Little Women Celebrates Stories, Sisterhood and Their Intersections

Ten years ago, someone made a decision that would ultimately have an enormous impact on both of our lives. That someone was my very dear friend Beth, who joined Epinions ten years ago today under the name Befus. She had no idea when she typed that initial review that it would be the first of more than a thousand, but she has poured her heart and soul into upwards of 1200 reviews here, each a well-crafted gem that reveals her gentle spirit and hearty humor along with her incisive insights.

While we encountered each other occasionally beforehand, my friendship with Beth began in earnest in October of 2005 thanks to our shared passion for J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis and poetry, and though I’d been on the site five years at that point, it wasn’t until then that Epinions truly felt like home. In the seven and a half years since, we have ruminated over countless tales that ignite our souls, warm our hearts and reflect the Love of our great Creator. We reread the Harry Potter series together in anticipation of the final installment, volleyed e-mails back and forth as we puzzled over the conundrums of LOST, shared our enthusiasm over easy reader masters like Arnold Lobel and Cynthia Rylant, and gave each other an endless stream of recommendations.

Together, we’ve witnessed enormous changes in our families, particularly the growth of her highly creative and compassionate daughter, now on the cusp of 11, and the graduations and relocations of my very different but equally accomplished brothers. We’ve shared our deepest dreams and fears, spurred each other to new creative heights, comforted each other in the midst of our darkest lows and giggled madly over absurd IM conversations well past midnight. We share the sort of bond enjoyed by Jo and Beth, the two middle sisters in the Louisa May Alcott novel Little Women. As I pondered what to review in order to mark Beth’s Epi-versary – which also coincides with my 3333rd post here – my boyfriend Will, to whom Beth introduced me, suggested the 1994 film adaptation of this classic, one of the dearest stories to Beth’s heart.

I saw this version when it first came out, one of the few movies I watched in the theater with my paternal grandma, and aside from an Alcott biography I’d read that touched on the novel, it served as my introduction to the story, though it’s funny I hadn’t read the book, since Little Women was the first novel my dad ever read. Certainly it has an appeal that transcends gender and generational divides. The tale involves the four March sisters – upright Meg, spunky Jo, angelic Beth and tempestuous Amy – who grow up amid the backdrop of the Civil War with a father on the front lines and a tough but graceful mother who raises them to be kind, moral young ladies of intelligence and resourcefulness.

As I watched, I was struck again by the similarities between protagonist Jo and Anne Shirley, the heroine of L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series. Both are aspiring writers who are drawn to the melodramatic and fanciful and only meet with widespread literary success when they take the initially infuriating advice of a love interest and write instead from their personal experience. Both are non-conformists who display extremes of generosity and pettiness. Both are horrified when a dear chum proposes marriage, and both struggle mightily with the idea of growing up and accepting the changes that separate them from cherished friends and family. Winona Ryder captures the swirling emotions of this dynamic character perfectly. While the girls are often together throughout the movie, we get to know Jo much more intimately, and she feels very real, both flawed and extraordinary.

As appealing as Jo is, I’ve always been particularly drawn to the sweet, sickly Beth, who, like me, is rather shy and enjoys playing the piano. Claire Danes conveys her hesitance and gentleness well, and her scenes involving her illnesses are particularly affecting. I found myself wishing we would see a bit more of her, but when she is a central character, she makes a powerful impact. Trini Alvarado also seems to embody Meg well, though she gets even less attention than Beth and at times seems a little lost in the shuffle. The trilling, motor-mouthed young Kirsten Dunst is a little dynamo as Amy, the youngest sister, and she frequently steals the spotlight with her precocious mischief. In contrast, Samantha Mathis seems listless as the older Amy; if we’d only seen her at this age, it might feel like a more fitting performance, but as it is I just found myself missing that spit and vinegar.

This adaptation was written by Robin Swicord and directed by Gillian Armstrong, who both seem to have great affection for the source material. The movie is beautifully filmed, especially the winter scenes full of gently falling snow and festive expanses. It also makes one feel good about humanity; while everyone has foibles, there’s a real sense of goodness throughout, and even ornery old cranks like Mary Wickes’ Aunt March and John Neville’s Mr. Laurence display moments of exuberance and grace. While I always felt bad for Christian Bale’s boyish Laurie, who remains frozen in time by the woman he so desperately loves, the more seasoned sweetness of Gabriel Byrne’s German professor Friedrich Bhaer is equally endearing, if not so steeped in shared history.

Little Women might not be a perfect adaptation – so few of those exist – but then, as it was my starting point, I don’t much mind the omissions and departures. I find it a lovely family film that celebrates inventiveness, companionship and a deep love of the written word, all hallmarks of my friendship with Beth. For the ways in which superlative stories have brought us together, I am deeply grateful; my life would be woefully bereft were she not a part of it. Here’s to you, Beth!

Number 3100: Explore Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney

Back in May, I timed my 3000th post here on Epinions to coincide with the eight Epi-versary of my fellow bookworm Beth. When I realized that my reviewing pace was putting my 3100th review in close proximity to the Epi-versary of another extraordinary Epinionator, I pondered what might make an appropriate subject of a review to celebrate the marvelous Mark’s six years on the site. Then I happened upon Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney, and I stopped looking and started reading.

I had already seen the documentary from which this coffee table book by Katherine and Richard Greene arose, and I found it thoroughly enjoyable, so I went into this handsome biography with high expectations, and I’m happy to say they were met. Though it’s not quite 200 pages long, the hefty size allows for a fair amount of writing on each page, along with illustrations in the form of photos, sketches, movie stills, posters, memos, newspaper clippings and all sorts of other visual materials. Even those who aren’t too interested in Walt himself might want to browse through this book simply for the wealth of visual materials showing classic characters and attractions in their early stages.

The book includes a foreword by Diane Disney Miller, the older of Walt’s two daughters, and the book frequently quotes her as well. Sadly, Walt’s younger daughter, Sharon, died in 1993, several years before these interviews were conducted, but earlier recollections from her and other deceased relatives and associates pop up here and there. Most of the quotes, however, come from the Greenes’ interviews with 77 people who had some kind of personal connection to Walt, whether through family, friendship or business.

As the Introduction explains, the raw material for the documentary included about 38 hours of interviews that had to be whittled down to fit into an hour-and-a-half-long movie. Creating a book allowed more room for these voices to be heard. That’s not to say that the book is nothing but a collection of quotes. Instead, it is a cohesive narrative told in five parts, each broken down further into multiple sections.

First Dreams focuses on Walt’s young adulthood and his early forays into animation and movies. Here the Greenes recount his earliest projects, including the Alice in Wonderland shorts, which involved a real child immersed in a fantastical animated land; Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Walt’s first major animated character; the creation and renaming of Mickey Mouse; and the beginning of the Silly Symphonies. Half of the six sections involve Walt’s career, while the other half deal with his personal life, focusing on his parents, Flora and Elias; his wife, Lilly; and his fondness for the sport of polo.

Worlds to Conquer begins with the ambitious experiment of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs before delving into the darker days of the animators’ strike and World War II, both of which had a major impact upon the studio’s productivity. Broken into seven sections, this part also discusses Walt’s passion for constantly improving his craft, from bringing live animals into the studio for Bambi to pushing the boundaries of animation with Fantasia. It also touches on his goodwill trip to South America, out of which came the movies Saludos Amigos and The Three Caballeros, and his massive output of films for the government. It was a time of intense highs like the Snow White premiere and crushing lows like his mother’s death by asphyxiation, and it ultimately led to a shift in focus.

New Horizons deals with Walt’s foray into live action, discussing his action films and documentaries and his decision to embrace television rather than fearing it as a threat to his success as a filmmaker. This part of the book, which includes 11 sections, is the longest, encompassing Walt’s passion for nature, his ability to see the possibilities inherent in television, his fondness for trains and the delight he took in carefully crafting his two major theme parks, only one of which he would live to see opened. It also discusses the animated films of the time, and some of the tidbits here are fascinating. For instance, the scene at the beginning of Lady and the Tramp in which Jim presents the Cocker Spaniel puppy to his wife in a hatbox was inspired by Walt having done the same thing. I also found it interesting that Walt disliked Alice in Wonderland, one of the few animated Disney features I don’t particularly enjoy, complaining that it had no heart. Not so with Cinderella, which was being crafted at the same time, and the recollection of Walt’s idea to have Ilene Woods, who voiced her, harmonize with herself is wonderful. Throw in the broad comedies like The Shaggy Dog and The Parent Trap that are the focus of the last section, and this is a very packed chapter.

Tomorrow Land features eight sections and concludes with Walt’s death in 1966. It spends a good chunk of time on Mary Poppins, considered by many to be Walt’s crowning achievement in the realm of movies. Here we read about the tug-of-war with P. L. Travers, who wrote the books upon which the movie is based, and the warm sense of synchronicity among Walt and the Sherman Brothers when it came to their vision for this film. When I watched The Boys, a documentary about the Sherman Brothers, last year, I first heard the story recounted here about how deeply Walt connected to the song Feed the Birds. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” he said of the song, which he often asked “the boys” to play for him. This anecdote particularly moves me because that’s always been my favorite song in the movie and one of my favorite Disney songs period. New to me, and quite amusing, was Dick Van Dyke’s confession that he so wanted to play the senior banker that he offered to do it for free and actually ended up paying for the privilege, as Walt wheedled him into donating $4000 to CalArts, an institute for the arts that he founded and to which he left half his estate. The remainder of the chapter discusses Walt’s involvement in the World’s Fair, his obsession with city planning and vision for Epcot, his enthusiasm for travel, his last months and the reaction to his death. As my grandpa was the same age as Walt when he died, also of quickly-progressing lung cancer, this sad final portion particularly resonates with me.

Finally, Walt’s Legacy is far shorter and is basically just a collection of nine commentaries by various experts about Walt’s impact upon the world. These include late news anchor Walter Cronkite, film scholar Leonard Maltin and children’s book author Maurice Sendak. Science fiction author Ray Bradbury, a close friend of Walt’s for the last couple years of his life, gets the final word, eloquently discussing the positive difference he made.

The book is formatted so that you can easily read a section in one sitting and then decide whether you want to go on to the next one right away or just let those few pages simmer a while. The larger part of the book deals with his career, but the personal sections take up almost as much space. The design makes leafing through the sections simple. I especially like that each career-focused section is printed on a white background and has a headline of white letters against a red strip, while the personal sections have beige backgrounds and the headline strip is gold. Meanwhile, the quotes scattered throughout both sections stand out, with some in blue pull-out boxes and others in yellow or beige. Meanwhile, all of Walt’s quotes are in red letters and simply printed against the white background instead of boxed in. The book is loaded with great quotes that lend insight to Walt directly or indirectly, but of the ones I hadn’t heard or read before, the one that stood out most to me is this from Walt: “All right, I’m corny. But I think there’s just about a hundred and forty million people in this country who are just as corny as I am.” I’m happy to be one of them.

This book presents a vivid picture of an extraordinary man from humble beginnings who was forever driven by his creativity and his desire to keep making new innovations. He comes across as a perfectionist but not a workaholic; while he was always very hands-on with his films, television projects and theme park plans, he was also a devoted father who always took time to play with his daughters. A strong work ethic and a sense of childlike wonder helped propel his company, as did his willingness to take huge financial risks. As this book was conceived partly as a response to unflattering portraits of Walt that emerged after his death, one might say that its unfailingly sunny portrayal is a bit suspect; every time a situation comes up in which Walt’s actions are called into question, he comes out in the right. Does the book lionize him a bit too much? Maybe. But even if there might be some less palatable aspects of his personality left unexplored, the dozens of positive anecdotes strengthen the credibility of the authors, and his body of work and subsequent legacy speak for themselves.

This December marks the 110th anniversary of Walt’s birth. It’s a great time to get to know the man behind the Mouse a little better. Unless you’re already an expert – and maybe even if you are – you should find some new insights within Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney. I certainly did. Thank you, Walt – and Mark, too – for making the world a more magical place.

Robin McKinley Weaves a Timeless Tale in Beauty

When I was ten, I found out that Disney’s next animated feature would be Beauty and the Beast. My initial reaction was surprise that this was a fairy tale they’d never tackled. I knew the story, or at least one version of it, quite well, and I was a little disappointed that the movie would be such familiar territory for me. As it turned out, however, it wasn’t. In the Disney version, Belle is an only child, so there are no petty, unkind sisters to contend with. Moreover, when her father seeks shelter in the Beast’s castle, it is his mere presence that sparks his host’s ire, not an act of thievery. Meanwhile, Gaston, the arrogant huntsman so intent on marrying Belle despite her lack of interest, was an entirely new character to me. Despite a few key similarities, the movie ultimately bore fairly minimal resemblance to the fairy tale I knew. Robin McKinley’s novel Beauty, published in the late 1970s, comes closer to the version I remember from my earliest years, though it too differs in some fundamental ways.

In this retelling, Beauty is the nickname of Honour, a young woman who has grown up reasonably happy despite the loss of her mother at an early age. She loves her father, a kind businessman, and her two sisters, Hope and Grace, both of whom are more obviously beautiful than she is. Beauty, who narrates the novel, considers herself plain, but she has an intellect that sets her apart from the others in her family. Growing up in luxury, she has easy access to books, and reading is her favorite leisurely pursuit. But when her father’s fortunes change, she and the rest of her family must adjust to a new way of life, one that involves hard labor and meager possessions in a town several weeks’ travel away. Industrious Beauty fares well in her new life, working as tirelessly as any man and tending to her beloved horse Greatheart, one of the few remnants of her old existence. Nonetheless, she feels a yearning for adventure, and when her father returns from a journey with a harrowing tale of an encounter with a fearsome Beast, she sees an opportunity to live up to her birth name and bring some excitement into her life.

The book is divided into three parts, with the third taking up more than half the book. Still, that leaves nearly half the book before Beauty even meets the Beast, who in this version is both hospitable and elusive. He provides Beauty with everything she could possibly want – except her family. Indeed, that is arguably the central conflict of the book. While his monstrous appearance makes her nervous, especially initially, what truly grieves her is the separation from her close-knit family and the thought that, though they reside only half a day’s journey away, she may never see them again. Because we spend so much time with her family beforehand, we understand the depth of her bond to them, which only deepened when the family’s fortunes took a tumble.

While I love her doting father and find her gentle sisters a refreshing change from the norm, the most dynamic member of her family is Hope’s cheerful husband Ger, a talented blacksmith who helps the family rebuild after bankruptcy seemed to spell their ruination. Beauty develops a special connection to her brother-in-law, who seems to understand her independent spirit better than her own flesh and blood. At the same time, the depth of the relationship between him and Hope is never in doubt, and Grace, too, demonstrates her capacity to love deeply in circumstances as trying in their own way as Beauty’s. I almost think the sisters’ names would have been better switched, as hope is such a fundamental part of Grace’s character and fuels the novel’s climax. Truly there are no villains in this book, just unfortunate events that often come about due to uncontrollable forces. Because of this, elements of the climax require Beauty to act illogically just for the sake of heightening tension, which makes the denouement slightly less satisfying than it could be.

The Beast does hold Beauty captive, though she has agreed to live in the castle of her own free will and is at liberty to spend her days as she pleases, riding the devoted Greatheart over the beautiful grounds and spending hours in her room or the library poring over books. While she is hardly treated like a prisoner and she comes to look forward to her conversations with the Beast, it’s easy to understand why she is reluctant to accept his declarations of love at first. As in the movie, I think it has less to do with his appearance than with his behavior, particularly the threats, idle though they may have been, that he lodged against her father. Additionally, Beauty is haunted by her own insecurities; her sojourn with the Beast is as much about learning to see the beauty in herself as it is about seeing it in him. McKinley shows Beauty’s perception gradually expanding in intriguing ways as she finds herself reading and even comprehending books that won’t be written for centuries and hearing snatches of conversations between the no-nonsense invisible servants who attend to her every need.

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast remains my favorite version of this story to date, in part because Belle and the Beast fall in love simultaneously. Here, the Beast asks her to marry him as soon as they meet. I get the sense that he’d been watching her for a while from afar and orchestrated the incident with her father to get her there, which reminds me uneasily of the vile Gaston’s manipulative tactics in the movie. And if he didn’t, then his love at first sight smacks of desperation because he knows the love of a woman can break the spell that holds him in his current form. Nonetheless, he grows as a character too, and as his regard deepens from a possessive fervor to genuine love, the landscape begins to change accordingly. As friendship gradually blooms, birds and blossoms reflect the alterations occurring within the castle’s primary occupants.

Beauty is a lovely novel with a fairy tale flavor that nonetheless feels steeped in realism, particularly in the scenes away from the castle. My friend Beth, who recommended this to me, mentioned that McKinley has written another retelling of this “tale as old as time,” and I would be interested to see how she approaches it from a different angle. In this case, I would say that the novel she crafted certainly lives up to its name.

Number 3000: 1001 Tales to Warm Your Mind

Late last year, I realized that I was creeping up on my 3000th post here on Epinions. Because the vast majority of my Epinions writing has been story-related, whether it’s media reviews or media-inspired poetic ramblings, I thought a fitting way to mark that milestone would be with a review of 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up, a guide to some of the greatest kids’ books ever published. Moreover, I would sail on a sea of stories until I reached 3000 by hosting a write-off; hopefully it would motivate me to reach my goal by my 30th birthday and introduce me to some terrific tales in the process.

My Tales to Warm Your Mind Write-Off did motivate me, but instead of writing faster, I seemed to slow down, attempting instead to both write and read more deeply. As my three-month-long write-off stretched into six, I felt a more profound sense of community with some of my fellow members and allowed some of their stories to seep into my soul. My little write-off turned into a far more rewarding experience than I expected, so I certainly don’t mind that I missed my birthday by three months. Instead, I’m happy to be able to share a milestone day with my dear cyber-sister Beth, who celebrates eight years on Epinions today and can attest to the power of stories to bring people together.

1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up is an impressive but not unwieldy collection of suggestions for the avid reader and the parent of the avid reader. Each featured book has between half a page and two pages to itself, often with an illustration or two. Julia Eccleshare is listed as the general editor, and she is the one responsible for the Introduction, which comments on the children's book as a work of art and as the realm of fiction to which story is most central. She talks about the different considerations that went into compiling this list and notes how the book's format invites contemplation of the changes in style and substance that can be charted over the years. The book descriptions to be found in the 900+ pages to follow come courtesy of more than a hundred different writers, many of whom have published children's books themselves.

Aside from the preface (a charming reflection by illustrator Quentin Blake, best known for his collaborations with Roald Dahl), introduction, indexes and contributor bios, the book is divided into five sections, each of which includes a small color-coded half-circle on a designated spot on the side of the page. This makes it very easy to glance at the book and open to the desired section: red for ages 0-3, orange for 3+, yellow for 5+, green for 8+ and blue for 12+. Within each section, the books are listed in chronological order, which also makes finding things quite a bit easier. If you want to see if a particular book is included, you can consult the index of titles at the beginning of the book; the index of authors at the end is equally handy.

Each entry includes the title in large bold print, followed by the year of publication in smaller print. Below that is the name of the author, indicated by a tiny pen icon, and, if applicable, the illustrator, indicated by a tiny pencil. Below that is a small section whose contents include such info as Original Title, Nationality, Theme, Publisher and Awards. In many cases, the cover of the featured book is included; sometimes an inside illustration is chosen, and some descriptions are accompanied by a pertinent quote. Many of the pages also include a small box the same color as that section's tab listing related books. These may be suggested by virtue of having the same author or similar components. For instance, Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island has a pull-out box listing “Other Great Stories of the Sea,” and Salman Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories suggests “More Fabulous Folklore”.

The main feature, however, is the book description, which is usually three or four paragraphs in length. Most of the contributors review several books and are identified by their initials at the end of the entry, but about a quarter of the writers are set apart, each reviewing just one book of particular personal significance. In these cases, a small gray tab at the top indicates who the featured reviewer is. These are especially interesting entries, since they delve into the reviewer's personal experience, whereas most books receive a more detached treatment. I love Judy Blume's reflections on Ludwig Bemelmans' Madeline, which she adored so deeply as a girl that she hid the copy she had taken out of the library, not wanting to be parted with it. “Some books you never forget,” she says. “Some characters become your friends for life.” This is most assuredly true.

Other authors with reviews of this nature include beloved author-illustrator Eric Carle, most famous for The Very Hungry Caterpillar; Newbery-winning author Jean Craighead George, whose love of nature permeates her work; and Newbery-winning Lois Lowry, whose works offer compelling commentary on the human condition. While these are wonderfully illuminating, especially for fans of that particular author, each entry in the book is well-crafted. Some of them are mostly plot summaries. Others focus upon the unusual characteristics of the illustrations or the way in which certain characters have permeated popular culture. Most entries include some mix of elements, discussing the content of the book, the historical context and the public reaction.

One thing that surprised me about this volume was how many of the books were originally written in a language other than English. This gives the book a very international flavor, and while some recommendations, like Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking and Johanna Spyri's Heidi's Wandering and Learning Years, reside on my bookshelf, I confess that the book highlights many books and authors that are entirely unfamiliar to me. Unfortunately, I have found that translated versions of most of these foreign-language books are difficult to track down, especially the ones for younger readers.

One interesting aspect of this book, which Eccleshare touches on in her introduction, is the way in which its demonstrates how the definition of what constitutes children's literature has changed over the years. Many of the books here, particularly those written prior to the 20th century, were not originally written specifically for children, but they have come to be thought of primarily as children's literature, or at least as appropriate for children as older readers. Examples of this include Aesop's Fables, the oldest entry in the collection; Johann Wyss's The Swiss Family Robinson; Alexandre Dumas's The Three Musketeers and Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. I was a little surprised at some of the books that were designated as children's lit, particularly in the 12+ section; then again, many of these books are staples of high school reading, so they certainly are appropriate for teenagers even if they were written with more of an adult audience in mind.

The smallest section by far is the 0-3 category, which is only about 40 pages long. Selections in this section include Make Way for Ducklings, the Robert McCloskey classic that inspired a whimsical series of statues that I had the pleasure of seeing up-close in Boston, and that perpetually popular tale of encouragement, Watty Piper's The Little Engine That Could. Among the books I sought out as a result of this section are Pat Hutchins' Rosie's Walk, a funny retro tale about an oblivious chicken who unwittingly thwarts a hungry fox, and David McKee's Elmer, a charming story about a multi-colored elephant.

The 3+ section is considerably longer at nearly 120 pages. Here's where we start to meet some of my really formative characters, like Winnie-the-Pooh - though I'll confess I first met the Silly Old Bear through Disney and didn't become well acquainted with the Milne version until years later – and, while we're on the subject of bears, Paddington and the Berenstain Bears. This is also the place to look for the works of childhood staple Dr. Seuss and the brilliantly minimalist Mo Willems. Speaking of minimalism, I have this section to thank for my discovery of Leo Lionni's touching Little Blue and Little Yellow, as well as the urban sprawl saga of Virginia Lee Burton's The Little House.

The 5+ section is longer still at about 200 pages, and some truly wondrous picture books grace this portion of the collection. However, because this is a slightly older age bracket, this is where we start to see chapter books, as well as poetry collections by Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky. Some of the giants of Easy Readerdom are here, including Cynthia Rylant and Arnold Lobel. While I would recommend the irresistible Mr. Putter and Tabby over Henry and Mudge, the latter is probably Rylant's most popular series, so I understand its inclusion. I also agree wholeheartedly with Frog and Toad as Lobel's ideal representatives. Few fictional friendships have amused or moved me more. Irrepressible Ramona Quimby, to whom I'm afraid I related quite a bit as a rambunctious young'un, makes an appearance here too. Meanwhile, this section led me to David Shannon's A Bad Case of Stripes and Jen Wojtowicz's The Boy Who Grew Flowers, both of which deal with the struggles inherent in standing out from the crowd in a classroom setting.

The largest section in the book is the 8+ group, which stretches for more than 400 pages. This is where you will find J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, the first novel that was ever read to me and the one that furnished my quote to live by: “You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all!” It's the home of L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, the book whose eloquent heroine I adored as long as she wasn't wrongly reaming out her admiring classmate Gilbert. This book introduced me to the gentle Matthew Cuthbert, the literary character who reminds me most of my late grandpa, and it taught me the term “kindred spirit,” which instantly joined my lexicon as a phrase to denote a cherished friend whose tastes and temperament are remarkably similar to one's own. Then, of course, there is J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter series, which took me through college and beyond and solidified several friendships. Moreover, up to that point, the publication of the final volume was perhaps the most significant pop cultural milestone of my life. The Chronicles of Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Bridge to Terabithia, Where the Red Fern Grows and many other novels that riveted me all make the cut here, and many of the books in this section are ones that plenty of adults have read for pleasure on their own.

I'm a little surprised that the 12+ section isn't even longer, since this is essentially the Young Adult portion and so many of the books here are really just adult novels. However, it does seem that as a separate division, the young adult designation is a rather recent phenomenon, so while we're getting plenty of adult crossover, there aren't a lot of books that started out in this niche. Those that do include Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series and Louis Sachar's Holes. Considering its length, I didn't expect to find Tolkien's Lord of the Rings listed, but it's here, though the description rather makes me suspect that whoever was assigned this epic never actually read it. (Frodo is described as an “unwilling hero” who saves Middle-earth “by first gaining and then safely returning the magical ring, which makes its bearer all-powerful, to its true home deep in the mountains.” (Ah, yes, that cozy reunion between Sauron and his beloved ring. And oh, the lengths that stubborn scallywag Frodo had to go to in order to gain this treasure in the first place!)

Out of curiosity, before I sat down to write this review, I went through the book and jotted down all of the titles that I had read. Rather to my disgruntlement, it was only one-fifth of the 1001 titles. I still have a lot of catching up to do! Of course, even with all those books, any avid reader will no doubt be able to point out omissions of their own favorites. For instance, the prolific Mercer Mayer, best known for his expansive line of Little Critter books, doesn't show up at all, nor does author-illustrator Jan Brett, notable for her richly artistic folktales with detailed borders around each page. As someone who has happily gobbled up the first 15 books in the Trixie Belden series since January, I'm miffed that while Nancy Drew merits a mention, the Bob-Whites of the Glen do not. However, a majority of the authors whose work I've enjoyed show up somewhere in the book, and if you're stumped for new things to read, this collection can offer some excellent recommendations.

Beloved books come to us in all sorts of different ways, from catching our eye on the shelf of a bookstore or library to being praised by a respected friend. This collection is yet another avenue. If you are looking for some interesting new books for the children in your life, you're sure to find some sterling stories if you peruse the pages of 1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up. But bear in mind that these books are not exclusively for children. To quote C. S. Lewis, “When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” For readers of all ages who are not embarrassed to get swept away by a powerful story, this guide is a treasure trove.

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I joined Epinions back in January of 2000 while searching for a place to write book reviews online. I was looking for a creative outlet and a bit of cash, and I found both. I wrote eagerly in the beginning, but most of my efforts were rather hurried and haphazard. It took a year or two before I really got the knack of reviewing, and it's a continuing learning process. Gradually coming out of my shell and interacting more with other members beyond just posting my reviews has made Epinions that much more rewarding and motivated me to write more often and more artfully. I've read the work of dozens of talented reviewers and traded comments with many of them; I can't begin to list them all here, but a few members merit a special mention...

Sleeper54 – Thank you, Tom, for all of your considerate comments and emails over the years. The niggles have improved plenty of reviews, and the compliments are deeply appreciated.

Jedikermit – Thank you, Quinn, for being my go-to person for all things Muppet.

Dragonfire88 – Thank you, Marie, for so many great geeky comment exchanges.

GaelKM – Thank you, Gael, for basking with me in the love of all things Irish.

Mql1208 – Thank you, Megan, for your invigorating thoughts on some of my favorite off-beat movies.

Popsrocks – Thank you, Phil, for your omnipresent optimism even in the most challenging circumstances.

Talyseon – Thank you, Mark, for pouring such passion into everything you undertake.

Toiletoctopus – Thank you, Mike, for your inspiring example of how to carry on a loved one's legacy.

Texas-Swede – Thank you, Thomas, fellow Swedish American, for your consistent courtesy and enthusiasm.

Bethesdalily – Thank you, Nicole, for the sense of joy and serenity that envelops me when I read your reviews and comments. With the eyes of your soul, you see the world more clearly than most people I know.

Imagine_Stars – Thank you, Shar, for the feast of words I've come to expect whenever I read your reviews. You write with such conviction and humor, and your comments are among the most thoughtful I've ever received.

Carstairs38 – Thank you, Mark, for just being you. You are a true kindred spirit whose warmth and wit have brightened many a day, and my life is so much richer because I know you.

Befus - Thank you, Beth, for being the best "big sis" a gal could ask for. You bring out the best in me as a writer and a person, and I feel blessed to call you my friend.

Since this review signals the conclusion of my Tales to Warm Your Mind Write-Off, I would also like to take a moment to thank everyone who participated, especially Mark and Thomas, who contributed so prolifically. I am also grateful to the Category Leads, especially Book Leads Dramastef and Pestyside, for being so helpful in adding titles. And since I am, to the best of my knowledge, the fourth person to reach 3000 posts on Epinions, I also have to thank Freak369, Bryan_Carey and Wlswarts for proving to me that it could be done.

Like many people across the country, I have spent the past several months bombarded with billboards announcing that the world will end today. Clearly, I didn't buy it, or I wouldn't be urging you to add several hundred books to your must-read list. So instead, I celebrate an ending of a different kind, concluding my write-off with the thought of how many wonderful stories lie in store for me and the hope that I might write a tale or two to warm someone else's mind. In the words of the enchanting Pushing Daisies, “Endings, as it is known, are where we begin.” Onward to 4000!

My 14 Favorite Movie Kisses (Plus a Couple From TV)

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that compelled me to watch a sappy movie or two. Then I came here to Epinions, and I revisited a list that my good friend Beth compiled of her favorite movie kisses. When she first published it, I said I’d have to compose a similar list soon, but I never did, so I’m doing it now. Of course, I’m terrible at coming up with lists like this because every time I think I’ve got it figured out, I think of another movie or ten that I need to add to the list. But here, in chronological order, is my not-at-all definitive list of 14 favorite movie kisses – a couple of which aren’t technically kisses, but feel like them – followed by my favorite miniseries kiss and TV series kiss.

"Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes on this lovely belle notte." - Lady and the Tramp (1955)

The spaghetti kiss.  Accidental, and only lasting seconds, but incredibly sweet.  Sheltered, elegant Lady and rough-and-tumble Tramp are enjoying a night out on the town, and for my money, this may be the most romantic dinner scene in movie history.  The fact that they are dogs makes it all the more romantic, especially when Tramp nudges the last meatball her way.  Anybody with a dog could tell you what a remarkable gesture this is...



“You can’t… marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.” - The Sound of Music (1965)

When I think of impactful movie kisses, this one almost always comes to mind first. The Sound of Music is such a perfect movie, with the romantic tension between Captain Von Trapp and Maria stretched out just enough to make us really cheer for the moment when they finally confess their love for each other. The scene is just so beautifully done, especially that instant when the eyes get all misty and the oh-so-composed captain reveals the extent of his vulnerability. And though the two are truly alone together for one of the first times in the movie, within that first blissful kiss are wrapped up a love of the Captain’s children, of the nuns who are Maria’s family and of the God who guides them both. Just beautiful.



“Look to me, reaching out to show as sure as rivers flow, I’ll never let you go…” - Pete’s Dragon (1977)

Up until a couple months ago, if you were to ask me to name my favorite Disney love song, I would, without reservation, say Candle on the Water from Pete’s Dragon, even though we don’t meet the object of Nora’s affections until the end of the movie, even though it’s not the film’s main focus. Ever since Tangled, it ties with I See the Light, a song of romantic awakening – and I can’t help finding it funny that my two favorite Disney love songs both use light on the water as the central metaphor. But Candle on the Water is all about steadfast devotion, about keeping the faith against all odds. Nora does, and when her faith is finally rewarded, what an embrace awaits!



“When he comes back, I won’t get in the way.” “Oh, Han, it isn’t like that at all. He’s my brother.” - The Return of the Jedi (1983)

When they first met, roguish Han Solo and haughty Leia Organa didn’t much like each other. By the second movie, they’d gained some respect for each other, but Han still had a major self-serving streak, and he had it coming when Leia called him a “stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerfherder” before kissing Luke. Leia and Luke don’t have the tumultuous kind of relationship she and Han do, and they share a deep psychic bond. Of course, early in the third movie, we learn that Luke and Leia are siblings, but poor Han, who is finally learning to live for someone other than himself, remains in the dark. While he’s fighting alongside Leia for Luke’s sake, he still views him as a romantic rival, and a clean-cut hero probably better suited to a princess. So the look on his face at the end of the trilogy when Leia laughs off his blessing to go with Luke, the slow shift from disappointment to confusion to blissful incredulity as she kisses him and reveals that Luke is her brother, is absolutely priceless.



“Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” – The Princess Bride (1987)

Well, the quote about says it all about Westley and Buttercup, doesn’t it? Here’s a couple who endured, among other things, presumed death, actual death, lengthy separation, quicksand, kidnapping, unusually sized rodents, torture and marriage to a pompous prince with a nose for iocaine powder. A couple whose love is so epic, so profound, that even a skeptical pre-adolescent boy doesn’t mind hearing about that one last kiss assuring that nothing will ever come between them again. After all, this is true love; you think this happens every day?



“It’s amazing, Molly, the love inside… You take it with you.” - Ghost (1990)

No, not the famous scene that my dad speculates caused enrollment in pottery classes to skyrocket. I’m talking about the final scene in the movie, when Sam has finally ensured Molly’s safety and is ready to move on. Suddenly, Molly can see with her own eyes what the eccentric Oda Mae has been telling her all along: that Sam is there. And finally they can speak one last time, without an intermediary. When Sam, engulfed in light, kisses the stunned Molly, it’s a moment at once joyful and melancholy, made inexpressibly more poignant by the celestial orchestral arrangement of Unchained Melody, one of my favorite pieces of movie music ever.



“Please don’t leave me. I love you!” – Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Who could ever learn to love a Beast? Belle, the noblest and deepest of the Disney princesses, could, and the extent of her regard for this man too long enslaved by his own selfishness carried the power to save a life and transform a kingdom. Granted, it’s a rather crummy stipulation that she must actually state the words; it was clear that she loved him when she left the castle to find her father. Was there ever any doubt that she would return once she had restored him to health? But then we wouldn’t have this climactic moment that so dramatically illustrates the power of love to bring light forth from darkness.



“It was the happiest moment of my life.” - Forrest Gump (1994)

Forrest and Jenny, bosom buddies since the age of five, do share kisses in the movie, but it’s this hug to end all hugs that best conveys the vastness of their regard for each other. As thousands of riled-up protesters look on, Jenny wades into the Reflecting Pool looking like Mary Travers and Forrest, sharp as a tack in his freshly decorated uniform, leaps into the crowd and does what he does best – runs. Right into the waiting arms of the woman for whom his love has never wavered, and never will. And the crowd goes wild. In that moment, this vagabond who’s already seen so much of the worst the world has to offer is genuinely as happy to see this man who has only ever shown her kindness as he is to see her. No kiss could trump the affection encapsulated in this moment.



“I come here with no expectation, only to declare, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.” - Sense and Sensibility (1995)

The kiss we didn’t see. When I read Sense and Sensibility, I was disappointed that we didn’t really get to see Edward and Elinor’s big moment first-hand. We spent most of the book leading up to it, and then it felt rather glossed over. Emma Thompson’s brilliant screenplay fixes that for us, and Hugh Grant is at his most adorable as he bumbles his way through his earnest declaration of love. It’s enough for us to see unflappable Elinor a mangled mess of laughter and sobs before the demure cutaway. But I am free to imagine the kiss that followed, and I imagine that it was a doozy.



“When was the last time you were decently kissed? I mean truly, truly, good and kissed?” - That Thing You Do! (1996)

I couldn’t leave Erie’s little claim to fame off the list, even if the lovebirds decide to remain in California instead of returning to these frosty shores. In this Tom Hanks-helmed charmer about a one-hit wonder band that starts out in Erie, fresh-faced 20-something Guy is a percussionist passionate about music. He’s also a deeply devoted friend to Faye, the neglected girlfriend of bandleader Jimmy. Throughout the film, he attends to her when Jimmy does not, and it’s obvious that he genuinely cares about her. After Jimmy takes his self-absorption one step too far, the band falls apart and Guy thinks the dream is over. But when he sees Faye sitting alone, preparing to return to her old life, he realizes that a new dream is just beginning.



“You saw me when I was invisible.” – The Princess Diaries (2001)

Ah, the foot-popping kiss. It’s such a Disney sort of moment, with the princess and her true love locking lips for the first time. In this instance, it isn’t quite the first kiss for Mia, who only recently was a gangly geek used to getting stomped on by nearly everyone in school, but it’s the first one that means something. Like Mia, I’ve always imagined my first kiss being something magical, with the orchestra in my heart, to borrow a term from Pushing Daisies, playing at full volume. But whatever the circumstances, I would want to share it with someone who, like Mia’s sweet admirer here, appreciates me for who I am, with all my kooky quirks.



“But I don’t understand. I was supposed to be beautiful.” “You are beautiful.” – Shrek (2001)

As much as I love Beauty and the Beast, I also love the scene in Shrek in which Fiona does not transform. Shrek already looks like a beast, and by night, Fiona does too. But the ogre is her true form, and she does not need the conventional beauty afforded her by the human princess body in order for Shrek to deem her beautiful. It’s really a lovely subversion of a fairy tale I adore that ultimately makes the same point: that true beauty is more than just skin deep.



“You wanna know a secret? … You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known.” - 13 Going on 30 (2004)

I saw this movie for the first time in October of 2005, when I was coming off a very depressing period and moving into a very fruitful one. Maybe it was partly my giddy state of mind at the time, but this movie threw me for a loop. I expected a light little romcom, but it took hold of me completely, touching me far more profoundly than I would have expected. “Well,” I thought, “that’s what love is all about.” It’s a shame that the movie’s most memorable kiss occurs when Matt, the childhood chum of Jennifer Garner’s teen-in-adult-skin Jenna, is engaged, but these two feel so right together that I can’t deny them that perfect moment, after which, she tells her teenage confidantes at a slumber party soon afterward, she “floated home on a cloud”. All I can do is long for the clock to reset so that Jenna can reclaim those lost years and treat the best friend she ever had with the respect and love he so richly deserves.



“Other lights may light my way; I may even find romance. But I won't forget that night when you taught me how to dance.” - Miss Potter (2006)

I’d half-forgotten this moment until Beth mentioned it on her list, but there’s something so incredibly sweet about the awkward, gradual courtship between confirmed spinster Beatrix and her starry-eyed young publisher Norman. It’s such a wonderfully touching love story, tragically cut short. If this movie is any indication – and given the restrictions that surrounded Beatrix under the care of her stuffy parents, it wouldn’t surprise me much – the two shared just one kiss, at once chaste and passionate, before they were torn apart for what was meant to be merely a brief separation. Wrenching.

*

”I don’t want diamond sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you.” - Anne of Avonlea (1987)

When I think of Gilbert Blythe, the first word that comes to mind is “patient”. In Kevin Sullivan’s brilliant pair of miniseries (we won’t go into the two that followed), it takes all of Anne of Green Gables just to get Anne to fully forgive him for the egregious offense of teasing her about her hair way back when they first met. He bends over backwards to try to win her friendship, and she stubbornly brushes him aside. In Anne of Avonlea, they’re friends, but Anne has her ideals of romance, and boy-next-door Gilbert doesn’t fit them. His proposal horrifies her – and her refusal horrifies just about every gal watching at home. It takes an extended separation, a proposal from a man who fits her dream profile and Gilbert’s near-death from illness to make Anne finally appreciate what she should have had all along. The kiss is understated; the catharsis isn’t.

*

“I love you, Penny… and I’ll never leave you again.” - There’s No Place Like Home, Part 3, LOST (2008)

And speaking of unions a long time in coming, I had to mention the epic romance that swept so many LOST fans off their feet. The season two finale of the trippy, emotional island drama introduced viewers to Penelope Widmore, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and the one true love of Desmond Hume, the Scotsman stranded on the Island for three years. Throughout the third and fourth seasons, we saw the trials they weathered and the lengths to which both were willing to go to finally reunite. Their first contact, by phone, after years apart remains one of the most brilliantly written and acted scenes in the series. In fact, I still rank it as my favorite Desmond and Penny moment. But when they finally physically reunite in the season four finale after two long seasons of build-up, the ecstasy in that reunion lip-lock may just be enough to nudge Westley and Buttercup from their exalted position.

So, there you have it: a collection of my favorite cinematic kisses, to which many could no doubt be added. What are some of yours?

Jane Austen Helps Bring the Mother-Daughter Book Club Series to a Fantastic Finish

In the past few years, I find that I have turned into something of a Jane Austen enthusiast. I suppose I won’t be able to call myself a full-blown Janeite until I’ve read the rest of her novels, but I’m a third of the way there, anyway. My first immersion began during college, when Sense and Sensibility, despite getting off to a slow start for me, wound up being just what I needed to snap me out of my post-9/11 paralysis. This book, so beloved by the lit professor who sparked such energetic discussions, helped my focus to return to all that is good in the world: things like sisterhood, friendship, long letters, lush landscapes and, of course, true love. Several years later, my bestest book buddy Beth prevailed upon me to read Pride and Prejudice, so I did, and I loved it as much as she assured me I would. I have a hard time deciding which of the novels I prefer; S&S is quieter, while P&P is amusingly chaotic. But the latter is definitely the right choice for inclusion in the Mother-Daughter Book Club series.

This charming intermediate series that I discovered a couple months ago encompasses four novels. Each book is broken up into four seasons, with each of four girls narrating one chapter every season. As far as I know, there will be no others; Heather Vogel Frederick certainly wraps things up in a way that feels like a conclusion to the series, and it syncs up nicely with the fact that there are four narrators. Of course, if she were to publish another installment, I would snatch it right up. Pies and Prejudice finds the girls in their first year of high school, and all of them must adjust to big changes in their lives as threads that got their start as far back as the first book finally find resolution.

The main players, as before, are Emma Hawthorne, Jess Delaney, Cassidy Sloane and Megan Wong, along with nicer-than-before-but-still-snotty Becca Chadwick. Together with their quirky moms and a couple of elderly honorary members, they continue to find pleasure in reading classic literature and discussing it over snacks (prepared, hopefully, by Cassidy’s cooking show host mom and not Megan’s health nut mom). Pride and Prejudice is a novel that had been mentioned previously as a book that the girls weren’t quite ready to tackle, but this year, it’s too perfect to pass up. That’s because Emma, the bookworm of the bunch and the one who reminds me most of myself, is about to have all her Anglophile dreams come true with a year-long move to Bath, England (incidentally, one of my favorite stops when I was in England myself). While she and her librarian mother, who have already read Austen backward and forward anyway, drink in all of the Austen culture they can, the other four girls become acquainted with her classic characters, and as in previous books, certain aspects of her novel seem to resonate particularly well with their lives.

Emma’s living the dream in England, but her life is complicated by yet another in the series’ string of Mean Girls. Annabelle doesn’t actually show up in the book that much, but she wreaks major havoc when she does. Meanwhile, although Skype makes connecting with her friends easier and even allows her and her mom to participate in book club meetings, Emma misses her boyfriend Stewart, a sensitive fellow bookworm who seems to understand her better than anyone she knows – and with whom she shared her very first kiss before leaving for Bath. Annoyingly, England also provides Emma with her own version of stiff, awkward Mr. Collins, and though she generally puts up with him, his unwelcome advances cause some problems for her.

Jess is having a much better time of it this year than last. Now in her second year at a nearby exclusive girls’ boarding school, she’s rooming with kindred spirits and no longer feels antagonized by her former roommate. She discovers an interest in wild animal rehabilitation, and she spearheads an effort to raise money to bring Emma home for spring break after it becomes apparent how unpleasant Annabelle is making her life. She’s really coming into her own, though she still has to deal with some insecurity when it comes to figuring out what she wants to do with her life and trying to work out whether there’s any chance that her long-time and now long-distance crush, Emma’s gregarious brother Darcy, might see her as something more than his kid sister’s best friend.

Megan feels like a fish out of water in high school, especially with Becca’s clique dissolved and neither Emma nor Jess around to latch onto. Even though she’s managed to make a name for herself as a young fashion designer, she feels totally out of place in this new environment, which leads her to take on a new role: that of fashion blogger. Make that anonymous fashion blogger. Taking her cues from Austen’s penchant for searing social commentary, she snaps photos of “fashion faux pas” that she sees around school and posts them with snarky captions for the world to see. This is the storyline that made me squirm the most, since it was obvious that she would eventually be found out and have to face some unpleasant consequences as a result.

Megan is one of two book club members to get pretty chummy with one of the English lads whose parents swap houses with Emma’s, and it’s fairly apparent that Simon, the younger of the two, is supposed to remind readers of affable Mr. Bingley. Megan, however, behaves in a manner not representative of empathetic Jane Bennet at all, and after three books’ worth of moral development on her part, it’s disappointing to see her lapsing into this person who sits around making snide comments about everybody’s fashion choices. Nonetheless, she is otherwise likable here, and her close relationship with her grandmother continues to flourish, especially once the latter volunteers to supervise the girls’ efforts to raise the money for Emma’s ticket by baking and selling pies – hence, the title of the book.

We get our biggest nod to Pride and Prejudice with Cassidy, the tomboyish hockey player who, unlike her fellow book club members, has never had a crush on anyone and thinks the whole romance thing is nothing but a nuisance. She’s generally popular with her male peers, who pretty much see her as one of the guys, but any hint of mushy stuff and she wants to gag. Her gag reflex is strongest in reaction to Simon’s older brother Tristan, an arrogant ice skater with whom she is horrified to find herself in frequent close contact, as he needs a partner to practice with for a competition at the school year’s end. She agrees to this only because their teacher, former Olympian and current book club member Eva Bergson, has so enthusiastically agreed to help Cassidy set up a hockey club for young girls and praised Cassidy’s coaching skills. She can’t bear to say no to someone who has been so encouraging to her, but Tristan has been nothing but a thorn in her side since he arrived. Elizabeth-Darcy echoes abound here, and it’s fun to imagine just how Frederick will manage to pull off the inevitable wearing down of Cassidy’s negative first impression. Along with this, we see her gradually becoming used to her sister being away at college and to being a big sister herself, and it’s sweet to see her relationship with her lovable stepfather Stanley, which got off to such a rocky start, truly flourish here.

A lot happens in this fourth novel that, more than the others, is fairly dependent upon having read other books in order to get a full appreciation of the story and the directions in which it takes certain characters. Although the books are somewhat formulaic and fairly predictable to those who have read the novels at the heart of each volume, Frederick tossed in some twists here that truly surprised me, and my emotional investment at this point in the series was such that one of them actually made me cry, a true rarity for the girl with the frustratingly robotic tear ducts. As someone who no doubt would have been considered a spinster in Austen’s day, I have to chuckle a bit at how neatly Frederick pairs up all of these teens, most of whom are not yet sixteen. To be fair, though, Emma herself, who narrates the last chapter, notes that none of them can tell what the future can bring, and three of the five couples, while appealing, seem as likely as not to be involved in heady first romances that are merely remembered fondly years later. Two couples do seem destined for the altar a few years down the line, but there’s so much build-up with them that I would have felt cheated if Vogel hadn’t left us with some degree of assurance there. The way in which she manages it is understated but exhilarating nonetheless.

I would encourage any Austen fan, young or old, to read this book, but I would also caution patience. Don’t just pick up the one with all the Austen echoes. Start off with the first book and work your way to the grand finale. It’ll take a little bit of a time investment, but it’s well worth it to follow these girls from the beginning. If you’re already the sort of reader who finds Austen appealing, chances are that you will fall in love with this series as whole-heartedly as I did.

"Truly Blessed and Duly Grateful" - Bethesdalily's Gratitude Write-Off

I'm breaking in my brand-new laptop with a list of things I'm thankful for, as encouraged by Bethesdalily, whose write-off has caused bursts of blessings to blossom throughout Epinions like bright November flowers. It seems like a sure way to get this new piece of equipment off to a good start. I hope it lasts me as long as the first one, which I received for my 25th birthday, did. While I hated to retire that one, I can't help being grateful for the timing, as it finally went kaput just before Black Friday, allowing me to get the replacement at the most affordable time of the year. I'm grateful, too, that I had enough in the bank to cover it. But then, I have a lot to be grateful for, as I do every year. Big fan of quotes that I am, I thought it might be fun to compile a few gratitude quotes and use them as a jumping-off point for this very worthwhile exercise. So here we go...

“A thankful heart is a happy heart. I'm glad for what I have; that's an easy way to start.” Isn't it, though? This is a line from the VeggieTales video Madame Blueberry, the main song of which is a litany of gratitude concluding with, “That's why I say thanks every day.” I don't always remember to do that, but I should. I have friends who make it a point to regularly compile lists of things for which they're thankful, and it always brightens my day to read them and also to realize that I could list a lot of those same things. When things aren't going so well, give it a whirl, and I bet it will make you feel better. No matter how bad things get, there's always something to be grateful for.

“I guess I was raised never to question my blessings.” This is a line from Rose, the sage woman who is one of my favorite characters on LOST. I wish the show had used her more often; an extra dose of her serenity could have gone a long way in all that frenzy. Rose is all about acceptance. When life throws bad things her way, she bears it gracefully. And when something good comes along, she views it as a gift. Everything is a blessing or, at worst, a trial to be weathered with the help of those things and people that are blessings. It's a good way to look at life. And let me just take this opportunity to say that no 2010 gratitude reflection from me would be complete without mentioning LOST, a show that has provided me with so much intellectual and spiritual stimulation, that has deepened several friendships, that sparked the most intense creative period of my life and that gave me so many wonderful characters to fall in love with. LOST lost this fangirl money, but everything I gained far made up for the dent in my wallet.

“Thank you for this precious day, these gifts you give to me. My heart, so full of love for you, sings praise for all I see.” Isn't that a beautiful thought? It's from one of John Denver's loveliest songs, Falling Leaves, which uses this expansive gratitude as a jumping-off point for supplication on behalf of others. It's a song that discusses how wonderful the world can be but then acknowledges how many people in the world are disenfranchised. It makes me think of those St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials: “Give thanks, and give...” If you truly have a grateful spirit, a natural outgrowth of that is to want to extend your blessings to those who could use a hand.

“Pick your diamond, pick your pearl, 'cause there is beauty in the world.” I just came upon this Macy Gray song within the last couple of months, as it's one that's in the regular rotation on the mall radio. Every time it comes on the air, I can't help grinning from ear to ear. It's just so life-affirming. I hear a lot about how much awful stuff is going on in the world today, and it just becomes very exhausting and dispiriting. This is a song that exuberantly encourages us to instead focus on the all that is right with the world. Each of us sees beauty in different things, but I think that everyone who takes the time to really look around can find something of beauty capable of brightening up the grayest day.

“For making me welcome, thank you.” This is the last line in the chorus of The Tinker, a gorgeous song by John Reynolds of the Irish Rovers. The speaker wanders from place to place, seeking shelter with strangers, and he always manages to find it. The kindness of others sustains him. It sustains all of us. We may not spend our lives as vagabonds, but how many times has your day been improved by a kind word or gesture from someone you randomly encounter? It happens to me all the time, and I hope that I've been on the other end of it, too. As a cashier at the mall, I try my best to treat every person I encounter with respect and friendliness. Sometimes folks just need someone to vent to, and I'm glad to be that person too. Any little thing I can do to make somebody's day a bit better, I try to do it; I know what a difference it makes when I'm on the receiving end, as I often am. You don't have to take someone into your home to be hospitable; just take them into your heart for a minute or two, and it can really have an impact.

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other.” This quote, from the first Harry Potter book, just makes me smile, and it's a great one for expressing the pleasure I've found in kindred spirits. When I was growing up, I often felt like an oddball. Epinions was one of the first sites I found after I really began immersing myself in the Internet, and I discovered that there are actually a lot of people out there who love the same things I do. This quote refers to a particularly powerful bonding experience, but I find that equally powerful is compatibility. As C. S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'” I'm grateful to Epinions for introducing me to friends with whom I share something important, whether that's a beloved book, a favorite style of music, an engrossing TV show, an entertaining movie... You get the idea. I'm glad Epinions has given me a platform to write about these things and has introduced me to wonderful friends who understand just where I'm coming from.

“I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough, and Papa, I don't think I've said 'I love you' near enough.” The late great Dan Fogelberg honored his father with Leader of the Band, one of my favorite songs ever and an exercise in gratitude if I ever heard one. Like him, I'm lucky enough to have wonderful parents, and I'm sure I don't tell them that often enough. As Abraham Lincoln said, “Everything I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” I can't imagine better parents than the ones I have. I owe them everything.

“Thank you for being a friend.” The Golden Girls has one of the best theme songs ever, and I'm happy to repeat it here. I have some pretty fantastic friends. Some have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember; some came along much later. Some of them I've never even met. If you got all of them together in one room, you'd have an eclectic mix indeed, but all of them have contributed greatly to my happiness. I'm grateful for Facebook, too, for helping me to keep in contact with many of them.

“I've got a hand holding my hand. It's not a hand you can see...” This is part of John Bucchino's Grateful, recorded by Art Garfunkel for his Across America concert in the 1990s. It's a beautiful song for Thanksgiving and the whole year, and I especially love this verse. It reminds me of several things. Footprints in the Sand. God's constant presence. Thestrals. J. K. Rowling's marvelous invention of creatures who perform an important service and can only be seen by those who have witnessed death. Harry initially sees them as grotesque, but they eventually serve as a reassurance that, as Dumbledore once told him, those who we've loved and lost never truly leave us. And Pushing Daisies. Ned and Charlotte love each other but can never touch. One of the many ways they come up with to cope is to hold their own hands at the same time, pretending they are holding each other's. A very sweet image for the ways that people separated by physical distance can stay connected.

“You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you, but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” My all-time favorite quote, it reminds me that I should be open to amazing things happening and willing to help them come about, but I should approach them with an attitude of humility. I should be grateful for being a part of them instead of just figuring they happened because I myself did something remarkable to bring them about. I hope I'm a fine person, but I'll never forget that I am quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all. And, as Bilbo acknowledged, “Thank goodness.”

Join Me As I Celebrate 10 Years on Epinions With the Irish Rovers

When I realized that I was coming up fast on my tenth anniversary here at Epinions, I pondered how I wanted to recognize it. Almost at once, the words to one of my favorite Irish Rovers songs popped into my head. When I recalled that Years May Come, Years May Go was the title track to one of the Rovers’ albums, I decided that would be a fitting choice. The Irish Rovers claim a secure spot in my top five list of all-time favorite bands. They’re the reason I came to love Irish music from such a young age. I’ve seen them in concert three times and own most of their albums. This one is a compilation album that features Will, George and Joe Millar, Jimmy Ferguson and Wilcil McDowell, though Joe is missing from the cover shot. While my favorite of their albums is Tales to Warm Your Mind, with the latter-day Come Fill Up Your Glasses coming in a close second, this is still a great album that is representative of some of the Irish Rovers’ best work.

The Unicorn - Will, the loquacious tenor, takes the lead on this Shel Silverstein-penned ballad, arguably the most famous Irish Rovers song of all. The intricate finger-picking and wistful harmonica enhance the fairy-tale feel of this song. Will tenderly recounts this fictional account of Noah’s failed attempt to get a pair of unicorns on the ark, while the rest of the guys join in on the chorus, the point at which things tend to get a bit rowdy in concert. “There was green alligators and long-necked geese, / some humpty-backed camels and some chimpanzees, / some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you’re born, / the loveliest of all was the unicorn...”

Lily the Pink - A wild and raucous tribute to Lily the Pink, a nickname for Lydia Pinkham, inventor of a concoction meant to relieve women of certain monthly ailments. (One of the original ingredients, appropriately enough, was unicorn root.) I never knew this until my mom discovered some of the stuff at a friend’s house and found out that our friend is actually a relative of this woman who peddled her wares in the late 1800s. There are many different versions of this song out there; the Rovers’ is one of the cleanest, and it makes her “medicinal compound” into a sort of all-purpose wonder drug. Nonetheless, the song is a riot, from the march-like percussion in the background to the specific instrumentation that accentuates the issue at hand in each of the verses. Each member of the group takes a verse or two, altering his voice accordingly, whether that involves stuttering or sounding like an opera singer. One of the busiest and just plain funniest songs in the Rovers catalog. “We’ll drink-a-drink-a-drink / to Lily the Pink-the-Pink-the-Pink / the savior of the human race. / She invented medicinal compounds, / most efficacious in every case.”

Whiskey on a Sunday - Will has the lead on this song again, a ballad about Seth Davy, a poor old man who entertains marvelously with a trio of puppets and pines away for his weekly indulgence. The group takes the chorus and enhances the verses with the occasional peppy “bop bop bop ba,” while the mandolin provides a hint of the song’s rather sad ending. The final verse takes it into Molly Malone territory, with Will asserting that “some stormy night when you're passing that way / And the wind's blowing up from the sea / You'll still hear the song of old Seth Davy / As he croons to his dancing dolls three.”

Fifi O’Toole - Most of the songs on this album are ones that appear on several other Rovers albums, but this particular song seems a bit more obscure. At any rate, when I pulled out this album for the first time in several years, I didn’t even recognize this one. But it’s a charming song that seems to be an appeal to an old pal to get together. Jimmy gets the verses to himself (at least I think it‘s Jimmy; much to my chagrin, I have trouble telling him and Joe apart sometimes, and there‘s nothing in the way of liner notes on this album to help me out). Melodically, they remind me of the Beatles‘ Lady Madonna, but backed primarily by guitars instead of piano. But it’s the repetitive, rather country-western-flavored chorus upon which they all sing, to the accompaniment of pounding percussion, guitar, mandolin and a couple of instruments I can’t quite identify, that really sticks out. “Fifi O’Toole, where are you? / It’s been so long since we met. / I really think that friends like us should get together more often. / Ah, Fifi O’Toole, / How are you? / How are you? / How are you?”

Goodnight Irene - The mandolin is the most prominent accompaniment on this gentle song with words that sometimes sting. The lads switch off for the verses, taking the lullaby-like chorus together. Again, this is a tamer version of a song whose lyrics have sometimes bordered on the controversial. “Irene, goodnight Irene, / Irene, goodnight. / Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene, / I’ll see you in my dreams.”

Sam Hall - This is the other song on the album I’m not too familiar with, though the tune bears a striking resemblance to the hymn What Wondrous Love Is This. There’s certainly nothing hymnlike about the lyrics, however. This guitar-driven, harmonica-heavy song is the tragic Tom Dooley-ish tale of a chimney sweep headed to the gallows for robbery. Johnny Cash recorded a much more vitriolic version in which the man’s crime is murder. Will Millar always sings with a smile in his voice, so even a morose ballad like this has a certain tenderness to it; instead of lashing out against his captors, he gives the speaker a gentle tone of acceptance. The backing vocals that come in on the last verse seem to lend a bit of last-minute support when the moment of execution arrives. “Oh my name it is Sam Hall and I've robbed both great and small / And my neck will pay for all when I die, when I die...”

Life of the Rover - I don’t know this roving song as well as most of the Rovers’ other songs on this topic, but it’s a nice song with a wistful flavor to it. The lads switch off on the verses that bemoan the changing of the times. The melancholy harmonica is prominent once again in this elegy for the wandering life. “The old ways are passing and soon they’ll be gone / For progress is always a factor. / It’s sent to afflict us and when they evict us / They tow us away wi’ a tractor.”

Bonnie Kellswater - The mandolin ripples through this tender ode to the little town of Kellswater and lovely Martha, who lives there. As tributes to hometowns go, I prefer The Isle of Innisfree, which the Rovers also cover, and I’ve lately come to adore The Village That They Call the Moy, written and performed by Ryan Kelly of Celtic Thunder. But this is one of the Rovers’ prettiest songs, and something of a rarity among the slower ballads in that there is no element of tragedy attached. It‘s also the only song on the album that is sung solo throughout, by Joe. “Here’s a health unto ye, bonnie Kellswater, / For it’s there you’ll find the pleasures of life / And it’s there you’ll find the fishin’ and the farmin’ / And a bonnie wee girl for your wife.”

Liverpool Lou - Another love song enhanced by guitar and mandolin, this is an ode to a woman who is not as faithful as Martha. Will has the lead here, with the rest chiming in on the chorus. I would’ve switched these last two tracks to end the album on a less plaintive note, but it’s a good song nonetheless. “Liverpool Lou, lovely Liverpool Lou. / Why don’t you behave, love, as the other girls do? / Why must my poor heart keep following you? / Stay home and love me, my Liverpool Lou.”

Years May Come, Years May Go - This is the fourth track on the album, but I’m saving it for last since it‘s the title song and the reason I picked this album to commemorate my tenth anniversary on Epinions. It’s a lively but reflective tune with the terrific combo of ragtime piano, guitar and, on the chorus, what sounds to me like a xylophone. It reminds me a bit of When I’m 64; I can imagine it serving as a bookend, with the speaker in this one, having reached 64, now looking back. Meanwhile, the chorus, with its alternating sets of lyrics, reminds me of Help!. Will has the lead on this irrepressibly cheerful ode to the ups and downs of life, singing with a clearly optimistic bent. A very happy song, and a great way to reflect upon the passage of time. “Years may come (Many years are still ahead) / Years may go (Many years have passed) / Some go fast (They belong to yesterday) / Some go slow (Still the memories last) / Some are good (Couldn’t stop the laughter flowin’) / Some are bad (Couldn’t stop the tears) / For each one (Thank the Lord that we have lived) / Just be glad (Together through the years).”

I’m glad to have spent the last ten years pouring my heart out on Epinions, chronicling some of the ups and down of my own life. Some years I had a lot to say; I’m thinking particularly of 2008, during which I posted more than 800 reviews. Some years, not so much; I must have been really preoccupied with college in 2002, since I only posted 15. Boy, was I a slacker! I’ve “met” all sorts of wonderful people here - and literally met Befus, my Best Good Epi-buddy, on two very enjoyable occasions. I’ve ruminated at length on some of my favorite subjects: the Irish Rovers (naturally), Simon and Garfunkel, John Denver, LOST, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Winnie the Pooh, Disney, VeggieTales... Not to mention my more than 200 Christmas-related reviews. And I’ve had a grand ol’ time festooning the Writer’s Corner with song parodies, of which I’ve also written upwards of 200. It’s been terrific, and I look forward to the next ten. To quote the title song once again, “Whenever I review my lovin’ times with you, / I wouldn’t change a single page we’ve been through.” Here’s to you, Epinions!

Biblical Odd Couple Martin Sheen and Alan Arkin Anchor The Fourth Wise Man

I’ve read a lot of Christmas books, and some of my favorites are inspired by Matthew 25, the chapter of the Bible that includes the account of the separation of the sheep and the goats, with the sheep being rewarded for clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger and tending to the sick, for “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Earlier this year, I was surprised to realize that I’d never read perhaps the most famous of the stories in this vein: Henry Van Dyke’s The Story of the Other Wise Man.

I made that discovery after reading my friend Beth’s review of the film adaptation. Conveniently, we actually happened to have a copy of the book, so I read it, but I didn’t get around to watching The Fourth Wise Man, directed by Michael Ray Rhodes, until this week, when I once again devoted the top slots in my Netflix queue to Christmas movies.

It’s a reverent, no-frills made-for-TV film that features Martin Sheen in the role of Artaban, the wise man who spends the second half of his life searching for the King whose birth was heralded by the night sky. Though he is the central character, Tom Fontana’s screenplay shifts the focus away from him somewhat by introducing a new character, Orontes, a slave pressed into the sage’s service by his father Abgarus (Ralph Bellamy) and promised freedom at the end of his journey, which he fervently hopes will be a short one. Adding Orontes changes the flavor of the story significantly, providing a constant foil for the selfless, determined Artaban and allowing for the gradual development of another kind of hero.

The book’s tone is uniformly serious, but Orontes adds a comical touch to the film. Alan Arkin really has the whining down in this part; Orontes may be a faithful servant, but he rarely agrees with his master’s ideas. He reminds me of Sancho Panza, resolutely trekking along with a delusional Don Quixote. Artaban shows, thanks to Sheen’s heartfelt performance, and Orontes tells, writing sarcastic letters to Abgarus. His speech sounds more contemporary than that of the other characters, accentuating his role as the voice of the skeptical everyman. For Artaban’s quest, and his deviations from it, are not rational. But they are good.

Sheen and Arkin perform wonderfully together and also have the opportunity to act alongside their children, Charlie Sheen and Ramon Estevez and Adam Arkin, in brief scenes. More prominent are Eileen Brennan as Judith, the bedraggled leader of a leper colony, and Lance Kerwin as Passhur, her blind son. In the book, Van Dyke merely indicates that Artaban spent many years among the disenfranchised; he covers this section of his life in a couple of pages, whereas it takes up half the movie, allowing us to see first-hand some of the godly work of this man who always arrives just a little too late to see the King but never entirely gives up hope of finding Him. Lovely Sydney Penny is also affecting as Shameir, the young teenaged daughter of Artaban’s onetime colleague.

The movie is very low-budget, seeming to use as few props as it can get away with and featuring some not-so-special effects and very obvious pauses for commercial breaks. Fontana takes more liberties with the Biblical framework, actually inserting Artaban and Orontes into the scene of Peter’s denial. He also adds a scene, mostly for comic purposes but also to emphasize Orontes’ lack of devotion to the quest at that stage, that has the servant attempting to fool his master into believing that he has found the young Messiah. This may bother purists, but such scenes work well for fleshing the movie out a bit. I’d almost call this more of an Easter movie than Christmas, but during either season, The Fourth Wise Man is a moving tale of faith and compassion.

Beatlemania Has Taken Over in I Wanna Hold Your Hand

My brother Nathan, the most avid Beatles fan in our family, was home this week, so the timing was just right for my latest Netflix delivery, a movie called I Wanna Hold Your Hand that takes place on the February day in 1964 when the Beatles played the Ed Sullivan Theatre. Though I wasn't familiar with any of the principal cast members, I'm certainly a fan of director Robert Zemeckis and producer Steven Spielberg, and the subject matter intrigued me, so when my friend Beth reviewed it here a while back, I stuck it in my queue. While I agree with her that it's a little excessively silly, a few laughs were just what we needed last night.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand chronicles the adventures of six teenagers who, for one reason or another, are determined to get to the Ed Sullivan Theatre in New York City for the Beatles' big show. They're from Jersey, and intrepid aspiring photographer Grace (Theresa Saldana), who is desperate for the chance of a career-making photo, has discovered that limousines are allowed to pull up to the hotel where the Beatles will be staying, so she sweet-talks the shy, awkward, not-yet-licensed Larry (Marc McClure) into commandeering his dad's limo and taking a little road trip.

Also along for the ride are reluctant Pam (Nancy Allen), who's about to get married and doesn't think her fiance will be thrilled about her spending her last night as a single woman out chasing the Beatles, and spastic Paul fanatic Rosie (Wendie Jo Sperber), who knows the answer to every trivia question on the radio and will risk life and limb to get to a phone in an effort to win a coveted pair of tickets. Janis (Susan Kendall Newman), a long-haired counter-culturalist who I'm guessing was named after Janis Joplin, wants to protest these artistically barren moptops in a place where she's most likely to get extensive exposure. The last to join the group is Tony (Bobby DiCicco), a Fonzie-like greaseball with a too-cool-for-school 'tude who tags along by pulling off one of the most reckless automobile stunts I've ever seen.

The chief attribute of this movie is that it is loud. My goodness, those Beatles groupies could screech. And it isn't just squealing and hollering, either; it's sobbing hysterically and trampling each other in an effort to catch a glimpse of their beloved Liverpool boys. If I were John, Paul, George or Ringo, I think I would be terrified. We don't really get to see the lads much, though we do catch a few glimpses of them thanks to Pam, who, despite not really wanting to be there at all, manages to get within close proximity to them on a couple of occasions. It's fun to hear their banter and to observe Pam's reactions, though her initial response to being in the Beatles' hotel room is rather indecent. I would have expected it of the ludicrous Rosie, but not the apparently level-headed Pam. But then this day is all about self-discovery.

While the teens arrive together, it doesn't take long for them to split up, so there's a lot of madcap action as their paths intersect and each faces different challenges in achieving the desired end. After her initial stalking efforts are thwarted, Rosie wriggles out of police custody only to hook up with Richard (Eddie Deezen), a bespectacled geek who is, amazingly, even more of a spaz than she is. An avid collector of Beatles memorabilia, this young man who insists on being called Ringo has been holing up illegally in one of the hotel's rooms. Though Rosie is still madly in love with Paul, she can't help but feel a spark of connection between her and this oddball.

Janis, too, makes a new friend in New York, a boy named Peter (Christian Juttner) whose father is holding his tickets to the Ed Sullivan Show hostage until the moptop gets a haircut. It's funny to hear the irascible father (Read Morgan) rant and rave about his son's girly hair when it's a style that, looking back, seems so natural and inoffensive. Peter is so attached to his look that he'd rather miss out on the Beatles than comply with his father's wishes, but with some help from an agitated Tony, Janis hatches a plan that leads to the boy going directly into the den of terror, complete with an intimidating one-eyed barber who reminds me of surly Mikhail from LOST.

Poor Larry does his best to accommodate Grace throughout the day, but she's so focused on getting her snapshot that it takes her a long time to realize what a gentleman he is. He strikes me as a prototype for Back to the Future's wimpy George McFly, particularly in one scene in which he utters a line that is given to George seven years later. He seems like the most normal one of the bunch, though he has his quirks, most notably very poor driving skills - though his unruly passengers don't help him out any on that score. If the hysterics of the young (and not-so-young) women in this movie are disturbing, the driving habits of the general teenage population are downright alarming.

Fans of the Beatles will enjoy bopping along to some of their hits, particularly the title song, which plays in the opening credits atop footage of the lads landing in New York. They'll also want to keep an ear out for references to later songs that are cleverly incorporated into dialogue. Meanwhile, if the 60s is your scene when it comes to music, it's fun to hear various characters discuss other musicians like Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and Peter Paul & Mary. Zemeckis fans, meanwhile, should be on the lookout for elements incorporated into his later films.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand is a silly movie, and most of its characters are so shrill that they can only be handled in small doses. There's some risky business going on behind closed hotel room doors as well as out in the streets, where obsessed fans will do just about anything to increase their likelihood of contact with John, Paul, George or Ringo. But the protagonists are likable even when they're irritating, and it's fun to watch the very different ways in which they come closer to their goals. I'm not sure if I could have braved a crowd in the throes of Beatlemania, but watching it all unfold on my TV screen is a pretty enjoyable way to spend an evening.

Miri Learns a Lot About Life and Herself in Princess Academy

Last year, while mulling around my aunt's bookstore waiting for the ceremonial opening of the boxes of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, my eye strayed to an audiobook display, where I saw Austenland, a novel about a Jane Austen enthusiast who receives the gift of an immersive trip into Austenian England. Months later, I picked up the audiobook at the library, as it did not seem to be available in traditional book form, but I'm much more of a visual reader and never found the time to finish it. Still, I enjoyed what I heard, and the name stuck with me. Shannon Hale. It wasn't long before my friend Beth clued me in to the fact that Hale has also written several books for young adults, and exceptional ones at that. Hence, Shannon Hale was added to my list of must-read authors. Just recently, she rose to the top of the list.

Princess Academy is the story of Miri, a girl who lives with her father and sister on Mount Eskel, where most of the hardy residents spend their days mining linder, a valuable white stone. Miri stays away from the quarry, heeding her father's strict orders, though she yearns to feel like a valued part of her community. She tends the goats and is in charge of trading with the lowlanders who periodically come to town, but she still feels fairly useless. When an announcement goes out that all girls of a certain age are ordered to attend an academy in order to prepare themselves for the possibility of becoming princess, as the kingdom's priests have determined that the prince is destined to marry a girl from Mount Eskel, Miri at first dreads going. But as classes begin, she starts to imagine how her life, and that of her family, might change for the better if she were selected.

Miri is a spirited heroine, unafraid to speak her mind when she senses injustice. Initially, that happens a lot at the Academy, since their teacher, Olana, is a stern woman who imposes harsh punishments upon her pupils. In trying to defend her peers, she risks increasing her isolation. Terribly lonesome without her sister, who was deemed too old to attend, she struggles to bond with the others and is suspicious of friendly overtures made by the quiet Britta, who moved to the mountain only a short time before. Other girls, like the vacuous Liana and Bena and the fiercely determined Katar, are openly antagonistic as they compete for the title of Academy Princess, an honor likely to give the recipient a better shot with the prince.

Miri works as hard as anyone, pleased to find an arena in which she can excel, but questions whether she truly wants to be princess. The mountain is home, and marrying a man she barely knows is a scary prospect - especially when she thinks about Peder, her childhood playmate, the sight of whom has lately stirred up strange feelings within her. But she has no qualms about her education and is amazed at the world it opens up for her. Learning to read is particularly valuable, as is her accidental discovery of a communication method unique to Mount Eskel residents, which she carefully hones, knowing this covert skill may be of great use to her.

Princess Academy has the feel of an old-fashioned fairy tale, stretched across 25 chapters. It's full of richly drawn characters, adventure and romance with an emphasis on the importance of education and cultural dialogue, and I found the rules for diplomacy enumerated midway through the book worth recalling in everyday life. I could certainly see this being adapted into a fine family film, but even if that happens, it's worth taking the time to read the book. Princess Academy truly is regal.

Blue Jeans Prevail Over Diamonds in A Crooked Kind of Perfect

When I was six years old, we had a small Casio keyboard that we'd gotten for Christmas, and one night I decided to try to coax out of it something more musical than a bossa nova beat under a series of yappy dog barks. It didn't take me long to pick out the melody of the Sesame Street theme song. It was then that my parents, impressed by my meager ability to play by ear, suggested piano lessons. I figured that if I could learn how to play a song so quickly, it wouldn't be long before I became a master musician. There were just a couple of problems with this. First of all, playing the piano - really playing it - was a lot harder than I'd suspected. Secondly, all I had to practice on at home was a tiny keyboard without enough keys for a proper two-octave range and without any way to achieve the desired dynamics of a song. Each note played at exactly the same volume and for exactly the same duration. I needed a piano.

My own early musical experience is the most obvious reason that I relate so strongly to Zoe Elias, the narrator of Linda Urban's outstanding debut novel, A Crooked Kind of Perfect. Instead of a pygmy keyboard, aspiring concert pianist Zoe has a clunky Perfectone D-60 organ. It has more range than my Casio did, but it's hardly the elegant instrument she dreams of playing. Still, it's hers, and she's determined to make do with what she has, to take advantage of the free lessons that came with the organ, to travel the roundabout road to Carnegie Hall. She will not let her dream deferred dry up.

Nonetheless, her young life is littered with disappointments. Her mom is a workaholic who rarely seems to take time for her daughter. Her dad's extreme anxiety keeps him cooped up in the house most of the time, and if it's up to him to get her somewhere, chances are that she won't be able to go. The teacher who comes with her organ is not the beneficent maestro of her imagination. Her "best friend" Emma has selected a new best friend more compatible with her social status. It isn't easy being a 10-year-old.

A Crooked Kind of Perfect is a middle-grade novel, written for the 8- to 12-year-old set. Most of the chapters range in length from one to three pages; they're not numbered, but each has a title, which sometimes is the funniest part of the whole chapter. And oh, is this book funny. Part of the humor comes from Zoe's matter-of-fact observations. For instance, after reading her organ's enthusiastic instruction manual, she advises, "Never trust an exclamation point." Good advice in general, hilarious in context, and an early indication of the book's theme that appearances aren't necessarily an indication of quality. The writing tends to be terse, with the occasional paragraph-length sentence illustrating a chaotic situation. She makes every word count, so it's a breeze to read.

Urban offers as stinging an indictment of elementary school groupthink as I've ever seen. Like Zoe, I never felt as though I fit in very well with my peers, and I was baffled by some of the trends that were supposed to be an indicator of coolness. I suspect that Emma was given the last name Dent intentionally, as an illustration of the following sentiment expressed by Zoe's hero, pianist Vladimir Horowitz: "Perfection itself is imperfection."

While Zoe may be made to feel like an outsider, she is hardly alone in the world. My favorite relationship in the book is her bond with her dad, a man of many idiosyncrasies whose affection and knack for finding fun in every situation make up for his crippling social phobia. He fills his days with courses from an online university, classes with funny names like Golden Gloves: Make a Mint Coaching Boxing and Roger, Wilco, Over, and Cash! Learn to Fly Like the Pros. Zoe and her dad fulfill the classes' requirements together, having a blast along the way, and once in a while, something comes along that actually has practical applications.

At school, Zoe finds an unexpected confidante in class clown Wheeler Diggs. When he starts following her home - something Emma never did - and taking up baking with her dad, she realizes that there's a lot more to him than meets the eye. He's rough around the edges, but he's somebody she can genuinely have fun with. Later, Perform-O-Rama brings her into proximity to Mona, a girl who demonstrates that sometimes, that which glitters is gold. Mona reminds me very much of my class's valedictorian in high school: extremely intelligent and accomplished and still unfailingly kind to those around her.

Of course, with the narrative shaped around Zoe's six-month journey from the acquisition of her organ to her participation in Perform-O-Rama, her organ instructor is crucial to her development. At first, Mabelline Person seems like a letdown, but she turns out to be a diligent and encouraging teacher. She's a brusque, no-nonsense sort of woman with a subtle sarcastic streak, and she peppers her speech with colorful composer-inspired colloquialisms like "Great mother of Mozart" and "Tchaikovsky's checkbook." Perhaps her most important lesson is this: "You have some talent and you work hard. I'll take that over prodigy any day."

The book's extended metaphor for the titular concept is Neil Diamond's Forever in Blue Jeans. Ironically, Zoe chooses the song as her piece for Perform-O-Rama because Diamond's name reminds her of the tiara she envisions wearing in her Carnegie Hall debut. I was tickled about her song selection because I became a Diamond fan not too long after I started playing the piano, and this was one of the songs that won me over. But it wasn't until later that I realized how incredibly appropriate it is for her situation. It takes her even longer, since it isn't until nearly the end of the book that she hears the words to the opening verse for the first time. Up until that point, she fills in her own lines, revealing herself to be a budding lyricist and making the song an even better fit because this book is all about making your own kind of music. Zoe comes to discover that elegance as an end unto itself is of little value and that a true friend respects the things that make you unique. The final sign of how she has grown over the past six months? The first chapter, a gauzy vision of crowds enraptured by her glistening presence at Carnegie Hall, is entitled How It Was Supposed to Be. The heading of the last chapter, whose beauty is of the much more ordinary variety, is How It Is Supposed to Be.

I would heartily encourage any school-age child taking up a musical instrument for the first time to read A Crooked Kind of Perfect, but I certainly don't restrict my recommendation to that specific demographic. This book could be equally valuable to children embarking on any sort of endeavor, whether it's sports or art, not to mention navigating the twisty hallways of elementary education. And I know I'm not the only adult to find this book thoroughly endearing; I picked it up on the strength of an endorsement from my friend Beth, and I've since encouraged my parents and a couple of friends to check it out. I suspect I will read it again soon. But first, I have a piano to dust off.