The Clock

The clock now reads 10:33pm. I'm winding down, preparing to go to bed. A week ago, when the clock said 9:33 at this same time, I wasn't even thinking about bed yet. The evening was still young! The clock proved it. It was only 9:33, and I never go to bed at 9:33.

But 10:33? Yes, sometimes I go to bed at 10:33.

Earlier this evening, at 7:05, Bradley seemed tired (and I'll be honest, he had worn me out, and I was (just a little) tired of him), so I started settling him down for the night. A week ago, at 6:05, I would not have dreamed of putting him to bed so early. Instead, I would have watched the clock, enduring an hour of grumpiness and mischief until it was "legal" to say night-night.

I am completely fascinated by this phenomenon of Western culture.

Granted, I am a very time-conscious person. But how is it really possible that I can look at the clock, and just because it says 9:33, I have energy, and just because it says 10:33, I feel tired?

Bradley easily went to bed tonight. If I had really tried to put him to bed just after 6:00 last week, would it have been so easy?

Something in my gut says no.

But something in my gut also says yes.

The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate

Even though this book received a lot of pre-Newbery buzz, if it hadn't ended up winning the medal, it would have been one of those books that quickly faded from my radar. In fact, it's very unlikely that I would have ever read it. But then, of course, it did win the Newbery medal, and that made me take a second look at it and also moved it to the top of my to-read list. The Newbery does things like that.

Initially, I had no interest in reading this book because...well, I tend to be a little prejudiced against animal books. I blame it on the fact that I'm not much of an animal person myself. (Memories of the sheer agony and torture of suffering through Big Red in the fifth grade are flooding back to me now. I seriously thought I'd never make it through that book.) But I've also noticed that when I do force myself to read something with an animal as the main character, I like it better when the animal has a voice.

And let me tell you, if there's one thing Ivan has, it's a voice.

Ivan is a silverback gorilla. He was born in an African rain forest but was taken from his home (along with his twin sister) when he was still in his youth. He was purchased by a man named Mack and eventually came to live (along with several other exotic animals) at the Exit 8 Big Top Mall and Video Arcade where they perform shows at "two, four, and seven, 365 days a year." Ivan's best friends are an elephant named Stella and a stray dog named Bob. Ivan has discovered that the only way to survive is to forget what he has lost. But then Ruby arrives, a young elephant fresh out of Africa. And she forces Ivan to remember. Once he remembers, he knows he has to do something.

Although fictional, the foundation for this story is true: there really is a gorilla named Ivan (he currently lives at Zoo Atlanta--EDIT: Danzel brought to my attention that Ivan actually passed away in August of last year. I just assumed since the book was published last year that it was still accurate. Sadly, it is not.), and for 27 years he lived in a cage in a circus-themed mall in Washington state. The real Ivan also loves to paint, just like the fictional Ivan. I love a story like this that has its roots in truth. (The Circus Ship, which I've raved about far too many times, is another one that used a true story as inspiration.) For me, if I know part of the story is true, even if it is just a very small part, it makes the whole story that much more fascinating.

I have no idea what the thoughts of a real gorilla are like, but Ivan's own thoughts and words are pretty convincing. He is brusque and to-the-point ("Humans waste words. They toss them like banana peels and leave them to rot."), and "brusque and to-the-point" is how I would describe real gorillas. But then, Ivan also has a personality that is distinctly his own: he is gentle but powerful, clever but sarcastic. He hides his pain while at the same time looking for ways to help others through theirs. He sounds like someone you might want for a friend except that he is guarded and distant when it comes to most humans.

The fact that Ivan doesn't mince words meant that this book flew by. I'm visiting my family in Colorado right now, and I easily started and finished it on the drive here (with plenty of singing songs, dishing out snacks, and finding lost markers interspersed throughout). It looks like a decent length, but there is a lot of white space on the page. Ivan is short and concise throughout.

In some ways, I loved how quickly it moved. I loved the way Ivan could say so much with so little. But then, it was over, and I felt like I'd barely spent any time with the characters. And indeed, I hadn't. To think that with some books I might spend several days, sometimes even several weeks, reading and thinking and remembering, but then with this one, even though there was so much to think and remember about, it was over so quickly that the characters didn't really have a chance to sink in. And yet, I can't imagine it being longer. Ivan would have ceased to be Ivan. To add more would have morphed him into a completely different character. (So instead, I'm spending as long writing this review as I did reading the book so I can better remember it.)

Even if I wouldn't have changed it, another downside to Ivan's succinct voice is that a lot of the side stories never get fully fleshed out, nor do they really resolve themselves in the end. For example, there's so much we never learn about Julia and her hardworking father and her ill mother (but then, Ivan probably didn't know a lot about them either). Also, we never really learn Mack's complete story--why his marriage failed and if he was successful after the circus was shut down. Again, I think it was staying true to Ivan's voice to leave these threads hanging, but as a reader, I felt the gaps.

As much as I loved Ivan (and Ruby and Julia and Stella), I think Bob (the stray dog) may have been my favorite character. He was not an act in the Exit 8 Big Top Mall circus show. Rather, he was an uninvited guest and most of the time stayed conveniently out of sight so that "mall workers long ago gave up trying to catch him." There was a small hole in one of the bottom corners of Ivan's "domain" (his word, not mine), and every night, Bob climbed through the hole and fell asleep on Ivan's large and comfortable stomach. Bob's lines were some of my favorite because he had a snarky side to him.  One night, he and Ivan are having a little argument. Bob calls the billboard outside the mall a "monstrosity" since he's not on it. And Ivan reminds him that he's not in the show so has no reason to be on the billboard. Then Bob says, "Technically, I don't even live here. I am homeless by choice." By this time in the story, you know that this is the perfect line for Bob: a little self-righteous and indignant, and it's just funny when you picture a tiny little dog saying it.

About a third of the way through the story, Ivan promises to take care of Ruby and find a safe home for her away from the mall. He becomes consumed with this promise and stays up night after night (much to the annoyance of Bob who wants him for a bed) painting a picture to express to Julia (or anyone who will pay attention) what he wants for Ruby. It never occurs to him that by providing a better life for her, he might provide a better one for himself as well. And then, when it happens, he's so surprised and a little taken aback. I thought this was a beautiful example of true, selfless friendship: even though he has lived in a small cage for many years, he never once thinks about changing that for himself. He only thinks of Ruby.

All in all, it was a beautiful and touching story, well-told and expressed. And as I was writing this review, I remembered other animal stories I have read and loved (Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, The Trumpet of the Swan, The Cricket in Times Square, to name a few), so guess I should take this as a lesson and in the future not be so quick to judge a book with an animal on the cover.

P.S. Soon after this book won the Newbery, I read a little statement from Katherine Applegate that I loved. She said she "recently found a scrap of paper, something she had written a few years ago. On it were the words, 'Should I give up on Ivan or not?' She [said], 'I was at one of those many places you get to in a book, where I say, "I just can’t make it work." For some reason this piece of paper stuck around. I’m going to have it framed.'"

The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer

This was my first taste of Georgette Heyer, and it delighted me in every way. Luckily, she wrote over fifty books during her lifetime, so I think I'm set for a good long while.

When the novel begins, things are a little bit strained in the Rivenhall household: Lord Ombersley has squandered all his money (and he has seven children, so, you know, he should probably feel his duty a little bit more than he does); his eldest son, Charles, is grimly trying to reconcile all of his father's accounts and fill the role of "responsible adult." Cecilia Rivenhall is in love with a ridiculous poet even though a very respectable marriage has been arranged for her with Lord Charlbury. Charles himself is also engaged, and his fiancée, Miss Eugenia Wraxton, is insufferably proper and arrogant. In the midst of all this, Lady Ombersley's brother, Sir Horace Stanton-Lacy, arrives unexpectedly and asks if his daughter, Sophy, can stay with the family while he is away in Brazil. Lady Ombersley is expecting a shy young woman in need of motherly guidance and love. What she gets instead is "the grand Sophy," a strong-willed, independent female who quickly takes their situation in hand and does her best to remedy it.

Sophy caught me by surprise, almost as much as she does the Rivenhalls in the novel. I think I was expecting her to be more like Jane Austen's Emma. And while she does have some similarities (an unquenchable desire to fix everyone's problems being one of them), she is much more spunky, high-spirited, and at times even a little bit vulgar. (She drives wild and dangerous horses, she settles matters with unscrupulous debtors, and she pretends to compromise herself with a man in order to bring lovers together. She even carries around a pearl-handled pistol and uses it quite freely.) There was a part of me that loved Sophy fiercely and another part of me that was pretty certain she would drive me crazy in real life. I could totally relate to Charles' feelings of exasperation but then also couldn't help but laugh at some of her ridiculous and well-meaning antics. As she said so well when she was explaining one of her plans to Lord Charlbury: "Pray don't be afraid of me! I never do people any harm--indeed I don't!"

There were two scenes that I especially loved: first, when Charles discovers that instead of a small, intimate party of no more than 20 guests, Sophy has organized a grand-scale event involving upwards of 400 people; and second, when Sophy is being threatened by the disgusting Mr. Goldhanger but instead of backing down, Sophy pulls out her pistol and threatens him. Even though this novel has all the elements of a regency romance, it has quite a bit of "action" too, which kept me very entertained. The ending was another favorite: the whole scene was absolutely comical, from the little ducklings trying to escape their box to the Marquesa butchering chickens in the kitchen to Lord Bromford's pathetic cold. It just made me laugh.

I thought Miss Wraxton and Sophy posed a striking contrast to each other. Both of them are somewhat meddlesome, always sticking their noses in other people's affairs. But they go about it in such vastly different ways. Miss Wraxton pretends she isn't prying but when confronted with the evidence, she claims she is only doing it for the good of others and using her own spotless reputation and good standing to pull others (namely Sophy) away from their unseemly associations. Sophy, on the other hand, approaches each new problem with candor and good humor and gladly sacrifices herself to help others. I just found it so interesting that although you could use some of the same adjectives to describe these women, they were as different as night and day.

Hubert was another character I found highly intriguing. He was the third child in the Rivenhall family, younger than Charles but older than Cecilia (and Sophy). For at least the first half of the book, I was picturing him as being several years younger than Sophy, maybe 16 or 17, but then it becomes obvious that he is actually older than she is, putting him somewhere in his early 20's. Besides the whole episode where he confesses that he is in a great amount of debt, I found much of his behavior incredibly immature, which is why I thought he was so much younger than he really was. Again, it was just another interesting contrast, 1) because Charles is so well-grounded and you would think his younger brother would have similar traits and 2) because even though Sophy is full of so much levity, you feel like she is clear-minded and wise whereas Hubert is just interested in having a good time. The reality though is that siblings do not all come in the same package, and it is very likely that the oldest child would feel the full weight of duty while a younger child might be perfectly happy to do whatever he pleases.

As far as the various romances, I loved the fact that Cecilia fell head over heels for a poet only to realize that he was nothing like what she really wanted and that what she really wanted was what she easily could have had from the very beginning. I thought this passage summed it up beautifully: "Lord Charlbury might be constitutionally incapable of addressing her as Nymph, or of comparing bluebells unfavourably with her eyes, but Lord Charlbury would infallibly provide a cloak for her if the weather were inclement, lift her over obstacles she could well climb without assistance, and in every way convince her that in his eyes she was a precious being whom it was impossible to guard too carefully." I think so often it is the penniless, star-struck lovers that are encouraged and applauded because for some reason, we seem to believe you can only be in love if you're starving. It was a nice change to be cheering for the sensible man instead of the one whispering sweet nothings.

I will just add one word of caution: contrary to what you may suppose, this book actually had quite a bit of offensive language--not in the way of swearing (although there are a few mild words), but many instances of taking the name of God in vain (in a proper, British sort of way). This probably wouldn't bother some readers at all, but I didn't appreciate it.

If you are a fan of Jane Austen, I don't think you could help but love this book. It is witty and cheeky. It has action and romance. And they wear pretty dresses and ride in carriages. Need I say more?

Splendors and Glooms by Laura Amy Schlitz

Out of the four Newbery titles this year, Splendors and Glooms was the only one I was really kicking myself for not reading ahead of time. First of all, I had the book in my hands over Christmas break, but for whatever reason, it just wasn't grabbing me so I read other (far less notable) things instead. And also, from all the buzz I had been reading, I think I had an inkling that it was destined for greatness. Oh well, it's almost as much fun reading them after the fact as before. Then when you're saying, as I did while reading this one, "Oh my goodness! This is so good!" you feel like you're opinion is immediately justified because, oh yeah, it just won a Newbery Honor.

While in the midst of this book, Mike asked me what it was about, and I said, "It's unlike anything I've ever read" and proceeded to give a haphazard synopsis that just left Mike scratching his head and saying, "That is unlike anything I've ever read." I'll try to be somewhat more succinct here.

When the story begins, Clara Wintermute is excitedly anticipating the party for her 12th birthday. A few weeks before, she saw Gaspare Grisini's puppet show in the park and was delighted both by the show and also by his two young assistants, Parsefall and Lizzie Rose. Clara begs her father to hire the puppeteer for her birthday party, and although he is very distrustful of foreigners, he has a hard time denying Clara anything. (When she was but five years old, her four siblings contracted cholera and died, which means her parents are a bit overanxious and extravagant when it comes to Clara.) During the party, Clara succumbs to a fit of laughter, which embarrasses and distresses her mother and causes her to say some unkind things to Clara. The next day, Clara can't be found. At first, her parents are worried she ran away, but the more they think about it, the more convinced they become that Gaspare Grisini had something to do with it.

But that's only half of the story (which is why I was having such a difficult time describing it to Mike). There's also an ancient witch, Cassandra, who is desperate to be relieved of a fire opal, a powerful charm that is burning her alive. Many years ago, Grisini, knowing of the fire opal's power, tried to steal it from Cassandra. That attempt ended badly for Grisini, but now Cassandra wants him back. She is convinced if she can only tempt one of his young assistants to steal it from her, she can be freed from the curse which is torturing her.

The adjective "well-crafted" is often used to describe tight, interweaving plots with dense character development. And "well-crafted" is exactly how I would describe Splendors and Glooms. The plot is rich and mysterious and unfolds very slowly and meticulously. I have no idea what Laura Amy Schlitz's writing habits are like, but I imagine her shuffling around the scenes and rewriting them over and over again until they are exactly where and how they should be. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Schlitz can get all the details right the first time, but I think it's more likely that the details take time to come together, and that certain elements can only work themselves out by being written one way and then rewritten another way.

For example, there is one scene where Clara's father is waiting to give a large ransom to an unknown individual. When the scene ends, he is still waiting for the clock to strike midnight and the kidnapper to appear. Meanwhile, certain events transpire that make it impossible for anyone to come for the ransom money. For several chapters, the reader knows, in part, how the events of the evening played out, but what of Clara's father? What was that long, cold, horrible night like for him? In my imagining, I picture Schlitz originally including a description of Clara's father's night not long after the other details are given. But then she deletes that scene, choosing instead to save the details for later in the story when Clara's father shares them with Lizzie Rose. I had to wait a long time for that information, and when it finally came, I thought it was perfectly placed. There are many instances similar to that one where I really had to wait for little details and pieces of information. And the waiting made the finding out so much sweeter. Does anyone else picture the writing habits of authors? Or am I just weird like that? I love to learn about the journeys that authors go on with their stories until the final draft surfaces, uncluttered and clean and beautiful.

Along the same lines, many times as I was reading, I was sure I had figured out some element of the story only to be completely wrong. When Clara recognizes that Parsefall's life is in danger because of the fire opal, I was sure she was going to sacrifice herself and beat him to it. But that didn't happen (at least, not at that point), and I just think it is a delightful experience to always be guessing and supposing, even if half the time you end up completely wrong.

I will say three honest things about this story; these aren't necessarily criticisms, more just observations. First, this is a very slow-moving story. Beautiful, yes. Captivating, yes. Suspenseful, yes. But slow. There are many conversations that go on for pages and pages with very little transpiring in the end. I even found the epilogue, which takes place at a funeral, to be never-ending, even though it was, in fact, the end. So this is not a story you would read if you wanted a fast-paced page-turner. You would read this if you want to get lost in a really amazing story. One upside to slow plot development is that the characters have plenty of time to come alive. I loved them, especially Lizzie Rose and Parsefall. I wanted to adopt Parsefall.

Second, this story is dark. I was actually surprised with how mature some of the content was. If I was recommending it, I would give it to children ages 12 and up. The puppeteer, Grisini, is an evil man. He is physically and emotionally and verbally abusive to Lizzie Rose and Parsefall. He is motivated by frighteningly wicked motives and intentions. There is also quite a bit of violence: Grisini has a near-fatal fall down the stairs; Cassandra uses the fire opal to make him bleed profusely; and Grisini meets his end by drowning and then being frozen under the ice. There were definitely some gruesome moments. Plus, some of the subject matter is just hard to deal with: Parsefall and Lizzie Rose live in really deplorable conditions, and Parsefall's fear and anxiety are really heart-wrenching.

Third, for most of the book moving so slow, the actual climax (particularly the destruction of the fire opal) was a little fast for me. Just my opinion.

I listened to the audio, which was narrated by Devina Porter. She was fantastic. It was a treat to listen to her interpretation of the characters. I think my favorite voice was Parsefall's. She nailed him. He sounded every bit the street urchin I imagined him to be.

It occurred to me more than once that this is the kind of book you expect to receive Newbery recognition. The writing is brilliant. The story is fresh and original. The characters are people you would actually want to meet. And when you're done, it stays with you in a really good way.

KidPages: Three of Maxwell's Recent Favorites

In honor of Maxwell's recent birthday, here are three books that have recently been popular with this three-year-old:

1. Let's Sing a Lullaby With the Brave Cowboy, Jan Thomas
Our family first fell in love with Jan Thomas when we read and loved the extremely popular Rhyming Dust Bunnies (extremely popular for good reason). But this one is a very close second.

Cowboy and his cows are hunkering down for the night. Cowboy is singing a lullaby (It's time for little cows to rest their heads...), but his lullaby keeps getting interrupted when he sees scary looking shadows. His cows bravely assure him that there's nothing to be frightened of, until Cowboy sees a shadow that bears a striking resemblance to a large gray wolf...

Jan Thomas has a unique, recognizable style. Her illustrations are set apart with bold, thick strokes, and the details are limited. They kind of have a cartoon-like quality that is both engaging and fun. The text is also a part of the illustrations; it is contained in conversation bubbles and is big or little, colored or plain depending on the emphasis desired. (The one thing I'm extremely curious about is why Cowboy only ever has four fingers on each hand instead of five?)

This book is a great readaloud (as are all of Jan Thomas' books) because of all the delightful little twists and surprises: Cowboy is happily singing his lullaby when, "EEEEEK!" he sees a spider. The "EEEEK!" is perfectly placed for maximum hilarity. Towards the end, Cowboy thinks he has everything figured out--surely that shape that looks like a huge, shaggy gray wolf is really just a big giant bunny rabbit. Such a moment offers the listeners a chance to jump in and shout, "No, Cowboy! It's a wolf!"

It's more than just interactive: the text is simple and sparse enough that Aaron can easily read it, and Maxwell can easily memorize it and pretend to read it. One evening not too long ago, I read it once, then Maxwell read it, then Aaron read it, then Maxwell read it again. The only problem occurred when they kept jumping in on the other one's turn to read. They couldn't help themselves. It's that addictive.

2. Too Tall Houses, Gianna Marino
Sometimes we check out too many books from the library. I know, can you believe I'm admitting that such a thing is possible? But it is. Sometimes we check out so many books in a week that we literally cannot keep up with them. The problem with this is that then, when Max asks me to read a book we've already read, I tell him, "Maxwell, we have a huge stack of books we haven't read yet! I'm not going to read that one again." And that's really too bad. Because sometimes, most of the fun and joy comes in the rereading, and if you never reread it, then you really miss out. It's one of those balance issues I'm trying to work out.

But this book couldn't help but be reread. Not only is it a super cute story; and not only are the illustrations something to be sucked into; but also, it is the perfect length (meaning, it is not too long), and I am far more likely to reread a book that will only take me 3 minutes instead of 23 minutes.

Owl and Rabbit are next door neighbors. Rabbit loves to tend his garden while Owl prefers perching and enjoying his gorgeous view. But one day, the harmony of their universe comes apart when Rabbit's vegetables grow up into Owl's view. So Owl builds his house a little taller, but that throws Rabbit's vegetables into the shade, so he builds his house a little taller. This continues until both houses are high up in space with the earth a mere dot below them. Neither one can enjoy the things he loves. Luckily, both houses go crashing to the ground, which puts an end to the ridiculousness and leaves them with just enough materials to build one perfect house to share.

The illustrations are what really pull the reader into this story. If you think about it, the story doesn't really go anywhere: the whole thing involves the same two characters squabbling over the same piece of land for the entire book. But the perspective is constantly changing, and in such creative ways, too. This makes each page look and feel very different from the one before it.

I actually thought about buying this one for Maxwell for his birthday because he has enjoyed it so much, but the bookstore didn't have it, and I didn't leave myself enough time to order it. (Plus, they did have Let's Sing a Lullaby With the Brave Cowboy, and I decided that one would do just as well.)

3. Yes Day!, Amy Krouse Rosenthal, illus. Tom Lichtenheld
We discovered Amy Krouse Rosenthal only a few months ago, but she was something of an instant favorite, and we have now read a sizable number of her books.

In this book, Rosenthal takes an ordinary day and turns it into Yes Day, which basically means saying "yes" to all silly, extravagant, and ridiculous requests. Can I have pizza for breakfast? Yes. Can I stay up really late? Of course you can. It is a kid's dream come true.

Maxwell was completely enthralled. It had never occurred to him that such a day might even be possible. He loved the examples in the book, but he also loved thinking up his own things he would love for me to say yes to.

I've been tempted to give my kids a Yes Day just for the sheer fun of it. But I haven't because I'm also a little worried with what they might ask for, and Yes Day would only be fun if you really did say yes to every single request. I had a little trial run on Maxwell's birthday, but I failed. I asked Max what he wanted for his birthday breakfast. I said, "You can have anything! Whatever you want!" And what do you think that little stinker said? "Oooh, I want candy for my breakfast!!!" It would have been the perfect opportunity to say yes since birthdays are kind of like Yes Days anyway, but I said no and promptly squashed that moment for fun.

I shared this post with The Children's Bookshelf and the Kid Lit Blog Hop.

The Bright and Not-So-Bright

It's Maxwell's third birthday today. And celebrating his birthday is definitely the bright spot in our otherwise not-so-fantastic week.

On Sunday morning, I felt a little under the weather, but by the afternoon I was being slammed up the side of the head with something downright beastly.

And it has been beastly: a really raw sore throat, a racking hacking cough, no appetite, and complete fatigue. I also lost my voice. Like, completely. On Wednesday, each time my phone rang, I had to send out a text that said, "Sorry. My voice is gone. Can't talk."

Sadly, I've shared my plague with each of the boys, and all but Mike have also gotten it. (Thank goodness Mike was spared. He kept things in order.)

But besides illness, Mike came home late Tuesday night with a paper in his hands. I was already in bed, but I asked, "What's that?" "Something not good," he said.

It was an accident report. While he was at school, someone ran into our (parked) car. Mike is inclined to see this as a good thing since (A) he wasn't in the car, (B) it wasn't his fault, and (C) our car is almost 20 years old and would have had to be replaced in the soonish future anyway. But I like being able to do things on my own time, and I wanted to be able to drive our car for at least another year while Mike finishes school and we save some money. And sadly, it does have to be replaced. (The repairs were going to cost $5000, and the car isn't even worth half that.) Plus, I actually loved our car. It was a '94 Buick LeSabre, and man, it was one posh ride--roomy and comfortable with all the latest gadgets 1994 had to offer. We will miss our dear Millie.

But, like I said, today is Maxwell's birthday, and things are looking up. He's about the cutest birthday boy you ever did see (in spite of his nose, which continues to run). He has exclaimed with pure joy over every delightful happening.

And like any polite boy should, anytime someone wishes him a happy birthday, he says, "Happy birthday to you, too."

How the Trumpet is Helping Me Survive Winter

One evening a couple weeks ago, I was driving home and listening to the classical radio station. Amidst the chatter of my boys, my attention was captured by a piece I'd never heard before. The melody was haunting and melancholy. It was performed on a muted trumpet, which gave it more of a reed-like timbre, almost like an oboe. It sounded somewhat contemporary with a bit of a jazz edge.

"This is beautiful," I told the boys, and for just a moment, they stopped to listen, too.

As the piece drew to a close, I begged the boys not to talk for just one minute more. I knew I'd only have one chance to hear (and try to remember) the name of the piece and the composer or performer. And I knew I absolutely had to remember it so I could listen to it again. And then it came:

"We have just been listening to 'Oblivion' ["Oblivion"...at least it's in English] by Astor ---------------------. [Astor...isn't their a flower called an aster?] That was Tina ---------------------------- performing. Tina is from Norway, and her name is spelled T-I-N-E. [Unusual spelling. I can remember that. How kind of him to spell it.]

I pulled up to our house, hurried to unbuckle the boys, and then rushed inside, all the time repeating the key facts I knew: Oblivion. Astor. Tine. Oblivion. Astor. Tine.

It was enough. I typed "Oblivion Tine" into the search field, and a video immediately popped up. (Sometimes I love the internet.) 

The trumpet soloist's name is Tine Thing Helseth. (The composer's name is Ástor Piazzolla.) This piece was not originally written for the trumpet. I think it was an orchestral work first for maybe solo cello. Or possibly oboe. The other versions I heard were slower with less jazz.

I spent the rest of the evening listening to any other videos of Tine Thing Helseth I could find.  I hate to sound immediately disloyal to "Oblivion," but when I heard her play "In the Bleak Midwinter," I couldn't help but love it even more. I have always loved that song, and for some reason, probably because I am in the "bleak midwinter" right now, it spoke to my soul. Gorgeous.

And then, what do you think? Of course I checked out her most recent CD from the library.

To think that a month ago, I'd never even heard of Helseth, and now I can't stop talking about her. It makes me excited to see what other discoveries are just around the corner.