Dav Pilkey

The Adventures of Super Diaper Baby (2002)
2 X The Captain Underpants Extra-Crunchy Book O' Fun (2001)
Captain Underpants and the Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People (2006)
Ricky Ricotta's Mighty Robot vs. the Voodoo Vultures from Venus (2001)
Weight: 1 lb
Method of Disposal: Donating

I love Dav Pilkey.

I also love Captain Underpants.

I developed a fascination with all books Dav Pilkey while working in the children's department at Barnes and Noble.  I liked to read anything that was popular with the kids to see what they may or may not be picking up.  I liked to know what they liked versus what their parent's liked.  I enjoyed seeing the adult observations that were innocently masked by childlike humor in Pilkey's books.  In one of these Captain Underpants books the characters observe that when you are tiny your parents make a huge deal out of your going to the bathroom, smiling and praising you.  Then, years later they yell at you for talking about it out loud. The characters find the adults to be unpredictable and unreasonable.  It is amusing because it is also true. The whole point here is that you should read Captain Underpants if you read nothing else by Dav Pilkey.

Children's Literature

The Adventures of Captain Underpants (1997)
Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown by Charles M. Schulz (1976)
Celebrate: A Book of Jewish Holidays by Judith Gross (1992)
Cookie Monster's Book of Cookie Shapes Sesame Street (1979)
Disney's The Lion King by Gina Ingoglia (1994)
The Hoboken Chicken Emergency by Daniel Pinkwater (1999)
Horrible Harry and the Holidaze  by Suzy Kline (2003)
How to Eat a Poem: A Smorgasbord of Tasty and Delicious Poems for Young Readers  Edited by The American Poetry and Literacy Project and The Academy of American Poets (2006)
I, Houdini: The Autobiography of a Self-Educated Hamster (1978)
Junior Science Book of Penguins by Patricia Lauber (1963)
Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears by Emily Cravett (2007)
Mr Popper's Penguins (another copy) by Richard and Florence Atwater (1988)
My Visit to the Aquarium by Aliki (1993)
The Night Crossing  by Karen Ackerman (1994)
Penguin Pete and Pat by Marcus Pfister (1989)
Smurf Cake by Peyo (1981)
The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck  by Beatrix Potter (1987)
Walt Disney's Alphabet A-Z (1983)
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (2007)
The Young Folks' Shelf of Books: Sport and Adventure (Book 9, 1938)
Weight: 6 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating

I am packing boxes and hauling old furniture out to the curb to be taken home by new people.  I am walking in my front door and feeling overwhelmed by how messy everything looks and how many more boxes I need to get.  I am daunted by the idea of moving everything 30-40 minutes across town and also learning how to do my new job (new title, same place).  To calm myself in between all of these things, I am re-reading all of my young adult and children's literature before putting it in one of the donation boxes.

Today, I learned about various winter holidays, the night crossings some Jewish families took to escape the nazis, and the different breeds of penguins.  I also read about 260 lb pet chickens, the too trusting Jemima Puddle-duck who laid her eggs in a foxes house, and several love poems to literature.  It makes getting rid of books a slow process when you reread them all, but it is so much fun to revisit the stories of my childhood, then my teenhood, then my bookstore days, and then, hell, even a book I read last year and then forgot.

The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter

The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter: The Original and Authorized Edition

1989

Weight: 2.4 lbs

Method of Disposal: Leaving somewhere or giving away if you would like a copy

This is a great book, and I feel honored to have spent so much time with it.  I still feel the residual magic of reading it as a child as I write this.  I loved the pictures and the stories.  I have a permanent imprint of Peter Rabbit stuck in Mr. McGregor’s gooseberry net and the mother rabbit taking care of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail in her den.  How could you forget a name like Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle?  Little Mrs. Tittlemouse and her tidy house?  For a child that loved animals, Beatrix Potter was where it was at.  The smallest animals had the most elaborate lives and endearing personalities.  It is no wonder that I still love hamsters, gerbils, and rodents as an adult.

I was also lucky that when I was a child I lived across the way from a woman who wrote plays and brought Potter to the theater.  I was best friends with her daughter and so had the pleasure to revel in the classic animal tales in an all new way.  

I am really having a hard time parting with this one.  It must go soon lest I change my mind.

Larabee

Larabee  by Kevin Luthardt

2004

Weight: 13 oz

Method of Disposal: Gave to my niece, Isabella

Larabee did come to me as an adult.  It was just too perfect to be passed up.  I loved animals as a young girl (are you surprised?), and I was brought to the zoo many times.  My father would let me ride piggy back and at the end of the trip my brother and I would always get a rainbow snow cone.  I loved the flamingos when you first walked in and the peacocks that roamed about.  In Atlanta, we had the gorilla, Willie B. who I called Willie The Bee for far longer than I probably should have.    I could not hear it any other way.

One day, my family took in a stray Australian shepherd.  My mother asked me what I would like to name the dog, and I wanted to name her Laura the Bee, also known as Laurabee.  I wanted her to be named after me and my favorite primate.  Was that so much to ask?  My mother refused, though she did it while laughing, and proclaimed that the dog would be called Dottie.  She WAS speckled.   Anywho, I saw this book while walking around the bookstore with my mother as an adult, and we could not resist.

Larabee, the dog in the book, also loves mail and letters.  The USPS might be a little bit of an obsession of mine.  Just sayin’.

I saw my niece today, and I know how much she loves dogs and all sorts of animals so I passed it on to her.  She flipped through it in the car on our drive to the park, where we made friends with a little girl who had her own motorized car, listened to and saw squirrels eating nuts in the trees, and meandered around a beautiful garden touching blue concrete owls.  All and all a lovely day, don’t you think?

**I am no longer a fan of zoos, as a general rule.  I do not believe animals should be kept in captivity unless they are rescued and unable to be rehabilitated.  Then, I believe they should be in dedicated and well-run sanctuaries.**

A Little Princess

A Little Princess  by Frances Hodgson Burnett

1989

Weight: 1 lb

Method of Disposal:   Leaving in Downtown Decatur

My rebellion against my assigned gender began when I was very young.  The limitations and the rules about what I could and could not do as a girl where excessively frustrating to me.  I called bullshit, and I was usually right to do so, but there were some times where I might have overcompensated.  I was right in kindergarten to tear off my shirt despite my teachers’ protests and annoyance.  We were changing our shirts, and the line for the girl’s restroom was ridiculous.  The boys were just changing in the classroom and so would I, damn it.  My temper tantrum over wanting to be a boy scout and not a brownie was semi-reasonable, but I probably would have had more fun if I had just rolled with it.  Or if someone had explained to me that Brownies do more than bake desserts.  That was information I needed.  I might have been too busy bitching to hear that explanation from my mom.

It was no different when my parents handed my A Little Princess.  I was aggravated.  I hated princesses.  I hated the girl’s bonnet and fur trimmed coat on the cover.  I hated the doll the girl held in some of the pictures.  Did my parents know me at all?  Turns out, as per usual, they knew (know) me better than I knew (know) myself.  I fell in love with the book.  It was magical.  And the girl was not a feeble-minded, weak, girl-child.  She had some tomboy in her, like myself.

This is the exact copy I was given all those years ago.  It still has an old bookmark, a $3.00 bill I made for my imaginary town, Snow Town, where I lived as a penguin with my wife who was also a penguin.  My name was Tux and hers was Peppy.  Magical.  It will be hard to let this one go.

Night Train

Night Train  by Martin Amis

1999

Weight:  6 oz

Method of Disposal: Gave to Tracy who will probably read and then donate

I was caught quite off guard with Night Train.  I was under the impression that I did not particularly enjoy Martin Amis.  When I pulled it off my shelves I noticed that it looked short and easy to read, which was what I was in the mood for.  I was turned off by the author and by the synopsis that put it forth as a mystery novel.  I still took it to bed with me.  The voice of the main character in the first couple pages irritated me, and I just knew this would not be a favorite.

How many ways was I wrong?  I think I have an irresponsible and potentially inaccurate view of Martin Amis, and intend to read his other novels, many of which I already own.   I thought he did a great job with Night Train.  It can be categorized as a detective novel, without being a pop mystery book.  I see that now.  I had some prejudgments.  I admit it.  I really enjoyed this book.  I could not wait to read it and viewed other, non-reading, moments of my life with disdain.

That being said, I do think the book had so much more potential.  I am not sure exactly what it was missing, but I think it was in the character and her voice.  I liked Detective Mike Hoolihan, but I am not sure I was ever convinced of her existence.   There is too much umph.  Too many stereotypes for one person, maybe?  There were necessary details that were never explained or used in any real way.  It was like they belonged, but they had not found their place.

Spoiler:

This book explores the suicide of a beautiful young woman with a seemingly perfect life.  The narrator tells her own story while describing the lead up to the death of the beautiful woman (her acquaintance) Jennifer Rockwell.  The book itself becomes a suicide letter from the narrator, Mike Hoolihan.  The reader is given clues all along, but like in real life, misses most of them, ignores them, or does not realize the full potential of them.  While we focus on Jennifer, her boyfriend, and her family we let Mike lead us through her own demise without us realizing it.  We know Mike is lonely, a recovered alcoholic with a dying liver, and bitter from her time working as a Police.  It is not shocking that she decides to end her life, but it is not what you thought the focus of the book was either.  

I really cannot fully explain what about this book grabbed me and would not let go, but I can say that I was in it the whole time.  I felt sadness, fogginess come over me at the end.  I was surprised by my reaction.  It was unexpected and so wonderfully welcomed.  I now say goodbye to the Night Train.  I bought it for 93 cents many years ago and never thought much about it.  Now, I will not soon forget it, and I have some Amis to catch up on.

Rose: Love In Violent Times

Rose: Love in Violent Times  Inga Muscio

2011

Weight: 9.6 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating or Giving Away

I fell in love with Cunt: A Declaration of Independence when I was 16.  It got me excited.  I proclaimed that I would buy 100 copies and give them all away for free before I died, just to spread the word.  I wrote Inga a letter telling her about my plan, thanking her for writing, and asking her to sign a book.  She sent back an autographed copy and some Cunt stickers I carried around with me, never deciding on where they would get their best use.  

I did buy quite a few copies of Cunt.  I gave them to friends.  I bought the revised copy.  To this day, I still have one of the original yellow books, one of the revised blue books, and the autographed yellow copy.  I quit buying them right as I got into college.  I was reading so many amazing things.  It just kind of faded away.  It was not until much later that I found my disappointments with the book.

Despite my growing distaste, I continued to buy her books.  It meant so much to me at 16, and that means something no matter what I learn, feel, think in the now/future.  

I just pulled Rose off the bookshelves and read it for the first time.  I was disappointed.  It was all over the place and never seemed to come together in any real way.  The chapters were labeled differently, but I so often felt like I was reading the same thing over and over and over.  It is her stream-of-consciousness, blunt writing that is her strength, but it can also be her weakness.  I like that she does not write as if she is smarter, more educated, wiser than other people.  I like that she says things that make sense.   I worry when she compares the opening of a Wal-Mart to the dropping of atomic bombs in Japan.  It feels like a painful and inaccurate comparison even though I agree that Wal-Mart does terrible things.  I could even think of a lot of ammunition/information to throw behind the argument that a Wal-Mart opening could be like a bomb—but I did not get it from her.  She mentions is, but she drops it quickly and moves on, like almost everything else.   I do question some of the research, statistics, information she sites.  There should be a good way to not fall into the rut of academic writing but still give me a clue as to where you got your information that rape has gone up dramatically since the Iraq War (and things like that).  I do not doubt that it has, but I want to know more about it and read more about it.  

I have disdain for the use of “retarded” in the first Cunt and for the flippant anti-prostitution analogies used in Rose.  I just do not see the need.  I think it is unnecessarily hurtful, though possibly unintentional.  Just, if you are asking us to think about our words then think about yours.

I think Inga is a great activist, a passionate writer, and probably a loving person.  I am just not so easily amped up anymore.  I have grown and changed.  I am no longer moved by the language and voice I once was.  Again, I am still thankful for that energy I was given as a teenager, but in the future I hope to read far more useful books on the same topic.  We do need to find love in these violent times, afterall.