Josie Lynn Books: Imagine the Possibilities

Category: Bookworms Unite!

  • Bad Spellers Untie

    The first time I saw this slogan on a T-shirt in a Signals catalog (not that I’m promoting Signals…not that I’m not promoting Signals…I’m just saying), I liked it because on the spelling continuum I fall somewhere in the dead middle—not the world’s best speller, not the world’s worst speller. To put it mildly, I’m in no danger of winning any spelling bees. I’m not proud of that. Once again, I’m just saying.

    In fifth grade, I was the class champion when it came to state capitals. (I might be a little proud of that.) I was the speed locater of states on our pull-down map in the front of the classroom. But stand me up in front of people and ask me to spell out loud I’m more than likely going to choke. “I before E except after C…” Except that that’s not entirely true. So many rules, so many exceptions to the rules. Things aren’t always what they sound like. Good grief! (Or is it “greif”? Just kidding. I know!)

    Watch this hilarious clip from the Tony Awards (at least through 2:44)

    Can You Raed This?

    A long while ago, a friend sent me an e-mail that asked the question, “Can You Raed This?” and claimed that according to a “study” at “Cmabrigde Uinervtisy” it has been determined that the order of letters in a word is unimportant as long as you get the first and last letter correct. It had something to do with how we don’t look at every single letter when reading a word, but at the word as a whole.

    As an average/bad/not great speller, this notion sounded good to me. Unfortunately, it turns out that the email was spurious, untrue, an urban myth. The order of letters in a word is important after all. Too bad.

    Untie, Unite

    However, something that did give me hope was raeding, urm, reading a little book called Love and Freindship [sic], a pretty hilarious tale in which a teenage Jane Austen basically makes fun of the romantic novels that were popular in her day. The book contains misspelled words, and I find it encouraging to note that Jane wasn’t all that fastidious about the order of letters in every single little word; she was too concerned about the order of the words themselves.

    If only Jane had reminded herself that friend is spelled friend because a true friend is loyal to the end….

    The bottom line is, I love words, but I’m not a huge fan of spelling. Neither was Jane Austen. That’s what editors are for.

    Which brings me to the crux of the matter. Could it be that, as a writer, I feel that details like spelling are too nuts and bolts and get in the way of the creative flow? I hope not. Because no matter how amazing your words are, if no one can decipher them or if they have to spend too much time deciphering them, your writing is not going to bring anyone any pleasure. And while the idea of a fourteen-year-old bad speller who grew up to be Jane Austen is quaint, the idea of me sending you poorly spelled emails is not.

    Of course, as a self-published author, one must pay attention to things like spelling and such. One must grow up, just like Jane Austen went from Love and Freindship to Pride and Prejudice….

    Note: The story Love and Freindship has nothing in common with the 2016 movie Love & Friendship. That movie is based on Jane’s novel Lady Susan. In the story Love and Freindship, teenage Jane Austen writes: 

    “One fatal swoon has cost me my Life… Beware of swoons Dear Laura…. A frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is an exercise to the Body and if not too violent, is I dare say conducive to Health in its consequences—Run mad as often as you chuse; but do not faint—”

    Wise words indeed, even if some of them are spelled rather creatively.

  • Literary Allusions…Not Illusions

    I have blogged quite a bit about Pride and Prejudice for the simple reason that I happen to love Pride and Prejudice. I love the characters. I love the story. I love the writing.

    However, lest I give the impression that my obsession with appreciation of Jane Austen’s writings begins and ends with Pride and Prejudice, I would like to take this opportunity to say a few things about Northanger Abbey.

    For the longest time, I regarded Northanger Abbey as a throwaway Jane Austen novel, the one you could skip reading and simply watch the movie, if that. Perhaps this was because I saw the 1987 BBC movie first and found it dull, dreary, and dismal, giving one the impression that one was watching it on television set that was in the process of dying a slow, painful death, whether or not this was the case.

    I couldn’t get into the story. I couldn’t get behind any of the characters. I thought the whole idea was implausible and I simply didn’t care about any of it. At all.

    However, when Masterpiece Theater was rebranded as Masterpiece all of those years ago and all of the hopelessly dated 1970s and 1980s versions of Jane Austen movies (except for Pride and Prejudice) were revamped, I watched them all and, for the first time, Northanger Abbey piqued my interest. Prompting another, this time successful, attempt to read the novel.

    The curious thing, however, is how much it reminded me of my middle-grade novel, Maxwell Parker, P.I.,1 in that:

    1. The heroines are both avid readers
    2. Both heroines have overly active imaginations
    3. Both heroines have an unnatural interest in guts, gore and gruesomeness
    4. Both heroines suspect someone of an atrocity and then take steps to investigate

    My novel Maxwell Parker, Love Doctor, the sequel to Maxwell Parker, P.I., seems to be loosely based on Emma, another Jane Austen novel I came to late in my Jane Austen reading experience. Ironically enough, I started to/attempted to read Emma when I was about ten or eleven years old. I picked it up off the shelf at the library and opened up to the first chapter and read the first line: “Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

    Miss Austen, I regret to inform you that this first line did not speak to ten-year-old me. Bratty, over-privileged Emma Woodhouse did not seem like a kindred spirit and I had no desire to spend any time with her, so on the library shelf she remained, and I did not become an Austen fan until I was sixteen-years-old and met kindred spirit, Elizabeth Bennet, whose opening line I much preferred. No matter. I like the book now, although, like my heroine, Maxwell, I still find Emma to be “so annoying.”2

    Just for the record, neither of my two Maxwell Parker books were intended to be reimagined Jane Austen books. Any resemblance is entirely a happy coincidence. However, I am in the process of writing a third Maxwell Parker book, and which, if any, Jane Austen book will end up inspiring it is anybody’s guess right now. As they used to say, back in the days before streaming and on-demand programming, stay tuned.

    1. Maxwell Parker, P.I. was published in 2014, but it was written long before I watched the 2007 version of Northanger Abbey. ↩︎
    2. Maxwell Parker, Love Doctor, p. 262 ↩︎

     

  • Review of The Scarlet Pimpernel

    I was first exposed to The Scarlet Pimpernel by my ninth grade English teacher whose approach to teaching ninth grade English seems to have been getting literature down the throats of teenagers by any means necessary. More often than not, this meant ssphowing us the movie version of novels rather than actually requiring us to read them. One spring day, we watched the 1982 version of The Scarlet Pimpernel with Anthony Andrews and Jane Seymour. I was smitten.

    Shortly thereafter, I found a used copy for sell at my local public library and for just $0.25 the world of Sir Percy Blakeney and Marguerite Blakeney was mine! I devoured it. Twice smitten.

    The Scarlet Pimpernel is a cat and mouse tale of an English nobleman who is hell-bent on saving his French counterparts from the bloody blade of the guillotine during the French Revolution. He has the annoying habit of leaving the symbol of a red flower (a scarlet pimpernel) behind as a calling card and this has made everyone curious about his identity. The English have put him on a pedestal; the French have put a price on his head.

    The book is filled with adventure, near-misses, secret identities, lies, espionage, shocking revelations, an arch-nemesis, and things that could/would never happen in real life, forcing you to suspend disbelief (just a tad). But that’s why we read fiction, isn’t it? I know there are a myriad of other reasons we read fiction, but sometimes it does come down to escapism, pure and simple.

    However, despite all of the high drama, danger and excitement, there is a part of me that sees The Scarlet Pimpernel simply as a love story. Not as a simple love story; maybe, and perhaps more accurately, a love triangle along the lines of the Clark Kent-Lois Lane-Superman love triangle.

    Marguerite is married to Sir Percy, but she is in love with the idea of another whose initials also are S.P. (hum…) Sir Percy seemed like a decent guy when she agreed to marry him but alas, now he seems doltish, and what’s even worse, he seems quite indifferent to her. Sir Percy and Marguerite’s marriage is in crisis. True, it’s not as big a crisis as the French Revolution, but Baroness Orczy has skillfully juxtaposed one against the other. As the drama of the revolution plays out in the background and the world (well, France) falls apart, we can quietly explore the anatomy of a failing marriage (and possibly contemplate such questions as: How well can you really know the person closest to you? Do you only know what he/she chooses to reveal to you? Could you forgive the ultimate betrayal? Did those glasses really fool Lois Lane? Really?!)

    In the end, The Scarlet Pimpernel is a sweet and tender tale that proves you can never hide your true essence from the one who loves you best.

    Plus, it’s about a hero. We can never have too many heroes. The Scarlet Pimpernel is one for the ages.

  • Review of Best Friends for Frances

    best friends for frances

    My little sister purchased the print and audio versions of this book at the book fair when we were little kids. We read and listened to it incessantly (well, we stopped to eat, sleep, and go to school), but most of our other waking hours for about a week or so were consumed with Best Friends for Frances by Russell Hoban (writer) and Lillian Hoban (illustrator).

    Frances and Albert are best friends. They are also badgers who do not wear clothes, but that is completely irrelevant and only an issue if you are reading the book. Personally, as a child, I preferred listening to the book because of the cute, clever, and catchy songs (although, the illustrations are perfectly delightful, too).

    Albert proves to be a bad best friend (a bbf, which is quite different than a bff) because he chooses to play baseball with the boys and leaves bf Frances (a girl) out in the cold. Frances is not a happy badger.

    She decides to teach Albert a lesson by fixing a picnic that includes all of his favorite, mouth-watering treats and inviting her little sister, Gloria (previously thought to be a too-little-to-play-with pest) to go on a best-friends-no-boy-outing.

    Frances’s ploy works. Albert comes crawling back to her with his tail (yes, badgers do have tails) between his legs. And Frances learns that little sister Gloria is not a pest, but can also be a friend.

    And we all learn valuable lessons about being a true friend, being more inclusive, and learning to like your younger siblings (they have a lot to offer…my younger sister shared her book with me!) In other words, or as Frances puts it, we’re not just friends ‘when it’s goodies in the hamper time.’

  • Review of Harvey’s Hideout

    I decided to dedicate this post to a review of an old childhood favorite, in honor of Throwback Thursday.Harveys hideout

    Harvey’s Hideout, written by Russel Hoban and illustrated by Lillian Hoban, is the first book I remember holding in my hand as a very small, pre-preschool-aged child.

    It is the charming story of two muskrat siblings, Harvey and Mildred, who are having some “issues” getting along. Harvey is the “stupid, no-good” little brother who annoys his older sister Mildred, who in turn is “mean and rotten.” In truth (and as their muskrat father wisely points out) neither is really stupid, no-good, mean, or rotten. They just seem that way to each other. Ah…memories of childhood.

    Not that my older sister was ever quite as mean to me as Mildred was nor was I ever quite as bratty or annoying as Harvey.  Still, the colorful illustrations depicting the idyllic family life of a muskrat family charmed me and provided ample fodder for  my imagination. I wanted a party dress like Mildred’s and fantasized that when I ran away from home, I’d carry my belonging in a bindle (bag on a stick) like Harvey.

    I found this book several years ago at a second-hand book store and, reading it as an adult, I was happy to see that it hasn’t lost its charm. I still love the colorful illustrations which probably endeared muskrats to generations of readers, which was a feat in itself. I mean, I’ve seen muskrats in person, and they are not this adorable. But, I must say, this time around, I appreciated the book’s very realistic portrayal of sibling interactions.

    Then there was the joy of finding all of the things that went over my head as a child (which were probably snuck in just to give parents a chuckle) for instance the part where the muskrat children list all the children in the neighborhood and the reasons they may or may not be suitable playmates…(they are not allowed to get mixed up with the weasels).

    Hilarious.

    Reading this as an adult reminded me what a gift siblings can be. At the end of the day, all you really have is each other and that’s a lot. What a nice lesson to find in a children’s book.

    I wonder if this book is the real reason my sisters and I always got along so well.

  • The Day the TV Died (AKA The Best Day of My Life)

    COUCHPOT

    I was six years old when our TV died. The truth was, the picture had been fading for some time before it for once and for all breathed its last, but since I had never witnessed the demise of a TV, I continued watching in sheer, blissful ignorance, completely oblivious to the now obvious fact that our beloved magic tube was about to buy the farm.

    One fateful morning, before heading for the bus stop, I was watching Captain Kangaroo and the picture began to implode. There is no other word for it. The picture gradually began to close in on itself until there was just a teeny, tiny dot of light that eventually…went…away. There was a faint “poof” and the TV went dark one final time, never to see the light of day again.

    My parents made what turned out to be a fortuitous decision to not replace the TV, at least, not immediately. Having no TV to watch, I turned to books for entertainment. I’d been a somewhat avid reader before the demise of the TV, but now I began to ferociously devour them. I read everything in our house that had writing on it: cereal boxes, old magazines, not to mention every single book my parents owned, including an old college textbook about Greek mythology. Then I turned my attention to the children’s section of the local library and systematically began reading my way through it, starting at the end of the alphabet and working my way back to the beginning. I read as if my life depended on it, as if the world was ending.1

    When my parents finally replaced the TV several years later, my reading habits were firmly established, so even though I resumed my great like for television, nothing could ever supersede my love affair with books.

    This, in my opinion, is a classic example of how to make lemonade out of that bag of lemons handed to you by this thing called life. And it’s proof that when you grow up you will appreciate some of the seemingly mean or unfair things your parents did to you. They aren’t always trying to ruin your life. Sometimes they really do know best.

    1. Speaking of those two things (…reading and the end of the world…) reminded me of a painfully ironic Twilight Zone episode called Time Enough At Last. ↩︎

  • I Hate to Burst Your Bubble, But…

    Today, for some reason I was thinking about my all-time favorite rom-com, While You Were Sleeping, specifically the line towards the beginning where Lucy says about her father:

    He would get these far-off looks in his eyes and he would say ‘Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.’ I just wish I’d realized at the time, he was talking about my life.

    Ah, the bubble bursting moment. We’ve all had one. The moment of realization that (1) there is no such thing as a free lunch, (2) pie in the sky is merely an illusion, or (3) it is only a paper moon.

    I remember a friend telling me that she saw The Way We Were when she was eight years old and it ruined her life. I didn’t ask her what she meant, because I assumed I knew. I assumed she meant that before she saw The Way We Were she thought life (her life) would be peachy keen and she’d grow up and be happy for ever after. The Way We Were destroyed her faith in the happy ending. How could it not?

    My bubble was burst when I read Little Women. I was nine. I loved Jo and I loved Laurie. I loved LaurieJo. I thought they were THE PERFECT COUPLE. I, like Laurie, never understood Jo’s reluctanceLittle Women 2 to elevate their relationship from platonic best chums to a bona fide boy-girl thing. Jo’s refusing Laurie broke my heart into as many pieces as it broke his.

    I’ve tried to be mature and philosophical about it. I told myself that Jo and her mother were right, she and Laurie were too much alike, they would have made themselves miserable if they had been “so foolish as to marry.” But I didn’t agree with her decision then, and there’s a part of me (especially after reading Little Men) that still doesn’t. Jo and Laurie were undeniably best friends and, in my opinion, you should try your level best to marry your best friend, especially if he is as wonderful and as hopelessly devoted to you as Laurie was to Jo.

    Despite all of my trying to come to grips with a decision made by a fictional character (hum…maybe a little perspective is in order), the thing that finally helped me get over my deep and profound sadness that Jo didn’t marry Laurie, the thing that finally restored my bubble to its pre-bubble burst state was the movie Anne of Avonlea. The proposal scene in that film is—funnily enough—lifted right off the pages of Little Women instead being taken from the book (Anne of the Island) that it’s based on. I’m not sure why writer/director Kevin Sullivan opted to use Louisa May Alcott’s words instead of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s, but I am grateful because in an odd way, it provided me with needed closure.

    And by the way, have you ever noticed that when someone starts a sentence with the words, “I hate to…” they then proceed to gleefully do what they claimed to hate to have to do?

    More on that next time.

     

  • The Problem With Book Clubs

    Or why I (personally) don’t like Book Clubs

    Disclaimer: Any views or opinions presented in this post are solely those of the (sometimes over-opinionated) author and do not necessarily represent anything other that what she felt like expressing at a particular moment in time. It is quite possible she will feel differently at a later time.  Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental (so please, no offense). No animals were harmed in the writing of this post, because, well…harming animals is wrong.

    Now that that legal bit of business is out of the way, I invite you to view a commercial which pretty much sums up why I don’t relish the thought of joining a book club.

    [vimeo 35919418 w=500 h=281]

    It’s because I harbor the fear that that guy will want to join or will have already joined. In either case, I would have to quit the club and run for the hills, because that guy is annoying. I want to read, not be annoyed.

    Readers (at least, this reader) tend toward the introverted side, and for me reading is a solitary experience. So I like the idea of a book club, but not so much the actual thing.

    I liked the idea of Oprah’s book club. She picked a book. You and a bunch of other people out there in the great beyond read it. There were no meetings, no social interaction. It was just you and the book and the idea that a whole lot of other people were reading along, which was in some ways comforting. It was like being in a flash mob without having to leave the comfort of your home and without making a complete fool of yourself.

    There was always the off chance that some fortunate viewers would be invited to participate in the book club dinner/discussion with the author, but let’s face it, the reality of that happening to you was pretty slim.

    Oprah’s book club surpassed any other book club because she could actually facilitate a dinner with the author (except for the time she chose two books by Dickens…she’s Oprah, but there are limits to was she can do). What are the odds the guy in the commercial could get the actual author of a book to come discuss his or her book over dinner? Slim to none. I don’t care how much processed cheese book club guy promises to serve.

    Post script

    I have a bit of news: My book, Maxwell Parker, P.I. was honored as a Notable Book in the Middle-Grade Books category in the Third Annual Shelf Unbound Writing Competition for Best Independently Published Book, sponsored by Bowker.

    For more information about the competition, please check out the December/January 2015 issue of Shelf Unbound, a great resource for all those interested in indie publishing.

     

  • Lily’s Favorite Books

    Lily’s Favorite Books

    I’m suffering from a slight case of writer’s block, so I defer to my computer literate and otherwise literate kitty, Lily, who will treat you to a list of her favorite books…drum roll, please!

    1.  Alice‘s Adventures in Wonderland – by Lewis Carroll12.1

    I’ll bet you’re thinking I like this book because of the Cheshire Cat. Wrong! It’s Alice’s relationship with Dinah that sings to me. Everyone’s so over the moon about dog being man’s best friend. Well, this book proves that cat is a girl’s best friend.

    2.  The Cat in the Hat – by Dr. Seuss

    Let me begin by stating emphatically that chaos will not ensue if you open your door to a cat! That being said, this book is an enjoyable escape.

    3.  The Fire Cat – by Esther Averill

    That Pickles is a cool cat! I kind of had a huge crush on him when I was younger.

    4.  It’s Like This, Cat – by Emily Neville

    This was a favorite of mine for the few months I was a teenager. Man, I could really dig it!

    5.  Jenny and the Cat Club (Originally Titled The Cat Club or the Life and Times of Jenny Linsky) – by Esther Averill

    Jenny really appeals to me…she’s cute and shy, but plucky. Kind of like me!

    6.  Millions of Cats – by Wanda Gag

    This is a classic. I remember this being read to me when I was a kitten.

    7. Mouse Soup – by Arnold Lobel

    Delectable, tasteful tale of a succulent clever, little mouse.

    8.  Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats – by T.S. Eliot

    Mr. Eliot revealed some of our secrets, but I forgive him. He made our species a household name. Well, it already was, but you know what I mean…

    9.  The Rescuers – by Margery Sharp

    Yummy little story about Miss Bianca and Bernard. Although I do think the characterizations of cats are unnecessarily harsh.

    10.  Stuart Little – by E.B. White

    For some reason this book makes me think of snack-time!

    11.  The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup and a Spool of Thread – by Kate DiCamillo

    Delicious…I mean, a very engrossing book. Stimulating…intellectually, that is.

    12.  The Tale of Tom Kitten – by Beatrix Potter

    There are some benighted souls out there who believe Miss Potter only wrote books about rabbits and bunnies. While those books are tasty, this one’s a real treat.

    Bookworms2

    Lily’s note: My list of favorite books is shorter than Josie’s, but I am also much shorter than Josie. And for the record, I HATE the Clifford books, so no books of that kind are on my list!

    Josie’s note: Some of the above-listed titles may reflect a bias on the part of our feline blogger. From my perspective, there is nothing wrong with the Clifford books, except for the fact that they feature a DOG…and Lily isn‘t too fond of dogs (more on that later). Also, I am sorry to say that it appears that she tends to read the books about mice the way you or I might read a cookbook. I apologize for any statements that may offend dog or rodent lovers.

    Credit for picture of Dinah:Alice finds the Red Queen/Sir John Tenniel/Wood-engraving by Dalziel/Illustration for the eleventh chapter of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass (1865)/www.victorianweb.org

  • A few of my favorite…books (Childhood edition)

    A few of my favorite…books (Childhood edition)

    Here is a random yet somewhat related thought: I like making lists, especially to-do lists. Then I like crossing items off the list and keeping the lists as proof that I have actually accomplished something.

    The following is a list of my top twenty, all-time favorite books, specifically, a list of my favorite books that I read as a child/young adult. To quote Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail, “When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.”

    Note: There are way more than twenty books listed, because a lot of the favorites are series…I tend to think of a series as one book with several volumes, but that’s just me…

    Harry Connick Jr. has his Songs I Heard album…this is my Books I Read list.

    Feel free to weigh in when you’re finished reading. Are any of your favorites on the list? I know everyone has different tastes, but I’d like to know what you think (specifically about your favorite books/generally…oh, about everything).

    Btw, the list is in alphabetical order, just because it’s more diplomatic that way.

    1. Anastasia Krupnik by Lois Lowry
      • I loved how quirky and odd Anastasia was. I think I may have developed my love for lists after reading this book.
    2. The Anne of Green Gables books by Lucy Maud Montgomery
      • Anne and Gilbert are the stuff dreams are made of. I found some kindred spirits when I found these books.
    3. The Betsy-Tacy books by Maud Hart Lovelace
      • A trip back to yesteryear when life was “kinder and gentler.” There’s a Besty-Tacy book for all ages, and I’ve read them all…not in order, however, because my local library did not have a copy of Betsy Was a Junior. My favorites are Heaven to Betsy and Betsy’s Wedding.
    4. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
      • Teen angst at its finest.
    5. Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
      • Talking animals. A spider using vocabulary to save a pig’s life. What’s not to love?
    6. Cheaper by the Dozen & Belles on Their Toes by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
      • The first book was required reading in junior high; the second was a necessary must.
    7. Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh
      • Welcome to the wacky weird world of Harriet M. Welsch, everyone’s favorite under-age spy.
    8. Honestly, Katie John (series) by Mary Calhoun
      • I loved the Katie John books. My favorite is probably Katie John and Heathcliff. I discovered Wuthering Heights by reading this book, which is a Good Thing.
    9. The Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell
      • This book made me cry. It also made me wonder how I would have fared had I been left to fend for myself on an Island with no one but a dog for company.
    10. The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder
      • Once again, I was a sucker for a book about a family of girls. I loved following Laura’s adventures, from helping her father keep the family alive to meeting and falling in love with Almanzo. Being a pioneer wasn’t for the faint of heart. (As an adult, I realize that these books are problematic. But I included them because some of the thoughts expressed by seemingly good people provide insight into the feelings and attitudes that allowed people to commit injustices without a twinge of conscience. And perhaps therein lies their value.)
    11. A Little Princess by Frances Eliza Hodgson Burnett
      • This was probably my favorite book as a child. I liked it much more than The Secret Garden.
    12. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
      • I come from a family of four girls, so this book will always have a special place in my heart. I remember sobbing uncontrollably when Jo turned Laurie down and wishing that I could have a best friend like him.
      • P.S. Are you starting to detect a theme…how many of these books have “little” in the title?
    13. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien
      • The rats in this book are smarter than most people, and Mrs. Frisby is a brave little mouse who will stop at nothing to save her sick little boy. Who would have thought you could feel compassion for rats and mice? I honestly can’t pass a cage of rats in a pet store without thinking of them.
    14. My Friend Flicka (series) by Mary O’Hara
      • These books were a favorite of my mom’s when she was a child, and she passed the love on to me. I love the daydreaming Kenneth and watching him grow up and fall in love was to die for.
    15. The Nancy Drew books by Carolyn Keene
      • A girl detective? Need I say more? I loved the yellow hardback books. When I was a kid, they tried to update Nancy, they made her modern and paperback, but nothing’s as good as the original.
    16. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farms by Kate Douglas Wiggin
      • I read this before I read Anne of Green Gables and loved it. When I finally got around to Anne, at first, I thought Anne was a poor imitation. The books stand on their own, and I’m a fan of both.
    17. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry & Let the Circle be Unbroken by Mildred D. Taylor
      • These books took me to the rural, Jim Crow south. Not I place I’d like to live, but learning what life was like back then was informative.
    18. A Separate Peace by John Knowles
      • Another book that was required reading, with shades of Dead Poets Society.
    19. The Shoe books by Noel Streatfeild
      • I especially loved Skating Shoes, but I also like the fact that Movie Shoes picked up the Ballet Shoes story.
    20. We Interrupt This Semester for an Important Bulletin by Ellen Conford
      • I loved this book, and its precursor, Dear Lovey Hart, I Am Desperate. Even though these books took place in the distant past, I found them timeless.

    my childhood-favorites shelf:
    Josie Lynn's book recommendations, liked quotes, book clubs, book trivia, book lists (childhood-favorites shelf)

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