paradise lost

[just a little side note: we’re still in the book-a-day blog advent to thanksgiving. thanks for books!]

my vivid mental image of the war in heaven, the fall of satan, and the subsequent fall of adam and eve all stem from john milton’s epic poem.

milton gives satan depth of character. he gives voice to adam’s, and especially eve’s, torment of soul.

since having my concept of the universe altered by milton, i’ve lived my whole life by a few lines in the poem’s fifth book, “freely we serve, because we freely love . . . in this we stand or fall.”

read it. it might change your life.

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my father’s dragon

elmer elevator runs away from home with an old alley cat. the story also involves two dozen pink lollipops, a fine tooth comb, and other such useful things.

need i say more?

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winnie-the-pooh

i’m not talking about any watered down, commercialized, cartoonized winnie-the-pooh, i’m talking about the bona fide genuine bear from a. a. milne.

winnie the pooh’s goodness and wit still charm me. you can identify with this sort of bear,

it was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. he hadn’t gone more than halfway when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. it began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. it was just as if somebody inside him were saying, ‘now then, pooh, time for a little something.’

i love all the pooh adventures. i love them so much that i own two copies of each book. our little pooh bear has wisdom his tubby tummy belies. if you haven’t met him, do.

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far from the madding crowd

i pulled this gentle introduction to the works of thomas hardy off my father’s shelves in high school. i couldn’t put it down. and have since toted this very copy with me across the world.

i’ve never wanted to go anywhere without bathsheba everdene. she is another spunk-filled, independent, chaos causing woman.

[i wonder what an afternoon tea between jane eyre and bathsheba would drum up … ?]

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the country bunny and the little gold shoes

my mom still can’t read this book out loud without crying. apparently it’s hereditary.

i’m only one of four (not one of 21), but i still imagined my mother as heroic as the bunny mother in this story.

it’s an easter story. even an easter story about bunnies. but it manages, in its simple way, to capture the essence of easter: the newness of life, the giving of oneself, the opening of heart.

it’s a must have for your little one’s shelf.

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