Girl Detective

At first glance, John Wray’s Lowboy looked like a run-of-the-mill YA novel–young mentally ill boy gets lost in NYC. It sounded rather like The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time. Then I looked at the reviews, and looked again, because they were impressive–stars from both PW and Kirkus. As it was on The Morning News 2010 Tournament of Books short list, and had a short wait at the library, I decided to give it a try. I’m glad I did; I’d have been sorry to miss this book.

Will Heller is a 16yo schizophrenic who has stopped taking his meds, and run away from his caretakers to ride the NYC subway.

He got on board the train and laughed. Signs and tells were all around him. The floor was shivering and ticking beneath his feet and the brick-tiled arches above the train beat the murmurings of the crowd into copper and aluminum foil. Every seat in the car had a person in it. Notes of music rang out as the doors closed behind him: C# first, then A. Sharp against both ears, like the tip of a pencil. He turned and pressed his face against the glass.

A detective, Ali Lateef, is tasked with finding Will, who is considered an SCM, or Special Category Missing. He meets with Will’s mother and tries to unravel why Will has run away, and more important, whether he’s a danger to himself or others. Chapters of Lateef and the mother in an intricate dance of information alternate with those of Will, nicknamed “Lowboy”, who is convinced that the overheating world is going to end in flames, and that only he and his actions can stop it.

This book is many things: psychological mystery, coming-of-age tale, and meditation on global warming are just a few. Initially, the comparison of Will to a famous NYC roaming schoolkid named Holden was most obvious to me. As the tale unraveled, though, I was put more in mind of Hamlet and Raskolnikov. This is a smart, scary, many-layered tale. I enjoyed and admire it a great deal.

I am FINALLY getting to The Morning News‘ 2010 Tournament of Books short list, after a spate of book group and book-group-book related reading. My hope is to read twelve of the sixteen*. There’s little possibility of me accomplishing all 12 by March 1, when the tourney begins. But darn it, I’m going to try.

First up was Wells Towers’ brief and devastating story collection Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned. No false advertising there; these are bleak, brutal stories. The central characters, young and old, male and female, are struggling to make meaning in their lives, even as any hope flickers and dies. Take the opening paragraph:

Bob Munroe woke up on his face. His jaw hurt and morning birds were yelling and there was real discomfort in his underpants. He’d come in late, his spine throbbing from the bus ride down, and he had stretched out on the floor with a late dinner of two bricks of saltines. Now cracker bits were all over him–under his bare chest, stuck in the sweaty creases of his elbows and his neck, and the biggest and worst of them he could feel lodged deep into his buttock crack, like a flint arrowhead somebody had shot in there.

The writing is spare and sharp, the characters easy to know, the humor dark and fleeting. If you’re looking for a brief, beautifully written collection of ugly stories, this is for you. If you’re feeling fragile? Best stay away.

*I hope to read:

The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood
The Anthologist, by Nicholson Baker
Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth, by Apostolos Doxiadis
The Book of Night Women, by Marlon James
The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver
Big Machine, by Victor Lavalle
Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann
Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel
A Gate at the Stairs, by Lorrie Moore
The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned, by Wells Tower
Lowboy, by John Wray

And am probably not going to try for these, as their descriptions and reviews don’t excite me:

Fever Chart, by Bill Cotter
Miles from Nowhere, by Nami Mun
That Old Cape Magic, by Richard Russo
Burnt Shadows, by Kamila Shamsie

My husband shared this post from Minimal with me. I like it a lot.

This week’s selection for Books and Bars, Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, is a sci-fi classic. It won both the Hugo and the Nebula awards when it came out. The short story it grew out of was published in 1977, the same year Star Wars came to theaters. Card expanded the story to a novel, published in 1985. Ender, a nickname for Andrew, is not unlike Luke Skywalker, or any number of other mythical heroes whose story follows what Joseph Campbell called a monomyth in The Hero with a Thousand Faces:

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.

Ender’s Earth was attacked and almost destroyed twice within the last century by an alien race, called “buggers.” Since then, peace has existed among the countries. Children are monitored for excellence, and a very few are selected for the International Fleet’s battle school. Ender Wiggin is 6 years old. He’s a third child, a rarity, and something not allowed for most people on Earth. His parents were not only allowed, but encouraged to have a third child, after his older brother, Peter, proved a brilliant sociopath and his sister, Valentine, too pacifistic. In conversations between the military adults that preface each chapter, readers learn that Ender is a hoped-for synthesis of his siblings: brilliant and strong and empathic.

As Ender progresses through battle school, he is faced again and again with challenges, some of which are situational, and many of which are manufactured as the adults try to manipulate him into the military leader they hope him to be. Peter and Valentine, meanwhile, take on a challenge of their own when the fragile peace on Earth is threatened. They patiently and thoroughly build reputations for themselves online as political commentators known by the pseudonyms Locke (Peter) and Demosthenes (Valentine). Both siblings continue to affect Ender throughout his education. Peter is the violent killer Ender fears he has become, and Valentine is twice manipulated into urging Ender on in his training.

The book is a chilling meditation on the power adults have over children in the control of environment and information. It also ponders the relation between the military and the state, and what each person owes, or doesn’t, as a citizen. Ultimately, it wonders what it takes to be a killer, and whether killing is an inevitable result, whether out of fear, self-preservation or power. Card’s thorough and complex characterizations of Ender and his siblings, as well as the momentum created by a strong plot, make this an engrossing and provocative read for fans of science fiction and heroic myths, like the Harry Potter saga.

I am assured by fans of the series that the sequel, Speaker for the Dead, not only equals but surpasses and completes the saga begun in Ender’s Game. It, too, won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, the year after Ender’s Game did. There are several more books in the Ender tale, and some about other characters.

I thought everyone else would be watching the Super Bowl. But when I went to see The Hurt Locker at the Riverview, with a small tub of popcorn with real butter and a box of Junior Mints, there were plenty of other people in the theater with me. Alas, the normally stellar Riverview was having some trouble with the sound and the centering of the picture. The sound went buzzy, then unintelligible, just as the main character, played by Jeremy Renner, was introduced. They stopped, started, stopped and started the film again. The sound came back, but there was a chunk we missed. Ah, well, an excuse to see it again, which I’ll be glad to do.

The Hurt Locker is smart, gritty, and doesn’t hammer its themes home. It lets the viewer draw her own conclusions, and some of them are pretty shattering. Renner is excellent, as is the supporting cast, and there are a few cameos that had me saying, “Hey, it’s [so and so]!” Renner’s Will James is an Army detonation expert stationed in Iraq, and the tension that the director, Kathryn Bigelow, keeps up for the length of the film is impressive. Bigelow takes a tight, focused view on one soldier in a specific division, yet the work is probably one of the best on recent wartime; the themes are universal. Depressing, but real. And really, really good.

I recently read Nicole Krauss’ excellent The History of Love. It has a few surprises at the end that made me want to go back to the beginning and start all over again. So I did. I was again impressed by Krauss’ juggling of several narrators, all of which had distinct and believable voices. Additionally, there are echoes of experience among the characters that are fleeting, but serve to underline the themes of connectedness among people, and repetition in history.

Speaking of repetition, this time through I noted how the character of Leo Gursky, the old man, said the same thing many different ways:

“I made up everything” (8)

“sometimes I see things that aren’t there.” (26)

“my head is full of dreams.” (34)

“I told her–not the truth. A story not unlike the truth.” (86)

“The truth is the thing I invented so I could live.” (167)

“I chose to believe what was easier.” (168)

“who is to say that somewhere along the way, without my knowing it, I didn’t also lose my mind?” (169)26)

“The truth is…” (226)

“I knew I was imagining it. And yet. I wanted to believe. So I tried. And I found I could. (228)

“I can barely tell the difference between what is real and what I believe.” (230)

“What if the things I believed were possible were impossible, and the things I believed impossible were possible?” (248)

As I wrote before, I highly recommend The History of Love.

I watched best-screenplay Oscar winner Juno again with my husband G. Grod, who hadn’t seen it, after we saw it on Roger Ebert’s Best Films of the Decade. I’m not sure I agree with Ebert on that, but it is a sweet little film.

Ellen Page is not quite believable as the smart-ass, suddenly pregnant Juno, but Michael Cera is adorable as the geeky boy/friend (this is before he played that role into the ground), Olivia Thirlby is a dream of a best friend, J.K. Simmons is an awesome dad, and Alison Janney is a stepmom for the ages. Even though Juno, both the movie and the character, is too clever by half, with some mouth-crowding unreal dialogue and a plot seized and claimed by anti-choice groups, it nonetheless charms and entertains.

Funny, sweet and a little bit sad, I was surprised to find the best element of the movie was Jennifer Garner’s moving and unshowy performance as the hopeful adopter of Juno’s child. According to imdb trivia:

Jennifer Garner dropped her A-list salary to a percentage point agreement for Juno when it was expected to be a small, low grossing indie film, but the decision paid off when Juno became a breakout smash at the box office - giving Garner her best payday yet.

I did, though, want Garner to unpuff her lips and eat a sandwich or two.

Last weekend I tried to see Avatar, but it was sold out. Instead I saw Crazy Heart, and I wasn’t disappointed. Jeff Bridges is a drunk, has-been country singer who once played to stadiums and now gets booked to bowling alleys. When he’s interviewed by a pretty young journalist, played by Maggie Gyllenhaal, they both see something in the other. Though what she sees in him, with his aging skin puffy with drink and his breath undoubtedly reeking of cigarettes, is more of a stretch than what he sees in her. The love scenes feel a bit creepy because of this, but maybe they’re supposed to. Also, look at all the rock star/supermodel pairings.

The movie covers no new ground; it’s a mash-up of two recent Oscar-bait films, The Wrestler and Walk the Line. It’s not happiness sucking and soul crushing, as I found The Wrestler, though. Instead, like Walk the Line, it’s got a charismatic lead character played well by the actor, supported ably by the female lead and actress, with good music, well performed.

In “When Bad Movies Happen to Good Actors,” Lisa Schwartzbaum from Entertainment Weekly notes why good performances are more likely to get awarded when they’re in good movies,

while acting is a combination of skill and art, an award-worthy performance is an amalgam of science, technology, and luck. And finally, what you think of as a great performance has as much to do with how much you enjoy the whole movie experience – the plot, the music, the quality of the snacks, the smell of the moviegoer to your right – as it does with one actor’s ability to cry and another’s to kickbox or crack eggs. Yes, they’re only movies, but sometimes everything works.

I think Crazy Heart is an example of a solid, well-done movie for which both Jeff Bridges and Maggie Gyllenhaal deserve Oscar nominations. Heck, even Colin Farrell is good in it, as a southern country star!

At NPR’s Monkey See, Joe Reid agrees and counts it among the five non-best-picture nominees that you should see anyway, because of its “strong performances and beautiful music.”

I initially heard about Chop Shop in an article by A.O. Scott, a film reviewer for the New York Times, on the new style of real-life movies, which he termed neo-neo realism:

Chop Shop….seems at once utterly naturalistic and meticulously composed. The main characters are Ale (short for Alejandro), an energetic 12-year-old, and his older sister, Izzy (short for Isamar), who comes to stay with him in his makeshift quarters above the car-repair shop where he does odd jobs. There is no back story – no flashbacks or conversations about how they arrived at this state of virtual orphanhood in the shadow of Shea Stadium – and, at first, only the whisper of a plot.

I more recently read Roger Ebert’s list of the best films of the decade, which includes Chop Shop, and the best films of 2009, which includes Goodbye, Solo, also directed by Ramin Bahrani. Ebert notes that all three of his films, which also include Man Push Cart, are well worth viewing. Since I find Ebert and Scott mostly reliable, I thought it was time to seek one out, and I started with the earliest, 2007’s Chop Shop.

Chop Shop is a beautifully shot, meditative (i.e. not fast-paced) film. Ale and his sister are sweet and heartbreaking. Yet the film isn’t dragged down by irony or bitterness. Instead it’s buoyed, not exactly by hope, but by a kind of philosophical shrug that life goes on, and there are pretty good things in it even among the junk. Recommended, if you’re in the mood for a small, well-crafted indie film.

My husband G. Grod recommended Walter Miller Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz to me several years ago. M, who blogs at Mental Multivitamin, read it within the past year or so (ha! in 2005, actually. I have a long memory, I guess.) and recommended it, then a review at Semicolon intrigued me, so it crept up my to-read list. After my recent reading and appreciating of Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic The Road, I moved it to the top of the list. (Bonus for us book geeks–it’s a shelf sitter, so I’m reading a book from home, rather than a new purchase or one from the library.)

The book opens in the 26th or 27th century. A novice monk, Brother Francis, is doing a Lenten hermitage in the desert, when he encounters a wanderer, and then comes across an archeologic find from before the Flame Deluge that took place in the 20th century. Francis’ order is of Leibowitz, a 20th century scientist and martyr whom they’re trying to have canonized. The book is divided into three sections, which I won’t detail as it might spoil an event I found truly shocking and moving. But the central question is whether history must repeat itself:

Listen, are we helpless? Are we doomed to do it again and again and again? Have we no choice but to play the Phoenix in an unending sequence of rise and fall? Assyria, Babylon, Egypt, Greece, Carthage, Rome, the Empires of Charlemagne, and the Turk. Ground to dust and plowed with salt. Spain, France, Britain, America–burned into the oblivion of the centures. And again and again and again. (245)

This is a satire of Catholicism, while making the monks and abbots of Leibowitz sympathetic, conflicted and complicated. It’s a post-apocalyptic novel, as well as a theological and philosophical one. I’m off to review the legend of the “wandering Jew,” which might have enriched my reading experience if I’d had it in my mind from the beginning. This book made me feel, made me think, and continues to make me think. While we’re fortunate to have avoided a nuclear war in the 20th century, this novel retains a timeless quality as the threat remains, still, and other questions, like the ethics of euthanasia and the dangers and benefits of progress, remain relevant today.

I’d been meaning to read Nicole Krauss’ History of Love for a while; some trusted friends like Duff had recommended it; that’s her lovely photo above. So when it was a choice for the Twin Cities’ book group Books and Bars, I decided to give it a go. I started a copy I got from the library, but wasn’t able to finish by the time it was due; no renewals were allowed, as it had a wait list. So I bought a copy, and am glad I did. The History of Love is not long, but it’s deep and complex, and I can’t wait to read it again.

The book begins in the voice of Leo Gursky, an elderly Holocaust survivor afraid of dying unnoticed in New York City. He devises behavioral schemes to make himself noticed–spills things in stores, talks in movies, falls down on the street. Krauss swiftly and skillfully makes an annoying person a sympathetic one. Leo is funny, and he’s a writer. He also has a complicated history of love. He loved a woman once, but she went to America and married another.

Leo’s sections alternate mostly with those of Alma, a young Jewish girl whose mother is a translator of books, and whose father died early in her childhood. Alma writes notes to herself disguised as a survival notebook, and she has a fragile relationship with her brother Bird, who thinks he is a lamed vovnik, one of 36 chosen ones on Earth.

Bird gets a section, and the fictional book by the character Zvi Litvinoff, History of Love, gets a few, too. Yet the changes in voice and setting were never confusing, though I can’t say that about the book as a whole. The obfuscation is deliberate, though, as boundaries and stories are blurred and mixed. Events build momentum to a powerful conclusion, one that made me want to turn back and begin all over again. That this thought made me happy to do so, and that I think I’ll do so after I finish my current book, is a mark of how highly I admire and enjoyed The History of Love. Krauss’ husband, Jonathan Safran Foer, is the more famous novelist, but I wonder if Krauss might be the more skilled. This book made me think and feel, as well as go off in search of more information. Highly recommended.

Marganita Laski’s Little Boy Lost was actually a gift for my husband G. Grod nearly six years ago. I was at the Persephone Books shop on Lamb’s Conduit Lane, chatting with Nicola, and told her I’d left my 9mo son at home with my husband to attend a friend’s wedding. She urged Laski’s book on me as a gift for him. Once I described it to him, though, G. had no interest in reading what sounded like his worst nightmare–a father’s search for his lost son during wartime.

(G is rather more the worrying parent than I am. Which is odd, since it’s contrary to our regular-life personalities.)

So LBL languished on the shelf these past several years. Recently Jessa Crispin at Bookslut read it, loved it, and reviewed it at NPR. The book inched into a forward part of my brain. Then when I read The Road last month for Books & Bars in Minneapolis, with its fraught portrayal of a father/son bond in a dangerous time, LBL jumped the queue.

It was not at all what I expected, which was something like a hard-working soldier returns from the war to find his young son missing, then goes off to find him, at all costs. Instead, Little Boy Lost is far more interesting and complex. Hilary Wainwright had an English desk job in the war. He learns his wife, who’s remained in France, has been killed by German troops, and believes his son dead, too. When he learns his son is lost and perhaps not dead, he can hardly bring himself to hope, as he’s so steeled himself against loss and disappointment. When an acquaintance tells him he has a lead, Hilary does not rush off, but instead waits until the war is over, and even then drags his feet, conflicted with guilt and duty.

It was nearly a year since Pierre had first written, and now Hilary had been demobilised for a week and his excuse no longer held good; and Pierre had lately written that he must come soon, if ever.

For he would never wish Pierre to know his deep unwillingness to undertake this search.

He said to himself, It’s been so long now since the boy was lost. I’ve had over two years to make myself invulnerable to emotion. I can do without comfort now. I am content to live in my memories. All that is important now is that no one should disturb my memories. (28-9)

Hilary meets an orphan boy named Jean who is the right age. But Jean remembers none of his past, and bears no resemblance to Hilary or his dead wife. Hilary struggles whether to take the boy even though he’s not sure Jean is his son. He longs for a simple, childless life with his present girlfriend in England after the war.

I’m used to the Mel Gibson/Liam Neeson revenge pic where someone’s child is kidnapped or killed, and the father tears off with vengeance. My husband assures me this is a modern plot constructed for corporately powerless cube jockeys like himself. Instead, LBL is a book of its time, post WWII. Like noir books and films of the same era, its hero is ambivalent, and complicated. There’s even sort of a femme fatale near the end who leads the hero astray. The tension about what will happen is drawn out skillfully to the very end, at which point the author pulls off one of the sharpest endings I’ve experienced. This book is a gem and a keeper, as well as a fascinating contrast to The Road.

Layered Winter Salad with Pita and Hummus adapted from Food Matters “Hummus with Pita and Greens” Makes 4 to 6 servings

For the pita with hummus:

4 to 6 Holy Land whole wheat pitas , toasted or not
25 oz. can Westbrae chickpeas, rinsed and drained
Juice of one lemon, about 2 tablespoons
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
¼ cup olive oil
¼ teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup water, or to taste

Combine chickpeas, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper in food processor. Process till combined but chunky. Add water gradually and blend to desired consistency. Refrigerate any leftover hummus.

For the salad:

1 bunch Living Waters hydroponic greens, stemmed and washed
½ cucumber, sliced thinly
½ Beauty Heart radish, peeled and grated
2 carrots, peeled and grated
2 stalks celery, sliced thinly on the diagonal
Asian pear, peeled and sliced thinly
6 kumquats, sliced thinly
handful Kalamata olives, pitted and sliced

For the dressing:

2 tablespoons olive oil
½ tablespoon red wine vinegar
½ tablespoon lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper

You can toss, then dress the salad to taste, and serve atop whole pitas with hummus. You can layer the ingredients and add dressing after. You can quarter the pitas with hummus and serve alongside the salad. Or you can buy pocket pitas, smear hummus inside and fill with salad for a lunchbox sandwich.

Power Protein Salad, adapted from Food Matters “Tabbouleh, My Way” Makes 6 to 8 servings

1 cup quinoa, rinsed
1/3 cup olive oil
¼ cup lemon juice
¼ teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper to taste

2 carrots, peeled and grated
½ cucumber, sliced into rounds then quartered
2 15-oz can Westbrae beans, drained and rinsed; I used black and soy
½ Beauty Heart radish, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes
¼ cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
¼ cup finely chopped mint
½ cup crumbled feta, goat cheese, or tofu
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
1 tablespoon toasted sunflower seeds
handful Greek olives, pitted and sliced

1. Place quinoa in a small saucepan with 2 cups water and a pinch of salt. Bring to boil over medium heat, lower heat and cover for about 15 minutes, or until rings separate from grains. Drain if necessary. In large bowl, add oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Can be refrigerated if not eating immediately.

2. Before serving, mix in all other ingredients. Toss gently and serve.

A few years ago, as I wrote previously, my husband G. Grod and I saw a television commercial for Chex cereal that equated making Chex Mix with being a mother. It concerned me; I was a mother, yet I’d never made Chex mix. I set about to remedy that at the same time I was reading The Fabulous Bouncing Chowder to now 6yo Drake, and he re-named the Chex mix (or Chex-cereal-imitator mix) Snarf Snacks, after the doggie treats in the book. The name stuck, and I experimented until I came up with the following sweet snack mix.

Girl Detective’s Sweet Spicy Snarf Snacks

(shown with dried cherries, pecans and dark chocolate candy)

1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
2 tablespoons flax meal
2 tablespoons shredded coconut

6 cups Chex-like cereal (I use Cascadian Farms Multigrain Squares)
1 cup nuts: walnuts, pecans, peanuts or almonds
1 cup small pretzels
1 cup chow mein noodles

1/2 cup dried fruit: cherries, blueberries, raisins, cranberries, whatever you like
1/2 cup semi- or bitter-sweet chocolate chips

1. Heat over to 250F. Grease large roasting pan or rimmed baking sheet.

2. Combine first 8 ingredients in small saucepan. Heat to boil, stir to combine, take off heat and let cool slightly.

3. In large glass bowl, mix cereal, nuts, pretzels and noodles.

4. Pour sauce over; mix until evenly distributed (I used my hands.)

5. Bake 45 minutes in prepared pan, stirring every 15 minutes to prevent burning. Cool about 15 minutes, then stir in fruit and chips. Store in an airtight container.

This recipe is extremely adaptable. Don’t like my spices? Try other ones. Add ingredients, use M & Ms instead of chips, as I did for the picture above, don’t use ingredients you don’t like or can’t find. For those interested in savory, Cook’s Country has a good recipe for Asian Firecracker Mix with wasabi peas, which I wrote about here.

Move over, Curious George. There’s a new monkey in town. His name is Chico Bon Bon, he is a Monkey with a Tool Belt, and he is AWESOME.

Here is Chico Bon Bon. He is a monkey. Chico is a monkey with a tool belt. He is quite handy with tools. He builds and fixes all sorts of things.

The list and illustration of Chico’s belt is impressively detailed and hilarious. There are rhymes and riffs, with real and imaginary tools. We get to know Chico a little, then something happens:

One day, Chico noticed a banana split on a tiny table across the road from his house.

“That’s peculiar”

He went over to investigate.

What transpires is a simply written and cleverly drawn adventure story. Chico is a smart protagonist; kids and parents alike will cheer for him. In the sequel, Monkey with a Tool Belt and the Noisy Problem, Chico is bothered by mysterious sounds in his house, and frustrated:

But Chico couldn’t use his tool to FIX the noisy problem, because he couldn’t FIND the noisy problem.

The reveal is priceless. My 3 and 6yo boys and I burst out laughing. Monroe’s simple text, funny stories, and distinctive line drawings in bright color have made these new family favorites.

6yo Drake picked up Meno: Wet Friend! by Tony and Angela Deterlizzi from our public library. It stood out on the shelf; it’s small, bright and visually striking. As it notes on the cover, it’s “presented in vibrant Meno-Color!” What was inside, though, was initially disarming, and eventually charming. We quickly borrowed book one, Big Fun! Short, simple sentences sound like Japanese translated to English:

It is sunshine time in the house of Meno.

The art shows the influence of Japanese manga and has a 50’s retro, Astro Boy style. Meno is a cartoony kid with big eyes and a bigger head; he wears a school uniform and beanie, and is an elf from outer space. His best friend is Yamagoo, a floating, bespectacled sea creature. In Book One: Big Fun! Meno searches for Yamagoo, finds him, talks about breakfast:

We enjoy moo juice and dough with hole.

then announces it is time for big fun. I won’t spoil the joke, but Meno’s idea of fun was very funny to my 3 and 6yo boys.

In Wet Friend! Yamagoo wants a sea-faring companion, and several are offered, including one that’s clearly a shout-out joke to parents, as is the fractured English.

My 3 and 6yo boys laughed a great deal at the pictures, the silly language, and the jokes. These books are so simple they don’t even have a story, but they nonetheless got picked again and again at bedtime by my boys. We found them bizarre, but entertaining. Public reaction varies widely in the customer reviews at amazon.com, though the editorial reviews are full of praise. Many criticize their lack of story, poor English grammar and toddler humor. Others, as we did, find them weird but funny.

You can check out the artwork and style at PlanetMeno.com. Tony DiTerlizzi is the author and illustrator of the Spiderwick Chronicles, but this is for a much younger audience, and was inspired by the couples 2yo daughter.

Continuing my way through Baked: New Frontiers in Baking by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito, I wanted to give the Monster Cookies a try. Once I suggested it and showed him the picture, 3yo Guppy would not rest until we made the “M & M cookies.” Alas, he had a very hard time understanding the 5 hour refrigeration time, but I did eventually get these made. It uses nearly 6 cups of oats, 3 cups of sugar, 2 cups of peanut butter and 5 eggs. Monstrous, indeed.

Monster Cookies, from Baked

This cookie is the Frankenstein’s monster of the cookie world. One part oatmeal cookie, one part peanut butter cookie, and one part chocolate chip cookie, it is many things to many people. We re-created this rather large, chewy cookie as an homage to the Monster Cookies we remember eating in grade school, only our version is slightly less sweet and a whole lot better. Don’t leave out the corn syrup – it’s integral for the cookie.

Ingredients
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking soda
Pinch of salt
5 3/4 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
5 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon light corn syrup
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups creamy peanut butter
1 cup (6 ounces) semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup (6 ounces) M&M’s

Method
Baked by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito1. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, and salt together. Add the oats and stir until the ingredients are evenly combined.

2. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter until smooth and pale in color. Add the sugars and mix on low speed until just incorporated. Do not overmix.

3. Scrape down the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating until smooth (about 20 seconds) and scraping down the bowl after each addition. Add the corn syrup and vanilla and beat until just incorporated.

4. Scrape down the bowl and add the peanut butter. Mix on low speed until just combined. Add the oat mixture in three additions, mixing on low speed until just incorporated.

5. Use a spatula or wooden spoon to fold in the chocolate chips and M&Ms. Cover the bowl tightly and refrigerate for 5 hours.

6. Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

7. Use an ice cream scoop with a release mechanism to scoop out the dough in 2-tablespoon-size balls onto the prepared baking sheets, 2 inches apart. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through the baking time, until the cookies just begin to brown. Let cool on the pans for 8 to 10 minutes before transferring the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.

8. Cookies can be stored in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

I used brown rice syrup instead of corn syrup to good effect. The recipe made nearly 40 cookies, so there were plenty to share. The cookies were well received by everyone but me. I longed instead for my favorite local cookie, the Thunder Cookie from Positively 3rd Street Bakery in Duluth, which has fewer oats and no M & Ms. To each her own monster cookie, I guess.

At The Morning News, they’ve published the short list of 16 novels for the literary March Madness Tournament of books.

The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood
The Anthologist, by Nicholson Baker
Fever Chart, by Bill Cotter
Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth, by Apostolos Doxiadis
The Book of Night Women, by Marlon James
The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver
Big Machine, by Victor Lavalle
Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann
Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel
A Gate at the Stairs, by Lorrie Moore
Miles from Nowhere, by Nami Mun
That Old Cape Magic, by Richard Russo
Burnt Shadows, by Kamila Shamsie
The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned, by Wells Tower
Lowboy, by John Wray

The long list had some puzzling exclusions, like Jeff in Venice; Death in Vanasi, and In Other Rooms, Other Wonders, both of which were on my to-read list from last year. The jump from long to short has me puzzled as well. I’m disappointed these didn’t make the cut: Await Your Reply, Dan Chaon, Trouble, Kate Christensen, The Believers, Zoe Heller, Chronic City, Jonathan Lethem, The City & The City, China Mieville, Lark and Termite, Jayne Anne Phillips, This Is Where I Leave You, Jonathan Tropper, and The Little Stranger, Sarah Waters. All these sounded promising to me when they came out last year.

Further, I’m stymied by the inclusion of these: Fever Chart, Bill Cotter, The Book of Night Women, Marlon James, Miles from Nowhere, Nami Mun, and Burnt Shadows, Kamila Shamsie. These, over the ones in the previous paragraph?

Finally, I’m not thrilled to see either Lorrie Moore’s A Gate at the Stairs or Russo’s That Old Cape Magic. Neither are supposed to be the writer at the top of her/his game, so I can’t get excited to read them.

That said, I AM excited to try and read as many as I can of these, all of which I’ve heard good things about: The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood, The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker, Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth by Apostolos Doxiadis, The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver, Big Machine by Victor Lavalle, Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann (also a selection of Books and Bars), Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel (which lit friends Amy R and Kate F both liked), The Help by Kathryn Stockett, Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned by Wells Tower, and Lowboy by John Wray.

I’m off to put some books in my queue at the library. Who’s going to be joining the fray?

On a recent Saturday night, my husband G. Grod and I sat down to watch the Doctor Who David Tennant finale, “The End of Time part two.” We’d not been thrilled with part 1, so were hoping for a strong finish. We got what we felt was a stronger, yet not really a strong, finish. The scenes with Wilf were worth the price of admission, though, especially the final scene. As we knew would happen in the end, David Tennant began to glow and writhe, and suddenly there was a new guy standing there, apparently disappointed he wasn’t a redhead. (Videos here.)

I’m still not ginger.

G and I switched off the television, expressed our mild disappointment, voiced hope for Matt Smith, the new Dr. Who, and the new show runner, Steven Moffat, then I got up to go upstairs. I rounded the corner, and nearly fell over in surprise.

There was 6you Drake, staring at me with wide eyes. (For those who have seen Drake, you know he has huge eyes to begin with.)

“You scared the daylights out of me! What are you doing up?” I said, startled and displeased.

Drake held up his hand as if to ward off a scolding. “Mom, what was all that light coming out of that guy’s head? And why was there a different guy there?”

I put my hand to my forehead. G. asked, “How long have you been there?” but we both knew it had probably been for nearly the entire not-6yo-appropriate show. G chastised himself for not checking; he’d heard a noise earlier, and thought Drake had run downstairs to get a book or toy. I gave G a wave meant to convey, “no use now; let’s just get on with it” and herded Drake upstairs.

“It was energy coming out of his head,” I told him, “and the new guy was a different body, not a different person.” Drake seemed placated by this. When he put his head down on the pillow, he shot right back up again.

“I can see him!” he said, excitedly.

“Who?” I asked, pun unintended.

“The guy with the light in his head!” Drake continued to put his head down, pop it up and count till finally G and I left, as Drake didn’t seem much bothered by THE SCARY IMAGE SEARED UPON HIS BRAIN. The next day he told me he’d seen the face 31 times.

I’m not sure if it makes it more or less annoying, and more or less amusing, but Drake did the same thing a year and a half ago, for one of the season finale episodes with the Daleks. He snuck down, hid for most of the show, was discovered at the end, and pestered us with questions about the weird machines with the weird voices.

Please remind me to keep an eye out for him at the end of Season 5. I think he’s gaining his geek bona fides, though.

Another one from Lauren Chattman’s Cake-Keeper Cakes, Nutella-Swirl Pound Cake was a hit at the gathering I brought it to. I’ve adapted it though. The original recipe calls for two layers of Nutella and says to swirl them. As you can see in my photo and the one at Food & Wine, the Nutella sinks, so I think it would be improved by having only one unswirled layer. Another caution: the Nutella is oily, and this skewed the tester, as it came out clean before the cake was quite done.

* ACTIVE: 20 MIN
* TOTAL TIME: 2 HRS 2 hr plus 2 hr cooling
* SERVINGS: Makes one 9-by-5-inch loaf

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
4 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 1/4 cups sugar
One 13-ounce jar Nutella

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 325°. Lightly grease and flour a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan, tapping out any excess flour. In a glass measuring cup, lightly beat the eggs with the vanilla. In a medium bowl, whisk the 1 1/2 cups of flour with the baking powder and salt.

2. In a large bowl, using a handheld mixer, beat the butter with the sugar at medium-high speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes. With the mixer at medium-low speed, gradually beat in the egg mixture until fully incorporated. Add the flour mixture in 3 batches, beating at low speed between additions until just incorporated. Continue to beat for 30 seconds longer.

3. Spread two-thirds of the batter in the prepared pan, then spread the Nutella on top. Top with the remaining batter.

4. Bake the cake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, until a toothpick inserted shallowly (i.e. above the Nutella layer if possible) in the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Invert the cake onto a wire rack, turn it right side up and let cool completely, about 2 hours. Cut the cake into slices and serve. The pound cake can be kept in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Chattman says this is good with strong coffee ice cream. I found ice cream, either vanilla or coffee, overkill. (And if you know me, you know that this is a rare, rare thing for me to say.) This is a seriously rich, sweet cake, and doesn’t need much to complement it other than a good, not-too-sweet cup of coffee.