Picturing the World: Picture books for grown ups and the toddlers who love them

We have a ritual on Tuesday mornings: wake up early, exercise, get big kids up and ready for school, go to Mass with the high schoolers, who have a late start day, then have breakfast and coffee, start the laundry, finish the dishes, and then head to the library at 10 am for storytime. The next two hours are dedicated to books. We might go to the park before lunch, if we finishing picking out our books for the week, but often we lounge around the library after storytime, looking at books, picking a movie for the weekend, and chatting with neighbors. 

We have read a lot of good picture books the last couple of years. I sometimes fear we are neglecting our own poor picture books, but we have a few favorites that come off the shelves frequently at bedtime. 

I wish I were better at keeping track of the picture books we love. Elephant and Piggie books come home with us often, and sometimes we pick up the knock-offs featuring a pig and a rabbit. I like to pick out books that have pretty pictures or a good story, or showed up on a recommended reading list, or that fit our theme of the week for co-op (this week is t for transportation). LK likes to pick out books with pink princesses (although she loves Richard Scarry, too). I don't know why kids keep coming back to books that are painful for parents to read - Pinkalicious and Dora books being at the top of my list. Add to that any television/franchise tie-in book.  Froggy, Fancy Nancy, and Berenstain Bears books are bearable in small doses. I have been known to hide Pinkalicious and Disney tie-in books, so that she can't find them. Sorry, librarians. 

Lately, I've had a few that I just loved looking at. They were bearable to LK, but I think a five or six year-old would have really enjoyed Leo and Diane Dillon's To Every Thing There is a Season. It has beautiful illustrations of the verse from Ecclesiastes 3, each one rendered in a different style of art from around the globe and through history. This would be a great text for a home schooling family because it incorporates scripture, art, history, geography, science, and sociology. I bet you could pull out some other topics from it, as well. A key in the back of the book provides simple explanations of the style and subject, but you could spend hours studying the pictures. I took a few photos to share and to remind myself to buy it or check it out again in the future. 

Farming in ancient Japan.

Greek civilization building and destroying.

Medieval funeral and wedding celebrations

A walkabout with an Aborigine family

Faith Ringgold's We Came to America is a prose poem, but the rhythm is off just enough to make it a little less enjoyable to read with a youngster than it would be if it had a more regular rhythm, at least in my opinion. Nevertheless, I love the way this book takes on the timely topic of immigrants in America, but does so without preaching. Instead, it emphasizes the migration of families in times of strife and struggle. It also illustrates the culture and traditions, like music and dance and religion, that immigrants bring with them that enrich their new home.

Martha Hickman's Then I Think of God is more sentimental. Each spread shows a child presented with a mystery, a challenge, or a wonder that leads him to ponder the everyday miracles gifted to us by God. The text and illustrations combine to convey a simple but beautiful way to look for God's fingerprints on our lives. I teared up reading the page about the birth of the new baby sister.

I've always appreciated Jean Fritz's short histories of famous people from history, but I had never stumbled across her collaboration with Trina Schart Hyman, who illustrated other favorites like A Child's Calendar and St. George and the Dragon, on The Man Who Loved Books. Maybe I skipped over some recommendation of this book, but it's another one I wish I had had when I was home schooling, and I'm tempted to buy it just for my own enjoyment. This is Fritz's 1981 biography of St. Columba, the Irish monk who spread Christianity and literacy around Ireland and beyond. The story focuses on his love of books rather than his love of God, but his faith can be seen in his love of the Word and love of his Fatherland. His love for books caused him to illicitly copy a friend's new manuscript, which led to a war, and self-imposed exile. His faithfulness to his vow never to set eyes on his beloved Ireland again led him to blindfold himself years later when he was urged to return to settle a dispute. That kind of heroic virtue is illustrated here in an inspiring rather than insipid way, making the great saint of Ireland both very human and very holy.

And a bonus shot: The Winter issue of Image magazine featured photos of Flannery O'Connor's school journal. "I attribute everything I have done to prayer."

A Retreat for the Mind: Plugging the conference on The Future of the Catholic Literary Imagination

Two days before the world's paparazzi arrived in LA for the Academy Awards, USC's Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies hosted a conference on The Future of the Catholic Literary Imagination.  More excited about the line-up of speakers for this event than about any of the celebrities in all the movies I haven't seen, I made the pilgrimage to LA and back two days in a row for a celebration of all that is good in the world of letters.

I still feel a little giddy, as if I'd been to a big, booming rock concert, only this was a concert for the mind. I took copious notes, but as I look back on my scratchings, I see that translating them into something that would make sense for my small readership here will take more time than I have at the present. Instead, a summary:

As neither a real academic nor a real writer nor a member of the press or publishing world, I fell into the category of "members of the student body and public invited."  During the morning registration coffee hour, I felt intimidated about being in this crowd and maintained my anonymity by browsing publisher's tables of books for sale and mingling among the high school students, pretending to be a chaperone, but as the conference went on, I become more comfortable with my role as "Admiring public" or "Fan" or even, slightly, "Patron." I bought a few books and noted a long list other titles I would like to own after I make my way through a stack of to-be-reads. Someone has to take in all the words and ideas that these authors are sharing. I am happy to take on the role of consumer.

The conference began with workshops for high school students and a panel on Latino/a writers led by some professors at Notre Dame. I opted to go to the workshop on Flannery O'Connor because I was teaching "Revelation" in my class on Monday night. I had planned to go to a poetry workshop led by Mark Bauerlein of Emory, but I'm glad I veered off at the last minute to hear Angela Alaimo O'Donnell of Fordham talk on F. O'C. O'Connor's popularity has quadrupled in the 20 years since I graduated from college, so I was concerned O'Donnell might rehash some familiar themes, but I wanted to make notes on how to teach, also.  O'Donnell brought Flannery to life with her biographical sketch and allusions to her stories.  (I am also happy to report that despite my misgivings about assigning a story so riddled with the "n word" to my class, they all seemed to enjoy it. They could assign the language to "her time" and the hypocrisy of Ruby Turpin without being offended. And we had a wonderful discussion on self-reflection and hypocrisy in that story and Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown." Best class yet.)

Perhaps my biggest criticism of the conference is that the offerings were so difficult to choose between. I frequently couldn't decide which panel to attend. Sometimes I made my choice by studying the schedule to see if any luminaries were speaking later in the conference, so that I could hear them later; but a few times, I went into one panel for the first half and then slipped away to go listen to the second half of another panel.  In this manner I listened briefly to a panel on the role of Catholic editors and then went to "Spirituality and Literature" which was a wonderful exchange between Paul Mariani, Al Gelpi, and Kaya Oakes, a faculty member at UC Berkeley and a convert. I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't recognize Paul Mariani's name. So since I wasn't starstuck, I was able to go up to him later and have a truly delightful conversation. He was convivial and fascinating and engaging, and now I am hunting out his poetry and literary biographies.  Here is a sample.

I did, in truly awkward form, also say a couple words to the luminaries I had come to hear.  Dana Gioia was one of the organizers, and he was truly amazing in his ability to be everywhere and to have time to talk to everyone. He asked me, while walking up to one of the talks, about my experience, who I was and where I was from. I gave him the brief answer and then the pandering, "I love your work.  I've been using your anthology to teach out of for the past six years..."

I held a door open for Ron Hansen, who had a knee brace and crutches. He asked me for directions to the Radisson, and I pulled out my phone to show him the map, not knowing it was only a couple blocks away. After he thanked me, I threw in the "I love your books!"  I wish I had thought to ask a question about any new work. I truly loved A Stay Against Confusion and Mariette in Ecstasy, and really liked Atticus and Robert Ford the Coward Who Shot Jesse James and Exiles, but I did not care for Hitler's Niece, nor did I attempt to read his newest book, which sounded like too much eros for my taste.

I did not speak to Tobias Wolff, but I loved his reading and his comments on living a life of conviction in a world in which the actions of faithful people like the North American Martyrs (and California's Junipero Serra) are a source of controversy because their methods often brought pain and death to the people whom they wished to save.  Sadly I missed Julia Alvarez's reading, the evening before I arrived, and Alice McDermott cancelled because her mother died.  But Julia Alvarez attended many of the programs with her husband. She was a tiny person with a voice like a bird. I eavesdropped to her chatter in the ladies' room, happy to be stuck waiting in line.

Even more of a treat was talking to the lesser stars.  I've been a fan of Image for some time and talked briefly to Gregory Wolfe about the Glen Workshops and MFA program. One of students from the program, Brian Volck, added his praise for the program.  Then Dr. Volck, a Cincinnati pediatrician, read later in the day because he was one of six writers chosen to be a Mullin fellow for the Institute. I was blown away by his reading - great voice and a truly beautiful story about vocation, really - being a doctor, a father, a writer.

I had lunch the second day with Dana Gioia's son and nephew, both students at Stanford volunteering at the conference. We met up at the same Armenian taco food truck. Then I talked a bit to a professor from Loyola in Chicago, Fr. Mark Bosco, (whom now I know to be a Graham Greene specialist because I googled him, too) I asked him for advice about teaching and let him teach me. And we shared our love for Chicago. I shared a printout of some poems at one of the talks with a man who happened to be one of the donors for the event, and he introduced me to the president of the Institute, Fr. James Heft, who has a long list of publications I'd like to look into.  Also circulating among the crowd were the editor of Dappled Things, Meredith McCann; a fellow graduate from UD, Joseph O'Brien and friend Matthew Lickona, both professional writers themselves and entertaining bloggers at Korrectiv; a couple ND alumni writers, neither whom I knew when I was there, but both gave good readings: David Griffiths and Randy Boyagoda, who has written a new biography of Fr. John Neuhaus. I listened briefly to Heather King and two other Catholic Californians, Carol Zapata-Whelan and D. J. Waldie, talk about their work and writing in California.  And the poetry reading by James Matthew Wilson, teacher at Villanova and writer at Front Porch Republic, also woke my desire to read more of his work.

Other highlights: The talk by California state historian Kevin Starr (the link is a great profile from the LA Times) was immensely entertaining. He gave a romping, abbreviated history of Catholic intellect and culture from the late 1800s to the 1950s Catholic Revival in literature in England and America. He crushed a questioner who asked about big c Catholics and little c catholics by asserting his love for the big Cs. But he was dour about a future Renaissance in popular culture because of increasing secularism and intolerance for religion. What he predicts is perhaps a flourishing subculture of Catholic culture - already in place on the internet.  And finally, replacing Alice McDermott in a panel was Robert Bausch, another author with whom I am unfamiliar but who has a long list of published novels. I'll be looking for one at the library.  He had a mesmerizing Georgian drawl and talked with Virginia Review editor, Jon Peede, with an equally entrancing horse country accent.  Paul Contino and Mark Eaton of Pepperdine's Christianity and literature, another journal I want to read more of, were also on this panel, but mostly listened to Mr. Bausch tell stories.

All in all, a wonderful two days. I'm grateful to my husband for managing the home front, so that I could go on this Lenten retreat of sorts.

Perhaps this post reads like name dropping. I've been debating about how to write about this event - write about what was said or who was saying it?  I hope to get around to writing up a synthesis of ideas, but throwing out this list of speakers and attendees is easier, and worthwhile for another reason. Instead of name dropping, I prefer to think of this as promotion. Look up these writers and read them. There won't be a renewal of faith in the arts without readers and critics getting the word out about these artists.  Other works I want to look for: St. Peter's B-List, an anthology of poetry about saints, both canonical and not. I've only read short stories by Alvarez and Tobias Wolff and need to make time for their novels and memoirs. Brian Doyle, editor of Portland magazine, and John L;Heureux got recommendations.  And there were stacks of books on the publishers' tables, ranging from Loyola Press, Wiseblood Books, Tuscany Press, and Paraclete Press, I'd like to read.  Life is too short for all the good books!