Author's Blog

Set a reading goal

Bookstores reward children for reading a certain amount of books over the summer by granting them a free book after completing a certain number of books. In grade school, children are required a certain number of hours of reading (outside of their required schoolwork). I am not aware of a general reward for average adults for reading a certain number of books or by reading a certain number of hours a day. I am aware of book club rewards and those for purchasing a certain number of books but not anything for reading them. (If you know of anything, please share it in a comment here.)

Stephen King is a self-described slow reader but manages to get in something like 60-80 books a year (maybe it's more). I was amazed - there are only 52 weeks in a year! I consider myself a pretty good reader - I can read a book a day when I have time and am pulled in by the story. And of course, his full-time job is as a writer and mine is not. However, I can't imagine reading one book a week, despite having done so in the past. I don't have the desire to read all the time - I sometimes want to watch mind numbing television or spend a whole day with a good friend being merry. And I do have a day job that does not allow me to read - the work gets in the way.

I expect to easily read over 12 books in a year simply because I am in a book club where we select a new book each month and I usually read an additional one when that book doesn't appeal to me. So I've set a goal for myself to read 25 books in 2010. That's one book more than I expect will fall into my average reading lifestyle and will ensure that I read at least one book in addition to the required book club reading.

If you divide the books evenly across months, that's two books a month plus one - not physics. If you use that as a guideline or timetable, I am far behind my goal. This is June and I should be finished with 12 books by the end of the month. I have only finished 8 and am working on this month's book club selection. Unless I read 3 additional books I will continue to be far behind.

As of today I will only have the self-satisfaction of reaching my personal goal.

Jazz and reading

A lot of picture books about Jazz are rhythmic in prose so these are best read to your children. Many of these titles also have audio components, in some cases along with the book, so use that in conjunction when introducing little ones to Jazz (and poetry).

	Ella Fitzgerald: The Tale of a Vocal Virtuosa - Andrea Davis Pinkney
	Jazz - Walter Dean Myers
	Jazz on a Saturday Night - Leo & Diane Dillon
	Before John Was a Jazz Giant: A Song of John Coltrane - Carole Boston Weatherford
	Charlie Parker Played Be Bop - Christopher Raschka
	Bebop Express - H. L. Panahi
	The Jazz Fly - Matthew Gollub
	This Jazz Man - Karen Ehrhardt
	Duke Ellington: The Piano Prince and His Orchestra - Andrea Davis Pinkney
	Dizzy - Jonah Winter

Baby Loves Jazz Series: Andy Blackman Hurwitz

Andy Blackman Hurwitz is an award winning author of a series of children's books called Baby Loves Jazz. He has several other projects but because it's Jazz-oetry Month (Jazz Appreciation Month + National Poetry Month = Jazz-oetry Month) I am focusing here on the board books in the Baby Loves Jazz series. Hurwitz has an extensive background in the music industry and is self-proclaimed the best daddy in the world.

Check him out further on his own website and check out the Baby Loves Jazz series on his Baby Loves Music website.

There are CDs that provide supplemental lessons with each book that not only babies will enjoy but they aren't unbearable for adults. The books are available at Amazon.com for purchase. You can sample some of the CDs and preview some of the books from Hurwitz's website. 

Hip-Hop and Poetry

Although the posts this month refer to Jazz-oetry Month (Jazz Appreciation Month + National Poetry Month = Jazz-oetry Month), I would be remiss to ignore the similarities of Hip-Hop to Poetry.

I don't like Hip-Hop. It's not an affront to Hip-Hop - I just prefer other styles of music. But as an instructor, future parent, and advocate for children, I cannot ignore Hip-Hop. So, to that end, I recommend two books to enhance the education of Poetry this month for children. They can both be purchased at Amazon.com and have accompanying CDs.

Hip-Hop Speaks to Children: A Celebration of Poetry with a Beat

Poetry Speaks to Children

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

I am hesitant to publish this review of The Help because I fear it will not be considered a positive review. I am by no means adamantly against this book but all my feelings are not warm and fuzzy. I enjoy books that are set in the 40’s-60’s deep south, dirty south with racial tensions and humid summers. And The Help is set in 60’s Mississippi over a couple of years that include summers that are so humid sheets won’t dry on the line surrounding civil rights supporters’ deaths. So it fits that I would want to read the book and that I would enjoy it.

Before I purchased this book, everything I’d heard about it – which, granted, was very little - made me believe the author was African-American. Unfortunately, I found out that was not the case just prior to reading it. The mention of that fact – the book written about the lives of black maids from the point of view of a white author – got me turned up noses, rolled eyes, and pursed lips. I pride myself on not settling with initial feelings that I have that are racist, biased, or prejudiced. However, I found myself thinking thoughts such as, “How is a white woman gone write about life from the point of view of a black woman?” Mind you, I still haven’t cracked it open yet.

Finally, I began reading and what I found most difficult was getting a rhythm. I have read books that are written in dialect, so to speak, such as Zora Neale Hurston’s work and usually have to read them aloud until I find the rhythm of the writing. But this was different. I found myself thinking, “See? She don’t even know how to write the way we talk.” My authority on the matter is self-ordained. Never mind I didn’t grow up in Mississippi in the 60’s and never was a maid – I have decided I am an authority on writing the way we speak, also ignoring the fact that I am not a best selling author yet.

As I go further into the story I am very much engaged. I want to know what the Terrible Awful was and am guessing why Miss Celia has a rust colored stain on her rug. I am pulling for Skeeter and feeling sorry for Stuart. And I feel like this is more of the author’s story than her perspective of life from the point of view of a black maid.

But in the end I think, “Why is this book just now being released?” I am not asking a question about the author’s timing in writing the book nor the time it took to be published and released. I feel like this should have been released in 1965. Then I would appreciate it better. But right now it just makes me angry. As so much of what I hear about Mississippi does.

My people are from Mississippi. When I go to Mississippi I enjoy the tours of the cities where my uncles and aunts work, where my cousins went to school, where my Daddy used to live. I love hearing cashiers and bank tellers greet my uncle by name as he pulls up. I love when I can be identified – whether the person truly remembers me or not – by my Daddy through my uncle. My uncle says in his slow drawl, “This is my niece, Regina. You remember my brother Robert? This is his daughter.” I smile in greeting and the response is always similar – they confirm my Walker status by my smile. And I look out at this place I’ve only heard stories about and see that the leaves on the trees and the grass aren’t done justice by the label “green”. I want to retrace my Daddy’s childhood footsteps and see my granny standing on the soapbox in order to reach the back of the stove and more. I feel like Mississippi has wrapped its arms around me. And then I see the things that are accepted in Mississippi – hearing my senior citizen aunt being called “gal” by a white man made me cringe. And immediately I think, “Ooh, I got to get back to the city where it feel like we’ve overcome.” I want to fight the fights of the 21^st Century – not the same ones as my Daddy.

Anyway, I felt a little more connected to the author in the section where she shares her story in her own words.  She is from Mississippi and lived in New York for several years and now lives in Atlanta. She may complain about Mississippi but you better not complain about it in front of her – especially if you aren’t from there.  That’s real and brings me down off my high horse.

As far as the story – as I said, it was engaging. I want to know more about what happens to each character – I’m not content with the ending where you have an idea of where each person is heading. I want to know the history of Hilly and Elizabeth – two women I feel sorry for (although if I said that in Book Club I would get the strangest looks, dead silence, and then they’d move on to the next question). I felt that it ended a little more optimistic than I would expect to be feasible for some of the characters. There were stories that I felt could have been expanded – but the book is over 400 pages so I guess some things had to go.

I don’t know if I will specifically suggest you read it. I hear it’s going to be a movie. The movie may be better than the book. I think it would be fun to see Phylicia Rashad as Aibileen and Debbie Allen as Minny. Maybe S. Epatha Merkerson could be Aibileen and Mo’Nique as Minny. I’m having a hard time envisioning an actress for Skeeter – I keep thinking a young Nicole Kidman would be perfect. Laura Linney would be good for Skeeter’s mother. Holland Taylor could be Stuart’s mother and Marin Hinkle as Elizabeth.  But I’m no casting agent.

And, uh, well, that’s all I have to say about that.

The Color of Water – James McBride

James McBride, an accomplished musician and African-American author, has written a stunning and impressive tribute to his Jewish mother. My review is late in terms of this book being published in 1996 and because it has been used for multiple higher education curriculums and political/philosophical discussions. However, the best books and stories are poignant for multiple audiences and stand the test of time. I'm sure my review cannot compare with what has been shared in those discussions, lectures, and debates, so I decided to take a slightly different route. My book review here is extensive because I compare my own experiences with the story and events that unfold in James McBride's book.

The first sentence of the story comes from the mouth of Ruth McBride Jordan (b. 1921 - d. 2010) and draws you in although it is simple. I think the best first sentences are two or three words long. Ruth McBride is interviewed by her son, James McBride, and the information she shared after so many years of refusing to talk about it is recorded alternately with the author's story. Ruth, or Mommy – as she was affectionately known by most – refuses to tell her inquisitive and lost son about her past and also refuses to answer his question about her color. This has what was initially a negative effect on her son because he felt a need to know his history and background in order to know himself and his purpose in life better. As Mommy's story unfolds, you find out that there were a lot of occasions where she was a victim of and witness to abuse and neglect. I believe she knew there had to be something better than the life she was living and she was afforded the opportunity to experience that as a result of a less than positive life changing event. I can understand the need to keep some things to yourself, particularly if they were so painful that you didn't know how to respond, however, I believe that keeping that information to yourself not only hurts future generations but must cause some kind of unease (or dis-ease) in the secret keeper.

My own mother has several stories that she promised herself she would take to her grave – and she has (b. 1942 - d. 1989). I suspect those stories include occurrences of abuse and neglect and making choices out of a need to survive that she was embarrassed about and regretted. The problem with that is when the generational cycle of abuse was carried out through her seeds (though not at her hand), we didn't know how to process the victimization and it left us broken. I look at myself in the mirror and at my siblings and wonder just how much of who I am comes from her side of the family – of which there are so many secrets there is no way to ever know the Thomas in me. However, my father's side of the family, the Walkers, is the total opposite. Granted my father withheld many secrets as well, his family is large enough that there are enough people who shared stories so that I know who I am and where I come from despite Daddy's secrets. I see my smile in my aunts and uncles, and my spirit which is both meek and fiery, comes from that side of the family. We are both calm and passionate – yet never hateful, almost loving to a fault. I learned to embrace my wide hips that I am told were from that side of the family even though I am not quite sure which of my aunts I was compared to. And I gain strength in being a part of the Walker tribe because I fit in and see myself in them. I see just what I can become and it is a place where I am accepted which increases my self-esteem and self-worth. But there is still a hole from my mother's side of the family. I imagine that because the author didn't know his father and his mother was keeping secret her life, he had no place to look and see the compilation of genetics and character that shaped and molded his life.

Like my struggle with my Thomas identity, James McBride and his siblings (all 11 of them) also struggled with their identities. They grew up at a time where civil rights movement events were prominent and struggled to find their places in the fight – though all of them did and they were varied in their opinions and methods of participation. They were bi-racial but by society standards classified as black and had to deal with the changes and injustices in their hometown on so many levels. They were rejected by whites for being black and rejected by blacks for being half-white. My ethnic background is comprised of African-American, White (I don't know the heritage of the white man), and Native American/Indian. This is evident in my physical features, despite clearly and obviously being black, and I happen to be more accepted by people who are not black than my African-American brothers and sisters. Well, that's not entirely accurate – I am more often rejected by African-American sisters since the features I possess that connect me to the white and Indian relatives make me "better" (i.e. long wavy hair, high cheekbones, etc. – and not my word or belief) than other black women. Because I often felt rejected by blacks, I never felt passionate about fighting in support of any black causes. I have never supported injustice of any kind but you won't find me in a crowd of black people with my fist raised screaming in support of black power. Part of that is because I am not really a fighter by nature but there are things that I am passionate about and support to the point of sacrifice that have nothing to do with my black heritage. Fortunately, because of the value Ruth McBride placed on blacks, her black children were encouraged to participate in the fight for civil rights.

The McBride-Jordan children all suffered (or benefitted) from Mommy's search for a place to call home as well as her passions against things that were (and still are) stereotypical crutches. She had strong feelings that Jewish schools were better than other schools, that black people were better friends than white (Jewish) people, and adamantly opposed to welfare and did not accept it despite their needs. These passionate contradictions actually manifested in a more balanced view of humanity in the author. Ruth McBride's strong belief that God would take care of her family and her immense love for her family, was not naïve but admirable. I find strength and encouragement in the belief that Ruth McBride consistently told her children that they were "blessed beyond measure" and I strive for the courage to believe as she did through my personal storms as well.

After I finished the book, I wanted to share the story with the world. I tried to think of everyone who would enjoy it and recommended it to them personally and decided to post a review to encourage others to read it as well.

Ruth McBride passed away in January of this year surrounded by the love of her children and reveling in the "fame" she and her son gained from this marvelously spectacular tribute in print.

Find out more about James McBride (author of Miracle at St Anna and Song Yet Sung as well as The Color of Water) at http://jamesmcbride.com.

Reading Rainbow as my NYTimes Best Seller List

Butterfly in the sky/I can go twice as high/Take a look, it's in a book, a reading rainbow/I can go anywhere/Friends to know, and ways to grow, a reading rainbow/I can be anything/Take a look, it's in a book, a reading rainbow…a reading rainbow

O.M.G. that was my favorite show and I can still hear the music to the theme song (quoted above). You should hear me sing it! Or maybe it's better that you aren't tortured by my lack of talent.

I used Reading Rainbow as my New York Times Best Seller List – although I don't recall buying many of the books because most of them were picture books and I was reading chapter books and young adult titles. However, the end part of the show had children doing brief reviews of wonderful books and I wrote the titles down as books to check out. The middle of the show involved a wonderfully told story, narrated by a celebrity and was my favorite part. I literally had butterflies in my stomach from the anticipation of the reading of the book and being able to see the pictures on screen – sometimes animated. I remember one about a crocodile in the bayou that had songs and frogs croaking.

Reading Rainbow is no longer on the air (1983-2006) but the good feeling from a show centered entirely on books and reading and storytelling still registers in my mind. It makes me want to curl up in a ball and read a book borrowed from the library – the hardback ones that smell like moldy old pages.

Storytelling

Zora Neale Hurston called it "telling lies" in her novels – based on her Florida research. Daddy called it telling jokes. I call it storytelling.

Annually on Mother's Day we would go back to Daddy's hometown of Corinth, Mississippi for Mother's Day. After church we'd change clothes and Daddy would tell stories about elderly women who couldn't hear well, students who couldn't spell well, and other light-hearted fun times that didn't really happen quite the way the story proclaimed. And everybody would laugh. Daddy and his baby brother had wide grins, deep voices, and high pitched laughs. There were some guffaws from my cousins, mama's wide-toothed open-mouthed laugh that I inherited, and Auntie's famous laugh with the slow squeals that could be heard a mile away. Hands clapped, knees were slapped, and tears from laughter flowed at the stories.

Daddy was a storyteller and told similar stories around the table after Sunday dinners with church members. They looked at me as if I was the most blessed child in the world to have a father like him. The reactions to Daddy's storytelling made an impression on me because it was a skill that was valued highly. Despite all the hardships, known and unknown, I endured in my childhood; everyone felt I was blessed to have a father like him. Now, granted they felt he was the whole package, but it was while he was making people laugh with his stories that they expressed the feeling.

I am a storyteller as well. I love dramatizing a story, creating the buildup, and giving great details that end in howling laughter for me and the listener. The details don't have to be completely accurate – just present. And you never, ever, go back and correct yourself in your story. If you are doing a great job the listener is there with you, in their mind, and any interruption forces them to draw a new picture in their minds and lose track of the story. My storytelling is similar to Daddy's storytelling.

Parents, you have potential storytellers in your home and they will start telling stories the way you tell them. One of my students re-told Robert Munsch's The Paper Bag Princess with a huge focus on the big knocker. Another storyteller recently told a wonderful story about a little boy having lunch that started with the famous line, "Once upon a time," as so many young storytellers use. If you are not a storyteller but you have little storytellers, then read stories to them. Get a variety of stories so that they can begin finding their own voice (not many stories begin with "Once upon a time" in everyday life). Take them to hear storytellers at the library and museums. And of course, remember their own stories and beg your little storyteller to tell you their best original stories over and over and over again.

Whitehaven Public Library

I will never forget the first time I went to the public library.

Mommy was very excited when I started Kindergarten and we had weekly trips to the school library. She took one look at the book I selected and laughed. I told her that I'd already read it during our hour-long visit and she laughed again. "Why did you choose this book?" she asked me. She returned it to my backpack with instructions to select a more challenging book next time.

The next week she wanted to see my book. This time there was no laughter. "Gina, you are picking books that are too easy. I want you reading books that have more pages and take you longer than an hour to read."

A week later, her disapproval over the book I selected was much more intense. I was reprimanded for choosing the easy picture book and my explanation was met with a drop of mercy. "Mommy," I whined, "I picked the fattest book on the table." We were assigned tables and there were five of us to a table, five books to a table, and that's how we selected our books. My new instructions were to ask the librarian or my teacher to allow me to choose a book from the shelves rather than the easy books on the table.

Finally, I brought home another picture book and the response of the librarian to my request to seek out a more challenging book, which was simply, "No," elicited a look of disbelief on Mommy's face. Immediately we drove to the Whitehaven Public Library.

I walked in the doors of that library and my jaw dropped. I had not ever seen so many books in all my 6 years! (My friends from Memphis – please, remember this was 1982 and my first ever library trip. The Whitehaven Public Library is probably about 600 square feet of limited resources – at least it was around 1994 when I last visited. Well, not really but it's smaller than any other library I've visited since 1990.)

After what felt like hours of waiting to get my library card, I went to the children's section and was just overwhelmed. Mommy suggested that I start with authors who have series so that I can one, figure out my favorite authors and two, know what my next book would be when I went to the library. That advice took me through many summers of reading by an open window with a cool breeze filling the white sheers like a sail and eating granny smith apples.

Thank you Mommy for putting so much interest in my reading abilities and for fostering my love of stories.

In Honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Holiday 2010

Although this day is usually spent speaking of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, the Loraine Motel, and Rosa Parks, I was reminded of Coretta Scott King. Since 1970 an award in her name has been annually presented by the Coretta Scott King Committee of the American Library Association's Ethnic Multicultural Information Exchange Round Table. It’s given for the purpose of “encourag(ing) the artistic expression of the African American experience via literature and the graphic arts, including biographical, historical and social history treatments by African American authors and illustrators” of children’s books.

“The books promote understanding and appreciation of the culture of all peoples and their contribution to the realization of the American dream. The Award is further designed to commemorate the life and works of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and to honor Mrs. Coretta Scott King for her courage and determination to continue the work for peace and world brotherhood.”  (American Library Association website: http://www.pla.org/ala/mgrps/rts/emiert/corettascottkingbookawards/corettascott.cfm#)

The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis (Delacorte), a Coretta Scott King Author Honor book is my favorite book in this category of recognition. It’s for Grades 5-8 but I first read it in college. It is a fictional work that takes places around the bombing of the church in Birmingham that killed four little girls. I have recommended this book to other African-American readers who were looking for something relevant to read. Believe it or not, learning about your history, a history you never witnessed, can be reaffirming and help you to find your place in society. They walked away from this read feeling the way I did – empowered.

Uncle Jed’s Barbershop, illustrated by James Ransome; text by Margaree King Mitchell (Simon & Schuster), a Coretta Scott King Illustrator Honor book (1994) is my favorite picture book in this category of award. I was a college graduate the first time I read this one, determined to build up a library of books for my own children and for my students. It reminds me of being a little girl who had strong relationships with older men who have stories that I both needed and wanted to hear.