Anne F. Rockwell (1934–2018)

I never liked the term Magical Thinking. To me it's a term people use to characterize the way others think--others not rational like themselves. Not long ago, I read Thinking Fast and Slow. (The Insert book/author feature isn't working today). The author, Daniel Kahneman, takes pains to indicate the types and occasion in which people think less than rationally. He didn't include grief among those occasions. I always took irrationality as the norm--the first draft of thinking edited later to show more clean it up.

Joan Didion finds her self thinking her dead husband will return but she knows he won't. Her internal magician isn't fooling her. She knows it's just a game she's playing with herself because she wishes he could return. The suddenness of his death in an "ordinary instant" disrupts the natural editing process and she becomes aware of this aspect of her thought process. It's temporary. A year later at the end of the book, she already sees herself reverting to the unmagical ordinariness.

When I started the book, her almost Virginia Wolfian stream of consciousness drew me right in. Unlike Virginia Wolfe, Joan Didion adds a layer of obsession tying everything together. She consults the literature, she searches her memory and revises what she finds, she documents the threads holding her relationships together--relationships that are in the process of going or already gone and we experience the intimacy of it. And then we experience the loss of it.

These are the moments when the book is at its best. At other times, her obsessions remove us from the intimacy. This is what obsession is meant to do. It's a mental trick to remove us with distracting repetition from overwhelming or unpleasant emotions. Other reviews have called Ms. Didion cold because she's more of the obsessive than the hysteric they would prefer. I don't share their preference.

Nor am I bothered as other were by the fabulosity (yes, spellcheck, I'm aware you don't think that's a word) of her life. They complain of her name-dropping or wealth-flaunting but that's just who she is and how she lives and it doesn't protect her from what she has to experience.

I have never read her fiction. I'm afraid I won't like it. I like her though--the "her" of this book and of "Slouching Toward Bethlehem, so I'll give it a chance at some point. show less

When his family moves into a new house that (according to Mom) needs some fixing up, the young boy narrator, together with his sister and father, heads to the local hardware store. There the trio explore the many different kinds of products available, slowly amassing all the supplies they will need to make their home improvements...

I cannot say, all told, that Let's Go to the Hardware Store is a book I would have been likely to pick up, were it not one of the featured titles at a show more picture-book event at work, but having done so, I found it engaging and fun. Anne Rockwell is a prolific children's author, who often explores the day-to-day events in children's lives, from going to the supermarket to attending kindergarten. In this story, the reader gets to experience a variety of interesting items to be found in a hardware store. The accompanying artwork by Melissa Iwai highlights the different items discussed in the story - varieties of hammer, types of screwdriver - and adds to the sense of fun. All in all, an entertaining little book, one I would recommend to those looking for lighthearted picture-books about tools and do-it-yourself endeavors. show less

"Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life."

This is a raw, deeply introspective memoir about grief. Written after her husband’s sudden death and her daughter’s grave illness (who died after the book was published), it chronicles her attempt to process unimaginable loss while confronting the fragility of life.

Joan Didion is celebrated for her literary analysis of societal and show more personal crises. Before her fame as a memoirist and novelist, she worked as an editor at Vogue and was part of the "New Journalism" movement, blending literary techniques with traditional reporting, which cemented her reputation as one of America’s most important literary figures.

To me, the title of this book was a bit misleading. I anticipated a narrative about how Didion used “magical thinking” to pull herself through grief—a kind of personal empowerment story. Instead, I found the book to be a harrowing descent into her sorrow. I later learned that her “magical thinking” was actually her desperate belief that she could somehow control or reverse these events.

Didion’s typical New York literary style often alienated me. The text is sprinkled with niche cultural references and name-drops that even well-read people might struggle to grasp. These, combined with too much focus on the minutiae of her daily life, pulled me away from her grief and left me feeling a bit annoyed.

I had hoped this book would offer insights into grief that would resonate even with those who hadn’t experienced the loss of a loved one—perhaps those grieving other life changes or struggles. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case for me. The book felt too specific and too personal to Didion’s experience to offer me much comfort or perspective.

Although this book is a poignant exploration of loss, it’s not for everyone. It's not going to uplift you or deliver much accessible wisdom on grieving. I think it might resonate more with intellectuals who have lost someone close to them and who appreciate a more cerebral exploration of grief. show less

Today I'm looking at two books about visiting the library, one more fictional and one nonfiction, as well as some thoughts on library books in general.

Anne Rockwell has a long history of books introducing children to everyday activities and places. She's recently started a series called "My First Experiences" which I've found very useful in my library. In this title, a blond boy named Don of about five accompanies his father to the library. They return materials and then his father leaves show more him in the children's room while he goes to use the computer. The boy listens to stories then hangs out with a another boy. They look at books, movies and magazines. One of the librarians from storytime suggests books for the boy and then he explores the children's room where various quiet activities are taking place. Don's father returns and he gets a library card then gets his books scanned and checked out. Don and his father return home after making plans to come back for a puppet show the following week.

The second library book is in a new series from Bullfrog books - First Field Trips. In brief, simple sentences it shows a small class of diverse children visiting the library. They meet a librarian, "She helps people. She finds books. She finds information." They sit for a storytime, learn to use the catalog, and find out the library has different types of materials like books, dvds, and magazines. Their teacher uses self-check to scan his materials, which are due back in two weeks. There are a few simple definitions of areas in the library and a little picture glossary and index.

Opinion on Anne Rockwell's title seems divided between librarians who are fans of Rockwell and absolutely adore it, love the diversity (not the main character or on the cover of course though. sigh.) and the more updated library. Then there's those who are horrified that the father abandons his child in storytime/to wander around the library, that magazines are promoted when many libraries aren't carrying them anymore and the generally old-fashioned drawings.

The child abandonment doesn't really bother me - I work in a small library and while we do have a "no unattended children" policy we're not really that aggressive about it, as long as the kids are behaving and not visibly distressed. Lots of libraries offer storytimes for preschool age without parents present. Rockwell's illustrations do have an outdated feel to them, but for many older adults introducing children to the library they're a familiar style and there is some diversity included.

Meister's nonfiction title is much more diverse - I think that might be the first time I remember seeing a younger African-American man portrayed as a teacher. It also portrays a generally technologically-updated library and is more general in portraying the library.

So, which book is better - my answer is neither. My opinion is that, although many familiar community landmarks like post offices, fire engines, and schools are all more or less uniform, libraries adapt to their communities. While I agree that magazines are rapidly dying and it's probably better not to emphasize them so much, every library has a different emphasis. Some libraries may offer chess games, art activities, and unaccompanied storytimes as seen in Rockwell's title. Others may have self-checkout or other services as in the nonfiction title. The library I work at has our picture books organized in neighborhoods, graphic novels integrated into juvenile fiction, toy train, kitchen, and dollhouse, circulating toys, and a pet hamster. A neighboring library has a manga collection that's probably 3 times the size of mine. Another has a dedicated teen area and programs. Another has a strong local history section. It's not really possible to write a "definitive" library book since all libraries are so different. I appreciate that both books show vibrant, happy spaces that are clearly supplying children and families with services they need and want and that's the most important thing.

Verdict: If, like me, you have teachers clamoring for "community" books both are excellent selections. However, if your budget is limited the Public Library title from Bullfrog is more generic and likely to hit more points in common with your individual library.

Library Day by Anne Rockwell
ISBN: 9781481427319; Published 2016 by Simon & Schuster; Borrowed from another library in my consortium

Public Library by Cari Meister
ISBN: 9781620312964; Published 2016 by Bullfrog/Jump; Review copy provided by publisher; Donated to the library show less