With the scents and sounds if not the temperatures of spring finally arriving in Leelanau County, I have begun to feel a certain itch. No, it is not the effects of allergies, at least not in the traditional medical sense. Instead, despite plenty of skiing and hockey, it is a whole body reaction to long winter months spent all too frequently indoors.
First my feet began to feel restless as the desire to walk amongst trees, ferns, and foliage returned to my legs. Then my hands started to tremble as the longing to stick my fingers in the dirt crept back into my arms and hands. And finally, my brain commenced to scamper away to any and every wild place I could imagine as the hankering for adventure finally broke free of months of hibernation. Alas, as these feelings overtook my body not but a few weeks ago, the white of snow still covered nearly every crack and crevice in sight. Thus, as so frequently happens, I turned toward the shelves of the library to unearth just the right book to allay my current cravings.
Like my current predicament, in 1997, Michael Ausema felt a certain tickle. Unlike many of his peers, he could not content himself with a good job in a place he knew and loved. Therefore, when the opportunity arose to spend a summer on Isle Royale as a volunteer park ranger, he leapt at the chance. That summer spent on Michigan's jewel, became a catalyst sending him on a lifelong journey in search of true wildness. To accomplish this, Michael went on to become a paid park ranger working not just on Isle Royale, but also in the Everglades, and Glacier Bay National Parks. His book, "A Search for a Sense of Wildness" chronicles his many adventures in these remote places, the relationships he develops while doing so, and his attempt to commune with God through his interactions with these spectacular and wild locales.
At its heart, "A Search for a Sense of Wildness" reads like the incredibly optimistic journal of a true adventurer. It is chock full of amazing wildlife encounters, breathtakingly portrayed natural beauty, humorous and heartwarming people, awe inspiring exploits, and most importantly, open wonder. Ausema is truly a believer in the divine beauty of our world and it is impossible to put this book down without understanding why. And yet as the book draws on, Ausema's astonishment, does occasionally feel overly glass half full as almost every experience seems to instill complete and "utter awe" and to be seemingly mind blowing. This occasionally over the top admiration of the natural world though, can hardly be called a fault and may instead be more of a symptom of the narrative style that aims toward a retelling of amazing experiences rather than a tale with a binding narrative arc.
Despite this lack of rising action, climax, conclusion and so forth, Ausema's tale superbly achieves its goals of both scratching an itch for adventure while creating within readers the desire for beauty, the divine, and most importantly, their intersection in true wildness.
As the whirlwind of my first year on the job blew by along with last winter's winds, I was caught by surprise by a February press release from the State Department of Education and the Library of Michigan containing a list of "Michigan Notable Books." Not realizing that such a program even existed, I was thrilled to peruse the list of 20 excellent and diverse books celebrating Michigan people, places, and events.
Even more exciting than making my way through these distinguished works though, was the chance for the library, through state sponsorship, to host the one of the authors. Last year, the library was lucky enough to present Laurie Kay Sommers, the author of "Fishtown" an account of Leland's historic fishery.
Now, one year later, instead of surprise, February brought anticipation. Yet, knowing full well that lighting rarely strikes the same spot twice, I had no expectation that we would again be chosen to host an author. Thus, I was absolutely floored when our lovely Suttons Bay Bingham Library was chosen again.
In just two short months, on May 14th, Don Lystra, the author of "Something That Feels Like Truth" will visit our Library to chat about his recent award winning collection of short stories and I could not be more delighted.
Indeed, Lystra and his work are the perfect fit for our northern peninsula as his assemblage of stories, like Leelanau itself, displays life in both its sheer beauty and utter hardship.
Take the tale "Reckless" in which a young boy and his father, who has made his way up through the ranks at GM, travel north from Detroit to hunt with a former factory floor coworker. Yet memories and the hardscrabble life of the former coworker force our protagonist to reflect on the course his life, and by proxy, any life can take. Another tale, "Marseille," follows a Saginaw factory worker that has lost his job leading him to become both discombobulated and desirous of a dramatic change but ultimately leaves him clinging to that which matters most.
Like "Marseille" and "Reckless" all of Lystra's tales seek, in his own words, "fundamental truth" and they do so by studying characters and settings in all of their fine detail before painting them before us with deft sympathy. This ability to truthfully yet gracefully touch upon the soul of what it means to be human makes both "Something That Feels Like Truth" an unforgettable work and Lystra's upcoming visit not to be missed.
For two years in a row now, the weekend celebrating our first President's birthday has marked a different sort of celebration here in Suttons Bay; Yetifest. Superficially celebrating that huge, white haired, mythical beast said to live in Nepal, Tibet, and now Suttons Bay, Yetifest in truth has provided a great opportunity for the community to get together outside and shake off the malaise of winter while having a whole bunch of fun.
As a part of the community, the library has contributed to the merriment with of course, Yeti stories in addition to Yeti crafts and face painting. That all seems straightforward enough until the time comes to locate those Yeti stories. Shockingly (or not) very few picture books have been written about Yetis. Last year, for Yetifest's inaugral jaunt, I managed to find two fantastic tales in Nick Seluk's "The Awkward Yeti" as well as Kenneth Oppel's "Peg and the Yeti." At the time though, these wonderful stories made up the entirety of the genre. Fortunately, between 2013's fest and last Saturday's, Ella Burfoot added the enjoyable "Betty and the Yeti" to the canon.
Written in short rhyming text that easily rolls off the tongue "Betty and the Yeti" relates the utterly adorable story of Betty and her little red sled. One day, while traipsing about, Betty discovers piece by piece the makings of a big, hairy, white, and filthy snowsuit. Being the curious child she is, Betty sets out to find the owner of these lost necessaries.
After asking Bear, Whale, and Artic Hare, Betty is directed to a rock behind which she finds a small, shy, and quite naked creature that turns out to be a Yeti. Contrary to the lore of both our own reality as well as Betty's, the Yeti is not a huge, ferocious, loner but is instead a timid critter that not only needs massive amounts of layers to stay warm, but a few friends as well. To the surprise of no one over the age of 4, Betty
and eventually Bear, Whale, and Artic Hare all befriend the Yeti thus nicely emphasizing the importance of not judging based upon appearances.
Interestingly enough, in contrast to this message, it is the appearance of Burfoot's book that is the most arresting aspect of the tale. Consistently utilizing black backgrounds with bright, colorful, rounded drawings, Burfoot's illustrations (not to mention the Yeti subject matter) are what truly set "Betty and the Yeti" apart. The deep contrasts of black and color paired with the rounded characters magnificently evoke the dark reality of winter, the lore of the Yeti, as well as the fictional and fun qualities of both the tale and subject matter. It is an eye catching style and when paired with an enjoyable tale it is, as Saturday's Yetifest proved, sure to appease young readers and listeners.
With forecasts calling for temperatures well below zero, I was more than a trifle excited to be absconding to a far warmer clime in Central America for a mid winter vacation. Just as thrilling though, was the opportunity to spend some time buried in a handful of good reads. After working my way through a dense historical tome, I turned to lighter and more colorful fare; Joseph Heywood's "Red Jacket." Having never read any of Heywood's popular Grady Service Woods Cop mystery series, this seemed like a great opportunity to get a feel for the author as well as get in on a new series from the get go. And I am mighty glad I did.
Like the Woods Cop series, "Red Jacket" is set deep within Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Yet in addition to taking us all the way up to the Keweenaw, "Red Jacket" also takes us back to this Peninsula's mining heyday where we meet Lute Bapcat, "cowboy, Rough Rider, beaver trapper," and now the area's newest game warden.
With a violent, mining labor strike erupting, Bapcat is quickly put to work when decapitated deer carcasses left to rot start popping up, fish streams are poisoned, and odd deforestation occurs all apparently orchestrated by the mine owners in order to starve out the strikers. True to the 1913 historical reality and despite fictional Bapcat's best efforts, the strike culminates in the Italian Hall disaster in which 73 people were crushed or suffocated when a yell of fire in a packed hall led to a panic.
Despite this less than rosy ending, a dose of justice leads to a satisfying conclusion yet it is not necessarily the twists and turns of this mystery that make it worth reading. Instead, it is the plethora of big, colorful characters, the gritty, outdoorsy action, the firm grounding in both the history and the culture of a unique time and place, and the short, sharp dialogue that make "Red Jacket" an enjoyable read. That being said, the tale is occasionally slowed by an overabundance of trivial characters while also being hampered by a somewhat formulaic approach but these weaknesses are more than overshadowed in what turned out to be the perfect vacation read.
I was initially attracted to Howard Norman's memoir "I Hate to Leave this Beautiful Place" simply due to the dual geographical coincidence of Norman's childhood spent in Michigan and his adult summers spent in Calais Vermont, a locale a mere few miles from where my library career began. Yet when a patron also mentioned that it was also a very good read, I finally took the time to pick-up this slender volume. And once I did, I could not put it down. This readability does not though, grow out of an arresting narrative arc. In fact, pinpointing the narrative arc of "I Hate to Leave this Beautiful Place" proves rather difficult. Instead, Norman's tale reads more like a collection of loosely related reminisces or episodes that are in his own words "incidents of arresting strangeness."
The first chapter of his life that Norman turns to, is a boyhood summer spent working in a bookmobile in Grand Rapids, Michigan. In addition to hours spent checking books in and out, Norman also spends time each day watching his absentee father while away his day at the counter of an apothecary.
Chapter two finds Norman in Nova Scotia in a post high school wander where he falls in love with an intense and brilliant painter only to lose her to a plane crash.
Eventually, in chapter three, Norman lands in the Canadian Northwest where he works as a folklorist recording Inuit stories. Slowly but surely however, these stories begin to work on Norman's conscious and these effects in conjunction with the ill-will of an angakok, a shaman, who hates non-Inuits, forces him to take leave of yet another beautiful place.
Chapter four occurs in Calais, Vermont where Norman experiences a persistent and incurable fever that warps his grip on reality for months leading to the final and most assuredly strange chapter of Norman's life in which an acquaintance poet, who is house sitting Norman's Washington D.C. home for the summer, commits suicide after murdering her child within their home. Struggling with whether or not he and his family can possibly live in the house again, he finally determines that, as Robert Frost stated, "the best way out is always through."
This sort of understated, yet deep insight along with poignant literary and intellectual allusion are what give "I Hate to Leave this Beautiful Place" its power. Throughout his remembering and telling, Norman never foists his themes or acumen upon the reader. Instead, he allows his writing and those reading it to develop conclusions of their own. This ability to share in an experience and understanding while making it ones own is quite possibly the most satisfying aspect of "I Hate to Leave this Beautiful Place." However, it is more than rivaled by Norman's fantastic ability to capture the tragic and humorous and to present both to the reader in language that leaves one breathless. This is indeed, a highly recommended read.
Last week a friend from college whom I had not seen for quite some time stopped in for an overnight visit. We stayed up late into the night chatting and chuckling. The next morning when he headed back home to Detroit, my chuckling continued not just because I had had such a great time but also because my friend is such an incongruous character.
A long haired lawyer, this friend is a graceful klutz, a shy motormouth, a brilliant dispenser of words and wisdom that never manages to follow any of his own good advice. He is, one might say, an odd duck. Yet as he drove away and these notions ran through my head, an all together different thought quickly crossed my consciousness. Perhaps my friend might see me the same way I wondered. This idea did not come out of nowhere though. Indeed, it was the happy byproduct of just a few days previous reading of Cecil Castellucci and Sara Varon's delightful and quirky children's creation "Odd Duck."
Part children's picture book, part graphic novel, part early chapter reader, "Odd Duck" is a wonderfully quirky creation that examines the life of Theadora who is literally, an odd duck. Refusing to fly north in the winter, Theadora frequently swims with a teacup balanced on her head to maintain posture in addition to being a reader of old books and a lover of mango salsa. Theadora though, finds nothing strange about these or any other of her habits. However, this perfectly "normal" life is interrupted when Chad moves in next door.
Chad likes to dye his feathers, has no manners, exercises erratically, and fills his yard with strange music and art. At first appalled, Theadora and Chad slowly but surely become good friends until one day when a passerby calls one of them an odd duck. Both Chad and Theadora naturally think the insult was aimed at the other leading first to a fight before eventually, the understanding that being friends and odd ducks is just what makes them happy.
"Odd Duck" won't though, just leave Theadora and Chad happy. Simple and sincere text paired with warm illustrations chock full of their own odd and delightful details will keep children of all ages entertained while also teaching them the value of friendship and being your own person. All told, this is a charmingly peculiar tale.
As the leaves put on a spectacular show and then drift away to slumber, as the sun heads off to its holiday home and spends less and less time in our hemisphere, I too have begun to spend more time with my feet up and a book in hand. While I love the hectic pace of summer, as fall blows and creeps in, I find I am ready for this slowdown and with it, an inward turn toward warm blankets and good books.
One of the first books I grabbed this fall was "Code Name Verity," a young adult novel by Elizabeth Wein. Having received heaps of praise in the past year, this World War II tale full of twists and turns, friendship, daring, and ultimately, tragedy, had been on my list for some time. Yet neither the recommendations or even the general awareness of the plot quite prepared me for this gripping tale.
Written in two parts, "Code Name Verity's" fist half spills forth in an epistolary format throwing us into the confession of our narrator, a female British spy captured in occupied France by the German gestapo tortured into submitting that which we read. Told in order to keep herself alive, this tale is the gripping narrative of a cunning, brash, flirty young woman's rise within the British forces leading up to her current mission. Yet it is also far more. In addition to giving us edge of your seat historical action, Queenie, our narrator and Wein our author instead, weave together an intricate tale of two great friends. For as it turns out, Queenie's tale is inexorably linked to that of her best friend Maddie's.
Maddie too is a young women on the rise in the British forces, however, Maddie is Queenie's absolute opposite. She is a commoner that plays by the rules and is loyal to the end. She is also a terrific pilot and mechanic and it is this skill that finds her in France along with Queenie, left behind in the wrecked fuselage of the plane that flew them there. And it is Maddie's point of view we receive in the second half of the book as suddenly, all we believed we knew is turned upside down.
There is of course, far more to tell about this wonderful novel but in doing so, a fantastic finish would be utterly spoiled. Instead, I will leave you with these words of encouragement to take to your blanket and the now dark night. This is a gem of a book that provides history, action, friendship, love and most importantly strong, inspiring, and beautiful characters that you will fall in love with. Be prepared, you will undoubtedly want to read "Code Name Verity" not just once but twice.
