Today a dear friend gave me the following advice:
1. Don't choose your wine based on the design on the label: there is seldom a correlation between good wine and good art.
2. Don't fall into the trap of believing you can find a good movie on Netflix by googling "best movies on Netflix." You will discover that you are Canadian, and that the Canadian version of Netflix doesn't feature any of these movies. You will go to "Mean Girls" because that's the recommendation. You will discover that you are no longer a teenager anymore, and feel a little let down by the adolescent humour.
3. Sometimes an antique store is really a front for hoarding. Beware ridiculously high prices: they don't really want to sell their goods.
4. If you own a thrift store, be sure to open said thrift store if two middle-aged women are peering through the window. You are bound to make a sale.
July 25, 2016
July 3, 2016
Ridiculously Cool Books for Kids
My daughters and I recently picked up a library book that dictates the 1,001 books that we must read before everyone in the household enters adulthood. My four-year-old was intrigued: she decided that we must read them all. Time is running out.
I agreed, of course. I love to-do lists, and we have many of the 1,001 lying around. Of course, the thought has crossed my mind about what might happen if we skipped one or two: would the girls miss out on some essential element of their humanity? Would they lack empathy? a grasp of history? an awareness of human suffering? Would their sense of humour fall a little flat in some future social gathering because they hadn't read It Came with the Couch? Would they grow up too cowardly to add Green Eggs and Ham to their palate?
Of course, as I perused the book, I noticed that some brilliant reads were missing. So were some of the essentials, such as Lois Lowry's The Giver. And I grew even more disillusioned when I picked up a recommended fictional account of a nuclear holocaust that ends with . . . well, pretty much everyone suffering in profound ways before dying, including the protagonist's eight-year-old brother. Given my older daughter's list of hypothetical tragedies (concerns such as, "What if we discover that vegetables cause cancer?"), I thought we might skip that one.
At any rate, I will start my own list, little gems that I think you should read regardless of whether you're old enough to vote:
1. "The Shrinking of Treehorn," by Florence Parry Heide (illustrated by Edward Gorey)
What can I say? This is a great book, kind of like a children's version of Kafka's novella The Metamorphosis. In fact, it brought up a healthy and open discussion of Kafka in our home (a talk that is never easy and makes some parents uncomfortable).
Young Treehorn is dismayed to discover that he is shrinking. Even more disconcerting is the fact that no adult in his life seems overly concerned: indeed, his mother is more concerned about the fact that the cake that isn't rising properly, while his teacher says, "Well, I'll let it go for today," provided the issue is dealt with by tomorrow, since "We don't shrink in this class." (Come to think of it, I don't think shrinking was permitted in my classes either, even in junior high.)
Central to the book is television--Treehorn has 156 favourite programs. During a commercial, he listens to his parents discuss his condition:
"He really is getting smaller," said Treehorn's mother. "What will we do? What will
people say?"
"Why, they'll say he's getting smaller," said Treehorn's father. He thought for a moment. "I
wonder if he's doing it on purpose. Just to be different."
"Why would he want to be different?" asked Treehorn's mother.
Then Treehorn starts listening to the commercial, wisely blocking out his parents' voices.
The first in a series of three Treehorn stories, the book is a fascinating portrayal of a child whose parents don't really see him, or hear him, or know him, much like our dear insect friend Gregor Samsa. Sadly, I meet a Treehorn here and there every once in a while. My daughter's kindergarten class had more than few of them.
2. "Mia's Thumb," by Ljuba Stille
When we discovered this book, we had to read it again. After closing it a second time, we started again from the beginning, and then read it again . . . and again . . . and again. And when Grandma dropped by a day later, we read it yet again. Both of my daughters laughed and laughed.
The story features Mia, an ardent thumb sucker whose concerned family members try everything they can to break the habit. My daughters' favourite moment is when Mia's father draws "a little king" on his daughter's thumb: surely a child wouldn't suck a royal personage out of existence. The little king ends up in Mia's mouth on a page that reads so dramatically (if you can do it just right). Even now the words "a little king" bring up a hearty chuckle in our household.
Mia's grandmother ends up seeing why the little girl's habit is so soothing and becomes addicted herself, causing Mia to be embarrassed. It's a brilliant ending. And although many of those who have rated the book are critical, I must ask, "Why not end it this way?" How many hours do we waste worrying about trivial problems that our children inevitably outgrow?
Anyway, isn't this book more edifying than Hoffman's "The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb," a boy whose thumbs are snipped off by a terrifying tailor?
(I'll confess I love "Struwwelpeter" too.)
3. "A Small Miracle," by Peter Collington
Oh wow. This wordless book captivated my children. First, they were expecting a tragedy and D. shouted, "I don't want to read this!" She couldn't believe that a little old woman could face such cruelty, with no human compassion in sight. Moments later, both girls were laughing in delight. Finally, they were very much moved.
But I don't want to ruin the surprise. Buy the book: you will not regret it. Then order his other books.
"Clever Cat" will teach you exactly why cats are the way they are, and why they shouldn't be any different.
And "Tooth Fairy" will force you to rethink your conceptions
of the tooth fairy. Is she there to serve you, or do you exist for
her benefit? Or is it a symbiotic economic relationship?
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
I agreed, of course. I love to-do lists, and we have many of the 1,001 lying around. Of course, the thought has crossed my mind about what might happen if we skipped one or two: would the girls miss out on some essential element of their humanity? Would they lack empathy? a grasp of history? an awareness of human suffering? Would their sense of humour fall a little flat in some future social gathering because they hadn't read It Came with the Couch? Would they grow up too cowardly to add Green Eggs and Ham to their palate?
Of course, as I perused the book, I noticed that some brilliant reads were missing. So were some of the essentials, such as Lois Lowry's The Giver. And I grew even more disillusioned when I picked up a recommended fictional account of a nuclear holocaust that ends with . . . well, pretty much everyone suffering in profound ways before dying, including the protagonist's eight-year-old brother. Given my older daughter's list of hypothetical tragedies (concerns such as, "What if we discover that vegetables cause cancer?"), I thought we might skip that one.
At any rate, I will start my own list, little gems that I think you should read regardless of whether you're old enough to vote:
1. "The Shrinking of Treehorn," by Florence Parry Heide (illustrated by Edward Gorey)
What can I say? This is a great book, kind of like a children's version of Kafka's novella The Metamorphosis. In fact, it brought up a healthy and open discussion of Kafka in our home (a talk that is never easy and makes some parents uncomfortable).
Central to the book is television--Treehorn has 156 favourite programs. During a commercial, he listens to his parents discuss his condition:
"He really is getting smaller," said Treehorn's mother. "What will we do? What will
people say?"
"Why, they'll say he's getting smaller," said Treehorn's father. He thought for a moment. "I
wonder if he's doing it on purpose. Just to be different."
"Why would he want to be different?" asked Treehorn's mother.
Then Treehorn starts listening to the commercial, wisely blocking out his parents' voices.
The first in a series of three Treehorn stories, the book is a fascinating portrayal of a child whose parents don't really see him, or hear him, or know him, much like our dear insect friend Gregor Samsa. Sadly, I meet a Treehorn here and there every once in a while. My daughter's kindergarten class had more than few of them.
2. "Mia's Thumb," by Ljuba Stille
When we discovered this book, we had to read it again. After closing it a second time, we started again from the beginning, and then read it again . . . and again . . . and again. And when Grandma dropped by a day later, we read it yet again. Both of my daughters laughed and laughed.
The story features Mia, an ardent thumb sucker whose concerned family members try everything they can to break the habit. My daughters' favourite moment is when Mia's father draws "a little king" on his daughter's thumb: surely a child wouldn't suck a royal personage out of existence. The little king ends up in Mia's mouth on a page that reads so dramatically (if you can do it just right). Even now the words "a little king" bring up a hearty chuckle in our household.
Mia's grandmother ends up seeing why the little girl's habit is so soothing and becomes addicted herself, causing Mia to be embarrassed. It's a brilliant ending. And although many of those who have rated the book are critical, I must ask, "Why not end it this way?" How many hours do we waste worrying about trivial problems that our children inevitably outgrow?
Anyway, isn't this book more edifying than Hoffman's "The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb," a boy whose thumbs are snipped off by a terrifying tailor?
3. "A Small Miracle," by Peter Collington
Oh wow. This wordless book captivated my children. First, they were expecting a tragedy and D. shouted, "I don't want to read this!" She couldn't believe that a little old woman could face such cruelty, with no human compassion in sight. Moments later, both girls were laughing in delight. Finally, they were very much moved.
But I don't want to ruin the surprise. Buy the book: you will not regret it. Then order his other books.
And "Tooth Fairy" will force you to rethink your conceptions
her benefit? Or is it a symbiotic economic relationship?
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)