Maggie Reads

American Bee (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 14:05:00 +0000

I spent a lovely evening judging the Senatobia Coterie Club’s annual Spelling Bee. All the participants, (word in last night’s bee) ranging from 5^th through 8^th grades, did an amazing job and should be proud. The winner of the event, 8^th grader Christian Hughes from Strayhorn High School, advances to the Scripps Regional Spelling Bee in Memphis.

It was a fascinating experience. First, these students must stand in front of a large crowd consisting of eager parents, a

nnoying siblings, beloved teachers, and mean looking judges. Ha. Then, they must spell a random word (possibly from another language) correctly. It takes grit to perform under these circumstances.

Spelling words is a talent. If not for spell check, my nose would be in a dictionary daily. I blame my horrendous spelling skills on a hatred of reading that I claimed as a characteristic in elementary school. Now, we all know I really did not hate books, but I did see them as nerdish enterprises. I was athletic and preferred adventures outdoors to ones found inside books.

Imagine my astonishment when my father told me he won a spelling bee once. What?!? My dad was and still is one of the most athletic people I know. He coached football, basketball and today coaches women’s tennis at Hendersonville High School. Ugh, and all of those baseball games I had to sit through because my dad was the umpire still haunts me.

It is silly to be shocked. These kids last night were in competition. Just because they were not kicking goalies or knocking it out of the park, did not mean they were not face to face with the enemy. The sport is spelling and last night’s opponents sat side by side on a stage fighting for the right to take home a shiny trophy.

So, you ask? What does this have to do with books? Here are some suggestions to ready you for next year’s competition. Parents pick up James Maguire’s American Bee: The National Spelling Bee and the Culture of Word Nerds. Follow it with Word Freak by Stefan Fatsis and a nightly round of scrabble. Practice makes perfect.

Students will enjoy Barrie Trinkle’s How to Spell like a Champ: Roots, Lists, Rules, Games, Tricks, & Bee-Winning Tips from the Pros. For inspiration the night before the bee, I suggest you Netflix the movie Spellbound. This nail-biter follows eight young spellers as they ascend the spelling bee ladder.

Good luck next year and C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S to Christian Hughes.

The Last Resort (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 21:08:00 +0000

I was up early this morning to complete reading a new Mississippi memoir. I could easily use the sleep but I was compelled to finish it. My nails suffered and I sat on the edge of my seat anticipating the outcome. This book is good.
The story brings to mind The Help by Kathryn Stockett; although, it is a truer story of “the help” as seen through Norma’s life than the romanced version currently creating Oscar buzz.

We follow the life of Norma Watkins from child to 30-year-old adult. At the beginning of the book she moves to Allison’s Wells, an old family spa, while her father is away serving in the Pacific theatre of WWII. She, her mother and younger sister, Mary Elizabeth, have the run of the place taking the best rooms in the heated section of the hotel.

Mother is unhappy. Her husband elects to go to war rather than being selected. How can a married man with two young children just volunteer? Many nights she stays up later than she should and drinks and smokes more than she should according to Norma. She is very unhappy even though Norma can catch her constantly laughing.

When they move to Allison’s Wells, they bring with them Marie. Norma considers Marie her true mom. Latte colored Marie does everything for the family except cook. She can boil carrots, but that hardly makes a meal.

After a year at Allison’s, Marie is suspiciously gone. Norma sneaks under tables and behind doors to hear the gossip. Why would Marie leave her and Mary Elizabeth? Why would she not say goodbye? All she gets from the adults is a hushed story involving the bar tender, Bee-Bee.

Why do I love this book and Norma’s voice? The book demonstrates the subtle stories told that form our opinion of race. For example, at the age of 12, Norma is referred to as Miss. Norma. No matter how many times she tells them to stop, “the help” continues the missus nomenclature.

I love Norma’s voice because she reminds me of the fact that women really did not have that many career options. That generation was doomed to secretary, bank teller, teacher, nurse, librarian, or housewife. My skull would explode if I thought I could not at least try something else. Funny, Melvil Dewey of Dewey Decimal System believed librarians should all be men!

Read The Last Resort: Taking the Mississippi Cure by Norma Watkins. Lee Smith says, “This is one of the best memoirs I have ever read.”

The Night Circus (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 16:10:00 +0000

It appears out of nowhere. Back in a field near the town but far enough away to be mysterious. The tents look to have been raised over night. Instead of bright red, orange and green colors the tents are muted in black and white stripes. No one sees the train they arrived on or circus employees mulling around within the grounds.

There are no posters or flyers mucking up the landscape thus forcing the curious villagers closer for more information. The circus remains surprisingly black and white even up close. There are no other colors visible from the entrance. The wrought iron fence enclosing all the tents glistens in the sun with its oil black paint. The posts too close to squeeze through and the arrows on top too sharp to cross over.

Set back from the fence about six feet, the tents sway slightly in the breeze and all around the green grass is covered in white powder or paint. Looking past the gates at various size tents, onlookers see a unique black and white wooden grandfather clock. At each hour a new wooden performer graces its front and displays a trick before disappearing into the dark housing.

Better than any newspaper advertisement, the citizens rush home to tell their neighbors, friends and families all about the huge black sign dangling from chains on the front gate. “Opens at Nightfall – Closes at Dawn.”

The crowd is a large one from the town and neighboring boroughs. News has spread, and those waiting shuffle in the early evening as the sun slowly descends and the fireflies rise to flit about in the gloaming. Still there is no movement within as darkness slowly falls over the landscape.

Circus enthusiasts are starting to wane as the stillness creeps over them like an encroaching fog. Those gathered begin to turn towards the town. Maybe the circus is not ready. Maybe they will open tomorrow. Before they take that first step away, a slight popping can be heard from the enclosure.

Random lights around the tents flicker on slowly. One here then another behind a small tent and then all the sudden the gates come alive with crackling lights. The arbitrary beams morph into shapes that form words and then all is clear. The sign reads, “Le Cirque des Rêves.”

Enter the magical circus of dreams at your own risk. Erin Morgenstern’s new book The Night Circus pleases. There is mystery, suspense, magic, and romance waiting within the black and white book’s cover.

Invention of Hugo Cabret (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 19:20:00 +0000

He stares at the old man through the five in the clock face. From his position above, the old man looks to be taking inventory. He knows it won’t be long before the old man begins to doze, but he wonders if the old man has started to notice things missing. Little things really, he doesn’t like stealing and only takes what he absolutely needs to finish his automaton.

Hugo is alone now. The automaton is all that is left of his previous life. His mother died when he was a wee boy, but he spent many happy days with his father. As museum mechanic, Hugo’s father made sure Hugo had a mind for gears, pulleys, and springs. If not in school, he brought Hugo along with him on all repairs.

Their favorite thing to work on together was the automaton. Someone had stored the lifelike man in the museum attic after it broke, and the father and son team took it on as a mission. Hugo’s father would draw its small pieces and parts in a notebook as he disassembled the work. From this notebook, he hoped to turn around and put it back together with clean pieces and parts and have a working machine.

The automaton was a little man sitting posed behind a desk with his arms raised above the desk. In his left hand resided an ink well and in his right a pen. If things worked correctly, after being wound the automaton would write something on a sheet of paper placed underneath the arms on the desk. Father and son dreamt of those words.

Ah, the old man was asleep. Hugo quickly climbed down from the attic, slipped into the alley, ran across the road, and shimmied into the cracked air grate. From there, he silently made his way to the toy booth, and his goal. He could see the old man still sleeping as he slowly moved the air vent cover.

His prize in reachable site, he outstretches his arm to grab the little blue mouse. The old man suddenly comes alive and grabs Hugo around his wrist and begins to yell for the station inspector. Hugo is doomed! If the station inspector discovers he is alone it will be straight to the orphanage and good-bye automaton. He must talk fast!

The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick is a 500 plus-page picture book that won the American Library Association’s prestigious Caldecott Medal for 2008. I wrote article the summer of 2008, but after seeing the movie last night I want to shout to everyone, “Read this Book!”

Ntl Picture Book Month (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 18:50:00 +0000

I give thanks every Wednesday morning when I start writing these columns. First, I am thankful that there are great Mississippian or Southern authors to read and discuss. Second, I am thankful that I have great eyesight and leisure time to read. Third, I am thrilled that I have a job I love and that reading is a requirement. Lastly, that I have people willing to read these columns.

At the annual Career-Technical BBQ, I was honored among many fine members of the division for some work the library did in their behalf. It was very nice to be included and I was thankful that the LPN program could use my help. They have an excellent school and I enjoyed my time working with everyone involved.

As a little bonus, they gave me a gift. It was Christmas in theme and I got a cool spreading knife and green napkins, but at the bottom was the best gift ever. It came from people that read my columns and know me. It means the world.

They gave me Bruce Whatley’s The Night before Christmas. This fully illustrated picture book displays the magic of the season on each page. Big presents under the tree can stir young ones to all kinds of wishes. I grew up with the Santa Mouse and How the Grinch Stole Christmas, so my 70s Christmas either had tiny gifts or no gifts at all.

November is National Picture Book Month. I bet you are scratching your chin thinking, hum, I did not know that. Well, they are special. It is a format that will never fit comfortably on a Kindle or Nook. Picture books, with their 32 pages of bliss, are meant to be flipped through, carried with small hands, and sometimes even chewed on.

Picture books are the corner stone of childhood. Every child’s first stuffed animal should be accompanied with a book. I like the tie-ins myself. Books such as Elmer, with the calico elephant or Where the Wild Things Are with hairy but kind monsters are the best. I picture a child in yellow-footed pajamas with a Curious George book tucked under one arm and his hand pulling the monkey along with the other.

Thank you Career-Tech for the gift, thank you Northwest for the job, and thank you to all my readers. It gives me great pride to know that we Mississippians like our books.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Outlaw Album (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 18:12:00 +0000

Every Sunday after church we would head to the grandparents’ houses to visit. First mom’s family then dad’s until we were all visited out. Sweetheart and Papa talked politics and money with my parents while Granny Smith and Paw ran-on about the ole days. One family lived in the here-and-now while the other lived in the past.

I liked the ole stories. Granny Smith and Paw could entertain for days with these crazy uncle and aunt antics. Who cared about tobacco prices?

To encourage Sweetheart’s story telling abilities, I would thumb through the family photo albums and ask her about certain pictures. What is Papa doing? Who is this guy standing next to you? How many brothers and sisters do you have, Sweetheart? Why do none of you look alike?

I thought about this weekly ritual after finishing The Outlaw Album by Daniel Woodrell. My grandmother rarely answered my questions with more than a quick name or two. This got me to thinking…she might not want me to know the answers.

The Outlaw Album is set in the Ozarks of Missouri and Arkansas. The short stories involve different families, but it makes one heck of a grim photo album. After each story, I can picture the main character, always the narrator, and place him on a page in my “Outlaw Album.”

One story, set during the Civil War, has a regiment of rebels dressed in union jackets riding the countryside of Missouri unchallenged. At the Sni-A-Bar creek they come across a family stopped to water their team as they travel west. The father hollers a correction to the boy and our narrator notices he is Dutch.

Once the Dutchman proclaims his loyalty to the Union, it is all over for him. The men circle and snare him while one fashions a rope. A discussion flares over the proper noose size, seven or thirteen coils, as the condemned man blathers in the confusion. Once the man swings, his boy runs to his aid and is shot in the back.

The photo I would place in my album would feature our yellow-bellied narrator sitting proudly on his horse with the Dutchman’s lifeless body dangling from a tree.

I love Woodrell. His style of writing is amazing, but this is not a collection for the faint of heart. His outlaws include young girls, rapists, and old men getting away with murder one story after another. Woodrell makes the Ozarks one scary place.

Winter's Bone (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 18:26:00 +0000

Among a small group at Northwest, chatter is occurring around the characteristics of the “dirty south” or “rough south” genre in American literature. Two English professors discussed Harry Crews, father of the genre, enough to request the book Feast of Snakes. Set in Mystic, Georgia, this southern horror story centers around a fallen high-school athlete, Joe Lon Mackey, and the craziness of the annual Rattlesnake Roundup.

Also known as “grit lit,” another instructor loves Mississippian, Larry Brown. Every so often, I have a curious student ask about a Brown title and he explains the “grit lit” expression. Of course, I am in awe. Not necessarily because he knows the term, but the motivation to read an author the instructor casually mentioned during a lecture.

I have spoken separately with a husband and wife teaching team who love Missouri author, Daniel Woodrell. He excites me too, since he is writing actively in the genre. Both Crews and Brown have gone to the great double wide in the sky. Winter’s Bone by Woodrell is one of his best.

Ree Dolly is in charge of a wayward family. Her mother spends her days by the potbelly staying warm and mumbling. Her father is eating three squares under the supervision of the Missouri Correctional Department. Her two younger brothers are suffering under quilts and eating the same ole grits Ree cooks daily.

Today is a little harder on the family’s stomachs. Across the creek hangs venison curing in the open air. They live in a hollow in the Ozarks surrounded by kin. Little Harold makes the mistake when he asks if they will offer any to the family. Ree is quick to turn his ear and say, “Never. Never ask for what ought to be offered.”

After the boys’ meager breakfast, they are sent off to the bus stop and Ree begins her daily chopping of wood. The snow slaps her in the face as she dreads the washing that will have to hang in the house to dry.

Within an hour the boys are returning to the house in the back of a cop car. Ree greets the officer with a quick, “They didn’t do nothin’!” and is reassured they did not. School has been cancelled. The policeman, an old friend of her father’s, has something to tell her before he leaves.

“Jessup’s out on bail and I can’t locate him. Girl, you better find him by November 8, or you will lose the house, barn and timbre acres if he don’t show. He signed them over”

Mind Chi (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 16:47:00 +0000

A monster has been created! I had so much fun in the business book section last week that I stayed a full two hours looking over titles and scanning content. What I pulled out to read is Mind Chi: Re-wire your Brain in 8 Minutes a Day by Richard Israel and Vanda North.

Mind Chi according to the two authors is an act of changing negative energy to positive energy. The reader is to use the B.E.A.T. method. The person takes whatever issue they face destructively within their body, emotions, actions, and thoughts (BEAT) and changes them to positives. It takes two minutes per section for a total of eight minutes.

For example, let us say I am having trouble meeting goals. For one minute I analysis my body and determine that I am burned out, my back aches and I lack concentration. Using Mind Chi, the second minute will be used resolving the problem by being more responsive, doing yoga or taking pills to be pain-free, and preparing my body to be ready for action. Obviously, these are all concepts in my mind. It takes longer than two minutes to do stretching exercises like yoga.

Moving on to step two and my emotions, I do not achieve my goals because I feel hopeless, sad and stressed. Not really, but I play along. So, I am looking to change these emotions to enjoyment, buoyancy and eagerness. How many of us really take into consideration our feelings when meeting a task? Alas, I do not want to mow the yard because I feel stressed during the process. The real reason being I am lazy which leads us to step three, actions.

Instead of meeting my goal, I am actively talking on the phone or wasting time with lower priorities. I should be planning ahead and completing little tasks towards the goal and managing my time more wisely. Remember this exercise is happening in two minutes and all in my head.

The final step involves checking my thoughts. Am I dragging my feet because I do not see the reason for the goal or maybe I think it is unattainable no matter how much effort I spend? My thoughts should be moving forward for the greater good, or enjoying the challenge, or even realizing I will get satisfaction in the completion when obtained.

Mind Chi provides 50 BEAT maps for common issues in business such as sales, communication, training, health, and management skills. I think it will be useful in my running, too. Maybe one day, I can Mind Chi to a faster me.

Leadership Secrets of Santa Claus (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 17:09:00 +0000

Business books are a dime a dozen. Seems like every week one is released to great hoopla and then lost among the hordes of others sitting on our shelves. In short – business books sell but have a limited life span.

I have become quite attached to the short and sweet versions in this category. Who has time to really delve into Collins’ Good to Great when I can cover the basics reading Blanchard’s One Minute Manager in an eighth of the time?!?

Along with being short the gimmicky format stands out. A busy boss needs information quick and the gimmick usually adds to her retention of the material. Three examples that come to mind in this gimmicky sub-genre of business are Peanut Butter and Jelly Management by Komisarjevsky, Fish: A Remarkable Way to Boost Morales and Improve Results by Lundin, Paul and Christensen, and The Back of the Napkin by Dan Roam.

The Leadership Secrets of Santa Claus by the employees of Walk-the-Talk has it all. Choked full of useful information and in a cutesy but effective format, this book can be read in one sitting.

Busy bosses can lament with Santa Claus as he relates the perils of one day delivery. “There are workers to lead, letters to read, orders to fill, processes to manage, stuff to buy, stuff to make, standards to maintain, new technologies to adopt, skills to develop, elf problems to solve, and reindeer droppings to scoop (although I delegate that one).”

There are eight secrets amongst the eight chapters such as chapter 6, “Share the Milk and Cookies.” Be sure your employees realize the difference they are making in the company. Santa, the elves, and the reindeer all have a part in the “big ‘making people happy’ picture.” One way is to reward those who do a good job with verbal praises and letters of gratitude. Santa says make, “‘attitude of gratitude’ one of your most important workshop values.”

Other secrets include: “Build a Wonderful Workshop, Choose Your Reindeer Wisely, Listen to the Elves, Get beyond the Red Wagons, Find out Who’s Naughty and Nice, and Be Good for Goodness Sake.”

As a boss your mission may not be “making spirits bright,” but then again, maybe it should be.

Girl's Guide to Homelessness (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 19:20:00 +0000

As I read Brianna Karp’s memoir, The Girl’s Guide to Homelessness, I am struck by her understanding of the word homeless. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines homeless as having no home or permanent place of residence. Karp owns a recreational vehicle (RV) that was bequeathed to her from her dad’s estate. She also owns a truck to haul the RV from Wal-Mart parking lot to Wal-Mart parking lot.

Technically, Karp has a home. She has a roof over her head. She has shelter from the elements. She is able to place her stuff such as books, toiletries and food within its rooms. She can lock the door and drive away for supplies. She is drawing unemployment and blogs on her own laptop during the day at Starbucks.

One could argue that the RV is not a permanent place because she moves it around. How many of your friends have sold their homes and moved into an RV to see the world? They see the RV as a home. They take showers in another location possibly, but still call the tin-can home.

Now, I admit, I am only a third of the way through the book. She may end up spending a night or two on a park bench and for that I will take back everything I said, but somehow I doubt it.

Karp is part of an elite group if she is truly homeless. She states on her blog by the same name as the book, “I am an educated woman with stable employment and residence history. I have never done drugs. I am not mentally ill. I am a career executive assistant – coherent, opinionated, poised, and capable. If you saw me walking down the street, you wouldn’t have assumed that I lived in a parking lot. In short, I was just like you – except without the convenience of a permanent address.”

I bounced my ideas off a co-worker who is also reading the book and she said, “But I like her.” I like her, too! Heck, I love someone that pulls herself up by the boot straps. Karp was sexually abused by her father and physically and mentally abused by her mother. She deserves better.

I just get an uneasy feeling knowing Karp will profit from the book. Why shouldn’t she? She did write it while homeless and looking for a job. Read that last sentence ironically. What about those truly homeless who need our support? What will happen to uneducated minds that might see her choice as an alternative to everyday life? Is this really something one wants to glamorize?

Water for Elephants Redux (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 17:12:00 +0000

Do you ever return to a book for a second or third reading? My husband returns to the Charles Portis’ well every year when he rereads Gringos.

I recently reread Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen for the Reading Round Table sponsored by Sycamore Bank. The experience is comparable to watching a movie for the second or third time. You catch things that you missed in the first viewing like you miss in the book.

Unlike re-watching a movie, I forget so much in a book. For instance, I read Gruen’s book back in May of 2007 and completely forgot characters and plot. How in the world did I suggest it to anyone to read with my faulty memory? I am sure it was lame, something like, “It’s a good book.”

The prologue starts with a flashback from Jacob Jankowski. He remembers a turning point in his life as it unfolds over 60 years ago. In the memory the character August is killed. In my first reading I knew Rosie killed August, but in the second reading I was sure it was Marlena. Why such a discrepancy?

In the first reading I focused on the “redlighting” of roustabouts. To redlight a person is to throw them from a moving train. It can be certain death if the subject is thrown while the train travels over a trestle. I remember two episodes in the book where our hero, Jacob, is threatened with the custom by physically being dangled out the train’s car door. In the rereading, it only occurs once. Where did this extra episode in my head originate?

What happens to your brain when they make a movie and now all you see are the actors as you read? I habitually substitute actors for characters as I read. In Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series, I picture Sandra Bullock although she has outgrown the part. If a book features a little person, I see character actor Billy Barty. Morgan Freeman looms large in my reading, too.

It shakes my brain up to see someone placed in the part that is against character. Throughout Gruen’s book brunette Marlena is constantly moving one hand up to cover her mouth. Readers can guess she is either embarrassed about her teeth or afraid of what she might say. Reese Witherspoon is neither brunette, snaggletooth nor afraid to speak; thus, wrong for the part.

Ask me about the book and for the next few weeks and I will have lots to say before I drift back into, “It’s a good book.”

Me...Jane (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 20:16:00 +0000

I believe I hold in my hands the 2011 Caldecott winner. The winner and honors will be announced in January, but this one, published in April 2011, has to be sitting at the top of the committee’s stack.

The artwork has a sepia feel. The colors are brown, yellow and green with a cream background. The art leads the little reader’s parents down memory lane while the child experiences a little girl who carries her stuffed chimpanzee, Jubilee, everywhere.

Parents will be amazed at the 19th and early 20th century engraving, while the child seeing the same images might lift his pretend arm to trumpet like the elephant or tell her father the time from a pocket watch stamp. Included on three pages of this easy book is artwork by the subject herself. Our subject has a very detailed eye.

Inspiration can be found in the pages, but readers will have different experiences. Moms and dads will dream of their child’s future. Because my child loves to play with Legos, she will become the next great architect. Our boy makes the best mud pies! He is destined to be the next Julian Childs. The child reader may not make the same connection when they see a woman touching a real chimp at the end of the book.

Laying on the cool grass and looking at the birds in the trees our main character, Jane, dreams. This small act is enough to send any child running outside to commune with nature, but Jane is also curious. She takes Jubilee to the barn where they discover the origins of chicken eggs.

Jane creates puzzles with animals as answers and she starts the first ever Aligator Society! She might have had more participants had she spelled the glorified animal correctly.

Little Jane reads and rereads books about Africa. She is especially enthralled by the Tarzan series. She climbs a tall Beech tree with Jubilee hanging around her neck. Once she reaches the top, the two sit on a limb and she pretends to swing through the jungle.

Have you guessed whom I am referring to? It is Jane Goodall!

Mark my words. Come January the committee will announce to the world that Me…Jane is the 2011 Caldecott winner. Cartoonist Patrick McDonnell, producer of the syndicated strip MUTTS, will be thrilled with his award.

Freak the Mighty (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 18:23:00 +0000

Have you ever read a book that makes you pump your fists in the air in triumph? I finished Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick last night and although sad at the end there is still this feeling of unmistakable victory.

Max is our narrator and he begins telling his story by relating the first time he met Kevin aka Freak. Max had a nickname of his own, too. He was known in preschool as Kicker. Apparently, he lashed out at anyone who got near. Day care workers, mommies, and even children covered their shins when passing Max.

When Kevin came to preschool that first day he was not quite known as Freak, yet. He was the same size as all the other students back then and his crutches were so tiny they were hardly noticeable. Um, that was before he started hitting other people with them. Day care workers, mommies, and even children began to cover their shins when Kevin passed by.

The two bonded over the similarity noting that neither one ever kicked or whacked the other during the first week together. It was a nice week for both the boys, but then Kevin did not return the next week or the following week or until some years later.

It was the first day of seventh grade when Max, towering over his classmates, saw Kevin at the entrance. Then he lost him in the sea of middle school heads. Before long Max could hear the yelps getting closer as Kevin made his way down the busy hall by whacking those close enough to step on him.

Their differences were undeniable. Max had grown two feet taller than his peers while Kevin was only a slight taller than his preschool days. Max hardly ever spoke while Kevin was want for breath between sentences. Max was assigned the learning disabled classes while Kevin would enter the advance placement classes.

Max begins the book, “I never had a brain until Freak came along and let me borrow his for a while, and that’s the truth, the whole truth. The unvanquished truth, is how Freak would say it, and for a long time it was him who did all the talking. Except I had a way of saying things with my fists and my feet even before we became Freak the Mighty, slaying dragons and fools and walking high above the world.”

Trust me. You will raise your fists in solidarity!

Unbroken (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 18:27:00 +0000

This week I got my hands on Laura Hillenbrand’s new book Unbroken and do not want to take them off. So much so that I ignore phone calls and annoying text chats so that I can read to the end of a chapter. Somehow laundry has magically been sorted, cleaned, folded, and put away while I immerse myself in the events. Oops, I confess. I take my hands off only to chew my nails to the quick!

Hillenbrand’s name may sound familiar because she wrote Seabiscuit back in 2001 that became blockbuster gold two years later. During the 10 years taken to write this new book, she remained in her bed. She suffers from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: possibly, choosing her subjects like racehorse Seabiscuit and foot racer Louis Zamperini as a way of vicariously exercising.

Unbroken begins with the ultimate in scary cliffhangers. Our running hero is lost at sea with two fellow crew members after the bomber they serve in crashes into the Pacific Ocean. Louis Zamperini is sharing a life raft with one serviceman while the other man lays tethered alongside.

During the 27 days, sharks circle and brush up against both rafts while they drift into Japanese-controlled waters. The men are burnt and displaying an odd color of yellow as their lifesaving floats deteriorates into a jelly-like substance.

The future looks gray until they hear the familiar noise of a piston engine. The men yelp and raise their arms to signal the plane as Zamperini launches two flares and pours orange dye into the water to attract the help. The plane passes by without acknowledging them.

But, wait a minute. It returns and begins to bank very low and close. Zamperini gets a good look into the man’s eyes before the plane opens fire on the stranded soldiers. All three jump into the water as their rafts take the pelting blows.

They pull themselves back into the one remaining raft as the plane circles for another run. Zamperini looks at the men and realizes they will be too weak to disembark for a second time as he enters the shark infested waters alone.

Argh! I will have to read 167 more pages to find out what happens because this is the opening preface! Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption delights.

After the Fall (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 16:39:00 +0000

Back in the 90s, I used to go to the coast with my girlfriends each summer. We were a fun group of air traffic controller wives who liked to tan, shop and dance. In the beginning, all we could afford was a drive to the coast, but later we began to fly to Clearwater Beach, Florida.

The year was 1996 or 1997. Lots of water has been under the Clearwater Bridge since then, but there is one thing I remember that still haunts me. On a trip to Ybor City for dinner and dancing it happened. Ybor City is like Beale Street where visitors walk from bar to bar in a party atmosphere with no traffic.

The drive was 45 minutes from our hotel and there were nine of us. We rented a taxi van for the night. Nothing memorable so far, but hold on. We all piled in chatting about all kinds of things when one of our most outgoing girls who sat shotgun began to flirt with the driver.

He was a young, good-looking Middle Eastern who was a tad hard to understand. Our front seat talker was very Southern in speech and their conversation was becoming comical when he asked if we were all married. With a huge yes reply, he began to tell us we look like “ladies of the evening” (my words, his started with a “W”) and that our husbands should be ashamed.

As you can imagine, we were slightly shocked hearing this from someone who expected a tip. I tore into him. Not only was I an air traffic controller wife, I used to worked there! With 300 men and about 30 women at the Memphis Enroute Control Center, I was well versed in the machismo mentality and began to pummel him with question after question.

We were dropped off at the entrance and he parked and waited for our return. With a good solid five hours of fun and libations, I entered the van ready for round two. After 15 minutes, I knew I had him. His frustration over flowed and he said, “You will be sorry; America will pay for its misdeeds. The World will know come nine-one-one.”

Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about and looked confused. “Come September 11, America will be taught a lesson. All Americans will be dialing nine-one-one.”

Can you believe it has been 10 years since 9/11? There are three new books filled with memories of that horrible day and its aftermath: After the Fall edited by Clark, Bearman, Ellis, and Smith, A Decade of Hope by Dennis and Dierdre Smith, and Until the Fires Stopped Burning by Charles Strozier.

Velva Jean Learns to Drive (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 18:49:00 +0000

I like Velva Jean. She is “all of” 10 years old and knows a thing or two about being saved. She knows that if she dies before being saved she will go straight to hell. That’s what her Daddy told her. Her Daddy says that he and her Momma pray every night that the good Lord take her if she dies, even though she’s not been saved.

Velva Jean lives with her Momma, sometimes her Daddy, Johnny Clay, Linc, and Beachard on Fair Mountain. Been like that since great-great-great granddaddy named the mountain. He thought it too bold to name after the Justice’s family, but he liked it being the same word as just.

Older sister, Sweet Fern, married off and now lives above the only store for miles, Deal’s General Store. Danny Deal is nice and sometimes Velva Jean feels sorry for him since he has to live with her sister who ain’t like her name.

Well, Velva Jean is sure that if she dies she will not get to see everyone in eternity. They all been saved and she would miss Daddy Hoyt and Granny, and Ruby Poole, and Aunt Bird and Uncle Turk, and (hard to say this-but also) Sweet Fern. Even Johnny Clay who is only a couple years older than her has the keys to the pearly gates. He was saved last year.

Isn’t she supposed to feel something as they call the lambs to the altar, though? Why does she sit like a sack of potatoes waiting? Doesn’t the spirit make you want to dance and holler like Mrs. Garland Welch? There’s no reason to walk the aisle if she is going to feel like her old self.

Author, Jennifer Niven, also likes Velva Jean. She told an audience at ALA that it was her favorite character. She wrote Velva Jean Learns to Drive after reading a short story her mother wrote that was based on the family’s history. Her next book in the series, Velva Jean Learns to Fly, goes on sale in August.

Niven is another one of those writers who are-but-aren’t Southern. Readers will not find her birth to be in the south or her rearing. Also, she lives in Los Angeles. The fact that her family is North Carolina, McJunkins, and she sets her books in the state makes her southern enough for me.

I looked at a very calm Niven as she told us she was a bundle of nerves. Her deadline for Velva Jean’s second book was nearing. She complained to her mother, author Penelope Niven, recently who replied, “It is not a deadline, but a lifeline.” Readers will enjoy Velva Jean’s life lines.

Wait Until Tomorrow (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 16:38:00 +0000

American Libraries Association’s annual conference was held this past weekend in New Orleans. Librarians went up and down escalators, through never ending corridors to find rooms in a conference center that must be five football fields long. Not complaining, I needed to walk off all the delicious local food and coffee. America might run on Dunkin, but I was fueled by Café Du Monde’s beignets.

Among all the outstanding programs for librarians, one sounded perfect for our summer challenge. It was a panel of authors sponsored by Library Journal titled, “Celebrating Southern Writers.” Library Journal is a trade publication librarians use to order books. I recognized only one author’s name in the bunch, John Hart.

The panel included Mr. Hart, Tayari Jones, Kathleen Kent, Jennifer Niven, Pat MacEnulty, and Kevin Wilson. All of the panel members live in the south, but some were not typical southern authors. One must set her book in the south to be a southern author. All except Pat Conroy, he gets a pass.

One such author is Kathleen Kent. A lovely woman who wrote “The Heretic’s Daughter” that was book talked in June 2009. The setting is Salem, MA where 10-year-old Sarah Carrier watches as her mother Martha is accused of being a witch and goes on trial.

Based on Kent’s own family history, the book was well received and Kent returned to the family lore to write another book titled, “The Wolves of Andover” that appears in paperback as “The Traitor's Wife.” In this book she follows Thomas Carrier who was the husband of Martha and also thought to be the executioner of King Charles I.

Both books are great reads, but I do not consider them southern nor do I consider her a southern author just because she lives in Texas. On the other hand, Pat MacEnulty lives in North Carolina where she sets some of her books, but has a London publisher and most southern readers do not know her body of work.

An audible “Wow” flew from my mouth when I heard she was a student of Harry Crews. It is like finding gold on Nawlin’s Canal Street. I found a woman who writes my favorite sub-genre of the south, Dirty South, and soon her memoir, “Wait Until Tomorrow,” will be devoured like a fresh beignet.

In the Sanctuary of Outcasts (re-copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 15:25:00 +0000

South of Baton Rouge sat an obscure little plantation called Indian Camp. Robert Camp ran a highly successful sugar plantation until the Civil War took all his fortunes and left the home and acreage back to the wild. The land was so isolated by the Mississippi River the only inhabitants maintained they had to fight for fishing rights with the mosquitoes who staked their claim in blood.

In 1894 the State of Louisiana took ownership of the property and designated it the Louisiana Leper Home. All Louisiana inhabitants that were diagnosed with the disease were sent to live the rest of their lives in the colony.

“The geography was perfect for outcasts. The plantation was virtually impossible to reach by land: a washed-out road with no outlet, leading to a tiny drop of land that looked like gravity had pulled it into the river’s path. It was known primarily to boat captains who navigated the sharp 180-degree turn in the Mississippi River just south of Baton Rouge.”

At first the residents had to fight with bats and snakes to live within the dilapidated house and slave quarters. They dealt daily with no running water and the very basic in sanitation as they waited for improvements from the state. A doctor from Tulane took notice and requested an order of nuns who arrived in 1896.

By 1914, the site was designated a national leprosarium and President Woodrow Wilson assigned $250,000 for the “care and treatment of people affected with leprosy.”

Today the facility is called Carville and it still houses those unfortunate enough to have contracted Hansen’s disease. On a positive note, the residents are dwindling in number since the disease is lessening and approximately 130 patients now walk the halls.

Because the facility had more beds than occupants, in 1990 the Bureau of Prisons decided to transfer federal inmates to the Federal Medical Center in Carville. On May 3, 1993, Neil White became the newest inmate.

Upon arrival, an inmate cornered him and told him he would be living with lepers now. Oh, and since he was a convict that makes him a lepercon!

“Tell-A-Tale” this coming Thursday, June 30 features Neil White telling his story of serving time in a federal penitentiary that also doubled as a Leper Colony. He will begin his talk at noon and sign paperback books afterwards. The books are $15 and include extra information not included in the hardback. Do not miss your chance to purchase his fascinating book, In the Sanctuary of Outcasts.

Mile Markers (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 17:36:00 +0000

We have been talking “a lot” about journaling here at the library this week. Jill Thomas Knox presented an excellent program on the subject and many left inspired to tell their own stories either with pencil and paper or through blogging. She also brought examples from her previous students who turned their work into art by making colorful books or scrapbooks.

Jill proved that journaling is not a boring diary with statements like, “I woke up with a pimple on the tip of my nose” or “It rained all day and I was forced to read a book,” but the format contains inspirational thoughts, poetry, doodles, bucket lists, collages, materials, etc. Almost anything goes when it comes to journaling and expressing one’s self.

Last night while perusing the local bookstore, I ran across a journal in the wacky anything-goes category. Kristin Armstrong collected her journal writings (reflections on running) into a book titled Mile Markers: The 26.2 Most Important Reasons Why Women Run.

Armstrong sees her running as, “the perfect parallel for marking the milestones of life.” There are 26 chapters in the book and each chapter discusses a different milestone she has encountered. The beauty of the book is that her milestones are the same as most women whether one runs or not, but it is based on running.

I was excited when I saw the title. I am looking for inspiration while running my first marathon. Yes, I mean “while running.” I am inspired to do it, but I know I will need to up the ante of inspiration at mile 15 or mile 20. Having run 4 half marathons, I find it hard to stay focused when I am dog-tired.

It takes more than the training of leg and arm muscles. One has to train the mind or trick the mind into staying the course. For instance, I just tricked my mind by writing that I am running a marathon. We all know that is easier said than done, but once it appears in ink I have to commit. (Insert your committed joke here.)

In the book, each chapter can be a mantra as one runs the marathon. The first chapter is titled “Warm Up” and the author gives a brief introduction of herself. I can use the words to remind me to take it slow and easy in the first mile instead of running fast by getting caught up in the race momentum.

Other chapter titles include: Play, Friendship, Purpose, Passion, Pace, Fear, and Peace. Ironically, chapter 20 is titled “The Wall.” This book may not be a normal journal, but I find it an imaginative way to record one’s bumps and scratches on the road of life.

State of the Mule Contest (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 16:40:00 +0000

Husband sought me out last night under the carport and exclaimed, “I found it!”

Not realizing something was lost, I was a little confused, “Found what?”

“Read the last sentence of the first paragraph,” he said as he stood over me grinning.

I took The Dog of the South by Charles Portis from his hands and read. "Through a tangle of branches I saw a dead mule." It was official. His beloved, all-time-favorite author had entered "Southern Literature" status. The dead mule (known in literary terms as Equine Gothic) appears in his work and now I must recognize the greatness that is Portis.

Who? The man who wrote True Grit, that is who. A comic genius (my husband’s words) wrote Southern odyssey or oddity (my words) books where a man usually down on his luck travels to procure a missing object such as his car in The Dog of the South and $70 dollars in Norwood. I highly suggest them for the Southern Reading Challenge if one is looking for quirky.

What makes a dead mule a sign of classic Southern literature? Jerry Leath Mills, in his essay The Dead Mule Rides Again explains, “there is indeed a single, simple, litmus-like test for the quality of southernness in literature, one easily formulated into a question to be asked of any literary text and whose answer may be taken as definitive, delimiting, and final. The test is: Is there a dead mule in it?”

Mills goes on to cite the many afflictions a mule may suffer and from the exact text said mule succumbs. There is asphyxiation, beating, collision with a vehicle, decapitation, drowning, fall from a cliff, freezing, gunshot wound, hanging, rabies, stab wound, overwork, and old age.

In Portis’ work it is unclear how the mule dies, but the character is to feel a sense of familiarity since he encounters the site in Central America and not his home state of Arkansas.

If you are participating in the Southern Reading Challenge be on the lookout for dead mules. The State of the Mule Contest runs throughout the month of June. When you find said mule call or e-mail me and have the book title, author and page ready for verification. We will draw from entrants and one winner will receive a gift of pecans. Good luck!

Run with the Horsemen (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 17:25:00 +0000

I picked the perfect book to start this summer’s Southern Reading Challenge! Ferrol Sams first book titled, Run with the Horsemen, is set in rural Georgia during the Depression and is loosely based on his own upbringing.

Sams began this book as a journal and it is our hope to inspire others to tell their story through journaling on June 9, at our “Tell-A-Tale” brown-bag lunch led by Senatobia High School instructor, Jill Thomas Knox.

We all have great stories and we live in an appreciative community that still enjoys the oral tradition. Why not take the time to write these stories for future generations to read. In Sams case, the stories were so intimate it worked better to recreate himself as a character and present his final book as a novel.

It is really a trilogy, but I am choosing to read the first and move on to a different author. As a librarian, I need to get a little taste here and there of different authors. When I retire, I will be able to fill in the gaps of my own making. This book leads itself to being read alone and was Georgia’s 2006 “One Book, One Community” program selection.

As mentioned earlier, it is the masked story of Sams own experiences told through the boy. Throughout the book, family names are left out and only nouns remain of the characters. There is the boy, his father and mother, a snuff dipping grandmother, and a grandfather. Some uncles and aunts have names to distinguish their relations to the boy, and all other people mentioned have names and cleverly developed character sketches.

Through reading we learn the boy’s name is Porter Osbourne, Jr. and he is extremely smart. At a young age he masters the art of lying taking cues from his many successful and unsuccessful attempts. Never done in malice, his lying is more a survival tactic since he is small for his age and matures later after high school. The boy will not be bullied.

With each chapter, the boy becomes older and wiser. Sams gives his readers the knowledge of worldly situations such as a father who drinks without the boy having the same privileges. The silly thoughts about sex are slowly crushed with each passing year as we follow the boy’s vast learning curve.

Run with the Horsemen was written in 1982 when Sams was 60-years-old. It is a classic. Do you have a life story that could become a Mississippi classic? Join us June 9, and find out.

The Pirate Coast (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 25 May 2011 17:00:00 +0000

Ahoy, mates. Can you guess which movie I saw over the weekend? There is something about a rebel pirate that really gets my imagination going. I understand that real pirates were not to be idealized, but today’s movie pirate can be rather charming. Okay, maybe I should say that I find Johnny Depp rather charming, pirate or not.

Anyhoo, I picked up Richard Zacks’ book The Pirate Coast: Thomas Jefferson, the First Marines, and the Secret Mission of 1805 for the excitement. What I found was a compelling history lesson on the early stages of the U.S. Marine Corps.

When we think of Marines we think tough—even hardcore—soldiers, but in the beginning they demanded little respect. Their only mission was to keep U.S. sailors in order. It was an inglorious task for which they were despised and scarcely feared. It took a man, heavily in debt and fresh from a court martial, to change all that.

His name was William Eaton and the area he wanted to secure was Muslim Tripoli in Northern Africa on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. This is the same shore celebrated in the Marine Hymn that begins, “From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli.” At the time, the area was notorious for excessively brutal pirates.

Eaton knew the area well having served there four years prior to the incident. He was appalled at the U.S. government for allowing slavery of Christians take place in the small African nation. Instead of fighting to secure the area from threat the U.S. Navy looked the other way and the Tunis were paid heavily to ignore American trade.

President Thomas Jefferson had a better idea. These Barbary Pirates were not going to take American citizens and place them in slavery and he was not going to pay any bribes to the local Beys. He sent orders to the small Navy and the USS Philadelphia established a blockade on the North African shores.

Unfortunately, the young Captain, William Bainbridge, ran the Philadelphia aground after giving chase to a blockade runner. He ordered the anchors cut first, then the foremasts chopped down, and finally, the cannons and ballast flung overboard to float the ship off the reef but to no avail. The crew was seized.

Later that night Bainbridge must have cursed as he watched the Philadelphia roll gently at high tide.

Southern Reading Challenge (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 18 May 2011 21:45:00 +0000

This summer join us at Northwest for the Southern Reading Challenge. For the month of June, I dare you to read three southern setting books by southern authors. They can be either fiction or nonfiction, but they have to be (and I cannot stress this enough) Southern!

Oh, but you are thinking to yourself, “I really don’t like southern books. I am a proud mystery reader.” To that I say, have you read Anne George? Unfortunately, Anne passed away in 2001, and left eight books in her “Southern Sisters” series. Every book is funny as the sisters match wits to find the killer. These books are like a box of chocolates, one cannot stop at just one.

Other mystery writers who are southern include: James Lee Burke who sets his stories in New Orleans or Louisiana, Carl Hiaasen who tickles every funny bone with his oddball characters in stories set in Florida, and Patricia Sprinkle who delights readers with her “Thoroughly Southern” series featuring MacLaren Yarbrough in small town Georgia.

Is Eugenia Price still read? My ignorance of romance novels knows no bounds. All of her books are set in the American South but they were written in the 1960s. I do remember thinking romance writers like to set their books in Texas. Some of these writers include: Rosanne Bittner, Dana Ransom, Annette Broadrick, Sandra Brown, Fern Michaels, and Diana Palmer.

The Northwest RC Pugh Library will be hosting two Mississippi writers ready for reading. Celebrate your Mississippi heritage with Patricia Dorsey who wrote a collection of poems titled, Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems. She is currently compiling her second collection and might share new poems on June 16 at a “brown bag” noontime lunch.

If you have not read In the Sanctuary of Outcasts by Neil White, you are in for a treat. He will be at the library June 30 during the brown bag lunch series to discuss his incredible story. He will also encourage participants to write their own incredible stories.

On June 23, Northwest Instructor Deborah Wilbourn will present the writings of Mississippi author, Margaret Walker. This is your chance to get lost in her historical novel Jubilee. Walker started the book as a doctoral dissertation using her grandmother’s memories of growing up as a slave in rural Alabama. Mrs. Wilbourn will also discuss Walker’s Civil Rights poetry.

So, the challenge is on! Contact me at 662-562-3277 to register and let us spend June reading hot humidity filled southern books.

Swamplandia! (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 11 May 2011 15:52:00 +0000

It is going to be a swampy summer! All this water will take time to evaporate and I foresee stagnant mosquito-infested pools in our near future. Why not celebrate with the perfect book titled “Swamplandia!” by debut author Karen Russell.

Swamplandia! is a family operated theme park in Florida on a swampy island in the Gulf of Mexico. It enjoyed being the top rated Gator-Themed Park and Swamp Café for years, but things are changing. World of Darkness moved north and everyone wants to walk on the neon tongue of the behemoth or should I say laser behe(mouth) they offer.

Back in the day, Swamplandia! entertained sold out crowds with a routine called “Swimming with the Seths.” Seth was the name given to the very first alligator that attracted tourist to the theme park. Now, all 98 gators are called Seth.

“Swimming with the Seths” was a closing act done in complete darkness. Hilola Jane Bigtree stood on the edge of a green diving board overlooking the gator infested pool. The audience would see her silhouetted body poised with arms above her head in the faint light of the moon. The spot lights were always turned off.

With a swift graceful move she would dive into the black water and swim the length emerging on the other side in three minutes. Most of the audience held their breath night after night. Some even stood and gasped as a gator or two matched her stroke side-by-side. It never failed, though. She arose from the dangerous waters unscathed to hundreds of clapping hands.

The family, Bigtree, is two less now. Hilola, the mother, died of cancer and her father, Sawtooth Bigtree, is in a retirement home on the mainland. All that is left of the tribe is Chief Bigtree, older brother, Kiwi Bigtree, and two sisters, Osceola and 13-year-old Ava Bigtree. The story is told through young Ava’s eyes.

It is Ava who discovers a rare red alligator in the newly hatched brood. She says nothing to Chief for she knows the hatchling may not live past the week. Within three days all of her brothers and sisters die of yolk sac infection, but she continues to thrive. This rare little red Seth may just save the park.

There is no muck associated with this book! “Swamplandia!’ establishes Russell’s clear, clean and fascinating prose.

Scaredy Squirrel (copy)

noreply@blogger.com (____Maggie) — Wed, 04 May 2011 17:18:00 +0000

Do you know Scaredy Squirrel? If you are a child of 3, 4 or 5, you should! Scaredy Squirrel is scared of a lot of things. Mostly, he is scared of the unknown like many preschool children. He is also scared of things he knows about, but has yet to come into contact with such as sharks, porcupines and bunnies.

The unknown can be frightening. Scaredy Squirrel decides to stay away from the unknown and always do the same things. He lives in a nut tree and decides he will never leave it. There are scary things below his tree like green Martians, killer bees, tarantulas, poison ivy, germs, and sharks. These must be avoided at all costs!

Let us concentrate on Scaredy Squirrel’s fear of germs. Before little readers can delve into one of his books there is a warning. “Scaredy Squirrel insists that everyone wash their hands with antibacterial soap before reading this book.” If he does come into contact with germs, he wears mittens on his hands as an added layer of protection.

There are some advantages and disadvantages involved with never leaving a nut tree. The ups include a great view, plenty of nuts, and a safe place. The downs include the same old view, the same old nuts, and the same old place.

To prepare for a day when he might have to evacuate the tree, Scaredy makes an emergency kit. This very important kit includes a hard hat, antibacterial soap, calamine lotion, parachute, bug spray, mask with rubber gloves, net, Band-Aid, and sardines. The sardines will be thrown at any impending sharks while Scaredy makes his getaway.

It was a normal, ordinary day when something really scary happened. Remember our friend the squirrel is afraid of killer bees, right? Well, one day there comes one lone killer bee into Scaredy’s nut tree. What does Scaredy do? He panics and throws the emergency kit out of the tree!

Not the plan! Not even the backup plan, but Scaredy recovers and makes a dive for the kit. “But something incredible happens…he starts to glide. Scaredy Squirrel is no ordinary squirrel. He’s a Flying Squirrel!”

Join Scaredy Squirrel on his nutty adventures through this wacky series by Canadian Mélanie Watt. I do caution, this story is not suitable for walruses.