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I've always loved cartoons and comic strips. When I was a preschooler I discovered the comics page in the Los Angeles Times and rose early each morning to pull the paper off the lawn and turn to page 6, part B, where Nancy and Sluggo awaited me. (They were cartoon characters of very few words, and therefore available to me.) Later I went on to develop daily relationships with Mary Worth, Terry and the Pirates, Dick Tracy, Lil Abner, and eventually Peanuts, still later Doonesbury, and on I still go, this more than half-century later, when I scan all the cartoons in the New Yorker before settling down to the articles. Comics have always been a key point in my long journey to and through literacy.
When a friend brought home Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis after reading it in a Dartmouth diversity study group, I was delighted. By both writing and 
drawing her story, Satrapi gives us a behind-the-scenes look at the Iranian revolution and its impact on a progressive family caught in the middle of tumultuous events. She made use of Persian miniatures in her backgrounds, and I realized that for her to restrict her story to words only would have been to deprive the reader of her vision. Persepolis is now out in movie form, nominated for an Oscar in the animated division. She's since written and drawn several other books, each one giving me an inside look into the workings of Iranian culture, a look beyond the veil, as it were.
Joe Sacco is another writer who uses graphics to complete his story. He is a reporter who draws, and I found his Palestine to be filled with the anecdotal images of his travels there, his visits with the Palestinian people. I came away with new insights into the struggles in that war-torn land.
I have been really impressed with Lucinda's additions to the Graphica
collection, as it is now called. James Sturm, one of the founders of the Center for Cartoon Studies in White River Junction, lends his talents to a wide range of topics. His James Sturm's America: God, Gold, and Golems projects a range of historical experiences, from 19th Century backwoods evangelism, to betrayal in coal country, to early 20th Century Jewish baseball. His work has a definite edge; his characters seem haunted by the history in which they find themselves.
I just read a book by Adrian Tomine which explored coming of age issues for Asian youth and which left me feeling, well... old. That's fine, because today's graphic artists/cartoonists seem to consider any topic potential fair 
game for their talents. The 9/11 Report: a Graphic Adaptation isn't merely a cartoonist's "impression" of the events of that fateful day; it's a graphic distillation of the report itself, which was read carefully by co-authors Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colón. It's a thinking person's version made visible.
We're lucky to have librarians so open to all current forms of expression. Check out our graphica collection and see if there aren't works that appeal to the kid and adult that co-exist in you.
Everyone seems to remember Margaret Truman as the daughter of Harry Truman, often more specifically the soloist whose negative review caused her papa to threaten the reviewer with a broken nose and a black eye.
I remember her as a wonderful storyteller and my source for a hundred specific images of the Washington, DC she knew so well.
NPL's collection contains many of the DC based mysteries Margaret Truman wrote. I have read them all, first because I wanted to immerse myself in the atmosphere of that city, and then simply because they were good, good fun.
Her passing last week came as a surprise to me, since her latest novel, Murder on K Street, has just moved out of cataloging and onto the shelf. I was so pleased to see it; "eighty-three and still writing!" I remember glowing inwardly as I entered its ISBN into the system. I resolved to write her a note of admiration and praise.
As is too often the case, I am too late. I won't be able to pass on my compliments to the lady, but I can pass on my high regard to you. Should you like an insider tour of our nation's Capitol and some pretty good mysteries, do pick up a Margaret Truman mystery.
Her papa would have been proud.
From the beginning it wasn't a typical Saturday at the library. When I arrived to open up, the entry hall was filled with steam. The library sauna--our latest fundraiser?
If you've ever had a burst pipe there's an odor that you'd recognize anywhere. There was dampness on the stairs. I dashed down to the children's room and opened up. Sure enough, water was pouring out of the ceiling in the bathroom off the Children's Room. The ceiling tiles were soaked and breaking up. I walked across the room. Squish, squish. I felt the familiar puddles in the making and headed upstairs to find help.
There's a list of people to call over Lucinda's desk. I called the plumber and got an answering machine. To be safe, I called the one I'd had when my own pipes burst a couple of years ago. Then I called another one when I learned that there were several others ahead of me. I called Lucinda, who came right in. In the meantime I tried (in vain) to figure out how to turn off the water, which gushed indifferently away, giving us our own in-house waterfall.
I was wondering who else I should call when the officers of the Friends of the Library came through the door for their meeting. Suzanne Laaspere found the location of the leak. Anne Goodrich thought of other people to call and took to the phone. She must know everyone! Harley Cudney came in for books and ended up turning off the water. (Whew!) Michael Goodrich came by and gave us valuable advice. Brion McMullen came by to offer his counsel, as did NPL Board member Dave Emerson. All this on a Saturday! Isabella Lubin professionally ran the circulation desk upstairs so that we could continue to serve the public while we sorted out what needed to be done.
Then the Friends showed what true friends they are. Anne, Soong Elliott, Cindy Faughnan, and Ben Childs and his girlfriend Sarah began to help us move books from the shelves that needed to come down. People were cheery and upbeat and so kindly available. It's said that many hands make for light work, and it was certainly true.
I had come to work dressed for Casual Saturday; I was wearing my blue jeans and Google tee shirt. On the back of the shirt is "I feel lucky." Isabella teased me. "You feel lucky?"
In fact, I did and I do. My luck began when she, Anne and the other Friends arrived. It stayed with us all day.
Thanks to all of Saturday's angels. You made us feel fortunate, right in the middle of a mess!
It's been at the Circulation Desk since last summer: a copy of Roald Dahl's Matilda-- one that isn't ours.
It isn't unusual for patrons to return a book to us that belongs at the Howe; many patrons have cards at both libraries. We also share patrons with the Marion Cross School library, and we have a place on the shelf for their strays as well. If we have someone headed in those directions, we drop them off ourselves. We otherwise call over and have the librarians check in with the appropriate patrons. Pretty simple.
But this one isn't simple, though I find myself moved to act. This copy of Matilda comes from a very special library, Grandma's Library. In an elegant hand, a message on the flyleaf says, "This book belongs in Grandma's Library. Please bring it back! Thank you!"
It's easy to see how one of Grandma's copies could end up at NPL. Clearly, Grandma is a pro: the dust cover is protected by a the clear protective stuff that other libraries use. There's even a card in the back with due dates carefully stamped, and a little pocket with author and title. Best of all, she's chosen a child-friendly book filled with humor and delight.
Grandma forgot just one crucial thing: her name!
Her address and phone would be dandy, too. If there's one thing a librarian appreciates, it's another librarian, particularly one who shares her private collection as Grandma has been willing to do. We want this crucial volume returned to our respected colleague.
So I appeal to you, my readers (all 3 of you!): should you encounter this post and know the Grandma-Librarian of whom I write, please contact her or me. We are eager for Matilda and Grandma to experience the joyous reunion that we hope awaits them.
With the holidays upon us, there's something inevitable about Charles Dickens, particularly if you have television. A Christmas Carol will grace the channels at least a dozen times, I suspect, and the trials of the Cratchetts and the second chance tossed to Ebeneezer Scrooge will remind us not to postpone joy, that our capacity to love and give are our true legacies. The blessed Dickens Dictum, in other words, is a part of our culture's holiday experience.
Dickens is such a giant presence in our entertainment industry that
it's easy to forget what a master writer he was. Every child actor from Freddie Bartholomew on has taken a crack at cuting up Dickens' title characters. Musicals abound, all "based on Dickens' timeless tale" as the display ads always put it. It's easy to lose the core creations in all the spin-offs.
Happily, the books on tape and CD in NPL's collection can serve as a reminder of his fundamental genius, along with the print versions of his many masterpieces. I have been working my way through our Dickens audiobooks, starting with A Tale of Two Cities and proceeding on to David Copperfield. At the moment I am listening to Great Expectations, which I hadn't experienced since the ninth grade. My God! I find myself thinking, These works were wasted on my callow, youthful self! It's wonderful to sit before a roaring fire and listen to the words--the characters, the 
dialogues, the descriptions-- that so many have enjoyed before me. I find that I can't quite get enough.
I tend to become a little fanatical in my enthusiasms. Since I have fallen in love with red kuri squash, I find myself buying it wherever I can find it, knowing that its availability will be gone too soon. Similarly, I've been scanning NPL's catalog just to see how long I can stay on this Dickens-go-round. Happily, I see that we also have recorded versions of Bleak House, the Pickwick Papers, and Oliver Twist, as well as A Christmas Carol.On the print side of things we have two volumes of Dickens' Christmas
Stories, as well as all the titles mentioned above, as well as Nicolas Nickleby.
It's that vision of justice thwarted, the boundless sympathy for innocents, the push for reconciliation, the mastery of language, those unforgettable characters and their well-tailored names that have me as filled with wonder. With our positively Dickensian weather forecasts, perhaps you'll find stories for drawing near the fire as well.
I'm not anti-intellectual, but I never was much interested in a magazine in NPL's collection called The American Scholar.
It turns out that it's only because I never took a good look. When Nancy Osgood was in recently and mentioned the magazine, I felt my mind opening. Anything Nancy values is worth at least a try. The American Scholar, a publication of Phi Beta Kappa, turns out to be something akin to the New Yorker, only without as many cartoons.
In its pages lie superb fiction and non-fiction, by the likes of Alice Munro, John Barth, Anne Beatty, Louis Begley, and Ethan Fishman. I read wonderful poems by Louise, Gluck, Robert Pinsky, David Sofield, and John 
Hollander. There are lively and fascinating articles on cell biology and religion, whether or not Alger Hiss was the spy the government said he was, the life and legacy of Ralph Ellison, and one I particularly enjoyed, "Church and State: How to Tell the Difference," which examines our forefathers' take on the First Amendment and includes a wonderful section on Roger Williams.
I suppose the title put me off initially. As it turns out, American Scholar simply appeals to the part of me that believes in lifelong learning. I'll be reading this magazine regularly from now on. The
If the authors above click with you, pick up a copy next time you're at NPL.
It's a gem.
Tuttifoodie wants YOU!
This lively and informative organic food blog is looking for new subscribers, so intensely, it seems, that it's going to pay Norwich Public Library $2 for every subscriber it refers.
This blog is not only generous with public libraries; it's creative, witty, and filled with news of the off-the-beaten path food producers who are transforming the way we eat.
My most recent visit took me to profiles on organic farms, 
links on groups who keep track of seafood safety, a good article on cage free eggs, a recipe for basil-cucumber infused tequila, an article on Vermont's Woodstock Water Buffalo Company, and a hot source for Taiwanese tea lollipops! The writing is as witty as it is informative, and the topics are truly a cut above what we usually read about the food scene.
Visit their site. Then if you'd like to subscribe (it's free), you can specify a $2 donation to NPL. To specify the donation, enter NPL in the space for Promo Code.
Easy! What's not to like about that?
I've always loved cartoons and comic strips. When I was a preschooler I discovered the comics page in the Los Angeles Times and rose early each morning to pull the paper off the lawn and turn to page 6, part B, where Nancy and Sluggo awaited me. (They were cartoon characters of very few words, and therefore available to me.) Later I went on to develop daily relationships with Mary Worth, Terry and the Pirates, Dick Tracy, Lil Abner, and eventually Peanuts, still later Doonesbury, and on I still go, this more than half-century later, when I scan all the cartoons in the New Yorker before settling down to the articles. Comics have always been a key point in my long journey to and through literacy.
drawing her story, Satrapi gives us a behind-the-scenes look at the Iranian revolution and its impact on a progressive family caught in the middle of tumultuous events. She made use of Persian miniatures in her backgrounds, and I realized that for her to restrict her story to words only would have been to deprive the reader of her vision. Persepolis is now out in movie form, nominated for an Oscar in the animated division. She's since written and drawn several other books, each one giving me an inside look into the workings of Iranian culture, a look beyond the veil, as it were.
Joe Sacco is another writer who uses graphics to complete his story. He is a reporter who draws, and I found his Palestine to be filled with the anecdotal images of his travels there, his visits with the Palestinian people. I came away with new insights into the struggles in that war-torn land.
collection, as it is now called. James Sturm, one of the founders of the Center for Cartoon Studies in White River Junction, lends his talents to a wide range of topics. His James Sturm's America: God, Gold, and Golems projects a range of historical experiences, from 19th Century backwoods evangelism, to betrayal in coal country, to early 20th Century Jewish baseball. His work has a definite edge; his characters seem haunted by the history in which they find themselves.
game for their talents. The 9/11 Report: a Graphic Adaptation isn't merely a cartoonist's "impression" of the events of that fateful day; it's a graphic distillation of the report itself, which was read carefully by co-authors Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colón. It's a thinking person's version made visible.
