This week was my week to talk about books I read over the summer.
I think I might have to carry on and do a few more next week since Darcy Pattison’s declared it
Random Acts of Publicity Week.

Some people come up with the swellest ideas.

(Plus, I missed posting on Thursday and if I was going to do a week on books I really should’ve done a whole week.
I don’t know what happened to Thursday.
Did you guys have a Thursday at your house?
I think there might have been sun spots or something that zapped Thursday clean away.)

So, this may or may not be my last summer reading post.
Either way, I can say with conviction that I have really, really loved Donald Hall for quite some time.
And this summer I got that confirmed him by reading his memoir, Unpacking the Boxes.

It’s not so much that I admire every single thing he’s ever done or yearn for a life exactly like his (though there is a sacred sense of the idyllic in his New Hampshire writing life); it’s more that the honesty of growing into and through the poet that he became is disarmingly beautiful and moving.

There is loss and sorrow, of course, because he’s 80 and life works that way — in his case, the greatest grief reserved for his beloved wife, the poet Jane Kenyon who died of cancer. But there’s also tremendous good humor and lovely observations of the ordinary. It reminds me of the beginning bits of Stephen King’s  On Writing, where he just recounts who he was as a boy as sort of breadcrumb clues to who he became. Only Hall’s feels completely without pretense and, while not necessarily self deprecating, pure.

Today, on Poetry Friday, I thought I’d share Hall’s poem Ox Cart Man, which he later adapted and turned into one of my favorite picture books. Enjoy…

Ox Cart Man

by Donald Hall

(Read the rest here….)

In case you’re just joining me, I’m posting all about reading this week…
the act of and the books themselves.

I love a lot of books, I really do, but only a few totally and completely wallop me.

This summer, the book that blew me away was YA novel Marcelo in the Real World, by Francisco X. Stork.

Marcelo is a tender, compassionate novel about the truly good-hearted title character negotiating his own challenges with Asperger’s Syndrome, and a summer job at his father’s law firm. And that, dear reader, would be enough. I assure you. Marcelo’s voice is so unique and appealing, and the summer job so jarring that I would’ve read straight through that story and been happy as a little duck.

But noooo…. Stork doesn’t stop there. He lays in a narrative thread of intrigue and moral outrage and suspense. Oh, right, and then how about some biblial allusions and a crisis of faith? And you want a little romance? Let’s toss some of that in there, too.

Mercy, Mr. Stork, you leave us wanting for nothing!

This book got eversomuch bigger than I expected and it held every bit of itself quite gracefully. I never felt conscious of the juggles the author must’ve been pulling off; instead I was just lost in story and crying quite a bit. (I am always so happy to get a good book and a good cry taken care of at the same time…)

I don’t want to say more for fear of spoiling it for anyone. This book is full of energy and humor and passion and love. And If you haven’t read it yet, you ought to…

I’m pretty sure I’ll never run out of stuff to read since my bedside stacks are always toppling over.

Lucky me…

So, as always, I read a lot this summer and nothing was more fun than the books written by friends…

Here were some of my faves:

Eternal is Cynthia Leitich Smith’s second gothic fantasy novel (the first was Tantalize). It tells the tale of a teenager moving into the realm of Dracul and, subsequently, her own power. And, at the same time, we’re introduced to the girl’s love-struck and slightly bumbling guardian angel. Whoa, boy, this is one to rip through!

I’ve always been such a stodg with my "I like realistic fiction"  hoo-ha, but I’m thinking of changing my tune because this was some seriously gruesome fun. I love the cover, I love the alternating viewpoints, and I love being totally shocked at the end of a good book!

P.J. Hoover’s The Emerald Tablet  puts the final nail in my "only realistic fiction" coffin. Mercy, gals, you can create some crazy worlds! Love the tele-this and tele-that used by our hero to get stuff done, love the Hogwartsian school setting and love the fact that this is just number one in a trilogy! Bring it on!!

The Day-Glo Brothers is just the first of many impeccably researched biographies Chris Barton is going to bring to young readers some day. And thank goodness for that, because this book is so interesting and so charming and so gosh-darn poppy-hipster looking that it just made me wish I could hang out with Bob and Joe Switzer — the guys who invented Day-Glo. And I think that’s what a good biography’s supposed to do. Since I can’t, I’m just awfully grateful I get to occasionally hang out with Chris!

I really, really, really loved Linda Urban’s first novel, A Crooked Kind of Perfect, and dang if I didn’t love her first picture book just as much. I loved it because the text is so lyrical and so funny at the same time, I loved it because Henry Cole’s art is clean and simple but sooooo expressive, and I loved it because the message to kids is so spot-on. But I mostly loved it because Mouse reminds me eversomuch of my very own Small One, in looks and sensibility, and it’s good to see her getting her day in the sun. So to speak.

Me with You is Kristy Dempsey’s first picture book but there are more on the way and it’s no wonder. That girl can rhyme, I tell you. This is just exactly the kind of book I read to my girls over and over and over again in the rocking chair when they were wee. And the only thing that makes me mad about it is that it wasn’t available then! The lyrics, dreamy… the message, dreamy… and that bear pair? Dreamy, dreamy, dreamy…

What an abundance of riches!
More tomorrow, ya’ll…

This week, I want to post about some of my very best summer reading, from picture books to adult novels.
Revving up to that, a few thoughts (and links to thoughts) on reading…

This little rant from the NY Times on how "nothing can measure how a young life can be changed by literature."

And this related article on a new model for "the reading workshop."

This old post of mine (brought to mind when we went to see Wicked and decided "Ozmopolitan" was going to have to become part of our family lexicon).

And another old post about school visits, which I’ll be starting up again soon after a summer hiatus.

That’s all for today.
Off to read for a bit…

Earlier this week, I enjoyed some good email banter with a few smart friends.
One of my emails consisted wholly of the line, "Pynchon. Yes. Duh."
Which admittedly doesn’t sound very elevated but I promise you there was substance before and after.

Anyway, my friend Amy wrote back and dared me to write a poem starting with that line.
I took that as a sign that I choose my friends well. I mean, receiving dares to write poems? The luck!
And, not one to avoid provocation, I’ll share here this little ditty, hot off the press:

V.

Pynchon. Yes. Duh.
His name on the tip
of my tongue, starts
with a P, wrote that book
you loved in college. We argued
about it, remember?
We saw that movie
you compared it to, we argued
in front of the theater
and then for two more days.
That sort of thing
used to really matter.
Didn’t it?

— Liz Garton Scanlon, 2009

Today I took a 3rd grader and a 5th grader to school, which is just flat out hard for me to fathom.
Honestly, this is the last year of elementary school for my eldest and since she was JUST BORN, there must be some weird time-space discontinuum thing going on.

The principal offered Koffee and Kleenex to the new kindergarten parents and darn if I didn’t think about nosing in on that.

The thing is, when they are in school I DO get more work done.
And the routine serves us all well in some ways.

The house is tidier.
Exercise is steadier.
Bedtimes are… well. There actually are bedtimes.

But sometimes I think bedtimes and tidy houses and work are overrated.
Y’know? 

I mean, compared to kayaking.
And dominoes.
And ice cream cones.
And campfires.
And cannonballs.
And libraries.
And turtle catching.
And musicals.
And boogie boarding.
And naps.
And postcards.
And stuff like that.

All with a couple of the most enthusiastic little people on the planet.

But it’s almost September now and those little people were nearly popping with enthusiasm as we rolled up to school this morning. "I love summer and I love winter, too," said Small One.
Which is really pretty hilarious when you consider it was 103 degrees again today.
But I know what she means.

She’s ready.
Ready for another year of exploration and accomplishment and connection and fun.
And so are the other happy kids I saw  stomping into school today with their new haircuts and tennis shoes.

Who am I to put the brakes on things?

Bring it on, I say.
Bring the new teachers and the dioramas and the book fair and the sleepovers and the kickball games and the morning assemblies and the permission slips and the monkey bars. Heck, bring on the times tables.

Bring it all on, and I’ll get some popsicles to serve after school…

We interrupt this weekend to bring you the winner of my blog giveaway!!
(I promised a signed copy of my new book to one of my commenters during All the World week
here at Liz in Ink.)

Some of you suspected I was trying to wiggle my way out of my vow, because my blog went silent soon after. And it’s true — I did escape to the beach for one last gasp of summer fun but I did not forget about all of you.

In fact, it was right there on South Padre Island that I did the drawing.
Right there in the sand.
(Which seems appropriate since the book opens on the beach.
And is being published by Beach Lane Books.
You gotta love a good theme…)

So. First, I dug a hole…

Then I put all the entries in the hole. (There were sixty!!!)

I was going to ask these guys to draw the winner, but they were busy…

So then I thought, maybe these guys. But they were busy, too…

I asked this guy, but he was kind of crabby.

Luckily, my own Tall One volunteered. Here she is, picking a winner!

And you guys, because there were so many of you and you were all so kind and I am so overcome with all my luck and gratitude, I actually asked her to pick two. I wish I could give away sixty but I think my mom and dad would be bummed since they’re sorta hoping for a copy.

So, my hearty congratulations to ….

TANITA DAVIS

and

ERIN HARDY JOHNSON!!!!

(Tanita and Erin — please email me at Liz@LizGartonScanlon.com with your snail mail address and instructions on who the book should be inscribed to. Yeehaw!!!)

And thanks, everyone, for playing….
 

Hey friends…

We’re off getting our last gasp of summer before school starts.
Drawing will happen shortly!

Cheers!

Hello, friends.

Thanks so much for being with me this week in anticipation of the release of my next picture book!

I have to admit that I look forward to the next couple weeks when I’ll be talking about other, less navel-gazey things, including other people’s books that I read (and loved) this summer.

But in the meantime, it’s been awfully nice and flattering having so many of you stop by…

Now then.
Today is the last day to enter the drawing for a signed copy of All the World, which I’ll mail to the winner the very day the books arrive at my house. Seriously. That afternoon, it’s in the mail and on it’s way to you. To enter, just leave a comment here or on facebook or send me an email. I’ll say a little lucky spell over your entry and stir it into the mix.

But what is this book you’re entering to win? you ask.
Well.
That’s the thing.
It’s kinda hard to say.

It’s not a story, although Marla created an exquisite living, breathing narrative in the art.
It’s not about a particular thing, the way my first book was about pockets.
It’s not a how-to or a biography or a collection of jokes or recipes.

It’s really just kind of a poem.
I’ll show you a little of it, to give you the idea…

Rock, stone, pebble, sand
Body, shoulder, arm, hand
A moat to dig, a shell to keep
All the world is wide and deep…

Nanas, papas, cousins, kin
Piano, harp and violin
Babies passed from neck to knee
All the world is you and me…

(Selected stanzas from All the World, by Liz Garton Scanlon, 2009)

I can’t wait to send it you!
Happy Friday everyone…
Namaste.

To me, one of the most delightful things about publishing a book is that you get to include a dedication.
I love this idea, that the book is for a particular someone and, at the same time, everyone else, too.
It’s just a tiny little line or two, but in there is recognition and gratitude and love.

In that vein, I’ve offered up my portion of All the World to my husband.

In a week, we will have been married fifteen years, which kind of freaks us out because we really don’t feel that old.
But sure enough, it’s been that long, and the whole time, Kirk has backed me up, cheered me on, and talked me down.

He’s rolled with my rather extreme manifestations of elation and despair, distraction and obsession, passion and exhaustion. 
He’s co-parented, co-cooked and -cleaned, co-created, co-conquered and co-cracked up with me.
And he’s carried more than his fair share of the financial load as I’ve spent zillions of hours on less-than-lucrative work.

I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t have two books or two daughters or two dollars to my name if it wasn’t for him and his steady, loving, endlessly patient belief in me. Thank you, honey.

And while we’re at it, my daughters (to whom I dedicated my first book) are also pretty darn true blue.
They put up with my ups and downs and distractions and they cheer me on like my own booster squad — at ages when I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be completely self-involved. Plus, they inspire me everyday in their own boundless creative energy and confidence.

Speaking of which, here’s my Tall One’s depiction of Marla’s gorgeous cover: 
(Click on it to see it in all its glory…)

Sigh…
I am lucky and grateful beyond measure.

And I’ll bet you are, too, so don’t forget to enter my drawing for a signed copy of All the World by leaving a comment here or on facebook or via email. Really, cross fingers, knock wood, you’re the winner! I know you are!!