A Mother’s New Day

  The children are up, They’re awake, they’re alive! Our morning’s begun, One giant beehive.   Breakfast has started, With two kids in the glue, Put that away, That isn’t for you!   A sock on the stove, One kiss on the nose, Two children are crying, One’s eating his toes.   Put that away!…

Sagas of the Icelanders

Vikings. Epic journeys. Revenge. Love. Feuds. Strange gods and beautiful (very intelligent and occasionally magical) women. What more can you ask from a book? (Did I mention the Vikings? Real Vikings. Sold.) I’ve been eyeing this book for a long time, tempted by the gorgeous cover and the mixture of history and myth, two of…

Glass Butterflies

They live in the greenhouse at the base of the cliffs. The blackened crags rise above it, glistening and wet with the spray of the sea, and the cry of the gulls fills the air. The greenhouse is abandoned, has been for as long as I can remember. No one goes there. Not anymore. No…

Just So Stories

Storytelling is an art. Some books are a little slapdash in their approach, a little clumsy. Some are all about the story and the characters, with little or no interest in how it is presented. The words are just that. Words. Tools to get the idea across and nothing more. Their stories are fast-paced and…

The Well

The dogs are behind me. I can hear them baying in the trees, barking and howling as the scent of my blood drives them wild. They’re close now, too close, and I curse myself for a fool for coming out in broad daylight. I know better. The well is abandoned, covered in flowering vine and…

Henry and Ribsy

How many favorite authors is one person allowed to have? I’m hoping the number isn’t too low. For me, there’s going to have to be some kind of extension on my limit, because I can think of ten or twelve authors right now that would—and should—be right on top of that list. Some of them…

Painter

I set up my easel between a booth selling flowers and a clown selling balloon animals. Benjamin, I think his name is. I saw him last time I came to this fair. A nice man. The woman with the flowers looks more intimidating. She casts a quick look at my portfolio of caricatures and sniffs,…

The Gap In My Shelves

I’m going to do something totally weird. I mean, seriously? Who writes a blog post on a book that they can’t remember? Desperate people, that’s who. This post is about the gap in my shelves, about the book that should be in there but isn’t. It’s about the book I lost. Weird, right? But bear…

Ghost

She comes in the night, after all the others are sleeping. I hear her slip past my door, climb the stairs over my room to the attic. The hollow boards creak under her weight. She doesn’t make much noise. None of the others have ever heard her, but I hear her every night. Sometimes, I…

Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children

As I have gotten older, I’ve gotten more picky about the books I read. It’s actually kind of a sad reality for me. Not every book that I pick up is as fantastic and amazing as I want it to be. Sometimes—horribly—I don’t finish the books I pick up. It is my firm belief that…