Lowry Updates

NCTE in Philadelphia

The NCTE convention was several weeks ago, and I know I have mentioned it before, but while I was later in Germany one of the teachers who had attended, and who had a book signed and a photo taken, emailed me the photograph. I intended to post it---and told her I would---but I was traveling, with my laptop, and when I got home and returned to my regular computer, the photograph remained with my traveling stuff. So, like sunglasses and folding umbrellas, it lay forgotten in some luggage until now.

And now here it is, me and Michelle Hudson from Louisiana. Nothing at all unusual about this photo, but it represents so well the many, many teachers who travel long distances (often, I think, at their own expense) and bring such enthusiasm with them --- for books --- that it is very heartening for authors.  We love being reminded of what happens to the books when they leave our hands, and to talk to the teachers who use them in classrooms, who care so much about individual children,

Thank you, Michelle, and every other teacher like you, for all that you do.

The Little Princess

I received an email announcing that The Junior Library Guild has chosen my upcoming book, The Birthday Ball, as one of their Spring 2010 selections.  They asked me to write a short essay abut the origin of the book for inclusion in their catalogue.  A tough task because the book is a light-hearted romp set in a  palace and populated by various royal characters, plus chambermaids and kitchen staff,  and preparations for the upcoming 16th birthday of  the princess.  No deep inner meanings, no meaningful theme, just pure fun---and nothing wrong with that but it is hard to write an essay about it.

Then I remembered my own granddaughter's 6th birthday, for which I gave her royal garb: a fake ermine cape, a fake diamond tiara, the whole princesssy outfit. I looked through old photos for that ten-years-ago event, and found this one, which I included in my essay (though I don't know if they'll have room to print it in their catalogue).

 
Instead of writing about the origins of the book, I simply wrote about how young girls---at least this young girl of my acquaintance---identify with princesses and their milieu. In the book, Princess Patricia Priscilla is bored with her luxurious life and longs to be a peasant.  My little granddaughter, at six, would have traded her peasant life for a palace, I'm sure.

Of course she is now 16 (see previous post!), the age of the princess in the book, and her priorities have changed a bit!

Give my Regards to...

This is the curtain design for the play "God of Carnage" which Martin and I saw Saturday night in New York. Busy weekend there. Dinner with friends Friday night, then an appearance at the 92nd Street Y early Saturday afternoon, then Chinese food with some lovely kids whose moms brought them all the way in from Long Island to have a little time with me; then the theater; then brunch Sunday with another friend, then the LimoLiner back home.

In the meantime, my grandsons, back in Maine were enjoying a) a Christmas concert with the 6th grade orchestra (here is percussionist Grey, age 11)

 

and b) the next night, a 9th birthday party for Grey's brother Rhys (we gave him a cookbook and a chef's outfit):

...and now I must start getting Christmas plans in gear.

(But first, since I pictured both grandsons, here is the 16-year-old granddaughter, Nadine, whom I recently visited (and photographed) in Europe):

"Boring, with a terrible ending"

This is from a reader who should have clicked on "E-mail me" on my homepage, instead of posting this as a blog response. Those who email me get replies. Blog responses don't. I keep trying to remind kids of that but my reminders don't seem to have any effect.

*****

December 8, 2009 Dear Mrs. Lowry: Hi, My name is Ilan, I’m 14 years old, and I’m writing to you from Mexico City. I want you to know what my opinion is about your book “The Giver”. When I started reading it, I had a lot of questions that with time the book answered. Questions such as: What is release? Do they have technology? Do you decide who you marry? Do they get bored doing their assignments? How was garbage disposed of? Do they manufacture or produce things? Who is the father of the babies? You only talk about mothers (I don’t have the answer to this one.) Why do they need a Giver? What kind of society is it? (I don’t have the answer to this one either.) The beginning of the book was very interesting but as I turned each page it became less interesting because I felt it was boring. Now let’s talk seriously. I didn’t really like the book, I hated it. It was boring all the way through. There were parts that were very complicated like why did the community do all this stuff. The book made me feel angry because the book´s critics are good critics and everything they said was a lie. The opinions had to be this way: “No simplicity and no directness from you” Booklist, Starred “A poorly, not provocative novel” Kirkus Reviews, Starred “Boring with a terrible ending” School Library Journal, Starred. “Lowry, not a good writer” Publisher Weekly, Starred “Not a good presentation” The Horn Book Magazine, Starred. “A boring novel” The New York Times. “A book without meaning” Ilan in Mexico (“ME”) “Not boring” Miss Lupita (my English teacher) “Not appropriate for young children (17+)” Miss Lupita “Not appropriate for anybody” Ilan “Kids don’t believe in that, it is an utopian not credible society” Miss Lupita “I didn’t think it defended freedom” Ilan “It is a book that should not be read in schools” Ilan “I think you have a lot of imagination, you could have instilled more effort into the story” Ilan In conclusion, Mrs. Lowry, please excuse how straight forward I was with my opinion about your book. I like to read books that are interesting, that make me not want to leave it, I only finished it because my English teacher told me to. I would like to hear from you. Thank you very much. Ilan

Heeeere's...Ashley!

Ashley Bryan is an old and dear friend of mine and like too many of my friends I don't see him often enough. But he was here last night.

Earlier in the day I had had a class of students from Simmons here---eleven of them---and they were just leaving when Ashley arrived. So there were hasty introductions while people were putting on boots, taking off coats, etc, all of them in the front hall.  I wandered off to the kitchen to tend the oven because Ashley and two other friends had come for dinner.

But next thing I knew, I could hear Ashley reciting a poem in his vibrant voice. An audience-participation poem. And eleven girls from Simmons, who had never met this man before in their lives, were shouting out the responses. That's Ashley for you---whipping up enthusiasm and participation, from total strangers, in literally seconds. 

I hope the students went off into the cold night warmed by poetry and by an encounter with Ashley.

Top 10

I have just been notified that my recent book is listed among "Top 10 Children's Books" in a list created by (or for) Time Magazine:

I am certainly in good company (including that of several friends) on that list. But throwing the whole enterprise into a dubious perspective is the awareness of what OTHER Top 10 lists Time is publishing:

for example: "Top 10 Scandals," which includes David Letterman and Tiger Woods; "Top 10 Untruths", which includes Balloon Boy;  "Top Songs," of which the first is "My Life Would Suck Without You" by Kelly Clarkson;  "Top 10 Fleeting Celebrities" (Susan Boyle; Octomom); and "Top 10 Feuds: (Gosselin vs. Gosselin).

You get the picture.

Il Pleut.

I know someone who has an umbrella that says "Merde. Il pleut"on it, and I wish I had one just like it.  Today, in Paris, il pleut, but it is only a fine drizzle, and not cold, so it was not unpleasant walking. We spent the morning at the Musée Rodin, which we have been to in the past, but right now they have a special exhibition showing the relationship between Rodin and Matisse, which was quite interesting, once we mastered the audio and got it to talk to us in English, not French.

The gardens surrounding that museum are lovely, and right now, in almost December, still filled with late roses.

Le Penseur sits there not minding the rain.

We had lunch at a nearby café and found ourselves seated elbow-to-elbow with a pleasant elderly couple who spoke no English but the wife wanted to converse, maybe because when she ordered the quiche and a glass of Sancerre, I duplicated her order---in fact, just told the waiter "La meme chose" ---the equivalent of the wonderful line in "When Harry Met Sally": "I'll have what she's having."   So while the men concentrated on their lunch, pointedly ignoring the women, (maybe even rolling les yeux), she told me (in French) that they have a daughter in Phoenix, and I was able to reply brilliantly in French that it is very hot in Phoenix in summer, and she agreed, Oui Oui; then I was able to get across that we live in Boston, where it is very cold in winter, and she pretended to be fascinated by the weather report and the fact that I learned how to say the four seasons in high school French class.

We did not progress to world events, or even to what it might be like in spring in Baltimore.

Martin took a cab back to the hotel but I do like walking, and was able to wander the grounds of Hotel des Invalides en route. In Paris, en automne, il pleut.

Bon jour

This is the quite small (36 room) hotel where Martin and I are spending three days before going on to Germany.  We've been in Paris before, even once rented a flat here, but this time decided to stay in a part of the city that we don't know well, and so ended up here in the 15th arrondissement, on a quiet side street very near the Eiffel Tower. And since we didn't come this time to sight-see, mostly we have just been taking walks, scoping out the neighborhood, and are impressed with the parks and gardens everywhere. It would be a nice area to live in. Late this afternoon we watched parents waiting outside a primary school, for their kiddies to be let out: some moms actually carrying loaves of bread, and the little ones all in toggle coats---as if they had all been cast in a Truffaut film like "L'Argent du Poche"  which portrayed French children so beautifully.

At noon today we found a brasserie and had moules --- mussels --- enough to feed an army; we couldn't finish.

Tomorrow, more of the same---except for the moules---and then we will fly to Luxembourg on Sunday, to be picked up by my daughter-in-law for the one-hour drive across the border to their home in Germany.

City of Brotherly Love

I came scarily close to missing my flight to Philadelphia yesterday morning. The plane was scheduled to leave at 7:15 and so I had booked my car service (this is the one hugely extravagant thing in my life. I use a car service to and from the airport) to pick me up at 6 AM. Which it did, of course--they are always on time, unlike taxis, and always know what route to take (unlike taxis. These are the reasons why I use the car service, these plus the fact that I don't have to listen to the drivers' political views, or sit white-knuckled as they speed)

So. My driver dropped me at the airport at 6:20, and because I had forgotten to do so from my own computer, i had to get my US Airways boarding pass from a kiosk, and then it was 6:25. And that's when I discovered the line at security. MILES long.  I had not anticipated the number of families headed, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, to the Caribbean.  Gulp.  Having no other options that I could think of, I got in the line, which was interminable and apparently unmoving. I stood there, inching forward,  until it was 6:40---my plane was to start boarding at 6:45---and there were still zillions of people, most with strollers and golf clubs, ahead of me.

Then I thought of a possible solution---scary because it meant giving up my place in line, and by now there were a hundred people, at least, behind me.  But I thought I remembered that from the US Airways Shuttle to NY or DC , at the other end of the terminal, you could in fact get to the regular gates by a back route. So I scurried there, and indeed there were few people n the security line, because people aren't making business trips at 7 on a Saturday morning. Whew. I made my way through, and indeed found my way around to the regular gates, and got to my plane, which was, by then, half boarded, in time.

And now I am in Philadelphia. Last weekend at a hotel in Connecticut, I did what I always automatically do in a hotel room, which is to look at the little map of emergency exits on the back of the door. Last weekend was the first time I have actually been called upon to groggily remember that information, when I had to leave the hotel at 2 AM as the fire engines pulled up.

Here, I wonder why bother studying the map! I am on the 29th floor. It does make for a great view of the city:

Yesterday I signed books for 3 hours in the exhibition hall of the NCTE convention---saw a lot of acquaintances and friends, one of the best things about these conventions. David Weisner was signing next to me at one point. And Jerry Spinelli stopped by to say hi. (Both David and Jerry live in Philadelphia) Kathy Lasky and Jane Yolen---both of whom live in Massachusetts, as I do (Kathy within walking distance of my house!) Plus loads of others. And this morning I am about to meet David Bradley for brunch---David is the director of the theater which will produce "Gossamer" here in the spring.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Just an update, since I had mentioned on the blog that my son Ben had been selected to play for the New England team at the over-30 Baseball World Championship series held last week in Florida.

Here's Ben. The New England team lost in the semi-final round so they did not emerge as the champions, but Ben, who played second base and shortstop, said it was all wonderful fun---well, here's his actual description:

 I got back from the Fall Classic in West Palm last night and wanted to let you know what a great experience it was.  The New England team, made up of 15 guys from Maine, NH and Mass (and called “The Maine Diamond Dogs”) lost in the semi-finals, 3-1, to a team from New Jersey.  Along the way, we beat the Puerto Rican team in the 6000 seat main stadium, which was the highlight of the trip.  I also got the chance to play next to John Collins, an old friend from Colby, which was great.  Our team finished with 3 wins and 2 losses.  I batted cleanup and hit .333 for the tournament, playing shortstop and second base.  No, no home runs. I also got a chance to play against Dante Bichette, a former major league all-star who holds most of the all-time records for the Colorado Rockies and finished his career in Boston.  Fun stuff, for sure.

His two sons tend to use the very descriptive word "funnest." I think it might apply to Ben's baseball week.

Note to Kids

Kids: If you want to send me an email with a  question or comment about one of my books...the blog is not the place to do that. Instead, click on "E-mail me" at the top of my website. Thanks!

Crisp November weather

Here is Alfie, in his hunting-season garb, so that his white-tipped tail wagging in the underbrush won't be mistaken for that of a deer.

Here's Susan Goodman a few minutes ago, snagging some of the last apples for yet one more dessert.

and here is Alfie again, munching on leftovers.

This is our last day here, and no, we have not spent all of our time cooking--and eating--apple crisps. We have made two fine soups. We have watched four episodes of "Breaking Bad." And we have both worked.  Hard. Susan started a new book, despaired of it, was re-heartened, and continues to plug away with vigor.  I returned to one in progress, added a new character and a few new plot elements, and got something of a momentum (which will now stall for a bit while I go home and then to Philadelphia for NCTE). Still, moving forward is always good.

Writers in Pajamas

First, before explaining the odd title to this post; here is the photo of the Literature to Life Award given to me last week in NYC by the American Place Theatre:

As you can see, it is quite lovely, engraved with a passage from THE GIVER.  i went on after that occasion from New York to Chicago, for the opening of the play GOSSAMER, which has received absolutely wonderful reviews. From the photo on my previous post, you can see why: the staging and design was quite magical.

Following Chicago, I went to Albany---more about that trip in another post---and then to the annual Children's Book Fair at the University of Connecticut. There was a very nice dinner, and a chance to meet the other authors and illustrators, plus the staff of the Dodd Center there -- a fine collection of children's literature original materials---and also those hard-workers who run the book fair each year, quite an undertaking.

We visitors all stayed in the Nathan Hale Inn, where at 2:15 AM the fire alarm went off. That was the time and place where, in a misty drizzle, one could observe some of the finest people in the field, in their pajamas.  In my haste to leave my room I left my iPhone behind and so could not take pictures. But illustrator Diane DeGroat did, and threatened to post them on Facebook. I fear they won't be terribly revelatory because it was the traditional dark and rainy night---the only lights from two large fire engines. Eventually we were allowed to return to our rooms; no explanation of what the firefighters found or fought. Could a children's book author perhaps have been SMOKING! Yikes!

One more photo---a Martha Stewart sort of photo---because I am now in Maine, and have picked some last apples in hopes of creating a dessert.

My friend, writer Susan Goodman, is here with me for a few days of uninterrupted work. Well, maybe interrupted by apple-crisp making.

What did Littlest look like?

Behind her, Thin Elderly, her mentor. And behind him, The Heap.

Break a Leg!

The opening performance of "Gossamer" at the Adventure Stage Chicago was an absolute treat: the staging, costumes, set, and the individual performances all went together so smoothly and made for a magical 90 minutes and a completely rapt audience.

These couple of pictures are dreadful because I was using my iPhone while sitting on the stage afterward, with no light in some areas and too much in others. But here, photographed badly, is Toby, the dog, operated by Kasey Foster, who brought a semi-puppet to vigorous and endearing life:

And here is the entire cast sitting on the edge of the stage, answering questions from the audience:

In the foreground is Susan Veronika Adler who played the foster mother with compassion and restraint. I'm sorry that you can't see Victoria Abram-Copenhaver, who played the boy, John, an 8-year-old child damaged emotionally by abuse. Victoria is small, and to be honest, I thought she was actually a young boy until, post-performance, she removed her baseball cap and they announced her name. Wow. She went from swagger to heartbreak in the role.

You CAN see "Littlest" in this photo, seated in the middle of the group with her pale blue legs dangling. She is Elizabeth Birkenmeier, and this was her theater debut in Chicago---she has been performing Shakespeare in St. Louis till now.  Remember her name because you will hear it again. She captured Littlest exactly: her innocence, her impetuousness, her energy and curiosity, her gradual maturation and her compelling charm.

No room to list everyone but they all were wonderful, and my thanks go to Brian Bell who directed the play and made it work so well.

*****

I came home to find a package of books which at first seemed somewhat mysterious. Translation copies are always sent to me, and at first glance this appeared to be "The Giver' in Spanish, but with a girl's picture on the jacket. Take a look:

But on closer scrutiny I realized that it is THE GIVER, Book II: Gathering Blue.  Hmmmm.  I had heard that THE GIVER has become wildly popular in Spain----so clearly they are capitalizing on that---and why not? Presumably they will soon send me THE GIVER, Book III: Messenger.

I have yet to photogaph the incredible award they gave me in NY Tuesday night, from the American Place Theatre, but will get to it next, thereby rounding out a series of narcissistic posts.

Lots of waiting mail to be dealt with, and then the Patriots/Dolphins game at 1.

That Toddlin' Town

Now I am in Chicago, staying at a B&B called Ray's Bucktown B&B, subtitled o its business cards "Not Your Parents' B&B"---of course what Ray, the proprietor, doesn't realize is that I AM my parents, or even my grandparents.

I don't know this city well, or its neighborhoods, but "Bucktown" seems to be a funky/artsy neighborhood, and therefore, I suppose, would not be the choice of those "parents" accustomed to The Four Seasons. But I like it. Tonight I am on my own and walked around checking out the restaurants, looking for a place to eat, and ended up in one named BRISTOL, about two blocks from Ray's. The list of entrees was daunting enough that I photographed it with my iPhone:

I was not adventurous---okay, I was a coward---and had the chicken. The pig tail was tempting, though.

Then, back in my room, I signed a batch of posters for tomorrow's play:

They had already been signed by the crew and cast. Tomorrow will be a preview performance, with the opening on Saturday. "Fanciful staging," it says on the poster. Can't wait to see what that means!

Before I left New York, I had lunch yesterday with Jules Feiffer. He and I have done a book together which will be published in the spring---and he has several other things due out this spring, including a memoir, which he gave to me in advanced-reader's-copy form. I love Jules. He's a sweet, honest, funny man. All of that on top of his immense talent.

To NYC tomorrow

I got home yesterday frm Keene, NH, after a busy Saturday at the Keene State College Book Festival, which David White has been running for---I think he said 38 years. (Can that be? He isn't old enough, surely!) I have been several times before, and it is always fun, with an enthusiastic audience  (500 this year) and varied, always interesting speakers...(this year surprisingly, all female: Katherine Paterson, Jane Yolen, Lita Judge, Beth Krommes, along with me.)  A squirrel performed a self-immolation on a transformer and caused a power outage of an hour or so but everyone re-grouped and made the best of it. And dinner was roast beef, not barbequed squirrel, despite many jokes about the possibility of the latter.

Tomorrow I head to NYC and here, lifted from the newspaper there, is why:

The American Place Theatre

The Giver: Theatrical Premiere And 2009 Literature To Life Award Event

Tuesday, Nov 3 6:30p at Museum of Jewish Heritage, New York, NY

The Giver: Theatrical Premiere and 2009 Literature to Life Award Event Presented to author Lois Lowry by David Kener, Executive Director of The American Place Theatre; Performed by Melissa Center; Adapted and Directed by Wynn Handman Current educators are invited to join celebrated author Lois Lowry as she experiences her powerful book, The Giver, come to life in the renowned Literature to Life  tradition. This American Place Theatre world premiere follows the story of twelve-year-old Jonas, who as a member of a seemingly ideal world, has been selected to receive the memories of a far different past. Following the one-hour solo-performance, Ms. Lowry will receive the 8th prestigious Literature to Life Award; past recipients include Sue Monk Kidd, Frank McCourt and Ray Bradbury. Audience members are invited to stay for a light reception with the author and artists following the premiere.

Wild Rumpus

Well, I have now seen "Where the Wild Things Are"  Everyone I had talked to had a different opinion---reviews are mixed---and I went at it with an open mind.

The little boy playing Max was wonderful.  And the visual effects spectacular.

But I have to admit I didn't like it.  I wanted to. It has been a great favorite of my younger son, who still, in his 40s, treasures his childhood edition which, many years later, Maurice  signed and decorated for him.

But my son now has two sons of his own. I was thinking of them when I watched the film. And I felt they would be bored and puzzled by it.

As I was.

Getting ready for winter

My gardening crew---all women---were here today, putting everything to bed, covering things with mulch, getting ready for, ugh, snow.  I've had Lucia and her crew working here for the past 8 years and I love how strong they are, how tireless, how cheerful.

My own daughter, my younger one, runs a business that is usually done only by men. She removes paint from various things but specializes in antique cars. So she is trim and strong as can be and very proud, rightly, of being an expert at such a demanding job.

It is very cool to see women loving hard work and doing it well.

And speaking of women: today is my granddaughter's 16th birthday. And darn it, the gift that I was so excited about sending her...which was mailed 3 weeks ago to Germany...has not arrived yet. Martin and I are going over there late in November, so we can take a duplicate if it has been lost in the mail. But I suspect it will show up in a few days. It's just disappointing that it wasn't there for the big day. More for me than for her!  Hiss boo to the postal service.

Today was not a full day of work because I was feeling kind of crummy with this cold and ended up napping this afternoon.  Did the trick, apparently, because this evening I am feeling pretty good and suspect that I'll be fine tomorrow. And they are predicting rain, so it won't be tempting to go outside...  I'll get lots done.

(And that last paragraph is why blogs are boring).

up north

I drove up here, to Maine, yesterday, listening to the Patriots on the car radio en route, and arriving at just the time of day on a late fall day when the shadows are long and seem almost golden in the reflection of the trees. The lake water is deep blue and the air is crisp.

I am snuffling with a cold but that's okay because I have no commitments this week, no one to sneeze on, no speeches to cough through. I came to spend the week alone, working. And this morning I opened up one of the three manuscripts that have been in the throes of neglect, and started in.

It seems odd to be here without the dog---I think it's the first time. And I'm aware of it when I walk from one room to another, and realize nobody has gone on full alert (She's leaving the room! I must follow!) And when I drove into town to get a newspaper, no one ran out and stood by the car, waiting to jump in.

I left him home both to keep Martin company but also because I will go from here on Friday to Keene, NH, to speak at the annual Children's Book Festival that Keene State College has held for many many years. I've been there twice before.  By then my cold should be over and done, and I'll be able to enjoy being back at Keene. Katherine Paterson will be there, and Jane Yolen. The person I will miss anew is Trina Schart Hyman, who was often at that festival and is so fondly remembered there.

Last night my son and a friend came up from Portland and took me out for dinner at a Main Street restaurant. But now that I am alone I will rely on leftovers (doggie bag from last night, plus a mountain of rigatoni-with-sausage-and-canellini* I brought from home) and not bother with cooking.

"Where the Wild Things Are" is on at the local theater and if I get enough work done, I may reward myself late in the week by going to see it.

*I'm trying to remember the name of the wonderful cookbook---one word, starts with S---Ah, yes! STIR! Great Italian recipes---from which I made that the other night, in great quantities.

sniff sniff

This is Alfie. And this is the door leading to our garage fro a sort of mudroom off the kitchen.

No, Alfie does not want to go into the garage. But he is smelling something that is underneath the garage, or the mudroom.  We can't smell it. But it is driving him crazy. He is spending every possible moment standing in this place, nose to the floor, occasionally woofing.

Once, a number of years ago, before The Alf was born, we did have a skunk under the garage. We paid a man $500 to come and trap that sucker.

I don't think this is a skunk, though. We smell nothing remotely skunkish. 

I have just put Alfie into the front yard, and I have washed the floor of the mudroom and the bottom of the garage door with ammonia. No, this will not rid us of whatever is living under there. But it MAY make Alfie stop obsessing about it.

Hope, hope.

brag brag brag

This is my youngest child, my son Ben, who is an attorney in Portland, Maine, and the father of my two grandsons who are almost 9, and 11.  It has been a long time since Ben was a college athlete and baseball star.  But he has, for years, enjoyed playing on local teams---this last summer in an over-30 league. He had quite a record this last season and as it turned out, ended up with a batting average of over 600, and placed #8 in the nation for teams of all ages. He has just been notified that he is to represent New England in the over-30 World Championship in Florida, where teams from all over the world will compete for the title over four days in mid-November.

Fun! Yay, Ben! We'll all be rooting for you!

 

Rhode Island once again

The September that I was seventeen years old, I arrived alone by train in Providence, Rhode Island, to begin college. There had, earlier in the fall, been a large hurricane that had flooded downtown Providence, which was still cleaning up and recovering. So it looked pretty crummy---and in truth, after it was cleaned up, it still looked pretty crummy in those days. I was happy to head uphill to Brown University, which was NOT downtown, and which even back then had an attractive campus surrounded by historical residential areas.

"The HIll," as it was---and still is---called, has not changed much. But downtown Providence is very different from the shabby, downtrodden look it had in the 50th.  MUCH upscaled and improved.

On Friday I got off the train once again, this time to attend the Rhode Island Book Festival which is always held at Lincoln School.  I have been to it twice before in its 20 years of existence, and it is always a pleasure to return and see the excitement about books that it generates.  One of the pleasures of such events, for me, is always the chance to see, sometimes once again, sometimes for the first time, authors and illustrators whose work I admire.  This year, the guests at the festival were Etienne Delessert, Mary Downing Hahn, Mary Ann Hoberman, Jerry Pinkney, Brian Selznick, Anita Silvey, Chris Van Allsburg, Padma Venkatraman, Paul Zelinsky, Christopher Paul Curtis

I copied that list from the website of the festival and now for the life of me can't get it smaller. But what the heck. All of those people are stars and deserve a big font.

Here's a photo of me with Paul Zelinsky

Next trip (tomorrow) is to Rochester, NY, to be writer-in-residence at Monroe Community College for a couple of days. It will be a wonderful time, I know. But when I look at the calendar I always wonder how on earth..or why on earth...I said yes to so many things.   Jerry Pinkney, yesterday, made a good suggestion, when all of us were describing similar concerns.  He pointed out that when we (he included himself) receive an invitation for a time in the future, we look at the calendar and think, "Oh, I'm free then" and we say yes.

We say yes so often that we end up with little time to do out actual work. His suggestion---a good one---is that we should write WORK on (many) calendar days. Then we would not be so easily deceived into thinking we aren't doing anything on that date.

Now if only I had a calendar for 2010 or 2011 in front of me!

I'd better check the weather there, since a sudden October snow took us by surprise in Massachusetts yesterday. It seems to have taken the Tennessee Titans by surprise as well, but not the Patriots, who absolutely wiped them out. Tom Brady threw 5 touchdown passes in one quarter alone. But who's counting?!

small hands

I just came across, in my computer, this drawing, done by my older daughter, an artist, of her brother's hand and that of his new baby. That baby's birth announcement contained a line from e.e. cummings: nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

That baby is now eleven years old.

But here he is at two and a half, when his little brother was born, and here is THAT birth announcement:

 


 

Literature to Life

It appears that his event is sold out. Sorry!

Eat your heart out....

...ANYPLACE THAT IS NOT NEW ENGLAND IN OCTOBER!

My son just sent this from his weekend at Moosehead Lake in Maine...

Every single day??!!

An article in this morning's NY Times tells of a woman who has taken on a self-imposed challenge, to read a book a day for a year. Not surprisingly, she reads quickly, as I do (the misfortune of that for me, is that I don't retain a lot of what I read)  Thinking about it, I went to my KIndle and counted the number of downloaded books---170; and that list began in March, 2008, so those 170 books were over the course of 19 months.  Math time: That comes to about 9 books a  month.  Then, of course, I also read "real" books, and I have no way of counting those. I'm going to guess those came to another 4 books per month. That's a book every two and a half days. Sounds about right.

Also in the NY Times, today...this in the on-line version---a video about a family in Pakistan, displaced from their home in Swat during the Pakistani Military action against the Taliban,  The father ran a school for girls, and his daughter was a wonderfully articulate (and fluent in English) 12-year-old. She spoke of the frustration of having nothing to read, when she was being moved from household to household as the family looked for safe places to stay.

Just yesterday I had two 12-year-olds here, Martin's twin granddaughters (they'll be thirteen at Thanksgiving)---one talked of how much she loved "Hunger Games," which I had given her on her last birthday, and now loves its sequel (Darn. I had bought it and put it away for her coming birthday, but she's already read it)

And Saturday, in Maine, I had breakfast with my own two grandsons, and they talked about what they are reading (all my grandchildren know what topic interests me most)..the 11 year old boy is in the middle of the Spiderwick Chronicles, and the 8-year-old absorbed in Stone Fox.

And me? One of my 13 books this month?  BROOKLYN, by Colm Toibin.

This is, I suppose, TMI.

Another Opening, Another Show...

Adventure Stage in Chicago has recently started rehearsals for "Gossamer" and this is from their blog:

There's something incredibly powerful about assembling a group of people in a room around one idea. Tuesday night was the first rehearsal of Gossamer, and we had tons of incredibly talented people (actors, designers, directors, technicians, staff, etc.) all on stage sitting around a giant table, talking about the show and how it would look. After touching base with all of the actors and introducing ourselves, there was a gigantic design presentation with visuals of the set, the costumes, the lighting and the puppets. We heard clips from a very exciting sound design, and saw projections of images that will be used to support the story.

But by far the most exciting part of the evening was the read through that followed. It was amazing to be able to hear so many talented actors bringing the story to life, even while still sitting at the table. After seeing the design elements, and all the possibilities, hearing the play read out loud made it take on a new life. Afterward, everyone left the space feeling energized and excited to start work on this show.

I will be out there in November to see the show. I've already seen it in Portland, OR and in Milwaukee (and will again in Philadephia in spring 2010) but it is newly fascinating each time because different directors bring their own vision and imagination to it.

Quoth the Raven

Well, the Ravens didn't slink off the playing field muttering "Nevermore" yesterday, but they DID get beaten by the Patriots, and I was right there on the 50-yard-line enjoying every minute.

This photo (pre-game) shows nothing except how very good my seat was. Many thanks to the Kraft family, who own the Patriots, and who have an almost-11-year-old granddaughter who is a book-lover.

I remember high school football games from my adolescent years (until I went to an all-girls school for my final two years of high school) and I remember being COLD. Games were on Friday nights and thogh we bundled up, it seems in my memory as if my feet always froze.

When I was in junior high school, in Tokyo, my older sister's boyfriend was a football star. Funny, I remember that his number was 41----that goes back 60 years!  The games were played in Meiji Stadium, in Tokyo, which had been built for the pre-war Olympics; and during the summers we swam almost every day in the Olympic pool there---I seem to remember that we could walk there from our house, but I could be wrong---maybe we took some sort of bus. Even as kids (I was 11, 12, and 13 in Tokyo) we made our way everywhere by bus and train, and sometimes bike, very easily and safely.

During spring vacation, and also again one summer. I went alone by overnight train to the city of Kure. A friend of mine from Tokyo had moved with her family down to an island called Eta-jima in the inland sea, very near Hiroshima, and reachable by boat from Kure. Her family met my train, I suppose, and took me over to the island for a lengthy and wonderful stay.  Just a couple of years ago, reading the terrific novel "The Great Fire" by Shirley Hazzard, I recognized the island of Eta-jima as part of the setting, though the author mis-spelled its name (I emailed my friend Allen Say, who spent his childhood near there, to corroborate the fact of the mis-spelling I suspected).

I just looked online, googling Eta-jima, and came up with photos that transport me back in time. The village on Nagako, on the island: 

I would not have been looking for BEER as the sign says, not at age 12---but I certainly wandered and out of all the shops. And here is the ferry to and from Kure; I was a passenger on it many, many times:

 

But now I have wandered down memory lane way farther than anyone would possibly want to follow me!

October in Maine

This is such a gorgeous time of year in New England and I wish I could have stayed up in Maine longer, but had too many trips to make this fall. (And a Patriots game to go to tomorrow!)

But my son took his two boys, 8 and 11, and three mountain bikes, up to Acadia National Park for the weekend. (Luckily they have a hotel with an indoor swimming pool because the weather forecast was for rain today).  For those of you who don't know Acadia---or haven't watched the Ken Burns series on National Parks this week ---it is one of the truly beautiful places in the USA, maybe the world; and we have several billionaires, including John D. Rockefeller, to thank for its existence.

Apparently the guys are undaunted so far by bad weather because my son just sent these two photos from his iPhone:

Now I will start sound like a travelogue. But I assume they will go (probably by car, not bike), weather permitting, to the top of Mont Cadillac, the highest peak on the north Atlantic seaboard, and the first place to view sunrise in the USA.

(They didn't take this photo, not in the rain. I got it off the internet)

I plan to get up to the farm the end of this month, to get some uninterrupted work time, and to see the last of the foliage before everything turns brown and gray and stark, and the sound of rifles will mean that deer hunting season is  in full swing.

UPS has just delivered a small package which contains the ARCs (advanced reading copies) of my next book, coming in the spring: The Birthday Ball, with Jules Feiffer's charming illustrations.  No profundities in this book, no thought-provoking passages, just pure fun. A romp. Here's a peek: