Yesterday, my family friend Sarah (

) and I went to the North Carolina Renaissance Faire.  Sarah was the prettiest peasant anyone has ever seen.  I was dressed as a fairy.  I had a crown, and there was some debate as to whether I was a princess or a queen.  I’d always rather be queen, but I didn’t argue when anyone called me a princess.  My picture was taken a couple of times.  My favorite part of the day, aside from Sir John Wenchworthy, Earl of Hangover and purveyor of Princessories (aka The Hot Pirate Guy, aka half of The Hot Pirate Couple) singing every time I walked past his booth (and I did walk past his booth many times), was all the small children pointing at me and whispering to their parents in awe “It’s a fairy!"  At one point a little girl asked me if I had any fairy stones.  I told her no; later I heard her ask her dad if she could approach another fairy and ask her for fairy stones.  Her dad told her no, and I got the sense that she was frustrated with the lack of fairy stones and her dad was tired of his daughter harassing poor unsuspecting fairies.  I knew they sold such stones at Princessories, 10 for a dollar, so I went back there and bought some.  I then returned to the stage where the little fairy was watching a show, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave her a fairy stone.  Her dad thanked me, but I think I sensed a note of “Great, now she will expect every fairy to give her a stone” in his thanks.  The third highlight of the day was talking to Animal X of Dreamweaver Productions.  Her work influenced my costume so heavily that I was mistaken for an employee.  She’s auditioned for Project Runway, so keep an eye out for her.

Being in the midst of all this 16th century fun, and having recently read The Royal Diaries: Elizabeth I, Red Rose of the House of Tudor, I found this week’s question:

What is the recipe for good historical fiction?

There are a lot of demands on historical fiction.  It’s got to be true to its period, while still telling an interesting story.  That is, I imagine, a difficult balance for an author.  How can an author achieve that balance successfully?  Who are some authors that have done so?  Is one period more suited to historical fiction than others?  Leave your answer in the comments here or post it at your own blog.  If you post it at your own blog, be sure to leave a link here!

Last Week’s Question
What does it mean to have a “thorough knowledge of children’s literature”?

Thanks to all who answered!  You can read the answers at the original post, Tea Cozy, and Bri Meets Books.  Thanks also to all who linked the question from your own blogs.

While I intend to continue teaching for a while, I am researching library schools now.  So if you have recommendations, do make them!  I’m looking for a program that would prepare me to work either as a school librarian or a children’s/teen librarian in a public library.  I want to be able to move across settings, but I want to specialize in youth services.

I’m a Latin teacher, so it’s only fitting that I post Latin poems.  From now on, you can expect from me for poetry Friday a Latin poem, and my English translation/adaptation of it.  All Latin texts will come from The Latin Library.  We’ll start with Catullus.

I. to Cornelius To whom am I giving this clever little new book just polished with dry pumice? To you, Cornelius: for you were accustomed to consider my trifles to be something already then, when you dared to explain the whole history of the Italians in your three books, Jupiter, books learned and laborious! Therefore have you whatever of this book, for what it’s worth; o patron virgin, may it remain enduring for more than one age.

I. ad Cornelium

CVI dono lepidum nouum libellum arida modo pumice expolitum? Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas meas esse aliquid putare nugas iam tum, cum ausus es unus Italorum omne aeuum tribus explicare cartis doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis. quare habe tibi quidquid hoc libelli qualecumque; quod, patrona virgo plus uno maneat perenne saeclo.

Other Catullus Translations of Mine: II. The Tears of Lesbia's Sparrow III. The Tears of Lesbia's Sparrow IV. to Lesbia

If you want to know what I looked like about 20 years ago, be sure to check out this blog’s new look.  There was a stock picture in the new design until yesterday, but now, the reading girl is me.

When I think of Library School, I think of the Florida State University School of Library and Information Studies.  It’s called the College of Information now.  When I was in second grade, my dad went to library school.  He wanted to be a law librarian.  I spent a lot of time there.  I remember it better than I remember my mom’s part of the university, which was the Department of Religion.

I first checked out D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths from the children’s library there. I made rubbings from a big clay fountainy thing in the front hall of the building. I spent a lot of time sitting outside the computer place (it’s probably all different now) being bored.

The grad students used to keep puzzles on card tables there, and my mom and I would do them.

My eighth birthday was spent in that building, being anxious and uncertain about the future.  And bored.  For some reason whenever I sat in front of the computer part of the library school, I never had a book.  Or perhaps I only had a few, and finished them too quickly.

It’s all coming together a bit now.  I’m reading Peter Pan.  It feels like home, because the Comden and Greene musical is fairly faithful to the book, and I know the musical very well.  I watched that musical on a big projector in the library school.  It may have been around the time of my dad’s graduation.  I’m not sure.  I remember eating petit-fours.

This is how my memory is constructed.  I like to make books part of my memories of a place, as much as smells or sounds.  Library School will always equal D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths to me.

There are few things quite as thrilling as getting a package from Amazon.  Amazon usually means media for me, and I love media.  Especially books.

Today’s box brought On Pointe, the readergirlz pick this month, and the 2007 Children’s Writer’s and Illustrator’s Market.  I’m enjoying both.  I’m especially excited about the articles in CW&IM.  There’s some synchronicity in my life, as the only book at the airport that looked interesting was Death Dance, leading me to read two books about dancers at once.  I don’t have dance class tonight because it’s spring break for most of the younger students, but I figure reading about dance should make up for it.

I wish I could figure out what my favorite Amazon box ever contained.  Do you have a favorite package you’ve ever received?  Especially a book you or someone else ordered for you, perhaps?

Here’s a new feature: each weekend here at

, I will post a question and invite other bloggers to answer it, here or in their own blogs.  I’ll also provide an explanation of how I came up with the question.

This weekend’s question:

What does it mean to have a “thorough knowledge of children’s literature”?

It’s no secret that one of my aspirations is to be a librarian, specifically a school media specialist or a public librarian for children/teens.  In looking at my local library’s job listings, I came upon the description for the children’s librarian, which included a “thorough knowledge of children’s literature” as one of its requirements.  This seems vague to me, and I’m wondering what it would take to have such knowledge.  My plan is to get a library degree and take lots of classes in children’s literature, classes with titles like “Young Adult Literature and Related Materials” and “Children’s Literature and Related Materials."  But are two semesters of class enough to grant me a thorough knowledge?  It doesn’t seem likely.  What about a lifetime of reading?  I’ve been away from Children’s Literature for a while, though I’m coming back to it now.

I’m curious to hear your answers.  Can you set me on the path to thorough knowledge?  Post your definition in the comments or in a post at your own blog.  If you post at your own blog, be sure to leave a link!  I’d love to hear from bloggers who might not read my blog as well, so if you do blog about it and get responses from others, please let me know.

Over at A Year of Reading, Franki asks us to share our own reading goals.  Here are mine!

1. Read 36 books this year.  Last year, my goal was 26 - a book every two weeks.  This year, it's 3 a month.  That seems terribly slow to me, as Little Willow reads my yearly goal each month.  I justify it to myself by saying books are her business.  To be on target with this goal I need to read three or four books in the next week or so.  I am including complete graphic novels as books for my goal, and books of all genres and lengths.  This should make it more achievable.  I'm not including individual comic books or trade paperbacks that are collections.

2. Read the entire Xanth series in chronological order.  This is a goal at which I'm chipping away extremely slowly.  Piers Anthony is my favorite author.  I'm currently 29% of the way there, but Piers is a prolific man with intentions to keep expanding the series as long as he's writing.  I'd set reading his entire oeuvre as a goal but in several of his series, one generation replaces the prior as the main characters in a book, and I can't always sustain reading when that happens.  (cf. L'Engle)

3. Read books from the Cybils 2006 shortlist.  I'm not sure of the scope of this goal yet.  Originally I was just being choosy, reading the titles that interested me from their descriptions.  Then I expanded to reading all the Sci-Fi/Fantasy, the graphic novels, and the middle grades and YA fiction.  Now I'm thinking I may just go whole hog and read all the books on there.

4. Read books as market research for writing.  They always say you should read a lot before you write, so that's what I'm doing.  I've already learned a lot, so that's exciting.  This is the least measurable of my goals.

I'm considering adding more.  Perhaps reading all the Newberys.  It looks like a good time to set the goal of reading all the Geisels, doesn't it?

What are your reading goals?

Here on vacation, I don't devote quite the same energy to reading and writing blogs that I do at home, but I am still around.  Here's a list of upcoming content:

Reviews of
Millicent Min, Girl Genius, Lisa Yee
The Last Dragon, Silvana de Mari
Pucker, Melanie Gideon
A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life, Dana Reinhardt 
Love in Shadow, Sonja Foust

Addressing Franki's post at A Year of Reading on reading goals

Answering HipWriterMama's question: "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"

From “The Mermaid” by Alfred Lord Tennyson:

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb’d I would sing and say,
‘Who is it loves me? who loves not me?’
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
                Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
                Low adown and around,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
        Springing alone
        With a shrill inner sound
                Over the throne
        In the midst of the hall;
Till that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.

To read the whole thing, go here.  You’ll also see my favorite of John William Waterhouse’s paintings, “A Mermaid."  I’m a mermaid, you know.

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled; Not prone to overstated gushing praise Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled With overstretched opinions to rephrase; But on the other hand, not fond of fools, And thus, not fond of people, on the whole; And holding to the sound and useful rules, Not those that seek unjustified control. I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least, I think I am, and usually I'm right); And when more ostentatious types have ceased, I'm still around, and doing, still, alright. In short, I'm calm and rational and stable - Or, well, I am, as much as I am able. What Poetry Form Are You?

I was originally terza rima, but after reading it decided it was slightly too extroverted for me.  This was the quiz's second assessment of me, and it suits me better.  Plus, sonnet is my favorite kind of poetry.