Literary travel habits
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This week Wendy says, “I love reading novels which represent different countries around the world — either the author lives in that country or the book is based in that country. I have a personal challenge to read at least one novel for every country in the world… and I’m not the only blogger out there who is striving to do that. But even if you are not motivated to experience every country through books, many readers enjoy traveling the world through books… Do you deliberately read globally, and if so, do you track your reading in this area?”
Well, I have to say, no I don’t deliberately read globally. I tend to choose my next read pretty haphazardly. When I come across a review of something that strikes my fancy I just zip on over to my library website and put in a request. And when I go to pick up my holds, I often make a point of checking out a random book or two that looks interesting but that I’ve never heard of. My current Random Read (hmmm, sounds like a meme in the making…) actually is “global” — it’s Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichi — but I can’t honestly say I chose it because it’s global.
One thing that is a big obstacle for me in reading more globally is that the mental block I have about reading books with co-authors also applies to works in translation. I always worry, what if it’s not a good translation? What if the original author’s intent isn’t coming through? And how would I even know? Now that would be a good challenge for myself. I’ve been thinking about “books outside my comfort zone” since reading this Bookworms Carnival post. Books in translation… hmmm….
But, I digress. As I was saying, The Invention of Air is not only fascinating in the way it draws together such disparate threads, but it’s also incredibly entertaining. The author is a journalist, not a historian, and despite the academic-ish subject matter, it reads effortlessly. The footnotes are well hidden, and it’s clearly intended for a lay audience. I don’t know if an actual historian (or chemist or theologian) would quibble with the author on any of the points he raises, but it all made sense and sounded good to me!
Full disclosure: I read my first Orson Scott Card novel, which happened to be Ender’s Game, some time in the late 1980s. I was so totally blown away by it that I immediately sought out every other book of his that I could find. I bought his subsequent books in hardcover (!) the moment they hit the stores, unable to wait for the library. I even read the religious ones, like Saints and Stone Tables. There may be a Card book out there that I didn’t read, but not for lack of trying.
This week, 
Well, Banned Books Week isn’t until September, but if you’d like to get a head start on planning what you’re going to read that week, you could check out today’s 
Eyewitness: Car, by Robert Sutton. My 6yo says he asked the school librarian for a book about “how cars work” and she gave him this. If you’ve ever seen an Eyewitness book, you can imagine what this one is like. Basically, it’s a visual dictionary. Photographs, and lots of captions. In fact my son did carry this book around in his backpack for several weeks.
The Chocolate Touch, by Patrick Skene Catling. My daughter read this in second grade, she said, after the school librarian said she might like it. The librarian was correct; she loved it. It is a retelling of the King Midas story, only — you guessed it — instead of gold, everything he touches turns to chocolate. Yum!
Tacky the Penguin, by Helen Lester. This charming, goofy picture book is part of my kids’ elementary school library tradition. I believe it gets read to every class, every year. By the time the graduating fifth graders have it ceremoniously read to them for the very last time, there isn’t a dry eye in the house. We have a copy at home and I read it to my youngest at least once a week. It’s a great one to read out loud.
Janitor’s Boy, by Andrew Clements. The school librarian turned my older son onto this and many other books by Andrew Clements when he was in fourth and fifth grade. I have read a few of them myself and I think they are excellent. They are somewhat Judy Blume-like in their treatment of kids’ issues, but not so dated and with more of a focus on pre-teens than adolescents.
The Silver Crown, by Robert C. O’Brien. When I was in elementary school our librarian had the annoying habit of reading just the first chapter or two of a book in order to pique our interest. Often that would result in a mad dash for the book, and if there weren’t many copies you might have to wait a week or two for your turn. The Silver Crown was one like that: I remember the incredible beginning of the story (she wakes up on her birthday and finds a mysterious crown on her pillow) and then having to wait impatiently to finish it. This is by the same author who wrote Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, by the way.
Swallows and Amazons, by Arthur C. Ransome. Another one of mine. The librarian set this book aside just for me when I was in sixth grade and I remember feeling very special and privileged because of it. This is the first of a series about British kids who go sailing and have adventures all by themselves, and it was the beginning of my lifelong love affair with Nautical Lit. Forever grateful to you, Mrs. Clark, wherever you are.
Doc Savage series. This was my husband’s contribution. He wasn’t sure if it “counted” because the first book in the series was given to him by his aunt, who happens to be a school librarian. I think it counts! Anyway, I have never read these myself, but knowing my husband (and judging by the cover) I imagine they are a lot of fun to read.
In need of a comfort re-read, I pulled The Mists of Avalon off my shelf. Tee hee, it is every bit as bad as I remember it.