What October?

I can say without a doubt the last two months have seemed like an eon, replete with all sorts of onerous tasks, wasted time, and and tying of up loose ends. As much as I love Halloween and all the autumn changes, I'm ready for the calendar to turn to November.

The #IBBYNYC Regional was as amazing as I knew it would be. The walking tour with Leonard Marcus, talking about the picture book bohemia that was Greenwich Village not so long ago, was a definite highlight, but I think about all the listening I did -- I heard Lois Lowry talk about falling in love late in life and Chris Radschka talking about Vera C. Williams dying, Susan Cooper being skewered for writing about Native Americans in Ghost Hawk, David Almond sharing his notebooks, translators talking about being funded by supportive national governments rather than publishers -- a whole world of ways of living, the sort of treat that will keep me going. And I managed to see Hamilton, which was as good, and as strange as everyone said it was. A mixed race hip hop musical about the Founding Fathers? Isn't that a Simpsons' punchline? 

Now, I'm in the weeds with award committee reading. If you're more organized than I am, tonight and tomorrow night, the Library of Congress is hosting some interesting online sessions for teachers looking to do more with inquiry, questioning, and primary sources in the classroom. Sign up here.

Acquisitions

I bought three brand-new shiny young adult books this month, and I plan to keep all of them for myself. That almost never happens. But I couldn't resist:

Asking for It by Louise O'Neill,  because Only Ever Yours really was that good. I imported this one.

Most Dangerous by Steven Sheinkin. After hearing the Pentagon Papers bandied about as the whistleblower touchstone in ALA Council chambers, I felt I needed to know more, and Sheinkin is never boring. Now I sort of have a crush on Daniel Ellsburg.

Dumplin' by Julie Murphy, because the ARC rocked my world and I wanted that adorable pre-order pin. Murphy will be in Nashville for the Southern Festival of Books next week, so I'm determined to shower her with the praise she so rightly deserves.

The greatest generation

My husband has some remarkable longevity in his family. Until just a handful of years ago, all of his grandparents were still living. The second of his grandfathers died last week at home. It was expected, but still difficult.

Harry was crazy athletic and physically active well into his late eighties, had served in the South Pacific theater (Guadalcanal), and was one of the first Marines to work with the nascent technology that would become radar. I never knew either of my grandfathers, but since I've been married for almost twenty years, Harry and my other late grandfather-in-law, Barry, filled those roles for me. They were funny, smart and unflaggingly supportive.

Harry was the archetypal patriarch, and a role model for us all. I feel especially fortunate to be a member of such a loyal and expansive extended family through marriage. Now, we will all worry about and dote upon his widow, left alone after seventy years. Hers is a position that seems both incredibly fortunate and incredibly difficult.

Setting a Watchman

I really didn’t want to read Go Set a Watchman. I was in shock, at ALA Midwinter, when it’s discovery was announced. I, like so many Alabamians, was so suspicious. To Kill a Mockingbird is such a part of our culture. What were they doing to Harper Lee’s legacy?

But it wasn’t just OUR story. In Massachusetts, I saw readers clutching their copies the day it came out in July. Will we ever really know the true story behind the discovery? Is it a draft? Is it a sequel? Is it “secondin a series” as the Overdrive metadata asserts? How much was it (and TKAM) shaped by an editorial hand? I would love to see a really talented literary scholar get their hands on those respective manuscripts.

Frankly, I can’t see it as a draft. If the cover didn’t evoke the other, if the authorial name were different, if not for the shared place and personal names, would I have even of connected the two works?

There’s just enough allusion to the “meat” of the Tom Robinson trial, and of Scout’s growing up, for continuity’s sake. But it’s very much about Scout as pubescent, as a teen, about Jean Louise as 1950’s era New York bohemian, about what happens when women in claustrophobic small towns get married. It’s more Shirley Ann Grau or Ellen Gilchrist than TKAM, laced with a much more modern feel. There were passages I loved. The description of the surreptitious ways that people in Maycomb drank was spot-on.

And I think the pre-publishing indictment of Atticus as racist is a little pat. His joining the Citizen’s Council “to keep an eye on things,” him wanting progress, but at a more measured place, echoed conversations I heard growing up, but not from any one with malice in their heart, just people favored by the status quo, people who weren’t cut out to be crusaders. I guess I forgive them, and I forgive Harper Collins, and Tonja Carter.

The opposite of quiet

Reading Quiet this summer was a revelation. Since Susan Cain spoke at ALA Annual, I know I am late to this particular introversion insight. I had never thought of spending time by myself as anything other than a luxury, but Cain made me see it instead as fundamental to my own self-care.

Probably related to that introversion, I spend a lot of time and effort trying to keep a low profile. Maybe it’s because I believe, a la Banksy, in my heart of heart, there’s no such thing as good publicity.

   

But when SLJ asked me to appear on the cover of their tech survey issue, I agreed. It was too ideal an opportunity to talk about some of my favorite cutting-edge technologies. I was tickled to showcase Google Cardboard (my YALSA App of the Week review) because it is so utterly democratizing for VR, and the Sphero because I see the terrific potential for gateway coding through both the drawing and command line interfaces. These are the sorts of things I am super-passionate about but find it difficult to sell to teachers.

So this happened:

I certainly never thought I’d appear on the cover of ANY magazine, and certainly not in my forties. I thought it would be more of a headshot, or I probably would have dressed a little differently, but it was fun. The fact I knew the photographer, one of my husband’s newspaper colleagues, helped.

Anyway, I really appreciate all the kind thoughts from my library world friends. The whole thing makes me feel incredibly shy, like a bit of a spectacle. Conversely, I might be a little weird in that public speaking does not bother me in the least. What does bother me is walking into a party. Even if I know everyone there. Just thinking about that makes me want to take a nap.