Tyrannosaurus Drip by Julia Donaldson and David Roberts. Book Review.

 buy link Tyrannosaurus Drip

This is a prehistoric version of the Ugly Duckling. When the duckbilled dinosaurs egg is accidentally mixed in with the eggs in a tyrannosaurus’s nest, the duckbilled is raised as one of their own. He is mocked by the family for looking weak and having a mouth like a beak. He refuses to eat meat, dining instead on vegetation. When the family chants “Up with hunting! Up with war! Up with bellyfuls of duckbilled dinosaur!” The little duckbill sings the opposite.

The tyrannosauruses are eager to cross the river and fill their bellies with duckbilled dinosaur but this is impossible because they cannot swim. The little duckbill discovers he can and makes friends with the animals living on the other embankment. When a tree falls across the river, it is the little duckbill who saves the other duckbilled dinosaurs.

While this book is pro-planet-based diet, and I’m all for that, it seems a little harsh on the tyrannosauruses who are following their own natural instincts. In order to make their defeat more palatable the author has painted them as war crazy monsters. Fortunately, they are not killed in the end but simply washed out to sea. They were, after all, his parents for a while.

Children will enjoy the fact that the littlest duckbill is the one who saves everyone. In spite of being bullied, he has grown up with a positive and loving nature. In the end, he is welcomed into his new/original tribe.

Children who love tyrannosaurus rexes might not like their defeat but it is a funny twist of events. It shows that wits can overcome might. Children who find themselves surrounded by bigger, tougher siblings and neighbors may feel comforted by this unusual story.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

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An Attitude of Gratitude Creates Happiness

The second edition of Rayne Shines is now published. The characters are people instead of frogs and the text has been tightened. Here are the first few pages.

Rayne is bored with life, until a new family moves in next door. Why do they look so happy? Rayne wants to know their secret. Rayne Shines is a humorous and thought-provoking picture book for ages 5-7.

In a subtle and humorous way, the story shows how attitude and perception create either happiness or misery. Rayne learns that gratitude, playfulness, optimism, and simplicity bring joy.

Buy link http://a.co/agCf1sP

Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

 

 

 

 

Eating Green by Molly Aloian. Book Review.

 Buy Link Eating Green (Green Scene)

“Eating green means understanding the impact our food choices have on the environment and trying to lessen that impact. To eat green, we must buy food with little or no packaging. We should eat fresh food and local food that is grown or made nearby. Eating green also need avoiding foods that have been sprayed with harmful pesticides.”

Although this picture book is written for children, it is a reminder for people of all ages of the impact of our choices. It discusses necessary and unnecessary packaging and its impact on landfills. It explains the difference between processed foods and fresh foods and their impact on the earth and our bodies. Organic foods are preferred and the harmfulness of pesticides is explained. The reader learns why buying local is a good habit. The accumulation of toxic plastic drinking bottles is examined. The book encourages little-free lunches. It ends with the beautiful double page spread on the importance of family mealtime. Bonus: a simple but healthy pizza recipe at the end of the book. There is also a glossary and an index.

The illustrations in this book are full-color photographs which highlight and elucidate the message. You cannot look at that pile of garbage, mostly plastic, and not feel we need to change. This is an excellent book for families to share.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

Let’s Eat! What Children Eat Around the World by Beatrice Hollyer. Book Review.

This book features food of five children: Jordan from France, Luis from Mexico, Thembe from South Africa, Yamini from India, and AA from Thailand. Each section gives an overview of the child’s life, family, and food. It features a special day where food is prominent. The book begins with a chocolate cookie recipe from chef Jamie Oliver.

Eight-year-old Thembe has to carry water in a clay pot, walk across the hills to school, work in the vegetable garden, collect firewood, and help with dinner. The special event is a wedding.

Something that will surely encourage discussion, “The groom’s friends have killed two cows for the wedding feast. The best pieces are barbecued for the men, and the rest is put into big pots to stew.”

Six-year-old Luis collects eggs and cares for the sheep. He washes his face with water from the big cement basin in the courtyard. Breakfast is cold rice pudding or cornflakes and chocolate milk. He eats tortillas at nearly every meal. His special day is fiesta just before Christmas.

Eight-year-old AA helps to feed a Buddhist monk every morning. She can cook her own eggs.

The book continues sharing similarities and differences between the lives and diets of these children. It is written in a way children can understand and shares relevant and interesting facts. It ends with a recipe from each child and a glossary. The recipes are a milk tart, tomato salsa, Thai fried eggs, chocolate cake, and coconut sweet.

This book would help children connect with other cultures and also appreciate what they have. I wish the recipes were more substantial and not focused so much on sweets.

All proceeds from this book go to Oxfam.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

 

Recycled Sundays – Giving Thanks

We’re heading into the over indulgence season. Thanksgiving is the time of overindulgence in poultry and pumpkin. Halloween is the time of overindulgence in terror and treat. Christmas, the ultimate blowout, is the time of overindulgence in everything. Appropriately, these days of decadence are followed by Year’s Day, the time of reparation and resolution.

As Thanksgiving Day approaches, those of us with gardens that barely yielded spinach, peas, and lettuce, may feel the holiday has lost its impact. It is difficult to be thankful for the cloudiest, coldness, wettest summer most of us ever remember. It is difficult for me to express gratitude for wormy carrots and radishes, green tomatoes the size of my thumbnail, the smallest yield of zucchini ever (I previously thought it was not humanly possible to consume all the zucchini grown by a single plant), clematis that never climbed, honeysuckle and sweet pea that never attracted a single hummingbird (did anyone actually see one this summer?) and annual flowers that were stunted by spring frost and killed in late bloom by autumn frost.

In an effort to achieve the appropriate holiday attitude, I will consider the many things for which I should be thankful. First, I was able to construct that previous sentence without a dangling participle. Second, I am not a farmer whose survival depends on tomatoes the size and quality of children’s marbles. Third, odds are that next summer won’t be a record-breaking summer miserable weather. Fourth, I can’t remember any other summer where forest fires were next to nonexistent on the news. Also, we had some impressive rainstorms but not a single hurricane, tornado, earthquake, or sinkhole.

I’m thankful I’m alive and have a decent chance to remain that way for respectable time since I live in Canada not in a Third World or a war-torn country.

I can read this newspaper, unlike 5% of Canadians who have trouble dealing printed matter. I can afford this newspaper, unlike 14.3% Canadian families living below poverty level. I can write this column, which means I have a sense of humour (hopefully).

Smile wrinkles are far more attractive than frown wrinkles.

I’m thankful that the Peregrine falcon has been downgraded on the list of endangered Canadian species and that Pee Wee Herman has been downgraded on the list of bizarre species. I’m thankful that I’ve never fallen for Woody Allen who has been downgraded, period.

I’m thankful that Ann Landers, like expensive wine, has improved over the years. Tina Turnner is still steaming windows at age 54. Although John Crowe is Canadian, at least Dan Quayle isn’t.

I’m thankful all the kids are back to school and life is following a rough and wild routine. We no longer feel like golden agers going to bed before the kids now that bedtime is scheduled again. I enjoy our togetherness more when I have some time alone.

Camping season is over and none of us was eaten by a berry starved, compost crazed bear.

I’m grateful for small golden moments of sweetness, such as my little boy’s voice wafting up from the bathroom as he sings a YTV songs that never, never, never, never end. My Third World foster child wrote to say she is married, (we didn’t even send a cow). The new wallpaper actually looks better on the bathroom wall than on the roll except for that giant bubble that didn’t exist before I went to work.

It’s good to have a day that reminds us that I have so much to be thankful for. Ideally, I should make it a regular experience. After all, there’s something precious in every single day.

October 11, 1992

Chronical-Journal/Times-News

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO MY FELLOW CANADIANS!

Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

Getting to the Vet on Time – Is It Possible? Recycled Sundays.

It’s bad enough when my mailbox is stuffed with bills, requests for donations, and rejection letters, but I really hate it when my cats get more personal mail than I do.

Their veterinarian sends them postcards. At least, they don’t picture domestic cats lazing in the sunshine on southern beaches wearing sunglasses and sipping kittenaid. The postcards picture a cat with his dentures in a glass and a dog with an ice pack on his toothache. It reminds them to brush regularly (in our house that is as often as they crown a new monarch in London) and make an appointment to have their teeth cleaned. I guess I can do without those kinds of postcards. Then again, so can my cats since they can’t see two-dimensional pictures anyway.

Vet day in our house resembles a chase scene from the old Keystone Cops movies. Everyone tears around the place, upsetting things, making spectacular collisions, and accomplishing very little. Because of our three cats – Virgil, Patch and Misty – we must go through this three times a year. We learned the only way to catch Virgil is to offer him food. That cat would put his head under a guillotine for kitty snack.

However, Patch has to be cornered. Everyone must act nonchalant. The cat traveling case should be hidden out of sight. Whoever is chosen to catch the animal must behave as though he is only slightly interested in the cat, just pausing for a quick petting. The more interest is shown, the better Patch hides. Once he is apprehended, he pays us back by dropping hair the way a lizard drops his tale or an octopus shoots ink. I suspect he thinks if he sheds enough hair in one spot, we will be fooled and take that to the vet instead. Too many trips in a row and he’ll be needing treatment for baldness.

Misty is almost impossible to catch. Highly suspicious by nature, we must be doubly sly to fool her. She is not drawn to kitty snacks and could live very well without humans, thank you, as long as she had clean litter.  SHE decides when and where she will be petted and by whom. Catching her requires an ambush which must succeed on the first try or the next 20 minutes will involve slamming doors, moving furniture, Olympic leaping, and bandages – for the human, not the cat. Once captured, stuffing her into the travel case is like trying to put bubbles back into soda pop.

I grew tired of all this nonsense, so when Virgil had an appointment, I caught him 15 minutes early and ignored his yowls of protest from the carrying case. Unfortunately, I had promised my children they could come and, of course, their school bus was late that day. They were met with a barrage of commands. “Respond immediately and cooperate completely or you’ll be left behind.” They unloaded their school stuff and then piled into the back seat. I put Virgil in his cage on the front passenger seat. The clock was ticking. Everyone had their assigned roles. This would be a test of our teamwork.

When I parked the car in front of the veterinarian’s, my son jumped up on the sidewalk and dropped the quarter into the meter as ordered. My daughter locked and slammed the sliding passenger door and then stood back. I jumped out and raced around to get the cat from the front passenger seat. Precise drill corp! We were amazing!

 

 

Then, I realized the passenger door was locked. My purse was on the floor with the keys in it. WE had made it on time, but not the cat. He was inside his cat cage, locked inside the car beyond my grasp. Fortunately, our vet still used wire hangers.

First published in the Chronicle-Journal/Times-News, Sunday, January 24, 1993

Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

Back When Tracing Your Ancestry Meant Hands on Research – Recycled Sundays

My family tree was a fascinating project, though not nearly as easy as I thought it would be. (Intrusive note: This was before the Internet provided historical information and genealogical lines. Everything had to be done by snail mail.) Originally, I was apprehensive about finding skeletons hidden in our family closet. It can be both humbling and a source of pride to learn your origins. It gave new meaning to the phrase, “You’ve come a long way baby.” when I learned one great grandfather was a gelder.

My husband doesn’t seem to have inherited many of his ancestor’s characteristics. One of his great-grandfathers was a scavenger and yet I can’t convince him to wash out the milk bags for reuse. Several were blacksmiths, yet he’ll only put a carrot on the fence for a horse because it slobbers when it eats from his hand. One great grandfather was a lighthouse keeper, which may be why it was so easy to convince him that changing burned-out bulbs was his job. Then again, several were domestic servants and that skill seems to have gone by the way of the dinosaur.

Many of my ancestors were well known for the determination, strength of character, and powerful tempers. A great grandfather used his squaring axe m split the bar of a local tavern with one massive chop. I guess the beer was warm. He was well known for the quality of his work and his temper. My husband always nods when I share these discoveries and makes no comment. They were laborers of the earth, miners, farmers, and lumbermen. This may explain why I keep digging up portions of the lawn for new areas to grow weeds.

One thing that always scratched at my mind was, why did the different lines in my family come to Canada? Don’t get me wrong. I love this country. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But leaving a small island with hundreds of years of family history for one of the biggest wildernesses in the world seems rather drastic.

My family started arriving in 1775. No one came for Klondike gold. They would have been happy if the mice had left them a few potatoes. This does give me leverage with my son. “Eat your vegetables, dear, and be grateful you didn’t have to fight the mice for them like your great great great great uncle did. You could be reduced to eating boiled beech leaves instead.”

History offers some hints as to why they took the great risk. The Highland closures, the Napoleonic wars, and widespread famines may have encouraged them to ride overcrowded and under stocked ships. What would it take to make me leave my home for a wild, strange place where people did not speak my language? Yonge Street doesn’t count.

I would have to resign myself to be permanently lost. I still use a city map when I venture off the main roads in my own city. I’d have to build up those walking muscles, since I couldn’t carve a canoe out of a tree without power tools and probably not even with. My family would have to get used to living off lettuce, beans, and zucchini since those are the only vegetables I have any real success growing.

One thing I would do though, is leave a record of my birthplace for future generations. Genealogists know that family lines are also often lost when emigration occurs. In Canada, a country where provinces are generally larger than most European countries, a movement from west to east can even cloud the trail. I truly appreciate that back in the days of letter writing, people generally wrote the full date in the place the letter originated from. Today’s generation isn’t as meticulous. Their great-grandchildren will not thank them for.

“Oh, look,” one will say. “A letter written by great Nana so-and-so. September 5. Most of it is smudged. Written with the blue felt marker. She mentions treeplanting. Do you think that’s when she lived in the country? Or during her protest years?

More and more people send letters by computer. Unless the recipient prints them out saves them, as unlikely as Sea World setting Shamu free to live with Willy, there will be no record once the delete key is pressed.

Remember 45 records and tapes and singletrack Betamax? What if you want to access something that is recorded on these devices? You shrug, that’s what. The hardware is becoming nonexistent. What will happen when our descendents want to access all the family records now on Mac and Apple and IBM?

“I saw an actual disk drive at an antique sale,” T.J. Jones IV will say. “If only I had access to some old-fashioned electricity.

I wonder if he’ll force his children to eat their food crystals by saying, “Clean up your plate and be grateful you didn’t have to face an actual checkout line to get it like your great great great great grandmother.”

August 1, 1993

Chronical-Journal Regional Newspaper

Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

Dancing on Daddy’s Shoes by Gabriel Dietch. Illustrated by Ashley Lucas. Book Review.

This book subtly addresses a complicated topic, that of infertility, with grace and beauty. I think it is written for parents to share with their children. I’m not sure if it’s necessary, though. Do children need to know that their parents had trouble conceiving and had to take medicine? Perhaps this is more of a book written for the prospective parents who are struggling. If this book is, indeed, meant to be shared with a child I think all they need to know is that the parents wanted them so much and had to wait such a long time. That’s enough to make the story precious for them.

The illustrations are sweet and gentle as are the words. You can feel the parents’ deep desire to have a child to love. When the baby finally arrives and dances on her father’s shoes it evokes strong emotion.

The text, however, has some problems. There are some phrases that are absolutely lyrical but it seems to jump from prose to rhyme to something else. At times, it stumbles.

We travelled far and saw many places that were really neat. The one I saw the clearest was a land with the tallest trees.

The tree and I walked down the beach so he could show the stars to me. “Have you wondered why your timing for this dance is in a freeze? Sometimes one must wait for that truly special girl you seek.”

“I have helped so many find their way; some aid you both sure need. Sometimes parents require some help to make a beautiful being. If you can’t create naturally, don’t fret; there is a way if you follow me. But to create another shows one’s love, so you cannot be bleak. Why shouldn’t you have this dance you truly seek? My magic medicine may help. It is a way, but you must follow it every day.”

Also, on my e-book version there were several pages that had gibberisheither in addition to the text or in place of the text.

Asdasdasd p

S S S S adaa asdasad

qwdqwe qweqwe qweqwe

I think if the author polished the text and marketed it to parents, it could be very popular.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

Deeply Touching – Just the Two of Us by Will Smith. Illustrated by Kadir Nelson. Book Review.

 Click here to buy Just the Two of Us

On the first page of this book is a rap by Will Smith that summarizes what the book is going to be about. Basically, this is a love story between a father and his son.

The dad wants so badly to be the best dad possible for his child. His love is all-encompassing, protecting and freeing at the same time. He gives his son advice such as when a girl breaks your heart don’t take it out on the next one and always tell the truth. But consistently throughout the book the message is powerful, “I love you and I’m here for you.”

The book has a poetic rhythm. I’m quite sure Will Smith could rap the entire thing and make it sound even more beautiful than when I read it myself, especially since I choke up.

The illustrations are stunning, realistic paintings of an African-American family. They absolutely glow with love. Kadir Nelson captures the personalities of the father and son beautifully.

This would be a perfect Father’s Day gift or a gift for a man expecting the birth of his first son. It shows a father how to be a father, what it means to believe in your dreams and to help your child believe in his.

Even though the father and son in the book are African-American, any man who has experienced becoming a father will relate intimately to Will Smith’s touching, powerful story. What a great book to start the month. I wish I could give more than five stars.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages

The Joy of a Grandpa – I Already Know I Love You by Billy Crystal. Illustrated by Elizabeth Sayles. Book Review.

 Click here to buy I Already Know I Love You

This book is written to an unborn child from his grandfather. It begins:
“I’m going to be a grandpa!
I have the biggest smile.
I’ve been waiting to meet you
for such a long, long while.”

The book goes on to talk about all the things the grandfather plans on sharing with his grandchild, baseball, animals, flying kites, peekaboo, singing her to sleep, and more. The rhyming holds up well and complements the gentle, lullaby tone. I could easily see this being sung to a child.

One especially lovely part is where he reminisces about taking her mommy to her first movie when she was little.
“When I took your mommy,
I never watched the screen.
The movie was in her smile –
to her was a dream.”

This book is a touching, loving devotion to an unborn child. It would make a beautiful present from a grandfather.

The illustrator, Elizabeth Sayles, does a wonderful job of creating realistic, endearing, and beautiful pastel pictures. They are a perfect complement to the words.

Billy Crystal has created a book that is bound to become a family favorite and kept in a memory trunk long after the child has outgrown it. Highly recommended.

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Bonnie Ferrante: Books For All Ages