I don't know what my question was but I like John Rocco's answer

Back from ALA (and vacation) and it’s already becoming a blur. In Anaheim, I spent the weekend at the booth five-questioning twelve award winners and honor book recipients, each interview fine but in toto too many; we videotaped them this year thanks to the mad skills of Guy Gonzalez and Mike Berse and will be uploading them in the coming weeks for your viewing pleasure. I had just two social events: a dinner hosted by FSG for Jack Gantos in honor of his Scott O’Dell Award, and the Newbery-Caldecott banquet as Little, Brown’s guest. I got really nervous at the beginning of Jack’s Newbery speech, remembering the printed version awaiting Horn Book readers and thinking, this is NOT what we discussed. But in fact it was, Jack’s expert delivery making the speech seem new and unrehearsed. (Elissa has posted a neat directory of all our ALA coverage.)

On Monday, Richard picked me up for the drive to West Hollywood and a visit with our lovely Ethan and Rebecca in their Melrose Place-like apartment complex . . .

Where was Heather?

then up the coast to see Andy Davis . . .

O Captain! My Captain! Richard steering Andy's boat

then up again (via the PCH, so beautiful) to see old Pitzer friends and our lovely Dorian and Julie and Miles and Chloe, the adorable newest member of the Mill Valley branch of the family.

Chilling with Chillow

I did not get a lot of reading done–Gillian Flynn’s Dark Places, Simon Winchester’s Outposts, and (telling myself I needed to test-drive an illustrated book on my new Kindle but really just curious to re-visit my eight-year-old’s taste), the first volume in The Happy Hollisters series. My new Kindle (touch-screen) is way ahead of the first iteration but I still don’t like the lack of enough contrast on the e-ink screen. The Hollisters reminded me of Sally and Bobby Draper bouncing around in the back of drunk Betty’s station wagon, regularly facing near-drownings, fires, and “rough-looking” men with can-do spirit and an almost complete lack of parental supervision. I don’t think those books could be published today (unless the Hollisters were each five years older and living in an apocalyptic Shoreham beset by fallen angels).

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The work part of the week went fine. I spoke about Mommy/Daddy-loves-you-best books at Pomona to an audience of enthusiastic students, profs, booksellers and writers (Susan Patron, Candace Ryan, and Megan Whalen Turner graciously attended.) After lunch (our thirty-year-old favorite, patty melts at Walters, which has gotten way fancier) the next day with my old Pitzer bestie Ruth, we went over to the campus for a rather more intime (read: sparsely attended) but lively discussion of censorship with Susan and then went for a walk around the campus, which has doubled in size since the 70s. The students were very polite to us Olds, and even praised the cafeteria food. (The all-you-can-eat ice cream, rumored to be a string attached to a bequest, was gone, but I noted that two vegan specialities were offered on each menu.) Right: Susan Patron and me.

And son Dorian and his wife were very gracious to drive out to SFO for our stopover on the way home, bringing number-one-grandson Miles along for our adoration. When did he turn from a baby into a little boy? (He’s not even a year yet, so it must be the haircut.)

And now I’m back and pondering the in-box drama that is the ALSC discussion of lowering its age level of service from fourteen to thirteen. It’s amazing what can draw fire from the dragon ladies’ throats!

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The first is on Thursday, February 18th, where I’ll be at Pomona College in Claremont, speaking on “Children’s Literature and Adults: Where do we get off?” It’s at 4:15 PM, Ena Thompson Room, Crookshank Hall. I hear there will be snacks.

On Friday the 19th, I’ll be speaking at my alma mater Pitzer College, also in Claremont, with fellow alum Susan Patron on “What Makes a Good Banned Book?: How Children’s Literature Gets Into Trouble.” That will be from 2:00 PM – 3:00 PM, reception to follow, Broad Performance Space. Those with testicular fortitude are welcome to join us.

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