I can't believe it's been a year since the last big library sale here. Seems just last week I was grousing about Crayons' predilection for pink books.
This year's sale worried me a bit--there were just too many books in the children's section. Now, granted, I don't always get there during the first few hours, so maybe it's always like that--but it seemed to me that they were getting rid of a few too many good books this year. Nice for us, but not a good sign of the times.
I bought one boxful, and wished I had time to go through more of the boxes--maybe I'll get back sometime later in the weekend.
This is what we found:
Books we didn't have:
Open the Door: Stories Collected and Arranged by Margery Fisher (with a nice jacket by Edward Ardizzone)
Stories for Nine-Year-Olds and other younger readers, edited by Sara and Stephen Corrin
Favorite Fairy Tales Told in India, retold by Virginia Haviland
Sir Gibbie, by George MacDonald
The Golden Key, by George MacDonald, pictures by Maurice Sendak
The Ordinary Princess, by M.M. Kaye
The Children of Odin, by Padraic Colum
Theras and His Town, by Caroline Dale Snedeker
With Wolfe in Canada, by G.A. Henty
The Siege and Fall of Troy, retold for young people by Robert Graves
The Light Beyond the Forest: The Quest for the Holy Grail, by Rosemary Sutcliff
The Big Six, by Arthur Ransome
Fu-Dog, by Rumer Godden
The Wandering Wombles, by Elisabeth Beresford
Tingleberries, Tuckertubs and Telephones, by Margaret Mahy (a book The Apprentice used to like)
The Five Sisters, by Margaret Mahy (this one has some wizard stuff in it)
Warton and the Contest, by Russell E. Erickson (one of the Warton and Morton Toad series)
Betsy's Busy Summer, by Carolyn Haywood
The Middle Moffat, by Eleanor Estes
The Most Wonderful Doll in the World, by Phyllis McGinley
River Winding: Poems by Charlotte Zolotow
Looking at Architecture, by Roberta M. Paine
The Young Author's Do-it-Yourself Book
The Golden Book of Fun and Nonsense: Lightly Comic, Highly Humorous, and Largely Nonsensical Verse, selected and edited by Louis Untermeyer, illustrated by Alice and Martin Provensen
Birds, Beasts and the Third Thing: Poems by D.H. Lawrence, illustrated by Alice and Martin Provensen
Clever Cooks: A Concoction of Stories, Charms, Recipes & Riddles, Compiled by Ellin Greene
The Pooh Song Book
The Pooh Cook Book
Books we have but these are different editions or special:
The Worker in Sandalwood, by Marjorie Pickthall
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow & Rip Van Winkle, by Washington Irving, illustrated by Leonard Everett Fisher
The Rainbow Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang, illustrations by Michael Hague (not in very good shape, but I brought it home anyway)
Books we have but I picked them up to swap or sell:
The Gammage Cup, by Carol Kendall
The Daughter of Time, by Josephine Tey
Seabird, by Holling Clancy Holling
The Light Princess, by George MacDonald, pictures by Maurice Sendak
Videos and misc. stuff: an audio book of Ramona the Pest, and some videos including Runaway Ralph, the puppet opera version of Hansel and Gretel, and The Love Bug.
Showing posts with label George MacDonald. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George MacDonald. Show all posts
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Ponytail's things to say
Hi, this is Ponytails. I know some Charlotte Mason. Beatrix Potter and Charlotte Mason lived in the same place and they were around at the same time. Mama Squirrel and me are reading "The Princess and Curdie" and we only have two chapters left. There's a weird creature in the book called Ballbody. He's shaped like a round ball with eyes, nose, and mouth. And there's a green emerald. It's in Curdie's mom and dad's fireplace. And if it's shiny and sparkly green colour, then Curdie's okay. Because he's on a journey that Curdie's friend Irene the princess' Great-Grandmother sent him there for a mission. He's going . . . South, I think? It's either south or west. Or is it east? I think it's south. And if the emerald's uncoloured, then Curdie's in trouble and danger. And it did happen in the story that he did get in danger and in trouble. And his dad went and looked for Curdie's friend Irene the princess' Great-Grandmother. But she wasn't there. So he started going in the way that Curdie was going. And that's all I know about all that. And Curdie has a special touch and he can feel people's hands with his and see if they're turning into animals. Bye for now.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Curdie and Calling
Fascinating, the connections you can make in reading, especially when you're not looking for them.
Ponytails and I were reading George MacDonald's The Princess and Curdie, which is the sequel to The Princess and the Goblin. Curdie, the hero of the first book, has grown into a rather blase teenager. He seems to have lost his imagination and some of the good character qualities that he had in the first book, and to be living just for his day-to-day work in the mines. For no particular reason, he shoots a pigeon outside the castle where his friend Princess Irene used to live, and as he does this, something inside him seems to shock him out of his stupor. When he realizes that the bird isn't quite dead, something tells him to go up to the tower of the castle and ask for help...or something...from Irene's mysterious "great-great-grandmother" who he's actually never seen but who lives in the tower and seems to be connected with the birds. When he makes it all the way up all the stairs to the tower and finally gets to her door, she calls him in...by name...he finally sees her and they talk. She forgives him, promises to heal the bird, and gives him some advice and warnings.
Later last night I got into the third chapter of The Call, by Os Guinness: "Finding and Fulfilling the Central Purpose of Your Life." He quotes some letters written in prison by Vaclav Havel, and says this:
"It is only by responding and growing responsible, Havel argues, that one 'stands on one's own two feet.' He then asserts what all his thinking has led him to: 'I would say that responsibility for oneself is a inife we use to carve our own inimitable features in the panorama of Being; it is the pen with which we write into the history of Being that story of the fresh creation of the world that each new human existence always is.'"
Guinness again quotes Havel's letter: "someone eternal, who through himself makes me eternal as well...someone to whom I relate entirely and for whom, ultimately, I would do everything. At the same time, the "someone" addresses me directly and personally."
And then he goes on to talk about the need for us to understand that we are "called to be" (more on that another time). But the connections were so obvious, I wondered for a minute if all these writers had been sitting at the same table while they wrote! Yes, that's it, I thought, what Curdie had lost and what he seemed to find again by visiting the grandmother: responsibility. And there is a hidden meaning in that word: it also means "response-a-bility." Fascinating.
Ponytails and I were reading George MacDonald's The Princess and Curdie, which is the sequel to The Princess and the Goblin. Curdie, the hero of the first book, has grown into a rather blase teenager. He seems to have lost his imagination and some of the good character qualities that he had in the first book, and to be living just for his day-to-day work in the mines. For no particular reason, he shoots a pigeon outside the castle where his friend Princess Irene used to live, and as he does this, something inside him seems to shock him out of his stupor. When he realizes that the bird isn't quite dead, something tells him to go up to the tower of the castle and ask for help...or something...from Irene's mysterious "great-great-grandmother" who he's actually never seen but who lives in the tower and seems to be connected with the birds. When he makes it all the way up all the stairs to the tower and finally gets to her door, she calls him in...by name...he finally sees her and they talk. She forgives him, promises to heal the bird, and gives him some advice and warnings.
Later last night I got into the third chapter of The Call, by Os Guinness: "Finding and Fulfilling the Central Purpose of Your Life." He quotes some letters written in prison by Vaclav Havel, and says this:
"It is only by responding and growing responsible, Havel argues, that one 'stands on one's own two feet.' He then asserts what all his thinking has led him to: 'I would say that responsibility for oneself is a inife we use to carve our own inimitable features in the panorama of Being; it is the pen with which we write into the history of Being that story of the fresh creation of the world that each new human existence always is.'"
Guinness again quotes Havel's letter: "someone eternal, who through himself makes me eternal as well...someone to whom I relate entirely and for whom, ultimately, I would do everything. At the same time, the "someone" addresses me directly and personally."
And then he goes on to talk about the need for us to understand that we are "called to be" (more on that another time). But the connections were so obvious, I wondered for a minute if all these writers had been sitting at the same table while they wrote! Yes, that's it, I thought, what Curdie had lost and what he seemed to find again by visiting the grandmother: responsibility. And there is a hidden meaning in that word: it also means "response-a-bility." Fascinating.
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