Category: Books

30 Day Book Challenge, Books

Day 9: Book that Made You Sick

The Hot Zone by Richard Preston

If you ever saw the movie Outbreak I believe it was based on this book.  This non-fiction account of an Ebola breakout in North America opens with a man puking up thick black blood clots on a plane.

Yes.  Gross.

I didn’t think I would actually enjoy this book, such subjects are usually of little interest to me, and as I often read before bed, I’m not especially keen on pre-dream images of nastiness.

John actually recommended this book within the first three days of knowing me.  As my trainer at Eckerd, he suggested that reading to kids before bed was one of the best ways to establish a good night time culture (he was right) and that every camp kid loves this book (he was right again).

I pretty much did everything John told me to do that year of life in delinquent ridden woods and I credit every ounce of my success to his advice and support.  (I’m sure he does the same for me, currently.)

Anyway, this was a gross book, but I ended up enjoying it.  This is probably due to the reaction of ten teenage boys who were going on six week stretches of no connection to the outside world.  They ate this book up.

Other books that typically “make me sick” the first time I read them are most books having to do with WW1 or WW2.  Included in this list are Night and All Quiet on the Western Front.  I can say after teaching both, multiple times, I am now over that feeling I initially got in the pit of my stomach at the descriptions of carnage and death (which, in both, is mild and very well done, on a literary level), but generally speaking, I’m not a big fan of reading about the same stuff that I can’t watch on TV.

Books

Book that Scares You

Day 8:

The Attachment Parenting Book by William and Martha Sears

Bracing myself for backlash, argument, possibly even anger.

For the record, let me say that I have not actually read this book and I probably never will.  The concept of “Attachment Parenting” as a parenting philosophy, by itself, isn’t what scares me.  In fact, of the eight principles which define it, there are actually a couple I agree with.

The book itself isn’t scary.  The ideas presented in the book are not, at face value, terribly unhealthy.  What scares me is the growing group of extremist attachment parents, who cite this book (and many others, like it) almost scripturally, as the foundation for their non-confrontational style of parenting.  What I’m seeing, through observation and experience, is households where the line between grown up and child does not exist.  Households where the children are in complete control, of everything, from eating and sleeping schedule, to food choice, to who’s in charge.  What I see is tired mothers.  Physically and emotionally worn out women, who wake up every morning wondering if today will be a good day or a bad day, as if such a concept is completely out of their control.  Many of these mothers have put their own lives on hold because they cannot perform simple tasks, like showering or grocery shopping, if their children are awake.

Simply put, Attachment Parenting, taken to an extreme, has taken the authority and control out of the hands of moms and dads and put it in the children.

People.  This is scary.

I subscribe to the parenting philosophy that it is my job to provide physical, emotional, and yes, dare I say it, schedule boundaries for my children.  I do not believe my child instinctively knows what is best and healthiest for her (trust me, both my kids would pick candy and TV over every other option, including a lifetime of unconditional love, if the choice presented itself).  I believe there is an age when it is actually counter-productive and unhealthy to immediately respond to crying.  And, I admit, my marriage would severely suffer if John and I shared our bed with our daughters.  But that’s just me.

When my daughters were infants (and even a little older), I even adhered to many of the eight basic principles of Attachment Parenting.  This is pretty obvious, infants can’t do anything for themselves, except suck, and many of them come out having trouble with that.  What I’m seeing is an increase in mothers who, by the time their children are three…four…nine years old, complain of “control issues,” “constant temper tantrums,” “he won’t eat anything but cheese,” or “bedtime is a nightmare,” and the resounding battle cry, for all of them, is, “Please tell me it’s just a phase, and this too shall pass!”

There has to be balance.  And boundaries.

Dear mothers: do you let your friends hit you in the face when they are angry?  Do you let your husband yell over you when you are trying to have a conversation with another adult?  Then why do you let your three year olds do this?  Will you continue to rock him to sleep, or, sleep on the floor of his room when he is in high school because it soothes him?  Then why do it for your five year old?

As a high school teacher who might be back in the classroom about the time most of these preschool kids are 9th graders, this scares me.  I believe that Attachment Parenting, in the wrong hands, will raise a generation of adults who are unable to think and act independently, let alone make decisions that take into consideration their place in society as a whole.

I know for a fact that I have offended someone today.  As a quick disclaimer, I want to say this: Attachment Parenting is not for me.  Maybe it is the best choice for some.  Perhaps, as with Mother Theresa, when patience and love overflow at a sainthood level, Attachment Parenting can work at an exclusive level.  I even believe that it is possible for children of prudent attachment parents to turn out well-adjusted, well-behaved, and generally pleasant to be around.  I’m just skeptical of extremes, and even more skeptical of parenting trends that come with their own support groups.

30 Day Book Challenge, Books, Not-Irrational Fear, Other People, Parenting

Book 8: Book that Scares You

The Attachment Parenting Book by William and Martha Sears

Bracing myself for backlash, argument, possibly even anger.

For the record, let me say that I have not actually read this book and I probably never will.  The concept of “Attachment Parenting” as a parenting philosophy, by itself, isn’t what scares me.  In fact, of the eight principles which define it, there are actually a couple I agree with.

The book itself isn’t scary.  The ideas presented in the book are not, at face value, terribly unhealthy.  What scares me is the growing group of extremist attachment parents, who cite this book (and many others, like it) almost scripturally, as the foundation for their non-confrontational style of parenting.  What I’m seeing, through observation and experience, is households where the line between grown up and child does not exist.  Households where the children are in complete control, of everything, from eating and sleeping schedule, to food choice, to who’s in charge.  What I see is tired mothers.  Physically and emotionally worn out women, who wake up every morning wondering if today will be a good day or a bad day, as if such a concept is completely out of their control.  Many of these mothers have put their own lives on hold because they cannot perform simple tasks, like showering or grocery shopping, if their children are awake.

Simply put, Attachment Parenting, taken to an extreme, has taken the authority and control out of the hands of moms and dads and put it in the children.

People.  This is scary.

I subscribe to the parenting philosophy that it is my job to provide physical, emotional, and yes, dare I say it, schedule boundaries for my children.  I do not believe my child instinctively knows what is best and healthiest for her (trust me, both my kids would pick candy and TV over every other option, including a lifetime of unconditional love, if the choice presented itself).  I believe there is an age when it is actually counter-productive and unhealthy to immediately respond to crying.  And, I admit, my marriage would severely suffer if John and I shared our bed with our daughters.  But that’s just me.

When my daughters were infants (and even a little older), I even adhered to many of the eight basic principles of Attachment Parenting.  This is pretty obvious, infants can’t do anything for themselves, except suck, and many of them come out having trouble with that.  What I’m seeing is an increase in mothers who, by the time their children are three…four…nine years old, complain of “control issues,” “constant temper tantrums,” “he won’t eat anything but cheese,” or “bedtime is a nightmare,” and the resounding battle cry, for all of them, is, “Please tell me it’s just a phase, and this too shall pass!”

There has to be balance.  And boundaries.

Dear mothers: do you let your friends hit you in the face when they are angry?  Do you let your husband yell over you when you are trying to have a conversation with another adult?  Then why do you let your three year olds do this?  Will you continue to rock him to sleep, or, sleep on the floor of his room when he is in high school because it soothes him?  Then why do it for your five year old?

As a high school teacher who might be back in the classroom about the time most of these preschool kids are 9th graders, this scares me.  I believe that Attachment Parenting, in the wrong hands, will raise a generation of adults who are unable to think and act independently, let alone make decisions that take into consideration their place in society as a whole.

I know for a fact that I have offended someone today.  As a quick disclaimer, I want to say this: Attachment Parenting is not for me.  Maybe it is the best choice for some.  Perhaps, as with Mother Theresa, when patience and love overflow at a sainthood level, Attachment Parenting can work at an exclusive level.  I even believe that it is possible for children of prudent attachment parents to turn out well-adjusted, well-behaved, and generally pleasant to be around.  I’m just skeptical of extremes, and even more skeptical of parenting trends that come with their own support groups.

30 Day Book Challenge, Books

Day 7: Book You Can Quote or Recite

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

I think this one is pretty much a no-brainer.  I have to admit, this is one book I actually saw the movie before reading, and enjoy both, almost equally.

The book has all the goodness of the movie, only more of it.  Most of the dialogue in the movie is left intact, as far as I could tell (and remember).  This is one of my favorite books to read out loud, and I have done so for a couple of classes and two groups in the woods, who love that I do the voices, because I can, awesomely.  Obviously.

 

Books

Book You Can Quote or Recite

Day 7:

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

I think this one is pretty much a no-brainer.  I have to admit, this is one book I actually saw the movie before reading, and enjoy both, almost equally.

The book has all the goodness of the movie, only more of it.  Most of the dialogue in the movie is left intact, as far as I could tell (and remember).  This is one of my favorite books to read out loud, and I have done so for a couple of classes and two groups in the woods, who love that I do the voices, because I can, awesomely.  Obviously.

 

30 Day Book Challenge, Books

Day 6: Favorite Series

The Sleepover Friends by Susan Saunders

I’m taking liberties with the original list and swapping boring or redundant categories with ones that I can actually come up with an entertaining answer for.  I can do this because I am a teacher, and bending stupid rules for better rules is one thing I do very well.

First of all, let me say, I think series books are really great for elementary school and junior high, but part of me believes that people who are still into series books in high school (and beyond) are not true literary snobs.  Likewise, I haven’t met an adult-series author I could take seriously.  On principle, series books are a bit of a cop out to me.  Granted, for many, they are a very lucrative cop out, especially when one story turns into twelve and each book successively outsells the former, but for the most part, series books eventually just turn into more of the same stuff.  If I pick one up and actually enjoy the first book, I generally make it half way through book #3 before I get bored.  This seems to be my trend.

Here are some series I started but didn’t (couldn’t) finish: Left Behind, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Twilight, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Chronicles of Narnia (though, truthfully, it is a goal to finish these), Ender’s Game (yes it is a series and yes, a new one just came out, and yes, I’m still stuck in the middle of the third book), The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and The Babysitter’s Club.  Likely, there are others.

The Sleepover Friends by Susan Saunders is the one exception, and in all likelihood, this is due to the fact that I read them in 2nd and 3rd grade.  A bit of peer pressure was certainly involved, as I was in constant competition with my friend Lena Pande, an Indian, dot not feather, who skipped 1st grade.  We read all the same books (she was always at least three ahead of me), raced through our SRA’s together, talked about crushes from our two favorite Disney Channel shows (Kids, Inc. and The Mickey Mouse Club), had sleepovers complete with karaoke, and dotted all our i’s with Mickey Mouse heads, pretending like everything we did was an application for acceptance into the Club.  It wouldn’t surprise me if Lena is currently a brain surgeon or a college professor.  She was definitely smarter than me, and in my unspoken academic race with this girl who was a year younger, I think she was never aware of my panting and sweating, five steps behind her, as she skipped to the finish line with an ice-cream cone in one hand.

Because of Lena (or in spite of her), I did read every single Sleepover Friends book that was published before 1990.  The summer before 4th grade my family moved from Mississippi to Washington State and I stopped checking in on the adventures of Kate, Stephanie (who I still remember every time I wear red, black, and white), Patti, and Lauren, the narrator and character I pretended to be.

From what I can tell through other adult reviews, though a childhood favorite, re-reading these books would only disappoint me and put a gray tinge on what is currently a very vivid childhood pastime.  So I probably won’t even consciously introduce them to Eliott or Carter one day.

Books

Favorite Series

Day 6:

The Sleepover Friends by Susan Saunders

I’m taking liberties with the original list and swapping boring or redundant categories with ones that I can actually come up with an entertaining answer for.  I can do this because I am a teacher, and bending stupid rules for better rules is one thing I do very well.

First of all, let me say, I think series books are really great for elementary school and junior high, but part of me believes that people who are still into series books in high school (and beyond) are not true literary snobs.  Likewise, I haven’t met an adult-series author I could take seriously.  On principle, series books are a bit of a cop out to me.  Granted, for many, they are a very lucrative cop out, especially when one story turns into twelve and each book successively outsells the former, but for the most part, series books eventually just turn into more of the same stuff.  If I pick one up and actually enjoy the first book, I generally make it half way through book #3 before I get bored.  This seems to be my trend.

Here are some series I started but didn’t (couldn’t) finish: Left Behind, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Twilight, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Chronicles of Narnia (though, truthfully, it is a goal to finish these), Ender’s Game (yes it is a series and yes, a new one just came out, and yes, I’m still stuck in the middle of the third book), The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and The Babysitter’s Club.  Likely, there are others.

The Sleepover Friends by Susan Saunders is the one exception, and in all likelihood, this is due to the fact that I read them in 2nd and 3rd grade.  A bit of peer pressure was certainly involved, as I was in constant competition with my friend Lena Pande, an Indian, dot not feather, who skipped 1st grade.  We read all the same books (she was always at least three ahead of me), raced through our SRA’s together, talked about crushes from our two favorite Disney Channel shows (Kids, Inc. and The Mickey Mouse Club), had sleepovers complete with karaoke, and dotted all our i’s with Mickey Mouse heads, pretending like everything we did was an application for acceptance into the Club.  It wouldn’t surprise me if Lena is currently a brain surgeon or a college professor.  She was definitely smarter than me, and in my unspoken academic race with this girl who was a year younger, I think she was never aware of my panting and sweating, five steps behind her, as she skipped to the finish line with an ice-cream cone in one hand.

Because of Lena (or in spite of her), I did read every single Sleepover Friends book that was published before 1990.  The summer before 4th grade my family moved from Mississippi to Washington State and I stopped checking in on the adventures of Kate, Stephanie (who I still remember every time I wear red, black, and white), Patti, and Lauren, the narrator and character I pretended to be.

From what I can tell through other adult reviews, though a childhood favorite, re-reading these books would only disappoint me and put a gray tinge on what is currently a very vivid childhood pastime.  So I probably won’t even consciously introduce them to Eliott or Carter one day.

30 Day Book Challenge, Books, Food, Garden

Day 5: Book You Wish You Could Live In

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

I didn’t actually read this book.  It was one of the many audio books I listened to on my half-hour commute to and from work for three years.  I think it would have been a more academic read if I’d actually had the book in hand, because it is a one-year chronicle of Barbara Kingsolver and her family (writer Steven Hopp and two daughters) living as “locavores.”  Though my very infantile gardening habit currently pales in comparison to the things that Kingsolver journalistically records in this book, every once in a while I think I might attempt to expand my garden and have considered purchasing and using this book as a resource.

Essentially, they move to a farm in Virginia, and vow to only eat food that has been grown or raised within fifty miles.  They allow themselves one “luxury item” each (coffee, hot chocolate, dried fruit, and spices) and bring a few things like olive oil and certain grains which are obviously from out-of-town.  In addition to their own vast garden, they raise chickens, shop at local farmer’s markets, and trade with neighbors.  They bake their own bread, clean and eat their own turkeys and roosters, and at one point, Kingsolver begins making her own cheese, which turns into a Friday night homemade pizza tradition.

Essentially, the book reads like a personal journal slash farmer’s almanac slash foodie magazine.  It is organized chronologically and provides tons of information on growing crops, raising animals, and preparing and preserving food.  Kingsolver’s voice is periodically interrupted by short essays from Steven or one of her daughters, which provide recipes along with commentary on controversies like CAFO’s.  I loved it.

It is funny, because my husband grew up on the farm that has been in his family for four generations.  Though his experience was not one of “living off the land” in the extreme way Kingsolver describes, he can remember the rows and rows of canning jars, filled with sweet corn, pears, green beans, and homemade spaghetti sauce.  He’s talked of the dirtiest farm animals in the world (chickens), riding motorcycles at age five, making forts in the rafters of the barn, and Tony the Pony.  But then, every time I mention how fun and healthy it would be to have some land and a huge garden and animals (and eggs!) he reminds me that the life of a farmer is anything but stress-free.

In many ways, this book was like reading a real-life and modern version of Little House on the Prairie.  There is something primitive and instinctual (and probably Biblical) about the desire to grow food.  I would not consider this book a lighthearted or entertaining read, sometimes it was painfully slow.  But it was informative and interesting, and at the time, it helped me escape the condo-life I was living.  I imagined, for a little while, days full of sun and free of social media.

Books

Book You Wish You Could Live In

Day 5:

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

I didn’t actually read this book.  It was one of the many audio books I listened to on my half-hour commute to and from work for three years.  I think it would have been a more academic read if I’d actually had the book in hand, because it is a one-year chronicle of Barbara Kingsolver and her family (writer Steven Hopp and two daughters) living as “locavores.”  Though my very infantile gardening habit currently pales in comparison to the things that Kingsolver journalistically records in this book, every once in a while I think I might attempt to expand my garden and have considered purchasing and using this book as a resource.

Essentially, they move to a farm in Virginia, and vow to only eat food that has been grown or raised within fifty miles.  They allow themselves one “luxury item” each (coffee, hot chocolate, dried fruit, and spices) and bring a few things like olive oil and certain grains which are obviously from out-of-town.  In addition to their own vast garden, they raise chickens, shop at local farmer’s markets, and trade with neighbors.  They bake their own bread, clean and eat their own turkeys and roosters, and at one point, Kingsolver begins making her own cheese, which turns into a Friday night homemade pizza tradition.

Essentially, the book reads like a personal journal slash farmer’s almanac slash foodie magazine.  It is organized chronologically and provides tons of information on growing crops, raising animals, and preparing and preserving food.  Kingsolver’s voice is periodically interrupted by short essays from Steven or one of her daughters, which provide recipes along with commentary on controversies like CAFO’s.  I loved it.

It is funny, because my husband grew up on the farm that has been in his family for four generations.  Though his experience was not one of “living off the land” in the extreme way Kingsolver describes, he can remember the rows and rows of canning jars, filled with sweet corn, pears, green beans, and homemade spaghetti sauce.  He’s talked of the dirtiest farm animals in the world (chickens), riding motorcycles at age five, making forts in the rafters of the barn, and Tony the Pony.  But then, every time I mention how fun and healthy it would be to have some land and a huge garden and animals (and eggs!) he reminds me that the life of a farmer is anything but stress-free.

In many ways, this book was like reading a real-life and modern version of Little House on the Prairie.  There is something primitive and instinctual (and probably Biblical) about the desire to grow food.  I would not consider this book a lighthearted or entertaining read, sometimes it was painfully slow.  But it was informative and interesting, and at the time, it helped me escape the condo-life I was living.  I imagined, for a little while, days full of sun and free of social media.

30 Day Book Challenge, Before Bed, Books, Christmas, Parenting

Day 4: Book that Makes You Cry

I cannot remember the last time I watched a movie that didn’t make me cry.  It is a weakness I’ve always had.  But ever since giving birth to my first child (exactly five years ago today), the water works button on the back of my eyeballs has become overly sensitive.  I find myself getting teared up at non-Hallmark commercials and shows like The Biggest Loser or more recently, The Voice.

So of course my new-found trigger-happy emotional gun does not exclude things like books.  Weirdly, I can remember the first book that made me cry.  It was Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, in 7th grade.  (This makes two mentions of my 7th grade English teacher’s influence on my reading addiction.)  I only recently admitted that I had a real problem though, when I found myself finishing Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand and crying on a stationary bike in the middle of the fitness room at a very crowded YMCA.

Pathetic.

This story, The Tale of Three Trees, is my favorite Christmas story.  I’m sure I heard it as a child in Sunday school or perhaps at summer camp, but ran across a paperback version at the Scholastic Book Fair one year in college, and started reading it every Christmas season to whoever would listen.

No matter how many times I’ve read this book (nor to whom) I always get choked up at the very same line…And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world…  (No lie, tears in my eyes right now even as I type it.)  Even knowing the line is coming up isn’t enough to emotionally prepare myself to hold it together.  Two years ago I read the story in both Christmas Eve services at church and cried both times.  (To my credit, the entire congregation cried too, and it was nothing short of magical.)

If you have children and you do not own this book, drop everything immediately and purchase it.