Maybe Wodehouse Ripped Off Lomax for Spode

The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I read this book many years ago as a teen when I was in my Christie phase.  I remember being annoyed with it because it appeared to be ripping off P.G. Wodehouse.  There were the typical Wodehousian characters in situations where people were actually being killed!  Re-reading it this month, I decided it was more an homage to Wodehouse.  And even though I'd read it before, I guessed wrong.  That's what's so wonderful about having a poor memory; a few months/years later, and it's almost a whole new book! 

If you read this, look for the characters comparable to Jeeves and Wooster and to Lord Emsworth.  If the subtleties don't pop out at you, Lord Coote's secretary, the Efficient Bateman is clearly the Efficient Baxter.  Of course, Baxter would never have the nickname "Pongo," but there is a Pongo Twistleton in Wodehouse.

Christie says she was intending something lighthearted (aside from murder, of course, which is not that frothy) and while she isn't Wodehouse, she does succeed.  There are several charming and humorous scenes, such as George's proposal to Bundle and Lady Coote's demeanor at the bridge table.  If you obsess too much with the Wodehouse connection, as I did in my early read of the book, you might find the murders and genuine danger incongruous.  Taken by itself, though, it's a cracking read.



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The Art of Storytime

Marf and friends at the old library.

You think you've told everyone that there are no storytimes in May at the library.  It has been this way all the 17 years you have worked here. People who have run Head Start for all those years should know that too.  So, you're sitting at the Children's Room desk, minding your own bidness and a woman comes in.  You ask if you may help her because a) you're polite and helpful and b) adults aren't supposed to wander freely in the Children's Room.  No, she doesn't need help because she's just waiting for the Head Start group to arrive for their "field trip."  (Parents often accompany the group to help monitor, but arrive separately.)
You think you know for certain that no group was scheduled for today because, well, it's May and you don't do storytimes in May.  There are exceptions, so you check with your supervisor.  She calls the Head Start office and learns that the bus has already left.

This is a job for SuperStoryteller!

Drat!  I put the books I used last week away.  What was I thinking?  I'm not usually this tidy.  No matter!  I'll just wander in the picture books and pull out a couple I like.  I just made some new flannelboard stories (thanks to Flannel Fridays at Mel's Desk); it would be fun to use a couple of them.  And we top it all off with The Animal Boogie!

I chose Two of Everything by Lily Toy Hong because I just love that story annnnnnnnd, Oooo! Can't You Sleep, Little Bear? by Martin Waddell because adults can relate to that.  Also, I have some puppets for it, if I can find them in time.  These books have nothing to do with each other.  So much for always having some sort of theme!  I have less than 20 minutes to pull this together.  If I had more, maybe I could have made a theme package.

I looked at the new flannelboards and chose the "Five Bottles of Juice" and "Blue Car, Blue Car."  This may be a colorful storytime!

Our Storytime space

The new library's storytime room is in what we call The Rotunda.  It's a round space, and the acoustics are fairly lively.  I'm a loud person and I have to pull back in here.  The purple thing* stores big books as well as holding them for you.  Mostly I use it to prop up the books I'm going to read.  The dragon rug is from Highsmith.  We bought it after seeing it at the Charlotte ImaginOn Children's Library.  I wanted to set up a creative play space in our children's room.  For storytimes I prefer to sit on a small chair.  We do have that rocking chair that was originally purchased for our Parenting Corner, but I find I can't do what I want in a big chair that moves.  Fortunately, the child chairs are weight rated for someone my substantial size.

The bus arrives, the children file in, and I start with the "If you're happy and you know it" song.  Then I launch into my first book, Two of Everything.  The first book I read gets the special treatment.  I point out the author and illustrator and we sing the songs:
The author writes the book,
The author writes the book,
Hi-ho, librario
The author writes the book.

The illustrator draws,
The illustrator draws,
Hi-ho, librario
The illustrator draws.

Then I read the book.  When old Mrs. Haktak falls in the pot, I stop and ask them what they think will happen.  Afterwards I ask them what they would put in the pot to make another one of.

Next is a flannelboard.  We sing "5 bottles of juice on the wall" and with each color I ask what kind of juice that might be.

I show them the book Can't You Sleep, Little Bear?  Then I tell them how much I really love the story - but it's more fun ... with puppets!   I pull out the big bear puppet and the baby bear puppet (whose Folkmanis tag I'd removed minutes before) and do the whole thing  in my lap.  I have some props I made for a puppet show of this years ago that I adapted for the flannelboard by sticking velcro on them: three lanterns and a big moon with stars attached with floral wire.  There's also a small book I made, The Koala Code by Dan Braun, for Big Bear to be reading.  The favorite part of any story I do seems to be the snoring.  Well, whatever works!

Next is the Blue Car, Blue Car flannelboard.  They shout the names of vehicles and colors out to me.

And it was all finished off by The Animal Boogie.  We get up and dance to the song.  I have this at the end of all my storytimes now.  I like having something that I do every time so that they have that to look forward to.  They're usually good and jazzed up by the end, so we all sit down and I pull out my Goodbye Couplets, pictures of animals on sticks.
See you later, ... alligator (I give them time to give me the rhyme).
In a while, ... crocodile.
In a blizzard, little ... lizard.
In two shakes, garden ... snake.
Time to scoot, warty ... newt.
Let's meander, ... salamander.
and Hit the road, hoppy ... toad!

And I tell them that this is the last, absolutely the last, full stop, storytime until summer starts.  And unless their director says something to them, they will never know they were unscheduled.  I make a policy of this in my private life as well.

* I don't know where the purple thing came from so I can tell you not to buy that model.  The display panel somehow comes off the track (it slides back up to be flat on top) occasionally and the panels inside that are supposed to keep the big books upright ... don't.  They fall out of their slots at the slightest pressure.  Although it was a good idea, it was poorly executed.  That's a shame because I love purple.

The Holy Art of Lying

Forged: Writing in the Name of God by Bart D. Ehrman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


If you've read the rest of Ehrman's oeuvre, there won't be a great deal more in this book to sink your teeth into.  Right now I suspect Ehrman's a popular New Testament exegesis factory but even a factory turns out good material, even if it all starts to look the same.  He does, however, footnote everything.  He gives you the location of his source material in English so you can check up behind him.  He does not make things up (as colorful as Borg and Crossan's book might have been, they made stuff up, just showing how easy it is to extrapolate, infer, and they produce a factual lie) and it doesn't lose anything for being relentlessly factual because of Ehrman's easy-going, highly readable style.
A better title for this book, though, might have been "Forgeries and Other Bare-Faced Lies."  Ehrman stretches the definition of "forgery" to the breaking point over Acts. Perhaps the title as it stands is the last punch pulled.  Ehrman's gloves are off (as my husband pointed out) as he makes no bones about lies perpetuated in the name of an alleged "Greater Truth."  Normally we call such lies "Fiction," or perhaps "Politics As Usual."  At no time does Ehrman deny the existence of an historical Jesus.  All he's saying is that the people who were inspired by his story fibbed about some things.  And if they fibbed about who wrote what or made up false attributions, what else might they have fibbed about, eh?
The last chapter of the book does make a person think about Lying.  Do you side with Augustine, that a lie is never excusable?  Do you permit small social lying?  Where do you draw the line?  To get a child to take its medicine?  (To get my mother to the hospital to have her tonsils taken out, my grandmother told her she was going to get a pony.  My mother felt utterly betrayed and refused to lie to us kids about anything like that.)  Is a lie permissible to save someone from eternal damnation?  It might depend on how hard you believe in that damnation to make you think it's not just okay, but imperative, to lie in the name of Truth.



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Fresh As the First Time I Read It

Something Fresh by P.G. Wodehouse

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I dearly love this book and its author, so take that into consideration when you read the review.  I also used it for a dramatic reading in college (just happened to see the notes for that in my paperback copy) and managed to get through what I thought was the funniest part without breaking up.  To my best recollection, the listeners did not fall over in paroxysms of hilarity, but I may have been numbed to their reaction in order to get through it.

Yes, it's as funny as it was the first time. 

The Hon. Freddie Threepwood is engaged to Aline Peters, but his father (Clarence, the third Earl of Emsworth) has just "stolen" her father's prized scarab in a typical fit of forgetfulness. He now wants to retrieve some letters he wrote to Joan Valentine when she was on the stage but his go-between, R. Jones, has decided to milk more out of him than the 500 pounds he didn't need to give Joan because she said she threw the letters away.  Joan is an old friend of Aline and promises to help her retrieve the "stolen" scarab, however, Joan's new friend, Ashe Marson has been hired by Aline's father for the same dark purpose.  George Emerson fell in love with Aline on board ship and is using his friendship with the Hon. Freddie to get close to her again.  Got all that, or do you need a diagram?  They all convene (save R. Jones) at Blandings Castle where they land under the beetling brow and jaundiced eye of Freddie's father's secretary, the Efficient Baxter.

Wodehouse tackles the theme of equality of the sexes with a deft hand one would not expect from an author of that time period (ah, but it's comedy, so he can get away with that).  Sadly, it's not developed fully and it does wobble at the end when Joan succumbs to Ashe's petition for marriage.  We don't get to see her fall in love with him the way we see him fall for her and her sudden craving for dullness in place of adventure doesn't ring true.  We do get to see Aline fall in love with George and we are with her when she does.  She is obstinate in her keeping the engagement to the Hon. Freddie in the face of George's high-handedness, but begins her melt when he realizes that it rightly doesn't work to badger the one you love into loving you.  Her subsequent interview with her fiance gives her the opportunity to view what life would be like married to a complete ass.  The romance of living in an English castle among the peerage loses its appeal. 

One of Wodehouse's earliest successes, Something New (or Something Fresh) introduces the third Earl of Emsworth and the gang at Blandings.  It is also rich in over a dozen Biblical references and about 40 other literary and Classical references (at least according to the annotations I found online).  Unlike the Bertie and Jeeves stories, it is narrated by what is normally called an omniscient narrator, but you can see an inkling of Bertie in the narrator's casual forgetfulness as well as the Biblical saltings (Bertie having won a Bible verse contest of some kind in his youth).  The novel also demonstrates the winning formula Wodehouse finally developed and delightfully abused for another 70 books or so: something needs to be stolen (whether scarab, silver cow creamer, painting, manuscript, or necklace) and returned to its true owner, true love will out, and the Hon. Freddie and his chinless comrades will never get married.  Although Wodehouse admitted to writing the same story over and over, it's the details of characters, the lovely language, and the absurd slow-motion description of slapstick that make each successive novel something fresh.



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Only 47?

47 Rules of Highly Effective Bank Robbers by Troy Cook

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


The title captivated me and once I got beyond the gore, the senseless violence, the incest, the anti-social behavior, the "guy humor" - I relaxed and enjoyed the story.  It was a quick read.  Tara was raised by her father to be a bank robber.  One of those 47 rules is No Crying because she blubbed after accidentally shooting him in the foot.  Tara needs excitement in her life, and so does Max, the son of a local sheriff.  Max doesn't need Tara's help to get in trouble, but he decides having her in the mix adds spice to life.  Unfortunately, her father doesn't approve of her choice in men - ever.  The book is peppered with unforgettable characters (whose names escape me at the moment, but names were never my strong suit) on both sides of the law.  Cook toys with the concept of good and evil, so don't expect any black and white distinctions here.  You have good cops and bad, and good bank robbers and bad, good psychos and really, really bad ones.  You want to root for the robbers, but if you're like me, you feel guilty about it. 



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Let's Do Science!

Dry Store Room No. 1: The Secret Life of the Natural History Museum by Richard Fortey

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Richard Fortey peppers his description of the behind-the-scenes views of the Natural History Museum with salacious gossip about the past denizens.  Apparently, scientists are not immune to the amorous arts.  Who'd've thought?! Historically, the museum changed from being run by the elite in scientific fields and wealthy dilettantes to bean counters.  These days its all about how your research can aid commerce or agriculture and there is precious little science for its own sake.  Scientists around the world can't keep up with species yet to be cataloged, some that are only interesting for their own sake and some that may provide medical value.  Fortey is lucky to have done his trilobite research back when research was an end in itself. 

Statue of Darwin overseeing the entrance hall to the Natural History Museum -
from our trip to London (see other photos from my Flickr set).

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Mad? MAD?! Who Are You Calling "Mad"?!

Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


This was quite a potboiler!  Reminded me of that Thomas Hardy book, Desperate Remedies that was published in the years following, especially the part where someone attempts to burn their way out of their problems.  I had to stop halfway through because it was about to turn into something that I find even more disgusting than burning someone to death: calumny.  Lady Audley embarks on a scheme to discredit her persecutor by insinuating that he is mad, that there is madness somewhere in his family, and that his behavior towards her is a sort of mania.  Why she abandons this very effective ruse and instead tries to fry two birds with the same arson is beyond me - except that she has to lose in the end. 
Her antagonist (who is, I suppose, the protagonist in this story, being the "hero" and all, but Lady Audley is at least titular character) is "Bob" Audley, a lazy dullard who hands over all the clues and witnesses he has amassed so that she can (a) steal them, which she does or (b) kill them, which she never quite gets around to, but she has the information just in case she needs it! 
All is sorted out because this is a Victorian novel and Lady Audley must have a punishment that fits the crime and everyone else must live happily ever after, getting married and having adorable children. 
I was able to finish this book by sneaking a peak at the Wikipedia article about it and learning about the happy solution of setting fire to people instead of convincing their friends and relatives that they are mad.  Originally I read it to see if I could fit it in with my Cozy Mysteries discussions, but decided against it and moved on to P. G. Wodehouse instead.  The writing styles are similar in the more light-hearted sections of Audley where the author stops to describe love and that idiot Bob. 
This was a Gutenberg Project book read on the Kindle



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I'd Sure Love to Have Your Job!

A recent post by a friend about the rigors of his job made me stop and think about mine, working in the Children's Room of a public library.  One slow night I had someone remark to me as she left the Children's Room, "I'd sure love to have your job, just sitting around reading."  This from a woman I had asked two or three times if I could help.  Yes, I was reading a book.  I lead an online book discussion.  I was actually having to take notes on it, which takes some of the fun out of reading, I must tell you.
But what do I actually do besides sitting there watching people search aimlessly for some unnamed book?
I read children's books to children.  I teach them fingerplays, tell them stories using a flannelboard or puppets, sing songs and dance with them, hug them when they leave.  It all sounds idyllic, doesn't it?  We have many people who come in who want to help by "reading stories to the children."  It looks so easy.
But I'm working with pre-school kids, kids with the attention span of a gnat.  This isn't the cozy, one-on-one reading you've done with your own child.  This is a roomful (sometimes) of strangers aged three to four, and though one year doesn't sound like a lot, developmentally it can be a Grand Canyon.  I have to be prepared to drop something that isn't working and move on to something that does.  I have to be prepared for anything - such as vomiting children.  There's a storytime stopper if ever I saw one.
Although I have boasted that you could turn me loose in a strange (to me) library and in five minutes I could put together a half hour storytime, that's only because I've been doing this for sixteen years.  My head can now pinpoint a familiar book or story, pull relevant peripherals from my memory, arrange it all and spew it out with verve and ... whatever.  However, that is all built on the back of using pre-existing flannelboards, fingerplays, etc. and reading books on doing storytimes and creating new flannelboards etc. that I like better or that will fit with some theme.  [Here I plug The flannel board storytelling book by Judy Sierra once again as being the absolute best and the blog Mel's Desk for more great ideas.]
And I do puppet shows.  These are programs I have created from scratch (well, using existing picture book stories I think lend themselves to puppet dialog): laying down audio with voice characterizations (I'm not exactly Mel Blanc, but you get the idea), sound effects, music (much provided by my brother-in-law), a sing-along in the middle; making props, puppets, and stage dressing; not to mention kicking the ankles of my assistants when they are too slow exiting puppets from the scene.  You won't believe the energy that goes into one of these.  But they are all recorded, so they can be put on again and again or remixed with each other or new stories to freshen them.
Lately I've been in charge of programming for homeschoolers, something I really enjoy because it involves school-age kids.  You can do so much more with them.  We've had programs ranging from Ancient Egypt to Geology, which key into my own interests in archaeology and science stuff.  Okay, so maybe that's just too much fun.
This season I've been spared the monthly craft activities that have to be multi-age friendly, but I'm still doing crafts with the homeschooler programs and the branch storytimes.
And this is just the fun stuff.
Then there is the sitting at the desk for hours at a time trying to help people who don't know what they're looking for half the time and you have to tease the information out of them with the Reference Interview.  I know all librarians have anecdotes about someone who comes in and says they're looking for one thing but actually they wanted something completely different, they just didn't know how to ask for it.  Insert your favorite anecdote here.
Part of my job is finding a book for someone to read that they will enjoy.  I have my own bad experiences with that, so I'm careful.  "What was the last book you read that you really liked?"  "A dog book?  Do you want a dog story or true stuff about dogs?"
While out there I have to monitor computer usage.  Children have to show me a library card to get on the computers, but most of them just go sit down and start playing so I have to ask them for their card and make them come to the desk and sign up.  I also have to refuse this activity to kids who don't have a valid card or one with too many fines on them (which, of course, is not their fault because they can't drive to the library, can they?) in some way that doesn't humiliate or traumatize them.  "Oh, honey, have your mommy take this card to the big desk and get it fixed first, okay?" 
Then there is the state-of-the-art printer/copier I have to help people use that makes me want to beat my head against the wall.  If you even lightly brush the screen, you'll make some hideous change and 30 copies will come out wrong.  "You want to make two-sided copies?  On this machine?  Let me take this in the back.  We have a machine back there that will do it automatically."
They come to the Children's Room for lamination because the machine is closest to our door.  "You want how many pages laminated?  You do know that it's a dollar a foot, right?"
We are in a new library and many people just want to wander through and look it over.  Well, adults are not supposed to be wandering around in the Children's Room, so I give them mini-tours and then send them on their way to "see the upstairs!"  This, at least, gets me off my duff.  They have to be politely reminded (or informed) that there are bathrooms, copiers, computers, etc. for adults elsewhere in the library.  As taxpayers they are owed some courtesy, aren't they?   I remind them that if they have purchased anything in the county, the sales tax is helping to pay for the library and I thank them for that.  Now, run along and see the view of North Main Street from the rotunda upstairs.
At the same time, although I'm 57 and chronically depressed, I have to be bright, helpful, and charming.  I have to remember how I would like to be treated if I were in this situation.  I've had a store owner complain about how her customers mess up her organization while I was still standing there.  Did I purchase anything in that store?  Oh, no!   I'll be nice to my patrons who want to stick things back any old way.  I use the old "I have to check that in as 'in-house use' first!" wheeze.  I stop to show kids that the spine needs to be pointing out and while I'm there, show how to mark where the book came from so it can go back in the same place (assuming that we put it away in the right place to begin with) and then give them the option of letting me put it away. 
Believe me, it's exhausting.  I can be totally zoned out when I get home.  Heck, I can be just staring into space while at the desk. 
I am not 100% happy all the time at my job, but it is the best job in the world ... for me anyway.  I hope you taxpayers think it's worthwhile.

Y'All Drive Me Crazy With Your Adult Over-Caution

Island of the Aunts by Eva Ibbotson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I see a lot of objections in the reviews of this book to the "kidnapping" device of the story.  Adults are having a big problem with the concept of kidnapping - but not the fantasy.  I think we often stint on giving credit to children's intelligence.  You only have to look at the cover of this book (with the giant eye of the Kraken and the mermaid) to see this is a book of fantasy.  The first sentence tells you what you already know, that kidnapping children is not a good idea.  Nor, I might add, is luring them away. 
The author has to find a way to get three children from their mundane or painful lives to another place.  One of them has to be a mistake.  No sane child who is old enough to read this would make the assumption that being kidnapped is a fun thing to have happen.  The children in the book know what kidnapping is really about - it's about being tied up and awful things happening.  They have been taught properly.  But this is a book of fantasy where things don't happen as expected in real life. 
I think we need to let go of our adult sensibilities (we read murder mysteries, don't we, and we don't complain about people getting killed or tortured in them for our pleasure or it leading to readers who will go out and murder in real life) and enter this fantasy world that Ibbotson creates where there are nice people and not-nice people who do wicked things for what they think are good reasons and have silly opinions on "aristos" or men or whatever. 
Ibbotson's work is great fun to read.  There's lots of imagination and gentle humor and they are slightly sillier than, say, Diana Wynne Jones's books. Another fantasy writer who would appall adults and raise the hairs on the necks of kids is John Bellairs. 



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It's Just a Diamond

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


It's hard to believe that all of the mystery conventions in this book we might consider to be trite were innovations at that time.  It's also amazing that Collins was (apparently) dealing with an opium addiction while writing this.  [Well, that's what Wikipedia said Monday.  It may have changed since.]
I had read this before, many years ago, after reading The Woman In White which itself was in response to a book I read in the 1970s about how real life experiences informed the fiction of several mystery writers.  TWIW was terrific in the beginning, but my recollection was that I thought it went out of control toward the end and I lost interest in it.  This book was not like that.  I kept surging forward, although I had a memory in the back of my mind what the solution was.  I just had to see how we got there. 
What fun characters!  And in their own words.  There are many narrators, each giving their peculiar spin on events.  How can you not love that dear Miss Clack and her well-meaning but "sadly" unwelcome proselytizing!  And it's so much more fun to hear it from her side. 
The re-reading of this book was a result of having read of the influence of the Kent murder on it (the nightdress! the nightdress! the failed detective! the failed detective coming out of retirement!) in Kate Summerscale's book, The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher. 
A book of its time (which is a coded way of expressing the possible political incorrectness), there is a lot of silly business about the superstitions of the "Hindoo" and yet there are characters that tread a bit far the other way to ennoble the Indians.  The most satisfying way in which Collins tips his hand in how he feels about them is by allowing them to rescue their Moon God's stolen diamond ... after 300 years of failing at it. 
Collins also shows his sympathies to the serving class by giving us well-rounded characterizations there ... yet making the steward/butler a figure of fun with his obsession with Robinson Crusoe and his way of soothing the distaff branch of the below stairs bunch by setting them in his lap.  Oh dear. 
As I said, great characters, interesting POVs, a jolly good mystery, and a trailblazer in the genre!



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Molehills Out of Mountains

Earth: An Intimate History by Richard Fortey

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


As much as I enjoyed his book on Trilobites and as interested as I am in geology, this meaty book was almost too much to handle (and I read John McPhee's Annals of the Former World. and ate it up - but, of course, that got a Pulitzer).  The literary quotations included, whilst showcasing Fortey's well-rounded education, were merely annoying and the one by D. H. Lawrence about a tortoise seemed pointless.  It took me months to read this because I had to mull over the material bit by bit to make sure I understood.  [Also, by the end I was hearing in my head Pwof. Bwyan M. Fagan weading it.] I was also disappointed in the bit about glass being a solid and yet a very, very slow-moving liquid, which I believe has been debunked - but what do I know?  [I only have a BA in Spanish. Carrumba.]
However, Fortey gives us just a taste of orogeny around the world and the make-up of the earth and only makes you want to go see it for yourself.  Of course, he also handily describes parts we will never see because they are too deep and, necessarily, hot.  I know from McPhee that there are scientists who do not subscribe to the tectonics gavotte of the plates, but none of that was brought up here.  Fortey does not eliminate controversy from the narrative.  I suspect that his trilobite hunting all over the world and other travels just made him more secure in that particular theory. 




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Keine Zahnfee?

Throw Your Tooth on the Roof: Tooth Traditions from Around the World by Selby B. Beeler

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


A charming book of disgusting milk tooth traditions from around the world.  Reminds me of Pratchett's book Hogfather in that many of these teeth are being taken away or protected.  There must be some powerful universal hoodoo associated with this. 

Mice seem to be in charge of collection in many places, which makes sense as they are rodents and have the continuously growing teeth.  I'm not sure what throwing the tooth on the roof represents, but it seems to be popular.  And, I don't know Danish, but I suspect that the tooth fairy "named Tand Feen" is actually named "Tooth Fairy." [Just checked that with Google Translate and I'm right.]  Germany needs to get on the stick.  Apparently, they don't do anything special with baby teeth which just seals their fate for me as the Most Boring People in the World.  [Before anyone complains, I should point out that both sides of my family are German and no noticeable personality developed until they emigrated.]  If anyone knows of any interesting tooth traditions from Germany, please let me know.


For additional reading, I suggest I lost my tooth in Africa by Penda Diakité which is a really cute story with great illustrations.



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Anatomy of a Shadow Puppet Stage

Shadow puppet theatre in situ.

Puppeteer side with the cheap shoplight (on a microphone stand).

Frosty the Snowman knew the sun was hot that day ...

Puppet show "in progress" - ha ha.

Many years ago we created a puppet stage from two step ladders, two 1 by 6s, velcro strips, and some cloth.  We were also able to do shadow puppet plays by substituting a white sheet in front for the black backdrop.  I got ambitious one year and wanted to do some cute shadow puppet plays during storytime, so I made a stage from a poster carton and just some white roll paper.  Wax paper would work for a smaller stage.  Cardboard has the advantage of being lightweight and easy to toss into the back seat of a Toyota Corolla.

We've created several shadow puppet shows: one based on Remy Charlip's Mother, Mother, I Feel Sick, Robert Barry's Mr. Willoughby's Christmas Tree, Dr. Seuss's story "The Sneetches," and the songs "Frosty the Snowman" and "The Witch Is On Her Broomstick."  They are all just short of a nightmare to put on, but the kids just love them. 

The shadow puppets are often cut (and here the exacto-knife comes in handy) from black posterboard, but I've also used black foam sheets.  If you use color sheets, the color will still show a bit.  Storage is a problem because the fiddly bits start getting floppy so I've gone back and reinforced them with bits of wood (i.e. toothpicks, craft sticks, etc.) and then colored the wood with black magic marker if I need to use both sides. 

Shadow puppets show up clearest if they are pressed flat against the screen of the theatre and to make this easier, I started putting their sticks in at an angle. For the sticks I use bamboo skewers that I've stuck (with hot glue) into packing peanuts hot glued to the back of the puppet.  This works well as long as you aren't planning to use both sides of the puppet.  The long bamboo skewers help me keep my fingers out of the shadows.  Packing peanuts don't hold up forever, but they have the virtue of being plentiful and free, if you order a lot of stuff.  

Diagram of dinosaur shadow puppet with packing peanut and skewer at an angle.

We store flannelboard stories in manila jackets and I've tried doing that with shadow puppets, but moved on to a flap from a corrugated cardboard box.  The skewers fit nicely in the corrugations and the cardboard coordinates with the low-tech theatre.

There's something magical about shadow puppets.  You can use them to freshen up some flannelboard stories and rhymes: Five little whatevers, The three billy goats gruff, etc.  If you use them, it's probably best to use them at the end because it means turning off the lights - and then when the magic's over and the lights come back on, it's time to say goodbye, say goodbye, say goodbye.

Help! I Have 90 Firsts Graders Coming!

Partial Cast of The Mitten

Set pieces for Granny Glittens and Her Amazing Mittens

Okay, you're told that 90 first graders are coming and expecting some boffo program as well as a tour of the new library.  They're dividing them in half and taking one half on a tour while you do your fabulous thing.  I've chosen two puppet plays I know I can do by myself (plus a shadow puppet play to "Frosty the Snowman" at the end if there's time).  The first is The Mitten, a cute story where, by the end, the puppets explode out into the audience.  That's almost as much of a crowd-pleaser as squirting them with water at the slightest excuse.  The second is a favorite story from my childhood.  It came from The Tall Book of Christmas Stories and captivated me totally by turning itchy woolen mittens into candy.  I only have to put my hair up, my bifocals back on, and throw on a shawl to be Granny Glittens herself.

The set pieces for Granny Glittens are made from white posterboard (and one piece of corrugated cardboard for the packing box for her new stove) and backed with pieces of paper towel roll to keep them standing up straight.  The balls of yarn are on bamboo skewers.  I pop a white ball of yarn in the pot on the stove ... and out comes one by one: a red one, a green one, a brown one, a yellow one, and a black one.  I've heard gasps of amazement from 4 year olds.  First graders might be a bit more jaded.

Don't they wonder about the size of the stove relative to the human being? you ask.  What, you haven't heard of suspension of disbelief? 

Polar Bear Flannelboard

The Cold, Cold Night

One cold, cold night in the snowy, icy north a man heard a crunching outside his little house.  He opened his door to look out into the night but suddenly it was quiet.  The cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright when over the snowdrift appeared two big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such big, big ears in the cold, cold night!”

And the cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright

when over the snowdrift appeared two dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears in the cold, cold night.”

But still he stood in the doorway.

And the cold wind blew, and the stars above twinkled, and the moon shone bright

when over the snowdrift appeared a black, black nose under the dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears.

“Oh, my,” he said.

“How strange to see such a black, black nose under the dark, dark eyes under the big, big ears in the cold, cold night.”

But still he stood in the doorway.

And then the man said, “Where did you get such big, big ears?”

“Much listening, much listening.”

“And where did you get such big, big eyes?”

“Much watching, much watching.”

“And where did you get such a black, black nose?”

“Much sniffing, much sniffing.”

“And what brings you to my door?”
D
r
a
m
a
t
i
c
P
a
u
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“Snowshoes!”

Circles made with various die-cut patterns: planets, insides of 4" letter O, etc.
Black flannel is plain, but white flannel is fuzzy flannel that I keep hidden from the rest of the library. 

We've had snow down here all week, which is unusual for here and while I usually do something snow-related for pre-schoolers (many of them have not seen snow or ice - I had to explain icicles in December), I'm tired of doing the same stuff.  I saw a print-out online of some circles that could be cut out to make a polar bear and I decided it would make a cute flannelboard.  After looking at photos of real polar bears, though, I made the eyes smaller than the nose.  I'd been casting around for a rhyme to go with this when I remembered the flannelboard of "The Pumpkin Man" - so I used that as a basis forthe flannelboard story above.

Next I'll probably make a big book out of it!

Hit the Road, Hoppy-Toad

Adults are not allowed in the Children's Room of our library.  Well, not exactly.  Stray adults are not supposed to be wandering around the CR.  Adults with children can hang out.  Caregivers can come in without their charges and look for books.  There isn't an operating PAC station in the adult area downstairs, so they have to come into the CR to look up a book.  The die-cut machine is available to the public and it's pretty deep in the CR.  So many exceptions.  But how do you know if you have a stray adult or a caregiver?  Yesterday I lurked by the desk to tell a woman that, for future information, there are adult restrooms in the adult area behind the stairs.  I am not going to make someone turn around and go the whole length of the building in case it is an emergency.  I will let them know there is a better choice in their own area.  It turned out she had kids in the CR.  I'm glad she spoke to them as soon as she came out or I'd have been embarrassed.

My strategy has always been to ask what appear to be stray adults if I can help them, but often they say no and keep moving.  Next, I follow them and start a tour of the CR.  They've helped pay for it, so they should be allowed to see where their money has gone.  "You are in the Children's Room," I begin.  "Is there something I can show you?"  If they seem amenable, I will show off the computers for children, the puppet stage for children, the program room, the homework/tutoring rooms, etc.  Usually this will work.  In fact, I've given two tours already this morning.  I will then finish it all off by suggesting they see the upstairs as well ("Run along, now!").

I don't want to appear to be accusing someone of anything or singling anyone out.  I did monitor one man who didn't want help, didn't want a tour, but was just going to watch the children, he said, long enough to determine that he was actually there as a father who had finished what he was doing elsewhere in the library and was rejoining his wife and kid.  Anyone could be there with a kid.  The kids run down on their own (they're supposed to have an adult with them - and there's another thorny issue) and I have to look to see if an adult is coming along to be with them.  Which adult?

A new library generates new membership.  I don't know half of these people.  The last thing I want is to come off like some brassy library dragon who challenges every adult who walks in (not to mention intimidates young children who got ahead of their parents).  This is a tightrope I walk every day - without any set guidelines.  All I know is: no stray adults and no unaccompanied children unless they're old enough to be too old for the CR, at which point they should be annoying the teen center people upstairs. 

No adults on the children's computers - except we don't have the in-house use laptops yet, so parents often work or surf next to their children on the children's computers. 

And, while we're at it, absolutely everyone, even nice people, is ignoring the "Please Turn Off Cell Phones" signs.  I had a mom poke her head in the CR last night and say to her middle-school daughter, "You have a cell phone, look at it.  I've called you three times."  Ummm ... lady, she's not supposed to have it turned on.  That's, like, a rule - like the one about no food or drink. 

It's possible that we need signage, but the more you put up, the less inclined people are to read them.  And I bet the architect will have a hissy fit if we start putting up any big signs on his nice, clean walls and columns.  So it's down to me confronting people.  Sometimes I wish I had brass - but I just don't.  Why can't you just get in people's faces and tell them they aren't welcome in the CR for some reason?   Well, there you go.  If it's a child, I don't want to turn the library into some horrible experience (that kept me out of public libraries until I was in college).  If it's an adult, who is paying for the building and my salary (however distantly), I don't want them to write letters to the editor or to their councilmen (or keying my car, depending on how they tend to react to rejection) because they wandered unknowingly into Forbidden Territory.   I want them to see their library ... once, at least.   I'm proud of it.  I want kids to feel welcome, but not fall between some cracks (too old for the CR, too young to be in the adult computer lab alone). 

For now, this is my method of coping:
Step One: "May I help you?" [Who are you and what are you doing in here?]
Step Two: "This is the Children's Room.  May I show you something?" [You can't stay.]
Step Three: "Don't miss the second floor!  There is a really nice view of North Main Street from the rotunda upstairs!" [Now, scram!]

I'm working on polite ways of making people with cell phones not talk on them.  I'll stick with "Where's your mom, honey?" for loose kids.

Feline Exegesis

The Rabbi's Cat by Joann Sfar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I read this on the strength of The Professor's Daughter that I found so charming.  This was a totally different kind of story about a cat in a sephardic household in Algeria.  Why it's in our library I can't imagine, but I am grateful!  I may also be one of the few people in town who can fully appreciate the book.  There are three stories in this volume, the first about the cat's desire for a bar mitzvah so he can return to his mistress.  Once he learned to speak (after consuming a parrot that would not shut up), he learned to lie, and so the rabbi separated him from his daughter.  The cat, however, argues theology with him. Heh!
In the second story, the rabbi is poised to lose his position as rabbi if he cannot pass a French dictation exam.  His cat, unable to enter and help him, prays for a miracle.  This is always a mistake, as my friend who helped someone pray to be released from the curse of daily hiccups could tell you.  I wonder if my friend is still hiccuping in her friend's stead ...  While the rabbi is waiting to hear about his status, a young man come to his grandfather's funeral and also announces that he is a not yet official new rabbi for the area.  The rabbi's cousin has a solution, a sword, and a lion, but nothing works out the way you'd think in these stories.
The rabbi travels to Paris in the last story in the volume.  By the end of the book, he is an enigma to everyone, except perhaps, his cat.
There's a lovely photo of Sfar and his cat on the flyleaf.  The cat is the model for the much more rangy looking drawn cat.  The art in this book is rough and all the text as if hand-written.  These are wonderful, amusing, and surprising stories.




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It's a Long, Long Way from May to ...

The Professor's Daughter by Joann Sfar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I was utterly charmed by the story, the illustrations, and the printing.  The cavorting with mummies reminded me of the Adèle Blanc-Sec books, but this story is slightly less gruesome than those.  True, there are poisonings and shootings, but this is a love story between Imhotep IV and the daughter of the professor who planned to put him on display.  While capturing the surreal, the exquisite drawings evoke the past with the regularity of their size and the monochrome treatment of the early part of the stories that gradually increases in color as the mummy's life becomes more ... fraught.


The plot itself begins almost halfway into the story.  We don't know how the mummy came to be found or was discovered to be alive - only that the professor's daughter has dressed him in her father's clothes and taken him out for what can only be described as a date.  Imhotep IV lives up to his proper English clothing for only a short time and then a taste of tea inebriates him and what started as a harmless outing turns into high adventure and courtroom drama!  This short book leaves you crying for prequels! 



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Spoiling for Murder

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective by Kate Summerscale
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book was soooo good!  I even read the footnotes!  Can you have spoilers in a non-fiction book?  If you think so, I recommend you stop reading right now!

I mean, it's not as if the alleged solution isn't telegraphed to you right on the cover, now that I look at it.  I'd sussed it by page 5 and a quick look through the photographs seemed to confirm it, so I guess it isn't meant to be that much of a secret.  It is still a mystery, and we'll Never Know the Truth, but we can get all gurgly while guessing (or maybe it's the high-test tea I've been drinking lately).


Summerscale certainly did her homework and shows the math.  She catalogs the influences of the murder on literature as well as the real life detecting, which became a passion for the population of England at that time, totally captivated as they were by the particulars.  Our Mr. Whicher walks into the investigation weeks late, but seems to pinpoint the most likely scenario immediately.  Unfortunately, he is unable to prove it or to pressure his suspect into breaking down and confessing.


There is no solution for five years, and then we have a bare-bones confession exculpating everyone else in a hundred mile radius.  The confessed killer is spared the death penalty by Queen Victoria and, despite continual applications for early parole, serves the entire life sentence and goes on to lead what appears to be a blameless life.  But, was there an accomplice?  Was the father infected early on with syphilis causing the madness in his first wife, the deaths of many of their children, and the blindness and early demise of his second wife?  Was the atmosphere in this family as poisonous as it would seem to need to be to cause the brutal murder of a young child?  Or was this all just the fevered imaginings of your typical angst-ridden teens?


I have one quibble with one of the photos that was represented as a mosaic of a cherub with the face of a young child as made by the confessed killer.  As one who pretends to artistic abilities, I know that I tend to use my own face and body, consciously or unconsciously, when creating the human form.  And if you look at the mosaic and then its creator, you will see the resemblance.  Oh, it would be nice if it were the head of the murdered child, especially because it looks decapitated, but I believe it looks ever so much like Constance.


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Titel ... Gut

The Totally Made-up Civil War Diary of Amanda MacLeish by Claudia Mills

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Keeping in mind that this is a children's book, this is a fairly sophisticated story.  Amanda's parents are splitting up (in a way that makes the mother at first look blameworthy) and her distress is paralleled by the class project: keeping a Civil War diary for Polly, a fictional girl her age who has one brother who supports the Union cause and another who supports Secession.  This is a careful distinction.  The younger brother does not necessarily support slavery, but does support the right of slave-owning states to determine their own regulations in this matter.  The older brother, not Polly's favorite which adds to the complexity, is against slavery.  And they all live on one of those border states that couldn't make up its mind either: Maryland.


The story lightly touches on attitudes about race and Amanda shows the typical attitude of someone who wants to be right-thinking, but still struggles a bit with her preconceptions while deploring prejudice.  She also parallels the conflict with her own behavior when her pain over her parents' separation causes her to avoid her friend, yet want her friend to pursue her, and then blame her when she doesn't. 
The message: I'm rubber and you're glue, if we go back far enough we'll find the problem was you.  In her fictional diary, the brothers reconcile, as she does with her friend.  Unless her parents can agree on an open relationship, that marriage is doomed and it looks like serial monogamy for Dad.  And I don't believe for five seconds that her dad didn't start that relationship with Caroline until after the split and I bet Amanda's sister Steffi doesn't either, cynical little slut.

This book covers so much in so few pages.  Amanda is confronted with the gamut of button-pushing situations: parental conflict, separation, adultery, pubescent sibling with attitude, shame, math homework, leaden political correctness, bad weather, racism, and a lost cat!  I cried and cried.  All of this is deftly written so that it doesn't seem like a ham-handed pulling out of all the stops, but just like normal life.  Good job, Claudia Mills.



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