Once I escaped from an orphanage to find Mum and Dad.

Once I saved a girl called Zelda from a burning house.

Once I made a Nazi with toothache laugh.

My name is Felix.

This is my story.

Everybody deserves to have something good in their life.

At least ONCE.

(The above, from the book, actually taken from Mr. Gleitzman’s personable and delightful website.)

Poland, WWII. A Jewish boy who prays to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Adolph Hitler. All at once. A notebook full of stories. An adventurous heart. A poetic, spare, lyrical narrative. Oh, guys, just a very, very great book.

It reminds me of Spinelli’s remarkable “Milkweed” which cracks the heart wide open, but ONCE tells a smaller story in scope, and leaves the possibility of perfect-ending in the reader’s mind.

* OBSESSION by Traci Abramson. A shivery, shuddery stalker novel written by the coolest lady/former CIA ninja you’ll ever know. A little outside the box for me, and a whole lot of fun.

* PEACE LIKE A RIVER by Leif Enger. I want to get my frequent readers’ card punched. I’ve read this at least five times, and it never, ever gets old. Oh, how I love the outlaws and the miracles and especially-especially Swede. I adore Swede.

* SOLOMON SNOW AND THE SILVER SPOON by Kaye Umansky. (Reread.) This time, I read it to the Kids. It took a while, since there were very few days/evenings that we were all home and not committed to doing something else, but this is a fun Dickensian romp with very funny twists. Please read it with the accents. You’ll be glad you did.

* THE LONESOME GODS by Louis L’Amour. This was my first try at a L’Amour book. It was fun. Truly. A storyteller’s book. Gunfights and desert magic and family ties and lots and lots of horses. Thanks to my Very Dear Friend J for the birthday book.

* MY NAME IS ASHER LEV by Chaim Potok (Is it possible to be a Jewish Mormon? This book SO speaks to my soul.)

* LEAVES OF GRASS by Walt Whitman (I didn’t read it all, but I love it. Love.)

* HOTEL ON THE CORNER OF BITTER AND SWEET by Jamie Ford (If you haven’t, try it. Stick it out for the first 2 chapters. It will be sweet. Also bitter. But mostly sweet.)

* THE KISS OF A STRANGER by Sarah M. Eden (Love this. Love her. Love the parts where I laughed out loud. Lots of parts.)

* SEEKING PERSEPHONE by Sarah M. Eden (Excellent Beauty and the Beast retelling. Love the misunderstandings that Eden writes. Perfect.)

* NOT MY TYPE by Melanie Jacobson (Mel has done it again. Love Pepper and all the Spicers, love Courtney and Co, love the angst and – again – misunderstandings)

* CROSSED by Ally Condie (Shhh. It might be better than MATCHED. You only have to wait another month. Or less. Oh, love. Love. Love.)

It’s about Sense and Sensibility.

For sure, the Emma Thompson/Kate Winslet/Hugh Grant version ranks among my top 5 favorite movies EVER. Ang Lee’s directorness is stunning (even though nobody goes Crouching Tiger in any scene – not that they shouldn’t, because wouldn’t we love to see that in the Willoughby Confrontation scene?) and the deliveries are all seriously perfect.

But, guys, there is another version that I have to love, too. BBC did a version for 2009 and I just watched it last week and I have not stopped thinking about how very, very much I adored it.

Especially Edward. I almost didn’t put this picture in, because it does not do my new Dear Edward justice. He looks a little snarky. A little cocky. But in the film, he just looks completely Edward. Now, let me say again that I love Hugh Grant. And that his cute, bumbling performances are totally endearing to me. His Edward is adorable. But this guy, Dan Stevens (who has no photo at IMDB, whatever) is so charming and completely, fantastically perfect as Edward that I went all Elinor and got a little giddy myself. From his first screen shot. The one where he appears while Elinor is beating a rug (how embarrassing, I know) and smiles right directly into her/my face.

I was smitten. In Smit. Deep Smit.

The movie is long. 3 hours. It was a miniseries. (Yes. They still do that. I checked.) But the extra hour let the filmmakers add in all the parts of the novel that are missing from the Ang Lee version, including Sir John’s insipid wife, John and Fanny’s horrible son (not to mention Fanny’s horrible, horrible hair which I love), and Lucy Steele’s appalling sister Ann. Also the scene where Willoughby comes back. Which I always hated in the novel, because, eeewww. Stay home with your wretched rich wife, will you? Also, Margaret, who gets the shaft in the novel, shines in this version. She’s adorable and far less whiny than the Margaret in the 1995. Whew.

I didn’t think that Marianne’s illness was quite as emotionally devastating in this version, but that may be because of Emma T’s stunning scene where Elinor begs the unconscious Marianne not to leave her, which is MY FAVORITE MOVIE SCENE OF ALL TIME. I may or may not cry with every watching. Oh, and also, the opening scene is the Willoughby’s Seduction of Colonel Brandon’s Ward moment, which might be stylistically lovely, but I would have preferred for it to remain unstated. Just saying.

And so, though I will always love Emma as Elinor, I have to make room for the new S&S in my heart. And on my DVD pile.

* WRITING DOWN THE BONES by Natalie Goldberg. This is one of the few books Husband held on to from his creative writing classes in college. I’ve read it a few times, and I love the hippie vibe with which Ms. Goldberg approaches writing. She regularly quotes Zen masters (or something), who help her get to the guts of her creative process, and the whole book is like sitting in a coffe shop just listening to her talk. That seems like a good way to spend a day. She’s a big proponent of writing with a pen (and yes, I recognize that the book was published in 1986, and she was having Mac fantasies much like my own, except she wanted a box and I want an Air) — but I’ve started writing with pen for some time almost every day, and IT IS AWESOME. Viva la pen. And writing from the heart.

* THE HELP by Kathryn Stockett. Reread. And passed it to Kid 1. Then went and saw the movie with my childhood BFF. Book is excellent. Movie, nearly as good (I think there’s an added sweetness you can get away with in a film, where everyone can turn out more “okay” than they do in the book, just to let us leave the theatre hopeful and full of popcorn). I love this book. I’m sure half the people in the country have read this, so you can trust me, it’s a good read. Strong characters, both the lovable ones and the hate-able ones. I cried (both times I read it) when the congregation gives Skeeter a book. In the movie I cried at different parts. (Not the Ugly Cry.) And was grateful for a scene that was left out of the movie.

* THE FOREST FOR THE TREES: AN EDITOR’S ADVICE TO WRITERS by Betsy Lerner. Was cool. Positive advice. Funny stories. Some strangeness (about how a “real” author needs to slice away all inhibitions, not care who he wounds, yadda yadda) but overall helpful and interesting. Talks about process in a way that is easy to understand, from querying to acceptance to edits to proofs to marketing and all the rest. If you’re looking to publish, you could find it helpful. I did.

*Every ELEPHANT AND PIGGIE book in the public library. By Mo Willems. We eat these up (not literally) [1]. None of my Kids are really picture book readers any more, but we SO LOVE MO. So we occasionally grab them all, for a week, and read out to each other. “Yes. I DO need help!”

And now I’m mid- Alexander McCall Smith. Guys, could you introduce him to me? If you’re friends? I’d really like to hang out with him for a week, eating food (he writes a great deal about food, and I love him for it) and listening to him speak. I love his style and his voice and his irony and his peacefulness and his hilarity. I’ll tell you about the book I’m currently in … in a month. But I’ll also tell you that I started several years ago with the NUMBER ONE LADIES’ DETECTIVE AGENCY and think that you can’t go wrong if you also start there. Then, Netflix the HBO show. Brilliant and gorgeous.

—

[1] Only one of my Kids ever literally ate a book. The Boy. When he was small. Bite by bite he devoured our Very Hungry Caterpillar board book. I have not yet replaced it, but my birthday is coming up here in a couple of weeks, and I might just treat myself to a new copy. It has always been one of my favorites. And the literary irony of the whole experience is not lost on me. And please don’t bother calling Child Welfare. He’s 7 and 3/4 now, so the damage is past. Long past. And he no longer eats paper. Or boards. Only food and foodlike substances.

* THE ADORATION OF JENNA FOX by Mary E. Pearson. This was a “what’s going on here” kind of book — something is not quite right with Jenna. The things she can’t remember are disturbing, but the ones she can (like her baptism at 2 weeks old) may be even more so. This reminded me of Unwind by Shusterman, a bit — similar feeling of someone else being very much in control of your future and your prospects… It was cool and creepy and kind of lovely.

* THE COLOR OF MAGIC by Terry Pratchett. DeNae had two copies, so she gave me one. I know. What a friend. I’d read Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching books and adored them. This was my first dive into Discworld for grownups. Dude can write. Language is brilliant and funny, enviably so. Rincewind and Twoflower. Perfect travel companions. Want to try it? Let me know how it works for you. (But I strongly recommend picking up Wee Free Men. Read it out loud to a clever child and soak up the hilarity.)

* A TALE DARK AND GRIMM by Adam Gidwitz. WOW. Loved this so much that I read it to the kids IN THE CAR. This is a sacrifice beyond normal ranges. I hate reading in the car. Barf. But we had a little road trip, and the book was so good, I had to share it with them. It retells a whole bunch of Brothers Grimm tales, with the boy-and-girl characters as Hansel and Gretel. Gidwitz doesn’t spare the bloody, scary, gruesome parts (he calls them “the awesome parts”) and so we got a real taste for the original Grimm. Serious creepiness. And a brilliant voice.

* MISS PEREGRINE’S SCHOOL FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN by Ransom Riggs. It’s all about the photos, really. The story is fine, but maybe breaks down for me near the end. But the photos. So cool. They’re (claimed to be) un-re-touched (is that a word?) vintage photos of bizarre kids (like the guy with his face covered with bees, and the floating girl, and the kid in the bottle, and the one with the ball of light glowing in her hands) — and the story revolves around the pages and pages of photos. So even if you’re not into the paranormal type story, take a copy off the shelf and look at the photos.

* JELLICOE ROAD by Malina Marchetta. (Re-read) I love this book. It is amazing. I haven’t pushed it into the hands of my kids, because there is some mature stuff in there that I can wait for them to deal with. But oh. Oh, I love this book. The writing is GORGEOUS. Setting, pacing, dialog, dreams, emotion, yearning, anger, concern… It’s not an easy book to read. It requires you to grow through it. And should I say it again? I love it.

* SMALL GODS by Terry Pratchett. So here’s the deal. Gods need someone to believe in them. That’s where they get their power. But what to do when you’re the Big Old God of an entire country, but there’s nobody who really believes? Well, nobody but Brother Brutha, a sweet, dopey gardener. Pratchett makes me laugh out loud. And think about things. And wish I lived in England. Or Discworld. (But not really. You know what they say. It’s a nice place to visit…)

* BIRD IN A BOX by Andrea Davis Pinkney (she’s Jerry’s wife). You know the Russell Crowe movie Cinderella Man? I love that movie. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really liked Renee Zellwegger in. Anyway… at the end, there are the epilogue-type art cards, that tell you that James J Braddock held the heavyweight boxing title until he was defeated by Joe Louis. So this book is about Joe and his rise to the title. (We’re talking about Bird in a Box. Pay attention.) It’s told in the voices of young black kids whose dreams and hopes all fall on Joe. The writing is pretty — but gritty enough to give it some punch. (Gritty in a totally middle-grade manner. Issues abound, though — death, drunken violence, abandonment… big punches, even outside the ring.) Joe Louis was (according to this book) the hope of the American black man, woman and child in the 30s. Yay, historical fiction!

* DRAW THE DARK by Ilsa J. Bick. Creepy, this one. And dark (surprise!). Don’t let Christian draw your picture. You’ll die. Scary! Also, language. But there were some great scenes, and some great characters. But I’m warning you — language, violence, and Nazis (in Wisconsin).

* NORTH AND SOUTH by Elizabeth Gaskell. I’ve heard a bit about this one here and there – a mid-19th century English novel about a young woman who lives three different lives: In the Harley Street ease of luxurious London, the country softness of her father’s parsonage in the south, and the striking (that was a pun; you’ll get it if you’ve read it) difference of a Manchester-type manufacturing city in the north. I wanted to adore it. But honestly? It was a lot of work. POV switched too fast, paragraph to paragraph. Everyone was perfectly beautiful, perfectly intelligent, perfectly controlled (most of the time). I felt Miss Jane Austen’s influence (but not quite enough, or in the right places). Took 2.5 weeks to finish (which, well, is a really long time) — but I stuck it out and I’m adding it to my list of “finished Classics” so I can say I did it.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley: If you’re looking for a witty British 11-year-old scientist who will either solve your mysteries or poison you in your sleep, look no farther than Miss Flavia de Luce. Loved it.

Countdown by Deborah Wiles: I think this is the first of Wiles’s books I’ve read that didn’t make me do the ugly cry. This is a wonderful family story about the Cuban Missile Crisis, of all things. I wonder how over-the-heads of my Kids it might be, as I am no good at discussing things like McCarthyism and such… but there is probably enough pop culture to hold any kid’s imagination. This is almost a graphic novel, with images from 60s advertisements, “duck and cover” propaganda, and photos of the Kennedy family. If you have a kid hovering on the brink of “recent historical fiction” urges, throw this one on.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith: Where, oh where have I been all my life? If you have not read this book, and you possess any sort of glimmer of romance in your soul, read it. Go. Now. You will want to start writing with a pen in your own personal invented shorthand, in a series of progressively more awesome notebooks. I bought it (the book, not  the notebook) as soon as I finished reading. Call me if you want to borrow my copy.[1]

True (…sort of) by Katherine Hannigan: Did you read Ida B? This feels similar, mainly because of the cover, and the rural aspect, and the adorability. Delly. Oh, Delly. She knows she’s so bad, but her heart is so big. There is a very delicate dance around an abused child — probably a good introduction to a tender-hearted kid. Nothing graphic, but frightening enough to “get” the reality. Happy ending. (*whew*)

Unwind by Neal Shusterman: My favorite scary book. In the future US, after the second Civil War, abortion is outlawed, but as a concession to the pro-choice factions, there’s this: Parents can have a child aged 13-18 “unwound” — a scientifically perfect transplant technology, where 99.44% of the unwound person is recycled and reused in other people. From skin grafts to brain transplants and everything in between. I have shiver-arms just thinking about how much this book creeps me out. In the best way. This is a re-read, because I had to buy this one a couple of years ago as soon as I read it.

Once Was Lost by Sara Zarr: This is a re-read, too. I love this book. And Ms. Zarr generously gave me this copy when I commented on one of her brilliant blog posts (I do so like her blog). Sam’s questions way outweigh any answers she’s gotten lately when her life starts to fall apart in this exploration of doubt and faith. I think what I love best about this book is that it is hopeful and faith-filled without being a perfect package — everyone still has problems in the end, but you feel like they’re probably going to be all right. It’s just not cheesy, you get me?

—

And you? Read anything great lately?

—

[1]Only, not if you’re a stranger. That would be creepy.

I watched one.

This one.

I know. It doesn’t make me any cooler. But it is so, so good, and I want to tell you everything in the world that I thought of it. Ready?

Go.

* Oh, Les Miserables. I love you with all my heart and soul, and I’m not even being a tiny bit insincere. For more than twenty years, I have loved you. And this concert was nearly perfect. The orchestra? Phenomenal. Also? There were fireworks. I do not make these things up.

* I found Jean Valjean strangely handsome. Does this mean I’m getting old?

* I always fall a little in love with Enjolras. When I see the show, or read the book, or even listen to the music, my heart goes lurch for him. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the doomed emutee-leader. *Sigh* for revolutionaries. Also? He may have been played by the following middle-Eastern god (behold):

Even had he been a troll, I’d have loved him. But, notice? Not a troll. Yes, the dimple may have helped. Also? He could sing. Oh, yes he could.

* Cosette’s teeth? Distracted me. (The two in front were long. And curved. Unto a beaver, a little bit.) I had to look at her beautiful eyes or the cute mole on her cheek in order not to be sidetracked completely from her perfect performance. I am shallow. I know.

* Shall we talk about Nick Jonas? Firstly, he bears a striking resemblance to my cousin’s husband Ron. And pondering this, I realize that I’ve never seen the two of them in the same room. Hmmm. But I don’t think Ron sings. And, it turns out, Nick Jonas does. (Even if, in Crash’s opinion, [1] he doesn’t hold his notes long enough.) The short notes did not bother me. Want to know what did bother me? Nick Jonas’s propensity toward the earnest eyebrows. Yes. Marius is earnest. But really? Nick was distractingly earnest. Want to see?

Those eyebrows came at me all night. Both times I watched it. I stifled the urge to rub the lines out of his forehead. Through the screen. Eyebrows notwithstanding, he was terrific. Really. This was my first taste of any of the Jonas brothers, and I approve. Of his performance, anyway.

* Eponine. After all these years, at least 10 readings of the novel, and many, many hours spent singing along with her, I still want to be Eponine. Not in real life. Just on stage. (Yes. I know I am too old. I don’t care. Not at all.) This Eponine (Samantha Barks from the London cast) was stunning. Vocally and costume-wise and characteristically. I wanted to bring her home with me. See her up there, singing “A Little Fall of Rain” at Nick’s earnest eyebrows? She also had a killer dimple and glorious eyebrows.

* Costuming/makeup did something to both Mr. and Madame Thenardier’s teeth. A gruesome, yellowy-brown something. Fascinating. I want to know how that happened.

* Gavroche looked like a tiny Aladdin, and I wish he’d been able to do all the “Little People” song, or die on the barricade. Alas.

* Lea Salonga played Fantine. If that sentence means nothing to you, we can still be friends.

* At the end of the show, there’s some Family Reunion-type stuff which made a tear or maybe two fall out of my eyes.

* I borrowed the movie from Netflix. But don’t be too surprised if I end up spending too much money to own it forever, as long as a DVD shall live. I loved it that much. The traveling show was in a City Near Me until today, actually, and I decided not to sell an internal organ in order to take the Kids to see it. So I made them all watch the concert with me after church today (with the added bonus of fast-forwarding through the Lovely Ladies scene, you’re welcome, small Kid 4). I remain of the opinion that this is a piece of literary genius turned musical genius that will (or at least should) remain for generations. At least.

—

[1] I love that Crash and I watched this at the same time. I’d drafted this, and then I read her post, and then, saw that we even stole used the same images from Goooogle — except hers are big, and mine are teensy. Perhaps I’m stalking. Or maybe it’s just a Great Minds moment… or something.

The List, by Melanie Jacobson. This is a perfect ice-cream sundae sort of a book, and I love it. I read it during Melanie’s edits, and I loved it then. I was absolutely no help to her at all, because I was pretty much just, “Oh, hey – this is adorable. I laughed out loud here. Your characters are excellent.” Which, although nice to hear, is not much in the way of useful. (*Side note: I am getting much better at the beta-reader/editing suggestions business. FYI*)

But this past week I was able to read The List again, in all its printed glory, with its perfect and adorable cover, which screams “Gidget” to me (*happy sigh*). When the book came out, many friends asked Melanie if this book wasn’t just really all about her. Which it IS NOT. Melanie Jacobson is not Ashley Barrett. (Melanie is a few years older than Ashley.) And also, Melanie has no desire to skydive. Ever. But the wit? The charm? The fashion sense? The good hair? The banter? The sass? The willingness to try online dating? Oh, yeah. You can be forgiven for mistaking the two.

See, the story goes like this: Ashley Barrett has a few things she wants to accomplish before succumbing to a Mormon Girl’s Matrimonial Fate. And she intends to get them all done. Hence the list – and the adorablilty that ensues when surfer-hottie Matt Gibson stands with one foot on either side of the line – helping her cross off several items, or derailing her altogether from her plans.

It’s fun. It’s funny. The dialog is snappy, real, and hilarious. The characters are those people you wanted to be in college and beyond — or those you wanted to date, or, here and there, those you wanted to slap. The List makes me want to buy shoes, and walk on the pier, and eat steak, and hold hands on the beach. All at the same time.

If you don’t already visit Mel’s blog on a regular basis, hey — do yourself a favor and stop by. I’ll make it easy for you. CLICK THIS LINK.

Yea, Melanie. Once again, you’ve brought me a big smile and hours of happy. Thanks. XO

* COSMIC by Frank Cottrell Boyce: Again. Read it out to the kids.  With Accent. Oh, guys. Read this praise to Dadliness. It is so, so good. Also, Kid 1 said, “Why do I love Liam so much, when real life boys who play World of Warcraft are so… creepy?” Ah, the joys of fictional boys.

* TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE by Mitch Albom: this was a substituting bonus. I read it with senior English classes while their teacher was conferencing for a week. I forgot how much I liked this book. It was a sweet connection of age and youth, death, peace, fulfillment, and humor. Good, good.

* CROSS MY HEART by Julie Wright: Cute, spunky, sassy LDS chick lit. Cover = Love. Add in the love triangles/squares/rhombi? Bonus.

* MATCHED by Ally Condie: Reread. Remember that I loved this? We had a little interview here. Because remember that I also really love Ally? And I knew that BEA was coming, and that Maybe, Possibly, Perchance my friend Ally could get her hands on an ARC of CROSSED, which is coming out in November. So I had to get back into Cassia and Xander and Ky’s world to prepare for CROSSED. I’ll let you know if I score a copy of that piece of magic.

* LEST INNOCENT BLOOD BE SHED by Philip P. Hallie: Wow. I don’t read a lot of nonfiction (because, remember? Shallow) but this one was a recommendation from Pat, who has remarkable taste. It’s the story of a French village during the 1940s Nazi occupation. The village, led by a non-violent Protestant pastor, ran an underground railroad-type resistance that led Jews and other endangered people through France and into Switzerland. Hallie is an ethics professor, and the book is less story than ethics discussion – life and death type ethics, where a person risks his own life to spare the lives of others. Estimates say five thousand children were saved through the work of Pastor Trocme and the village of Le Chambon. It was a cerebral read, but it turns out that when I gave myself a month to handle it, I could.

* NIGHT by Elie Wiesel: Reread, and Subbing bonus. Both. The story of a young man’s survival in Aushwitz and Buna concentration camps. Stunning, spare and heartbreaking. If you haven’t read this, I think you should (and remember how I don’t use that SHOULD word all that much?) because your kids did, or will, or also should. Also, it’s short. Two hours reading. Maybe two and a half. The 2006 translation has a few extras – parts of the story that Wiesel wrote in the original Yiddish, but felt might be too personal for general consumption. Let us not forget.

What have you been reading?