The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant

If you treat every question like you've never heard it before, your students feel like you respect them and everyone learns a lot more. Including the teacher. p.120

When a shy person smiles, it's like the sun coming out. p. 149

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

This is the first book I have read written in epistolary form. I thoroughly enjoyed it and was fascinated how the authors brought to light the nuances of each character through the letters they wrote.

I find these passages from the book so true:

Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true. p. 10

That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third. It's geometrically progressive - all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment. p.12

The Sisters: The Saga of the Mitford Family by Mary S. Lovell

This was a fascinating read. Mary S. Lovell succeeds in making history very readable. It is informative and was a pleasure to read. Lovell's style of writing makes me want to read more of her biographies. I felt like the following quote sums up much of what comes through in this account of one family.

"Children sometimes appear to believe that parents have an inbuilt guide to perfect parenting and that an inability to deliver what they want or need is a deliberate act of neglect. But parenting is a hit-and-miss affair, depending on many ingredients: the age of the parents, the relationship between them, the behavior of their own parents towards them and their reaction to it, and also the demeanour of the child. Parents, too, apparently often have an inbuilt confidence that their children, given the same upbringing they themselves received, will grow up with the same values and beliefs. But there is no magic formula to good parenting and parents get only one crack at it with each child. They cannot rehearse and go back, learning from past mistakes if they get it wrong. Invariably, too, children grow up with a ragbag of selective memories." p. 61

State of Wonder by Ann Patchett

I love the way Patchett writes. Her novels always have layers that peel away as the story progresses. She is not afraid to leave some unanswered questions at the end that make you think and draw your own conclusions. And as you read, you are making discoveries along with the characters.
A few passages that made me think:

... and Marina would have to work very hard not to roll her eyes because her mother had explained that eye-rolling was the height of rudeness and was never an appropriate response, even to very stupid questions. p. 35

     "I never say it to them," she said, looking towards the slightly open pantry door in the direction of her boys and their television, "that I'm not sure he's dead. I know they need to have one answer, even if it's the worst answer you could think of. Hope is a horrible thing, you know. I don't know who decided to package hope as a virtue because it's not. It's a plague. Hope is like walking around with a fishhook in your mouth and somebody just keeps pulling it and pulling it. Everybody thinks I'm a train wreck because Anders is dead but it's really so much worse than that. I'm still hoping that this Dr. Swenson, for some reason I couldn't possibly put together, has lied about everything, that she's keeping him, or she's lost him somewhere."  p. 43

.... But Marina had been a very good student and a very good doctor and a very good employee and lover and friend and when someone asked her to do something she operated on the principle they had asked because it was important. She succeeded in life because she had so rarely declined any request made of her, how would the Amazon be different? p. 47

.... - she found herself siding with Alan because there was much in his single-minded devotion to a mentor that sounded a familiar note. In this life we love who we love. There were some stories in which facts were very nearly irrelevant. p. 233

     There was no one clear point of loss. It happened over and over again in a thousand small ways and the only truth there was to learn was that there was no getting used to it. Karen Eckman had wanted Marina to go to Brazil to find out what had happened to her husband, but now that she was here she understood what Dr. Swenson had told her in the restaurant that first night after the opera: it could have been anything, any fever, any bite. It never was remarkable that Anders had died; the remarkable thing was that the rest of them were managing to live in a place for which they were so fundamentally unsuited. Karen had wanted to believe that knowing what Anders had died of and where he was buried would make a difference, but it wouldn't and it didn't. p.269

Yes Please by Amy Poehler

I believe great people do things before they are ready. Loc 128

Shame.....also keeps us from true happiness. An apology is a glorious release. Loc 962

Watching great people do what you love is a good way to start learning how to do it yourself.
Loc 1158

It's easier to be brave when you're not alone.
We were young and foolish and didn't know what we were up against. Loc 1259

I am a moon junkie. Every time I look at the moon, I feel less alone and less afraid. I tell my boys that moonlight is a magic blanket and the stars above us are campfires set by friendly aliens. I track lunar cycles....and take my kids outside at night when a moon is new or full or blue. We call this "moon hunting" and we bring flashlights and moon candy along. Loc 3073

When your children arrive, the best you can hope for is that they break open everything about you..... Your heart becomes a room with-open windows. You laugh hard every day. You think about the future... And gradually, through this heart-heavy openness and these fresh eyes, you start to see the world a little more. Maybe you start to care a teeny tiny bit more about what happens to everyone in it. Loc 3122

A person's tragedy does not make up their entire life. A story carves deep grooves into our brains each time we tell it. But we aren't one story. We can change our stories. We can write our own. Loc 3237

The Great Gift of Reading Aloud by Meghan Cox Gurdon

Another Wall Street Journal article from the Saturday/Sunday, July 11-12, 2015 edition. This one really hit home from many years of reading aloud to my boys. My picks from the article:

I had, incredibly,  just been permitted to leave a Tokyo hospital with our first born, a daughter. .....
     .....I carried the infant to the little room we had prepared for her, sat down in the rocking chair that I had painted before her arrival, and began to read aloud from a book of fairy tales.
     "Long ago there lived a widower who had one daughter," I informed the pudding in my arms.

     My shining role model Lisa [Wolfinger], the vanishing hostess - and as it happens, a film producer and thus no reflexive enemy of the screen - notes: "Creating that world in your head is a muscle that needs to be exercised. Kids now are being spoon-fed the visual storytelling, so there's no reason for them to close their eyes and imagine a world, imagine what these people would look like, the clothes and smells and landscape."

     Wait, I hear an irritated chorus say, what's so bad about the iPad? What about all those zippy interactive storybooks that tiny kids can "read" to themselves? And what about audio books - are they bad too? IPads and audio books have their virtues, but they don't have warm arms, they can't share a joke, and they haven't any knowledge of, or interest in, a particular child. In the case of recorded stories, they can't answer questions or observe a child's puzzlement and know to pause and explain what, say, a "charabanc" is.

How I Found My Future in a Marrakesh Bazaar by Patricia Storace

I don't usually write a post about a newspaper article, but I read this article in the Wall Street Journal and it struck me. Now I want to read some more that Storace has written. Here is what struck me in this article:

     I saw it immediately, propped up against a dressing table - an intricately carved door whose rich, nocturnally dark wood was studded with stars that I would soon learn were formed of brass, camel bone and silver, and which seemed to pulse and shimmer as my eyes moved over them. ...... No matter how long I stared at it, I found more to see.

     "Why don't you take the door?" he asked. It seemed to be a genuine question, gently posed, not the opening of a subtly aggressive sales pitch. It had never occurred to me that I could buy it. I lived in an already crowded studio apartment and, though I often dreamed of doing so, had no prospect of moving. "I'm afraid I have no place for it," I said, apologetic that I had kept him in the shop for so long. "I don't have a house."
     "Don't be afraid," he told me. "A door is the beginning of a house."