I almost let the month slip away without giving away free books.
I like books. I also like giving books away. Especially really fine books, with good stories and beautiful sentences. I try not to give away crappy books on my blog. I try not to give away books I didn't enjoy myself. They aren't always hot sellers. They are always books I have read, books I know you'll like, if you love words as much as I do.
This month's picks:
1. Smiles to Go, by Jerry Spinelli, who's one of my favorite authors.
2. Savvy, Ingrid Law, which I've offered before and nobody has snatched up yet, strangely. Probably because they don't know how great it is. (Newbery winner, folks!)
3. The Chronicles of Chrestomanci, Vol. I, by Diana Wynne Jones. This is actually two books in one. It's also my new favorite fantasy series for kids. If you haven't discovered Jones yet, you must. Neil Gaiman is a fan, too. He says Jones is "...always perfectly magical." I agree. Just delightful fun.
The free book drawing goes until Friday (April 30) at midnight.
Winners choose their books.
This is always a small contest. If you enter, you have excellent odds of winning, so don't get discouraged if you haven't won yet. It's probably only a matter of time if you keep entering.
Same rules as usual apply:
1. Become a) a new follower of my blog or b) already be a follower
2. Comment on my blog and tell me that you follow
3. Be eighteen or get parent's permission to enter.
My teenage daughter read yesterday's poem.
Her (voice dripping sarcasm): How is that a poem? Because the words are all lined up in columns?(eye-roll here)
Me: (shrugging) Uh, I thought it was funny. I liked the word-play. You know: Hat/Hate?
Her: Look of scorn.
I forgot how stupid everything is when you're that age.
So today's poem has imagery and rhythm you can feel, like a drum-beat. And is short, because long is stupid.
Note: I also decided not to give away a poetry book, even though it is National Poetry Month, because apparently, nobody but me likes poetry.
This is just for torture purposes:
by Langston Hughes
We have tomorrow
Bright before us
Like a flame.
A night-gone thing,
A sun-down name.
Broad arch above the road we came.
Imagination doesn't just mean making things up. It means thinking things through, solving [problems] or hoping to do so, and being just distant enough to be able to laugh at things that are normally painful. [Some people] would call this escapism, but they would be be entirely wrong. I would call fantasy the most serious, and the most useful branch of writing there is.
--Diana Wynne Jones
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