Kirsti Call




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Kirsti Call

Goodreads Author


born
in Chicago, The United States
gender
female

website

genre

member since
February 2008


About this author

Kirsti Call loves writing, reading, singing and playing with her five kids. You can find her book, The Raindrop Who Couldn't Fall, at Character Publishing.

http://www.characterpublishing.org/st...

Here's a book trailer! http://youtu.be/ILoU8KRTjRM


I recentlyreviewed You Nest Here With Me , byJane Yolenand her daughter,Heidi E Y Stemple.The book is brilliant on several levels. It’s a bedtime book that teaches about birds. It’s bird book that emphasizes the bond between mother and child. It’s a work of art to be studied and re-read and loved.
Jane Yolen books make my heart sing. So spending four days with Jane last month for herPicture... Read more of this blog post »
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Published on April 15, 2015 08:30 • 1 view
Average rating: 4.71 · 14 ratings · 8 reviews · 1 distinct work · Similar authors
The Raindrop Who Couldn't Fall
4.71 of 5 stars 4.71 avg rating — 14 ratings — published 2013 — 2 editions
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Kirsti Call rated a book 4 of 5 stars
Look! by Jeff Mack
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Have You Seen My Monster? by Steve Light
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The Big Blue Thing on the Hill by Yuval Zommer
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Bunny Roo, I Love You by Melissa Marr
Bunny Roo, I Love You
by Melissa Marr (Goodreads Author)
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In by Nikki McClure
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A Dog Day by Emily Rand
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I Wish You More by Amy Krouse Rosenthal
I Wish You More
by Amy Krouse Rosenthal (Goodreads Author)
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Finding Winnie by Lindsay Mattick
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Meet the Dullards by Sara Pennypacker
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Unconditional Parenting by Alfie Kohn
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More of Kirsti's books…
Jennifer Egan
“Yet each disappointment Ted felt in his wife, each incremental deflation, was accompanied by a seizure of guilt; many years ago, he had taken the passion he felt for Susan and folded it in half, so he no longer had a drowning, helpless feeling when he glimpsed her beside him in bed: her ropy arms and soft, generous ass. Then he’d folded it in half again, so when he felt desire for Susan, it no longer brought with it an edgy terror of never being satisfied. Then in half again, so that feeling desire entailed no immediate need to act. Then in half again, so he hardly felt it. His desire was so small in the end that Ted could slip it inside his desk or a pocket and forget about it, and this gave him a feeling of safety and accomplishment, of having dismantled a perilous apparatus that might have crushed them both. Susan was baffled at first, then distraught; she’d hit him twice across the face; she’d run from the house in a thunderstorm and slept at a motel; she’d wrestled Ted to the bedroom floor in a pair of black crotchless underpants. But eventually a sort of amnesia had overtaken Susan; her rebellion and hurt had melted away, deliquesced into a sweet, eternal sunniness that was terrible in the way that life would be terrible, Ted supposed, without death to give it gravitas and shape. He’d presumed at first that her relentless cheer was mocking, another phase in her rebellion, until it came to him that Susan had forgotten how things were between them before Ted began to fold up his desire; she’d forgotten and was happy — had never not been happy — and while all of this bolstered his awe at the gymnastic adaptability of the human mind, it also made him feel that his wife had been brainwashed. By him.”
Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

Jennifer Egan
“The pause makes you think the song will end. And then the song isn't really over, so you're relieved. But then the song does actually end, because every song ends, obviously, and THAT. TIME. THE. END. IS. FOR. REAL.”
Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

Jennifer Egan
“I'm always happy," Sasha said. "Sometimes I just forget.”
Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

Jennifer Egan
“The site of his thinking and writing was a small office wedged in one corner of his shaggy house, on whose door he’d installed a lock to keep his sons out. They gathered wistfully outside it, his boys, with their chipped, heartbreaking faces. They were not permitted to so much as knock upon the door to the room in which he thought and wrote about art, but Ted hadn’t found a way to keep them from prowling outside it, ghostly feral creatures drinking from a pond in moonlight, their bare feet digging at the carpet, their fingers sweating on the walls, leaving spoors of grease that Ted would point out each week to Elsa, the cleaning woman. He would sit in his office, listening to the movements of his boys, imagining that he felt their hot, curious breath. I will not let them in, he would tell himself. I will sit and think about art. But he found, to his despair, that often he couldn’t think about art. He thought about nothing at all.”
Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

Jennifer Egan
“I felt no shame in these activities, because I understood what almost no one else seemed to grasp: that there was only an infinitesimal difference, a difference so small that it barely existed except as a figment of the human imagination, between working in a tall green glass building on Park Avenue and collecting litter in a park. In fact, there may have been no difference at all.”
Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

94584 Ask Jodi Picoult - February 27, 2013 — 1729 members — last activity Nov 06, 2014 08:49AM
**Update** Thank you so much for participating in our Ask Jodi chat! Unfortunately Jodi wasn't able to answer all of your amazing questions because th ...more



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message 1: by Holly

Holly Hey Kirsti,

How are you? Hopefully all is well for you and your family. We are all doing great! Are you still in YWs? Anything new and exciting? I look forward to seeing what books you recommend. If I remember right you like to read? Take care.

Holly


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