What the kids are reading these days, literally

SF's public schools let out on May 25, so it seems like a fine time to check in on what the kids are reading this summer.  To that end, here are Green Apple's top ten books for young adults and for younger readers.

Young Adult/Middle Grade:

1. Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
2. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
3. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
4. Out of My Mind by Sharon Draper
5. Serpent's Shadow by Rick Rioirdan
6. LEGO Ninjago: Rise of the Snakes by Tracey West
7. LEGO Ninjago: the Golden Weapons by Tracey West
8. The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart
9. Enchantress by Michael Scott
10. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

Young Readers/Picture Books:

1. Oh, the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss (a perennial graduation gift)
2. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? (Slide and Find edition) by Bill Martin, Jr. and Eric Carle
3. The Monster at the End of This Book by Michael Smollin
4. All Around the World by Geraldine Cosneau
5. Inside Freight Train by Donald Crews
6. Pierre, a Continuous Tale in Five Chapters and a Prologue by Maurice Sendak (RIP)
7. Hug Time by Patrick McDonnell
8. The Feelings Book by Todd Parr
9. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle 
10. The Boy Who Cried Ninja by Alex Latimer

As always, we're here with suggestions for kids of any age!

Your Mother Should Know

...by now, if you got her a subscription to the Apple-a-Month Club for Mothers Day last month. So now we can tell you all about May's (topical) subscription book, which was The Book of My Mother by Albert Cohen, translated by his wife and published in a lovely new edition by Archipelago Press. 

 Albert Cohen's The Book of My Mother defies classification, as a tribute to the complexities and depth of familial love should. Part memoir, part novel, and written originally as a collection of richly narrative and descriptive essays, the book is both the story of Cohen's relationship with and loss of his mother (who died shortly after he had left France for London to escape the Nazis during World War II) and a meditation on grief, family, exile and isolation. While you should probably keep tissues handy, there's great joy here, too -- Cohen, who once claimed that his true homeland was the French language, relays his often playful love for his mother in what seems to be a love affair with the sentence itself, each remarkably crafted and full of wit and wonder. Both a timely and timeless read for the month of Mothers Day.

Which brings us to the here and now, which is, in a happy coincidence (er, Hallmark scam, or whatever) the month of Fathers Day. If you're still looking for a gift for your old man, the Apple-a-Month-Club might be just the thing (though, as far as we know, there isn't a "Book of my Father" coming out this month, except this one, which is of course very serious and hard-hitting non-fiction and therefore disqualified.) In any case, imagine the look of delight on any loved one's face when they see this:

Subscribe, or just stay tuned for next month to find out what we send out in June (bearing in mind, of course, that what makes mail better than blog posts is that, uh,  it comes in the mail.)

Question your teaspoons: an interview with Daniel Levin Becker

Daniel Levin Becker, San Francisco resident and Believer magazine reviews editor, is the author of a recently published study of the Oulipo, Many Subtle Channels. For those unfamiliar, the Oulipo--an acronym for Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, which translates into something like the "Workshop for Potential Literature"--is a predominantly French group whose members explore and expand the possibilities of literature by employing various formal constraints. These constraints range from the simple (for example, the procedure n+7 involves replacing every noun in a text with the 7th following it in the dictionary, a process that often yields inspired results) to the elaborate (see this list of some of the rules followed in the composition of the uber-Oulipian Life A User's Manual). All constraints serve to extend the boundaries of literature and bypass the old Romantic saw of "writer's block."

It's likely that you've read work by a member of the Oulipo, perhaps without being aware of it. Italo Calvino is a member (once a member, always a member), as are Georges Perec, Harry Mathews, and Raymond Queneau--one of the group's co-founders, in fact, as well as author GAB favorite, the irrepressible Zazie in the Metro.

Daniel, who was inducted into the Oulipo in 2009, kindly agreed to answer a handful of questions about his book, the history of the Oulipo, what the group can do for you, and some of the books that have had a lasting impact on him.

*

Green Apple Books: Throughout the book, you offer several definitions of the Oulipo. Are any of these definitions more apt than others? Have you formulated your own response to the (this) inevitable question of "What is the Oulipo"?

Daniel Levin Becker: I usually go with some variation of "a research group of writers and scientists whose collective subject of inquiry is the literary potential of mathematical structures." Sometimes--okay, often--I replace "research group of writers and scientists" with "bunch of nerds."

GAB: Can you tell us a little about how the Oulipo is constituted? How does one become a member of the group? How does one avoid becoming a member (or remaining a member after one is inducted)?

DLB: One becomes a member first by attending one of the Oulipo's monthly meetings as a guest of honor and presenting whatever it is of one's work that dovetails with oulipian interests, then by being unanimously elected by the group. One can avoid becoming a member very easily: by asking to be a member and thereby becoming permanently ineligible for membership. After one is inducted one cannot quit or be kicked out; the only official way to leave the group is to commit suicide for no purpose other than to leave the group, and to do so in the presence of a notary. A few people have distanced themselves from the group's activities by just sort of ceasing to participate, but they're still officially considered members, just inactive ones. This includes dead members.

GAB: You make a pretty sustained case in the book as to how and why an admittedly obscure French literary group has relevance to more than a coterie of like-minded enthusiasts. Can you briefly sum up this argument and tell us what an awareness or appreciation of oulipian methods can offer the "average reader"?

DLB: It's not mine to make, but I buy pretty wholeheartedly into the argument that creativity thrives on rules and constraints, and that there are rules and constraints in virtually everything we do--so there's potential for organized play, i.e. games, all around us. For me the games usually have to do with language, and are usually pretty momentary--but what's cool about this line of thinking is that (a) it can be anything with rules and (b) it doesn't have to be momentary, that you could use those rules to build something much bigger if you were so inclined. Consider La Disparition [Georges Perec's e-less novel, translated as A Void].

Irredeemably nerdy example of how this plays out: I passed someone on the street the other day wearing a muscle T-shirt that said "FUCK SLEEVES" and immediately (well, after thinking "that is awesome") thought of the band Fuck Buttons. And I got a few moments of joy from the contrast of those two structurally identical but culturally different phrases: why is it that on a T-shirt "fuck" reads as a verb and in a band name it seems like a functional attribute (i.e., "just press the fuck button")? What if you switched those roles and made "fuck buttons" a chant among rioting zipper industry workers, and "fuck sleeves" a really crude name for fishnet stockings? You could go pretty far with that little game (although I think it's probably pretty obvious why I let it remain momentary in this case). That's the "potential" part. 

Anyway, I think the idea of potential is mostly just that structures are there for you to play with in whatever way makes you happy and creatively productive. It's not just about creativity, though, for me and for most of the people in the book: to some degree we like games because there are rules and we're not faced with the complete uncertainty of the real entropic world, and by the same token there's something existentially reassuring about the idea that there are solutions to be found, the way there are solutions to math problems, even (or maybe especially) if you're only solving problems you set for yourself. 

I promise this is all explained more eloquently in the book. 

GAB: What's your favorite book by an Oulipian?

DLB: In an effort to be unpredictable, I'm going to say Calvino's t-zero. It's not actually very oulipian, just nerdy and brilliant. Ask me tomorrow, of course, and I'll probably have a different answer.

GAB: What are you reading now?

DLB: I'm a ridiculously sidetrackable reader these days, but I just read Gianni Rodari's Lamberto Lamberto Lamberto (tr. Antony Shugaar) and I have open and active dossiers on Jennifer Dubois's A Partial History of Lost Causes and Sergio de la Pava's A Naked Singularity.

GAB: And, if the answer is different from the above, which oulipian book has had the biggest effect on you?

DLB: If you'll permit me the mischievous technicality of interpreting "oulipian book" as "book in the oulipian mode" rather than "book by a member of the Oulipo," I'll go with Nabokov's Pale Fire, thanks to which I discovered that the structures surrounding the apparent story--the paratexts, as I would later learn to call them thanks to the extraordinarily dense book by that name by Gérard Genette--could be just as interesting and dramatic, if not more so. 

GAB: Finally, if you could have a Staff Favorite at the store, what would you pick?

DLB: Is it too late for [John D'Agata's] The Lifespan of a Fact? I geeked out on that book hard.

GAB: It's not too late. We geeked out on that pretty hard too.

___

N.B. -- An extended interview will soon be available on Writers No One Reads.

in Praise of Pippi

My family and I are trading houses with a family in southern Sweden this summer, and, in preparation, I was searching for some leads on Swedish literature (aside from the obvious Stieg Larsson).  And my kids are at the age when they're leaning away from picture books and into chapter books--things like Ramona the Brave, Homer Price, and Ivy and Bean have been big hits of late.  Which led us to Pippi Longstocking.

Now Pippi has always been somewhere in my cultural memory, but I had yet to read this book until last week.  Don't make the same mistake.

If you:

• have kids ages 5-7, read this to them.
• have kids ages 8-10, buy it (or get it from the library) for them.
• ever read youth literature, treat yourself to this wonderful book.

Why?  It's jolly good fun.  

Pippi is a young girl living with no parents, just her horse and monkey.  She possesses superhuman strength, and she often mocks convention (which the kids will love, of course).  She's fiercely loyal to her next-door neighbor kids, Tommy and Annika, and she leads them on a series of adventures that are a joy to follow.

I'm not sure what this book's central place on lists of Swedish literature says about the Swedish people, but I'm looking forward not only to our visit this summer, but to the next two books in Pippi's series.

Two New Books I Really Like (With Pictures)

It's been a bit of a whirlwind day/week/month here at Green Apple, and sort of in my life, too. So perhaps it's in search of some simplicity that now, sitting down to blog, all I want to do is tell you all about two of my favorite new books, and to show you what beautiful pictures they have. Don't be fooled, though -- though both of these books are heavily illustrated in some form, they are Very Serious (but oh so delightful) Books. 

The first is Antigonick, the hotly anticipated (er, hotly anticipated by me) new translation/interpretation of  Sophocles' tragedy by the incomparable Anne Carson (and published, beautifully, by New Directions). Re-working a classic tale is nothing new for Carson, a classical scholar whose work often either references, re-tells, or analyzes ancient Greek literature, but her particular style of translation is so unique, poetic and adaptive that it must be read as poetry all its own (creative liberties included -- as in her previous work, Carson often alters the spellings of characters' names and broadens the restrictions of space and time, allowing her, in this case, to reference to Samuel Beckett and Virginia Woolf in the first five pages of a story from 440 BCE.) What really makes this book a lovely object to leaf through, though, is Bianca Stone's beautiful accompanying illustrations, done on translucent pages that overlap Carson's handwritten text. Turning each page feels something like dusting off a relic. 

Despite its modern voice, its wit and its aesthetic charm, Carson is not one to make the tragedy of Antigone easy on the casual reader. And in case you're not familiar, it's a doozy. If you are familiar with Greek tragedy at all (SPOILER ALERT for every Greek tragedy), it won't surprise you to know that pretty much everybody kills themselves by the end, while the Chorus doth protest and mourn and hem and haw. It's great, in a way best summed up by this page:

As Simon Critchley once wrote, "tragedy is like Guinness. It's not supposed to be good for you."

My other favorite book of late is my new kids' "staff favorite", and has been nearly impossible for me to talk about without forcing whatever patient listener I've tricked into listening into full-blown story time mode -- every picture must be shown, every detail of the adventure recounted. Its debatable classification as a kids book aside, this beautifully (and not particularly briefly) written book also has its roots in the oldest of stories, a journey fit for its own Joseph Campbell PBS special. The book is Taka-Chan and I, originally published in 1967 and now in a re-issued edition by the NYRB Children's Collection. It's narrated by Runcible, a Weimerarmer who, according to his author bio, is a firm believer in broadening international understanding ("The world would be a better place if more dogs would travel", Runcible says.) He knows, because, according to this story, he once dug a hole all the way from his home on the beaches of Cape Cod to Japan, where he met a little girl named Taka-Chan. This and all of the adventures that follow are documented in the stunning photography of Eiko Hosoe, and, well, c'mon. Look at this pair and just try not to be charmed to smithereens. 

 

       

Turns out, Taka-Chan is being held captive by a fearsome sea dragon. In order to free her, Runcible must find the most loyal creature in all of Japan and lay a flower at his feet. The challenge is accepted, the quest begins. 

I won't give away the ending, but let's just say this is a hero's journey, not a Sophoclean tragedy. No reader will close this book with a heart un-warmed. I can't recommend this highly enough for anyone, of any age, with two feet or four. 

Oh, Kathi. . . we're going to miss you

The Bay Area literary community lost one of its brightest lights this morning, when after a lengthy battle, Kathi Kamen Goldmark succumbed to cancer - she was 63.

Kathi was one of the very special ones, and I can't overstate how wonderful the moments we shared together were. She possessed a kindness and care that is rare these days, and her buoyant charm put smiles on faces whenever she came into a room.

Kathi was a tireless proponent of the written word. She was a novelist, a journalist, and the producer of West Coast Live. She and her husband, Sam Barry, worked closely with emerging authors, offering advice on how to succeed in the publishing world in both their column / blog Author Enablers, and in their book, Write That Book Already. We sat together on the Litquake board. In 2007 Kathi was named a San Francisco Literary Laureate, and in 2008 was the recipient of The Women's National Book Association Award. November 8th, 2008 was Kathi Kamen Goldmark Day in San Francisco by Mayoral Proclamation, and on that day, Kathi also received a Certificate of Recognition from the California Legislature for “...outstanding achievements in the arts and literary fields.”

Kathi's love of literature was matched by her passion for music. In 1992 alongside Amy Tan, Stephen King and the Barry Brothers, she was a founding member of The Rock-Bottom Remainders and since that time, the band has raised in the neighborhood of two million dollars for various charities.

Kathi was a dear friend, not only to myself, but to many of us here at Green Apple Books. We loved her, and will miss her.

rosebud

Lesbian Stripper

Since everyone from the New Yorker to Wall Street Journal has reviewed Alison Bechdel’s Are You My Mother, I’m instead going to discuss Dykes to Watch Out For,  my beloved and covert  thrill for most of its 25-year history.   

It’s hard to get the news from Bechdel. But, what delightful fun I had doing just that for many years. Bechdel’s comic strip soap opera of housemates, lovers, ex-lovers, and bookstore clerks-- ran from 1983 to 2008 in the LGBT and alternative press even as those mediums dwindled away. I caught up with the strip upon arriving in the city and to political consciousness, in 1986.

Bechdel seemed aware of every timely issue across our patchwork of gay ghettos-- outing, the March on Washington, gender politics-- from her Burlington, Vermont home, which she slyly displayed on the shelves of the strip's Madwimin Bookstore-- books like “My Lover Used to be a Woman," “Susie Bright Explains it all For You,” and "Heather's Mommy is Now Heather's Daddy." That is, until a Bounders and Buns and Noodle Books moves in and Jezanna, the manager is forced to close Madwimmin). Like a lesbian Gary Trudeau, Bechdel’s headlines in the town’s Daily Distress bleated news of invasions and zenophobia from the dark Bush years, and book industry consolidation-- “Despite Losses Medusa.com Stock Up 1000%” for example.

DTWOF’s cast of characters included Alison’s doppelganger-- library science student Mo; her first girlfriend, mechanic Harriet, second girlfriend Sydney, a Women’s Studies professor and breast cancer survivor; activist and drag king Lois, who dates Jasmine, her daughter, trans-teen Janis; English professor Ginger, her student (and CIA intern) Cynthia; bisexual Sparrow who heads the local NARAL office, her partner, Stuart, and their son Jiao; environmental lawyer Clarice, accountant Toni and her son Raffi; and Thea who has multiple sclerosis.

Here’s hoping that Bechdel reintroduces DTWOF and that the crossover success of her last two memoirs draws a whole new audience. Even better, how about an animated TV series? In the meantime, check out Dykes to Watch Out For at the Green Apple annex’s stupendously deep graphic novel selection, and adore Bechdel’s sapphic sisters as much as I do.