One of the most enjoyable things about writing historical fiction is falling down the research rabbit hole.
Yes, I know authors of contemporary fiction have to do research also. Not disrespecting other writers. Just saying that historical research is, in my view, lots more interesting.
I especially like to read memoirs, and collections of letters. I have a couple of print books in my memoir collection, and more that I picked up from Google Books and Project Gutenberg. Though social norms and societal expectations might have changed, people’s wants and desires haven’t changed that much.
Another print book recently came into my collection, from my sister who was shuffling her collection of books for a cross-country move. It’s our grandmother’s geography text from her school days:
I’m up there in years, and as I was the second youngest of all the many grandchildren, this book is also old. In fact, it’s from the century before last. It was copyrighted in 1897, and that’s the year Grandma received it, inscribing it with her name and “her Book, Dec. 26, 1897.”
What I love is that, like a kid from my generation, the grandma who I knew as a very old, very proper octogenarian doodled and scribbled on the interior and exterior covers. In one place there are her initials in a pin-point design; in another, a penciled flower drawing; and a math problem when she maybe ran out of scrap paper.
Remember me early
Remember me late,
Remember me at
The Golden Gate
And this one:
Dear friend,
Love me little
Love me long
Love me when
I’m dead and gone
And:
These few lines are tendered
By a friend sincere and true
Hoping but to be remembered
By an honest friend like you
And this last:
Dear Sister
When on this page
you chance to look
remember it was
your sister that
wrote this in your book.
That one is rather poignant, because grandma’s sister died the following year.
Grandma was seventeen when she acquired this book, and she went on to become a country schoolteacher before marrying, having six children, and carrying out her share of the responsibilities of running the family farm–gardening, canning, cooking, cleaning, clothing everyone, etc. Her only water was pumped from a cistern, and she cooked on a wood stove. It makes me tired thinking about it!
Do you have any old treasures like this in your personal collection? Share in the comments, please!
Have a wonderful autumn, and I’ll see you at my next Quarter Days post.
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
blown off a moving car mundane occurrences
don’t matter insurance will cover damages it’s
only stuff replaceable in all events except
life that breathes skin that is drenched in the rain or tears
the hand that held yours when others crept away and you
were alone looking at the leaky ceiling with
the roof partly gone streaks of cloud visible perhaps none
of the storm strikes you as odd just the leaking heart you hear
drip drip drip
© Neetu Malik
I decided to enter the KidLit Chuckle Challenge. I had 200 words to make someone laugh. In addition, I was required to use two of the six writing prompts given. I chose ‘Avocado the Penguin’ and ‘Broccoli.’ My entry is below. The italicized illustration note does count toward the total 200 words.
Illustration: Penguin and Poodle are drawn like fruits/vegetables with faces. As their names change, they change.
Avocado groaned. “Why would anyone name a penguin after a squishy green tropical fruit?”
“Or a dog after a vegetable?” Broccoli the Poodle said.
“I hate my name,” said Avocado.” My penguin friends all have wonderful names like Big Wing and Small Wing, and Medium-sized Wing, and Slightly-Smaller-than-Big-Wing, and A-Touch-Bigger-than-Small-Wing.”
“Isn’t that confusing?” Broccoli asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. What name would you like?”
“Pear. It has such a nice sound: Pear the Penguin, or Pear-with-really-humongous-wings, or Pear-Penguin-with-wings-bigger-than-a-Killer-Whale’s-fin, or—”
“Stop! I can’t take it anymore.”
“You don’t like Pear?”
“No.”
“How about Butternut Squash Penguin or Eggplant-with-gorgeous-wings or—”
“How about Waddles,” Broccoli said.
“I don’t waddle.”
“What about Stands-all-day-with-tired-feet or Doesn’t-know-to-go-south or Has-anyone-seen-my-egg?”
“NO!”
“Well, those names are way better than large-bottomed-fruit-of-the-happy-wing.”
“Wait, that’s close, real close.”
“Really? You’re so frustrating.”
“What would you like your name to be?” Penguin asked.
“Udon Noodle Poodle. Notice how it rhymes.”
Penguin nodded, “Sophisticated.”
“I know.”
“Oh! Oh! I’ve got it,” Avocado shouted. “Cheese Curd Bird.”
“Wow, that’s FANTASTIC.”
“Udon Noodle Poodle, can I really change my name?”
“Yes, Cheese Curd Bird.”
“Thanks.”
Happy Writing!
Kidd
September. Summer comes to a close and a new school year begins; with all of the excitement, wonder and angst of growing up, fitting in, and trying to figure out who you are and your place in the world.
Which is why I found Bagley’s, I Am Flawsome, a treasure of a book, and a welcome and much needed September read for girls going back to school.
I Am Flawsome, which means that while one may have flaws, (and who doesn’t), one can still be awesome in spite of them, is geared to girls between the ages of eight and thirteen. A variety of coloring pages, activities, and thoughtful prompts, and spaces for daily journaling, encourages girls to accept themselves as they are, and promotes a healthy and positive self-image.
You won’t find the author’s name anywhere in the book, which I thought was a printing error, but Sheila explained, “I want the book to stand on its own to better accomplish the intent for which it was written: a daily practice for girls to learn how to be their own best friend.”
So, the book is not about her, but about you, the reader.
As the pages in the book affirm:
I am,
F ollowing my heart
L earning new things
A dapting as I go
W elcoming differences
S etting goals
O pening my mind
M aking mistakes
E nough
I Am Flawsome, is a wonderful book that validates the individual, and helps them to discover and see how very special and unique they are.
The perfect gift for girls of all ages, young and old alike!
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on October 22nd!
Other books reviewed by Veronica.
A California native, novelist Tracy Reed pushes the boundaries of her Christian foundation with her sometimes racy and often fiery tales.
After years of living in the Big Apple, this self proclaimed New Yorker draws from the city’s imagination, intrigue, and inspiration to cultivate characters and plot lines who breathe life to the words on every page.
Tracy’s passion for beautiful fashion and beautiful men direct her vivid creative power towards not only novels, but short stories, poetry, and podcasts. With something for every attention span.
Tracy Reed’s ability to capture an audience is unmatched. Her body of work has been described as a host of stimulating adventures and invigorating expression.
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After everything they have gone through. Why now? Why this?
"A woman walks into a crowded Manhattan bar and meets a nice southern gentleman." That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke or the beginning of an intriguing love story.
More info →A Prominent judge is dead; a sixteen-year-old girl is charged.
More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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