May-cation

Hello, readers!

Remember back at the beginning of April when I said I was going to get my act together? Yeah... about that...

To make a long, whiney story short, I've had a lot of unexpected things going on the past few weeks and have finally gotten to the point where I'm stressing enough that I need a break. I'm not saying I won't be posting, writing, or submitting at all for the month of May... just that I'm not going to hold myself to my normal schedule. May was going to be a wierd month anyway, between family stuff coming up and Elianna being out of school for half the month before her little camp starts up in June.

In any case, I'm hoping and I can come back restored and refreshed in June.

But before I leave, I did want to drop some updates for you. My followings online have increased per below:

Facebook: stayed 101

LinkedIn: from 77 to 80

Twitter: from 43 to 58

Damn, Twitter! Keep on keepin' on : )

Peace out, y'all. See ya soon.

Special Throwback Thursday: The Baldur Blogs

A day late for National Puppy Day, but oh, well...

Since I alternate weeks, this will be my last Throwback Thursday before the anniversary of Baldur's death on April 3. I was debating whether or not to share some of my posts about him - some are light-hearted and some are sad. But yesterday, I had a really bad headache (weather and allergies) and I lay down to take a nap for a while. At one point, I heard Athena chewing on her feet... except that when I woke up and sat up to pet her, she wasn't in the bed. She hadn't come upstairs.

Now, is it possible I was hearing things? Yes. Is it possible I was dreaming? Of course. But there's a belief that when you dream of the dearly departed it means they have come to visit you - and it would be so in character for our sweet boy to come check on me when I felt bad.

So here I have collected a series of tales of Baldur the Beautiful, Baldur Spleen-Slayer. Come keep his memory alive with me.

One of the best days of my life was when this boy picked me out and said in his sweet, sad-Corgi-face way, "I want you to be my Mommy."

Jason and I came back to pick up our boy and to hear what the vet had found. It wasn't good.

We are preparing for the death of our first fur baby at the same time as we are preparing for the birth of our first human baby.

Remember when Notre Dame Cathedral caught on fire? Shouldn't that have been The Story of the Decade?

We started blaming things on Baldur’s ghost.

It's a place of honor, and place where he can keep an eye on his baby sister. And the thing is... we think he does.

Some days it helps to remember my sweet fuzzies.

Elianna still has her brother to comfort her.

Imagine a Great Dane the size of a small horse looking down at this coffee table sized dog with a confused, "Do I know you?" expression.


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Writer's Block or Pandemic Fatigue?

Guys, I think I'm having a little bit of an existential crisis about my writing.

I've really been dragging my feet about it the last couple months. The idea of finishing and publishing a novel seems daunting, not inspiring. Looking for places to submit my short stories seems tedious and not worth the effort.

I've been "supposed" to be working on Brinyor since November, but find I keep delaying rereads and editing in favor of making a map I probably won't use, in depth costume research I probably don't need, in depth linguistic name research that I'm probably the only one who cares about it...

I've been "working" on Brinyor for ten years - Wolf and Sheath, and BrightFire for twelve and eleven years, respectively. (I guess I should quit thinking such uncharitable thoughts about George R R Martin, huh?)

Maybe it's the pandemic fatigue talking - here we are almost two years in, and we just had another exposure scare. (I guess I shouldn't complain - I know a lot of people who have had it; I know some people who have had it twice.) I was supposed to be getting back into things, being productive, now that we're through the holidays and Elianna was going back to school (prior to quarantines and lack-luster ice storms).

I just don't feel the drive. Some people get up in the morning and they HAVE to write, like they have to breathe. Most successful authors will tell you "you have to write every day." I'm definitely not doing that right now. People say, "If you REALLY want to do something, you'll FIND the time, you'll MAKE the time." But you know what I'm making time for? Naps. Admittedly, I have never been ambitious about ANYTHING, so maybe this isn't such a big change. But I am starting to wonder if I'm wasting my... time? Time may not even be the right word, since I'm not even spending that much time on it right now.

But if I don't write, if I'm not a writer, what am I?

(It's an open answer, possibly even a rhetorical question, and in no way meant to be a downer. I've just been rolling this all around in my head recently.)

...though Jason is feeling the same way about some of his leisure activities, so it helps to know I'm not the only one.


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A Comedically-Malfunctioning Vacuum Cleaner

What constitutes "age appropriate?" It's different for each kid, isn't it?

Take Elianna, for example. She's almost 2 1/2. She loves dinosaurs. She watched the last season of Camp Cretaceous with us and was never bothered by snarling dinosaurs ("Whatchu DOIN', dinosaur?!") or by antagonistic robots ("robot dinosaur!"). She occasionally sees snatches of Jason's video games; once, recently, having the bad timing to walk into the room as one character hit another and knocked him out. ("Guy fall down?" "Yes, a mean man hit him and he fell down. That's why we don't hit." "We don't hit. Guy fall down, take a nap.") But we were watching a different show with a comedically-malfunctioning vacuum cleaner and she started screaming.

Or, take, for example, the fact that when I was eight or so, the Giant Mouse of Minsk from An American Tale gave me nightmares. When I was ten, I had three months of rabies-based nightmares and paranoia (I would NOT sit with my back to an open door for fear a rabid rodent would creep in and bite me) after reading Old Yeller... but only one year later I was watching Jaws (and Shark Week) and reading Jurassic park without issue.

Every kid is different and, moreover, what bothers every kid is going to be different. A young child may be scared by something innocuous, but not bothered by what you would expect. A middle schooler may completely miss a reference to sex or violence, but be traumatized when the dog dies.

When I worked in the children's department at a local library, one of my favorite patrons was an 11-year-old who reminded me a lot of myself, both in the volume of books read and in genre choices. She'd come in every other week and make a beeline for me, asking, "What's new? What's good?" She had burned through most of the juvenile-level books and was mostly out in the Young Adult section. She could have asked our adult reference librarians, who were technically over YA.

I don't know if it was just because we had developed a rapport, or because I was the youngest full-timer there (I was 30, and looked younger, and I'm also quite short), or if it was simply because we had the same interests - fantasy and adventure, with an occasional dash of history or sci-fi. She was very mature as far as reading level and vocabulary, and she, like I, loved doorstopper tomes. She hauled a huge black vinyl bag with her to stuff all her books into (she often checked out close to a dozen and, yes, did read most of them in two weeks). It became harder and harder to find things that would interest and/or challenge her that would also be "age appropriate." After we had been doing this for a while, I started to ask her, "are you OK with this, are you OK with that?" As young as she was, I still tried to avoid things I knew to have more sexual content. I recall one time I weighed the pros and cons of giving her a book I'd just finished that I had really enjoyed.

"It's kind of dark," I cautioned. "The main character gets put on trial for witchcraft." I paused, sizing up this even-shorter-than-me bookworm. "Would torture bother you?"

"I think I would be OK," she answered confidently.

"Would it bother your parents?"

She shrugged. "I don't think so. If I got upset, they'd be upset, but I think I'll be OK." Still not entirely sure, I gave it to her anyway. Two weeks later she came back for the sequel.

I bring up these stories because recently there have been more and more school boards and school districts being pressured, or even making rules, to allow parents - one single parent, in some cases - to remove books they don't like from the library. While I do agree that certain books don't belong in school libraries - 50 Shades of Grey springs to mind - I also think that a parent's dislike, mistrust, or even misguided rumor-fueled opinion of a book should not outweigh the expertise of teachers and librarians whose area of study is choosing developmentally appropriate books for a certain age group.

Should I go to Elianna's preschool and demand that they remove any books with vacuum cleaners in them? Of course not. Should my mom have gone to our local library or Blockbuster and demand that no one be allowed to watch An American Tale or Old Yeller? Of course not. One parent, one individual, even a vocal minority of annoyed or misinformed people should not be able to make snap decisions on what books hundreds or thousands of students have access to.

By all means, be involved in your child's education. But be aware that just because YOU don't like the book doesn't mean that no one should read it. The book you hated may be the book that finally gets a reluctant reader interested in reading, or may be the book that helps a struggling teen realize they aren't alone, or that helps a child understand an important lesson about the world. Let them read. Or, to quote Finding Nemo:

"I promised I'd never let anything happen to him."

"Well, that's a funny thing to promise - then nothing'll ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo."


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The Toymaker's Apprentice: A Holiday Treat

So... I wanted to make this post earlier. (Heck, I wanted to finish the book on Christmas, but it ended up being the 27th.)

When I checked out Flygirl, by Sherri L. Smith, I noticed that she had a book entitled The Toymaker's Apprentice. From the seven-headed, seven-crowned mouse on the cover, I knew it was about/based on The Nutcracker. For those of you that may not know, I was in The Nutcracker four times as a kid. The full ballet is one of my very favorite pieces of music EVER. Y'all... I had to read this book.

Now, first of all, I want to say that this book is based on a 200 year old novella and a 120 year old ballet, so if I spoil the ending for you, well, that's on you ; )

The Toymaker's Apprentice is the story of Stefan Drosselmeyer, the second cousin of clockmaker Christian Drosselmeyer (who is THE Drosselmeyer from the ballet). Stefan longs for something more than his role as his father's apprentice. His father, Zacharias, is a traditionalist. Carved wooden toys - not clockwork or automatons - are what Zacharias Drosselmeyer encourages. But, reeling from the death of his mother, and the sudden appearance of his enigmatic cousin, Christian, Stefan is hit by revelation after revelation. Christian was banished from his royal appointment! Christian has been charged with curing a cursed princess! The only cure is a possibly-mythical, impossible to crack nut! Christian is being pursued by spies! The spies are mice! And they can talk! The mice kidnap Stefan's father!

Christian, Stefan, and Christian's jailer and friend, the astronomer Samir, set off for far-off Boldavia, to save a princess, rescue Zacharias, and defeat a revolution of mice.

Meanwhile, in Boldavia, the Queen of Mice has given birth to... a son? Seven sons? She refers to them in the plural but, to the shock of her subjects, her newborn has one body and seven heads. Famed rat scholar, Ernst Liszt, has been hired to tutor the... princes?... and even he is very uncertain about the queen's plans for her offspring. She names her sons for famous human conquerors, in hopes this will serve as portentous to their future, and her eventual goal of conquering the humans.

The chapters alternate between Stefan's, Ernst's, and eventually the mouse prince's points of view. Of the seven heads, the central one, Arthur, becomes the dominant personality of his brothers. Gentle Arthur, who wishes to be a scholar, but also wishes to live up to his mother's expectations that he and his brothers will be warriors, strikes up an unlikely friendship with the imprisoned Zacharias. Together, they bond over Zacharias's love for the son he misses - how Arthur wishes he had a parent who cares like this! Arthur's friendship and encouragement helps Zacharias continue the work his captors have designated for him.

Of course, I went into this story know what the ending was going to be... how it HAD to be, given the source material. And yet... I kept wondering, kept asking, how does Arthur go from sweet scholar to dreaded Mouse King, sworn enemy of the Nutcracker? How can Stefan defeat a city filled with countless mice out for revenge? And the answers... oh, the answers. I love a good tragedy. I can't tell you the last time I've read such a sympathetic and tragic villain as Sherri L. Smith's Mouse King. And the final interaction between the Mouse King and the Nutcracker, between Arthur and Stefan - two BOYS who love their parent and would do anything for them. Glorious. A real Christmas treat.

Read this book if you are a fan of: The Nutcracker; Young Adult or Middle Grade fantasy or adventure (like Terry Pratchett's YA novels? This is for you); Harry Potter; The Ranger's Apprentice series; The Colossus Rises, by Peter Lerangis; coming of age stories; steampunk (I mean... this is more clockwork punk, but I don't think that counts as a genre...; The Larklight series; retellings of classics/fairy tales; historical fiction; talking animals...seriously, y'all I could make a whole readers' advisory list.


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It's Not Trash - It's Art Supplies

OK, y'all - confession time. I'm a paper hoarder.

I keep scrap paper. I use old emails and letterhead to print coupons or drafts. I keep gift bags. I have a big stash of large scraps of craft paper and magazine cutouts. I almost got rid of the last of these when we were cleaning and reorganizing when I was pregnant with Elianna... but ended up keeping them because I knew that in a couple years I'd want to start doing art projects with her.

Part of this comes from when I worked at a public library during the recession. We had NO BUDGET. Any piece of paper that could be reused was. Anything that wasn't meant for public use was printed on the back of previous printouts. Old summer reading folders were cut up for scratch paper for the public (you know - you walk in, you jot down the call number so you can go find your book).

I got a full-time job in the children's department of the busiest library in the county just as we were starting to get just a wee little bitty bit of of supply budget back. I got $100 - to last for craft supplies for a year.

In a way, it was a fun challenge. What can I do with the craft supplies we already have in the closet? What can I do with faded construction paper instead of throwing it out? What can I do with the legal sized printer paper no one uses anymore? With the magazines that aren't sent to be bound or aren't sent to the book sale? For that matter, what are my coworkers throwing out that I can use? Give me your Kleenex boxes, your toilet paper rolls, your scraps of Christmas wrapping paper! I went dumpster diving in the office recycling bin for colored copy paper and lean cuisine boxes. And we made some really fun crafts, if I do say so myself.

But talking about craft projects reminds me that it actually goes back farther than the library. My mom was a Sunday school/Bible school art teacher, then a pre-school teacher, then a free-lance art teacher. She saved toilet paper rolls and those little green plastic baskets strawberries used to come in. She saved egg cartons. As an art teacher, we couldn't throw away my dad's lactose-free milk cartons after Halloween because my mom needed them as the base of the gingerbread houses her class would make in December. You threw away bubble wrap? How dare you! "That's not trash, it's art supplies!" was a constant cry in our house.

Recently, I joined a couple groups on Facebook focused on repurposing and reusing things with a mind to sustainability. One of my fellow group members proudly posted a picture of her stash of Christmas bags saved from previous years. I commented with a picture of my own even larger stash, and the caption "look upon my bags, ye mighty and despair!" It was well-received.

So now, here I sit: in the next room is my daughter's Christmas tambourine that I made with her class using rings of Coke cans. On my desk is, admittedly, a fresh notebook and smaller notepad for jotting ideas and to-do lists (but I will turn those pages over and write on the back). But on the other side of the desk is scrap paper I've doodled poetry on, a map for my book that I drew on the back of an old email, a 2020 planner that will be pulled apart next week to use for scrap paper... oh, yes, and I still have large scraps of construction paper from the cornucopia project Elianna and I made for Thanksgiving.

I also have a bag full of laminated Russian onion dome towers made out of scrap paper... but that's a topic for another post.

Snowman made with: construction paper, crayons/markers, glue, and buttons (supplies we had) and donated fabric scraps (thanks to my mom!). We only bought the marshmallows and pretzels.

Fall wreath made from glue, paper plates we had on hand, construction paper we had on hand (including faded paper that was used for the painted leaves), and donated paint. No supplies purchased!

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What Do You Know About Collection Development?

As many of you know, I worked in libraries for a long time. I am not a librarian, in that I don't have a Masters of Library Science degree. However, despite this, in some of my positions, I was somewhat involved in collection development, under the supervision of a librarian.

First, what is collection development? For sake of a quick and easy answer, it's how libraries decide which books to add to their collection. There is a LOT that goes into it, including patrons' demand and quality of the literature in question.

My first stint at collection development was when I worked part-time in the Cobb Library's genealogy and special collection room. We got a lot of donations. A LOT. Sometimes those books were great; a local genealogist had researched, confirmed, and compiled his family's history going back multiple generations, and offered us a copy of the completed book. Great! Someone else gave us a moldy copy of a county history we already had multiple copies of. Not great.

Moldy books aside, one of the things I did with the donations were to confirm that they were pertinent to our collection - genealogical resources, local (Georgia or Southeastern US) history resources, Georgia authors, etc. Once that was done, I looked them up in an international database to see if another library had catalogued it. If so, I printed this information and left the book for the department's head librarian to confirm as a candidate to add to the collection. Of course, she had additional criteria and made the final call, but in the time that I worked in this department, I helped add over 1,000 books and periodicals to our collection in that way.

When I worked at an academic library at a local university, my CD duties got stepped up a notch. By this time I had been working full time in the children's department at a busy library for a few years, and had much more donation processing experience under my belt, in addition to more understanding of how a healthy library collection grows. I was assigned to a new and recently funded project - creating a "popular browsing" collection for the smaller of the two campus libraries.

I was very excited. The campus I was on housed many of the STEM courses, as well as some niche creative majors like video game design and fashion technology. We had a very diverse population - more international students and non-traditional (23 years and older) undergrad students than our larger sister campus. We had a lot of requests for Sci-Fi, fantasy, anime, and YA books, as well as trendy authors such as George R R Martin (this was during the hey-dey of the Game of Thrones TV series).

As someone who also enjoys Sci-fi, fantasy, YA, and George R R Martin, this was right up my alley. Does that mean that I just ordered my "to read" list and have done with it? Oh, no.

I did a lot of research. I checked best seller lists and looked for announcements of the winners of awards (Pulitzer, Printz, Georgia Book Award, Nebula, and Hugo to name a few). I looked at reviews - not on Amazon, but in resources like Publisher's Weekly and Library Journal - publications intended to help librarians choose which materials to spend their limited resources on.

I made a color-coded excel chart (because, as anyone who has worked with me in the past ten years knows, of course I did). I had so much fun... but I also took it very seriously. I had a small budget, all things considered, and was constantly asking myself, is it worth the eight, fourteen, or twenty dollars to buy this book? Will our patrons read it?"

The opposite of collection development is what is often called "weeding." This means deciding what books to remove from a collection. What? Remove books? No, say it ain't so! Well, I know it sounds shocking (especially if you've read my Banned Books posts), but just as a healthy collection needs to have books added regularly, it also needs to be trimmed occasionally. Think of it as cutting your toenails. Or better yet, like pruning a tree or weeding a garden (which is why I like the term "weeding").

If you have a teenager looking for a book to read and they pick up a copy of a book with a super 80's-tastic cover, as opposed to something trendy and "lit" (am I using that right, you hip groovy cats?) they probably aren't going to read it. A water-damaged copy of a best-selling author is going to sit on the shelf untouched. A computer science student isn't going to get much help from "Computers and You: 1982 Edition." Your collection has to stay interesting. It has to stay in good repair. It has to stay relevant.

In my time at Cobb Libraries, I also helped with weeding which, once I got past the scandal of "you mean we might GET RID of some of these books?!" I found very interesting and even satisfying. Again, I was doing this under the supervision of a librarian. I had certain criteria and certain steps. Sometimes I was given a list of specific titles to pull to look into further. These were either older (potentially outdated) non-fiction, or books that hadn't checked out in a given period of time - usually five years, though sometimes shorter if it was pulling specific copies of books we would have had a lot of. When Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban first came out, the library got dozens of copies due to high demand. But if you have five copies out of 50 that haven't checked out in several years, maybe it's time to consider pulling some.

Of course, the first thing we checked was number of titles at each branch. If a small branch has three or four copies of the same book and there are larger branches that don't have one, you send it to another branch where it might get some new, interested patrons looking at it.

Damage was another consideration. If I pulled a book that was falling apart, missing pages, water damaged beyond minor staining, etc., I checked how many copies we had and usually set it on a pile for the librarian to confirm removing from the system. The exception was if it was the last copy of the book, or if it was a high-demand book (say, To Kill a Mockingbird) and we were concerned about not having enough copies.

And as for outdated, well, let's just say that if Indiana Jones would pick up the book and say, "This belongs in a museum," it should probably be weeded...

Also, weeding doesn't mean "throwing away." Books that we removed that were in good condition were sent to the book sale. Books in bad condition were sent to recycling. Irrelevant material (like bound copies of tech periodicals from the 30's that were available on the library's online database) were sold to film companies to use for props. I know some libraries even use weeded books as craft supplies.

Of course, as you would expect at a public library, sometimes public opinion tries to get involved in collection development - "why won't you add my self-published memoir to the collection?" "when are you going to get some copies of 50 Shades of Grey?" "When are you going to REMOVE 50 Shades of Grey?" This is why many libraries have a collection development team, a collection development policy (often available on the website, or, if not, in print upon request), and a weeding/request for removal policy. This is so when your lowly part-time shelver starts getting these questions thrown at him, he has a group and a policy to refer people to.

Recently I've been seeing more in the news about parents and politicians getting involved in trying to pull certain books from libraries, or bar others from being added. And while, to a certain extent, I do believe that parents should be involved in what their children read, pitching a fit and demanding that a book be removed when you've only read page 39 is not the way to go about it. What do you know about collection development? Where did you get your MLS degree?

Now, like I said, I'm not a full librarian. There are many library professionals out there who were far more qualified than I to choose books to add to a collection. But I like to think I gave it a good, well-educated, unbiased attempt. I even added books, or kept potential weeding candidates that I personally didn't want to read, or had read and hadn't liked. Just because I don't like it doesn't mean you shouldn't read it.

Oh-well-tober

The downside to the timing of Banned Books Week is that since it's always the last week of September (and often a couple days into October), I don't have a good opportunity to post about my October plans and goals in the time frame I normally do. Oh, well.

I've been working on-again off again on updating my platform since March, yet, somehow, it feels like I haven't gotten much done on that. I have fantastic new pictures I need to switch out on all my sites - here, Facebook, and LinkedIn - and somehow have not gotten around to it. I've been dragging my feet on getting a Twitter account up and running.

Additionally, because I've been focusing on the above (have I, though?) I haven't been doing much writing. I have an idea for a cosmic horror short story that's been tickling the back of my brain for a month or two now. I have pieces that are done that I need to be submitting. And, of course there are those three unfinished novels always looking over my shoulder...

In fact, I think what I'd really like to do the next couple months is focus on one of those.

I've been working off and on (very off sometimes) on finishing The Wolf and the Sheath for the last couple years and... while I'm not saying I can't or don't want to work on that one, I also wonder if maybe working on a different one might give me a little freshness and inspiration.

I still don't know what I'm doing with BrightFire. It needs a massive rewrite.

But I do think that I will go back and reread Brinyor. Depending on how it sparks as I reread it, I might do what I did for W and S for NaNoWriMo a couple months ago - go through and make a list of what scenes and transitions I still need, and then spend time each day in November adding a little. No, most likely not the 50,000 words in 30 days/1,700-some-odd words per day - but something.

I'm not saying it will be easy, and it will be the first time trying something like this since Elianna was born. But she's very good at playing on her own, looking at books, even going potty on her own now. In fact, I've been strongly leaning toward converting the downstairs diaper changing station back into a desk. It's in the room that she mostly plays in, so it would be a good place for me to work while she plays, rather than coming up to my office (which is a MESS*) and either trying to keep her from messing with stuff, or keeping an ear out for her while she's across the hall in her room. (Though, honestly, we could probably try her hanging out in her room - she can keep herself occupied with books for quite a while, like someone else I know.)

*Yes, I could clean it. But right now my time limitations are "clean OR write" and I really need to get back to the latter.

One-Star Nudity

(Since this is a very long post, I’ve done some cutaways below. Click on the bold wording to open or close.)

My mom (who is 72, twice a mother, and twice a grandmother) came over the day that I checked out It’s Not the Stork from the library.  It’s a large, colorful picture book. 

“Oh, another book for Elianna?” she asked.  (Elianna* is my two-year-old daughter.)

“No, not yet,” I responded.  I told her about this project – that I was working on a blog about “inappropriate” potty training and kids’ sex education books.  I flipped through the book and pointed out a cartoon drawing of a boy and a girl standing side by side, naked, various parts of their anatomy pointed out and labeled. 

“This is why it’s banned,” I said.  She rolled her eyes.

(*Addendum, while potty training, my husband and I decided to show Elianna a couple illustrations from the book to show her the difference between what naked boys and naked girls look like.)

A few weeks prior, as I prepared my afore-mentioned two-year-old to begin potty training, we had checked out a book called “Once Upon a Potty.”  The little girl in the book stands naked at one point while her mother points out that the little girl has “a pee-pee for making wee-wee.”  My mom didn’t bat an eye when she came over and read the book to Elianna.

I’ve said it in posts before, usually in the context of bare butts for comedic purposes – nudity (no matter how minor or silly) is a really quick way to land your book on the Banned Books List.

My husband listens to a podcast called Is We Dumb?  In one consistently amusing segment of the show, they go through and read one-star reviews on Amazon.  This inspired me to do this with a few banned books.

I honestly expected “Once Upon a Potty” to be on a banned list somewhere, due to the nudity, and was surprised to find that it’s not.  Still, for sake of comparison across age ranges, I thought I would do a one-star review survey of it, as well as It’s Not the Stork! and It’s Perfectly Normal!

(Also, I will be quoting the reviews without correcting for grammar or spelling, which makes me cringe, but sometimes that makes the review funnier.)

Once Upon a Potty – Boy

Vital Statistics:

  • For potty-training-aged children (so, approximately two-three year olds)

  • 5% 1-star reviews

"Caution shows a cartoon bum hole.” Title of a Four-Star Review

“The drawings are antomically correct and uses baby words to describe male genitals. They also felt the need to show a details drawing of the boys bottom when he bends over. There is no way I'm reading thia book to me kid, it feels just plan wrong.”

“This book is WAY too graphic for a child's book! I had to draw underwear w a sharpie on the little boy on several pages.”

“The illustrations are at best unattractive and at worst completely crass. I initiated a refund after getting to page two where little Joshua is bent over, staring at you between his legs with three "eyes".

Admittedly, some one-star reviews were for the cutesie names rather anatomically proper ones, which brings us to…

.....


Once Upon a Potty - Girl

Vital statistics:

  • Also for potty-training aged children

  • 3% one-star reviews

For the girl’s version of the book, there was a lower percentage of 1-star reviews and they were less vehement.  Most of them were complaining about the terms being cute rather than anatomical, but there were a couple who said things like:

“I found this book to be inappropriate. Just be warned that there are pictures of little girl parts. Does there really need to be a pic of her showing us her poo hole?”


It’s Not the Stork!

Vital Statistics:

  • For 4 and up

  • 2% one-star reviews

Interestingly enough, most of the one-star reviews don’t go into as much detail as either of the other books mentioned here.  Some were bothered by the amount of detail and thought it was inappropriate for four-year-olds; others were bothered that there was not more LGBTQ+ inclusion. Myself, I would argue that a book for late preschool and early elementary children specifically meant to be about pregnancy doesn’t need in-depth info on the spectrum of sexualities.  There is a brief mention at the end of the book that there are all kind of families, including families with two dads or two moms.

Really, this one is the only negative review worth quoting:

“Not for children under 10-12 Very inappropriate for small children. Showed the difference between an uncircumcised penis and circumcised, with photos. I thought I saw this was rated 4 and up.” Not photos. Cartoony drawings. It aggravates me when people’s reviews are either inaccurate to the product, such as this one, or in the case of “Once Upon a Potty – Girl” where people, annoyed at the euphemisms for body parts, said that the word “vagina” and “urine” should be used instead of “pee-pee” and “wee-wee” – except that the vagina is NOT where urine comes out. (Hmm, maybe that’s why we shouldn’t be banning books on anatomy…?)

Oddly enough, there was a glowing one-star review by a self-described “conservative Christian” sexual abuse prevention specialist. She praised the book for being just enough, and rated it one-star because “more people read the one star reviews.” Good job, ma’am – way to be genre savvy.

Additionally, while I don’t know if I would say that this passage is appropriate for the youngest kids, I think it was a great way of explaining how babies are made without going into a lot of detail: “When grownups want to make a baby, most often a woman and a man have a special kind of loving called ‘making love’—‘having sex’—or ‘sex.’ This kind of loving happens when the woman and the man get so close to each other that the man’s penis goes inside the woman’s vagina.

Children are much too young to do the special kind of loving—called ‘sex’—that grownups do.”

This passage is accompanied by two pictures: -a man and a woman in a bed, covered by a blanket except for faces, arms, and feet, smiling at each other while little hearts float around their heads. -the bird and bee cartoon characters that provide commentary on most pages making faces and stating “Whew! I’m glad I’m too young for that!”

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It’s Perfectly Normal!

Vital Statistics:

  • Rated 10 and up

  • 28% One-star reviews

“It’s Perfectly Normal has been a trusted resource on sexuality for more than twenty-five years.” – From Amazon description

"Porn total porn and grooming of child for sexual assult. Engire book groom tool for pedifiles. No one should be exposed to this book.” Posted, ironically, by a user calling themselves “Sassy”

"Teachers teach your kid to whack off."

“When it’s time for the “talk”, give your kid an experience like “Passport to Purity” rather than this disgusting book bent on grooming your child into a suicidal victim of today’s degenerate culture.”

“This book is nothing more than a way to groom your children. I can’t believe some schools are teaching from this book for sex Ed! Time to Homeschool! If I could I would have given zero stars!! 🤬Absolutely sucking!” More ironic word choice.

“ Call the cops if this is given to your kids ….make sure your child's school doesn't have this in their library.”
This one – the call to make sure it’s not at the library – is advocating the banning of a book, for those of you keeping track at home.

A lot of these reviews talk about leftist agenda, a “confused generation,” and CRT (critical race theory – I have no idea what that has to do with late elementary, middle or high school sex ed). One review quoted three different Bible passages, in addition to suggesting the audience read the entirety of the Book of Romans.

I totally get it if you think your 10 year old is not ready for this book – or, not for the whole thing, as might be the case for a young child and It’s Not the Stork. But that doesn’t mean that 1. It’s a terrible book that deserves a 1-star review and 2. That NO ONE should read it.

Also, having checked out and perused the book myself, I personally see no issues with it. My husband and I discussed whether it was appropriate for a 10-year-old. Myself, I erred on the side of “maybe not,” but I also allowed that if a child is asking about how sex works, what “gay” means, what any number of slang terms for sex or masturbation are, that they deserve an age-appropriate answer.

I am most certainly not saying that you should chuck this book at your kid (especially a younger kid) without explanation or discussion. But, honestly, how would you rather your child find out about sex? Look through a child-geared illustrated book with you or a teacher or other trusted adult guiding them, or to rely on locker room jokes and internet porn to find out about sex and sexuality?

And, as with It’s Not the Stork, It’s Perfectly Normal doesn’t suggest you just jump in bed willy-nilly. It has a page with a line of illustrations of new or expectant parents each saying why they thought they wouldn’t or couldn’t get pregnant, but did anyway. It encourages safe sex and discusses pregnancy and STD’s. I’d rather have my daughter know about these things a little earlier than I might think is appropriate than have her stumble into a situation where she doesn’t understand what’s happening and get hurt, get an STD, get pregnant, get raped, etc. (More on that idea when I discuss Speak in a day or two.)

.....


I totally get it if you think your 10 year old is not ready for this book – or, not for the whole thing, as might be the case for a young child and It’s Not the Stork. But that doesn’t mean that 1. It’s a terrible book that deserves a 1-star review and 2. That NO ONE should read it.

Also, having checked out and perused the book myself, I personally see no issues with it. My husband and I discussed whether it was appropriate for a 10-year-old. Myself, I erred on the side of “maybe not,” but I also allowed that if a child is asking about how sex works, what “gay” means, what any number of slang terms for sex or masturbation are, that they deserve an age-appropriate answer.

I am most certainly not saying that you should chuck this book at your kid (especially a younger kid) without explanation or discussion. But, honestly, how would you rather your child find out about sex? Look through a child-geared illustrated book with you or a teacher or other trusted adult guiding them, or to rely on locker room jokes and internet porn to find out about sex and sexuality?

And, as with It’s Not the Stork, It’s Perfectly Normal doesn’t suggest you just jump in bed willy-nilly. It has a page with a line of illustrations of new or expectant parents each saying why they thought they wouldn’t or couldn’t get pregnant, but did anyway. It encourages safe sex and discusses pregnancy and STD’s. I’d rather have my daughter know about these things a little earlier than I might think is appropriate than have her stumble into a situation where she doesn’t understand what’s happening and get hurt, get an STD, get pregnant, get raped, etc. (More on that idea when I discuss Speak in a day or two.)

Back to discussing all of these books as a whole: many reviews, especially for It’s Perfectly Normal included statements such as, “I heard about this, so I bought it.”  Why?  There’s a thing called a library. 

Seriously, though.  If you are concerned about a book your child’s school is using or you’re hearing about a book that other parents think is inappropriate, check it out.  Read it for yourself.  If you don’t like it, don’t give it to your child.  If it’s assigned reading, talk to your child’s teacher.  Calmly.  Ask if your child can read an alternate text – and have a pertinent alternative in mind.  Or, if that isn’t possible, talk to your child about BOTH your thoughts and their thoughts on the book.  I’ve read an AWFUL lot of books as a kid that I then re-read as an adult and realize I REALLY didn’t catch on to some things.  You may be reading and understanding an implied thought at an adult level that goes completely over your child’s head.

Special Throwback Thursday: Where Were You?

It was early on a Tuesday morning. The phone rang before my alarm went off, which was aggravating. I was a sophomore in college and overloading on classes - I had been up very late. I ignored the phone.

After the alarm went off, my roommates and I dressed and staggered to the dining hall. I had lemon mint scones, and either a coke or diet coke for my caffeine - I was never a coffee person. My roommates and I sat in an alcove with a window seat.

A friend of ours, also a sophomore, came running up to us, skidding to a stop on the terrazzo floor. He was yelling something about planes and a tower, the pentagon, more planes, a field... I was half asleep and didn't understand - had a new Die Hard movie come out?

"Travis, what movie is this?" I mumbled.

"It's not a movie! It's happening right now!" he yelled and took off to tell others. My roommates and I were still confused. No one else in the dining hall seemed to be worked up. Yet. We went to class.

By the time I made it two buildings over and three floors up, news had spread. I should point out that most of us did not have cell phones; the few that did rarely got reception on our rural, mountain-top campus. But I was on my way to a theatre class, and many of my classmates were a year or two older and had friends who were already in New York. They had heard what was going on. There was a phone in the hallway outside the classroom and many of us lined up to call and check on friends and family.

I remembered that my dad had been planning to leave that morning for a business trip. I couldn't remember where he was going. Panicked, I called my mom, knowing I wouldn't be able to reach him if he were in the air. My mom reassured me - he was headed to Austin, but the plane had already been grounded. He and his coworkers were trying to rent a car to make the long drive back to Atlanta. She had been the one calling early that morning.

In a daze, we finally all congregated in the classroom. No official word had come down yet as to whether to cancel class. Our professor used the morning's event to segue into a discussion of tragedy. After that class we found that there would be no classes for the rest of the day; the school that didn't close for ice storms was cancelling classes.

I walked to the bank, about a mile down the road in our small university town and withdrew $100 (most of what was in my meager college student's account), just in case. I had dressed for the chilliness of the Tennessee mountain morning but was now too hot in my 3/4 length blouse and long skirt. I didn't go to the common room with the TV when I got back to the dorm. I didn't watch the 24-7 new coverage. (No live streaming on our young internet.) I didn't see the towers fall 'til almost a week later. I knew that if I stopped, if I watched it, I would crash, just like they did. I had too much work to do. I had a big paper due at the end of the week. I watched it later, after the Time Magazine special edition had already come in my student mail box.

Tuesday morning. September 11, 2001. I was 19. I was in college in Tennessee. Where were you?

Altos Have More Fun

There's a point in every young actress's life when she wants to be the ingenue. She wants to be Christine Daae, Sandy, Eliza Doolittle, Cinderella, Maria von Trapp. These are all leading ladies - some are lovely damsels, wilting flowers - and they are all sopranos.

And then there's a point when the actress realizes that Reno Sweeney, Rizzo, Velma Kelly, Mame* - the altos - are actually the more fun roles to play. (Yes, of course this is a broad generalization, and yes, it does depend a lot on the play. Tracy, the "ingenue" of Hairspray is still a more "fun" role than Christine Daae.)

*You don't even really have to be a great singer for Mame. Lucille Ball, after many years of smoking, played Mame and basically spoke in rhythm for most of the songs.

When I was a teenager, I wanted so badly to play an ingenue. I wasn't the highest soprano out there, but I had a good range. The problem was, I didn't have The Look. My mom once cautioned me that a role I wanted was one the directors saw as being "pale and frail." Well, I've got the pale down. The frail... not so much.

I go more into that aspect of my time in the theatre in this post.

About the time I hit my early-mid twenties (shortly before I stopped doing theatre altogether), it occurred to me that the altos had more fun. I started auditioning for roles like Rizzo; even though I was technically a soprano or mezzosoprano, I had a decently broad range, so higher altos (like Rizzo) were perfectly feasible for me, from a vocal standpoint, at least.

Driving along in the car sometimes, belting (as best I can, now that my range is more limited) along with Anything Goes, I do kind of wish I could go back and remind myself not to ONLY audition for the leading lady. Sometimes the alto sidekick has more fun.

Giftshop Apocalypse

Hey, wouldn't that be a great band name?

All kidding aside, Jason and I were watching Sweet Tooth the other night. For those not familiar with the show, it takes place in a post-apocalyptic America - so far mostly in the wilderness. In the episode we were watching, two characters come upon a family living in a gift shop/visitor's center at Yellowstone.

That took me back to when I worked in the college book and convenience store at Sewanee (middle of nowhere Tennessee, for those who don't know). I first worked there during the summer when the tiny college town was pretty quiet. Even with my cleaning and stocking duties I had lots of time to just let my mind wander. I kept a notebook under the counter where I would jot down story ideas. One of the ones I had was about a handful of people in a, ahem, small college town in the middle of nowhere, stranded when The End As We Know It comes, and how they survive and make do. One of the first places the characters went was, of course, the book/convenience store for supplies and clothes.

I've actually always been a big fan of the post-apocalyptic and/or dystopian genre. I've had ideas for stories in these kinds of settings since high school, maybe middle school. Of course, the problem I always have is that wherever my characters are holed up is a little too convenient, a little too easy for this kind of setting. They live in the Tennessee Valley and all the hydroelectric plants are still working and cranking out electricity. Or the book store had so much stock that years later they still have what they need. Or the kids who ran away from home just happened to find a pristine (as in, safe to drink) creek that also had fish they could catch. When I was younger I didn't realize these were narrative problems (or at least could be if the story wasn't crafted right).

Seeing the gift shop used in this way in another work made me feel better about it, though. While this does make it seem "easy," looking around at the gift shop, there is still a lot of stock and it doesn't seem very "lived in." The family has an 11-year-old son, but it doesn't seem like they've been there his whole life. While they didn't go into how long they'd been there in the show, it did give me the impression that they hadn't been there long, maybe stumbled across an isolated building no one else had taken advantage of yet.

Of course, it also makes sense that the characters - the parents, at least - would seek out this type of setting. They would look for somewhere with shelter and supplies, somewhere out of the way to make their permanent home. But if they were looking for somewhere like this, how were they the ones that go so lucky? Were they the only survivors in the area? Were they "on the inside" (say, maybe one of them had worked there)?

Because that's the thing - there's got to be more than just, "we conveniently just happen to have food, water, electricity, or a lifetime supply of sweatshirts." I want to know how the circumstances came together for you to ride out the apocalypse in your cozy gift shop.

Everyone's Busy

"How do you get it all done?" my sister, a full-time teacher and the first-time mother of a one-year-old, asked me recently.

"I don't," I, the stay-at-home mom of a two-year old, answered.

"Really?" she asked, sounding relieved. I offered to send her pictures of my absurd piles of laundry. I DID send her a picture of my outrageously-long to-do list.

This morning, my husband asked me what the significance of three stars in front of an item on my to-do list was... seeing as about 3/4 of the list were three star items.

I'm busy. My sister is busy. I don't have time to do things I want to do. I don't have time to do things I need to do. My sister is the same way. Most moms I know are the same way. My husband feels the same way about both his work days, where he spends so much time on zoom meetings that he can't get any actual work done, and also about his weekend projects he's had on his to-do list for years. (Such as installing the doggy door we bought before Baldur died.)

Everyone's busy. Our neighbor is constantly ferrying her teenagers to various sportsball games. My diet program addresses the issue of planning ahead and taking healthy snacks and meals with you so that you don't have to stop and get takeout, in a tone that implies that most people are doing so most days of the week.

Everyone's busy.

I recall a Loony Toons cartoon from 1954 wherein a housewife spent all day running errands, arriving home just before her husband. He asks her if she picked up something for him, and she apologizes that she forgot. He is annoyed, asking what she did all day. We're treated to a rerun of her day, going to the bank and various other outings, in each of which she is delayed or something goes wrong. She cleans the house with a vacuum - "there were ATTACHMENTS to do the work," she narrates, as her past self dumps dozens of tubes on the floor. The vacuum breaks down and she ends up sweeping.

Everyone's busy. Now we have Roombas and better cars and higher speed limits (and I believe the cartoon housewife may actually have been doing errands on foot). We have dishwashers and washing machines, cell phones and voice-activated TV's. We should have more time, right?

It feels like we've always been busy. That 1950's housewife had a vacuum and a dry cleaner and an oven and various electric kitchen appliances. She should have had more time, right?

When I was a kid, I was a big fan of the Little House on the Prairie books. The Ingalls and Wilder families got up before dawn to milk the cows and do other farm chores. The children walked miles to school. Ma was constantly cooking, cleaning, sewing... Pa was often plowing. Laura's first job was a in a tailor's shop. She basted men's shirts. She sewed from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM. She had a break for lunch (which she ate with the tailor and his family). She did this all week - I want to say Saturday, too. She was fourteen.

But those plucky homesteaders had farm tools and kitchen implements. They had needles, thread, scissors, and woven fabric. They had domestic animals and crops. You would think they would have had more time...

I'm currently reading Guns, Germs, and Steel, a book about how societies evolved, but more-so, how societies evolved differently - which societies had easily domesticable animals and plants, and which were hunter gatherers. The author states that you would think the farmers would have it easier, had more food, and more time... but that actually early farmers needed even more time and effort to produce the food they needed than did hunter-gatherers.

We're all busy. We've always been busy. How we define busy changes. The things I've learned from the above books will be helpful to me when writing period pieces... if I can even find the time in my busy life.

How has "busy" changed for you over the course of your life? If you're a fellow writer, how does a character you're currently working on define "busy?"

(By the way, I wrote this while Elianna was taking a rare second nap...)

Put it in Your Pocket

This morning I prepared to meet a friend for a walk. I was packing Elianna's diaper bag, and tucking small things into the pockets of my leggings. (Yes, I have leggings with pockets - they're awesome.) I think that, in conjunction with Elianna's Wonder Woman t-shirt (made to look like it had a little utility belt), made me wonder why utility belts aren't a common thing.

Wouldn't that be fantastic? Haul around all the small items you need without worrying about it falling out of your pockets, or having to carry a purse? I'd love to have a utility belt. I do have a steampunk pouch that attaches to a belt that I occasionally use in lieu of a purse, but I'm talking multiple pockets and pouches on a belt.

There was a story I was going to write back an embarrassingly long time ago where one of the characters had an absurd amount of pockets and pouches hanging off her belt. (I have long since abandoned that story, which was basically Harry Potter fan-fic, for much better stories.)

Last week I was thinking about pockets in the context of writing, too. I posted a writing prompt on my Facebook page asking fellow writers to consider what unique item their character carries in a pocket or pouch. I do like little character sketches and insights like that - what small, defining quirk or characteristic can you come up with for a character you're writing?

Do you have something special, something unique, that you carry with you in a pocket or purse?

Working on "Work"

I'm in a little bit of a slump for blog topics right now. As you know if you read my last post (which you can look at here: https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2021/4/17/feedback-needed ), I'm spending the next couple months working on my online platform.

That doesn't mean I don't have anything going on, just that I've been thinking about technical things ("why did I customize a color on this page? I'll never find it again!") rather than creative things ("oh, hey, I just had a great insight on this character's childhood!").

I'm thinking about LinkedIn and banners, reach and analytics, do I post a link in the body of a post or the comments? Whoo.

It's also kind of interesting that I'm doing this more technical stuff, the stuff that I consider to be more "work." Indeed, there is some crossover in what I used to do in a previous position - and I'm realizing how much some websites and softwares have updated in the four years since I left that position). The timing is kind of funny because just this week I've had two former supervisors from my previous position ask me when I might consider coming back to work with them.

As I was typing this blog and doing the math (ew, math) on how long I'd been gone from that previous position, and how long I'd been gone from the position before that, I realized it wasn't as long as it feels. It feels like Facebook and LinkedIn, Excel and other software, have gone through tons and tons of changes. Maybe that's because I'm not using those office and marketing skills much anymore. Maybe it's just because it feels so long since the years B.C. - Before Child.

In any case, I'm getting back into the technical groove of things and sometimes I feel like I'm careening along at a scary pace... and other days I'm like, "hey, you live Tweeted a made-up sports event on Superbowl Sunday when you worked at a library. You got this."

Traumatic Victorian Children's Books

As some of you know, last week my daughter had strep throat. She's 20 months old, and it's the first time she had a fever (not counting a low-level one after one of her immunizations). She handled it really well - I think because we got on top of it quickly. She came home from preschool feeling warm and when she still felt hot at nap time, I took her temperature and called her pediatrician. Within 24 hours of that nap, she had seen the pediatrician, had a strep test, and started antibiotics. Aside from the fever itself, the only symptom she had was falling asleep on the couch (and really, who among us hasn't done that?)

As some of you may also know, strep throat when accompanied by a rash, is Scarlet Fever. Yes, THAT scarlet fever - scourge of Victorian children's books. In those books, if someone speaks the words "scarlet fever," those who are not yet sick are whisked away to a distant locale to quarantine safely (Little Women) and, while the child lies sick, their belongings are burned (The Velveteen Rabbit).

The Victorians understood how contagion spread, but hadn't yet developed methods of sterilization, aside from the Kill It With Fire Method. Outside scarlet fever and The Velveteen Rabbit, another scene that sticks in my mind is from a film adaptation of The Secret Garden. Mary Lennox has just been told her parents have died of cholera. She drops her doll in shock; a man snatches it up and throws it on a pile of burning items from houses where people have died. I watched as Mary's doll's yellow yarn hair first turned brown, then black, as the doll began to scorch - all while Mary shrieked - "My doll, my doll, no, give me my doll!" paired with a soldier talking over her to another soldier explaining that she doesn't understand.

(To be honest, I can't remember if this scene happens in the book. I watched this film version SO many times as a kid and only read the book once or twice.)

This scene, and the burning of the toys in The Velveteen Rabbit, was very much on my mind last week. Jason brought Elianna back home from the doctor with instructions to throw away her toothbrush and toothpaste after she started her antibiotics, and to wash everything her mouth had come in contact with. In the midst of tossing pacifiers in a mesh bag and putting them in the dishwasher, and putting Brad Foxie, Maddison, Baldur, and Night-Night Bunny into the washing machine, I thought about these traumatic scenes in children's books, and was very grateful for antibiotics and the "hot" setting on our household appliances.

This happy photo brought to you by modern washing machines.

This happy photo brought to you by modern washing machines.

Put the Band on Stage

The past couple days I've been thinking a lot about theatre. Specifically, songs I've listened to have triggered a need to choreograph and/or design. Listening to "Rock Around the Clock," I was thinking about choreography for Grease (particularly egregious, as I turned down an offer to choreograph said show...). Today, driving to Elianna's appointment, my randomizer brought up “Prologue/Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof and oh... my brain wouldn't shut off.

"Hey. Hey!" my brain said, "What if some of the band were up on stage with the rest of the villagers? What if you hid instruments in the props? Have a mama or a daughter with a tambourine disguised as an embroidery loop. And banging kitchen implements! Oh! And have a papa or a son with a xylophone hidden by an anvil!"

And it kept going. I was brain storming all kinds of props - house and farm implements that could be turned into instruments, or vice versa. Thinking about how to costume everyone. Wondering if we could get away with having an alto woman in a beard playing the Rabbi (there are never enough guys for shows). Heck, can we have the whole band in costume on stage?

Then I started thinking about what other shows you could have the band on stage. When I was in college, we did Cabaret and the band was in costume as the club's band. When I was in high school, we did Anything Goes, and the band all had fancy music stands so they looked like the ship's band. They all had a big moment where they reacted to the news that there was a wanted criminal on board. "SNAKE-EYES JOHNSON?!" the whole band cried in unison. And what about Grease? Put all the band in letter sweaters. Or do period marching band costumes.

And, yeah, I know it increases the costume budget - suggesting period marching band costumes is probably not the way to get the producer or director to agree to having the band in costume on stage.

But Fiddler? Yeah, you could probably do it with Fiddler - raid thrift stores for peasant shirts, old "dress" shirts, floppy pants, broomstick skirts, aprons... Grab surplus fabric for cheap to make head scarves for the ladies. Small throw blankets make great shawls. While that's not the most historically accurate way to do it, I feel that Fiddler is one of those that can be costumed partly from what the cast already owns. Which is probably why I see a lot of community theatres doing it.

I just like the idea of including the band in stage when you can - for a lot of shows, I feel that it adds something.

I also think that if I ever were to get back into theatre, I'd likely be doing costuming or choreography. Possibly directing. I have a feeling that if Elianna ends up getting into theatre that I will definitely get dragged back in. Now I'm reminded of the time I did costumes for our high school's production of I Never Saw Another Butterfly. I was also in the show, and was still madly sewing stars of David onto sweaters and shawls backstage during final dress rehearsal. I accidentally sewed my own sweater to my skirt and had to hobble out onto stage clutching my sweater to my knee. Yeah, let's not do THAT again : )

Book Review: Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan

I bought this book in a giftshop in Orkney, after Jason and I saw John Rae's memorial in the nearby St. Magnus Cathedral.  I was intrigued by the idea of an explorer whose work was pushed down and forgotten simply because he reported facts that rubbed the bigwigs in the wrong way.  I had actually been putting this one off for a while, though - another non-fiction book about Scottish history that I picked up on our trip was drier than I had hoped and I was concerned this might be, too.  Fortunately, I was wrong - Oh, my goodness, John Rae was a character!

So, imagine this.  You work hard.  It's a demanding job, but you love it.  You're willing to work with a team, provided everyone does their share of the work; in fact, you generally work even harder than some of the people on your team so that you can ensure success.  You keep asking your supervisor for time off (it IS hard work, after all) and they keep hedging.  Your job doesn't leave you time for a love life and you're not getting any younger. People on your team complain, "that's not my job."  They don't follow your directions and someone gets hurt.  But you finally finish that big project - the one you've been working toward for so long... and someone else gets the credit.  You make honest reports and no one believes you - or worse, cast you as an attention seeker.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet John Rae, mid-nineteenth century Arctic explorer.  He's just like you.  Actually, he's cooler than you, but we'll get to that.

Who watched the TV show The Terror?  It was on AMC a couple years ago and was based on the novel of the same name.  The novel was inspired by the true events of the Franklin Expedition, a mid-nineteenth century British expedition to find the final link in the Northwest Passage.  The book and show take what little we know about the expedition - that the ships were trapped in ice and, presumably, the whole crew died - and expands into some supernatural scariness (and the show in and of itself is worth a watch if it's still available out there).  How did we find out what happened to the Franklin Expedition?  John Rae.

But let's back up.  The book Fatal Passage begins with plucky John Ray, a 19-year-old newly graduated surgeon from Orkney*, Scotland.  He set off for Canada, to join the Hudson's Bay Company.  The HBC was a company of traders and explorers in arctic Canada and had been heavily involved, along with the British navy, in charting as-yet-unmapped areas and searching for a navigable passage from the Northern Atlantic to the Northern Pacific (the Northwest Passage).

*Fun fact - people from Orkney are called Orcadians, which I think is flippin' fantastic.

Rae gleefully spent the next several years getting to know the arctic landscape; learning native hunting, building, and dressing styles; and snowshoeing across hundreds of miles in the winter just for kicks.  He started as a "surgeon" (comparable to a nurse practitioner today) and worked his way up the ranks as a general Jack of all trades, eventually becoming Chief Factor (director) of a major trading post (called a "factory" at the time).  He was well-respected by peers and supervisors, as well as by French fur traders, and native and mixed-race locals.

Not only that, Rae was rather progressive.  He was incredibly vocal in how much he admired the natives' (mainly Inuit, but some Cree, Ojibwe, and other groups) ingenuity, and thought that "half-breeds" (mixed-race European and Native American) were the best men that could be had for any job.  He also made notes in his own correspondence that he does not use the term "half-breed" as an insult, as many do.

Rae was eventually tasked with exploring uncharted coastline in search of the Northwest Passage, which everyone and his brother was doing those days.  Rae usually put together his own team.  It was usually comprised of just as many natives and half-breeds as full-Brits, as they were used to the terrain, the weather, the work, etc.  In fact, the only time he used naval officers that he was told he had to use rather than men he chose was the only expedition in which anyone died - which was EXTREMELELY unusual for 19th century arctic expeditions.  Rae was not only the first European explorer to winter in the Arctic "Native style," but also the first European to winter in the Arctic without losing a member of his team.  Given that his teams were usually much smaller (10 or so hardy men) that the large HBC and naval expeditions (100-200 sailors, often with no Arctic experience), this is really saying something.

Rae relished the work early on.  He loved snowshoeing and hunting - he considered "a long day's march in snowshoes is about the finest exercise a man can take."  He enjoyed living off the land and taking as few supplies as possible.  (This man often slept outdoors in the Arctic on a sleeping skin with one blanket.  I get cold in a 72-degree house with 2 blankets.)  He didn't shy away from doing MORE than his share of the work: shooting the majority of the food his group would eat, taking meticulous weather and geological measurements, trying to thaw his frozen Complete Works of William Shakespeare, and sleeping in his own individual igloo* rather than with the rest of his team for warmth because all the others were smokers.

*The term used in the book is "ice hut,” but I wanted to use igloo this first time to indicate the native-style building.

His most successful journey - the one in which he not only discovered the last link in the Northwest Passage (a strait later named for him) but also was the first to encounter anyone with knowledge of and artifacts from the doomed Franklin expedition. 

Having returned to his summer mooring, after having spent much of the winter trekking around and mapping - he was approached by natives who had cutlery and other items, some of which had very distinct initials and the family crest of Sir John Franklin himself.  He paid the natives well for these items, and interviewed the entire group separately, using his trusted interpreter (even though he himself spoke some of the Inuit language).  They all reported the same thing - a couple years prior (approximately five years after the Franklin expedition set sail) they had seen a group of ragtag white men (none in this group had ever seen Europeans before) dragging a boat like a sled, and heading south.  Later, another group of natives had reported to them that they had found the remains of this group - all dead, but many having been mutilated.  Rae came to the same conclusion as his second-hand witnesses - the last survivors of the Franklin expedition had resorted to butchering and eating their dead companions. 

Torn, Rae debated whether he should return to the area that the Natives had indicated to confirm the story.  But it would require back-tracking quite a long distance (ironically, the strait he discovered was quite close to where the doomed encampment lay).  It was too late in the season for him to make that trek and return while his route back to "civilization" (in this case a rural fort) was still navigable.  Many of the waterways he was using were ice-blocked for 10-11 months out of the year - basically, if you weren't traveling in August you were out of luck. 

In the end, he made the decision based on the state of his team.  Two of his men were very badly worse for the wear - one had frozen off two toes and could barely walk, let along keep up the strenuous pace needed to get to the Franklin crew site and back before winter set in and they had to hole up in ice huts, and hope that they had enough supplies. 

It was a difficult decision for him, but he ultimately decided that he would not risk his men's lives, especially since it was now all but impossible that Sir John Franklin or any of his men had survived.  There were other rescue expeditions out there, too, and they deserved to know the truth so they could also decide how much of a risk they were still willing to take for what now was not a rescue mission, but one to confirm the location of the bodies.

Rae, an honest man who was always meticulous in detailed record-keeping, wrote a very thorough letter to his superiors.  Unbeknownst to him at first, it was then sent to London and published by the Times.  And then... oh, the scandal!  Even though Rae had made clear what had happened, he still euphemized, still skirted using gory language.  He reported that the "the state of the bodies and the contents of the kettles" indicated that the last few survivors had been forced to use "the last resort." 

Still, Victorians knew how to read between the lines and they were most definitely not happy.  What, cannibalism?  Not, not our fine British officers!  The kindest opinions toward Rae were along the lines of, Oh, this poor Orkney yokel, poor naive man, taken in by the lies of the nasty, tricksey savages*. General opinion, however, was even more harsh.  Many speculated that Rae himself fabricated the story to tarnish the reputation of Sir John (who, honestly, was a less-than-stellar explorer and politician anyway) so that he could get the reward money.  Rae hadn't even known there'd been a reward until he traveled to London after the letters had already been published - without his knowledge.

*The assumption that any and all natives will lie whenever they get the chance is something consistently repeated in the articles and letters of the time and is REALLY uncomfortable to read.  Rae, to his credit, defended his interpreter and the natives - going to so far as noting that the one time his interpreter tried to lie about something when he was much younger (Rae had known him for over a decade at this point) that he had been absolutely dreadful at it because he had never lied before.

Chief among Rae's detractors was Lady Franklin, who for years had refused to believe her husband was dead (this news coming ten years after he had last been seen), and of course was appalled at the insinuation that her husband might have been among those final men desperate enough to eat their fellows (documents were found during another expedition that eventually confirmed he had died before the ships had become ice-locked and therefore couldn't have been one of the cannibalistic "survivors").  She continued to send out search parties - funding many of them in large part herself.  She continued to smear Rae's name to the point that several other explorers were credited with his discoveries including, most egregiously, Franklin himself. 

There was quite a bit of arguing of semantics.  Should the discoverer of the passage be the person who found and theorized that passage was navigable?  Should it be the first person to traverse it on foot?  In the latter instance, Franklin's crew was credited for a while on the assumption that they had dragged their boat over the frozen last link in the passage before they died.  Other explorers were credited with finding other passages that would later turn out to not be navigable with nineteenth-century ships.  This is how they treated the man who not long before was their go-to for any Arctic expedition - "Oh Rae's in that quarter, Rae will do that." 

Interestingly, while the British continually tried to downplay his achievements, even question his sanity for "going Native" and using Inuit methods of survival rather than "tried and true" modern techniques, the Norwegian explorers of the same period seemed to appreciate Rae much more - "This guy!  This guy knows what's going on!" (Ok, that's not an actual period quote.)  In fact, it was a Norwegian explorer in the first decade of the 20th century who finally successfully navigated the Northwest Passage, using Rae's route - 50 years after he discovered it, and after so many others had died trying to disprove Rae's journey.

Rae himself eventually retired from the HBC, married, and gave up Arctic exploration.  His last excursion was an exploration of the Canadian Rockies to determine the best route for a telegraph line.  He took his wife along for part of the journey, which was extremely unusual for the time.

Rae was a really interesting guy.  Even after his retirement, he kept active - hunting and hiking.  It was not unusual for him, even in his 70's, to walk 20 miles to the train station.  He lived to be nearly 80 years old.  He kept a massive collection of Inuit artifacts, referring to the native people as "my friends the Esquimaux.*" He was progressive man, a man ahead of his time.  He understood that smoking was unhealthy, and theorized that scurvy was caused by "lack of something [the body] gets from vegetables" decades before vitamins were discovered.  He was a man who respected and admired Native Americans - to the point that he not only paid those on his teams well, but usually provided them more pay than originally contracted once they returned due to how arduous the work was.  He was so progressive that at times while reading the book, I chuckled to myself, "Huh.  Wonder if he was a time traveler."  It kind of wouldn't surprise me.

*We know now that "eskimo" is a Cree slur that means "snow-eater," but Rae didn't know that.

All (actual) quotes are from Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan, who himself is usually quoting Rae's own correspondence.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate.  Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate. Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney.  Rae is buried in the church yard in the back.  No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney. Rae is buried in the church yard in the back. No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.

The Shortest Month

February being the shortest month - and for a couple years in a row it was also the month we had doggy drama going on - I have historically not gotten much done in February. But not so this month! Yay!

First, to address my progress on goals:

-I've stuck well to my writing schedule, with the exception of the week that Elianna's school was out for mid-winter break. (Though that week we did have our physical therapy appointment, so that gave me a free chunk of time one afternoon, which I did make use of.)

-I have submitted two stories for publication, putting me 2/3 of the way to my goal of tree submissions by the end of March.

-This will be my third weekly blog post this month. I did miss a week, and another week I did what was mainly a rehash of an old post. So not stellar.

-While I have not put much thought into what long project to work on next, I did write a new short story this month.

Not part of my goals, but also progress worth noting - I'm starting to get my motivation back. I've been struggling with my motivation to write for probably two solid years now. Two years ago, we found out that Baldur had terminal cancer, so that, of course, killed my motivation to do anything but spend time with him. And of course having a newborn, and then post-partum depression is not conducive to getting things done. I'm also starting to notice that, while winter's lack of light didn't used to affect me, it seems to now. Don't know if this is an age thing, but I've felt very unmotivated this winter, even when Elianna's been in school and after the holiday rush was over. But now that the weather is improving, the days are getting longer... it seems like my motivation is ticking up, so that's good.

In addition to the afore-mentioned short story, I've been thinking about other pieces more, too. Just in the past two days I've gone into great detail with two friends about four stories I'm wanting to write (some longer than others). Just talking about it, getting their feelings and feedback has made me feel good, and made me want to do more. I'm also constantly jotting down notes for a fifth - new - story. (Technically it's not new - I took elements I liked from a problem story and combined them with a new idea that I didn't have a whole plot for, and now I think I have a good, solid plot with much better character dynamics.)

So, that's what I'm up to. What have you crammed into your shortest month?

Wa-wa - Wow!

A few months ago, I wrote a post about Elianna's linguistic abilities and about how she was approaching the age that Helen Keller was when she lost her sight and hearing. Read that whole post here: https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2020/10/25/words-words-wa-wa

I've been thinking about this a lot recently, partly because Elianna's word usage and attempts have really skyrocketed over the past few weeks. She now regularly says "wa" or "wawa" when she wants her water cup. She even says "wow!" a lot.

But what is really cool, and also ties back to the Helen Keller story, is that she's now attempting some of our hand signals we use for Athena (aside from just waving at her). She tries a thumbs up for "good girl" but makes a finger gun instead. She tries "I love you," but looks like she's flashing gang signs. But she's working on communicating and now, on the eve of 19 months, I am so proud of my little girl and still so glad that a simple childhood fever can be treated rather that stealing her from me.

“I love you” in sign language.

“I love you” in sign language.