I picked up this book in a used bookstore in Michigan about 25 years ago. It was the charming artwork on the dust jacket that drew me in. Such a lovely family scene. It wasn’t until later that I put “two and two together” about the author, Shirley Jackson!
My first experience with media related to Shirley Jackson was watching the black-and-white movie version of her book The Haunting of Hill House. I was in high school and had come home early from a weekend date with a high temperature. I lay on the couch and watched the only thing that looked interesting on our two available TV stations. The movie, The Haunting, was definitely creepy, and I usually like non-bloody scary movies. Or was it just my temperature and fatigue making me feel somewhat delirious? No, my mom thought it was too creepy, and she went to bed. I watched through my fingers until the sinister ending.
Years later, in college, I read her famous story, “The Lottery,” and wrote a paper (on an old standard typewriter) about The Haunting of Hill House. I also sampled other stories from her collections. Psychological horror and literary suspense at their finest! I loved her writing. So where did Life Among the Savagesfit in? I needed to know more!
I discovered that Shirley Jackson was married to a college professor, and they raised four children, with much of that time spent in the house depicted in the stylized art on the dust jacket. Shirley Jackson was a not-so-typical mother of the 50s, trying to raise kids AND to contribute significantly to the family income. It wasn’t all “fun and games.” Just beneath the surface of her amusing tales, we sense a woman on the edge who struggles to reach her writing goals while caring for a home and children, with a husband who offers little help or true emotional support. Shirley Jackson certainly had a dark side. She often dealt with anxiety and a sense of exclusion. But she wrote delightfully about the chaos of family life. For me, she’s right up there with close contemporaries, such as Betty MacDonald, Jean Kerr, and Erma Bombeck.
One of Shirley Jackson’s well-known stories, titled “Charles,” is incorporated into Life Among the Savages, and I used that story when I taught middle school language arts as a wonderful example of irony and foreshadowing. If you haven’t read it, you can check that out here! Her children are shown below on the back of the book’s dust jacket. I have since learned that she also wrote a follow-up book called Raising Demons.
Over the years, I was always on the lookout for anything by Shirley Jackson. One summer, I went to the annual library used book sale in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, and was excited to find the book Come Along With Me. Pictured below, it contains lectures about writing, an unfinished novel at her death, and short stories, including “The Lottery.” It was edited by her husband, Stanley Edgar Hyman. What a find! The other book, Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Lifeby Ruth Franklin, is a new, exceptional biography that my sister gave me, knowing my interest in the author. When I reached the last page, I felt that I knew this complex, eccentric, and often misunderstood woman. And I could see how this talented author delved into malice, cruelty, and terror while also skillfully spinning humorous stories about everyday life!
In the past, I’ve had the privilege of rescuing several animals to adopt and save them from an uncertain future. I’ve also rescued plants heading for the compost pile, nurturing them back to health. But a type of mission I’ve accepted that is not as widely appreciated is the literary rescue!
You might ask, “What’s a literary rescue?” First, let’s look at what it is NOT.
As a teenager, I had my first sleepover with a friend I had known since elementary school. We had fun paddling a rowboat around the shallow inland lake across from her house. However, after dinner, we were told that my friend had to put in her hour of daily piano practice. What to do? I wouldn’t attempt the boat alone. And they lived on a country road, so I wouldn’t go walking around. I didn’t want to sit in the living room and stare at her parents (or have them stare at me). My only option seemed to be waiting in her sparsely appointed room. Then what? An hour with nothing to do can seem like an eternity to a teen.
Luckily, I discovered a small shelf filled with books in the corner of her room. These were old books, mostly without dust jackets, to provide clues about their contents. I grabbed one named Claudia because it was a girl’s name and started reading. The story was about a young, recently married woman who was not yet far beyond her teenage years. I was captivated. The sounds of piano music in the background faded away.
When my friend finally returned, I showed her what I’d been reading. She informed me that “all those old books” used to belong to her mother, and the girl didn’t like most of them. I’d started reading one and asked if I could borrow it and finish it later at home. She agreed and wrote her name inside. I thoroughly enjoyed the book. I hated to let it go. Months turned to years. About a decade later, I discovered Claudia was the first book of a charming series by Rose Franken. I’ve now read them all. I meant to return that book to my friend and maybe tell her how much I liked it. However, I never did, and I have now lost track of her. Sorry, Marilyn!
Did I actually “rescue” that book? Probably not. Because I kept it intentionally, some might say it was a “booknapping” rather than a rescue. And I doubt anyone in the family would have burned or thrown those vintage books into the trash anytime soon. But it certainly was a lucky, long-term borrow on my part!
A few years later, the summer I graduated from high school, I donned my bathing suit and walked to the local beach one afternoon. This wasn’t the park where all the teens hung out but a small, quiet affair where parents were more apt to take their little ones. I just wanted to get some sun and fresh air while enjoying the book A Summer Place by Sloan Wilson.
Engrossed in the story, I tuned out the few beachgoers around me and didn’t realize at first that the sun was no longer reemerging from behind the clouds. I finally noticed the chill and the appearance of goosebumps on my bare arms and legs. Deciding I should head home in case rain moved in, I put my book aside in the sand, threw my pop can (yes, we called it pop in Michigan) in the trash, and folded my blanket, stuffing it into my beach bag. I quickly set out for home.
A few blocks in, I realized I’d forgotten to pick up my book! The sky still looked ominous, but I retraced my steps. As I drew closer to the beach, I saw my book was nowhere near where I had left it. But I circled the narrow strip of sand, thinking maybe I had been wrong about the location. And then, I spotted it. A young mother tightly gripped my copy of A Summer Place as she rounded up her raucous bunch of kids to leave. Being the introvert I was (and mostly still am), I didn’t say a word and turned back toward home, feeling disappointed. Okay, I knew how the story ended because I’d seen the movie starring Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. But I would still check it out from the library sometime to finish reading it.
Had that person “rescued” my book? She might have thought so (hello, woman from the beach; I hope you enjoyed it!). But I went back for my book to protect it from the elements, so I say it doesn’t qualify as an actual rescue on her part.
Years later, when I was teaching fourth grade in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, an elementary school in a nearby county closed down. Their entire library of books was up for grabs. Many of them were brought to our school for teachers to select for their classrooms. Of course, many were old copies of familiar chapter books, such as those by Beverly Cleary. But they certainly added to this new teacher’s classroom library. My heartbeat raced when I saw two picture books by Swedish author and illustrator Maj Lindman. Her bright “Flicka, Ricka, Dicka” and “Snipp, Snapp, Snurr” series about two sets of triplets were my favorites as a child and the first ones I looked for at the library. Although the characters might have looked a bit younger than fourth grade, I would enjoy showing my students examples of books I had loved as a child. I grabbed one from each series.
When I moved away and left my job at that school, I dreaded leaving those books behind. I imagined the new fourth-grade teacher dumping anything outdated or what they considered overly young. I took the two picture books with me to share with my next group of students. Stealing? Not really, although I could have asked permission. I still have them with the old library cards tucked inside. A literary rescue? I like to think so!
Even after moving away, I often returned to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Hunting for used bookstores was a favorite summertime hobby. One year, I saw a sign that said, “Books in the Barn,” pointing down a dirt lane. Sure enough, there was an old barn full of used books! And this was not a barn fixed up to serve as a store. It was still just an old barn, open to the elements, daylight showing between the boards. The books all smelled somewhat musty. A friendly clerk said they had somehow ended up with the inventory but didn’t have an appropriate shop space. They would sell what they could that summer and get rid of the rest. The words “get rid of” rang in my ears. I bought several books that day. The ones that stuck in my mind were Jack Finney’s time travel duo Time and Again and From Time to Time. They were both warped from the humidity. But I enjoyed them immensely and didn’t give them up until years later during another move. Was this a literary rescue? Yes, I believe those purchases do qualify.
So, we could say the following conditions constitute a literary rescue: saving books that are in danger of being burned, drowned, thrown away, or otherwise ruined by the elements.
This brings me to a recent rescue event. Last autumn, I visited the library in the late afternoon. The air was warm, the breeze light, and the clear sky a bright blue. They keep the building very cold inside, so I wore a thin fleece. I had to return a few books, and the distance is just the right length for my daily walks. I began browsing the shelves with the new titles and eventually glanced up and outside. What? Leaves and branches flew past the windows, and the sky was unusually dark for that time of the day. I looked at my phone and saw the temperature had already dropped about 25 degrees. I checked out the book I’d found and headed for the door.
Outside, the cold wind hit me with force, and I was glad I’d worn the fleece, which at least offered minimal protection. ABlue Norther, I thought. One side of the sky had turned a much darker blue, and a solid curtain of steely gray clouds was moving in from the Northwest. This would not be one of those dry Blue Northers; rain was coming. I had forgotten to bring a bag with me. If rain started to fall, I’d have to put the book under my jacket. I quickly strode toward home.
My next mistake was the route I took. Yes, it was the most logical way to go. But I had to pass the corner where a Little Free Library was perched on my way. I often check that wooden stand for books on my walks and have made great finds. But the door was broken, yet again. Repeated repairs had failed. It kept breaking or falling off. That day, I didn’t want to look and tried to stay on the other side of the street. But it seemed as if someone had just added a collection of books. I didn’t need anything else to carry since I was only halfway home, and rain was imminent. But…I couldn’t help myself. I hurriedly rifled through the books. Don’t need, no, don’t need, no. Then, I saw it. A lovely vintage book of poetry by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Dark blue with gold and red trim. The pages were edged in gold. I opened it and sniffed. Ahh. I love the smell of old books. It was not in good shape and starting to fall apart. But could I leave it there to be ruined in the deluge? No.
I reached my apartment building just as the rain began to fall. Whew. It was then time to explore my literary rescue!
The book’s copyright date is 1882, inscribed by what looks to be F.M. Harlow to a late employee or employer, Thomas Enstone, that same year. The handwriting is difficult to read. Some poems are illustrated, such as “The Village Blacksmith.” Of course, the book sleuth in me was curious to know why a person might give this book to someone with whom they’d worked. What kind of business?
I’ve done some internet research at several points, trying to find out more about these individuals or a possible connection between them and the author. I found that Longfellow’s nephew worked with an architect named Alfred Harlow. In addition, there was a Louis Harlow, who illustrated some of Longfellow’s books. So, maybe the Harlows were related? That’s all I’ve come up with so far, but it’s fun to look! If you have any ideas, I’m interested!
Since that day, the door to the Little Free Library has come apart and been fixed several more times. But people continued to put books in there. I brought home several, although those were more contemporary. My apartment’s bookshelf space is limited, so I’ll either need to donate more of my books to the library’s little bookshop or give up literary rescues altogether!
Amid troubles far and wide, reaching for positives as a lead-in to the coming holiday season feels like a wise course of action. Beyond the importance of family, health, and meaningful work, I’m drawn to reflecting upon my writing critique group. Most of us met through a larger local organization where we occasionally share our works and also enjoy monthly presentations on writing craft. However, several of us longed for a smaller group where we would share our work more regularly. So, about a half-dozen years ago, our small critique group of six was born. Twice a month, we meet in a study room at the Frisco, TX, library. We made it through the pandemic online but were happy to resume meeting in person.
Critique groups come in all shapes and sizes; the group I belong to is no exception. Our members write fiction for adults and children, nonfiction, novels, novellas, short stories, blog posts, and newsletters. We are both traditionally and self-published. Our process is simple. About four days before each scheduled meeting, we email our writing pieces to all members. Those members then read and offer praise, observations, questions, and suggested edits, then return the marked documents to the authors.
At our meetings, we discuss all the feedback as a group. In addition, we also talk about other things: publishing options, querying, what we’re reading, our research, and sometimes our personal lives. I’m happy to say we’re supportive not only as writing peers but as friends. Thank you: Linda Baten Johnson, Carolyn Lis, Gary Thornberry, Jan Angelley Cobb, and Donna Anderson. And also a note of appreciation to Karen Hodges, our former member who moved away with family. My writing has grown with your help. I’m grateful for each of you!
When I came across this cute vintage paperback by Betty MacDonald at the used bookstore, I recognized the author’s name right away. But this was a “new” story and a new husband! The $3.00 price tag was well worth it, and I snapped this one up without a second thought.
I became familiar with Betty MacDonald’s humorous writing through her first book, The Egg and I, years ago, in high school. I was one of the students chosen in my senior English class to take part in a regional forensics competition. Assigned to do humorous readings (not sure why), I had no clue what to present. The Egg and I had rested on my parents’ bookshelf for years without tempting me. It no longer had the dust jacket pictured below, and with just a plain green cover, it never called to me.
My mom wisely suggested I check it out for some humorous chapters. I thoroughly enjoyed the funny book about a newly married couple who lived on a chicken ranch in Washington State. Imagine my surprise when I discovered this was the origin of the Ma and Pa Kettle characters I had seen in movies! I did well in the competition, advancing several rounds, and even had to read in front of my entire (small) school at an assembly. I was very nervous, but Betty MacDonald’s entertaining words gave me much-needed confidence.
Years later, I enjoyed watching the movie on either AMC or TCM. Claudette Colbert played Betty, and Fred MacMurray played her first husband, Bob.
When I came across Onions in the Stew, I realized there was a lot more to Betty MacDonald (1907-1958) than I had ever known, and I needed to dig deeper! I soon discovered that she wrote Anybody Can Do Anythingabout raising her daughters as a single parent during the Depression and also The Plague and I about surviving tuberculosis. All told through humor, of course. Onions in the Stew tells about moving to Vashon Island in the Pacific Northwest’s Puget Sound with her two daughters and new husband, Don. For a taste of the humor, I’ll mention that their washing machine floats away into the Sound their first night there!
Although Betty MacDonald died much too young, from cancer at age 49, she packed a lot of living and writing into her life. She is also the author of the Mrs. Piggle Wiggleseries, in addition to Nancy and Plum.
My research prompted by this fantastic find at the bookstore also placed another book in my sights, this biography by Paula Becker. I can hardly wait!
Becky as Mrs. Wishy-Washy, Joy Cowley’s Delightful Character
I try not to dwell on the past, but I often enjoy thinking of my teaching years. I especially loved teaching reading, using books like Joy Cowley’s “Mrs. Wishy-Washy” stories. Many times, I’m able to effectively use my background in education to enrich both my writing and freelance editing work.
My editing projects sometimes involve non-fiction educational materials. And, of course, picture books provide an abundance of teachable scenarios. Blog articles I’ve written aimed at early childhood education have also been published, along with several decodable readers.
I’m happy to say that one of my fiction stories has recently been published, which combines reading instruction strategies with a fun fantasy setting. Click here to meet Mr. Zappo and his “buzzing letters.” He and Ms.Exeter are the early elementary teachers we each would have been lucky to meet while learning to read!
Beyond picture books, my next fondest memories of reading as a child were of the Trixie Belden mysteries. And I have my older sister, Terri, to thank for my love of books! She often read to me when we were kids, and she still tells me about great series she has heard about or read that I might want to try.
Although I enjoyed Nancy Drew’s antics, Trixie was always my favorite and seemed more like a “real kid.” I still have several treasured copies of Trixie Belden books from our childhood.
If you also loved those books or would like to learn more about them, here is a great article with background about the settings and authors!
When I scan the shelves in a bookshop, sometimes a volume chooses me! Irresistible qualities include eye-catching titles, outstanding cover art, smells that spark memories, or an author’s name that rings a bell.
For about two years, I had the pleasure of living in Marquette, Michigan, situated in the Upper Peninsula and perched on the shores of Lake Superior. A variety of bookstores graced that town, but my absolute favorite was Snowbound Books, within walking distance from my home and pictured above. At that time, the store’s vintage paperbacks huddled together in one section, and I always checked them, on the hunt for Dell Map Backs or other interesting finds.
During one of my frequent visits, a 1950 Pocket Book Mystery entitled Beyond a Reasonable Doubtchose me to be its owner. I had nothing to say about it. The book wasn’t a Map Back, but I had to have it, all the same. The title wasn’t what grabbed me; it was the author’s name…C.W. Grafton. Could they be related? One of my favorite mystery authors is Sue Grafton, author of the Kinsey Millhone Alphabet Mystery series, beginning with A is for Alibi. Hundreds of mystery authors could have the last name Grafton, I supposed.
In those hazy years before the Internet, facts and details weren’t available instantaneously at our fingertips like they are today. Months passed before I knew the answer to my question. Yes, they were related! C.W. Grafton was Sue Grafton’s father, who practiced as a lawyer and published three mystery novels. My new collection search had been born!
Becky’s Collection
I don’t need much of an excuse to stop at a used bookstore or collectibles shop that might feature books. This new quest was one more reason to pull over when I saw a promising business sign. Decades went by, but I found all three! Which is my favorite? The paperback on the left is important, since it was the first. My purchase of The Rope Began to Hang the Butcher, on the right, was exciting because it was the last and completed this collection. The book shown in the middle, The Rat Began to Gnaw the Rope, is my favorite, for two reasons. First, this copy still proudly wears its jacket, however tattered. Second, the book is dedicated to C.W.’s youngest child, Sue, his other daughter, Ann, and wife, Viv. The family is shown below with the book in a 1944 photo, with Sue on the right.
The Grafton Family in 1944
Over the years, I’ve read interviews in which Sue Grafton explains she was the survivor of a difficult childhood, due to both of her parents suffering from alcoholism. In her semi-autobiographical book, Kinsey and Me (2013), she credits her father with her own passion for the mystery genre, which served her well. Sue Grafton died in 2017, at age 77, just one book shy of the entire alphabet. I’ve read all her alphabet mysteries except the last one, Y is for Yesterday. Guess I don’t want them to end…
Visit Celebrate Picture Books to read about this fun book related to punctuation and writing! ~Becky
About the Holiday This week was established to raise awareness and promote literacy and the joys and benefits of reading. During the week, children’s authors and illustrators attend special events at schools, bookstores, libraries, and other community centers to share their books and get kids excited about reading. To learn more about how you can […]
If you learned to read at school in the U.S., sometime from the 1940’s to the 1960’s, there’s a good chance that you learned with the help of Dick and Jane, their little sister, Sally, and the pets, Puff and Spot. By today’s standards of instructional materials for reading, this basal series was quite dry and some might say boring. I loved those books in my first years of school, mainly because…I WAS READING!
Fast forward many decades, when I trained to become a teacher and landed my first elementary position in Michigan. Although we still used a basal series in fourth grade, that year, it was packed with “real literature” and was supplemented with sets of award-winning chapter books, in addition. By the time I served as a Chapter I reading teacher in North Carolina and later taught kindergarten back in Michigan, sets of charming leveled books (like “Mrs. Wishy-Washy“) had replaced all basals. Reading instruction methods, assessment, and progress tracking had been fine-tuned, as well.
During my years of teaching and even after I retired, collectingvintage children’s readers was a hobby that I enjoyed immensely. Many of those 30+ books were the Dick and Jane variety, while some featured other children, pets, and retold folk literature. I had a few favorites, like the cover that’s pictured above, which I can actually remember from childhood. I had read an article, once, that revealed the Dick and Jane characters originally were a part of other collections before they appeared in their “own series”. These early books were known to be quite the collectors’ items and sometimes brought hundreds of dollars. I stored this information in the back of my mind, but didn’t really remember the details.
One day, as fate would have it, I was looking through shelves of used books in a little shop near St. Louis, Michigan. I picked up an old school reader that was in pretty rough shape. My heart started beating a little faster, since the Elson-Gray name on the scarred cover rang a bell. I leafed through the book, being careful not to tear the somewhat brittle pages any more than they already were…Billy and Nancy, Alice and Ned, DICK AND JANE!!!
I tried not to be too overjoyed, since I couldn’t tell if the price penciled near the front of the book said $2.00 or $200. Yes, I really wanted that 1936 edition, but it wasn’t in great shape, and I’ve never spent that much money on a book in my life. Holding my breath, I walked up to the counter. Luck was with me that day, and I still have the receipt for $2.12, with tax.
When I moved from Michigan to Texas a few years ago, I was forced to dramatically cut back on the books that I would pay to ship, since I had collected many different types, over the years. As an end result, I saved just five of my children’s readers, including three regular Dick and Jane books and this very special precursor of what they would later become. I’ll treasure it forever, along with the memory of that day.
I’d love to hear from you in comments if you learned to read with Dick and Jane, or if you would just like to share a memory about learning to read!
A Sad Farewell to a Good Man – this is from Jon at Children’s Book Insider.
(I’d love to read comments about your experience, if you own or have used a Little Free Library! ~Becky)
Todd Bol, 1956-2018
Todd Bol passed away last week, at the age of 62. You may not know the name, but you’ve seen his impact.
If you’ve passed by a home, or a firehouse, or a school that has a Little Free Library out in front, you’ve met Todd. You see, Todd is the man who thought the whole thing up, and then spread this beautiful idea around the globe.
He didn’t do it for money, nor fame. He just wanted more people to read, and more neighbors to get to know one another.
Today, 77,000+ Little Free Libraries later, Todd’s simple idea is putting books into the hands of millions, and creating tighter, more connected neighborhoods in the process.
I had the privilege of interviewing Todd as one of the very first guests on my podcast, DISRUPTOR. He was a lovely, thoughtful and deeply inspiring man.
A friend who heard the interview when it posted told me she wept just listening to such a decent man who viewed the world not with anger or distress, but as a garden for dreams to flower. And books were his water.
When the news of his passing came out, she texted me to tell me how gutted she was to hear about the loss of a man she had only known for the duration of a 30 minute recording. I feel the same way, and so do many, many others in the publishing community.
I invite you to take 30 minutes to meet Todd. His words will forever change your attitude about whether a regular person like *you* can have a massive impact for good.
Be inspired by what he’s done, and help carry his torch of understanding, knowledge and love of reading onward. And please share this interview so others may know this remarkable man.
Rest in Peace, Todd. May a million Little Free Libraries bloom in your memory.
Episode 2 – Todd Bol of Little Free Library
What started as a hobby has become one of the book world’s most exciting adventures. Meet the man behind Free Little Library, and learn how he’s bringing free books to millions of readers!
Platform Number 4 