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{constant reader’s reads: another parent trap}

Dear TBR:

I really dislike when I discover a traditionally published Big 5 middle grade book I’ve heard nothing about. Don’t get me wrong, a new book is always a joy, in a way – but in another way, it’s kind of disturbing. Brief research into the film director and novelist who combined to write this would suggest it should have had much more buzz, but the truth is that middle grade gets overcrowded and 2019, when this book was published was a very prolific year for buzzy middle grade publications. At any rate, it was nice to find a wholly new-to-me book that was both touching, funny, and was the reading comp I was looking for.

Bett is named after her maternal grandmother, Betty. Bett with two-t’s is… a firecracker like her namesake – out to grab the world and take it on. She swims, she camps, she surfs, she skis – she takes risks and seeks thrills and would live outside with animals if possible. She gets it from her father, who, after the death of his partner, Phillip, when Bett was just a baby, taught her that life is short, and to grab it with both hands. That’s why when Bett’s dad falls in love, he falls all the way in. The new beau has a daughter just like he does – same age and everything. So, why shouldn’t they be friends? Why shouldn’t they be sisters? Why shouldn’t their first introduction to each other be in the same cohort at summer camp? What could possibly go wrong?

Avery is circumspect, studious and smart – and very much an indoor cat like the father who raised her. Surrounded on all sides by her with adult support staff in the form of nannies and tutors, her father has tried to supply both father and mother, since Avery’s mother is a busy playwright she’s never even met – he’s made sure of that. Avery has asthma, rampant anxiety, especially about large bodies of water and dogs, insomnia, social insecurities galore, and a near-fascination with germs and hygiene. When she is contacted by a girl letting her know that her father is seeing someone, she is first dubious, then cautious – what if this girl is part of some elaborate financial scam!? – and then she’s a horrified that this wildly creative girl whose emails are rife with spelling errors – this is the girl that her father expects her to be best friends with? Nevertheless, she’s polite. Avery does her best to be polite, even when being joined at her favorite summer camp by a girl she definitely didn’t expect.

This book is both charming and hilarious, and the personalities of the girls shine through their letters and writing style – Bett making spelling errors and shrugging, Avery almost visibly wincing. Grandma Betty’s yearning for a life bigger than what she’s found as a retiree in Texas reads as legit, as do the unspoken ambitions and needs of the other adults in the book. Though those are solely shown rather than discussed, this is clearly a book about children and the ways in which their lives are intersected with an essentially controlled by their adults. Some of what’s here would not be obvious to a younger reader not as adept at reading between the lines, but it adds ballast to the girls’ personalities, as they know their adults and read them well, and try to explain them to each other. Romances – friendships – and relationships of all kinds wax and wane throughout the narrative, reflecting the natural ways people go in and out of each other’s lives.

There’s a lot to love about this novel, with its high concept yet heartfelt plot, though it does have its small criticisms. I did wish that Bett’s characterization wasn’t so much dialed to ‘does-what-she-wants sassy’ and leaving out the biracial part of her identity. While the Brazilian part of Bett’s family was her surrogate, her father is listed as African American, as is Grandma Betty. Bett mentions once that she’s alone as a girl of color at the chi-chi summer camp where the girls are sent… and that’s it. I can’t imagine her adults wouldn’t take some aspects of Black culture as a part of their lives together. The paperback cover shows her with a small cloud of curly hair, but though she’s on her own all summer, she never does her hair – it’s not mentioned as anything she has to take time and care with, though Avery mentions that it’s curly. It comes across as if Bett’s dad is a hunky, impulsive gay himbo who works in pool construction – blue collar work – and he’s taken up with a wealthy white architect, the type of person builders, Bett explains, usually fight with. It’s also notable how much the men cry, which veered closest to cliché than any other part of the book I read. The inevitable book-ending wedding aside, this is a love story on several levels – between consenting adults, of course, but also between two girls who choose friendship and its vicissitudes and themselves most of all over whatever their parents, teachers, camp staff, and other friends plan for them – which is a triumph of its own. Self-determination, self-awareness, and in the end, selflessness make all the difference. I’m glad I read this book.


Fresh onto the TBR:

  • To Ride a Rising Storm, Monoquill Blackgoose
  • Books & Bewitchment, Isla Jewell
  • The Merciful Crow, Margaret Evans

        

Until the next book, 📖

Still A Constant Reader

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crowded table

Imagine
holidays
by Hallmark –

color-drenched
celluloid.
Realism

is crowded:
just space for…
…everyone.

There’s a song by The Highwomen called “Crowded Table” that was on my mind this morning (we’re doing a double quartet choral version sometime later this Spring, and the chorus is an incredible earworm), and it seems appropriate, as yesterday the niecelet informed the family group text that in a couple of Sundays at brunch she’ll be introducing us all to Someone Important. My little sister is buying matching hoodies with her Someone Important (they are tooth-achingly sweet), and it really does seem like in the next year or so the family will grow by two. There’s already seventeen of us for dinner when we’re all there, so… time to actually buy extra seating instead of making do with the piano bench and various office chairs.

It’s so different from when I came home from college with Himself – they’re well into their thirties and not shaky twenty-year-olds cringing in advance of the inevitable judgment. They’re giving us a chance to be part of their lives, not hat-in-hand asking for… anything, really, but their due: being treated like grown women with their own business to mind.

Vive la différence. You go, girls.

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Five Stars

Rehearsals,
Auditions –
Life holds none.

Though *nightly
curtains rise
on “Sunset.”

Unrehearsed,
The light drains
brilliantly.

Driving home the other night, the hills looked like black paper cutouts. Spring sunsets stretch longer as the light seeps more slowly. I thought “this light deserves a poem,” and though colored pencils don’t really convey the shade of peach just above the hills, I’m loving the quick scribble format of three. Though speed is not the point, this was both faster and more fun.

And yes, I wrote “daily” and meant its opposite, but them’s the breaks when you’re lettering in indelible ink. 🙄

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morning calm

insistent,
raucous song,
repeating

while light slides
slow rainbows
down siding…

loud silence
morning brings
opposites.

Today seemed a good day to try again with the original prompts brought to me by Grant Snider’s POETRY COMICS prompts. As in his first example, I looked for a window to draw… Of course, because I’m difficult, my first window is the dining room’s glass door. (And nope, I couldn’t figure out how to draw the spherical prism hanging outside, either.)

I tried to let the poem come to me, rather than chase it or impose myself upon it, keeping in mind I also was trying to both be present and not succumb to the nagging feeling that I Ought To Be Doing Something more important than writing an imperfect poem. (Laundry. Dusting. Groceries. Novel word count…)

Sunday afternoon I watched a great little video on… practicing. We’re all acquainted with the idea, and we’re really good at telling children to do so, but it’s astonishing how bad we can be at just… consistently trying as adults. For myself, a few years ago I was so relieved to have a name and a diagnoses for my spatial perception (etc. etc.) issues. Whew, it’s a learning disability, I don’t have to try anymore! Which hasn’t made my desire to be able to stitch an even seam, visually judge distances, estimate distance and time, parallel park, use a sewing machine, draw straight lines or round circles, or to do All The Things that so many others do with such thoughtless ease. I’m having to try, armed with the knowledge that I will have specific kinds of failures – plus others I don’t even know to expect. Though this is daunting, if I merely accepted my brain’s limitations, I’d stay exactly where I am – wistful. And, eventually, resentful.

Thus this month I practice being better at being in the moment and letting poems come to me. I will dismiss my self-discipline and wordplay brain and just… sit. And color. It’s both entertaining and excruciating. Contradictory – the story of my life, and probably everyone’s.

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In Service of Shadows

Tenebrae:
ritual
requires

all candles
extinguished.
Acknowledge

in darkness
this planet,
this grieving.

I’m continually fascinated by how some people – communities or individuals – can make space for grief … and how some others relentless insistence on ‘this’ being some Part Of The Plan or Lesson. Sometimes awful things like pandemics, fascists, genocide, and war happen. Who wouldn’t weep? Who hasn’t?

(It also occurred to me after the drawing was done that it might have made more sense to draw the candle in grayscale, since tenebrae means shadows… but, oh well.)

Poetry Friday is hosted today at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme. Thanks, Matt!

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mandé

mandatum
“Commandment”
in Latin.

A brick word –
Unyielding.
Requiring

Adherence,
Demanding
Charity.

Not having been raised with liturgy, I am the girl who’s always wondering, “Wait, what’s this about?” Our ensemble was asked to sing for “Maundy” Thursday. Could say MUCH MORE on the history of the medieval/traditional connection between the day and charitable behavior, but… won’t.

I hadn’t envisioned using crayons for this project, but boy are they faster. Additionally, they (and just scribbling on any old piece of paper, including old planners) help me remember the imperfection I’m meant to embrace within this practice — quick art and poetry made of and in the moment. I literally am requiring myself to let go of the rules for just a tic, scribble and post, the end. Meanwhile, this article on how art makes people healthier gently nudges me to keep going.


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And So It Begins

Holidays –
Holy Week,
Passover

Colliding,
Colluding,
Combining…

Liturgy
Requires
Stamina.

I can already tell that the poetry and the panels will be a challenge. I’ll need to sketch much faster with far less detail! It’s hard to wean oneself away from perfection. Additionally, for a tricube, I really only needed three panels… I don’t know what I was thinking, except somewhere in my head all comics require four panels? Anyway – onward into the marathon week of rehearsals and services and why not pick up a daily poetry and drawing practice this week as well? It makes perfect sense!🙄

P.S. – I really do have a bizarre medieval animals calendar with a crowned cat on it. @medievalistmatt – an Instagram account run by a history professor at Ohio Dominican University – is responsible, as his hilarious account is the reason I have these silly calendars… as it appears that most of the monks clearly had never been outside, much less even seen a horse, and they drew worse than I do. Anyway, happy Wednesday, happy April – and remember, you are well-loved.

{poetry…comics…?! npm ’26}

NPM ’26 ♦ Sing On, O Mighty Pen

In 2007, my friend Sarah and I saw artist, author, puppet maker, and all-round personified avatar of art Yuyi Morales in San Francisco. (It was at Alma Flor Ada’s Reading the World conference, a single day event put on by the International & Multicultural Education Department of the University of San Francisco from about 1998 – 2009. It was life-changing, and I don’t say that lightly. That year we also heard from the glorious Ashley Bryan of blessed memory, and the incisive and intimidating Jane Yolen). During her talk, Artista Morales spoke about creation as an act of faith, and how her act takes belief in herself, persistence and determination. On a handout with some of her drawings, she shared her prayers to Señor Tlalocan, the Aztec god of rain, lightning, and fertility who “makes things sprout.” Her hope and determination that her creativity and her art would flourish have stuck with me, all these years later. And so I think of Sra. Yuyi today this month as I write my “O, mighty pen” project. Because, even if I feel like an imposter as a poet, my pen is mighty, and with it, my creativity has – and will – sprout.

Of course, I feel like even more of an imposter as an artist.

…and yet, I’m lifting my mighty colored pencils this month and taking on one more challenge. In 2023 as part of his classroom visits to schools, poet and illustrator Grant Snider put up a Substack called How To Make Poetry Comics. He reposted it last year, and I was intrigued. It is brilliant in its simplicity – and very direct about what poetry comics are, and are not to him. I’ve seen Grant Snider’s work and followed his Instagram for quite a while now, and I really like how he takes concepts and mulls them over in such a small space, so… thoughtfully and lyrically. Looking at his work, I’ve felt like four small squares – or three small panels – are surely not too much to fill, even for a person with a visual-spatial difficulty… right?

So, that’s this year’s project. Poetry + Art. Poetry Comics. Words and doodles.

Despite Grant Snider’s instructions, sometimes my art will be illustrating my poems instead of the other way around, but other times, I’m going to try and let the form direct the focus. To begin with, I’ll take it easy on myself, and just share a few of the tricube and haiku poems that strike me during the incredibly busy (!!!!) Easter weekend ahead, but later I’ll make sure and use all of his prompts – Four Senses, Here & Now, Horizontal/Diagonal/Vertical Movement, Zooming In/Zooming Out, Poem + Comic, Haiku – and then as I get braver, I’ll see where my pens and pencils take me from there…

O, Mighty Pen, don’t fail me now.


As always Jama-j has the full National Poetry Month in Kidlit rounded up here.