We had candy AND cake in the office today

WWMMD?

That is, What Would Miss Manners Do upon receipt of a blog tour "invitation" that opened "Pick a date in the month of November that you'd like to host us."

Hmm, let's see. "Gentle Reader: While Miss Manners was pleased to be in your thoughts she thinks you have your roles mixed up. It is the host who offers the invitation, not the guest. Miss Manners confesses she is quite agog with confusion over the prospect of a world in which a guest might phone one up and suggest dinner at one's domicile. She is further confounded by the notion that a host appreciates being offered a "menu of options" that the guest would find acceptable. Even if Miss Manners were running a restaurant--which she is not--she would settle upon the menu herself. She would also charge, which would rather change the position of the guest to that of a customer, no? But Miss Manners is as loathe to charge for her hospitality as she is likely to enjoy having you "stop by" on the "tour" you are proposing. Bon voyage!"

Reading aloud and alone

Twitter is atwitter with responses to Richard Peck's remark in Notes that

"over and over [kids are]telling me that the books I wrote for them to read are being read to them by their teachers. And hearing a story read doesn’t seem to expand their vocabularies. If a teacher is going to take limited classroom time in reading aloud (and even giving away the ending), the least she could do is hand out a list of vocabulary from the reading to be looked up and learned."

While I think Peck was complaining about classrooms where kids' only exposure to trade books was hearing them read aloud, some teachers have articulated thoughtful responses, among them Monica Edinger and Sarah, who blogs at The Reading Zone.

I'm just grateful that Peck is still doing so well in his dual roles, as a novelist both respected by critics and enjoyed by kids, and a provocative voice in the shaping of young people's literature and its importance for readers. Thirty-five years ago, in American Libraries, he wrote one of the most cogent responses I've seen to Cormier's newly published The Chocolate War. And, with the Grandma Dowdel books, I'm loving his renaissance of books for younger readers--remember Blossom Culp?

Also, I predict that this Twitter tempest will seem but teacup-sized once the p.c. police get wind of Mrs. Dowdel's charade, in A Season of Gifts, with the bones of the alleged Indian princess. Pass the popcorn.

The Twits

I'm currently experimenting with Twitter as @Hornbook. Have already been asked by one user if our site is "SFW," given our salacious name, I suppose. If you're on there, say hello.

In between twats I and the other Mag editors have been beavering away at the September special issue, theme song "Trouble." It's gonna be great--cover by Harry Bliss and articles by Betsy Hearne (Fifty years of children's book trouble), Pat Scales (What Makes a Good Banned Book), Susan Patron ("Why didn't I get in trouble that time I used uterus?"), Stephen Roxburgh (how much trouble could Roald Dahl be?), Marc Aronson (authors versus the internet), Leonard Marcus (interviewing Jean Feiwel, who brought you Goosebumps) and much more. Stay tuned!

I'm a little stunned myself.

From a press release I received this morning:

When Margaret Benedict, former educator and author, taught her social studies curriculum she required her students to read eight biographies a year. She was stunned when she found out that no biography of Joyce Clyde Hall existed. With determination to reveal the true entrepreneur that Hall was, Benedict worked closely with Hallmark Cards, Inc. to write An American Entrepreneur: Mr. Joyce Clyde Hall, Founder of Hallmark Cards, Inc.

I felt like The Wicked Child

at the Seder last night, but, being a good goyische guest, I kept my smarty-pants moyl shut when someone talked about the inspiring "true" story about the quilts that mapped the way to the North for enslaved African Americans before the Civil War. It's a nice idea but, "Escaping tonight? Oh, let me sew you a map!" Please.

Somebody really didn't think this through.

The name of Toni and Slade Morrison's forthcoming picture book from Wiseman/Simon & Schuster is Peeny-Butter Fudge. I can't be the only adult who has the sense of humor of a nine-year-old.

I can't quite put my finger on it.

PW has announced its (casually) bookseller-chosen Cuffie Awards, with Mem Fox and Helen Oxenbury's Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes as the picture book pick. It is a big favorite here, too, getting a starred review and a spot on our Fanfare 2009 list. Every parent I know loves it, and the text and design beg for story hour sharing.

But I have a nagging problem with it. The whole point of the book is that everyone has ten fingers and ten toes, and that while we celebrate each baby's uniqueness, isn't it great that they (and, by extension, we) have this particular array of anatomy in common? "And both of these babies, / as everyone knows, / had ten little fingers / and ten little toes."

Except, of course, when babies don't. Not everybody does--some are born with fewer (or lose them due to disease or accident), some come with an extra one or two, some people don't even have two hands, for God's sake. I know that these people are relatively rare, but there is something that bothers me when a book so determinedly inclusive manages to be so clueless about what it's actually saying. If this book had a mouth, it would be cramming all ten toes into it right now. You would never (knowingly) read this book to a child who didn't have ten fingers and toes, would you? And shouldn't that give us pause about sharing it with the ones who do?

I don't usually have much patience for debates about "sensitivity" and have no idea why this book bugs me as much as it does.

Support your local superstore!

A. Bitterman has some tips!

He does bring up a moral question that vexes me, though. If I want a copy of, say, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (which Betsy Hearne says I do), am I morally required to go out of my way to purchase it at an independent bookseller? There are two small independents in my neighborhood, but I can't go into either with the assurance they will have any given book I am seeking--one is mostly remainders (Jamaicaway Books and Gifts) and the other is too random (Rhythm and Muse). I can go to the Harvard Bookstore in Cambridge on my way home from work if I take an extra bus and train, but both Borders and Barnes & Noble are on my subway line. I always drop a hefty wad of cash at the Brookline Booksmith when we go over to Coolidge Corner for a movie, but that trip requires a car (and, thus, driver, thus Richard). As far as I can tell, Boston supports no full-service independents. What's an enthusiastic non-driving reader to do? On the one hand, shopping at an independent is, in the particulars, more fun, and I invariably buy more books than I had intended to. And in general, the existence of independents, with their handselling and appeal to big readers, allows more kinds of good books to flourish. But it has been my experience that immediate gratification wins out over virtue when shopping or reading (this is why I don't shop online). It says something great about reading when you just can't wait to get your mitts on a book--but it also makes it unlikely that you will wait until you can plan a day around its purchase.

I think what I miss most about Chicago is living a five-minute walk from Unabridged Bookstore. That place is heaven.

Oscar bait?

Librarian superpowers

This morning, at an unbearable point in Middlemarch--Dorothea is, I think, about to make a Very Big Mistake--I switched off my iPod and turned my attention to what my fellow Orange Line commuters were reading. It can be very tricky to not be caught staring while waiting for someone to give you a flash of cover. I was idly wondering why I habitually indulge in this particular brand of nosiness and then it came to me: when you know what book someone is more or less absorbed in, it's like you can read their mind. Bwah-ha-HAH!

Who knew Beezus had it in her?

Peter Sieruta shares a valuable report about a new Ramona book!

And how!

I was happy to see Debbie Reese confirm my impression of American Girl World as hostile territory. Why people continue to see this empire as good for children is beyond me. If you want to educate your children into the joys of brand loyalty and conspicuous consumption, at least Disney is more affordable. And the catalog? Yup, still porn.

Susan Patron has company.

from the copyright page of Sweet!: The Delicious Story of Candy (Tundra, 2007):

This book is dedicated to the sweet memory of our mother [name redacted because otherwise mine would come down from heaven and KILL me], who liked her black balls two at a time.