A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words…
Probably important words to understand if you are a driver……
Real Life Words #10
April 25, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words…
A favourite, old fashioned kind of store to explore with Bronwen….
Real Life Words #9
April 18, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words…
You have to know where to go……
Real Life Words #8
April 11, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words…
I wonder if this road sign looks the same pretty much around the world…..
March Book List
April 8, 2011 By Leave a Comment
As each month flies by I am constantly sure that I will not achieve the book challenge, rushed for time to fit in everything that a busy life appears to demand. And then without warning, at the end of the month I discover that I have more than met the five books for the month challenge, having read double the number once again.
Ten fabulous books for the month of March, and as I write this in April (still searching for a good computer; code for struggling to find a good computer within my price range!) its not before time that I revealed my list.
The first of two mystery novel from Phil Rickman for the month, and thoroughly enjoyable. This story has paganism at its central core, and I like that the character Merrily Watkins seems terribly human in her struggle to keep the faith in the midst of things that might persuade others that there is no God, or that He is of no significance. Having said that, I’m still not entirely sure (nor do I have the inkling to spend the time researching) whether Phil Rickman is a Christian or not. That’s how well written the books are. No overbearing preachy messages… just mysteries that look at issues that arise from real day life.
This is the first of two” Irish Country” books that I read this month – the library delivers and I read! Its the continuing story of newly minted Dr Barry Laverty working as the assistant to Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly (now there is an Irish sounding name!) in the make believe village of Ballybucklebo. Simple story written by the Irish-Canadian author Patrick Taylor. That’s one thing I find terribly interesting in this Canadian country. Very few people will claim to be only Canadian if they can thrown another country along side of it… French Canadian, Irish Canadian – well here’s hoping that I might be the first Australian Canadians to write a great story!
Santa Montefiore is the kind of writer that I read and weep over; wishing and hoping that I might one day be as glorious a weaver of words as she is. The past with the present written together to unfold the truth behind the garden. Lovely. Visual. Stimulating. Oh, this book was bliss. Blissful enough that I researched more of Montefiore’s works and added them to my wish list at the library. Oh who am I kidding…? I’ve read another of her books already for April and it was just as lovely. I have officially discovered another new author that I adore.
Second dose of single mother, Anglican priest Merrily Watkins for the month. Possession, murder, Romany gypsy folklore and a stubbornly unbelieving daughter… its all there for the enjoyment of a few hours. Really enjoyed the book.
I found this book particularly painful to read as I dealt with the memories of my own ten year battle with infertility and the painful decisions surrounds the reality of frozen embryos lost in the misery of divorce. Lest you think there is nothing more to this story, add in a mix of one member of the former marriage discovering their homosexuality and the other finding Jesus in a super fanatical demonimation and let the battle for human rights begin.
UPDATE April 14th 2011 : looky looky! The Herald Sun newspaper back home has an article about the story online.
I read this book on my beloved hot pink e-reader (and if any book publishers out there want to send me e-books to read and review – send them to me electronically… really!) and I have to say I loved it. Glorious story. Powerful mystery woven around another mystery. Enthralling. I read The ‘Weight of Silence” at the same time as I was reading ‘Sing You Home’ and it was only at the end of both books (finished on the same day I might add!) that I realised that both books had been broken into chapters written from different characters points of view. And that I loved both books for it. Heather Gudenkuaf is a new author that I hadn’t discovered earlier, but one that I would be more than willing to pick up another book to loose myself in. Strong characters written so well that I could identify with and feel repelled by. Characters that I could marvel at and find myself crying for. One of my favourites for the month.
A rather dull little book that I read in my quest to learn about Enid Blyton. Not worth the time to be honest. One can’t help but feel that Gillian was trying to erase the story that younger sister Imogen had published, in which she went about describing her mother in less than glowing terms. Not much to say really.
I had a lot of expectations of Rhoda Janzen’s book – I’ve had a long term love affair with the Amish and by proxy the Mennonites - but this book was disappointing. Reviews stated that it was funny, witty, clever. I didn’t see anything that could be described in this book with those words in the whole novel. I found the story line confusing and I never really connected with the author. It doesn’t appear that she had learned anything about herself in the journey of recovery from her (oft explained) car accident and divorce from an abusive husband who went and left her for another man. Although ironically enough, I found myself at one with the author when she wrote this….
age 260
But I made my peace with the loons. I am the type of person who invariable finishes a book, no matter how much I have grown to hate it, or who stays seated right through the worst movie of all time. I always think, Eh, its not so bad. I can stand it!
I understand you totally Rhoda… I understand.
Second book by Patrick Taylor for the month, and I can’t help but envy him the time he gets to spend in Irish pubs dreaming up new story lines for his ongoing series as he undoubtedly enjoys a Guinness or two. Interesting to see the crabby, wont let the wool be pulled over his eyes Dr O’Reilly start to fall in love. Its a look back in time to the 1960′s in a country still tormented by sectarian differences and divided loyalties. It’s a simple story to be read and enjoyed.
As part of my challenge (an extra brownie points bonus you might say) I have decided that each month I need to read at least one author I’ve not read before. Expand my literary horizons so to speak. Hence Brooklyn by Colm Toibin. I enjoyed the way he described the level of homesickness an immigrant feels when they are living life in a new country. How home looks so inviting, and then when going back, the new parameters of life that have been forced upon the immigrant in the new homeland (that they often struggled against and resented) suddenly seem so much wider, stronger and sometimes more inviting when the reality of being back home sets in. An interesting story. Didn’t fill my heart with joy like discovering Santa Montefiore did, but I’m glad to say I’ve added Toibin to my list of authors.
So there you have it.. ten books for the month of March and I’m well on my way to ten books for the month of April. Lord willing I will have my own computer again by the time that particular review goes up.
Now… go and open a book, turn on an e-reader and loose yourself in someone’s imagination.
Real Life Words #7
April 4, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words…
No picture is complete unless painted with love…..
Children will read if….
March 30, 2011 By 1 Comment
Children will read if they see Mum and Dad doing it.
When I read statements like this “The Telegraph” headline, I can’t help but wonder, is it true?
My beach bum father was brought up by English speaking parents in a beachside town and was little more than a functional illiterate although both his parents were literate. He could read road signs, sign his name, read the headlines of papers if he concentrated and the TV guide, but picking up a book to read for the pure pleasure of it? Read me a bedtime story? Never happened.
My mother was raised by dirt poor Polish immigrant parents in an English speaking country who were fully illiterate in both languages. Not even newspapers that were stacked hip deep in the corner of the kitchen were read; they were used as an outer wrapper for the cartons of eggs they sold to the neighborhood to make ends meet. School was the only place in which books were ever read to her. As an adult Mum would borrow books from the library every few weeks; staggering under the weight of a stack of books from the library door to the car. It was a weekly routine that my mother would go to the news agency every Monday to buy her three favourite magazines, which were devoured over the course of the week.
Potentially the chances of me turning out to be a bookworm were 50-50. Obviously it only takes a moment to look at this blog’s themes to know that I agree with the statement that if children see even one parent reading they too will read. And I applaud British MP Michael Gove taking a stand and setting the goal of getting children to read 50 books a year.
Seriously folks, that’s less than one book a week. There is talk about people’s attention span being reduced due to the social media swirl that everyone seems seduced by. Tweets are only 140 characters (characters – not words!) long. Instant gratification or it’s given the flick. Heaven knows my posts are probably too long according to the rules governing how to develop a popular blog.
In this household we don’t own any gaming machines, although Bronwen’s father does play games on his computer that she enjoys in small doses and she does love going to a friend’s house and playing on the Wii Fit. This past week I’ve introduced her to chapter books, reading “The Wishing Chair Collection” (Enid Blyton) to her at night. We go to the library truck every week and load up my backpack to the point that the zippers strain to close. Sitting together on the floor next to the ‘library bookshelf’ and reading several picture books is a normal event. Have you ever read “Jake Goes Peanuts” by Micheal Wright to a child…? See if you can guess a six year olds favourite page. I’ll give you a hint; there’s toilet humor in it!
I cannot imagine a life without books, without reading. I cannot imagine missing the pleasure of being taken to another life via the imagination of a good writer. Not sharing this joy, this affordable form of entertainment with my child seems a weird idea that my mind cannot wrap itself around. The idea that Victoria Beckham admitted that she hadn’t read a book in her whole life fills me with a kind of terror.
Asking the question ‘do you read to your children? Are they readers too?’ seems too simplified. Do you think that parents reading to their children, or just being seen to be reading has an effect on the attitude children take to reading themselves? Is the goal of 50 books a year impossible, too easy or just plain ridiculous? And how, if shrinking attention spans are true, do we make reading more attractive to not only children, but people of all ages?
PS. My laptop computer has died so if entries are few and far between over the next little while, its because I’m going spare, looking for an affordable replacement, writing sporadically on Bronwen’s fathers computer and suffering withdrawl without my instantly gratifying window to the world and all things literary.
Real Life Words #6
March 28, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words….
There is a little girl who loves visiting the library truck almost as much as I do.
Real Life Words #5
March 21, 2011 By Leave a Comment
A regular feature with no long explanations… just photos of real life words.
The joy of Scholastic book clubs is the same from generation to generation, country to country
Stranger than Fiction is my Red Letter Day
March 18, 2011 By 2 Comments
If I’m serious about becoming a writer, it means putting my writing out there in competitions, literary magazines and the like and come what may.
Easy, right?
Well in fact, it’s been something I’ve reeeeeally struggled with.
But now March 10th 2011 is a red letter day in my writing career. I found an online competition with CBC Books and thought, “Yeah…. I can do that.” I can write 250 words and enter it into a competition that has a Sony Digital Reader as the lure/prize.
I kept my story to 226 words, asked my writing group friends to give it a look-see and then sent it off via the mysterious ways of cyberspace before I could second guess myself.
So finding the next competition to enter is sure to be a cinch… ha!
We were the yin and yang of relationships. People couldn’t help but comment on the symmetry of our being.
Our ideals, ambitions, hopes and future career paths all meshed together flawlessly. A match made in heaven.
Slate blue eyed, honey blonde hair, just right against my twinkling green eyes and dark auburn tresses that blended together in a soft mess of curls.
Even the age gap was text book.
But the church Leadership did not agree with his choice of a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. “She’ll pull you away from your God-given calling. You’ll never reach your true potential,” they warned.
Strongarmed, church Leadership challenged me to reconsider my affection. Called it impure for not putting his obvious calling at the forefront of my choice.
A choice never acted upon.
We drove to the picturesque village of Sassafras to share a meal of stone scones and salty tea. The word ‘date’ technically forbidden. Across the table we held hands but never said the word goodbye.
He married a girl from the ‘right’ kind of family. Left his calling nonetheless and never reached his expected potential.
I married a man who knocked me on my arse and knocked my tooth out. I made the choice to flee; to survive. Audaciously began to thrive.
Yet my heart still longs for what should have been.
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