The Book Blab Episode 2: Pretty Books for Pretty Gifts Plus Two Favorite Books Published in 2015

This past Wednesday evening, Suzanne and I got together via Blab for the second episode of our new monthly video series. Mike was out of town this week, and so I had to do some serious bribing to ensure that my kids didn't come screaming or tattling into the room while I was recording. Turns out, however, it wasn't my kids I needed to worry about but my other arch nemesis, technology.

So yes, we had a few little technical glitches, mostly on my end. At one point, my connection went a little crazy, and I couldn't hear Suzanne very well, which translated to some blank stares on my part. Luckily, the recording didn't capture those problems (but my blank stares are still there). Also, in listening to it again, there are a few seconds here and there where there is some weird feedback. So I apologize in advance for all of that. I'm discovering that this is one of the drawbacks with doing a live show.

But on the upside, this was an extremely fun episode to record. I honestly think we could have just kept talking and talking . . . and talking, but we showed some restraint so that you can easily watch the replay without it taking up half of your day. You're welcome.

In this episode, we talk about our book buying philosophies, beautiful editions of books, and other related topics. By the end of the night, it was all I could do not to buy every single one of the books we talked about. Consider that your warning: watch at your own risk.

In case you missed it live, you can watch the replay (technical glitches and all) below. And I'd love to hear you weigh in on some of the things we talked about in the comments!

0:20 - Christmas preparations

1:50 - Book buying philosophy

• 2:10 - Suzanne's
• 3:53 - Amy's

5:35 - Beautiful editions

• 5:53 - Suzanne's favorites
• 8:09 - Amy's favorites

11:32 - The problem of not being able to get the entire series in some editions

15:37 - Collected works (pros and cons)

17:42 - Thoughts on the newly illustrated Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

21:15 - (Some of) the books we're buying for Christmas

24:56 - Two favorite books that were published in 2015

• 25:50 - Suzanne's pick
• 27:08 - Amy's pick

30:34 - Conclusion

Links from the show:

The Count of Monte Cristo -  Penguin classics hardcover clothbound edition
Emily of New Moon - Sourcebook edition with cover illustration by Jacqui Oakley
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Puffin in Bloom edition
A Merry Christmas and Other Christmas Stories - Penguin Christmas Classics edition
Little Men - Hesperus Press edition
Anne of Green Gables - Puffin in Bloom edition
Anne of Green Gables - Aladdin classics edition
Jane Austen collected works - Barnes & Noble Collectible edition
The Chronicles of Narnia collection - Barnes & Noble Collectible edition
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - Arthur A. Levine Books edition, illustrated by Jim Kay
The Chronicles of Narnia - full color collector's edition by HarperTrophy
Suzanne's review of Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee  
Amy's review of The Penderwicks in Spring by Jeanne Birdsall
 
Now it's your turn: Tell me about the gorgeous editions YOU love, as well as the books you'll be splurging on this holiday season. (Also, what's your opinion on the newly illustrated Harry Potter?) And stay tuned for the date and time of our next episode, airing sometime mid-January! 

The Sounds of the Season (and How I Found Out the Truth About Santa)

It happens every December. I hear the opening notes of "The Christmas Waltz," sung by Karen Carpenter, and time suddenly rushes in reverse. I am five years old again, standing in the wood-paneled living room of my parents' first home. I have a sturdy, homemade ornament in one hand and am reaching for another while my mom tells me "don't grab" and "be patient." Out of the hundreds and thousands of Christmas songs, this is the one, more than any of the others, that says to me, "The Christmas season has officially begun." That song has been a part of every Christmas that I can remember. My mom has always loved the Carpenters, and it seems like theirs was always the first Christmas album we listened to (and I think "The Christmas Waltz" must have been the first song on the album). I love this song because it not only links me to my own past but to my mom's as well, who was listening to the Carpenters long before I was born.

This is not the only song that takes me back to my childhood. This month I've been thinking about the other sounds that tug me back to the past and that make this time of year so nostalgic and sweet.

*****

My family loves traditions and holds to them quite unwaveringly. One of those was an annual reading of The Forgotten Carols by Michael McLean. My dad usually read it over the course of several Sunday drives to church (forty-five minutes one way). The story is about a seemingly senile old man, Uncle John, whom Constance, a nurse, has been asked to help care for over the holidays. My dad used a very clipped, no-nonsense voice for Constance because that's the type of person she was until Uncle John softened her heart through the stories and songs of his past. The book has an accompanying music album that features all of the "forgotten carols" from Uncle John's reminiscences. As each song came up in the story, my dad stopped reading and we listened to it. It was always our rule that we couldn't listen to the album in its entirety until we finished the book. My favorite song was, "The Shepherd," which I even wrote an essay on for a school assignment one time. To this day, those songs make me think of starry nights in a softly thrumming car. (Sadly, after I married Mike, we decided to go see the theater production of The Forgotten Carols, and it kind of ruined the story for me.)

*****

Not music, but the sound of the heater coming on will always take me back to my childhood. In December, we had to rearrange the furniture to accommodate the Christmas tree. We swung one of the couches over so that the corners of the two couches touched and created a little square of space the perfect size for a little girl. There happened to be a heater vent in that little hideout, and I loved to grab a blanket and a book and park myself right on top of it, letting the warm air fill out my blanket and create a pleasantly warm little bubble. Just hearing the sound of the warm air rushing through the vent made me feel warmer even if I couldn't take immediate advantage of it. When my parents moved to a new home when I was fifteen, it had a more "efficient" furnace, which meant that the air that came out of the heater vents was room temperature (i.e., cold) instead of toasty warm. Giving up my beloved heater vents was one of the great losses of my childhood. Luckily, I now live in an old house with an inefficient furnace that regularly spews out warm air throughout the day. (And last week, when our furnace broke, I can't even tell you how much I missed that comforting sound. The house felt stark and bare without it.)

*****

If "The Christmas Waltz" signifies the beginning of the holiday season for me, then Leroy Anderson's "Sleigh Ride" does the same thing for the beginning of winter. Whenever the first snow came (whether it was in September or December), we put on "Sleigh Ride" and ran around the living room in a gloriously carefree dance. The snow drifted down outside (or, more likely, since it was northeastern Colorado, blew sideways) and inside we were warm and happy with hopes of it never stopping and being snowed in for a good week at least. Later in my childhood, the song took on another memory. When my little sister was about two years old, we had a toy horse (the kind that bounces up and down on springs) that resided in our dining room. It looked out the back doors onto the field behind our house, and my sister loved to have my mom put on "Sleigh Ride" while she mounted her beloved horse and took off. Seriously, it's a wonder the springs didn't snap the way she could bounce and make that horse go.

*****

Every year, my family and I bundled up and went caroling to the neighbors. It was something of an ordeal because we took more than our voices along. Instead, we were a caroling family band and went with trumpet, trombone, baritone, French horn, and bells. (I played the trombone and kept the mouthpiece tucked into my hand between stops so that it would stay warm enough to produce some sound.) But it's the bells, the wrist-shaking variety, that mean the most to me in my memories. Maybe it's because I no longer play the trombone, but we do have an identical set of bells that my kids like to shake. Every time I hear them, I remember those caroling trips, but also something else . . .

*****

When I was eight years old, I began to wonder if Santa was real. I don't remember what planted the idea in my head (maybe just growing up), but I determined to find out. Every Christmas Eve, after we acted out the nativity and set out a plate of cookies, my siblings and I put on boots and coats and went out into the frosty night to see if we could see Rudolph's nose or hear Santa's sleigh bells. Miraculously, we usually could see a little red light in the distant sky and hear the faint sound of bells floating by on the wind. Giddy with delight, we'd rush back into the house and jump into bed, confident that Santa was very close to landing on our roof. But that Christmas when I was eight, I wasn't caught up in the magic so much as I was discovering the truth. While my siblings were outside jumping up and and down and pointing wildly, I was back in the house, noiselessly crossing the kitchen floor and creeping down the stairs. As I peeked around the corner, I saw my dad sitting below an outside vent and shaking those infamous bells. Our eyes locked, and the bells abruptly stopped while I sputtered out an accusation. My dad quickly hushed me and took me into a room where we had a quiet heart to heart. I think I was disappointed, even if not surprised (I maybe even shed a few tears in my bed later that night). However, that disappointment melted away once I realized that it's even more fun playing Santa Claus than waiting for him.

I'd love to hear about those sounds that are inextricably linked to YOUR past. Please share your memories in the comments!

P.S. This Wednesday, Suzanne and I will be hosting our second blab. Come join us on December 16th at 7:00 pm MST. You can go directly to the blab website, or watch from either of our sites. Additionally, we'll put up the recorded video with show notes on Thursday or Friday.

The Sound of Paper: Starting From Scratch by Julia Cameron

When I made my goal at the beginning of the year to "read a book on writing," it was with the hope that I would actually improve my own writing in the process. I was looking for a book that would give little prompts and assignments and that would encourage me to think outside the box and stretch my writing muscles.

I thought I'd found that in The Sound of Paper. The book consists of short, essay-type chapters, and each one ends with a "Try This" exercise. I enjoyed the first fifty or so pages and completed many of the prompts (my favorite was the task to describe myself as I "would a literary character, in the third person").

But then the essays began to feel very repetitive and had almost nothing to do with improving writing. Every essay seemed to be about the drought in Taos, New Mexico (where the author was living at the time), which turned into a metaphor for the droughts that all artists face at one time or another in their careers. I began to see that this was not so much a book about writing as it was a book of encouragement.

By this time, I was about one hundred and fifty pages in. I considered abandoning it, but I had already invested so much time in it, and I didn't really have the heart to pick out something else at this late date in the year. So I muscled my way through the second half. And that is literally what it felt like. I would pick it up, grit my teeth, dive in, and read as much as I could before I couldn't take it anymore.

Luckily, there were a few gems, which rewarded my efforts:

• This advice, from a friend of hers: "I write a draft, then I let it breathe for a while, and when I come back to it, I have a new perspective." (This sums up my own writing process perfectly.)
• "Unlimited time became the luxury I yearned for, but because I didn't have it, time became what I learned to use. A minute here and a minute there, and there was, surprisingly, 'enough' of it." (Sound advice for me in the stage of motherhood I'm in right now--I can't sit around and wait for the perfect stretch of time. I have to use what I can get.)
• "Doesn't the inner perfectionist always hook you in the ego? 'You're not going to be any good,' the inner perfectionist spits out. When we respond, 'That's okay. I think I will try it anyhow,' the inner perfectionist comes up fresh out of stratagems. There's no fighting humility." (Some of my best writing has happened when I take all the pressure off myself.)
• "A piece of art needs a recipient. Otherwise we are pitching pennies down a well with no bottom. There is no tiny splash or 'plunk' of connection, and so we feel lost, crazy, shallow, immature." (This is why, even when I tell myself I'm just writing this blog for myself, I still look forward to the comments from you, my dear blog readers.)

 I agreed with her thoughts on daily writing through Morning Pages. I appreciated her recognition of divine help. I thought her own writing was beautifully descriptive. But in the end, it was just too repetitive and not exactly the kind of help I was looking for, so it turned into something tedious instead of something enjoyable.

Review x 2: Dominic and Sideways Stories From Wayside School

I'm combining reviews today. One is for the book, Dominic by William Steig, which I read aloud to my kids. The other is for the book Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar, which I read along with Aaron.

Dominic by William Steig

Dominic went on my library list immediately after I read Erica's post about fall family read-alouds (an all-around excellent list if you're looking for some ideas). I could tell just from her brief synopsis that it would be a story my kids would love. And I was right.

Dominic is a dog in search of adventure. One day he decides that there isn't "enough going on in his own neighborhood," and so he sets off in search of something exciting. It doesn't take him long to find it. On the second day, he falls into a deep hole dug by the nefarious Doomsday Gang. They have big plans for their prisoner, but Dominic isn't one to sit around and bemoan his fate. While the gang is sleeping, he digs his way out and takes the road of adventure once again. Along the way, he meets new friends, sees new sights, and, yes, continues to get the upper hand on the Doomsday Gang.

My kids were sold on the book as soon as they met the Doomsday Gang. If there's anything they like more than an honorable and brave hero (which Dominic is), it's a motley group of villains for him to defeat.

For my part, I fell in love with this book because of Dominic's contagious optimism towards the unpredictability of life. For example, when he's trapped in the hole, "which was now getting a bit stuffy, what with the logs covering it, Dominic wasn't a bit worried. Challenges were his delight. Whatever life offered was, this way or that, a test of one's skills, one's faculties; and he enjoyed proving equal to these tests." I could use a good healthy dose of that.

The very first individual Dominic meets on his journey (even before his run-in with the Doomsday Gang) is a witch-alligator who offers to give him a glimpse of his future: "For twenty-five cents I'll reveal your immediate prospects . . . For half a dollar I'll describe the next full year of your life. For a dollar you can have your complete history, unexpurgated, from now to the finish." As someone who likes to plan for the future, I would certainly be tempted to plunk down my dollar and get my life's summary, but Dominic says, "I'm certainly interested in my fortune. Yet I think it would be much more fun to find out what happens when it happens."

In addition to all of this, Dominic is kind and thoughtful and willing to go out of his way to help other people.  At one point, Dominic comes upon a small cottage in the forest. In it, he finds Bartholomew Badger, an old sick pig who is all alone in the world. Dominic's sensitive nose is assaulted as soon as he entered the house: "The room smelled like a sickroom. The air was stale. And the pig smelled like a sick pig." That description is enough to make anyone turn and run. But not Dominic. He saw someone in need, and he did what he could.

This attitude (challenges are a delight + the future is exciting + it's worth the trouble to help other people) could go a long way in making this world a better place. This book brought these things into clearer focus for me and hopefully for my kids too. But whether or not they picked up on those subtle messages, the story is one grand adventure after another, and it's fun to go along for the ride.

Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar

I never read any of the Wayside School books when I was a kid, and now, as an adult, I feel like I missed out just a little bit. I don't really consider them children's classics, but raise your hand if you read them when you were eight years old. That's what I thought. So although maybe not a classic, they do seem to be something of a rite of passage.

As I mentioned last week, one of the things I decided to do to be more involved with what Aaron was reading was to read some of the same books he was reading at the same time he was reading them. It was not by accident that this happened to be the first book we read together. I knew if we started out with something heavy and dense, he would forevermore be wary when I said that I was going to read a book with him. I wanted this to be fun--an experience that he would enjoy now and look forward to again in the future. So I picked a book that was wacky and silly but still had a certain reputation that comes from having been read by millions of children.

We both enjoyed it immensely.

When Wayside School was built, it was accidentally built vertically instead of horizontally. That means that instead of thirty classrooms all on one level, it has thirty classrooms stacked one on top of the other. This book is about the students on the thirtieth floor. There are thirty chapters in the book--one for each student (except in the case of the three Erics) with a few teachers thrown in.

This book made me laugh. There was Joe, the student who couldn't count but always ended up with the right answer. The dialogue was so funny, I had to read it aloud to Mike (who did read Sideways Stories as a kid): "[Mrs. Jewls] put five pencils on the desk. 'How many pencils do we have here, Joe?' Joe counted the pencils. 'Four, six, one, nine, five. There are five pencils, Mrs. Jewls.' 'That's wrong,' said Mrs. Jewls. 'How many pencils are there?' Joe asked. 'Five,' said Mrs. Jewls. 'That's what I said,' said Joe. 'Can I go to recess now?' 'No,' said Mrs. Jewls. 'You got the right answer, but you counted the wrong way. You were just lucky.'"

There were the three Erics: Eric Bacon (who is the skinniest kid in the class, but everyone assumes that all the Erics are fat so they call him "Fatso), Eric Fry (who is the best athlete in the class, but everyone assumes that all the Erics are clumsy so they call him "Butterfingers"), and Eric Ovens (who is the nicest kid in the class, but everyone assumes that all the Erics are mean so they call him "Crabapple").

And there was Calvin, who was given the impossible task to take a note to Miss Zarves on the nineteenth floor. When Wayside School was built, the nineteenth floor was accidentally not included (the builder said he was very sorry). Calvin's task is impossible, but Mrs. Jewls won't listen to reason. Calvin thinks: "Boy, this is just great. Just great! I'm supposed to take a note that I don't have to a teacher who doesn't exist, and who teaches on a story that was never built."

Seriously, I feel like I could just sit here and quote the whole book to you. And that's basically what Aaron and I did. Every night, one of us would ask, "Where are you in the book?" Then we would read snippets of our favorite parts, laugh at our favorite characters, and give little teasers for what was coming up. (Aaron, with a twinkle in his eye: "Have you got to the nineteenth chapter yet?" (There isn't a nineteenth chapter because, as already mentioned, there isn't a nineteenth floor.))

This is a book that was made ten times better because it was shared with someone else. I'm already planning out the next book Aaron and I can read together. In the meantime, he has a couple more Wayside School books he can't wait to check out from the library.

Raising Readers: Discovering Kids' Books on Audio (Guest Post)

In my Raising Readers post last month, I opened up the series to you, my readers, and asked for your unique perspectives and insights. I received emails from many of you who were interested in sharing your experiences through a guest post. Thank you so much (and if you'd still like to participate, please contact me: sunlitpages [at] gmail [dot] com).

It is with great pleasure that I introduce Linnae Harper, the very first Raising Readers guest. Linnae and I met through this blog (she has been a loyal commenter for many months). We connected over our shared loved of children's literature and discovered that we have similar tastes. Today she'll be sharing some of her tips and tricks for listening to audio books with kids (a subject near and dear to my heart, as you might remember that my own Maxwell is an avid fan of audio books). Please join me in welcoming Linnae to the blog!

Hello, blog friends! I’m happy to be here on Sunlit Pages sharing my love of books. Before I had kids, I was a children’s librarian for 3 years, which was a dream job for me.  I am now happy to be a full-time mom of three, 2 boys with a girl in the middle, ages 7 ½, 6, and 3. I haven’t made the leap to a book blog (yet!) but you can find my book reviews on Goodreads.

So let’s get started! I love reading to my kids! Over the past few years, our reading time together has really blossomed into something wonderful, that we all look forward to.  That being said, discovering kids’ books on CD changed our world for the better. (We have not made the jump to other listening media yet. Perhaps just a matter of time?)

It all started with a Christmas present: a $30 boombox/cd-player.  It was simple enough for the kids to use all by themselves. At first, it was mostly for music. Then we checked out some picture books with narrated CD’s from our library. Then we made the leap to chapter books on CD. Before we knew it, we were having marathon story listening sessions!

It’s like having an on-call grandparent, ready and eager to read whenever they want it! While I would never use it to replace my reading time with them, there are some things I really like about it.

For instance:

1. This one is obvious, but it’s been huge: I don’t have to be there for it to happen! If they want a story, but I’m making dinner or helping someone else, they can take care of that all by themselves! It’s tremendously empowering, particularly for my younger children who can’t read on their own yet. 
2. They get to hear someone else’s pronunciations, inflections, accents, and overall take of the story. I think it’s good for them to realize (consciously or not) that there’s more than one way to interpret a story. (Also, I learned I was mispronouncing “porcine” from the Mercy Watson books. Oops!)
3. Often the CD’s include music or other sound effects which adds to the fun.
4. I don’t have to read the same story a thousand times in a row! Let’s just be honest—there are some books where I mentally zone out on page one and my mouth just knows what to do until the end. We’ve read them THAT MANY TIMES. Listening to it again and again can also become annoying, but at least I can be actively doing something else, while my child revels in the familiar story. I call that a win!
5. Car trips, particularly those with long twisty roads where I am too carsick to read. Simply pop in the CD and stare at those little yellow lines on the road. Done.

So if you are new to audio books for kids, my biggest tip for delving in may seem counter intuitive at first: start with books you have already read to them. Repetition is comforting to kids, not boring!  Already knowing the plot seems to make my kids more eager to listen to the story, not less. They’re snuggling down with a familiar friend, rather than getting a surprise. Believe me, once you find a few they like, they’ll be listening to them over and over anyway! (see #4, above).  There are several of our books on CD (Magic Tree House, I’m looking at you!) that I could probably quote word for word. Not kidding.

Once you find something you like, branch out with other books in the series, or by the same author. Often the reader will stay the same over a series, which will give that instant feeling of familiarity.  When you decide to try something new, don’t be afraid to stop and try something else if you or they don’t like the narrator. No harm done, and probably better to not ruin a good story!

As far as recommendations, the Magic Tree House books, read by Mary Pope Osborne herself, are excellent, and would be a great place to start. You can readily tell when it’s Jack or Annie speaking, and she has great accents for the villians and other minor characters. They’re almost all in the 30-45 minute range for the entire story, which is just right for a transition activity, or a slightly longer car ride. Also, there are so many of them! If you get hooked like we did, you’ll have days of listening pleasure ahead of you (probably weeks, really, by the time your kids listen to each one on repeat.) 

Some other audio book series to try:

• Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle / Betty MacDonald 
• Geronimo Stilton / Geronimo Stilton: My 7-year-old can’t get enough of these! 
• Ramona the Pest / Beverly Cleary 
• Henry Huggins / Beverly Cleary 
• Mercy Watson / Kate DiCamillo : My kids still quote this one sometimes, especially the policeman 
• Harry Potter / J.K Rowling, read by Jim Dale : If you’ve already introduced your kiddos to Harry Potter, these are excellent!

Great Stand-Alone Titles: 

• The Collected Stories of Winnie the Pooh / A. A. Milne: this one is a full-cast dramatization. We loved it! 
• Love, Ruby Lavender / Deborah Wiles 
• The Secret Garden / Frances Hodgson Burnett 
• The Little Princess / Frances Hodgson Burnett 
• Peter Rabbit and other stories / Beatrix Potter, read by Jim Weiss 
• Three Tales of My Father’s Dragon / Ruth Stiles Gannett

This just in! Okay, I just found out about Focus on the Families’ Radio Theater productions. I am so excited I can hardly stand it! They have full cast productions of many classics, musical score and sound effects included. I already ordered The Secret Garden for my daughter for Christmas. (You can find them on Amazon.) Just browsing their selection, they have the entire Chronicles of Narnia, Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, Oliver Twist, Les Miserables, Ben-Hur, The Screwtape Letters, A Christmas Carol, The Legend of Squanto, and more. Have I mentioned how excited I am?  Obviously, not all of these are children’s books. I want some in my stocking!  (Maybe I can give old Santa a nudge!)

Do your kids listen to audio books? What are some of your family’s favorites? We’re always on the lookout for more!

Linnae grew up in Alaska, as the only girl in a family of 10 boys. Her vote always counted extra! A former children's librarian, she is now a full-time mom. She has found that many of the same skills apply. Her book reviews can be found on Goodreads under the user name Linnae Harper.

Choosing Books With Intention (and Why I Changed the Way I Was Doing It)

My oldest son, Aaron, is in second grade this year. We made it through the easy reader phase. Then the early chapter book phase. And during the last year or so, we've been settling into the chapter book (or middle grade or children's novel or whatever you want to call it) phase.

It's been a challenge.

I'm kind of surprised to hear myself admitting this, but it's true. Usually I love the book selection process, but it has not been easy with Aaron.

For one thing, he is totally impassive when it comes to books. Whatever I put into his hands, he will read. That should make it so easy, right? I could literally indoctrinate this kid with whatever I wanted, and he would just shrug his shoulders and go with it.

But it's not easy at all. I have nothing to gauge books off of. The only author he has ever admitted to liking without any prompting from me was Roald Dahl, and we all know Roald Dahl is in a class pretty much by himself.

I have never seen Aaron get so caught up in a book that he stays up late into the night because he can't wait to see what happens next. He never stops mid-chapter and says, "Mom, you have got to read this book!" He never tells me to get more of the books in a series or, alternatively, not to bring anymore of them home. If he comes to the library with me, he spends the entire time in the craft book section and just expects me to pick up something good for him.

For a long time, I selected his next book from book lists I felt I could trust. There are worse ways to pick a book for sure, but my method had one little flaw: I was trying to find books I had no interest in reading.

As you know, I read aloud to my kids a lot, and we've enjoyed dozens of excellent children's novels together (many of which Aaron has later reread). We've read the first books in many series (Paddington, Poppy, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Wizard of Oz, etc.). These should be excellent jumping-off points for Aaron, but I have hoarded them rather selfishly. What if I want to make the next book in the series our next readaloud and he's already read it?

So instead I gave him Origami Yoda and Captain Awesome and The Clubhouse Mysteries--not necessarily bad books but definitely books that I knew I'd never have the desire to read aloud, so they were safe.

The problem was, I actually had no idea what was in those books, and Aaron is not the type that will give a complete plot summary just by asking, "So, what was the book about?" The more he read, the more disconnected I felt . . . even though I was the one choosing the books!

But then, several weeks ago, I was reading Honey For a Child's Heart, and it was like a switch was flipped, and I could finally see quite clearly the holes in my reasoning and the problems with my book selection process. What was I doing?! Something had to change, and fast.

Let me insert one thing before I go any further: like I said before, I really didn't have a problem with the books I mentioned above. If Aaron had shown even a spark of interest in reading on in any of those series, I know I would have encouraged it. However, the problem for me was that since I had no interest in those books, I couldn't really engage in any sort of discussion with Aaron about them. Something was missing. Reading had become a chore for him (and for me).

I made some immediate changes, which included: using the Honey For a Child's Heart book lists, choosing a book to read along with Aaron, printing off Sarah Mackenzie's quick start guide with discussion questions, and letting Aaron continue on with series we'd already started.

Let me talk about each of these in a little more detail:

Use the Honey for a Child's Heart book lists

I already talked about this a little bit when I reviewed Honey For a Child's Heart: Gladys Hunt's book lists focus on classic books that teach good morals and values. She doesn't really include any trendy (or, as some like to label them, "twaddley") books on her lists, which I appreciate since those are fairly easy to find on my own. Her lists are good just for simply reminding me of good books I've read that I could pass along to Aaron. However, I am a little wary of handing him books from the list I haven't read yet simply because I didn't always agree with her age recommendations for books I did know and also, I don't think she really has a problem with recommending boring books (not that such a thing would necessarily be a problem since, like I said before, Aaron will read pretty much anything I give him). However, what I'm really excited about with these book lists is how they will help me with the next change I'm making.

Read a book with Aaron

I'm not talking about reading aloud to Aaron (that's something we're already doing a lot of and will continue to do). Rather, I want to choose a book that we can both read separately but simultaneously.  (This would never have worked with my previous method because I don't think I could have gagged down Origami Yoda, but now that I've opened up our options, there are literally hundreds of great books I've been dying to read that he would probably enjoy too.) This is where Gladys Hunt's book lists will come in handy because we'll have more ideas than we could ever possibly get through. Also, since I'll be reading it along with him, if I run into one of the problems I mentioned in the section above (i.e., boring or too advanced), I won't make him suffer through it. (In the last couple of weeks, we actually already read one together (Sideways Stories From Wayside School), and I'll be talking more about that experience when I review it.) Mike has also agreed to read a book here and there along with Aaron. Right now, they're both reading, The Wright Brothers: How They Invented the Airplane by Russell Freedman.

Use Sarah Mackenzie's quick start guide

Part of what was missing with Aaron was just any type of meaningful discussion after reading a book. I usually just asked him, "Did you like it?" and he responded with, "Sure," and that was the end of it. (Ironically, this question works like a charm with Maxwell. That kid needs almost no encouragement when it comes to chatting with me about things.) Sarah Mackenzie's guide is thoughtful, and she gives five questions that are easily adapted to practically any book. (However, I've discovered the first three questions don't work very well if I don't have any knowledge of the plot, which is one more reason for me to do some reading along with Aaron.) My plan is to use these questions both with the books Aaron is reading solo and with the books we are reading aloud as a family. They can be used either while we're still in the middle of the story or after we're entirely finished. Right now, it feels a little scripted, but I think the more we engage in meaningful discussions, the more natural it will become.

Let Aaron continue on with a series we have already started

Guess what? There are a lot of great books in this world. So many, in fact, that I am not going to have the time to read all of them out loud. That is the sad truth I have come to accept over the last few weeks. So even though I'd like to read all of the books in the Tales of Dimwood Forest or The Chronicles of Narnia, it might not be logistically possible. But just because I can't finish them all with my kids doesn't mean Aaron shouldn't have the chance to find out what happens. Now that I've loosened up my hold, we have so many more options, and I can keep him well supplied in books I already know I approve of (and having a discussion is much easier because I'm already familiar with the characters). And if I decide I really want to read a book aloud that he's already read, I know he's not going to mind listening to it again.

I'm curious: How do you choose books for your kids to read on their own? Or are they opinionated enough that you don't get much of a choice? Where do you go to find good books?

Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande

When I was growing up, we had a family friend who lived in a nursing home. On at least one Sunday every month, we would drive an hour to go visit him.

I dreaded these visits.

The rooms at the nursing home were small to begin with but felt even more crowded once my large family squeezed inside. We often had to arrange ourselves around a large contraption that was used to lift our friend from his bed to his wheel chair. A curtain divided the room in two, and our presence sometimes annoyed the resident "next door." The only personal thing I can remember about the room was a bulletin board where our friend could thumb tack up birthday cards or newspaper articles.

Walking through the halls, past the other residents, made me so uncomfortable. They looked bored and lonely and often unkempt. The smell that assailed my nose every time I walked through the glass sliding doors made me want to turn and run.

In retrospect, I can see how desperate our friend was for a little company. For his sake, I'm so grateful my parents insisted that we make those visits a priority, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the thought of entering that building still makes me shudder.

And after reading this book, I feel like my revulsion was totally understandable and justified. There aren't many worse places in the United States than a traditional nursing home.

Being Mortal is about the way we view life and death. It is about recognizing and accepting when the end has come and living out our life to the fullest in the meantime. This is one of the most fascinating books I've read all year and one that I haven't been able to stop talking about (and chances are, if you know me in real life, I've already subjected you to a synopsis).

Atul Gawande has been a surgeon for over fifteen years. This book was prompted in part because the more surgeries he performed, the more he realized that these operations often sacrificed quality of life in exchange for (possibly) more time, and that trade off didn't sit well with him. Doctors were avoiding the very types of discussions their patients needed most. In this modern age, science has come so far that doctors can keep people alive for a very long time, but it's not always the best solution. Death is a natural process, and Atul Gawande believes that as we become more comfortable with acknowledging and discussing it, we can live out our days more fully and conscientiously fill them with things that bring us joy.

The first section of the book focuses on the elderly--an ever-growing percentage of our population. The average human being can now expect to live to nearly 80 years old. That's incredible. But this ability to live longer is not necessarily because we've slowed down the aging process (we really haven't) but reflects the choice we now have to keep patching ourselves up with medication and surgery. This is good. But at what point are those extra years more of a burden to yourself and your family? What sacrifices are worth it in order to gain a few extra months?

Atul Gawande is in no way suggesting that once you're sick of life, you speed up the process of dying. What he's saying is, parents and children need to have very frank discussions about how they want to live out their final years. I can't think of a single person who would choose to spend their last days in a nursing home where they sit around in a wheelchair all day watching TV or playing bingo and don't get to decide anything about the food they eat or the schedule they keep or the medication they take.

Of course, it's much more complicated than I'm making it out to be (the mental health and financial security of the individual being two of the biggest factors), but I was just so riveted by the options and heartbroken about our friend who didn't get much of a say at the end. In their prime, those who are now elderly contributed so much to the world, and I wince to think of what many of them are reduced to at the end and the lack of respect that is shown to them. (As a side note, it was also depressing to hear that even those doctors who would like to specialize in geriatrics aren't because, even though that is one of the fastest growing populations in the world, that is exactly where the funding is being cut from.)

The second half of the book focused on individuals who are dying, not necessarily from old age, but from accident or disease. As you might expect, this was the harder of the two sections to listen to. Many of the stories that were shared involved people who were still in their prime with a family or a career or dreams that they were still very much involved in.

One of the stories impacted me especially because of the similarities it shared with my sister-in-law, Alisa, who passed away earlier this year from melanoma. The woman in the story was in her 30's and pregnant with her first child when doctors discovered lung cancer. The cancer was much faster-growing and aggressive than Alisa's was originally. This woman ended up getting less than a year whereas Alisa was able to fight for eight years. But when the end finally came for both of them, their stories were strikingly similar because of one word: hope.

These two women were willing to do anything (and I really do mean anything) for a few extra months or weeks or even days. When your life is being mercilessly ripped away from you too soon, even the smallest increment of time is precious. Alisa was in constant search of a cure, and every time she tried something new, she hoped it would be the magic she needed.

In the book, Atul Gawande tells about another patient who was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

"The news was devastating. But then he began looking at the graphs of the patients' survival curves. Gould was a naturalist and more inclined to notice the variation around the curve's middle point than the middle point itself. What the naturalist saw was remarkable variation. The patients were not clustered around the median survival but instead fanned out in both directions. Moreover, the curve was skewed to the right with a long tail, however slender, of patients who lived many years longer than the eight month median. This is where he found solace. He could imagine himself surviving far out along that long tail."

It was that same long tail that tantalized Alisa. There's no way to know where you're going to fall on that curve. Doctors can't make that prediction and neither can their patients. In fact, one of the things I found so fascinating about this book was our inability to define what dying is. When confronted with the question, "Am I dying?," doctors are unable to answer it. They realize that technically they could keep people "alive" for a very long time, whether they're actually doing much living or not.

I saw Alisa struggle with this question herself. Even when her condition took a serious downhill turn a few months before her death, no one realized (and/or accepted) that it was the end. She had bounced back so many times before. Surely it could happen again. But in March, she wrote, "Hospice was whispered around the room yesterday. The word is a whisper." That description has stayed with me ever since because it's so true. I think we all have a certain fear of hospice because we see it as a resignation to fate. There's a certain finality in that word. It sort of feels like giving up or giving in.

But I can honestly say that this book completely changed my opinion of hospice (and actually, it was already in the process of being changed when I saw glimpses of it during the final few days of Alisa's life). It is so much more than just helping patients not feel any pain. It's doing what many doctors are afraid to do: holding frank, honest discussions about goals and priorities so that patients can do the things that are most important to them for as long as possible. Atul Gawande said that there are so many positive results that come from these discussions that "if end-of-life discussions were an experimental drug, the FDA would approve it."

In the book, Atul Gawande tells a really interesting story about a patient of his that he was operating on. I can't remember all the details (and I no longer have the book from the library), but I know that she had a type of cancer that was metastasizing rapidly. He had basically two options: a less invasive procedure that would bring her immediate relief or a much more dangerous surgery that could potentially do a lot of damage with the slight chance that she would see some longer-lasting results. She opted for the less invasive procedure because by that point, it was more important to her to be able to actually do some of the things she wanted to with her family rather than just have more time.

Going back to the story I mentioned above about the man who hoped that he would be among those that would beat the odds and live longer than eight months, he got his wish. And because there are stories like his (and frankly, like Alisa's as well, who lived for three more years after they discovered twenty-five tumors in her brain), it makes hope a thing to hold onto for as long as possible.

The thing that I found interesting about these end-of-life discussions, however, is that you don't wait until you know you're at the end before having them. You have them early on, while you're still relatively healthy. You talk to your doctor about your priorities. One of the patients Atul Gawande mentioned said that as long as he could watch football and eat, life would be worth living. These priorities would, of course, be different for every patient. But I think having such a discussion makes it easier for doctors to help guide their patients towards the best course of treatment because they know what things are not worth giving up in exchange for a few more months.

This review has gone on far too long, but, if anything, let the length be a witness to how much I loved this book. Atul Gawande is an excellent writer, and the subject matter is of course deeply personal to each of us because of the unavoidability of death. One of the stories in the book is about Gawande's own father, and I think this made the book even more meaningful because he wasn't just speaking as a doctor but also as a son. It will definitely be one of the books that will stay with me the most from my reading this year. Highly recommend.