Book Review: The Little Book of Rock Painting

I have several creative friends in my life, and as an excuse to gather us together, I scheduled a rock painting night. Had I ever done so before? Nope. But it seemed a perfect activity to relax us while we socialized and decompressed at what is a busy time of year for all of us.

I was searching websites for advice, and only after I'd picked up some rocks and some oil-based paint pens did I stumble upon The Little Book of Rock Painting. I couldn't resist looking into this title to learn about basics of rock painting. This book focuses more on using acrylic paints, but as I already had paint pens on hand, I was most interested in the delightful tutorials that were offered.

I am in awe of what this book allowed me to create. I was intimidated at the skill level of some of the projects, but I boldly jumped in and, due to the clear instructions and pictures, I was able to follow along and end up with beautiful rock art.

Here is a photo of my creations. I heartily recommend this book to offer basics on how to begin, but especially for the quality of the instructions, tutorials, and templates. I enjoy creative ventures but don't feel that I have innate drawing ability; however, this book taught me how to make it look like I am more skilled than I am! The spectrum of complexity is also welcome - I suspect my eight-year-old daughter, who is adept at art, could tackle the more detailed projects, whereas my five-year-old daughter would stick with some of the more basic ideas.

(I received a digital ARC from Quarto Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: Coffeehouse Knits

I began knitting around the time I was engaged to be married nearly 16 years ago (I brought my first project -- a ribbed scarf -- on my honeymoon for travel knitting). I intentionally developed my skills and am not intimidated to tackle stuffed animals, socks, shawls, or sweaters.

As my abilities and confidence have grown, I can also pinpoint ways knitting has brought dear people into my life through two specific examples. I had a knitting group form organically, starting with just two of us at a local coffeeshop and growing to around a dozen friends committed to meeting weekly and sharing the nitty-gritty of our lives together. When I was pregnant, I also joined an online due-date group within the Ravelry forums, and those initial shallow interactions about what we were making for our child(ren) or how our pregnancy was going have grown over the years to be an intimate group that doesn't hesitate to share about marriage difficulties, parenting struggles, job transitions, or moving opportunities. These friendships began over a shared love of knitting and grew deep.

Coffeehouse Knits was a visually engaging book to review, and it's framed around how public spaces like coffeeshops are natural gathering sites for knitting groups. The patterns within have names like Chai Latte Cowl and Latte Swirl Sweater. I've recently been turning my attention to creating cowls and shawls, so I was most drawn to the cowl and scarf patterns. Interspersed are essays reflecting on the value of knitting groups. I found the essays within a little uneven, but a couple later ones did connect with me and convey similar thoughts to the power of crafting to draw people together.

Coffeehouse Knits could be just the gift for a friend in your knitting group.

(I received a digital ARC from F+W Media via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: A Thank You Walk

When I was young, my maternal grandpa loved to take me on walks. One of his favorite stories he would recount to me when I was older was about the time I spotted a robin ahead of us on the sidewalk. I hunched down and watched it intently for several minutes, then I tried to waddle after it to get closer. It looked at me and, apparently not sensing a threat, let me approach. My Grandpa Claire was just tickled every time when he'd describe how we were practically nose to beak, studying each other.

I now have fond memories of taking my daughters walking around town. It began with exploring my Indiana neighborhood when I had only one daughter, who sometimes slept in the stroller during these excursions. Now I get to take both of my girls to my favorite Wisconsin trails. We might notice birds flying overhead or pinecones and acorns scattered on the ground. When we are along the river, there might be boats that catch our eye or conversations carried across the water that we pick up on. The slow pace of these walks allows us to seek out details we'd miss if we were rushing by in a car, and it gives us opportunities for conversations we might not otherwise have.

Bright Start -- A Thank You Walk is a short picture book that shows a mother and child enjoying each other's company while they take a walk. They notice the chirping birds at the feeder and the mom narrates how they are thanking them for the food. Through this modeling in other examples, at the close of the story, the young child helps a beetle turn upright and, as the insect flies away, the child declares that it is thanking them for intervening.

It is a darling, sweet read that enforces the special moments that can take place through a short walk and models how meaningful simple conversations can be in such a setting. And I'm thankful for the way it called to mind the special story my grandfather would tell me; he is now gone, and it was a treat to recall his joy when telling stories such as the one I shared above.

(I received a digital ARC from Quarto Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: The Western Wind

The Western Wind is a rich story using the framework of 15th century England as its setting. John Reve is the priest of a small town, and we observe events in the days immediately before Lent.

When the richest villager dies, the priest and the dean are seeking out whether it was accidental or, if not, whether he was murdered or committed suicide. The story is told in reverse order - the first chapter is Day 4: Shrove Tuesday, the next chapter is Day 3, and so on. Even the chapter's sub-headings are mirror opposites. This technique suited the storytelling well. We gain more insight as we read the preceding day, filling in the blanks or unknowns that were mentioned in passing.

Due to the timing of the church calendar, as well as an offer of a pardon, we are witnessing the priest hearing confessions in each section, and through his words and actions, it's evident he dearly loves his village and wants to do what is best for them. I found the lists of confessions at times amusing, provocative, or heartbreaking:

"Father, I slept all day, I cut a hole in a wall to spy on a woman, I shovelled some of my no-good-clay onto my neighbour's plot, I stole the last spoonful of honey instead of offering it to my husband, I ate the lucky egg, I cursed my father, I swore, I snored, I farted, I doubted."

This is a well-written, thoughtful book that takes on themes of guilt, forgiveness, grief, and secrecy. When you finish, you will be tempted to read it again, this time in reverse (and, thus, in chronological) order and find someone to process it with you. It's a beautiful read.

(I received a digital ARC from Grove Atlantic via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Many of my generation grew up with Fred Rogers' gentle presence on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, and I was delighted to learn of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood premiering when my oldest was a toddler. When I learned of a book about to be published that contained 75 songs, I was delighted.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is a welcoming picture book with both new and familiar songs. Some might present better if you know the tune, but the messages conveyed are valuable.

Charming illustrations sprinkle the pages, and the simple words are affirming and encouraging. Are the poems masterpieces? Maybe not, but they possess truths we need to hear in simple words anyone can grasp.

Repeatedly though these pages, Fred Rogers reminds us that we are enough, just as we are. That we are creative and bright. That we are amazing and can do and be our best. That we can and do have big feelings, but those strong emotions are worth naming and processing.

I found myself slowing down as I read, breathing deeply and becoming calm and peaceful while reading. This book is a gift to treasure, much as Fred Rogers' legacy is.

(I received a digital ARC from Quirk Books via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: I Owe You One

Something comes over me when fall starts to transition to winter and there's that noticeable anticipation of Christmas. For the rest of the year, I tend to be pretty snooty when it comes to movies. I love a captivating story with strong character development, more often a drama than a comedy. However, there is something about the genre of holiday movies that has me throwing all discernment to the wind. They are formulaic as all get out, I mock them mercilessly, and yet I keep coming back for more.

I found myself reflecting on this tendency I have to recognize how these stories are far from great and are the opposite of surprising, and yet for a couple weeks every year, I seek them out. There's a comfort in knowing all will end up well and nothing truly horrible will happen; any losses or shortcomings will be redeemed by the end.

I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella has some of those similarities for me. Fixie is our protagonist. She's clever at solving problems and has a close relationship with her widowed mother as they run the family store. However, when her mom goes abroad and entrusts the store to Fixie and her siblings, tension arises. There's the brother with aspirations of greatness, who wants to take the comfortable store and the ordinary customers they have and transform them into something flashy, in hopes of catering to a new crowd, expenses and relationships be damned. There's the glamorous sister who is self-absorbed and all about projecting the right image. And then there's Fixie, whose weakness is her inability to stand up for herself since she feels inferior to her siblings. She lets an infatuation from her childhood steer her off course. Then there's a chance coffee-shop meeting, where Fixie, doing what she does best, earns an IOU from a stranger.

I couldn't help but get annoyed by specific plot points and anxious about business decisions. I Owe You One is predictable, it's not great literature, and the characters could accurately be called caricatures. Readers will easily spot the relationships that are strong and for the mismatched ones, readers will be quick to know the right pairings (and don't get me started on how frustrated I get when there's this clear longing and yet they stay with the miserable partner until circumstances change and there's no grieving the loss as they jump, without pause, into a new relationship). I have to suspend disbelief that some of the characters make the marked changes that they do. However, there was something delightful about turning off my brain and just going along for the ride as Fixie wrestles with what it means to put "Family First," both in who falls into the family classification, as well as what it truly means to sacrifice for them. I'd give this read 3.5 stars; pick this up if you want the equivalent of a story that won't stretch you but will resolve well in the end. Given the right mood, I can see myself seeking out another Kinsella title when I need a comfortable read.

(I received a digital ARC from NetGalley and Random House in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: The Red Address Book

In The Red Address Book by Sofia Lundberg, Doris is an elderly woman who acknowledges her death is imminent. She has one great niece who is dear to her; as they live in different countries, their connections are limited to Skype sessions. While Doris values those encounters, she doesn't want Jenny to be unaware of the life Doris lived as a young woman, a life that spans countries, beginning with the circumstances that cause Doris to be sent away from home at a young age to work as a servant, only to be welcomed into the live mannequin world, filled with glamour and drudgery. Love, loss, and heartache follow.

Doris takes to typing up her life story, both in hopes Jenny will be able to come into possession of the stories and to fill her empty days. The story is framed by the entries in her red address book, nearly all of whom are deceased. Some individuals only warrant one chapter, others we return to repeatedly.

Both the flashbacks and the present-day sections are engaging and their juxtapositions give us pause as we try to make the transition, much as Doris experiences when she's deep in a captivating flashback, only to be returned to the present day with an impatient caregiver and the reality of her failing body.

The Red Address Book is a solid story. It may not linger with me after having completed it, but the experience was pleasant.

(I received a digital ARC from NetGalley and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: The Rock That is Higher

In The Rock That is Higher: Story as Truth, readers are offered a collection of essays as Madeleine L'Engle describes a pivotal time in her later life. Madeleine L'Engle, at 72, was in a serious car accident that led to a long rehabilitation. As she recounts her experience and speculates on why her life was spared instead of being allowed to die, she reveals her frank reflections at that vulnerable time.

Sarah Bessey wrote the foreword; Bessey recently had a car accident that left her with a long recovery and persistent health issues/pain; during that time, she encountered this book and it had special significance for her.

While L'Engle's accident and recovery are the framework, returned to time and again, this book centers around the power of stories, how they can transcend and connect us. Each chapter focuses on a separate component of stories: "Story as the Search for Truth," "Story as a Redemptive Act," and so on. Madeleine L'Engle also uses this book to reinforce how her faith impacts her views on stories.

I found this a thoughtful book with many insights I marked because of the way they would make me pause to take them in.

(I received a digital ARC from NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: Unmarriageable

Jane Austen's classic novels have undergone numerous retellings, and Pride and Prejudice may be foremost in such attentions. In Unmarriageable, Soniah Kamal frames the familiar story of Pride and Prejudice in a present-day setting of Pakistan. This works exceptionally well. Other modern locales may feel stilted when trying to explain a mother's fierce interest in marrying off her daughters and growing anxious as the older girls fail to find matches, but in a culture of arranged marriages, it fits perfectly.

There's an interesting juxtaposition of some characters being aware of Pride and Prejudice while they also unknowingly play it out; the book opens with the familiar first sentence, rewritten as part of a homework assignment: "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl can go from pauper to princess or princess to pauper in the mere seconds it takes for her to accept a proposal."

Alysba Binat is an English teacher at the local British school; she is adept at connecting with her students, but her position came about when her family fell on financial difficulties after an uncle charged with managing their money transferred their fortune to his own coffers. Alys uses her authority in the classroom to challenge girls to push against the status quo instead of following the expected trajectory to marry early and give up on education and any career aspirations.

Those familiar with Austen's story will find the names will ring familiar: Jena is Alys' older sister, and her younger sisters are Mari, Lady, and Qitty.  Instead of dancing at balls like the Bennett sisters, the Binat sisters find themselves invited to attend the coveted NadirFiede wedding celebrations. Slightly altered plot points take place as Jena and Fahad Bingla connect and Alys and Valentine Darsee spar.

I have no doubt this story is fully accessible for readers who have never encountered Austen's Pride and Prejudice, but having that framework made it enjoyable, and I'm impressed with how well it translated to a Pakistani setting, where a scandal late in the book causes reflections of the sort that are timeless when viewed from cultures where image is more important than truth: "Shame on their society, where maintaining unsoiled reputations was considered more vital than exposing scoundrels, for such secrets only allowed the scoundrels to continue causing harm."

Such treatment shows how timeless the original work is, since writers continue to revisit it to put their own spin on a classic story. Kamal's Unmarriageable is one of the best modernizations I've encountered.

(I received a digital ARC from NetGalley and Ballantine Books in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)

Book Review: Inkling

In Inkling, we meet Ethan, a middle-school boy who encounters a sentient blob of ink that has escaped from the dad's sketchbook. He learns the ink needs to devour words and images, much as humans also need nourishment, and as it feeds on books, it gains knowledge. Ethan learns the quality of the material he feeds Inkling impacts his personality; comic books lead to frenetic, wild Inkling, Anne of Green Gables and other classics lead to a more thoughtful, measured blob.

Ethan and his sister are being raised by a single dad, since the mother died from cancer; there's a growing understanding that Inkling came to be in order to heal the pain and distance that have resulted between Ethan and his dad, as well as to resolve the creative block that has stymied the dad's artwork.

Inkling can create, and this is where much of the tension resides. Ethan tries to find a balance on making a storyboard draft for his class project before letting Inkling transform it, but when his dad and others get access to Inkling, their motives are less pure and more exploitative.

I imagine this as a wonderful book to offer to children whose previous reading experiences were strictly comic book or graphic novel form. While I appreciate those genres, this could be a well-placed gateway book to interest them in the structure of more traditional chapter books given the periodic illustrations and the content focusing on comic books and storyboards.

(I received a digital ARC from NetGalley and Knopf Books for Young Readers in exchange for my honest review. I've used Amazon Affiliate links here; should you purchase through these links, I receive a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)