Web Spinning

If you have ever heard the storyteller Carmen Deedy tell the story--live--of her first encounter with a librarian, than you'll understand why I picked up "Charlotte's Web."

It's interesting I never read this book in my youth, considering it holds a key line that my family and friends find vital in knowing me: "The quickest way to spoil a friendship is to wake somebody up in the morning before he [or she, in my case] is ready."(p. 35) And as such I found myself drawn to Charlotte's character.

I don't know what I was thinking I would find in the old hard cover book, which had my sisters name scrawled delicately in crayon as only a child can do. But I set off on an adventure with the intent to save Wilbur, and instead found myself entranced by the life (or web) I've been spinning for myself.

For the past while now, I have felt as though I have just been hanging on. Hanging by a thread, as they say. I have been aching for those days of youth when the choices were merely who you would play with that day and not which bill can wait to be paid. And so I found my response surprising when I read the line, "The world is a wonderful place when your young."(p. 18) I thought to myself, 'yes it was, but it most certainly still is.' And as I read along, Charlotte began to trim back her web to make room for the words that would show the world how an ordinary pig named Wilbur is some-terrific-humble pig. With each new word Charlotte created, I began feeling as though I could see through the web I've been casting around myself.

Sometimes we just need a new narrative for ourselves (as my mom would say). It's as easy as changing three little words: bored, tired, and frustrated become excited, poised and adventurous. So my new narrative is not Wilbur's, but Charlotte's children began building my web to read: Denver is excited, poised, and drawn to the adventurous day.

What does your narrative say?

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Last month I had a friend staying with me. I noticed her reading the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riodan. I had been told by various people (kids and adults alike) that I should read these very popular books, and so I quickly picked them up when my friend was finished. A week later I found myself finished with the five book series and a bit perplexed.

First, lets say that I highly enjoyed all the Greek mythology used through the series. I made the effort to write down all that I need to go back and look up. I love it when a book makes you search for more. Riodan's interpretation of the attitude of the Gods and the representation of monsters was creative and also thought provoking. The reading itself was fast paced and I found myself wanting to get home to finish the story instead of going out with friends or cooking myself dinner. But the use of first person narrative did throw me a bit. I found I was just waiting for action more than fully processing the story. As such, I don't remember much detail in the story, just plot. That is until I got to book five and this is where I became perplexed.

Riodan wrote a line that I realized I had been hoping for. The line created the books title, "Home, Hearth, the last Olympian." (p.103) This poignant phrase (all five words) made my heart skip. He got it, I thought to myself. Story is what keeps us going, what makes us live, what makes us jump, laugh, cry, and think. Story connects us together even when we don't know one another.

Riodan continued my suspense and I was so excited when I read, Gods need mortals to keep them alive. He was so close and I was ready; ready for Story to be given justice. And then Riodan missed his opportunity. The opportunity to express that story lives and we all must keep it going. Instead he brushed by what could have been a highly significant moment and paraphrased, "Hope survives best at the hearth." (p.308)

I was confused. I enjoyed the books, but I felt misguided. I feel as though Riodan didn't truly know the story he was writing. In the end, he missed the point. He focused on the "heroes journey," when the true importance was the heroes that reside in each human, waiting to come out even with out the powers of Zeus, Posiden, or Hades racing through our veins.

And who knows, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Riodan knew along what he was writing. Maybe he was just waiting silently like Hearth, waiting for someone to notice. And maybe all will be written in his second series coming this October. The first book entitled "The Lost Hero." Because lets not forget, "Hope does not leave without being given permission." (p228). Hearth will always be the last Olympian. And if we surround ourselves around her, warm ourselves by her fire and tell our stories, then hope will never die. Story will live forever.