all the reading material we owned. My mom took me to the local library at least once a week, letting me check out all the books I could lug home. Laudable as their efforts were, this isn’t about how they inspired my reading.[*]

It’s about how sharing a room did.

The room in question was the bedroom I shared with my sister. Or, more accurately, the one she shared with me. Being several years older, it had been hers first. Granted, it remained hers in some real ways when it came to where things went and space division. I’m not sure if that’s much consolation for a teenager trading her privacy (and full-sized bed) for a much younger and much messier little sister. All things considered, she probably got the worst end of that deal.[†]

And I’m not saying that just because she’s frequently mentions the horrors of negotiating a floor strewn with doll shoes whilst trying to silently slip into bed after a night out.[‡]

But when you happen to be one of four children, sharing happens. So we did. She may have shared a bit more with me than she knew at the time. Speaking as an avid bookworm, there is nothing more irresistible than an unread book. She kept hers under her dresser. And, I most certainly borrowed them.

Being a voracious reader, I read rather indiscriminately then.[§] I quite happily absorbed myself in some sister’s not-so-age-appropriate romance novels alongside the library’s copy of Little Women. But there was one book—I don’t recall whether my sister was in high school or college at the time the new book came or exactly how old I was—but I vividly recollect the cover as it peeked out from behind dark wooden legs: a planet with its tongue sticking out. That one, that one was a revelation. A clinically depressed robot? Computers declaring the meaning of life is 42? A chap who can’t manage Thursday? It was odd and hilarious at once. I loved The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, even the bits I didn’t quite get yet. It’s one I’ve reread many times, and it was my sister who (unwittingly) placed it in my path.

As we time went by, my sister purposely lent me books, too. Often, she provided me with plot synopses so that I could decide whether they were worth reading. Of course, we don’t always agree to read the same sort of books,[**] but I’m always interested in trying her recommendations. Like that time she suggested I read this story about a kid called Harry Potter. I was a bit skeptical, since it was for kids (or so I thought). She sent me home with the first three books. And she was right: they were great. For her birthday, I bought her the next four as soon as each was published.

I suppose putting up with a kid sister eventually paid off for her.

 

 

Who is your partner in reading? Post in the comment section below! Also, sign-up to my newsletter to receive notification when new posts are available.

 

 

[*] Although, they absolutely did and do continue to inspire me to keep reading.

[†] Not that it was her choice.

[‡] I have it on her authority that stepping on Barbie doll shoes whilst barefoot is excruciatingly painful. It’s little wonder she made sure I became a far tidier person than I was naturally inclined to be.

[§] For the sake of my sanity, I no longer partake of breakfast cereals. To this day, I can’t seem to stop myself from rereading the boxes again and again.

[**] I still can’t talk my sister into horror fiction.