Melissa Wiley's Blog, page 146
February 13, 2011
Guess How Much I Love You, the Rilla Version
Me: I love you so much—
Rilla: That an elephant could pop out of your ear?
Me: Exactly! How did you know??
Rilla: Just lucky, I guess.
February 11, 2011
Poetry Friday: Adazzle, Dim
Well, here it is Friday already, and I didn't get that twenty-five miles of caged birds poem of mine typed up yet. Another Friday, then.
This morning the girls and I tried to read a bit of Gerard Manley Hopkins—a special favorite of mine; he won the heart of this freckled girl with "Pied Beauty" long ago—but we had already had a rather long read-aloud session which had exhausted the patience of my toddler, whose wooden animals began mysteriously to leap out of his fists and hurl themselves across the room.
Hopkins never had to contend with flying zebras.
He'd have seen the beauty in them, though, if he had.
Pied Beauty
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
This week's Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by the wonderful Carol Rasco from RIF.
February 8, 2011
Logical
Huck came down the narrow hallway pushing a heavy chair with considerable difficulty and maneuvered it around a corner toward one of the living-room bookcases.
The bookcase in question contains a number of breakable trinkets, not to mention a conspicuous pair of binoculars. Feeling this warranted a discreet inquiry, I asked him: "What are you trying to get?"
"Up!" he replied.
February 7, 2011
Snippets
No "Recently Read to Rilla" post this week because almost all of her recent choices were books I've already written about—or else classics like CAPS FOR SALE or THE BERENSTAIN BEARS AND THE SPOOKY OLD TREE. (A perfectly written early reader, by the way. Masterful in its simplicity and sense of fun. Beginning readers are doggone hard to write: every syllable must count.)
An addendum to last week's notes on THE COW LOVES COOKIES: when she found out it had gone back to the library, she burst into tears. So, yeah, I guess you could say she liked it.
Speaking of high praise, have you seen this delightful review of the uberdelightful SHARK VS TRAIN? I mean, Shark Bersuz Train.
(You know how much we adore that book.)
I'm a little annoyed that I keep forgetting to scoop our funny kid-quips from Twitter and tuck them away here for safekeeping. Recent lines I do not wish to forget:
Overheard: "Today I am a guinea pig named Primrose."
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I'm sitting with my feet up. Rilla climbs onto my legs, sighs wistfully: "I wish I could hang upside down from you like a Chihuahua."
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A sentence you don't hear every day: "Mommy, do we have a narwhal?"
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I'm pretty sure I am hearing Scott explain the rules of Fight Club to the two-year-old.
February 3, 2011
A Poetry Friday Post Lacking an Actual Poem
OK, so every week as Poetry Friday approaches, I think: I should tell the caged birds story. But I never get around to it, because the story pretty much begs the posting of the poems the story is about. Which means I'd need to canvas my grad-school chums to see if any of them would let me share their poems-from-the- story here (if they can even find copies); and my own poem- from-the-story is about a mile long, and that's a lot of typing.
Plus it's always a bit agonizing to copy out a piece of your own writing, especially one from long ago—you keep finding things you'd like to tinker with, improve, polish up. At least, I do.
AND YET. It's a great poetry story. So I'm going to tell it after all, and then maybe later I can ask some of my classmates for permission to share their poems, and maybe I'll dig up my own poem-from-the-story for a future Poetry Friday.
So all right, one night during grad school (this was at UNC-Greensboro), a bunch of us MFA students were at a party together. Music, laughter, merriment. One of the poets—I think it was Susan Collings, or maybe it was Elizabeth Leigh Palmer? (now Hadaway)—was telling us about Moses Cone, 19th-century philanthropist, entrepreneur, and prominent citizen of Greensboro. One year, it seems, Moses gave his wife the rather remarkable present of twenty-five miles of carriage roads.
That's what Susan (or Leigh) said, but one of the fiction writers got an intensely puzzled look on her face and said, "He gave her twenty-five miles of caged birds?"
We all laughed, but we were struck, too, by the image. Twenty-five miles of caged birds. For a moment we all fell silent, picturing it, I think, or savoring the magic of the strange phrase.
"It's like something from a poem," one of us said. And an idea seized us, a kind of game, a quiet joke we could play on our workshop professor, the brilliant Alan Shapiro. We would each write a poem that included the line "twenty-five miles of caged birds." And we would all turn them in for workshop the next week, without saying anything about the exercise: we'd let Alan discover the repeated phrase as he read through the poems.
Well, we all went home and did exactly that. There were around ten of us in the workshop. Each of us wrote a poem, working the caged-birds phrase in somewhere, and turned them in for the next class's discussion. Mine was, as I have mentioned, quite long: it was a framed story about a girl recalling a fairy tale her grandfather had once told to her mother, a variation on Hans Christian Andersen's "The Nightingale." The girl actually hears the story from her aunt, not her mother, and that's part of the tension of the piece. In the grandfather's version of the tale, the Emperor, having fallen in love with the exquisite song of the nightingale in his vast garden, orders up a hundred replicas in bronze, mechanical birds who sing mechanical songs, placed
"…at intervals in the garden from sea to palace:
twenty-five miles of caged birds and belled orchids."
The morning of our workshop I was making photocopies in the writing program office when in ran Alan Shapiro. Alan is a dignified and serious person, not prone to running in excitement, but in this moment, he was both running and excited. He had read the first three or four poems and had been so struck by them that he just had to come share the moment with someone. Our program director, Jim Clark, was there, and I don't remember if we had filled him in on the joke or not, but I remember his eyes twinkling as Alan explained his excitement. He'd read the first poem, and an odd line, the caged birds thing, had jumped out at him as a curious turn of phrase. In that first poem, he wasn't sure to make of it, but in the next one—I remember he said this one was by Mary Elder, who wrote beautifully spare verses full of startling images—there was the same odd phrase, used in such a way that he decided it must be a figure of speech he was somehow unfamiliar with.
He described reading the next poem, and there it was again, and by now he was wondering what was up. And then he hit my poem, the fairy tale—and he thought, Oh! This must be the origin of the idiom! "Twenty-five miles of caged birds," this peculiar figure of speech he'd never heard before, must have originated in the Andersen tale my poem reinterpreted.
As you can imagine, this tickled me no end, especially since the miles of mechanical birds were my own twist; in Andersen's story there is the single artificial bird brought into the palace to outshine the real nightingale.
Well, Alan went back and read the rest of the batch of poems, and it didn't take long before he realized he'd been pranked. We all howled like crazy at his recounting of events in workshop that afternoon. Our joke had come off even better than we hoped.
But the best part, really, was hearing all the poems—all so incredibly different, carrying the peculiar words into contexts that were oceans apart from each other. As fine a story as Moses Cone's gift of carriage roads is—how delighted his wife must have been!—it was nothing compared to the distance traveled and the worlds conjured by those caged birds.
This week's Poetry Friday roundup can be found at Dori Reads, about twenty-five miles down Caged Birds Road.
February 2, 2011
Apparently
…I can either write a new post, or I can comment on the previous one, but I can't do both. Not in the same night. Thus the crickets here at the top of the page.
Chirp chirp chirp.
January 31, 2011
Downton Abbey Open Thread
It's that time again…and the last time for a while, sadly. What did you think of the season finale? Lots of cliffhanger plotlines. Suspense makes me grumpy.
Spoilers in the comments.
January 30, 2011
Recently Read to Rilla
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The Mole Sisters and the Rainy Day by Roslyn Schwartz
I heard about the Mole Sisters at the Greenwillow blog a while back and thought it sounded like something Rilla would love. I was right. What a sweet little book: lovely small trim size, so appealing to preschoolers; soft, charming illustrations; and a simple storyline with minimal text—this can double as an early reader—that has delighted my young miss. We'll have to look for more Mole Sisters adventures.
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The Elephant's Child by Rudyard Kipling
This isn't the edition we read—I'm reading out of an illustrated Just So Stories—but each story gets lingered over and talked about so thoroughly that each one seems to warrant its own entry here. This one was a particular hit with Rilla: all those unfathomable spankings, and the satisfying turnabout at the end. We also read "How the Leopard Got Its Spots" but she talked all the way through that one, more interested in questions (which is fine!) than the story itself.
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Cybils fiction picture book finalist. Jiminy crickets, what art! Amazing expressions on the kids, especially when they're running in terror from the T Rex…Rilla and Wonderboy were transfixed by this one. The magic of chalk that brings drawings to life, the dramatic turn of events, the clever solution. A wordless story, which is something Rilla always enjoys.
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The Cow Loves Cookies by Karma Wilson
Cybils fiction picture book finalist. Silly, funny, sweet. Very satisfying for Rilla and Wonderboy. A rollicking rhymed text that isn't torture to read, and the joke at the end went over big.
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The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher by Molly Bang
All my little ones have been attached to this book at a certain age. Rilla's turn now, it seems. Had to 'read' it to her three times today. Well, the third time she was telling it to me. Always makes me crave berries and cream.
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A taste of icy northern winter for my little California girl. The tone of this book, as the tomten makes his rounds of the farm at night, is as hushed and glittering as its own snowy fields.
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Sheep in a Jeep by Nancy E. Shaw
As funny now as when I read it to Jane fourteen years ago. Rilla is at the point where she can read this one to me, which makes it even better.
Sunday Links
• Meyer Lemon Bundt with Lemon Curd Filling – Tasty Kitchen
Via A Quiet Spot—jiminy crickets, I shall have no peace until I try this.
• Ultraviolet light reveals how ancient Greek statues really looked
• librarians are awesome – WWdN: In Exile
"On that day, the library was transformed from a confusing and intimidating collection of books into a thousand different portals through time and space to fantastic worlds for me to explore. I don't remember her name, but I do remember that she was in her fifties, wore epic 1970s polyester pantsuits, huge glasses that hung from a long gold chain around her neck, and had a hairdo that was ten miles high. She was friendly and helpful, and when she reached out to that nerdy little kid, she changed his life. If you're a librarian today, you probably don't hear this very often, but thank you. Thank you for making a difference in people's lives."
• Carolrhoda Books Blog: Publishers sell ice . . .
Andrew Karre is right: this is well worth the time to watch. Fascinating & thought-provoking look at the future of libraries & ebooks.
An app recommendation; sounds like one to check out.
• pages turned: A progression for newbies to Rebecca West
• In the Schoolroom – as cozy as spring
Valentine craft to maybe try?
Posted from Diigo . The rest of my favorite links are here .
