Join me for an exploration of my book basket!
Some books that I mention may have themes or subject matter that may be troublesome for some. Please review the books on your own before you read them or hand them to your children.
Books and Passages Mentioned
The First Ladies by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray
Eleanor reaches toward me, and as I link my hand with hers, I glance down. Memories rush through me of the first time our hands were clasped together that day in the Mayflower Hotel. That forbidden act came as naturally then as it does now, and so it should be: Negro and white together.
When I glance up, Eleanor’s eyes are on our intertwined hands, and I imagine she has the same thoughts. Smiling, Eleanor says, “This is your moment.”
I squeeze her hand and insist, “No, my friend. This moment is our together.”
Eleanor by Barbara Cooney
Allenswood had many rules. One important one was that only French was to be spoken. While the other girls sat fearful and tongue-tied, Eleanor chatted easily and happily with Mlle. Souvestre. Her old nanny had taught her well.
After three happy years at Allenswood, Eleanor returned home poised and confident, brave, loyal, and true.
When many years later she entered the White House as First Lady of the land, Eleanor carried with her Father’s letters. Mlle. Souvestre’s portrait remained with her always.
100 Extraordinary Stories for Courageous Girls (page on Mary McLeod Bethune)
Mary recognized that African-Americans struggled to enjoy the same freedoms white people did. For the rest of her life, she worked to help them gain equality. Her hard work got the attention of many, especially President Franklin D. Roosevelt. He chose her as his adviser to help bring all Americans together as equals, whatever the color of their skin. Soon Mary became known as a great leader, “The First Lady of the Struggle.”
Honor and thanks be to the Lord, who carries our heavy loads day by day. He is the God who saves us. Our God is a God who sets us free. Psalm 68: 19-20
Skating with the Statue of Liberty by Susan Lynn Meyer
A moment later they were stepping onto the rink together, their hands clasped, and then they had joined the coupled skaters.
The Orphan Band of Springdale by Anne Nesbet
If she played a truly beautiful note, she liked to think—an absolutely most perfect note—it might travel very far indeed. Maybe as far as Canada. Maybe as far as the war. Maybe it would never stop traveling until, as powerful as a wish, it bumped into the one it had been sent after.
“The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
And they themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them. And Peter became a tall and deep-chested man and a great warrior, and he was called King Peter the Magnificent. And Susan grew into a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet and the kings of the countries beyond the sea began to send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriage. And she was called Susan the Gentle. Edmund was a graver and quieter man than Peter, and great in council and judgement. He was called King Edmund the Just. But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired, and all princes in those parts desired her to be their Queen, and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant.
Towers in the Mist by Elizabeth Goudge
The whole world was full of the muted sound of water, the steady murmur of the swiftly-flowing river and the soft drip of the water-laden trees. It was still strangely warm for December. The air was soft and moist and caressing. Twice, flashing from the silvered twigs of a treetop to the crimson of the willows below, Joyeuce saw the blue body of a kingfisher. She was used to these days of misted warmth and color, for they came often in the sheltered Thames valley, blooming among the harsh dark days of wind and rain like roses in midwinter, but never before, she thought, had there been a December day as lovely as this one. In spite of her misery she could not help but be a little comforted by the beauty of it, for it was a fragile and tender beauty that crept into her almost by stealth. She would have shut tired eyes against the blaze of summer, but these soft colors were kind to weariness. The triumphant shouting of the birds in springtime would have seemed to her a cruel mockery but the soft drip of the raindrops was a sound attuned to her sorrow and held a kind of peace.
He had discovered, now, the fear at the heart of love. He felt that torment that she had felt in the garden at the Tavern when she thought what a little thing might snap the thread of this life. She twisted her hands together, wondering how to comfort him, how to tell him what she now knew.
“It’s not as bad as you think, Nicolas,” she whispered. “The deeper you go into pain the more certain are you that all that happens to you has an explanation and a purpose. You don’t know what they are but you know they are there. You don’t suffer any the less because of the certainty but you would rather suffer and have it than just enjoy yourself and not have it.”
Happy Reading!
Stephanie
What a thorough review, Stephanie!
Thank you for sharing the lines from Towers in the Mist. I have not read that Goudge story yet, and the bits you shared speak so much to the season of life I've been in.
On a different note, I just loved Barbara Cooney's Eleanor. Such a beautifully told story. Have you read Emily, illustrated by Barbara Cooney and written by Michael Bedard? It's about Emily Dickinson and is a favorite of mine. Gives such a beautiful perspective on Emily's life, both in words and pictures.