What I really read

I have a tall stack of worthy-looking books to read, but what I actually read is whatever the kids have left lying around. I'm very tired of the Animorphs series, but James keeps bringing them, so I occasionally skim another one. I haven't tried Guardians of Ga'hoole yet. Ruth tends to read single novels rather than series, and she comes up with some fine ones. Two that stand out recently:

Halfway to the Sky by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley
I suspect that part of the power of this book for me was the mother-daughter struggle to connect across barriers of bitterness, guilt, and plain old busyness. I'm particularly sensitive to such themes these days as we adjust to more-or-less solo parenting. Come February, when Garth gets home, I'll probably be intrigued by stories of newcomers in the family.

True Confessions of a Heartless Girl by Martha Brooks
This was a gem. I love a story that is set so close to home (just across the border in southwest Manitoba) that I can see and hear and smell everything. Then on top of that, the characters are as breathtakingly real as a stubbed toe or an unexpected hug, and the tale winds its way through the sorts of wrenching struggles that can happen inside of a week or two, right here in a little prairie town.

I just noticed that both books focus on runaways. I'll admit it, I used to dream about running away, taking over the controls of my own life. Now that I am flying solo, I can't imagine voluntarily choosing this existence for the rest of my days. It's okay, Garth, you don't need to come flying home early, but you can bet I'll be glad when you do.