December was another great month of reading so this will be a double post. I normally have motivation for days. I wake up running and zig-zag happily through my daily lists and projects until I fall into bed. For whatever reason I struggled with motivation in December. Any chance I could, any small break I had I was either napping or reading. I think it's possible I was trying to hibernate.
Here are my December favorites!
Every Child a Song by Nicola Davies and illustrated by Marc Martin (Picture Book)
Reading the Foreword and also The Rights of the UNCRC at the end of the book are musts. Usually I'll skip a foreword completely or read it at the end if I really enjoy a book. But after I read this book I thought to myself, "holy moly, this is a super heavy topic to talk about with children. How does one explain to children what their rights are and that some kids don't have them?" That's when I read everything else in the book. I think Every Child a Song raises more questions than answers, but I think this is a good thing. It's one of those books that sneaks up on you and makes you wonder about a lot things. The gorgeous illustrations certainly help balance the heaviness of the topic.
milk and honey by rupi kaur (Adult Nonfiction)
I tried reading this book when it first came out and remember feeling immensely uncomfortable with the content (sexual abuse alert) and also a little perturbed by the simplicity of the poems. I put it on my poetry shelf with a note to try it again later. So I did, and I definitely still feel uncomfortable, but I also now recognize I need to embrace my own vulnerability if I'm going to read something so brazenly vulnerable and open.
Even though the book is broken up into four sections - the hurting, the loving, the breaking, the healing, Kaur's journey from shame to self-empowerment isn't linear. Her hurting is evident even during the healing, and you can tell that writing about the hurt and sharing it with others is healing. This is how trauma works, and I'm so glad Kaur has represented it this way.
Though Kaur is definitely taking the easiest route to connect with others, and her poetry is tailored for social media, it is surprisingly profound at times. I also feel like her story and message aren't compromised by accessibility (I love accessible poetry, but it can go too far). I also appreciate any book that helps others heal and builds connections through its words. I'm glad I didn't donate this after the first reading and it’s a good reminder to give books a second chance. On days, when I'm feeling vulnerable or consumed in some of that dark stuff that tends to mire us all every now and then, I will definitely reach for this book. Oh and yes, there's artwork. Not my cup of tea, but there are lots of people who have gotten tattoos of it, so I'm in the minority on this one.
I will leave you with my favorite poem, "we are all born so beautiful the greatest tragedy is being convinced we are not."
Snapdragon by Kat Leyh (Juvenile Graphic Fiction)
This is my new favorite middle grade graphic novel. The characters are just so real and their strengths and flaws so beautifully portrayed. The main character, Snaps, isn't pretty and she definitely isn't feminine but she totally embraces it. She has a surly face, giant eyebrows, and doesn't like 'girly' clothes. She is also incredibly loving, charismatic as all get out, and enthusiastic about her passions. She's pretty much my hero. The other characters are equally detailed and beautiful. Snaps' mom, Violet, kicks butt as a single mom. Though she's working hard, she's very much involved in Snaps' life. There is a moment where Snaps gives her friend, Lulu, her mom's purple skirt without asking. It's a huge step for Lulu to wear the skirt. The way that Violet handles the situation is kind and accepting, and just about the best way to let a kid know they've got someone in their corner. Though I love all the characters, I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that Jacks is my favorite. I was smitten the moment she took off her witchy cape and revealed a punny shirt and crocs. She's tough and crotchety in all the best ways, but also caring and soft. She's a character full of surprises and contradictions and gives so much life to everything she loves. The illustrations are also wonderful. The expressions on the characters faces are always spot on and invoke so much emotion. There are also lots of little details in the illustrations I love - how Leyh makes the trailer park a homey place, captures the true spirit of opossums, and gives Jacks lots of great shirts. At the end of the book Leyh talks about her process and shows the reader some character sketches. While reading this I wondered if Leyh tried to become each of her characters for a week or two at a time, and after looking at her character sketches I'm now convinced of this.
Vesper Flights by Helen Macdonald (Adult Nonfiction)
I enjoyed the variety of the essays, the beautiful language, and the vein of humor and delight running throughout Macdonald's adventures. I am amazed with how well Macdonald wraps up each essay. Her essay endings were tidy, circular, soulful, and oftentimes raised more questions, even though they wrapped up so neatly. Think of people who professionally wrap presents and that's exactly how Macdonald wraps up her essays (pun totally intended). I've never had the end of an essay affect me so deeply, and there were several that did this.
Her essays are the everlasting gobstoppers of the essay world. Her yearning to smooth the wrinkles out of this world and preserve its sacred spaces will overwhelm you at times and leave you forever mulling over her words. Her descriptions are like pops of art scattered throughout. In the essay, Nest, she writes, "One was a chaffinch nest I could balance in the palm of my hand, a thing of horsehair and moss, pale scabs of lichen and moulted pigeon feathers..." In another essay, Sex, Death, Mushrooms, she plants a beautiful metaphor: "Soon Nick and I come across scores of mushrooms set in ragged half-circles, their broad tops like cooling milky coffees inexplicably placed among dead leaves."
She gave words to feelings I hadn't yet acknowledged, let alone described. There were moments where it felt like she was holding up binoculars and looking straight into my very being. Her essay about Field Guides captures this best, especially the line, "Field guides made possible the joy of encountering a thing I already knew but had never seen before."
And I can't forget about the moments where I gasped with wonder - when she makes clucking noises while holding a falcon egg close to her mouth, and the ready-to-hatch chick calls back. When she writes that "...in Baltic mythology, mushrooms were thought to be the fingers of the god of the dead bursting through the ground to feed the poor." How do I not caress every mushroom I see after reading that?
Vesper Flights is a beautiful ode to nature and the preservation of it. I'm not sure how I can tell you about all my favorite moments without reading you the entire book. If I had to choose a favorite moment, it would be when the swan plopped down next to her in the essay, The Observatory, the body of the swan "so close her wing-feathers were pressed against [her] thighs." If I had to choose a favorite essay, I would choose the one about pushing goats, which was so unexpected and made me laugh until I ran out of breath! I recommend this to anyone who needs to immerse themselves in wonder, for those who want to preserve it, and for anyone who loves Kathleen Dean Moore, Jennifer Ackerman, and Diane Ackerman.
Red Stilts by Ted Kooser (Adult Nonfiction)
The first poem, The Letter, is my favorite, but I don't recommend anyone reading it alone because it's a punch in the gut. He doesn't just recall a memory, he lives it, all while being grounded in the present. When he writes, "Maybe one day I'll come back, in a poem" I can't help but think of all the past places we live in while continuing our lives in the present moment. The poem, Recital, magnifies a small moment when a leaf, encouraged by the wind, plays the tire tracks left by a garbage truck like a piano. Another poem, House Moving, explores a cellar, which has just been opened up after a hundred years: "And the wind, with something new to do, is scouring out the damp rock cellar..." Kooser's humor and joy for life feel like that moment when I notice the twinkling of a small treasure buried in the dirt or leaves while I'm out for a walk. Sometimes I have to stop everything I'm doing and retrace my steps, and sometimes the treasure is the evidence of another person's loss. His observations encourage the reader to give life more attention, to ask our imaginations, "what do you make of that?"
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