After an entertaining, edifying - and sometimes sobering - trip to New Orleans, I’m back in Chicago. I’d love to spend the morning writing down my impressions of the difficulties facing the Big Easy, but today is my last day in the office before twelve weeks of family leave and I’m trying not to panic. (I’m worried about getting things wrapped up, not about spending time alone with my three-month-old. For the most part.) As I’ve said, I will continue to write “Likely Stories” while I’m home, so hopefully I’ll have a chance to improve on my recent efforts soon.

I did finish Jasper Fforde’s The Fourth Bear. After that, I shirked my assigned reading list for a few days to read my friend John Green’s An Abundance of Katherines. And yesterday I made it about halfway through Michael Simon’s Little Faith.

More just as soon as time allows.

desktop backgrounds movie freemovie sexy freenude free stars moviefree movie gallery nudestreams free sex movietrailer movie sex freeclips straight movie sex freeteen boy movies freeteen free movie pornfree adult movies xxx

Well, here I am in New Orleans. Excuse me: N’awlins. I had thought that I might provide you all (excuse me: y’all) with daily updates of the doings (doin’s) surrounding the glamorous ALA Annual Conference, and yet…well…who wants to read about me having dinner, or standing in a booth, demonstrating Booklist Online? (In fact, if you did receive an honest account of the latter, you might be creeped out by the sight of my Inner Salesman luring prospective customers with the promise - totally bogus - of sets of steak knives.)

But I did say that I was going to blog from conference (there’s that pesky verb again), so I feel that I must offer something. And I have to make it quick, because my laptop battery died, there’s no outlet in the booth, and I’m writing this on a terminal that, if I indulged in sound marketing practices (thank god I’m not a marketer) would be reserved for demonstrating Booklist Online.

So, in lieu of any actual news about anything that’s happening in New Orleans (New Orleenz), I’ll share an anecdote from last Wednesday in Chicago.

(I wish I could make that rippling visual effect they always use in cartoons to denote flashbacks, along with the harp music or whatever.)

Riding the bus home from work with my two-year-old (no, I haven’t hired him yet; I pick him up on the way home), I was indulging in my second-favorite activity while riding the bus: craning my neck to see what everyone is reading. (My first favorite activity is reading.) I saw a man reading The Good Life, by Jay McInerney, a book I loved.

As you know, publishers often use excerpts from positive reviews to advertise their books. Often, they use the blurbs on the books themselves, usually the paperback version. Even though we publish our reviews in advance of the books’ publication dates, there isn’t usually enough lead time to get the blurbs onto a hardcover - that’s why you usually see other authors’ praise on dustjackets.

When The Good Life was published, however, an excerpt of my review was featured prominently on the dustjacket. And so, seeing this guy reading the book, I found myself wondering if my praise had in any way influenced him to pick up the book. I didn’t want to ask him, of course. Saying, “By the way, you’ll notice my name on the back of that book you’re reading,” is - or should be - an offense punishable by flogging.

And yet, I was curious. And if my enthusiastic line had indeed encouraged him to read the book, did he like it, too? Or was he halfway through and thinking of quitting, angry at the reviewer who’d led him astray?

Time was running out. The bus was nearing my stop. Picking up my two-year-old, I made my way to the front of the bus, still debating my approach. But then the man closed his book. He was getting off at my stop.

The bus stopped and we got off.

“So, do you like that book?” I inquired casually, in the manner of a man who always solicits opinions from random strangers.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he said. “But then, I always like Jay McInerney. You know what it’s about?”

I told him I did, and thanked him for his recommendation. Even well-blurbed reviewers aren’t a part of most reading transactions.

On the plane down to New Orleans (Noo Orley-ans), I sat next to a young fellow who was reading Tom Robbins’ Villa Incognito, a book I didn’t really like all that much.

I kept my mouth shut.

de tawneestone Videos gratisBros Interrassischcumshot Granny Älterethumb Asian nudeKagome lesbischeGemüse sexxx Mädchen Masturbation xxx fuckingSpanking kostenlos Otkpre-teens TGP TinyInterrassisch Ehefrauentitties Teenager-tiny

I spent so long reading Richard Powers’ The Echo Maker that I’ve gotten a little bit behind in my reading. True, we’re in the middle of what we call a “long writing period” - extra time built into the production schedule in order to accommodate events like ALA’s Annual Conference - and so my next deadline isn’t until early July, but still, deadline surfing is dangerous when it comes to book-reviewing. It’s only possible to cram so many pages of reading into one night.

On Sunday I started reading The Fourth Bear, the second book in Nursery Crime, Jasper Fforde’s second series (the first being Thursday Next). That’s a sentence sort of like he’d write, actually. Both his series are wildly inventive and postmodern, mystery-meets-fantasy in a world where characters from books are real, written with zestful silliness and an obvious love of language. His work has been compared to that of the Monty Python troupe a few times, but, aside from a healthy British love of nonsense, there’s a lot more to it than that.

Anyway, I’ve read about 100 pages a day and will finish The Fourth Bear tonight, and I’ll get at least one other book read on the way to and from conference (haven’t decided which one yet). A couple of the books in my to-review stack are big and heavy with stout covers and glossy paper (one on the World Cup and one on parenting), so I’ll leave those out of my suitcase and tackle them when I get back from New Orleans.

When I get back, I’ll only have one day in the office before I start my family leave - 12 weeks at home with my 3-month-old. Meanwhile, I’m clearing off my desk, creating lists and lists of lists of tasks for the people who are filling in for me while I’m gone, and generally trying to get my office ready for departure. (Ian Chipman, the extremely capable Books for Youth editorial assistant who will be helping fill in for my absence, shouldn’t have to deal with my coffee cups and potato-chip bags.)

Amidst all this chaos, I am pleased to report that I’ve also finished a piece of unassigned reading that I really enjoyed: The Three-Martini Playdate, by Christie Mellor. The jacket copy says it all: “How did children become the center of the universe? You were here first!” (See how quickly I turn to the jacket copy when I’m not reviewing the book?) Now, I love books like Cooking without Knives or Stoves: Making a Safe House for Your Precious Wee Ones, Communicating More Effectively at Work with Baby Talk, and Out of Sight, Out of Your Life: How Unwatched Children Are Likely to Explode as much as the next parent, but more and more I’m coming to appreciate the idea that paranoia and 24-hour companionship are not the soundest basis for raising healthy youngsters. We should bring our children into our lives, not the other way around.

Mellor thinks this way, too, and her book does an excellent job of promoting the idea of self-sufficiency among parents:

Do not make your child your hobby or you will end up waiting by the telephone in a cheery room covered in brittle, yellowed crayon drawings, regaling those few friends that are left with stale anecdotes about your youngster’s accomplishments. 

It’s written in a fun, semiformal, old-fashioned voice that I find very appealing. Chapter titles include: “Bedtime: Is Five-thirty Too Early?”; “Screaming: Is It Necessary?”; “Child Labor: Not Just for the Third World”; “‘Children’s Music’: Why?”; and so forth. I highly, highly recommend this as a gift for new parents. (I received two myself and I cherish both of them.)

You may ask yourself how I found time to read even a slim book (143 pages), given my reviewing schedule. And, truthfully, at the end of each year when Bill Ott asks us to share our favorite nonassigned reading, I often have only one, two, or three books to choose from. But - and please pardon me if this falls under the category of “too much information” - I have a new tactic. I keep books I want to read for myself - writing guides, parenting guides, writing about parenting, and so forth - in the, ahem, lavatory. With five minutes a day, one can accomplish wonders.

In fact, I’m thinking about writing a self-improvement book: The Classics of Western Literature in Five Minutes a Day. (No slur to the classics of Eastern literature, but including them would require at least ten minutes a day.)

How will I find time to write it? With five minutes a day, anything’s possible.

When I listed all the great programs my colleagues will be organizing and participating in, I left off the Reference Books Bulletin program, “We’ve Got Issues: Market Trends in Publishing and Their Effects on Reference Collections.” This is a particularly egregious oversight: I started my career at Booklist working for Mary Ellen Quinn in Reference Books Bulletin. I know from experience that reference folks get ribbed a bit for the books being “dull,” “heavy,” and “potentially fatal,” but truth be told, the reference programs can be standing-room-only. And I always found our reviewers to be delightful people.

Scheduled speakers include Kara J. Malenfant, Scholarly Communications & Government Relations Specialist at the Association of College & Research Libraries, Mary H. Munroe of Northern Illinois University, and Stewart Bodner of the New York Public Library. “We’ve Got Issues: Market Trends in Publishing and Their Effects on Reference Collections,” will be held at the Morial Convention Center, room 291, on Monday, June 26, from 10:30 a.m.-12:00 p.m. Get there early!

As I mentioned last week, we’re all busily preparing to go to the American Library Association’s annual conference in New Orleans at the end of this week. In general, this blog is of course in the “just one man’s opinion” category - my thoughts, feelings, experiences, and far-fetched conspiracy theories about book reviewing.

But I want to take a moment to mention what my colleagues are up to. Several of them will be putting their expertise on display with programs in New Orleans. If you happen to be headed there yourself, I’m sure you’ll find these well worth the while:

On Friday, June 23, Books for Youth editors ask “What’s So Funny?” and explore humor in children’s books. Speakers include New Orleans native Mo Willems (a six-time Emmy winner for Sesame Street, a two-time Caldecott Honor recipient, and a former stand-up comic), Jack Gantos (a writer of diverse talents known for his dark, quirky humor, a Newbery Honor recipient), Lisa Yee (writer, TV producer, blogger - her debut novel won the 2003 Sid Fleischman Humor Award), and David Lubar (whose books have been recognized by Best Books for Young Adults and state award committees and who has a site here). All this at the New Orleans Hilton Riverside, Jefferson Ballroom, Friday evening, from 8-10 p.m.

On Saturday, June 24, our young-adult-literature expert Gillian Engberg will be taking part in the Alex Awards Program. The Alex is given to 10 books, published in the previous year and written for adults, but that have special appeal to young adults (for these purposes, ages 12 through 18). This is an ALA award, cosponsored by Booklist. Speakers include 2006 Alex winners Lee Martinez, Greg Galloway, Neil Gaiman, Susan Palwick, and Jeanette Walls. There were also be short remarks from the committee members, from Gillian, and from Talia Ross, from Holtzbrinck marketing, who will speak from a publisher’s perspective about the increasing crossover of adult books to a YA audience (a topic of special interest to me) and the growing influence of the Alex Awards. Comb your hair and head on down to the Morial Convention Center, Rooms 388-390, at 4 p.m. Saturday, June 24th.

On Sunday, June 25, Brad Hooper will host “Louisiana on Our Minds,” a discussion with authors of new books that focus on New Orleans and Louisiana. Brad (a frequent author himself!) will chat with Roy Blount, Jr. (his latest book is Feet on the Street: Rambles around New Orleans), Diana Hollingsworth Gessler (Very New Orleans), and Susan Straight (A Million Nightingales). Brad will be the one wearing a seersucker suit (it is N’awlins, after all) at the Hilton Hotel, Jefferson Ballroom, on Sunday, from 1:30 to 3:00.

(Brad, ever busy, will also be a panelist on “So You Want to Be a Reviewer,” at the New Orleans Marriott, LaGalerie 5, on Saturday from 10:30-12, a panel sponsored by the Collection Development and Evaluation Section of the Reference and User Services Association. If you think you’ve got what it takes, make sure Brad agrees before you print your resume on the pretty paper.)

Lastly, the Michael L. Printz Award Program and Reception will be on Monday, June 26. Booklist sponsors this award, now in its 6th year, which is awarded for “excellence in YA literature.” I’m especially looking forward to an opportunity to see my friend and former colleague John Green accept the award, for his first novel, Looking for Alaska, and give a speech. His former boss, Stephanie Zvirin, tried to take bets on whether or not John will cry - but no takers. We’re all expecting waterworks. Come feel the emotion Monday evening at the Morial Convention Center, rooms 353-355, from 8-10 p.m.

And, if you are going to New Orleans, please stop by the Booklist booth (#2240) and say hi. I’ll be there every moment that I’m not scheduled to be somewhere else.

As a book reviewer, I write my reviews with what I hope is a voice of authority. Not because I’m always certain that my opinion is the one the whole world should share (I feel that way maybe every other review), but because, having formed my opinion, I won’t be doing anyone any favors by second-guessing myself in print (I save that for this blog).

And, truthfully, most of the books I review are easily mastered, and they follow familiar patterns, so it’s easy to evaluate them in comparison to other similar works. With experience, the Voice of Authority naturally creeps into the reviews, and that’s fine, because most of the time I feel authoritative.

But some books are different. I finished Richard Powers’ The Echo Maker last week. It’s a remarkable book, and reading it was an experience all book lovers crave. It was absorbing, challenging, entertaining, and enlightening. I felt alternately uplifted and depressed. I often felt frustrated - because my bus arrived at my stop and I had to stop reading.

Powers is such a brilliant writer that he makes me wonder whether I’m equal to the task of reviewing him. I’m not talking about whether or not I understand his book. I do. But how do I convey even a trace of his depth and complexity in a mere 200 words?

Worse - and I’m sure every reviewer has had this thought on occasion, when confronted with a work of such imagination and ability - how do I dare pass judgment on The Echo Maker? Even if comparing books and reviews is like comparing meals and menus, there’s no doubt about it: Powers is a better writer than I’ll ever be.

Obviously, ability or success in any field of endeavor is not necessarily a prerequisite to judging it. Many restaurant critics, play-by-play men, and screenwriting teachers have never achieved any meaningful results with a knife, bat, or word processor. And many who can do these things well can’t describe them very well. So it’s not like I question the role or existence of reviewers. Making useful recommendations to other fans is, well, useful.

But it’s good to feel humbled once in awhile. It’s important to remember that sitting at the judges’ table is not the same thing as standing on the awards podium. (Like that? I have more sports metaphors in my gym bag.) To not confuse authority with ability. Most of all, to not become jaded.

In fact, in the making-lemons-into-lemonade department, I probably do my job better when I am sometimes confronted with such a paragon of the craft that I feel, for a moment, unworthy. The thrill of discovering a great book reminds me why I’m doing this in the first place, and the moment of uncertainty reminds me of my own modest role in the whole enterprise.

I sure hope the next book is something really lame that I can trash.

(Kidding, people, kidding. I hope the next book is even better.)

STATELY, PLUMP BUCK MULLIGAN CAME FROM THE STAIRHEAD, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:

“Thank God it’s Friday!”

Surely that’s some kind of heresy. Anyway, happy Bloomsday! I feel like Ulysses has become one of those novels that it’s fashionable to admit that: a) you never finished, or, b) never really liked that much. But I have to make a confession: I have read Ulysses, and, no matter what Dale Peck says, I think it’s one of the best novels ever written. It’s possible that it’s not the best - but it’s pretty hard to think of anything to put above it on the list.

Oh, and while I’m baring my soul, I also love Moby-Dick.

I have of late - but wherefore I know not - forgotten the words to my favorite soliloquies…and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that I find I must Google Shakespeare.

(On another note: I wonder when the word “Google” will finally stop sounding like the perfect verb for naughty double entendres? When can we speak of “Googling” ourselves without shame? Of course, Googling oneself is inherently shameful, no matter how we express it…so I guess the answer to my question is: never.)

Yesterday, a Reuters article discussed the growing number of U.S. senators with authorial ambitions. A cynic might say that writing books while in office isn’t the best use of public servants’ time. A bigger cynic might suggest that the senators aren’t doing much of the writing, anyway. And an even bigger cynic…oh, never mind.

Loyal readers will note a sudden slowdown in blog entries from their loyal blogger. Things are getting a bit hectic around the office right now. Next week I’ll be traveling to New Orleans for the American Library Association’s Annual Conference. The week after that I’ll be starting twelve weeks of family leave, an opportunity to get to know my younger son a bit better. And right now we’re busily trying to roll out a piece of technology that will allow us to make “Booklist Editors Recommend” links faster and more plentiful.

And then there’s the World Cup.

The slowdown is temporary. And I’ll still write Likely Stories while I’m on leave. They may take away my desk - well, okay, I chose to leave my desk - but they’ll never take away my soapbox!

I’m still reading Richard Powers’ The Echo Maker. If you think I’m reading more slowly than usual, you’re right. Literary fiction takes longer to read than crime novels or books about blogging - and with books of exceptional depth and complexity, it’s especially important not to experience them at a run. One risks not noticing, in the race to finish, the beautiful sound of the sentences, the indelible images formed by delicate strings of words, the powerful metaphors given meaning by repetition and changing, subtle shadings.

Also, one risks missing the group round of the World Cup.

The next month of soccer games (only 56 more to go!) probably represents a bigger challenge to my reading time than even employment or parenthood. I’m doing my damnedest to watch every game, although I got off to kind of a rough start on Friday when, having put the kids to sleep and pulled up a comfy chair, I pressed play on the VCR (no, I don’t TiVo) only to be treated to the sight of a snow-filled TV screen. Seems my two-year-old had yanked the cable out of the wall during the day.

So, for that night, anyway, it was back to the book. But if soccer scores and player names creep into my book reviews, you’ll have to let me know.