Even with the closing of physical locations of libraries, there are many e-books available on rising backyard chickens, as well as popular forums like BackYardChickens, so newbies can get answers to their questions.
Page six produced a deep dive into Lady Gaga's new "mystery man,." Refinery29 announced that Gaga was "wearing 2020's hottest new accessory: a normal boyfriend." The story appeared in the Daily Mail, and Business insider and People, where my mother read about the couple after checking the magazine out from the local library
I dated this normal, mystery man for seven years. Our relationship lasted all of college, and then a few years more. (A popular song from back then described being "caught in a bad romance.")
As you can guess from the fact that you've probably never heard of me, I'm not famous.
Having read Mary Slosson's review of Deep River ("Wading into murky waters," 11/11/19), I picked up the novel from my local library against my better judgment. Imagine my surprise when I found, in lieu of the reactionary, stereotype-laden, and politically tone-deaf work described by Slosson, a novel focused on the struggles of working people in the Northwest at the turn of the century.
Frustrated with the line between life and literature, Svetlana Alexievich sought a form that fused the two. From interviews, letters, bits of history that History did not want, she complied The Unwomanly Face of War: An Oral History of Women in World War II, which I once picked off a library cart while my daughters searched for graphic novels. That's where I learned about the radio operator drowning her own infant. And the "sniper girls" who, as they became more expert at death, found themselves more susceptible to love. And the woman who, among all the atrocities, thought nothing so awful as the neighing of wounded horses ("They're not guilty of anything, they don't answer for human deeds.").
"My mother didn't let me read comics growing up. She thought comics were morally low rent, for morons. Superheroes, cartoons, animation-- didn't matter. I had to go to a friend's house to look at comic books." She points to two sources as essential to turning her love of drawing into there vocation as a cartoonist. One was Addams' work (from this magazine), which she first encountered as a child in the nineteen-sixties. "'Black Maria,' 'The Goaning Board,' 'Monster Rally,' 'Drawn & Quartered,'" she says rapturously reciting titles of Addams collections. "These are books that I discovered at the browsing library at Cornell. My parents used to go to Ithaca in the summer-- they lived in student quarters and it was cheap. There were other Brooklyn school-teachers, mostly Jewish, mostly without children. When my parents took me, they let me hang out."
Story goes as a high school student in New Jersey, Tommy elided he wanted to be a circus performer, but a six foot two and possessing little grace or flexibility, his options felt limited. He didn't come from a circus family and didn't have the physique of a typical aerialist or tumbler. What he wanted most of all was to wrestle an alligator. When he learned about sword swallowing, he thought it could take him to the circus, the gators.
He checked out a bunch of books on swallowing swords from the library and spread them across his bed, desk and floor. Their illustrated pages provided step-by-step instructions and accounts of some of history's most famous sword swallowers. He got to work.
My parents owned a book called "You Can Heal Your Life" by Louise Hay along with a matching set of affirmation cards, which my mother kept in her nightstand. Hay claims all illnesses result from fear and anger.
I went to the library and checked it out, wondering what am I afraid of?
Confident I could solve the problem with mind power, I visualized myself as healthy.
At a local library, she found sustenance in writers as diverse as Jane Austen, Zane Grey and William Makepeace Thackeray. She also discovered the black poet Paul Laurence Dunbar. The opening lines of his “Little Brown Baby” (“Little brown baby with spa’klin’ eyes/ Come to yo’ pappy an’ set on his knee”) moved her, she later said because her father had already left.
The character of Henry Daunt is inspired by the magnificent real-life photographer of the Thames Henry Taunt. Like my Henry, he had a houseboat kitted out as a darkroom. In the course of a lifetime he took some 53,000 photographs using the wet collodion process His work came close to being destroyed when, after his death, his house was sold and his garden workshop dismantled. On learning that many thousands of he glass plates stored there had already been smashed or wiped clean for use as greenhouse glass, a local historian, Harry Paintin, alerted E. E. Skuse, the city librarian in Oxford. Skuse was able to stop the work and arrange real of the surviving plates for safekeeping. I note their names here out of gratitude for their swift actions. It is thanks to them that I have even able to explore the Victorian Thames visually and weave this story around Taunt’s images. [p.461]
She was a reader. She read all the time. The Seattle Post Intelligencer accompanied her breakfast of coffee with sugar and cream skimmed off the top of the milk bottle. The evenings Aberdeen Daily World enlivened cocktail hour. Magazines like Time, Saturday Evening Post, or Life engaged her as she sat in her chair to the right of the fireplace. Stretching out on the couch after the housework was done, she devoured novels from the library, mysteries, the latest arrival from the Book-of-the-Month Club. She often reread her favorite book, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. My sisters and I also reread it often, recognizing the heroine, Cassandra Mortmain and our mother as kindred spirits. Cassandra also was sensible, outgoing and a doer....
I wonder whether he kept a dry eye as he tried to comfort his readers: "There is no need to shed tears for a vanished institution..." and promised to preserve the Post's Morgue as a valuable historical reference. He knew that morgue would be cared for. The fifty-seven volumes of news and features are still accessible, in large part because of the newspaper's glossy book stock holds up and displays photographs well. The full collection is maintained by the Aberdeen Timberland Library, on microfilm by the state of Washington, and in both forms in my guestroom closet.
Did you read poetry as a child? What books made you fall in love with poetry?
As a western Washington State '30s family we had few books. My mother was a reader, though, and every Saturday we drove into north Seattle to check out the university district library and the thrift stores. It seems I heard Whitman, Robert Frost, Poe and Robert Burns before I could read.
Several months ago, a co-worker asked me for the name of my celebrity crush.
"Carrie Brownstein," I said.
I didn't really have a celebrity crush, but Carrie's name jumped out. On "Portlandia," she was smart, whimsical and tough. I had checked out her memoir from the library the previous week and had just begun reading it.
Estevez--whose onscreen history with libraries goes back to The Breakfast Club in the 1980s-- was so taken with Ward's essay that he bought the film rights to it and worth a script inspired by it. After several starts and stops, Estevez's move, The Public is opening Friday in theaters nationwide,
Estevez saw what Ward was describing years before the essay was published. Estevez did most of the research for his 2006 drama Bobby about the days before Robert F. Kennedy's assassination, in the Los Angeles Public Library.
Children's Dance Theatre artistic director Mary Ann Lee has a special place in her heart for a performance called "The Dancing Man." [1]
Lee found the book on which the performance is based the same year that CDT founder Virginia Tanner died."I came across the book when I was living in New Jersey," Lee said. "It was 1979. I remember being in a library and looking up. I saw this book. The title was one I just couldn't refuse. So I reached up and opened it."
The Children's Dance Theatre, in celebration of its 50th anniversary will present an all new production of "The Dancing Man," along with Jayne Luke's "Dance Journeys . . . Life Journeys," Chara Huckins' "Flight" and Jacque Lynn Bell's "Go," Thursday through Saturday, April 8-10, in the Capitol Theatre.
It's a warm October day and I have nothing else to do but what I'm told and what harm is there in wandering up to Fifth Avenue where the lions are. The librarians are friendly. Of course I can have a library card, and it's so nice to see young immigrants using the library. I can borrow four books if I like as long as they're back on the due date. I ask if they have a book called "The Lives of the Poets" by Samuel Johnson, and they say, My, my, my, you're reading Johnson. I want to tell them I've never read Johnson before, but I don't want them to stop admiring me. They tell me feel free to walk around, take a look at the Main Reading Room, on the third floor. They're not a bit like the librarians in Ireland, who stood guard and protected the books against the likes of me.
The sight of the Main Reading Room, North and South, makes me go weak at the knees. I don't know if it's the two beers I had or the excitement of my second day in New York, but I'm near tears when I look at the miles of shelves and know I'll never be able to read all those books if I live till the end of the century. There are acres of shiny tables where all sorts of people sit and read as long as they like, seven days a week, and no one bothers them unless they fall asleep and snore. There are sections with English, Irish, American books, literature, history, religion and it makes me shiver to think I can come here anytime I like and read anything as long as I like if I don't snore.
In the summer of 1994, not long after finishing her dissertation, [1] Deborah Harkness stumbled on a long-lost manuscript in the stacks of Oxford's centuries-old Bodleian Library. "It once belonged to Queen Elizabeth I's astrologer, the mathematician and alchemist John Dee [2]. It was called 'The Book of Soyga,' and he prized it above all of his other texts. I found it, hiding in plain sight, among the Bodley manuscripts," [3] she says. Harkness -- now a historian of science and medicine at the University of California -- wove the experience into her best-selling All Souls trilogy, a rich, sprawling historical fantasy about a vampire scientist, a history professor who discovers she's a witch and an enchanted manuscript a the Bodleian.COMMENT
She comes from a family of readers; her mother was a historian before emigrating to the United States and often took Edim and her younger brothers to the library, where they would stock up on books. That's where she discovered Maya Angelou's "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings."
"I remember my first book report on Maya Angelou. I had an A.P. English teacher really critique her and be like, 'She's not a good writer,'" Edim recalled, "He was looking at syntax, he was looking at grammar, he was looking at her completely different structure." But these weren't the elements that appealed to Edim. She was drawn in by Angelou's descriptions of her relationship with her brother, which reminded Edim of her own, and said Angelou "changed my thinking about literature, who can write and whose voice is important."
