Lyrical Baby

Ickie and I are fans of Candlewick Press. They put out unique children's books, such as A Visitor for Bear, which we gave to our niece last year. The hospital where Ben was born gave us several children's books, and one of them, also by Candlewick Press, is Here's a Little Poem, which we've enjoyed reading to Ben on recent evenings. This collection features sweet, quirky poems by Langston Hughes, Robert Louis Stevenson, and A.A. Milne as well as other less famous poets. I especially love the dreamy illustrations for the bedtime poems. Here is my current favorite:

Manhattan Lullaby

by Norma Farber

Lulled by rumble, babble beep,
let these little children sleep;
let these city girls and boys
dream a music in the noise,
hear a tune their city plucks
up from buses, up from trucks
up from engines wailing fire!
up ten stories high, and higher,
up from hammers, rivets, drills,
up tall buildings, over sills,
up where city children sleep,
lulled by rumble, babble, beep.

The Best Biscuits

When it's below zero and blizzarding (don't laugh, we've had plenty of that this year), I need comfort food. It's not just to make me feel better about being stuck indoors; I need calories for survival. Bring on the fat and bring on the biscuits! Any good Southerner will tell you that the best comfort food is her grandmother's biscuits, but a true southern grandma's biscuit methods are shrouded in mystery. She can toss in flour, scoop up lard with her fingers at random, and pour in buttermilk without measuring. Grandma cannot convey how this heap of dough transforms into fluffy, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth divinity, and my mom has complained that when she does the same the results are bland, white rocks.

My dear grandma hasn't baked her biscuits in years, but I still remember when she came to take care of us when I was in sixth grade while my parents were away. When we got home from school in the afternoon she had a full supper of biscuits, meat, and veg hot and waiting. I never hope to recreate her masterpieces, but I did recreate a reasonable facsimile by following this recipe from Southern Living. I substituted all-purpose flour with baking powder and salt, but otherwise I followed the folding directions precisely. Scarfing one down hot out of the oven, Ickie pronounced them the best he's ever had.

Scarred for Life

On a recent visit, my friend JW recommended Blindness by Jose Saramago. Saramago won a Nobel Prize for this novel, and although it's an impressive achievement, it's as desperate as anything you can imagine.

A sudden and unexplained epidemic of white blindness infects the population. The story follows the small group who are the first to go blind and are interned in a dilapidated mental asylum. Like many of the epidemic/apocalyptic stories I've read lately, this one explores human nature, be it compassionate or degenerate. Saramago's run-on sentences, minimal punctuation (dialogue jumbles together), and unnamed characters convey well the chaos and confusion of the epidemic.

Like other stories in this vein, survival depends on humanity's basest needs: the search for food, shelter, companionship, and a functioning toilet. (I don't mean to be flippant here; let's just say I have a fresh appreciation for plumbing.) Yet Blindness is not utterly without hope. There are many horrors, but some characters act selflessly, wisely, and honorably.

I was worried before beginning the novel that Saramago would have an obvious agenda or message, but his story is richly enigmatic. Near the end of the novel, two of the main characters make a brief and eloquent suggestion of what the blindness might symbolize, but the reader is left to her own theories. The conclusion snuck up on me: suddenly I turned a page to discover I was at the close, and even after all the horror, this lovely, warm, vague emotion washed over me. I didn't end with any clear insight, I simply experienced beautifully written art.

Befuddled at the Close

I believe endings are hard to write. You can have a great story idea, even an entire excellent novel, but when things come to the end it gets tricky. I often prefer stories that are a bit open-ended, so as to spur continuing thought and debate, as opposed to stories where all the ends tie up neatly and seem a bit forced. But sometimes an ending is just odd. In this case I'm referring to the finale of Heroes of the Valley by Jonathan Stroud. Stroud also wrote The Bartimeaus Trilogy; he writes Heroes like Bartimeaus: it's unique, it's witty and dark, and Stroud can really DO creepy. The scene in Westminster Abbey in the second Bartimeaus book is one of the eeriest scenes I've ever read.

Stroud does some good things in Heroes of the Valley. He creates a captivating mythology in an isolated valley reminiscent of medieval Scandinavia. The myths frame every chapter and are incorporated into the story well. There are tunneling-zombie-troll monsters that make my hair stand on end. As soon as the reader is convinced of the truth of these old tales, Stroud introduces cause for doubt, so the reader can hardly predict what will happen next. The characters are interesting yet flawed (as in Bartimeaus, the heroine is far more likable than the hero). But the ending, well, it was weird. I did not like it. I didn't hate it, I just didn't get it at all. It wasn't so much a weak conclusion as a strange one. I can't seem to put into words why it's so problematic. Nevertheless, the book was worth reading.

Bloodsucking Hilarity

Hooray! I found another of Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax stories (no thanks to you readers, who didn't share that information with me). Well, no hard feelings. Carpe Jugulum is a funny spoof of vampires, who are accidentally invited to a royal christening and decide to take over the kingdom with their "modern" ideas of vampirism. It's all very silly and clever, with a kooky Igor, a nerdy priest, and vampires running through castles craving tea instead of blood (how I love British humor). However, as a new mom, I especially enjoyed the following passage in which new mother Magrat packs up the baby's things for an emergency outing:

"When she looked up her face was set with purpose. She pointed at Oats.

'You find a bag or something and empty into it all the stuff in the top drawer over there, and take the potty, and the little truck, oh, and the stuffed animals, and the bag of nappies, and the bag for used nappies, and the bath, and the bag with the towels, and the box of toys, and the wind-up things, and the musical box, and the bag with the little suits, oh, and the woolly hat, and you, Agnes, find something we can make into a sling....'

There was a clatter from the direction of Mightily Oats. He already had both arms full, and a large stuffed rabbit in his teeth.

'Do we need all of that?" said Agnes.

'You never know,' said Magrat.

'Even the box of toys?'

'[Her father] thinks she might be an early developer,' said Magrat.

'She's only a couple of weeks old!'

'Yes, but stimulus at an early age is vital to the development of the growing brain,' said Magrat, laying baby Esme on the table and shuffling her into a romper suit. 'Also, we have to get on top of her hand-eye coordination as soon as possible. It's no good just letting things slide. Oh yes...If you can bring the little slide, too. And the yellow rubber duck. And the sponge in the shape of a teddy bear. And the teddy bear in the shape of a sponge.'"

Familiar Characters

I'm a little disappointed because I've now read all of Terry Pratchett's novels featuring Granny Weatherwax. Oddly enough, I read last the first book in which she appears: Equal Rites. Although her character is somewhat better developed in later novels, this one's plot is very fun, especially watching Granny go up against the snobbish, sexist wizards at Unseen University when they refuse to admit Granny's young apprentice, Eskarina. I'm always sorry when I complete a series I've enjoyed and there aren't any additional stories with these characters (at least as far as I know), but I'd happily reread any of these, especially Wyrd Sisters.

In other news, Ickie has begun reading a Winnie the Pooh story to Ben and I each evening. We gave Ben a Winnie the Pooh treasury for Christmas, and I had forgotten how darling and quietly amusing A.A. Milne's little characters are. Of course, my favorite bits are the illustrations by Ernest Shepard. I adore his sketchy pen and ink drawings in Kenneth Graham's novels and refuse to read any editions with "updated" (i.e., ruined) pictures of Toad, Rat, Mole, and the lot.

Legendary Troublemakers

I just finished Witches Abroad, another fun Terry Pratchett novel featuring Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat Garlick. This one played on several fairy tales (including a brief cameo by Gollum). It was creative and fun, although I slightly prefer the witch stories that are versions of Shakespearean plays. I'm currently reading Equal Rites, Pratchett's first book in which Granny appears. She's a really wonderful curmudgeon.

Prior to Witches Abroad, I read Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. In it, the Greek gods are living in somewhat reduced circumstances in London and, as the title aptly puts it, behaving very badly indeed. Actually, Artemis is the only really reasonable member of the quarrelsome family. All the gods (except Artemis, goddess of chastity, and Eros, who has converted to Christianity) are sleeping with each other or causing trouble, so several chapters are fairly vulgar. By contrast, Alice and Neil are two mortals interested in Scrabble, tidiness, and each other, but who are too timid, wholesome, and polite to make it work. Alice and Neil are especially likeable when contrasted with the likes of the Apollo and Aprodite. The plot stays true to the classic formula, the gods playing tricks and getting even with each other, and of course a hero with a quest and a bit of immortal assistance. It was a well-formed story and a fun read.