Goodreads



On my To-Read shelf


The Never-ending Book Quiz caught my eye first.  I’m one of those people who gravitates toward quizzes, with topics as varied as “How Healthy are You?,” “Name all the State Capitals in 5 Minutes,” “Find your Decorating Style by Answering These 20 Questions,” “Fill in the Elements on the Periodic Table,” and pretty much anything you’d find on Jeopardy.  Librarians are, by nature, curious.  While we can’t know everything, we’re armed with mad skills, enabling us to find nearly anything.  As you might imagine, as a librarian, I felt quite smug about taking the Neverending Book Quiz.  After taking it numerous times (because it’s never-ending), I’ve been properly put in my place, with only an 18-correct-answer winning streak.  There are dozens of book quizzes on Goodreads, but this one’s my favorite.

One of my favorite titles

Goodreads is a great website, like Facebook with a literary bent, great for keeping track of books you’ve read and books you’d like to read, seeing what your friends are reading and recommending, finding book trivia or quotations, information about authors, and taking or creating book quizzes.  Unlike some so-called reviewers on Amazon, who might simply write that their book arrived late (1-star) or have a gripe against an author (e.g. a liberal reader writing about a conservative author, even though they’ve never read the book), Goodreads reviews are usually bona fide reviews—what the reader liked/didn’t like about the writing, the plot, the format, etc.  Some reviews can still be snarky (I’m a real fan of this review of The Elegance of the Hedgehog), but even this review, like most on this site, is on-point and can be helpful if you’re on the fence about whether to read a particular book. 

Are you a reader?  A quizmaster?  Both?  Join your soulmates at Goodreads!

Mrs. Hodge

Tink



"Lazy Girl Shawl"


Knitting. It's doing something to my brain. Affecting how I think and even dream. Could it be the mathematical nature of the craft? Or the patterns and colors?
Whatever is happening, it is powerful, in a good way. Dreams have turned to technicolor-wonder productions, and I'm counting everything.... Maybe it's the synergy between the left and right hands, working together to coax the yarn into a new loop.

Sometimes, an undoing of the loops happens, which is called tinking, or to tink (which is clever because tink is knit spelled backwards). When the tinking becomes ridiculous, I whine, check the pattern, count stitches and attack with renewed conviction. And tink again.

A kind-hearted friend listened to my story of tinking woe. She suggested that I hold my finger on the wrapped stitches (some stitches don't get "looped" they simply wrap themselves around the knitting needle and ride along). It worked. The tinking stopped. Everyone was getting looped, and those that weren't, were riding along. My kind-hearted friend was confident in her diagnosis and gentle with her prescription for a solution. It was a textbook teachable moment. The right questions were asked, she figured out what I didn't know and offered a strategy for understanding the problem.

It was interesting, in a clinical sense, to be on the don't-know-what-I-don't-know side of learning. It was also frustrating. There are a couple of lessons about learning, frustration, not knowing and teachable moments that I can pull from my current knitting experiences. Applying them with an overlay of gentle, kind-hearted confidence is what I hope to do as the student's spring research papers reach their conclusions.

Choices

When in Old Town, I might try 21 Choices.  At The Counter, I can choose the Asian Veggie burger in a bowl, or go crazy choosing amongst the amazing gastronomic delights in the toppings, sauces, meats, and buns.  Ordering takes time.  Heck, it took me over 5 years, building my ideal car online (make, model, color, interior, options, mileage, frequency of repair records via Consumer Reports), to finally purchase my sweet little Acura RSX. 

 In our library, we have 15,000+ choices...books on a myriad of topics, novels dystopian, tragic, hilarious, poignant, romantic, and thought-provoking.  My literary tastes are varied:  I'm currently reading a book about Aboriginal art,  Of Human Bondage, and a Kindle copy of a book about organizing.  Sometimes, the choices are too numerous to settle on a single choice.  However, one title intrigued me when I read the review, and I knew that I had to read it the moment we received it from our book company. I wasn't disappointed!  Here's a book trailer for Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children: 

The cover alone is a draw...a vintage photo of a sullen little girl, levitating a few inches off the ground.  Readers of dystopian fiction, such as The Hunger Games trilogy, The Giver, and fantasy, such as A Wrinkle in Time (remember that from your childhood?) should enjoy this quirky book about an orphanage with strange children with even stranger  powers.  My first reaction was that it would make a fantastic film; well, guess what?  Tim Burton already grabbed the movie rights and got Jane Goldman to write the screenplay.  Burton has that creative mix of genius and eccentricity to do this book justice. 

So, we have 15,000 choices.  You haven't checked out a book this year???   I guarantee we have something you'll love!

Mrs. Hodge

Stalking Saturn

Saturn's Majesty, in the Infrared
http://saturn.jpl.nasa.gov/photos/halloffame/





Saturn and those fabulous rings. Rings that make a scientific and aesthetic statement. Rings that capture our imagination and challenge our notion of what is possible. Remember making the model of our Solar System in elementary school? Did you agonize over what to use for Saturn’s rings? Fuzzy pipe cleaners? A slice of Styrofoam? (a definite carving disaster) Should there be glitter?

But while the model was interesting, Saturn and a host of other planets and stars are up there in the sky, visible and accessible. Ever had a wonder-moment of stargazing – when someone points out Polaris, the Big Dipper, and if you’re lucky, Saturn? Except 5 minutes later, the sky returns to dots. Just dots. Nothing looks like a dipper. But everything looks like a dot.

That is my dilemma: a deep interest in astronomy, yet a lack of navigational skills. The stories about the stars and planets, however, kept my interest alive. The mythic Olympian crowd and their in-fighting, the all-knowing Zodiac (“You’re especially intuitive today… and feeling very optimistic”) and the brilliant, awe-inspiring scientific discoveries.  I’ve existed on their stories alone until very recently.

This is what happened:

One evening last week, I saw a group of our neighbors gathered on the street: necks craned, phones pointed at the sky. Ambling aimlessly (zombie-like would be accurate, but I’ll refrain from using the z-word because I like my neighbors).  Turns out, far from being undead, they were using an app that brings information about the celestial bodies to you: interpreting the heavens, literally from where you stand. Want to see Saturn? Jupiter? The trajectory of the Sun and where it will set? (Think of the photo opportunities here…knowing exactly where the sunset will be. No more last-minute dashes around trees or rocks to capture the perfect sunset). The immediacy of information is incredible and powerful.

So I joined my neighbors in the street, tracking Saturn, the moon, and finding Polaris. I don’t know why it is so wonderful knowing which celestial body is which. It just is. To be able, at last, to smile up into the night sky and say good evening to Saturn: it’s wonderful. To stalk Saturn across the heavens: exhilarating. Now the stories and the physical nature of the cosmos can coexist in my reality.

That’s the beauty of learning something new. Everything else adjusts to let the new knowledge in, and once the dust settles, you find your brain ticking just a little bit faster- checking for parallels, bridges to new ideas, inconsistencies and applications.



(a few titles  -available at the Chandramohan Library- to whet your appetite for celestial information:

How I Killed Pluto and Why It Had It Coming. –Mike Brown (call number: 523.492 BRO).

Powers of Ten: About the Relative Size of Things in the Universe. –Philip Morrison and Phylis Morrison, and  the Office of Charles and Ray Eames. (call number: 523.1 MOR).

Galileo’s Daughter: A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith and Love. –Dava Dobel. (call number: 520.92 SOB).

A Walk Through the Heavens: A Guide to Stars and Constellations and Their Legends. – Milton D. Heifetz and Wil Tirion (call number: 523.8 HEI).

Moonscapes: A Celebration of Lunar Astronomy, Magic, Legend and Lore. –Rosemary Ellen Guiley. (call number: 523.3 GUI).

Origins: Fourteen Billion Years of Cosmic Evolution. –Neil deGrasse Tyson and Donald Goldsmith (call number: 523.1 TYS).)

-Mrs. Eldridge

What We Make and Who We Are

Taylor Mali is a contemporary poet I’ve only recently discovered.  I received a link from a librarian colleague that impressed me so much, I feel compelled to share it with you…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuBmSbiVXo0&feature=related 

Yes, this poem is about teachers, but I’d like to take a little leap into the topic of *What Librarians Make*.  Our careers are on the line in many school districts across the country.  Some administrators call the position of librarian antiquated.  One independent school in Massachusetts took the radical step of ridding the library of all its print books, purchased more computers and Kindles, and added a coffee machine to their former library.  Said the headmaster, “When I look at books, I see an outdated technology, like scrolls before books.” (Boston Globe, “Welcome to the Library. Say Goodbye to the Books” by David Abel.  4Sep, 2009.) What???  Have we not kept thousands of beautifully illuminated scrolls and manuscripts in our libraries and institutions of higher learning, despite the advent of the printed book?  Not all books in or out of print are available in electronic format.  Not all Google sites are created equal. 

So, back to my original thought…What Librarians Make…we make books, periodicals, scholarly journals, vetted websites, media, and databases available for our library users.  We slog through  less-than-accurate web sources to supply the very best information for students and teachers.  We help students find strategies to develop research skills, how to evaluate websites, how to cite sources, and, of course, how to find great books to read.  There’s more, but I won’t belabor the point. 

The bottom line?  The old model of the librarian and library are long gone, but they’ve morphed into something pretty darned exciting.  The incorporation of databases, eBooks, rss feeds, blogs, wikis, QR codes, and a wide variety of media haven’t replaced the books and periodicals we already have.  Technology works alongside print material and traditional media.  It can enhance the information and literature we find in print and often makes it readily available to many users at once.  I can’t think of a better career.

Mrs. Hodge

Wish List

 3 good books in a row. Does it get any better than that? The Night Circus, Major Pettigrew's Last Stand and the Handmaid's Tale. Reading this week by headlamp, without the distraction of Internet and electrical (time-saving) appliances, was delightful and reflective. It gave me time to think about types of fictional writing.  Some works are escapist, allowing a full and complete immersion into another world. A blissful disconnect from reality. By contrast, other works provide such a disparate setting, premise or characters that you can only relate to them through a comparison of your own concept of reality. These works invite a dialog between the text and the reader. To parse out the significance of big philosophical ideas like cruelty, or fidelity.  Or to contemplate the quirks of a character. But whether your taste is for escapism or a contemplative novel, the real deal in fiction....... is the story. This chewy quote from The Night Circus flies straight to the heart of story:

Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in somone's soul, becomes their blood and self purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words.

And you? What are you looking forward to reading during the quiet moments of the holiday season? Will it move you to contemplation? Or whisk you away?

The students naturally gravitate to the book on the counter, picking it up and marveling at the recipes (Green with Envy Pesto Pasta, Fightin' Fried Squirrel, Butter Cookies from Peeta's Father). But then their eyes widen as we tell them that the author is sitting at the librarian's desk, that she went to school at Prep and yes, she really did write the book. This week in the library, we've had the pleasure of working with Emily Ansara Baines, a former Flintridge Prep student (class of 2003) and author. We've enjoyed showing off her new book, The Unofficial Hunger Games Cookbook. And while she was here, she agreed to write a guest blog for the Very Unusual Librarians.

When I embarked upon my middle school Prep education in the fall of 1997, I had two measures for success: having a million friends, and publishing The Great American Novel.  As Prep had less than a million students, and I had yet to learn the difference between effect and affect, these were lofty if not impossible goals.
Still, they were mine, and the publishing goal especially I kept close to the chest, like a warm blanket I could snuggle on those cold Californian nights when I was crying over the chromosome chapter in my AP Bio textbook or the fact that I had not been cast in my dream roll in the all-school musical.  This too will pass, I told myself with each passing year, and one day I will be published.
The creative writing teacher at the time, Mrs. Leidenthal, wisely told me that if my only reason for writing was to be published I’d never become a good writer.  This was sound advice, so of course I ignored it.  Every short story I wrote for every class, I set aside to send off to a literary magazine.  I was so cool I signed my name at the end of each submission with a purple sparkle gel pen.  Of course, if I heard back at all, it was your standard rejection.
College came, and while I never found my college English classes as difficult as, say, Mr. Vaughn's Honors American Literature class, my writing improved with age.  Beloved writer and mentor Aimee Bender (check out her work!) spent many hours helping me improve my craft, and while T.C. Boyle called one story of mine a great disappointment, he praised my second effort. I learned to manage rejection with much more elegance and much less bitterness than I had at Prep.  As I spent hours considering the harsh reality that most of my stories would never see the light of day, I remembered how to enjoy writing for writing's sake.  And then I started to get published.
This is no fairy-tale.  The best things I've ever written have been rejected hundreds of times, while stories I would vomit out in the span of seconds enjoy some moderate success in often unknown online publications.  The story I am still most proud of I wrote in elementary school (it was about seven cats that go shopping).  Taste is fickle.  People, no matter how proficient the prose, will reject you for reasons you  might never understand.  This fact is not just part of being a writer, it's part of life.

Indeed, while I have a cookbook out, and I am beyond thrilled and grateful for such luck, I am still far from my goal of writing and publishing the next Great American novel.  I may attempt to write it, I may become distracted by other projects. Yet, I know Mrs. Leidenthal-- and all the teachers at Flintridge Prep who echoed her message-- were right.  Captivating writing, perhaps even great writing, the writing you read in the books we play watch guard over here at the library, is not accomplished by some child with the singular goal of publication.  It is accomplished when the author has something to say, without regard to whether one person or a million reads their words.  I struggle with this constantly, I think all writers do, but this is the best piece of advice I can offer any and all the writers at Flintridge Prep.  If you sit down and write that essay, that poem, that short story simply because Mr. Bachmann or Mr. Myers requires it, you're not going to write anything worth reading.  But if you write even a paragraph because you have knowledge or an opinion to impart, you're on your way to a good -- if not downright interesting-- piece of prose.

Now if only that helped me on my goal of making a million friends.  Current Facebook Friend Count: 674.



Emily Ansara Baines