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Orphan Stories

January 16, 2012 by misajane

Quick, how many kidlit orphans can you name?  Go ahead–I’ll be here after you finish your list.

 

 

 

A lot, right?  Anne Shirley (and just about all of Montgomery’s heroines), Sara Crewe, Mary Lennox, Rebecca (of Sunnybrook Farm), Pollyanna, Judy from Daddy-Long-Legs and on and on.  Then, throw in the kids that have a parent absent for all or most of the book–the March sisters, the Melendys, the Five Little Peppers and on and on.  Suddenly, it seems like a household with two parents is rare indeed in this fictional world.

I can certainly see the appeal for an author–no parents really opens up the dramatic possibilities for a character.  I remember being completely enchanted with The Boxcar Children–setting up house in a boxcar?  And it’s not like this is a plot device that has faded in recent years.  Harry Potter might possibly be the most famous orphan ever.

But for children living in the 19th century, losing a parent to death was a very real possibility.  In 1900, the average life expectancy was 48 (lower if you weren’t white.).  About half of all young people lost at least one parent before they reached 21.    Leading causes of death included influenza, pneumonia, and tuberculosis.  And for women, childbirth was up there as well.  Anne Shirley’s story may have hit really close to home for her first readers, and yet she was immediately a best-seller.  Many of these stories endure, even though today children are far more likely to lose a parent to divorce than death.  In some ways, this doesn’t make sense–the idea of losing a parent is terrifying.  Why would anyone want to read about such a thing for fun?

Perhaps part of the appeal of these orphan stories is that most of these stories have happy endings.  The kids find homes, whether with long-lost relatives or strangers.  They have sparkling personalities that makes them lovable.  They have adventures that readers with a secure home can barely imagine.

I recently met another beloved orphan in Adopted Jane by Helen Fern Daringer.  This is a book that I hadn’t heard of but came highly recommended.  When I added it to my goodreads shelf, there were all sorts of people that said “Oh, I love this book!”  Jane is an older orphan (you know the type–a good girl, but no longer young and no longer cute and less likely to be adopted).  She has a remarkable summer where she gets to visit two different homes–her first experience in a “real” home.  And then, both families offer to adopt her and she gets to choose a forever home. 

Jane is delightful.  She’s a hard worker and desperate to be polite and do the right thing.  She’s not one of those orphans that gets into constant trouble; rather, she’s a little girl that people just naturally love.  And she learns to love too.  One of my favorite little exchanges in the book is this bit at the end:

“You must write a letter to thank Mr. and Mrs. Scott for their kind offer.”

“Oh, and to say I love them.”  In all her life Jane had never spoken out loud about loving anybody, but now the word sounded right and natural.

Adopted Jane is a classic orphan tale.  Jane is convinced that this is her only chance to see what the world is like outside of the James Ballard Home.  And she sees so much–parties, friends, an elopement.  And she realizes that maybe she should try to go to college.  When she returns to the orphanage, it’s with new eyes.  But she’s still afraid to hope for the best.  She asks to be allowed to earn so money.  The matron says:

“You’re a sensible girl, Jane.  You wouldn’t squander the money like some.”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Jane agreed eagerly.  “I want to save it for–” She checked herself just in time.  She had almost said for college.  Matron would not approve of college; she would call it “highfalutin folderol.

At this point, the happy ending hasn’t come yet.  Jane is still an orphan, though now she has dreams.  With that perfect happy ending, the reader is assured that Jane will get everything her heart desires.

I don’t anticipate orphan tales–or tales of absent parents–will ever go away.  As kids grow, they want to stretch their boundaries.  What would I do if I just had me?  Could I make my way?  But these stories are safe.  By the time the book is closed, they are no longer alone in the world.  And that is satisfying indeed.

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From my archive. . .

January 7, 2012 by misajane

Over the last few months, I’ve been going through my old blog and converting it into a readable word document.  It’s a huge project, and perhaps silly, but I’m a historian so I want to preserve this bit of my own history.  At any rate, tonight I ran across the following post about a top-notch Christmas gift:

Thinking of you (2005-12-23)

My favorite introduction for a Christmas gift: I saw this and instantly thought of you! That’s when I know, almost without a doubt, that it’s going to be good. It’s also a phrase that I rarely hear from my family. . .

 Anyway, one of my coworkers said this to me the other day, and sure enough, this is the best Christmas gift so far! It’s a children’s picture book: The Boy Who Looked Like Lincoln, written by Mike Reiss, a writer for the Simpsons. It’s all about a little boy who (surprise!) looks like Lincoln and the fact that he gets teased all the time. Until he goes to Camp What-Cha-Ma-Call-It, filled with other kids who also look like odd things.

 My favorite part: at the end, the school bullies say “Hey, Lincoln, whatcha thinkin?” And he says “I’m thinking how lucky I am to look like Abe Lincoln, our greatest president, who freed the slaves and won the Civil War and kept our country together and the capital of Nebraska is named after him!” Of course, that little sentence is written in progressively larger letters.

 It’s a giggle worthy book, definitely worth reading in the aisle of your favorite book store (or buying the book (that could be good too).

Folks, I still adore this book.  A few years ago, we did an exhibit on the 1860 election and I picked this book for our preschool story-time.  Reading this to a group of kids and their parents was so much fun!  I don’t talk about picture books very often here, but this is a great one to nurture a love of Lincoln in a little one.  That, and a sense of humor.

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Story first, history second

January 2, 2012 by misajane

Perhaps I was a wee bit prejudiced as I started reading.  Friends that I trusted had very mixed reviews, but I didn’t quite believe them.  After all, the book had won the 2011 Newbery award.  And it was set in 1936, flashing back to 1917 and 1918.  Quite possibly one of my favorite time periods.  I should have loved Moon Over Manifest, but generally speaking, the friends were right.  I became annoyed within the first 50 pages, and downright upset not long after.  And I continue to be puzzled as to how this book rose to the top of children’s fiction in 2011.

Moon Over ManifestFor those not familiar with the book, it’s the story of a 12 year old girl, sent to a small town in Kansas in 1936.  During her summer there, she uncovers the town’s past, with frequent shifts in narrative to 1917 and 1918.    Abilene is a lovely little girl, but she doesn’t have as strong a voice as many other narrators in similar books.  But this wasn’t what bothered me.  What bothered me was the history.

I’ve talked before about the historical fiction trap that so many modern writers fall into: that habit of trying to pull as many historical threads into a story as possible.  You know, to teach children about the past.  It very, very rarely works, and usually annoys folks that have any knowledge about the period in question (The Hope Chest springs to mind).  But very, very rarely does a book inspire me to scurry over to google to check facts in the middle of a chapter.  Here’s the sentence that did that: “Alcohol was against the law then as much as it was in 1917, but folks could usually get a bottle of the stuff here or there.”  Now, I had just finished Ken Burns’ new documentary, Prohibition, and I was pretty sure that the 18th Amendment wasn’t passed until 1920, but FDR had repealed it in 1933.  Some quick checking revealed that Kansas didn’t repeal until 1948.  Plus, prohibition laws got started in Kansas in the 1880s, and the “Bone Dry Act” passed in 1917.  In going back through the book before starting this post, I did see a mention of the Bone Dry Act that I had forgotten about that occurred earlier in the book than the above sentence.  Technically, everything Vanderpool wrote is perfectly correct.  But it clashed with everything in my fairly well-educated historical head, and I just couldn’t get over it.  And I don’t recall anything being said that might have explained that Kansas was different from other states.  And the prohibition thread is a pretty important one for the story.  We’re not talking about a minor, nit-picky detail.

So what does it matter?  After all, the target market for this book isn’t public historians in their 30s.  It’s kids that have probably never heard of prohibition.  They’re not going to be confused by the timeline the way that I was.  I guess my annoyance happens on a couple of different levels.  First, this confusion could very easily have been solved.  Abilene had traveled throughout the country and was new to Kansas.  Couldn’t she have made a comment or asked a question about Shady and his still?  A brief explanation, and the story continues.  Problem solved!  And yet, not even the author’s note (which is quite possibly one of the weirdest author notes ever) mentions the fact that Kansas was one of the last states to repeal prohibition.  I just don’t know how that wasn’t mentioned somewhere. 

But my real issue is this: generally speaking, we as a society are not very well educated about the past.  Whenever I ponder historical accuracy issues in films or books, I tend to look at the big picture.  If the big ideas–the things that people will actually remember a few months after they’ve read the book or seen the movie–are correct, I’m okay.  If people won’t be completely confused if they look something up later, I’m okay.  But I don’t think that tenet holds true for this book.  I must have looked up Kansas liquor laws three or four times while I read this book.  Kind of interrupts the narrative flow, don’t you think?  And can you imagine trying to teach this book?

My other issue with this book is that it seems to have taken every big historical headline from 1917/1918 and made sure the issue happens in that tiny town.  The immigration stuff totally made sense, and I was happy to the stuff about the relationship between the town and its people.  (It made me think of Thurber, TX, a very similiar town).  But throwing in the KKK?  Technically, the KKK did revive itself in 1915, but it wasn’t a huge thing again until after WWI–the whole soldiers coming back and wanting a better life thing caused a bit of strife.  And I don’t think this small incident did anything to move the story along.

And of course, there’s WWI drama, a brief visit from Woodrow Wilson, war deaths, and the big 1918 flu epidemic is foreshadowed for almost the whole book and then barely discussed.  It’s just all a very strange mish-mash of history.

Honestly, I think this would have been a stronger, tighter book if the flashback portions of the book were set in the 1920s.  Yes, much of the WWI stuff would be left out, but the flow of the narrative would have worked better.  And timeline issues would have been solved. 

The best historical fiction are the works that put the story first and history second.  And yes, I’m saying this as a historian.  But I’m saying this as a historian that wants people to like history and get wrapped up in it, and books like this just won’t do it.  The narrative is the important thing, and the history behind it just deepens the story.  In this book–and there’s nothing I’ve found either in the author’s note or on her website to contradict this–she found some cool tidbits about the past and then built a story around it.  And it just doesn’t work for me at all.

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Timeless

December 23, 2011 by misajane

This year marked the 40th anniversary of my museum’s biggest event of the year, Candlelight.  As part of the anniversary, we created a small exhibit and I researched the history of the event.  One thing that surprised me was how quickly the key elements of the event came together: buildings decorated by community groups, performances by community groups, and candlelit paths.  The core elements of the event are pretty much unchanged since 1972–which is pretty remarkable in this day and age.  And there aren’t many museum events anywhere that last for decades–events have a shelf life.  Audiences change, staff change, sometimes even missions change.  While finishing up this project, I realized that probably the biggest factor that’s led to the longevity of this event is the timelessness of Christmas.  People crave tradition this time of year.

We had a smaller event (the reading list and post about last year’s event) this past weekend which featured Christmas chapters from books set during the museum’s time period.  I read quite a few bits from the Little House books and Betsy-Tacy to guests.  For some little ones, it was their first introduction to Laura and Mary.  Many times during the day, I would read a passage, turn to the visitors and say “Does that sound familiar?”  And they would nod eagerly, their eyes round with wonder.  Though the concept of thinking a very good Christmas was a tin cup, a cake, a stick of candy and a penny is completely out of their realm of imagination, the worry about how Santa would find them is still a big concern for kids today.

Historically speaking, it amazes me how set some of our traditions have been for the past century or so.  Though variations of the legend of Saint Nicholas have been around for centuries, Clement C. Moore’s famous poem, “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas,”  wasn’t published until 1823.  And the visual we have of Santa in a red suit with belly and beard wasn’t firmed up until Thomas Nast drew a cartoon in 1863, smack dab in the middle of the Civil War.  (side note: Nast was more famous at the time for his political cartoons, which I find fascinating.  Early political cartoons and Santa, all in one artist!)  During the 19th century, there were enormous changes in how we celebrated Christmas (for more on this, check out Stephen Nissenbaum’s The Battle for Christmas, which I wrote about last year).  But what struck me on this read-through of some old favorites is how these changes weren’t really thought of as new, but the way it’s always been.

Now, historical purists will remind me that the publication dates on these autobiographical novels don’t match the dates they were set, so it’s entirely possible that the attitudes about Christmas better reflect the 20th century than the 19th.  But let’s just ignore that for right now and see what we can find that’s stayed virtually unchanged over the past century and more.  I had thought about typing out some of these wonderful quote and passages for you, but decided that part of the fun is reading the whole chapter.  So, my gift to you is an excuse to pull out an old favorite!

Worry about Santa finding you?  Check out multiple volumes in the Little House series, including Little House on the Prairie (no snow!) and On the Banks of Plum Creek (no chimney!)

The joy of finding the perfect gift for someone?  Take a look at Anne of Green Gables (puffed sleeves!) or Roller Skates (Trinket’s first Christmas tree).

The worry of not being able to give all you want to?  Probably all of the Little House books and Little Women too (“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.”)

The importance of stockings!  Again, Little House and also the later Betsy-Tacy books.

Hinting about something you want and not trusting your family to get it for you?  Why, you simply must read “The Brass Bowl” in Heaven to Betsy (possibly my favorite Christmas passage in the BT books.)

Food, glorious food?  Well, descriptions are all over the place, but Farmer Boy immediately leaps to mind.  The description of the feast almost takes up a whole page.

The fun of shopping, even if you don’t buy?  Why, go no further than Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown, which also includes one of my favorite bits about the importance of believing in Santa, even if you are grown up.

I know I’m leaving out many Christmas classics.  What are some of your favorites?  These stories have so much in common, even if they were written decades ago.  And I think they’re going to last just fine into the future.  Even as time and technology hurries forward, some things, especially emotions don’t change much.

And now I must run to do a wee bit of last minute shopping myself.  Merry Christmas to you and yours.  And happy reading!

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Evangelism

November 20, 2011 by misajane

My poor, neglected blog.  I knew it had been a long time, but I hadn’t realized it had been over two months.  Sheesh!  And it’s not like I’ve quite dropped off the face of the earth or stopped reading–just the usual very busy fall.  So what brings me back, finally, to this little corner of the internet?  An old favorite, of course.

This summer, I met two very special little girls and became their occasional babysitter.  They live in the neighborhood, are an absolute hoot, and plus, it’s a wee bit of extra money for the trip to Hawaii (yes, part of my absence was spent in Hawaii) and some major house projects.  As soon as I met Grace (age 9) and Sophie (age 7), I knew that these kids were ripe for my influence–there were books all over their house, and Sophie has one heck of an imagination.  I knew right away that these girls needed to meet Betsy and Tacy.  And about a million other of my favorites too–right now, there’s a wee bit too much Disney Fairy stuff in their life.

Now, I’ve been a book evangelist for the kids in my life for years.  I give books as gifts, cross my fingers, and hope for the best.  Rarely do I hear anything, though I’m always thrilled when I do.  I’ve had some pretty good success with nephew Bobby (we had a very memorable text conversation after he finally read Hunger Games), but never, ever with any of my favorites.  The closest was when I gave Katie a copy of Anne last year–she took it to dinner with her but was too distracted by the Bob Armstrong dip to actually start reading it.  But hey–a kid that takes books to dinner–that’s my kind of kid.

The first time I babysat Grace and Sophie, I brought Betsy-Tacy with me.  I knew that they had reading time (specifically, read aloud time) before bed and very carefully introduced my book.  Right away, they seemed intrigued, closely examining the pictures and asking questions.  And each time I came back, they made sure I had brought the book and we read a few more chapters.

I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten to share one of my favorites like this before.  It is pure magic.  They’re listening so hard and get so wrapped up in the story.  My favorite moment with them was when we read the Easter Egg chapter, the chapter in which Baby Bee dies.  I was a little nervous about this bit, mainly because I wasn’t sure how much their parents had talked to them about death and dying.  When we got to the line “She didn’t come over the next day, nor the next, for Baby Bee died.” Sophie gasped.  Like really gasped with the whole wide-eyed shocked expression on her face.  We stopped for a minute to talk about how there weren’t as many good medicines back then, so sometimes people died.  And then we got to the part where Betsy explains to Tacy: “But she gets all the news. . . Do you know how she gets it?  Why, from the birds.  They fly up there and tell her how you are and what you’re all doing down at your house.”  At this point, ever practical and literal Grace says “That’s not how it is at all.”  I almost burst out laughing, but managed to keep a straight face.

The last time I watched the girls happened to be Sophie’s 7th birthday.  I wanted to get her a little something, so picked up a clothespin doll from our museum store.  Sophie was completely enraptured with the little brown-haired doll and said (at absolutely no prompting from me!): “It’s Betsy!”  That wasn’t at all my intention when I gave it to her, I swear!  After all, this is a grown-up doll, not a little girl doll.  But she played with Betsy all night and has requested a red-headed doll.  And that night, they chose to read an extra chapter of Betsy, rather than have some time to read their own books.  My work here is done.  Though the next time I come over, I’m thinking about making sand jars, and that will probably really send them over the top.

The Betsy-Tacy Treasury: The First Four Betsy-Tacy Books (P.S.) CoverFor Christmas, guess what these little girls are getting?  Why, the new Betsy-Tacy Treasury, of course!  Isn’t it awfully nice of Harper Collins to publish this right when I have such good little converts?  They’re going to eat up all the extra information and photos and biographies with a spoon.

Have you been able to successfully share some of your kidlit history favorites?  Any great stories?

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Dated Snapshots

September 15, 2011 by misajane

Several months ago, the book Senior Trip by Marjorie Holmes was handed to me with the words “Read this.  It’s fun–you’ll like it!”  So I dutifully put in on my “to read” shelf in the bedroom, and there it sat for several months.

A few weeks ago, I had run out of library books so I picked it up.  Immediately, I liked it–loved Fran, loved the spirit of a small town working together, loved the magic with which these kids saw Washington D. C.

But then there was a moment where my jaw dropped, and I almost stopped reading.  The set-up is this–the kids have gathered, with signs, to persuade the school board to let them take their trip to DC.  Almost the entire thing has been Fran, the class president’s idea.  It’s her voice that tells the story.  And then she says this: “I encouraged him and the other boys to plan the attack.  While women should be active in politics and all that, it seems to me there are times when it’s more appropriate to let men handle things.”  The feminist in me roared.  It was her idea!  It was her organizational skills that got the signs made, and the protestors together.  She and her friends (girls, I might add) had done everything that got their classmates to this point.  The books suddenly felt dated, and not in a good way.

But I kept reading, in part to see if there were any other moments like that and in part to see what their DC trip was like.  And though I enjoyed the rest of the book, that one little sentence dampened my enthusiasm.

The museum nerd in me wishes there had been more descriptions of the museums.  Fran does fall completely in love with the National Portrait Gallery, but stolen moments with a boy get more words than her awe at the art.  But throughout the portion that occurs in DC, there’s this optimism and patriotism and love of our country that is becoming harder and harder to find.  This book was published in 1962; before Kennedy’s assassination, before Vietnam, before Watergate, before 9/11.  Before patriotism changed.  It became dated on an entirely different level.

I finished my read of Senior Trip on September 9, just days before the 10th anniversary of 9/11.  Reminders of the 10th anniversary were everywhere, and as I read,  I couldn’t help but think of my second trip to DC, in late September 2001.  I had been to DC a few years before, as a college student visiting my boyfriend who was doing summer research in DC (he got to hang out at the Library of Congress on a regular basis.  I still envy that summer of his!)  This was a very different trip. 

I had won a fellowship, so others were paying for my travel and lodging.  Regan was still closed, so they got me on a plane that routed me from Raleigh to Chicago to Dulles.  This seemed very, very silly.  Mom really didn’t like the idea of me driving to DC by myself (I had just moved 1500 miles away, plus the 9/11 thing, so she was sensitive), so I booked travel on Amtrak.  As soon as I arrived in Union Station, the city felt different.  I skipped one day of the conference to do museum things.  The National Mall was deserted.  There were barricades and security everywhere.  I got to the National Museum of American History early and waited on the museum’s broad steps.  There were a handful of people waiting with me, along with a security guard.  Someone asked him what attendance had been like in the weeks since 9/11.  He replied that they were lucky to see in a day what they normally see in an hour.  My jaw dropped.

That visit to the history museum was unlike any other.  For one thing, I was almost entirely alone.  I was able to stand in front of the ruby slippers all by myself and just stare. I was able to go through an exhibit on the Presidency almost completely alone.  It was eerie and moving and not quite right.

So, it was strange to read this optimistic, glowing account of visiting our national capitol as I was reminded of that trip 10 years ago.  Senior Trip captures emotions that seem almost foreign in today’s climate.  It’s a snapshot of yesterday.

But already the fabled city seemed to come running out to meet us with its million messengers of light.  The traffic had thickened; taillights made a winking necklace of red rubies strung before us straight ahead.  The suburbs blazed and sparkled their welcome on either side of the highway, and drawing deeper and deeper into the lights, you were in a veritable fairyland, a blazing garden, and facing a river where the lights were golden stripes upon the water far below.  Suddenly you were in the city proper, sufficiently penetrated into their very core for the lights to melt aside in favor of the sky.  And there, serenely crowning in its solitary splendor, we saw the white and shining thing we all had been watching for.

“There she is, the dome, the dome, the Capitol dome!” The cry went up as it to hail some celestial mother.  And in the next gasp: “The Monument!  The Washington Monument!”  For beyond, clean and sharp and clear, that tall white finger stood.

As long as I live, no sight will ever equal that moment for me–that moment of that night when we first saw Washington.  –Senior Trip p. 122 & 123

Today, it’s hard to imagine students entering the city with the same enthusiasm.  But perhaps the last 10 years have made me cynical.

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What if?

September 2, 2011 by misajane

Many moons ago (11 years ago, to be exact.  Good lord, how time flies!), I was an intern at the Women’s Museum.  Part of my job was to process the many, many loans–it’s a non-collecting institution so every artifact on display had to come from somewhere else.  I have many, many stories about that summer and the artifacts I got to care for (with white gloves, of course), including Edith Head’s Oscar and Eleanor Roosevelt’s knitting needles.  But I was already interested in movie history and Eleanor Roosevelt was already on my top 10 list of favorite historical people.  One artifact, though, sparked a new interest: a parachute.  It was in almost backpack form, and it was heavy.  It was worn by a WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots), and I tried to put my brain around carrying a load like that.  It was hard to imagine.  Though I’ve never done much research on the WASP, whenever I see mention of it, a little bell goes off in my head.

The main archives for the WASP program are held at Texas Women’s University(http://www.twu.edu/library/wasp.asp), which is located about an hour north of Dallas.  I’ve been to that archives a few times, researching various things relating to women and war.  They have a permanent exhibit relating to the WASP and have an extensive oral history collection.  It’s all very, very amazing.

FlygirlSo, I was happy to hear about Sherri Smith’s Flygirl and even happier to see that it was getting rave reviews.  It’s one of those stories that should be better known.  The WASP story is a great one–flying seems so “easy” now–we forget how daring those early pilots were.  And then, I discovered that the main character, Ida Mae Jones, was African American and decided to pass as white in order to serve her country.

Sherri Smith tells us in the afterword that there’s no evidence that anyone like Ida Mae served as a WASP.  But here’s the thing: this story could have been told just as easily with a white woman as the main character.  And it still would have been a good story.  Making Ida Mae African American adds wonderful layers of complexity and opens up all sorts of room for big ideas.  What is race?  Could you deny your identity for something you believe in?  Does Ida Mae have a place in the post-war America?

I admit that my list so far of kidlit history is dominated by white protagonists.  And history in general, especially public history, is still dominated by a white narrative.  I could go into some of the many, many reasons public history is both ahead and behind of broadening that narrative, but this isn’t the place to do that.  Suffice it to say that a big part of the reason I love this book is that it takes a story that doesn’t have to be about race and makes it about race.  We know non-white women served.  Here’s some brief biographical information on Hazel Ah Ying (http://www.twu.edu/library/wasp/wasppdf/Lee.pdf) and Maggie Gee (http://www.twu.edu/library/wasp/wasppdf/GeeM.pdf), two Asian pilots that served.  Smith had the courage to ask the question: “What if?” and answered it with her novel. 

Smith also had the courage to end Ida Mae’s story with a big question mark.  There’s no real place for Ida Mae after the war and whatever she chooses, she’ll have to deny a big part of herself.  There are no easy answers for her.  It’s powerful stuff to think about.

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A season of reading

August 20, 2011 by misajane

Growing up, the library’s summer reading program was always a highlight of the summer.  Finally, treats for always having my nose in a book!  Alas, I never won any of the big prizes.  Our program was all about the number of books read, not the number of pages.  And I kept choosing really big books.

As a grownup, I still have this feeling that I should be reading more in the summer.  After all, it’s been super hot, and reading is something you should do in the comfort of air conditioning.  Plus, summer tv just isn’t as good.  But every year, my visions of reading the summer away in June turn out to be not so true in August.  The pesky real world always gets in the way.  This year has been even more annoying–I added a reading goal to my goodreads profile.  According to their lovely bar graph, at my current rate, I’m 8 books behind.  At least this is better than earlier in the week when I was 9 books behind.

So what have I been reading this summer?  Lots and lots of varied things.  Not a huge amount of kidlit history (hence, the dearth of posts lately), but here are a few recent reads, somewhat related to kidlit history.

Papa Married a Mormon by John D. Fitzgerald.  Not kidlit at all, but Fitzgerald is best known for his Great Brain books–and this is really the first version of those stories, told to an adult audience.  I had really mixed feelings about this book.  On the one hand, it is a great slice of life/memoir of the Western frontier.  On the other hand, I kept waiting for it to have the sparkle and humor of the Great Brain books, and it never quite made it.  Perhaps if I read this first, I would have liked it more.  However, I do find it fascinating that he wrote two versions of his family’s story for two different audiences.  I can’t think of any other authors that have done similiar things.

Jane of Lantern Hill by L. M. Montgomery.  My memories of Jane were vague, but I certainly remembered her delight in keeping house.  And since I was enjoying rearranging after the roomie moved out, a bit of domesticity felt right.  This is one of Montgomery’s last novels (published in 1937), and it felt incredibly odd to read about cars.  There aren’t supposed to be cars on PEI!  But think of the changes in the 30 years since Montgomery had published Anne. . .

 A mention of an early edition of Alice in Wonderland in Lethal Legacy by Linda Fairstein (a fabulous mystery set in the world of rare books and the New York Public Library) caused me to bump up Alice I Have Been by Melanie Benjamin on the To-Read list.  I’m about halfway through it now.  I’ve never really thought much about the real life counterparts to classics.  Granted, the story of Alice Liddell and Lewis Carroll is a bit more questionable than the origins of some other children’s classics.  But I do wonder how Alcott’s surviving sisters felt about the runaway success of Little Women.  Did Laura’s sisters really want to relive their early strugges though Little House?  Something to ponder.

Is summer a season of reading for you too?  Where have your bookmarks been lately?

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My History with Harry

July 19, 2011 by misajane

Some of you will think this is the post in which this blog, a blog primarily about historical fiction, jumps the shark.  After all, I’m pretty sure that even though Harry Potter is insanely popular, no one would classify his story as history.  But there are many, many ways in which history and children’s literature intersect.

But first I need to tell you my Harry Potter story.  There have been a lot of people talking this weekend about their love for Harry.  And maybe my story is just like theirs.  And maybe not.

I first discovered Harry the summer before my junior year of college, 1999.  I wanted something light before heading back to Hendrix, and I was starting to hear some buzz so I picked up Sorcerer’s Stone in paperback.  I liked it, but wasn’t quite head over heels yet.  A few weeks later, my boyfriend bought me Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban as an anniversary present.  That’s when the books went to a new level.

But something else pushed them over the top too–my copies got passed around to my core group of friends, the Galloway Girls.  They were the only books that all six of us, six women with very different tastes, had read.  And we kept talking about them.

Fast forward to the summer of 2000.  The Enchanted Forest (now tragically out of business) was hosting a release party for Goblet of Fire.  I really wanted to go, but it was a party at a children’s book store.  I wasn’t a child.  But!  My favorite nephew, Bobby, was a big fan of the books.  His dad had been reading them to him at bed time.  So, being the good aunt that I am, I offered to take Bobby to the party.  It was all about him, of course.

Bobby was Harry Potter for Halloween for several years.

I should better explain my friendship with Bobby and his family.  We’re not blood-related at all.  His parents and my parents became good friends through church.  I was Bobby’s first babysitter–and he was really the first kid I had known since he was in utero.  The only words that really work to explain us is aunt and nephew.

We had a great time at the party!  This was before the era of midnight releases, so it was actually a morning party.  They had folks dressed as characters, crafts (wands and brooms!) and a creature feature from the Dallas Zoo.  Bobby was not quite 8, so these characters were very, very real to him.  When we finally spotted the kid dressed as Harry, Bobby looked at me with his eyes wide: “Is that the REAL Harry Potter?”  I said yes.  He said “Do you think we can get a picture?”

His dad told me later: “After you left, Bobby said: ‘That was the Best Day of My Entire Life.”  That made me feel pretty good–after all, I had a pretty good time too. 

 

I wound up attending release parties for all of the remaining books, though I never dressed up and only waited in line for my copy once.  For Order of the Phonenix, I went to a party at my favorite book store in Raleigh.  It was one of the last things I did before moving back to Texas.

For Half Blood Prince, I just happened to be arriving in Portland the day of the release.  Which meant that I was able to go to Powell’s gigantic block party.  It was AWESOME.  I have never seen so many people excited about a book in the same place.  Since it was the start of vacation, I didn’t buy the book until I got home.  Otherwise, I knew I would be no fun on the trip (and mom, a non-reader, would not have understood).  It was torture to fly home and see everyone else in the world reading it but me.  But I took an extra day off of work and caught up at home.

For Deathly Hallows, I went to a party at a local Barnes and Noble, but headed home at midnight.  Early the next morning, I picked up my reserved copy at my dad’s store, got a large coffee, and went home to read.  There were a lot of tears. 

When the first movie came out, Bobby’s family and my family saw it together.  It was very nice of all the movies to come out either very close to Thanksgiving or in the summer.  In 2001, I was living in North Carolina for grad school, so we watched it together when I was home for the holiday.  We saw Chamber of Secrets with our families, as well as Prisoner of Azkaban.

When Goblet of Fire came out, there was a big debate about whether or not Bobby’s little sister was old enough for Goblet of Fire.  Her mom decided no, so Bobby and I went by ourselves to that one.  And we’ve seen every other movie, just us, ever since.  Sometimes we’ve seen it separately before seeing it together, but we’ve always seen it together.  Before each movie came out, I’d have this fear: would this be the year that Bobby said he didn’t want to go with me?  After all, we all know the horror stories about teenagers–surely, one day, I would be judged no longer cool.  But he never said “not this time.”

Bobby is about to start his senior year of high school.  It is truly hard to believe that the little guy pictured above is now taller than I am, dating cute girls and driving.  Seeing the last movie was loaded with meaning and emotion for me.  It wasn’t just about Harry’s story, but my story.  Memories of passing one set of books around the college dorm.  Memories of watching this really cool kid grow up.  We made plans to see it on Sunday.  As I told some friends, “there is a good possibility that I will be a complete and blubbering idiot throughout most of the movie.”  Because let’s be honest here: I was tearing up just thinking about watching it.  When we were driving to the theater, I told Bobby: “I have two requests.  #1:  We have to take pictures.  #2: I will probably cry a lot and you can’t make fun of me.” 

The showing we aimed for, IMAX 3D,was sold out even though we got there way early.  Oops.  So we waited an hour and a half and watched it in 3D.  I did cry, but I don’t think I ever turned into the blubbering idiot I feared.  And the whole day was deeply satisfying.

So how is Harry historic?  Frankly, I don’t think we’ll ever see a literary phenomenon like this again.  Can you imagine families buying multiple copies of a book ever again?  Or staying up till midnight to get it?  The timing was incredible–just as the internet was taking off, but before e-readers dominated the marketplace.  Though there were plenty of online communities for books, there were none like the Harry Potter community. 

This blog is really all about how childhood reading shapes us as adults.  An entire generation of kids, kids like Bobby, have grown up with Harry.  Harry is a profound part of their personal history.  And I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all.  We don’t know what kinds of lives these kids will lead.  But if Harry’s their role model, well, I think our future is looking pretty bright.

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Kindred Spirits

July 14, 2011 by misajane

A few weeks ago, a friend said to me:

“I just got an ice cream maker.  So I’m thinking about having a party where we watch Anne of Green Gables and then break into the ice cream at the same time Anne tastes ice cream for the first time.  What do you think?”

I’ll give you one guess to figure out what I said.

Yes, you’re right.  I was thrilled!  Best party idea ever!

I should say a few words about this friend.  I have this tendency to categorize my friends, and she falls in the ”museum friend” category–another educator at a history museum.  When she first moved to Texas, she called me up and said “I need a mentor.”  Or something like that.  I still find that incredibly ironic because a)she’s older than me and has lots more experience and b)I’ve probably learned more from her than she’s ever learned from me.  We quickly became good colleagues and have shared many a drink as we discussed various museum educator quandries.

But I didn’t realize our shared love of Anne until I invited her to a housewarming at my last apartment.  From my trip to PEI, I have a wonderful watercolor of Green Gables.  It’s like a secret password–to most folks, it’s just an old house.  A picture of an old house makes sense in the home of someone that has been working in historic house museums for years.  But to those that are kindred spirits, well, it’s GREEN GABLES!!  At any rate, when she saw that picture she squealed “Green Gables!!”  And then I learned that she dragged her husband to PEI for their honeymoon.  That may have been the moment that our friendship went to a new level.

So, her party thrilled me for a couple of reasons.  Chief among them was my ability to say to another friend (who was invited but didn’t come): ”See, it’s not just me!  I’m not the only person you know who has this crazy love of Anne!” (this other friend thinks that I’m making my Betsy-Tacy friends up. . .)   It has also been years since I’ve watched the movie.  And finally, it gave me an excuse to make raspberry cordial again.

I would classify raspberry cordial as one of those iconic literary foods.  When you hear the name, well, don’t you just automatically think of Anne?  And how often do you hear about raspberry cordial and Anne isn’t referenced somehow?  I made the recipe from Kate MacDonald’s cookbook, which means it was a non-alcoholic cordial.  Just raspberry cordial is a bit much, so we added some Sprite and man, it was tasty.  As was the ice cream!  Isn’t the cordial pretty?  Please excuse the containers–I did not want a raspberry interior in my car. . .

Watching any movie with friends is a bit different than watching a movie alone.  I honestly have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve watched Anne from start to finish.  This time around, I really noticed the humor.  Montgomery had this sharp, ironic edge to her pen.  Of course, Anne’s dramatic flair can get a little tiring, but I’m still amazed at how much dialog was lifted straight from the books.

And though the scene where Matthew died didn’t make me cry, the scene where Anne tells Marilla that she’s staying in Avonlea and giving up college for the time being did make me tear up.  Some members of the party will insist that I started crying much earlier in the movie.  This is not true–my eyes were tearing up from a combination of allergies and laughter.  Not the fact that Marilla finally said that Anne could stay.

But it was so good to watch and laugh and enjoy that movie with friends.  And ice cream and raspberry cordial.  There are lots of other folks gathering to watch a literary movie tonight as well, a movie that will likely make a few more dollars than Anne ever did.  Still, even though we may always be frustrated at what the movies mess up, there’s something magical about watching a decent movie based on a book you love.  Reading can be such a solitary experience, but watching a movie doesn’t have to be.  I know the standard line for readers is that “a movie is never as good as the book.”  My personal attitude is: as long as people won’t be horribly confused if they pick up the book after watching the movie, I’m good.  As long as any plot changes still make sense with the character’s personality, I’m good.

So yes, I can live with Anne of Avonlea, but we will not speak of the third Anne movie. 

And sometime in the next week, I’ll totally be in a movie theater, bawling my eyes out at the last Harry Potter movie.

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