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Ghost Train, by Paul Yee, illustrated by Harvey Chan • Groundwood Books/Douglas & McIntyre, 1996. 32 Pages.

Choon-yi is a Chinese peasant girl, born with only one arm. Her mother is horrified by her daughter’s deformity, but Choon-yi and her father are close, and he strives to give her the happiest childhood possible.

Choon-yi was also born a special talent — with her one arm, she’s able to draw amazing pictures, capturing people and objects with lifelike clarity.

But the family is poor. One day, Choon-yi’s father decides to travel to North America, where he will be able to find work building a railway through the mountains. He saves and saves, until Choon-yi and her mother are finally able to travel to meet him. But when they arrive, they discover that he has been killed in an accident on the job. Choon-yi is devastated, but she still has a chance to help her father’s spirit find its way home.

The book is gorgeously illustrated, with dark, detailed paintings that capture the emotion and otherworldliness of the narrative. Yee’s story mixes history and legend in a perfectly balanced blend, creating a story that feels simultaneously real and fantastic.

Though the book has pictures, the story is genuinely spooky, with deaths and ghosts and dangers. Readers young as nine should enjoy the story, though its spookiness might intimidate younger readers. Teachers looking for books about the history of the Chinese in North America looking for more than a “just the facts” rendering will enjoy this book as well, as will their students.

Adventure on Thunder Island, by Edna King and Jordan Wheeler • James Lorimer & Company, Publishers, 1991. 95 Pages.

There are four short stories in this book, each of which tells of a First Nations child experiencing a pivotal moment, often supernatural, that teaches them something about their culture. In one story, a boy meets a strange girl in the woods who claims to be his sister. In another, a girl washes ashore the titular island and meets a strange man who already knows her name.

The stories, arranged in order of “reading level and narrative complexity” from easiest to most difficult, have a sort of mythic weight to them, even when relaying mundane and relatable situations. The supernatural events seem completely natural within the narrative, because everything is treated with equal gravity, from a troll that steals children’s thoughts to the awkward negotiation of being the new kid on the block (and an Indian at that).

Though the stories do differ markedly in reading level, more advanced readers will enjoy the early stories as well as the latter ones (my favorite story — involving the above-mentioned troll and some golden walnuts — is the first in the book). Myths are updated here, brought out of the realm of legend and into everyday life. Modern details keep the stories from seeming alien.

Early readers looking for a book to challenge their reading ability or to read aloud with grown ups will enjoy this book, as will readers in fifth grade interested in Ojibwa myths and culture.

A Handful of Time, by Kit Pearson • Puffin Books, 1987

Summer homes might just be the most time travel friendly places on earth. Unmoored from the everyday plodding passage of time, they exist in an odd summer world, where long days and idleness conspire against chronological time and generations blur together in a sea of hand-me-down clothes and dogeared paperbacks. (My thesaurus lists the following among its synonyms for summer: consume time, fritter away time, have leisure, idle away time, pass the time, sit on one’s hands, kill time, while away the time.)

In Kit Pearson’s novel, Patricia is already a bit unmoored by the dissolution of her parents’ marriage when she is sent to stay at her cousins’ summer home in Alberta. The house has been in the family for generations, but Patricia’s mother sold her rights to the house to her younger sister, and hasn’t been to the house in years. This summer is Patricia’s introduction to the house. A pale, chubby, and overly-dressed counterpoint to her freer, wilder cousins, Patricia spends most of her time alone.

One day, in an old cottage under repair, Patricia finds an watch that once belonged to her grandmother. When she winds it, she finds herself back in time, observing her own mother’s childhood at the lake house some 35 years before. But just she begins to know her mother at her own age and see the lake house through her eyes, the watch breaks, leaving Patrica stranded again in her own present.

This is a wonderful story, beautifully told. Pearson manages to deftly capture the small injustices of family life, and the ways that we often don’t know those to whom we are the closest. Patricia’s discovery of the watch perfectly captures the experience of coming — or at least trying — to understand one’s family history, while simultaneously coming to know oneself.

Readers as young as ten who are trying to figure out their place in the world and within the context of their families will enjoy this book. Fans of time travel stories such as Charlotte Sometimes especially will enjoy how Patricia’s accidental discovery of the watch shapes her summer and transforms how she interacts with her contemporary world.

Different Dragons, by Jean Little • Viking Kestrel, 1986

Sometimes it’s hard for adults to remember how large seemingly small problems loom in children’s lives. Ben is a hero of these small dimensions. He’s nervous about staying with his aunt Rose alone while his parents and brother are away. He’s not sure about the dog she produces as a surprise. And he’s definitely not sure about Hana, the strange, brave, blustery girl who lives next door to his aunt. But, as Ben’s father points out, everyone has “different dragons” they must face, and Ben must conquer his own fears.

The book is small but enjoyable, telling a convincingly felt story that captures Ben’s perspective while allowing the reader to see the broader picture. Little does a great job of keeping the story brisk and exciting, allowing quotidian moments the carry their full weight and drama.

According to Amazon.com, this book is recommended for children 8-12. I think that children who are timid or fearful, in particular, will enjoy Ben’s story, though, as Ben himself learns, bravery is more of a conscious choice than an inborn attribute.

Adventure in Istanbul, by Cora Taylor • Coteau Books, 2005. 257 pages.

Twins Maggie and Jennifer couldn’t be more different. Maggie is quiet and careful, loves school, and isn’t likely to do something rash like trying an invisibility spell found stuck inside a book she snuck from the library. Jennifer, on the other hand, is liable to do exactly that. But Jennifer’s intermittent invisibility comes in handy when the two girls team up with their friend Sam and their paternal grandmother (aka Grand) to solve the mystery of their father’s disappearance.

Full of action, adventure, mistaken identity and even a smattering of Classical myth & history, Adventure in Istanbul is a fast paced and well-told adventure, even if it lacks the lyricism of, say, Madeline L’Engle’s books (which Taylor name-checks, and with which Adventure in Istanbul does share some common themes, particularly lost fathers and children who must take an active role in facilitating their return).

I enjoyed the book, though I was a bit put off by its obviously juvenile cover (”That’s just embarrassing,” said Brian, as we settled into our reading at the coffee shop this morning). Readers at the 3rd – 6th grade reading level should enjoy it too, though Jennifer and Maggie seem younger than their thirteen years, and older teens might find little to relate to (and be put off by the girls’ assiduously-chronicled fashion choices. A sparkly vest? A purple hat? Really?).

With the exception of all manner of fuzzy, feathered, or fishy critters, there’s very little I won’t eat. I love food, all manner of tastes and textures. But there are certain foods that, though I enjoy them in certain dishes, completely gross me out on their own. Here they are:

1. Hard boiled eggs: Tasty on a salad, ghost of Easters past on its own. Remember how you’d eat all the jelly beans, all the chocolate rabbits, and then crack open the egg, only to find that it had turned green? Yeah.

2. Mayonnaise: Fabulous when home-made and served with roasted beets. Delicious in moderation on sandwiches. On its own, in a jar? I can barely look at it.

3. Gum: I had a friend in high school who used to put gum balls in rice krispy treats. As far as I’m concerned, it’s gross no matter where you put it. And does it even count as food if you’ve got to spit it out when you’re done with it?

4. Avocado: I love it in sushi. Even more in Guacamole. But on it’s own, slowly turning brown in its reptile shell? Ew.

The Séance, by Iain Lawrence • Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 2008, 272 pages.

I’ve always been fascinated with spiritualism, particularly that brief period in the early twentieth century where science and superstition collided, and many believed that the world was on the brink of proving, once and for all, the existence of things beyond our ken.

Set in the 1920’s, The  Séance takes place at the height of Spiritualism in North America, with rival mediums competing for spiritual followers and Houdini — yes that Houdini on the scene trying to expose their fakery. Scooter King, the 13-year old of a professional medium, is caught in the middle as he tries to protect his mother from Houdini’s scrutiny and solve a mystery that threatens not only the spiritualist community, the lives of everyone involved.

The book was engrossing, though I felt at times that some of the secondary characters felt a bit, well, secondary and two dimensional. My inner middle-schooler, however, was thrilled to have the inside scoop on some of the tricks of the trade employed by Scooter’s mother and other mediums, and Scooter was the perfect narrator, simultaneously seeing more than those around him and falling prey to his own need to believe in the mysterious. And I loved having Houdini as a character, especially one so well-fleshed-out and believable.

The book was a bit creepy at times, but I felt like it was entirely appropriate for fourth graders through sixth graders. Older readers might find Scooter’s adventures a bit childish (though the character himself reads as very mature), but the mystery was dense enough that older readers will still be intrigued. I could even see this book being a good fit for less advanced older readers. The copy I read (a hardcover from the library) had a very spooky and atmospheric cover  that even high schoolers wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen holding.

I went grocery shopping with my grandmother and her caregiver today. As we were unloading bags from the car, I was struck with this sudden memory, a full on flashback of the time Brian and I visited grandma back in 2003, when we first moved to the West Coast.

I guess grandma must have been about 81 then, and she was oh so much healthier. A little prone to worry, maybe, but not nearly as bad as today, where the gaps in her memory get filled in with imagined illnesses and tragedies. She was always so active, my grandmother, and when Brian and I came back from the grocery store with her, she refused our offers of help, piling her grocery bags into a wheelbarrow she kept by the garage and wheeling them up to the back door with casual ease. Brian and I stood by helplessly, a little stupidly, watching grandma and the wheelbarrow moving towards us in the twilight and waiting for our chance to swoop in and grab the bags so we could at least carry them up the steps.

“When we get old, let’s be like your grandma,” Brian said.

“Agreed.”

Today grandma woke up confused. This morning she sat at the foot of my bed and wondered if my Aunt Carol, her youngest, had taken an overdose of pills, or maybe had a bad fall. She agreed with me that it was probably just a bad dream, but still she couldn’t keep from crying.

At the grocery store, too, she was muddled, and when we got home she was convinced the alarm was still on, even though she’d turned it off herself. “I think Carol lost a lot of money,” she said. “She left it in her classroom and forgot to lock the door.” Carol laughed when I called her. “If only I had a large sum of money to lose.”

As the day wore on, grandma got better. We went for a walk, and admired the architecture of some nearby houses. “Like a castle!” she said. “I bet it costs a fortune to heat,” I replied. I guess I was a bit gloomy from the morning, too.

After we got home, we looked through a picture album while we drank our tea. “Where do they live now?” I asked, pointing to some of my father’s cousins.

“They moved to California.”

“Oh!”

“And then there was a huge fire that raged up the coast, and they were trapped.”

“Really?”

“Oh, but first they got tuberculosis.”

Everyone gets tuberculosis in my grandma’s stories lately. I don’t know what that’s about.

Anyway, then we had dinner, and then we settled in for a night of PBS, first the Human Spark and then the Audition. The latter programme (see that extra ‘me’ there? I’m in Canada) chronicled the Metropolitan Opera’s annual National Council auditions, where young opera singers from around the country compete for a cash prize, a chance to sing at the Met, and a jumpstart on their opera careers.

Grandma’s not a huge opera fan, but she seemed to enjoy the show for the most part, making comments about various singers’ abilities and mannerisms and watching fairly raptly. With about a half hour to go, though, she’d had enough and decided to go to bed.

“I’ll be up in a bit,” I said. “I want to see who wins.”

“Oh yes,” said Grandma. “The ghost!”

Seems like the ghost always wins.

Hello! I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting things over here, along with everything else that’s not a paper on database systems or intellectual freedom. But the semester’s almost done, which makes this a great time to explore the hotses and notses of the week a la Loobylu.

Brian's most recently-finished piece

Hot!

1. Backyard Astronomy: Or in our case, Duboce Park astronomy. Over the summer, when I was visiting my folks, I asked my dad for advice on telescopes after Sweetney tweeted a question about telescopes for beginners (File under: sentences that would not have made sense in the Twentieth Century). Dad did some research (try and stop him), and found that one of his favorite telescope-vendors offered a relatively inexpensive option, good for city-viewing and simple enough for inexpert astronomers.

Fast forward to yesterday, when Dad’s itchy Xmas trigger finger resulted in an early-December surprise telescope at our door. Brian and I braved the cold (and clouds) and spent a happy if frigid hour in Duboce Park looking at the moon before toddling home for some hot chocolate. Hurrah for astronomy! The moon is pale and lovely, especially up close.

2. Brian! The boy is all sorts of hot. He finished his latest piece Monday, and he’s just put a show up at Bean There, a cafe in our neighborhood. It’s got high ceilings and loads of morning light, and his pieces look great. We’ll be hosting a reception at 7 o’clock this Friday (tomorrow, that is). Stop by if you live in San Francisco! I might invite you to go moon-watching.

Here's a picture from outside at night. No morning light, but look at them windows!

Not!

Mess. The house is in chaos, and it’s 99.9% my doing. I need to clean my closets, but first I need to sort through the piles of things piled in front of the closets because the closets are in such chaos.

Money. Being in grad school ain’t earning me any. In fact, it’s costing money. Whose bright idea was that?

Alright. Enough with the notses, back to the hotses! Here’s another look at Fixed Landscape #4:

I found my cellphone (it was in my bathrobe pocket).