09.09.09
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 9:21 pm by Administrator
Why read grown-up books when you can read something fun? About a year and a half ago, a friend and I stumbled upon a book called Operation Red Jericho in a discount bookstore. It looked neat and only cost four dollars, so we both snatched up a copy. That was the best four dollars I’ve ever spent.
I should explain what attracted us to Operation Red Jericho in the first place. It was the illustrations. The book is an adventure novel, but it is full of fold-out illustrations: maps, diagrams, “The Weaponry, History, and Fighting Techniques of the Sujing Quantou,” and more. Better still, much of this material is marked “confidential.” This excites me.
My friend and I immediately contacted our inner twelve-year-olds and started reading. Soon we had both acquired the second book in the series, Operation Typhoon Shore. We also formed a secret club. I can’t even tell you what it’s called—it’s that secret. I can tell you that we have saved the world numerous times by meeting at our favorite Indian restaurant and consuming large quantities of butter chicken. The food was the only thing that got us through many agonizing months of waiting for the final book, Operation Storm City. We’re not sure how we’ll entertain ourselves now that the story is finished.
You’ll be wondering what that story is all about. A young brother and sister, Rebecca (handy with a sword) and Douglas (brilliant thinker with lucky socks), search for their parents in China in 1920. They end up on a ship belonging to their uncle, Captain Fitzroy MacKenzie (owns a pet tiger), and adventure ensues. The books are full of secrets, plots, ne’er-do-wells, sword fights, explosions … I could go on and on. Let’s just say the world needs saving from some serious bad guys, and soon it’s up to Becky, Doug, and their friends to do the saving.
If you’re looking for serious literature, this is not it. But if you want a little fun, or perhaps an excuse to wake up your inner twelve-year-old and form a secret club …
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05.31.09
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 5:23 pm by Administrator
Oh, the Places You’ll Go (published in 1990) was Dr. Seuss’s last book. Over the years, it’s become a somewhat predictable but still fun graduation gift and, since this is graduation season, what better time to write about this entertaining piece of inspiration?
I have owned three copies of this book. The first I bought at a particularly un-fun time in my life when I was working hard (and not very successfully) on “un-slumping” myself. Did the good doctor’s wisdom help? Well, it certainly did put things into perspective, reminding me—no, change that—teaching me for the first time that you can reach new and undreamed-of highs after you’ve hit the lowest of lows. No one had ever told me that before.
The second copy was given to me a few years later when I left an old, worn-out job. Was I on my way to bigger and better things with my “head full of brains” and my “shoes full of feet”? You bet! Before I knew it I was full of dreams and energy and hope. I wasn’t famous, but I certainly was “ready for anything under the sky.” Until the next lurch, slump, bump. Ah, but that’s just life, as I was now learning.
These two copies are lost now. My third copy of Oh, the Places You’ll Go! is included in the book Your Favorite Seuss. I pull it out and read it once in a while, when life looks bright—or dark; when I am hopeful—or not; when I am moving ahead, certain of my direction—or stalled in place, waiting for things to change. The reading always brings a smile to my face.
So what have I learned from this wise philosopher? Simply this: You never know what is coming next. It might be good, or it might be bad. It might carry your master plan forward, or it might send you in a new direction or derail you entirely. What’s to be done? Just keep going, keep trying. This is how mountains are moved. This isn’t a profound philosophy with a great mystery at its center, but it does work.
And the last part of my message today?
Your mountain is waiting.
So … get on your way!
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01.27.09
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 8:15 pm by Administrator
English doesn’t always make sense, but that’s okay. I don’t always make sense either, which may partially explain why I enjoy learning about the little quirks of English; they make my quirks seem insignificant.
I first read The Mother Tongue in the early 1990s and was reintroduced to it a few years ago when my great-uncle Tom loaned me a copy to take my mind off my cancer treatment. For some of us, a romp through the oddities of language is just the thing to brighten our day. This is not a serious linguistic study, but has lots of tidbits of information presented with a touch of humor.
If you’ve been reading along with Adventures in Editing, by now you have probably realized I enjoy humor, and you will not be surprised to know that my favorite part of The Mother Tongue is the short but entertaining chapter about swearing. Actually, I very rarely swear, but I like to have a good supply of naughty words to say when I, for example, drop a can of soup on my foot. And Bryson has given me a whole new outlook on one of our language’s most versatile words, which I will not write here because this is a PG-rated blog. You’ll have to look that one up for yourself!
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01.20.09
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 7:04 pm by Administrator
This book is amusingly and appropriately subtitled The Curmudgeon’s Guide to the Many Things That Can Go Wrong in Print—And How to Avoid Them. I’m not a curmudgeon yet, but I think I have great potential to become one someday, and I’ve seen my share of characters lapse into commas, so Walsh’s book became an instant favorite of mine the first time I read it.
I haven’t read it in a while, but I got to thinking about Lapsing Into a Comma again when I was writing my lament on lost hyphens (“Where Have All the Hyphens Gone?”). I’ve never seen anyone other than Bill Walsh take the time to explain why “bad hair day” isn’t hyphenated. In fact, I don’t know of anyone else who has explained the ins and outs of hyphenation in a way that makes sense and is often downright funny.
Of course the whole book isn’t about hyphens. Walsh also explains other misunderstood punctuation marks, points out some frequently misspelled and/or misused words, and reminds us to look out for “$100 dollars” and other sneaky errors. Best of all, his fun-to-read explanations show the reader how to think editorially. Lapsing Into a Comma has certainly made me a better writer and editor, and it didn’t even hurt!
This post could have been longer, but I got distracted while flipping through the book. Rather than go on and on describing the contents, I’ll just recommend that you read it yourself. Right now I’m going to read about “Moniker Lewinsky” again.
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01.15.09
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 9:31 pm by Administrator
This, somewhat obviously, is related to Age-appropriate Reading. I was actually going to write a serious post today about hyphens and their difficulties, but I don’t feel like it. I would much rather run and do something fun! And what could be more fun than Dr. Seuss?
Your Favorite Seuss is a collection of thirteen Seuss stories, compiled by Janet Schulman and Cathy Goldsmith. Just reading the table of contents makes me giddy: If I Ran the Zoo, The Cat in the Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, The Sneetches, The Lorax… These are the books that first made me love reading. I believe Green Eggs and Ham was instrumental in turning me into a word nerd (“I do not like them, Sam-I-am” —a phrase that is still useful!).
Dr. Seuss taught us that words do not have to be serious things. You can take them out and play with them, and sometimes you can even make up new ones. You can let words roll around on your tongue and then you can say them in a silly voice. You can take them apart and put them back together in new and interesting ways. And when you’re done doing all that, you can take them and make them into a hat!
No, seriously—if by playing with words you learn to love them and learn what they’re all about, you will be better able to use those words to say what needs saying. Because words aren’t just for playing; they’re also (and mostly) for communicating our very important thoughts. Something Dr. Seuss never ever forgot.
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12.30.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 9:46 pm by Administrator
“Rats. I can’t tell my gum from my silly putty.” I just hate it when then happens.
For reasons I have never really understood, many people think I am very serious, a deep-thinking intellectual who just doesn’t know how to have fun. What planet do these people come from? Sure, I listen to NPR and watch PBS and think a lot about a lot of things, but “serious”? Ha!
As evidence of my totally non-serious nature, I offer my thoughts on another of my favorite books, Bill Watterson’s The Authoritative Calvin and Hobbes (1990). A masterpiece! Spaceman Spiff never looked better. And that first bit with the elephant—I laughed till I peed.
Seriously though, Calvin and Hobbes has long been one of my favorites, and I still suffer from occasional withdrawal thirteen years after Watterson stopped drawing the strip. (Get Fuzzy has taken most of the pain away—most, but not all.) What a relief to be able to dip into one of the C & H books and instantly feel the cares of the day slip away. So many of the Calvin and Hobbes strips are like old friends to me, the kind you can meet up with every few years to laugh and reminisce and say, “Remember when scientific progress went boink!?” Good times.
I feel like I should keep writing—there’s so much more to say—but I have the book open in front of me, Calvin and Hobbes are playing archaeologist in the backyard, and I’m having trouble tearing myself away. If you’re also a fan, you will understand why I have to stop writing and turn the page; if you’re not a fan, poor you.
I’m going to read now, and maybe later I’ll jump into my spaceship and zoom off to an unexplored and very dangerous planet, or perhaps I’ll transmogrify myself into an elephant. Boink!
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11.08.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 2:22 pm by Administrator
“The art of losing isn’t hard to master,” at least, according to my favorite poem by my favorite poet. “One Art” has been my favorite poem for about twenty years now. I discovered it when I was twentyish, or even a little younger, back before I’d learned the “art of losing.” At that point I hadn’t lost anything yet—I didn’t have much to lose—and I’m not sure now what drew me to these lines. But I think that’s what great writing does sometimes; it seeps into your mind and changes you (or prepares you) when you aren’t paying attention.
“Then practice losing farther, losing faster.” None of us gets through life without losing some things. The trick is to become an expert at losing; then it won’t bother you so much. Sometimes losing brings freedom. I learned this the hard way when I got cancer. In only a few months I lost my health, my apartment, my ability to support myself, my sense of security, my assumption that I would still be alive the following year. I was very aware of having lost quite a lot. Strangely, though, I didn’t feel as if I’d lost; I felt free. I’d lost far and fast, and it wasn’t a disaster.
There’s always a catch though, isn’t there? After tripping along through line after line of minor and major losses, the poem takes a sudden turn:
“—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love)…”
I read these lines and feel that old familiar catch in my throat, and I remember that sometimes the pain of one particular loss will linger, no matter how many years it’s been or how practiced you are at losing. On some days, some losses still feel like disaster.
(Read the complete poem at Poets.org.)
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10.04.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 6:40 pm by Administrator
As much as I enjoy language and grammar, I don’t very often read grammar books for fun. Most grammar books are informative and interesting in their own way, but they will not keep you turning the pages late into the night.
Enter Karen Elizabeth Gordon and The Deluxe Transitive Vampire. This is a grammar book that is actually a joy to read, plus it has pictures of gargoyles, bats, and other fun things. (Some of the illustrations are nudes, so if you’re offended by that sort of thing, you may want to choose a more conventional grammar book. But you will miss so much!) This is the grammar book I would write if I decided to write a grammar book. Fortunately for me, the book already exists and I can just sit back and enjoy it.
I suppose I enjoyed the sentences I learned to diagram and parse back in middle school. If I hadn’t I probably would have gone into molecular biology rather than editing. But we never had a sentence quite as interesting as
The bat suspended from Loona’s hairdo was repulsed by her Nuit Blanche perfume.
Or how about
The rat shot the pizza chef dead.
That second sentence always makes me smile. I think it has something to do with the illustration of the rat holding a revolver, presumably aimed at the unfortunate pizza chef, who I guess made a really bad pie. Not enough cheese, perhaps. Or maybe too many mushrooms.
Back to reality (drat!). If you feel your grammar is a little rusty and the thought of actually reading a grammar book makes you yawn, you may want to try The Deluxe Transitive Vampire. You will learn some things and be pleasantly entertained. You will learn that
The mannequin gave the baby vampire her phone number, but she knew he’d never call.
(Actually, in this example you’re learning two things: how to join independent clauses, and, more importantly to some of you, baby vampires are unreliable.)
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10.02.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 7:03 pm by Administrator
If you’re the sort of wandering soul who walks around with your head in the clouds, this is the book for you. The Cloudspotter’s Guide is an official publication of The Cloud Appreciation Society, of which I am a proud member. For the record, I am number 5191 of 13,494 current members.
Haven’t heard of The Cloud Appreciation Society? This is a UK-based group (http://www.cloudappreciationsociety.org/) devoted to combating “blue-sky thinking” and encouraging the appreciation of the “ephemeral beauty” of clouds. The society even has an official manifesto, which I find exciting; I feel like I’m doing something subversive, coloring outside the lines, rejecting polite society’s usual groupthink. In a way, that is exactly what cloudspotters do.
“Blue-sky thinking” is “happily ever after” thinking. You know how it goes: the prince and princess overcome all their problems and live happily ever after. Every day is perfectly perfect, with a deep blue sky, no troubles, no clouds—day after day after day. How boring is that? Yet I and many others grew up believing that this was how life should be: You go through some hard times, then you get everything together and keep it together forever. Everything will be beautiful forever. Wrong!
Clouds remind us that beauty (as life) is ephemeral. You can’t freeze your life on one perfect day and keep it perfect forever, and you can’t capture a cloud. You can take a picture, but even the clearest photograph will be missing some of the essence of the cloud, which is motion. Clouds are in a constant state of flux, which you know if you’ve ever watched a parade of puffy clouds marching across the sky. The Cumulus that looks like a unicorn now will look more like a squashed toad in a few moments. That breathtaking sunset with fire-tinged Altocumulus will soon be gone. Stop and look, at least for a moment.
I’m at the end of this post and realize I haven’t written much about the book. Briefly, The Cloudspotter’s Guide describes cloud classification, how clouds form, and how to identify and appreciate clouds. I wish some of the photographs were in color, but otherwise this is an informative and enjoyable read (and you can see lots of color cloud photos on the society’s website).
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09.20.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 11:13 am by Administrator
I discovered this little book just last week. And no, it’s not really about a barking dog. The subtitle is The Quirky History and Lost Art of Diagramming Sentences, which explains why this book became an instant favorite of mine.
If you’ve been paying close attention to Adventures in Editing, you may remember that I loved diagramming sentences in school. Actually, I like diagrams of all kinds: illustrated timelines, scientific illustrations showing how viruses kill, the instructions that came with my futon, you name it. Of course I also like words, and I like putting words together, so when I first learned how to make diagrams showing how words go together—well, let’s just say I was a very happy word nerd.
I’d never wondered about how sentence diagramming got started, and I thank Kitty Burns Florey for teaching me things I never imagined I would want to know. Actually, diagramming began in the nineteenth century, when, says Florey, self-improvement meant learning good grammar, penmanship, and manners, as opposed to repeating affirmations and aligning yourself with the energy of the universe. (For the record, my grammar and manners are pretty good, my penmanship is atrocious, there are a couple of affirmations I find helpful, and my energy is slightly out of whack.)
One of the first forms of diagramming put the words inside little bubbles instead of on those nice straight lines many of us learned in middle school. Honestly, right now I couldn’t diagram a complex sentence to save my life, but I do remember how much I loved making those lines and putting words on them. Putting words in bubbles seems so flighty, so—I was going to say “French” but I think I’ll go with “cartoonish.” I can say with absolute certainty that if the bubbles had caught on in diagramming, diagramming would not have caught on with me.
Do schools still teach sentence diagramming? I don’t know. Florey says diagramming is not as popular as it was in the 1950s and 1960s. I was in school in the 1980s and got a healthy dose of diagramming. For years I was convinced that those hours of putting words in their places helped me understand how to write a good sentence, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe the diagramming was merely a reinforcement of the grammar I already knew. Or maybe it was just a new way to play with words. Then again, playing is a great way to learn, isn’t it?
Speaking of playing with words, if you do nothing else with Sister Bernadette’s Barking Dog, at least take a look at the diagram of a sentence from Monty Python’s “All-England Summarize Proust Competition” (pages 84 and 85). Imagine getting that on a final exam!
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