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Summer is ending and the garden is winding down. I’m harvesting fewer veggies and making plans to prepare amend my soil over the winter. Next

Fall Crop: Rutabaga

year, I simply want a wider variety of vegetables. I need to move to a plot that gets full sun in the early morning, but I’m not sure how well that will work out.

And, as the garden winds down the library is gearing up for the school year. This week I’ve got classes to teach and a graduate student open house to staff. I’m meeting at CANDLES Holocaust Museum to develop a docent program, finishing up a project with National Geographic to align some of their books to the Core Curriculum and I have this idea for an article that I want to develop. And, my BFYA pile is growing again! I admit it’s still out of control, but I’m planning strategic days at home over the next few months to do nothing but read. And, my weekends are completely and boringly void of everything except books.

I think most people want others to be aware of the work they do and the

Weekly Harvest of Books!

Internet is the perfect venue for sharing our successes. Have you ever done a search for someone and found nothing on them?

Do you ever search your own name? This morning, I used Google, Bing and Yahoo to search for myself. Using my full name, I got a lot of hits for obituaries of dead white women. I used to find curriculum units I prepared or programs I participated in but now, I suppose those things are just too old.

When I shortened my first name to “Edi” and eliminated “Edie” from my search, I got a few things related to my blog, a video that I think is about a singer in Latin h America and advice on how to dress like Edi Campbell, most probably the other Edi Campbell.

Now, I’m not trying to use the ‘net to claim my 3 minutes of fame but I do know that there is a very good chance I’ll be looking for another job or two. Face it, employers search to see what they can find out about us. About.me is a nice, new tool that allows users to create their own home page and establish their professional image. It would be good for students entering the job market as well as for the seasoned professional who has little else online.

Fall crop: cabbage sprouts

Get your name out there and make a difference in YA: apply to be a CYBILS judge.  Self nominations are due by 30 August.

The winners of the Dayton Literary Peace Prize were recently announced and make wonderful reading choices for young readers.

Don’t leave the young people out of the celebrations of the anniversary of the March on Washington. My favorite post to help bring them into the conversation is Don Tate’s listing of picture and nonfiction books. Throughout the year, educator’s can turn to ALA’s newly released Multi-ethnic books for the middle school curriculum.

We just can’t get around the fact that life is diverse, can we? So many different things to keep us busy!

"Alice's stomach was rumbling like an empty garbage can rolling down a hill..." PIE, Sarah Weeks

"I try to stuff myself between the seats, like coins." EMILY'S DRESS AND OTHER MISSING THINGS, Kathryn Burak

"Majid had a family network as complex and secretive as a walnut shell." THE RUINS OF US, Keija Parssinen

"Her voice sounds as hollow as the empty wasp's nests." CROSSED, Ally Condie

"The day is collapsing into dusk. The Gypsies in their white shirts are the only lamps. The moon is coming in like a pan on fire." SMALL DAMAGES, Beth Kephart

"I lay my hand on my heart. Our parents teach us the very first things we learn. They teach us about hearts. What if I could be treated as though I were small again? What if I were mothered all over again? Might I get my heart back?

My heart is unfolding." CHIME, Franny Billingsley 

"That taste is still in my mouth. I know what it is. It's the taste of pretending. It's the taste of lying. It's the taste of a game that is over." LIAR AND SPY, Rebecca Stead

"In spring, Amherst changes into a storybook. The students grow wings from their heels and run through town spinning and singing. You get the idea that some parts of life are pure happiness, as least for a while. The toy store in the center of town puts all its kites outside, on display, so that the tails and whirligigs can illustrate the wind." EMILY'S DRESS AND OTHER MISSING THINGS, Kathryn Burak 

On an Easter egg hunt

1. While the smell of rain is nice, it's the smell of wet dirt, specifically wet New Mexico dirt that I most enjoy after a rainstorm.
2. My grandmother, mother, and I all have the same middle name.
3. I danced ballet for ten years and dreamed of being a ballerina.
4. I was an exchange student to Australia during my freshman and sophomore years (the school year in the southern hemisphere runs February through December).
5. Avocados are my favorite food.
6. I've been known to laugh uncontrollably at inappropriate times (weddings, church services, while teaching). Once I got the giggles so badly, my students had to walk me through the rest of class. They thought this was loads of fun.
7. Before first grade, I moved back to the US from Saudi Arabia and was convinced the deer crossing sign was a picture of a goat.
8. I helped establish a recycling program in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana, which makes me really proud.
9. I am terrified of first drafts.
10. I hope to end up with gorgeous silver hair someday.

I was interviewed by writer Karin Cameron over at her blog, "Karin Won't Stop Talking".  Go take a look and find out how I got my start as an artist and children's illustrator, and what advice I can give to others in the biz.  Be sure to leave a comment and tell Karin you stopped by.  She is a marvelous host and an awesome writer.

Attention Jacqui's Room reader(s):

I need your help finding something: July.

Like the whole month. I lost mine, apparently, because it's almost over and I can't remember what I did with it.

I mean, from the looks of this blog, you'd think I hadn't posted in two week, when in fact, I have been posting brilliant and hilarious items TWICE DAILY.*

I looked in my bag of marbles and it turns out most of them are lost too.

It's a household wide problem. Yesterday, I listened to Tink and Destructo have an extended argument entitled "Uno: are we or are we not playing with a full deck?"

In other news, I heard an all too familiar thumping and scratching sound in my attic this weekend.** Is it possible a new generation of flightless pigeons is out to get me?! Did they not read this blog last spring? Or do I now, in addition to everything else, literally have bats in my belfry? I will keep you updated.

* In my head.
** No joke. All three of these things actually happened this week. This is my life.
*** Photo from 826michigan's Liberty Street Robot Supply and Repair Store website. You can buy loose screws there, if you don't have enough already.

'Glee' returns (and critics are still singing its praises. Hurrah. Also MTV shows Green Day dude-sical "American Idiot" promotional love, boosting the show's profile before its Broadway debut. MTV launches jerseyshorecasting.com, (a site dedicated... Read the rest of this post

In 2010, I am not going to write every day.

I may yell at my kids. My house may be a mess, my to do list undone, and, yeah, it's been several weeks since you sent that email.

Despite all that, I am going to take a nap. In the middle of the afternoon. On a week day.

I will consume chocolate, doughnuts, caffeine, wine, dry-aged beef, and popcorn doused in real butter and salt.

I will consider "I have to write" and "I need to go for a run" valid excuses for leaving my children, pets, and to do lists in others' care.

I will talk too much. Most often, I will be the weirdest one in the room. Unless my daughter is there, in which case I am a close second.

Sometimes I will stop reading a book even though it's won literary accolades and awards and is an excellent book, simply because I don't feel like reading it. Instead, I will read books written for children decades younger than me. Or I will do the New York Times kenken puzzle.

And, most importantly, in 2010, I am no longer going to beat myself up about any of it.

Not MySpace. My space.

Remember my closet office last summer?

It looked like this.

At least, I think it did. I never really went in there, except to pry open the door, huck something inside, and slam it shut.





Then, I decided to "fix it up" and it looked like this:
Oh, I was so excited then. But eventually, everybody including me went back to using it as a dumping ground and every time I went in there I was assaulted by the mess and the visual reminders of the to do list and aak! Get me out of here!

But writing was like pulling teeth and I was getting to hate my coffee shop. Plus, it's not like the rest of the house wasn't a constant reminder of anything else I could or should be doing. I started dreaming of hotel retreats. I made plans to move into my friend Sharon's tree house. I Googled the (exorbitant) cost of sheds and wondered how to heat them in winter.

Instead, I went mad. I took everything out of my office that didn't have to do with writing. I put it all in the living room. I recycled and trashed a bunch of crap. Then I blew half my latest royalty check on The Chair I Have Been Coveting. And now, ladies and gentlemen, behold. My space.

This is the same view through the door as those other pictures. The desk is around the corner, like this:














I am in love.

Not coincidentally, I wrote many, many words this week.

So I did three wonderful events at the Edinburgh Book Festival back in August, and then the awesome folks at the Scottish Book Trust took me out into the country for a day to meet some young Scottish folk.

One of the towns we visited was Brechin, about 2 hours north of Edinburgh. Now Brechin is an interesting town (populatioon about 7000) for the following reasons:

1. It has a very nice 13th Century cathedral, with a round tower dating from about 1000AD.
2. Robert Watson-Watt, an important pioneer in the early development of radar was born there.
3. As was my great-great-grandfather, William Ross.

William was the illegitimate son of a woman called Jessie Mitchell. He emigrated to Australia as a young man, but his own son moved back to England, before HIS son (my grandfather) moved back to Australia. I had some time to go to the cathedral, and I found this in the churchyard:

It was also really awesome meeting some real live Scottish students, in their second ever week of high school. Here I am with a few of them:


Thanks, Edinburgh Book Festival and Scottish Book Trust for showing me such a great time!

Remember when I got all giddy about 08/08/08? Well, today is even better. Not only is it 09/09/09, but it's also my birthday. Hurrah!

(does silly birthday dance)

Yeah, I still love my birthday like a seven year old princess, because how many other days are ALL ABOUT ME (at least in my mind)?

There shall be raspberry-picking and jam-making and me-worshipping today; you can bet on it. And I will be demanding slobbery toddler birthday kisses and lanky seven year old birthday snuggles.

And, of course, there will be this:*






















Wow. That is like cake porn. I keep re-reading this post just so I can drool at it. Mine won't look that good, but if I lived in St. Paul, I would go right now to Café Latte, on whose website I found this picture, and I would point to my computer screen and say, "That. I want that." And then I would eat it all with a glass of skim milk. And then I would rent a room at the lushest hotel in St. Paul and I would collapse into my featherbed without brushing my teeth and I would sleep until next Friday.

Gordon Thompson is Professor of Music at Skidmore College. His book, Please Please Me: Sixties British Pop, Inside Out, offers an insider’s view of the British pop-music recording industry. Yesterday he puzzled us all with this month’s masterful riddle, below he explains the answer. Were you able to solve it?

Riddle me now, riddle me then,
Can you tell me what again?
Brothers rage against the right,
But this song came before the night.
Not quite crooked, and not perverse;
Replace with “girl,” improve the verse.
Proto-punk, a random slice,
A wild guitar, a roll of the dice.

Forty-five years ago, the summer of 1964 saw the peak of Beatlemania with the release of the film A Hard Day’s Night and its title song. (See last month’s riddle.) Every record producer (called “artist-and-repertoire managers” in the sixties) and would be manager in the United Kingdom scoured the numerous clubs and dance halls looking for the next big act. The previous year had seen bands like Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Searchers rise to prominence along with singers like Billy J Kramer and Dusty Springfield. More acts arrived from the counties almost every week and that summer the Animals from Newcastle (even further north than Liverpool) had a hit with their version of “House of the Rising Sun.”

Nevertheless, everyone had to come to London, the cultural heart of the Isles. To make it, you had to be in the Big Smoke. Not surprisingly, London and vicinity produced its own stars first produced Cliff Bennett and the Rebel Rousers, the Dave Clark Five, and eventually the Rolling Stones, the Nashville Teens, and the Zombies. But perhaps the most English of all these groups, with the songwriter who would come to most confidently speak for the working class suburbs emerged onto the scene in the summer of Beatlemania.

Pye Records had already released disks by one local band, but without much success until 4 August 2009 when the Kinks released “You Really Got Me.”

“Brothers rage against the right,
but this song came before the night.”

The radioactive core of the Kinks, Ray Davies, had had a revelation about songwriting, a burst of insight that left football and art as hobbies. The band’s first release of one of his songs (“You Still Want Me”) had failed miserably, which is unsurprising given that Davies seems to have written it as a kind of imitation of the Beatles. “You Really Got Me” materialized in the front room of his parents’ house when he and his brother Dave began jamming on a two-chord riff, Ray pounding on their piano and Dave playing his guitar through an amp with a ruptured speaker. What began as a kind of shuffle soon clotted into a raw ostinato of such powerful simplicity that the brothers knew immediately they had something that could drive the dancers who came to their shows.

The Davies Brothers came from a working-class family in the North London suburb of Muswell Hill where Ray Davies had his artistic conversion. All he needed to do was find his muse. That muse turned out to be London and the suburban community in which he still lives. At one point in the mid sixties, frustrated by the greed and obfuscations of the music and publishing industries, Davies contemplated abandoning music, only to have his father fly into a rage over his perception that his son was letting the upper class (the “right”) destroy him too. Ray Davies channeled this contempt for class privilege into a celebration of British life, in both its tender moments and its vicious competitiveness.

His producer, Shel Talmy, helped Davies to select his best work and to capture the band’s sound and the American (Talmy came from Los Angeles) and he says he knew “You Really Got Me” would be a hit. With the success of “You Really Got Me,” he wanted another song that sustained that mood. Davies had written “Tired of Waiting,” but Talmy wanted to defer releasing it until that had capitalized on their first success. Thus, “You Really Got Me,” came before the follow-up release, “All Day and All of the Night.”

“Not quite crooked, and not perverse;
Replace with “girl,” improve the verse.”

The band’s name came in part from their appearance. They had played under names like “The Ray Davies Quartet” and “The Ravens,” but sometime in late 1963 they adopted the name “The Kinks,” probably as a description of the leather and high heels that some of the members wore. One of their managers, Larry Page, may have made the name change decision looking for a way to capture audience attention better.

In 1964, a promoter who had signed the Kinks for his shows sought to improve their stage presentations by asking entertainment veteran Hal Carter to coach them. The Kinks had been including an early version of the song in their stage repertoire, but Carter, perhaps confused by the band’s long hair, wondered whether Davies was singing to a male or female: “Jane, Carol, Sue, bint, tart—even jus plain ‘Girl.’ Whatever you do, you have to make it personal.” Davies recalls in his semi-fictional autobiography that “‘Girl instead of ‘Yeah’ mean a lot to me…’”

“Proto-punk, a random slice,
A wild guitar, a roll of the dice.”

Part of the distinctive guitar sound on “You Really Got Me” came because of brother Dave’s tiny Elpico amplifier acting as a preamp to his Vox AC 30 amplifier. Of course, he did not think of it as a “preamp”; he just tried to run a lead from the Elpico’s tiny speaker and plug it into his Vox. In combination with another amplifier, he nearly electrocuted himself; but after replacing the fuses in the family home and some rewiring of the wires connecting the amplifiers, he arrived at a nearly marvelous sound: “nearly marvelous” because he was still dissatisfied. He had no doubt heard of how American blues musicians played with ripped speakers and resolved to get the same sound by using a blade to put a “slice” into the Elpico’s cone. He could only guess at where to put the cut in the speaker paper, but the result—the consequence of a slice rather than a rip—gave his guitar a unique sound that Shel Talmy captured for posterity.

Dave Davies’ fingering technique—in contrast to his brother who had been getting second-hand classical guitar lessons—sought out the most simple of solutions and helped to popularize a style of playing that punk music later championed. Compared to other guitarists playing in London (such as Eric Clapton of the Yardbirds or session musician Big Jim Sullivan), Dave Davies’ approach was primitive. When the time came for his solo, he thrashed away of barely a half-dozen notes, but with all the aggression he could muster as his brother yelled encouragement at him. This recording represented their last best chance of holding on to a recording contract. Their first two releases had been flops. If this third release similarly failed, they might easily have been looking for another record contract, if not careers in commercial art. Instead, “You Really Got Me” rose steadily in first Britain’s charts and then, North America. Within weeks of its release, the recording sat at the top of most pop recording lists, forty-five years ago.

Gordon Thompson is Professor of Music at Skidmore College. His book, Please Please Me: Sixties British Pop, Inside Out, offers an insider’s view of the British pop-music recording industry. Below is a hint to a musical riddle. His introduction is below and be sure to check back tomorrow for the answer and to try his other riddles here. Feel free to guess the answer in the comments.

Sixties British pop created a wealth of musical material that we now describe as classics, not that classicists are likely to embrace them. Not just the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, and the Who, but a wealth of musicians of that era competed to produced recordings that would catch the listening public’s attention, draw them to their concerts, and sell disks. This month’s riddle celebrates another anniversary from that milieu.

Riddle me now, riddle me then,
Can you tell me what again?

Brothers rage against the right,
But this song came before the night.

Not quite crooked, and not perverse;
Replace with “girl,” improve the verse.

Proto-punk, a random slice,
A wild guitar, a roll of the dice.

Cath C. has awarded Jacqui's Room the "One Lovely Blog" award. I'm especially flattered because she tells her readers to come to Jacqui's Room "where everyone is welcome." Something I struggled with starting a blog was how to make sure new people wouldn't feel left out or like something was in process that they couldn't join or shouldn't interrupt. Some blogs, I think, strive to create a community and then end up seeming closed somehow. Or maybe I am just too sensitive.

In any case, I am to tell you seven unknown things about myself. This is difficult because I overshare constantly. But I will try.

1. My second book, TWO OF A KIND, is in stores now!! Look! Here's the cover!

Oh, you knew that? I mentioned it? Ten million times? Oh. Well, did you buy it yet? I've decided to be like NPR's fund-raisers and say that I'll stop blabbing about TWO OF A KIND when I reach my goal...of having every single person in the world own one.




2. I am afraid of dogs. Not individual dogs, but dogs in general. Like, I'm not afraid of Foz, but when I go running, I listen for leashes. Why? Like it's going to help me, what? Outrun any mad pit bull who can't beat a 7:45 mile? It's not rational, but it's true.

3. I am hyper-sensitive to noise. I like loud music and storytelling and the chaos of kids playing, but I can't filter noises well. So at the end of the day, when Thor comes home and puts on loud music to relax and the kids are also talking to me and the cats are meowing and what's that beeping? Who forgot to shut the fridge and why won't my neighbor's poodles stop BARKING?! I go a little nuts.

4. The plus side of this sensory sensitivity is that I have a phenomenal sniffer. Nobody's better at sniffing out spices or yummy smells. Also, I can smell a gas leak a mile away, even ones the gas company swears aren't there and oh look! You got out your little beepy thing to prove I'm crazy and it's going "HEY! GAS LEAK! GET OUT!""

5. I just spent the last twenty minutes thinking of only-slightly-outrageous lies I could put for number five and giggling to myself. Would you have believed me if I told you I once toured with Cirque du Soleil, as co-director of children's special events and occasional clown substitute?

6. I have a tattoo of a dolphin on my hip. I got it when I was 19. When I was 16, I prepared my parents for this eventuality by coming home after a summer away with "I'm a SLAYER woman" tagged graffiti-style in permanent marker across my stomach. I was not a Slayer fan; I just thought it was funny. Dad was not pleased.

7. My sister, Monkey Girl, and I are incredibly, possibly pathologically, close. Why haven't you heard more about her than that she made the make-up lady gasp? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because she's funnier than I am. Maybe it's because to tell you her nickname is Monkey Girl, I'd have to admit mine is Egghead.

I am also to pass the award along, so today, if you haven't already, go check out Murphblog because he always makes me laugh.

And the fog of unmotivated couchpotatoness seems to be lifting; I hope to return to form soon, I promise.

1. Do you know what is the most beautiful thing in my eyes… the reflection of yours.
2. NEVER say NEVER, but say that you love me FOREVER and EVER.
3. I hope you think of me each night before you fall asleep.
4. My heart beats to the rhythm of our love.
5. Love is what I feel when I see you beside me.
6. If you were ice cream, I would melt you with the heat of my love.
7. When you gaze at the stars remember me, for in each one is a kiss for thee.
8. I would ride a rocket to the stars, to be with you when you are far.
9. I was looking for an angel, but I suddenly stopped when you flew into my life.
10. If heaven is full of angels like you, I would ride an air balloon to meet you.

1. Do you know what is the most beautiful thing in my eyes… the reflection of yours.
2. NEVER say NEVER, but say that you love me FOREVER and EVER.
3. I hope you think of me each night before you fall asleep.
4. My heart beats to the rhythm of our love.
5. Love is what I feel when I see you beside me.
6. If you were ice cream, I would melt you with the heat of my love.
7. When you gaze at the stars remember me, for in each one is a kiss for thee.
8. I would ride a rocket to the stars, to be with you when you are far.
9. I was looking for an angel, but I suddenly stopped when you flew into my life.
10. If heaven is full of angels like you, I would ride an air balloon to meet you.

The hilarious, talented and insane Marshall Payne inspired this post. His blog post on Tuesday reminded me that a blog shouldn't be all me, me, me (except of course when it's about me) and that I should set some blog time aside to pimp others. Hence the birth of Somebody Else Saturday TM. Now let me introduce my first victim, ahem, I mean someone you should take a little time to stalk. Oh dear, that doesn't sound any better...

I am fortunate enough to remember Simon Bestwick from way back when he was the editor of the anthology, Oktobyr, in the 1990s. An anthology that attracted the likes of Simon Clark, Jonathan Aycliffe, Tim Lebbon and me. Grins and promises she's not pimping herself, she's only proving that as an editor he attracted the outstanding, the famous (who are also outstanding), and took pity on an unknown because he was kinda cool like that.

This week marks the publication of Simon's short story collection, Pictures of the Dark, published by Gray Friar Press, and the collection was put together by Gary Fry. Hey, how did Gary slip in here, if it can't be about me, then it can't be about him. Boo! :o Maybe I should take away the boo, I shouldn't really antagonise people higher up the food chain than me. Okay, that's everyone. Nice boo!

Here's the blurb from the back of the book:

Tempted. I was, hence the picture of the collection standing just behind Mr. Grim (out of shot, because it's not about him either). Oh dear, my too read pile is set at wobble.

And if the above hasn't tempted you to check out Mr. Bestwick. Perhaps the fact that his novella, The Narrows, has made the British Fantasy Awards 2009 shortlist, or that, The Narrows, has also been selected by Ellen Datlow (I refuse to boo Ms. Datlow for appearing here, instead I'll curtsey) to appear in Best Horror of the Year #1.

Now go stalk him, or buy his book, or lick the copy of Best Horror when it arrives later this year.