Sometimes, friends have suggested a book, and other times I stumble across them on my own. At Christmas time, a couple of years ago, I picked up a book for Caiden from the "Bargain Book Bin." If memory serves me, I needed one more thing for his Christmas stocking, and without putting too much thought into it, I grabbed this book: The Rover Adventures by Roddy Doyle (2008). It had three stories in one book - "The Giggler Treatment," "Rover Saves Christmas," and "The Meanwhile Adventures" - and looked like something a little boy would find amusing; the stories centre around a talking dog, afterall. Back then, Caiden still liked it when I read to him, and the two of us laughed until we cried when we read these stories. Well, I mostly laughed because I so enjoyed his laughing, but for whatever reasons, we  both really enjoyed these stories. And recently, Caiden told me that Roddy Doyle is his favourite author.
     Who is Roddy Doyle anyway? Have you heard of him?  Because he's not from around here. Sometimes it is easy to caught up in North American writers - there are so many great story-tellers here, but also because we can be narrow-minded, too. There is more to British writing than the greats that we study in school - Milton, Spenser, Chaucer (my favourite) and Shakespeare. Oh, and don't forget that lady ... JK Rowling, I think is her name. Roddy Doyle is an Irish writer, living and working from Dublin. He worked for several years as a teacher (of English and Geography), but began writing full time in 1993. Doyle has written nine novels, a non-fiction book about his parents, several short stories, and of course, he has written children's books as well. Six of them to be exact.
     One day, while studying at the (quiet) library on campus, I took note of the books on the shelf nearest me. Roddy Doyle was there. At that time, I did not realize that Doyle wrote adult fiction, as well and I could not wait to get home to tell Caiden.
     I didn't have time to read Doyle's fiction then, but I do now. I just read The Woman Who Walked Into Doors (1996).
     I'll be honest: there were times that I was so emotionally involved with Paula Spencer, the protagonist of the story, that I wondered why I was putting myself through her agony. It is a sad story; one of poverty, alcoholism, spousal abuse, murder, guilt, and trying to find a way to cope with life. It is also a story of love, because Paula Spencer loves her husband, Charlo; and she gives us (the reader) a glimpse into the psychology of a battered wife. I have studied about and worked with battered women ... their situations are cluttered with psychology and hopelessness and tragedy. Statistics Canada reports that almost 62000 women enter women's shelters for refuge from a violent partner every year; only one in four of them will report the assault to the police. On average, every six days a woman in Canada is killed by her intimate partner.
     What? In Canada? I know, it's shocking isn't it?
     The Woman Who Walked Into Doors gave me something new to think about. By that I mean, it better helped me understand the battered woman's reasoning (to stay) and her coping mechanisms, which are not always healthy, by the way. It is not always about money - Paula Spencer really truly loved her husband and she really thought that she deserved to be beated into unconsciousness. (Ladies, please know that you never deserve to beaten. EVER. Even if you are sassy, or refuse to make your husband's tea, or you don't have supper ready when he gets home from work. Not ever.)
     The weird thing is that this story was written by a man; and the weirder thing is that you would never know.
     This past year, I studied composition ... and it is where my heart lies. By considering composition, it gives new meaning to the story, it allows you to understand it in a more meaningful way. Doyle has constructed this story brilliantly. The story is not told chronologically, but anachronically. Interestingly, if you consider the chapter at the centre of the book, it reveals what is central to the story. It tells where Paula Spencer is now, where she is at in her life, where her children are, how she is coping. It talks about today. The end of the book details what happened to effect the changes that were necessary for survival. But the thing is, neither the chapter at the centre of the book, nor the final chapter give the reader that happy ending we all crave. Maybe that's because it is difficult for a battered woman to find the happy ending that she wants, too: if she stays, it means being beaten into unconsciousness; if she leaves, it means feeling lonely and pining for the man she fell in love with. 
     I have discovered that there is a second book about Paula, entitled Paula Spencer (2007). It apparently takes place ten years after the end of the first book. I'm still recuperating from this emotional upheaval ... maybe I'll read the end to Paula's tale when I'm on Christmas break.
If you want to read more about Violence Against Women in Canada, start here.

Sometimes people have a knack for choosing books. You know what I mean, right? The person chooses a book that is always interesting or grabs your attention for some reason. And that same person always orders something in a restaurant that looks better than what you ordered, don't they? In reality, it probably just means that you and that person are like-minded, and you enjoy the same things.

Caiden is this person for me.

One day, earlier this month, he brought home a book from the school library called, How to Heal a Broken Wing, by Bob Graham (2008). To be honest, I'm not really sure why he chose this book because it is actually for a much younger child. I suspect he was attracted to the picture on the front. Or the teacher announced it was time to go and he picked the book closest to him. For whatever reason, this book made its way to me. And Addison.

It is the story of a little boy who notices an injured bird on a busy city street, and he brings it home to nurse it back to health. Nothing extraordinary about that ... sounds like a typical story for a child. What attracted me to this book is that the story is told with use of pictures instead of words ... well, there are some words, but not very many.

When I "read" it with Addie C. at bedtime, a wonderful thing happened .... she told me the story. We followed the pictures along, and she told me what happened to the little birdie and the little boy. It was great to hear her perspective ... not that we don't hear her perspective on every single thing, every single day ... but this was different. It was her interpretation ... which, if you really listen to your children, can be fascinating. It can give you a peek into the person they are, and hopefully you will like what you see.

Pick up a picture book for your child some time ... it could be the best thing you ever "read" together.

Click here to learn about another one of the books Caiden introduced me to.

Do you think you have any control over your own destiny? Or are you at the hands of fate?

I have finished Holes, by Louis Sachar. It is a children's novel, and Amazon recommends it for the nine-to-twelve-year-old age group. Caiden has taken an interest in it, and is going to read it next. Do you know how great it is to share a reading experience with your child? Don't get me wrong, it is super fun to read a story to your child, and laugh together or teach something new; but it is a whole new experience when your child hears you talking about something and wants to read it for him/herself. I hope he follows through ...

Holes has been awarded no fewer than twelve awards, and if you search the Internet, you will find that it is used in classrooms across North America. It is one of those books that has found wildly popular success for no particular reason. It is well-written and all of that; and the story is unique and imaginative. But I could not say why it has triumphed over other children's novels.

Stanley Yelnats has been wrongly convicted of stealing some shoes, and the Judge sentences him to eighteen months at Camp Green Lake. He figures it will be a great way to serve his time because, since his family is poor, Stanley has never been to summer camp. However, he quickly learns that Camp Green Lake is the not the type of camp he imagined.

The boys in the camp spend their days digging holes in the hard clay dirt. It is thought that if you force a bad boy to dig one hole every day in the hot sun, he will turn into a good boy.

Stanley quickly figures out that there is more to digging the holes than trying to reform the boys. They are looking for something. And, if you want to know what they are looking for, you will have to read the story yourself. Or, make it required reading for one of your children. They'll like it ... I  promise.

According to Dictionary.com, fate is defined as that which is inevitably predetermined, or one's destiny. Did you know that "luck" is listed as synonym for fate. Luck is defined as the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping circumstances, events, or opportunities. I have never thought of luck and fate as interchangeable terms; should I?

Luck is a term used frequently in Holes. Stanley grew up being told that his family's chronic bad luck could be blamed on his "no-good-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather." Can luck determine your fate? Is your fate determined by your luck? Do you think that you will end up in the same place in life, no matter which path you take? No matter what kind of luck you have?

I believe that life is series of decisions, and your path will be determined by the choices you make. And, I do think that no matter what choices you make, you will land in the same place eventually. And by "place", I am not referring to a particular location, but rather a state of mind.  I was meant to have children ... I really believe that. I chose to aggressively pursue them, seeking medical intervention and understanding. However, I ended up pregnant (3 times) without the help of any medical professionals. I believe that I would have ended up pregnant whether I went through all those treatments or not. It was fate. And having children helped to shape the person I have become. Unfortunately, sometimes it is easier to see your fate in hindsight.

I believe that if I am to stand at the foot of the Eiffel Tower and gaze up at its amazing beauty because it is important for my personal journey, then it will happen. Maybe not next year, but sometime. But what are the things I am meant to do with or in my life, that I have not even thought about? Good or bad, I look forward to doing them. No, wait ... I look forward to the good because I really feel like I've had my share of bad.

In this respect, I feel that Stanley would have had the opportunity to meet Zero at some point in his life - whether it was at Camp Green Lake or somewhere else. Zero is another boy at the Camp, and the two boys' families share a sorted past. A past that must be rectified.

All the boys at Camp Green Lake have nicknames ... nobody is known by their "real" names. Stanley becomes Caveman; Hector is known as Zero. There is Zigzag, Magnet, X-Ray, Armpit, Squid. The boy who once slept on Stanley's cot was known as Barf Bag ... not the person's bed I would want to take over.

Some nicknames can be fun ... like Jonesy. When handed their team jersey, I believe all boys are also christianed with their new hockey name. It's easy to do ... just add "y" to the end of your last name ... Shawsy, Burkey, Velby. However, there have been exceptions, like the way St. Pierre became Saints; one guy was known as Chaz; still another was known as Body. Hold on ... us girls came up with that nickname; and it was more of a code name as opposed to a nickname. But still, that was how he was known. Sometimes, while watching a boring NHL game, I'll try to guess the players nicknames ... this is how the Jones' entertain themselves on a Saturday night in the dead of winter. Nicknames with a side of cold beer - you just can't buy that kind of fun, can you?


I never had a nickname, except DPC ... Drug Prevention Centre. I don't recall preaching, but I must have. To be honest, I never felt pressured to try drugs; although I was given the opportunity several times. I would just politely decline and move to a different area of the party. And, I really didn't care if my friends chose not to decline ... but obviously, I must have made my feelings (on the subject) clear. I didn't take offence to the nickname, and don't think there was any maliciousness intended in using the name. The girls only used it when they were making plans that they knew I would not be interested in.

"Oh ... here comes the DPC ... we'll talk about it later ..."

It is easy to speak loud and clear about something when you are confident and/or knowledgable on the topic. When your  opinion is strong. Or when your mother has preached and preached until you just believe what she has told you as fact.

I have done this to my kids, too. Never ride a motorcycle. Ever. Never, ever smoke a cigarette. Never try drugs. And, you have to nineteen to try a beer. The first two will be the easiest to enforce ...

Did you know that Stanley Yelnats is the same spelled backwards as it forwards? The fancy term for this is palindrome. I have spent a stupid amount of time trying to figure the purpose of using a palindrome. I cannot find anyone who has an answer to that question; so, I can only assume that there is no reason. Other than to make people point it out.

Maybe it was my destiny to point that out ... that there is no purpose in using a palindrome. For some reason, in my personal journey, it was important for me to learn that.

Let's hope there is more to my journey ...

Carol Shields, The Stone Diaries, is next ... looking forward to an adult story ...

In 1910, at the second International Conference of Working Women, a woman named Clara Zetkin, brought forth the idea of selecting one day, each year, in which every country in the world would recognize and celebrate women, coming together to work toward their advancement. The idea was met with unanimous enthusiasm and the International Women's Day was born.

The very first International Women's Day was held on March 18, 1911. Today is the 99th year it will be celebrated.

I am a strong believer that a woman can do anything a man can do. I believe that a woman could be the one to find the cure for cancer; I believe a woman could build a garden shed - if she wanted to; and I believe that nobody can kiss away the hurt, better than a woman. And, I also believe that my daughters can do whatever they set their minds to - professionally or personally. They will have many opportunities afforded to them. But it has not always been that way for women. So, take some time today and appreciate the women of the world, and the things they have accomplished. The Moms and the Gramas, those who have risen to the tops of their professions, those who struggle, those who lead, those who teach, those who heal, those who you admire for whatever reason. Celebrate their greatness, and not just because they are women, but because of who they are as people.

In acknowledgement of International Women's Day, I decided to investigate the women of Canada. I could write about my Mom, or my mother-in-law, or my Grama, or a neighbour that was a great friend to me when I was a teenager - they are all truly great women and wonderful role models. But I wanted to reach out, broaden my knowledge of the women who had made a difference in Canada, and I was drawn to one woman in particular ... the first woman to sell more than one million copies of her book. And guess what? Hers was the first book written by any Canadian author to do it - man or woman.

Margaret Marshall Saunders was born on May 18, 1861 in Nova Scotia. She grew up the daughter of a minister and co-founded the Maritime Branch of the Canadian Women's Press Club with Lucy Maude Montgomery. Who is Lucy Maude Montgomery, you ask? She wrote the Anne of Green Gables series - I'm sure you've heard of it, especially if you were once a little girl who grew up in Canada.

While visiting her sister in Meaford, Ontario, Ms. Saunders heard the story of a rescued dog, who had been horribly abused, and was inspired to write Beautiful Joe. The tale is told in the voice of the dog, and has been selected as one of the top-ten children's books in Canada. It was first published in 1893, and by the 1930's had sold more than 7 million copies world wide. It was also the first Canadian novel to be translated into Esperanto, and then later into fourteen different languages. Not bad for a woman who originated from a small town on the east coast of Canada.

I think I have located a copy of Beautiful Joe, so you can expect that it will be one of those substitutes I have talked about previously.

Ms. Saunders spent her life advocating for women's rights and the humane treatment of animals; she continued writing as well. Her home was always filled with pets, and she liked to name them after the location they were found; my favourite is a little doggy named Johnny Doorstep. Ms. Saunders died on February 15, 1945, at her home in Toronto. She was eighty-five years old.

And so, I will spend some moments today thinking of all the great women I know ... and some I wish I had met.

As I am sure you can imagine, I have read many, many children's books. More than one hundred in one year, for sure. And, occasionally, I come across one that I love so much I want to tell the world about it.

Caiden brought home The Boy Who Loved Words by Roni Schotter from the school library this week. He also brought it home when he was in Senior Kindergarten; so, there must me something about the book that attracts him. It is the story of a little boy, named Selig, who loves words ... their sound, their meaning, their taste. And he writes them on little pieces of paper so that he can remember them. He is different from the other children and, of course, he is teased. Little Selig becomes embarrassed by his hobby and obsession. As he grows a little older, Selig comes to embrace his talent and love of words, finding a way to make them useful. And, thus, a way to make himself feel useful.

The vocabulary used in the story is great ... even I learned a couple new ones. My favourite is tintinnabulating, which means making a sound like bells. I love words that describe a sound ... crinkle, scrunch, mellifluous, giggle. Do you have a favourite word? In conversation, apparently I use the word "apparently" a great deal because Caiden now uses it. That is one of the hallmarks of great parenting ... when your kids start to talk like you. Apparently, it's true; because I hear myself saying the same things my mother used to say. Apparently.

The Boy Who Loved Words is a wonderful story about staying true to yourself and finding pride in your talent, even if it makes you different from others. So, if you have a young friend, who has a special gift that makes him/her unique, consider this book for a gift. S/he is not alone.

Little Selig so reminds me of my Caiden, and so it interests me that he is attracted to this story, too. And when he finds a use for all his special talents, look out world ... 'cause there will be no stopping him!