Thursday, January 31, 2008

book club

I'm not in one (though I might try again soon), but Madge is, in her class.
She and some friends are reading Hatchet by Gary Paulsen. She's got a bunch of post-its in her copy with notes on them. My favorite is the one that has the creative misspelling "soulition."
A word like that ought to exist.
Anyway, I found out about the book club because I remarked that I know and like the book, but I was surprised that they are reading it at such a relatively young age. To which she replied that one of her book club friends had nightmares after the first chapter. (Is a SPOILER ALERT necessary for something that happens in the first chapter? If so, you are forewarned.) See, the whole book is basically a Robinson Crusoe story set in northern woods, starring a boy who (my perforated memory tells me) is about thirteen. He gets stranded because the pilot of the little plane he's in has a heart attack, and this heart attack is so vividly told that it gives eight-year-old girls nightmares, which is quite a compliment to the author.
I may not have helped Madge's sleep by telling her that now she knows about it and if she's ever around her grandparents and they start talking in a slurred way and complaining about a lack of feeling in their limbs, especially the left ones, she'll be a step ahead of the game.
"You mean MY grandparents?"

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