Today is Holocaust Memorial Day. To those who say #Neveragain but support the new White House administration, or to those who didn’t vote for it but don’t feel like it is their battle to fight or perhaps feel that it is too big a battle to fight, this is the moment to speak up. Arguably it is past the moment, but do not underestimate the amount of damage that can still be done, that is actively being planned, the amount of damage that we cannot even imagine yet, and that that “damage” includes death: not just lives lost, because we know where they are and can help, but lives deliberately cast aside and rejected. Refugee lives & American lives. Future American lives. It isn’t all DT & co. either although they are empowering the meanness & smallness in this country, ironically making them grow. Here in Maine our governor has announced that on March 4th our state will no longer provide aid or help resettle refugees. (*offering my hope now that on March 4th we Mainers march forth). Instead all responsibility will shift to Catholic charities. But our federal government has suspended even interviewing refugees right now. This. Is. The. Moment. Your voice matters. Do not doubt that. Call your congressmen and women, your local elected officials. Those calls matter. Get involved. Grow our kindness, our empathy, our compassion, our essential American qualities. Not our fear. Grow our courage. Grow our voice. It’s a moment to be loud. Do so with respect, but don’t doubt for a minute that you can do both. Call it damage control, call it activism, call it goodness, call it faith & practicing your religion, call it an American right and tradition. But call. If you don’t know where to start, pick one thing and call. Do. Act. Reach. Write. Rise. Pull out all those verbs. Now is a time for verbs.
It is almost Thanksgiving, and two weeks have passed since an election that made me feel less secure in this country. When I think about gratitude this year, these events cannot be separated.
I am grateful.
I am grateful for my immediate family. They keep me grounded, and make me smile and laugh every single day.
I am grateful for the friends and family in my life that are expressing their outrage over the president-elect’s dangerous appointments and calling their congresswomen and men to ask them to take a stand against individuals who represent prejudice and hatred.
I am grateful that people who voted for Trump number among these friends and family making calls to protest Stephen Bannon’s appointment, grateful that they mean it when they say they are concerned, they are listening, they are trying.
I am grateful that people who didn’t vote for Trump who said “let’s wait and see” number among these friends and family making calls, because they have seen enough and do not want to wait to see the policies that follow such harmful appointments.
I am grateful for government employees and members of congress who speak out against racism, xenophobia, religious prejudices, homophobia, sexism and the appointments that would carry representation for all of those prejudices into the White House. Who refute or dismiss those that say, “white privilege is imagined.” Thank you for being ready to fight for and with us.
I am grateful to live in a country where dissent is allowed, where it is tradition, where it is a right. I remind myself of the many places around the globe where this is not the case and appreciate the ability I have to speak out and be heard.
I am grateful to live in a country where the people have a say in the government. Yes, it’s a democratic republic, and not a true democracy, and no, the election outcome was not the outcome I wanted, and there is a lot of fear for good reason right now. But still, I am grateful to live somewhere that there is a process in which the people have the right to be heavily involved.
I am grateful to live in a community that cares. I spent yesterday speaking to over 20 businesses in Bangor, and almost all of them contributed to a care package to deliver to an individual, a person of color, who was assaulted last week. I am grateful to live somewhere that comes out in force to say, “This is not okay.”
I am grateful for theaters and performance spaces. Theaters have formed the safest of spaces in so many people’s lives, including my own: the space where you can make yourself uncomfortable and step out and speak or sing or play or dance, and know that you are supported, the space where you can make your audience uncomfortable and it is expected and appreciated. It is part of the unspoken agreement, the invisible contract between an audience member and a performer.
I am grateful to teachers: those in my life, those in my children’s lives, those in my readers’ lives, and those all over this country, this world. I am grateful that there are people who fulfill that most precious of tasks, educating our children, and do so eagerly, willingly, and lovingly, despite the amount of time and energy involved, which goes far beyond the realm of other jobs. I am grateful for teachers who do not view the use of that time and energy as a sacrifice, but as an opportunity. I am grateful to those teachers and professors who taught me to push at the seams and pull at the strings of the narratives that pad our history, to ask, to listen, to respond, to create, to read, and read, and read.
I am grateful for libraries and librarians. I am thankful there are places I can go, more safe spaces, to seek out information and stories that help me undo those narratives and build my understanding of our society, our world. I am grateful to those librarians who actively build their collections and set out displays to allow me to do that, and to read, and read, and read.
I am grateful for children’s books. I am thankful I can return from the library with bagfuls of books to share with my children. I am grateful those books show brown and tan and pink and yellow and rainbow people making peace, making friends, making music, making signs, making rebellions, making adventures. I am grateful for the mirrors and windows and empathy in those books. I am grateful for nonsensical, nonhuman, fantastical books, too. They also offer mirrors and windows, but perhaps those mirrors came from a funhouse, and maybe the windows from a moving high-speed train.
I am grateful for the children’s book community. I am grateful to belong to a community that creates stories children and young adults (and let’s be honest, adults, too) can disappear into and/or absorb into their skin, after which they feel more visible. I am grateful for We Need Diverse Books and the conversations they push, and for The Brown Bookshelf and the commitment they’ve cultivated “toward the goals of equality, justice, and peace.” I am grateful to belong to a community that is able to self-reflect and critique and revise.
I am grateful for readers. Oh readers, I am above all thankful for you. You give us our purpose. You move our goals. You inspire us every time we type a word. You bring our stories to life. Your voice matters. You are powerful. We care. I care. Thank you for keeping us accountable.
Today is my birthday, and I have decided to share my wishlist of amazing gifts that you could give me or any other children’s book author or illustrator. I know you’ve been wondering. So here you go, my friends.
11 Meaningful Gifts To Give A Children’s Book Author Or Illustrator
- Stop by your local library and ask if they have their book. If they don’t because it’s checked out, great! But if they don’t yet own a copy, ask them to order it. If librarian tells you to add it to a suggestion box, please do! Chances are, it will be ordered.
- Stop by your local bookstore and ask if they carry their book. If not, ask them to order it.
- Stop by your local elementary/middle/high school and ask if the book is in the school library. If not, ask them to order it.
- Write a review of their book on Goodreads, Amazon, or another online platform of your choice.
- Add their book to your Goodreads to-read list. They won’t be offended if you admit if you haven’t read it yet. They’ll be delighted by the addition! Those numbers matter!
- Tell a friend about their book. Heck, tell a stranger about their book.
- Turn to social media. Post or tweet about their book. Like their author page. Suggest people like their author or illustrator page. Share a post they have written. If their book is new (and they have made one), visit, comment on, and/or like their SCBWI Book Blast page!
- If that author does school visits (hey, New England & tri-state area, friends, I do!), tell your school’s PTO, principal, and/or teachers that you think the author would be a fabulous choice for a school event. The NUMBER ONE way that authors schedule school visits is through word of mouth! That’s you, friends!
- Purchase their book to gift to a child in your life.
- Purchase their book to donate to a classroom, school library, public library, or literacy drive.
- Read their book to a child in your life. Read any book you love to a child in your life. Continue that circle of connection, communication, and compassion that occurs when you read aloud to someone.
Do you have any other ideas? Share them below! Thank you for your birthday wishes!
I am excited to announce that I am launching a series of workshops for young writers. These weekly writing workshops will be held in downtown Bangor starting in September. Stay tuned for more details and sign-up in the next few weeks!
I returned from my very first NESCBWI (New England Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) conference two weeks ago. I went into the conference excited and nervous, feelings not unlike those I experienced before going to summer camp or a new school. I expected to learn a lot, and I did, although not always the things I expected. Here are some of my overall take-aways.
- An author’s an author, no matter how small. Okay, so this was a joint Dr. Seuss and NESCBWI lesson. I heard some fabulous authors and illustrators speak. I felt daunted by their success, their ever-growing lists of publications, their awards, their name recognition. But by the end of the conference I noticed a common theme running through their speeches: they’ve all experienced self-doubt at some point in their career, and often in between books. Whether you’ve just published your first book or your ninth, you start all over again on the next one. At some point that new project will try to break your heart, be it at the writing, querying, revising, or post-publication stage, or possibly (but hopefully not) at all of them! That doesn’t mean you’re less of an author. It means you ARE an author.
- It’s all about balance. It was tempting to attend only workshops on subjects I already love. However, I realized through trial and error that balancing those close-to-home workshop topics with ones less familiar kept my creativity sparking and my wheels turning.
- Get uncomfortable. Likewise, whether attending a workshop on a topic that was out of my comfort zone or doing something like reading at an open mic event, I felt most energized and excited in the places I felt the least comfortable.
- Be kind. One keynote speaker mentioned he tries to be kind. The conference in general made me remember, for the thousandth time in my life, what a big difference kindness makes. Whether it was fellow writers telling me how much they liked my book or manuscript, or friends and hotel employees helping me find places to pump (fist bump to all the working nursing mamas out there!), those moments that glowed as they happened still glow now. I tried and am still trying to make some of those moments for others, too. That reminder to be kind never grows old for me.
- Make stories, not mistakes. At the end of a long first conference (and travel) day I realized I’d been walking around with a lint sheet stuck to my bottom for the entire day. It was at that point I decided to laugh and said, “I make stories, not mistakes.” So let me tell you about the time I walked around with a lint sheet stuck to rear end for an entire day…
- Drink water. Lots of it. I thought I’d learned this years ago, but I battled a migraine after an accidentally dehydrated first afternoon. All that excitement! Oops.
- Kidlit authors and illustrators are fun. Enough said.
- Take the energy and run. After I returned home I could have just collapsed. Well, no, I couldn’t have. My supervisors (ages 3.5 years & 18 months) would not have allowed it. But all that travel time and conference adrenaline caught up with me fast once I walked back in my door. I count myself lucky that I happened to have a school visit coming up one week later. It kept me motivated to open up my conference notes and get to work right away. I wanted to incorporate some of the fabulous ideas and information I’d learned. As soon as I cracked that binder open my to-do list grew. I had e-mails to write, events to plan, and stories to write. Plus that presentation to fine tune and practice. (I knew all those years of public speaking contests and theater classes would come in handy some day!) If I or my boys had allowed my collapse, I might have let a lot slide. Instead, I have a presentation I feel great about, new connections online and in real life who make my writing gig feel a little less isolating, schemes afoot, and stories simmering.
- (Re)invent yourself. The conference theme, “(Re)invention,” struck a chord with me. Beforehand, I had this vague sense of an impending comeuppance. Even before the conference I noticed that a new writer friend and I had both thought the other belonged in some way that the other one didn’t. I soon learned that “imposter syndrome” is a common symptom of being a writer. My (re)invention was just that, a re-identification, recreation, and recognition of myself as an author, a writer, and a member of a particularly fabulous and quirky group of people.
Thank you to all of the conference organizers, especially co-directors Josh Funk, Heather Kelly, and Marilyn Salerno, as well as speakers and workshop presenters, including Anna Staniszewski, Jane Yolen, Wendy Mass, Jen Malone, Ammi-Joan Paquette, Patrick Carman, Zaneta Jung, Tara Lazar, Jarrett J. Krosoczka, Mary E. Cronin & Bonnie Jackman, Colby Sharp, Matt Forrest Esenwine, and Amitha Knight. And to the hotel employee who opened a locked door for me rather than making me trudge back to the jam-packed elevator. You all inspired me! Here’s to an imaginative year ahead!
What are some favorite events or sources of inspiration in your professional life? What have they taught you?
It has been a busy couple of months around here. Thérèse Makes a Tapestry officially launched on March 8th, and I’ve been thrilled with the response. From positive reviews to feature articles, and even a t.v. interview, people have been receptive and excited. The biggest treat has been the events with family, friends, and new readers.
In Bangor, ME The Briar Patch hosted a launch party and book signing, complete with a collaborative weaving project thanks to the generosity of One Lupine Fiber Arts. It was so well attended that the bookshop sold out of copies of Thérèse! (Never fear, they’re back in stock!)
In my hometown of Princeton, MA the Cultural Council and Princeton Public Library sponsored yet another launch party and book signing. I felt stunned by the turnout of family, friends, those friends who have become family over so many years, and teachers.
A special note on teachers. I’ve been fortunate to have some wonderful teachers over the years, the kind that every child and young adult deserve to have. The kind that taught and pushed and guided and applauded and listened, and most of all believed. The kind that made you want to be and become your best self. The kind that not only witnessed some of your darkest moments, but that buoyed you up rather than giving up. I felt overwhelmed to see those same teachers come out and support me years, even decades, after I’d left their classrooms.
One of those teachers had organized the book signing that day. When I was in fifth grade, my soon-to-be sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Susan Roney-O’Brien, took me under her word-feathered wing. She and a fellow local poet, the late (and oh so great) Juli Nunlist, ran a series of workshops for young writers out of Juli’s red barn studio. Together they nurtured my writing. They taught me lessons in storytelling and friendship I’ll never forget. Mrs. O helped me publish a chapbook of poetry in eighth grade, and put together a reading and book signing then, too. She said yes to any project I brought forth to her over the years, and has always been ready to listen, read, and talk. It is in large part thanks to Mrs. O’s guidance and mentorship over the years that I am an author today. Her poetry is remarkable. Read her new book, Legacy of the Last World, and you’ll see what I mean.
This past weekend I designed a table for the 2016 Annual Literacy Tea held by the Literacy Volunteers of Bangor. What a fun event! Every table is themed around a children’s book, and I thoroughly enjoyed designing a table for Thérèse Makes a Tapestry, not to mention seeing the enormous creativity among all the other tables. Over 300 people attended the tea, including volunteers and students. Lest there be any doubt, children’s books and tea parties are meant for each other. The fact that this one could help raise money (nearly $20,000!) for an organization that does such important work made it that much more fabulous.
In other news, I wrote all winter and have a couple of picture book manuscripts to show for it. Fingers crossed for next steps.
Happy New Year! It’s 2016, the year of Thérèse! The official publication date is March 8th of this year, woohoo! But right now I’m here to actually share some of my experience from the end of 2015 when the first small wave of publication occurred. Thérèse Makes A Tapestry became available for purchase from the J. Paul Getty Museum — on site and online — in mid-December. I was fortunate to be able to travel to Los Angeles for this initial “soft launch” as well as the opening of Woven Gold, the exhibit to which Thérèse is tied.
The Getty Museum (photo by Alexandra Hinrichs)
Most of my trip was spent at the Getty Center, and honestly I would go back and do the same thing all over again. What an incredible museum! I couldn’t get over the fact that it is free to the public–you just have to pay for parking if you drive (which obviously, in LA, you do). The site alone is spectacular: the architecture, the views, the gardens. Then there are the exhibits. I had a single track on repeat in my head: “Wow.” In another landscape it might all be sensory overload, but weaving in and out of the museum was completely relaxing. The breaths of fresh air, the sunshine, and the glimpses of hills and ocean built pauses into the days. Except at night where the cold wind was more a shock to the system, but that was a different story.
On Sunday I stopped by the main bookstore to sign copies of Thérèse. Walking into a bustling store and seeing my book on the shelf was an event in and of itself. My father and my cousin and their friends were with me which brought on all the oohing and aahing I could hope for. If you want fanfare for things like the publication of your first book, it’s best to travel with family.
These are the things I learned from signing copies:
- I should have a favorite pen I like to use. I do not yet. I’m working on this. (That’s not entirely true–I have a type of pen I love to use and I fondly recall the experience of writing with it, but I can’t remember what kind of pen it actually is and whether I own it. I have tried unsuccessfully to reproduce this writing experience.)
- I am clearly a newbie at this because I plowed through the towering stack of books and even signed another towering stack and laughed off a comment about my hand cramping. As if hand cramps could stop me from signing! I was so excited! Some day I hope to be a really famous, hand-cramped author who cannot bear to sign another copy. Or at least who will do a better job a playing it cool.
- where to sign my name on the title page.
- that it is actually possible to misspell my name.
On Monday I finally got to meet members of the book team in person! This included my wonderful editor for Thérèse, Elizabeth Nicholson, who took us on a tour of Getty Publications. The set-up brought me back to my American Girl days and I felt right at home, except there were wall to ceiling windows that let in the most incredible amount of natural light everywhere and had some unbeatable views. Then it was off to the big press event up the hill.
The highlights, not in chronological order, from the press event were:
- meeting Renée Graef in person. I can’t state enough how in love I am with Renée’s illustrations of Thérèse, and I was glad to finally be able to give her the hug I’d been hanging onto for so long! In fact, I’d actually met her briefly back in Madison at a Wisconsin Book Festival Event after an illustrators’ panel (that also included Kevin Henkes). Funny that our next encounter should be in Los Angeles, and amazing that it should be after working together on a picture book! Things worth noting: she wears fabulous hats.
- meeting Charissa Bremer-David in person. Charissa is another person about whom I can just gush. Curator of sculpture and decorative Arts at the Getty, she is an expert on French decorative arts, and her expertise shines through in the new exhibit catalog Woven Gold as well as her other books on French tapestries. Charissa is so knowledgable and gracious with her time and willingness to share that knowledge. She always took time to talk to me on the phone or by e-mail, answer questions and even to do original research when we ran across a stumbling block over how gilded thread was made, all while organizing this monumental exhibit, working on two books of her own, and contributing to goodness knows how many other projects.
- signing more copies of Thérèse for various reporters and especially signing copies to each other (Renée, Charissa, Elizabeth, and I called this our “yearbook signing,” and it was full of smiles and laughs).
- the chocolate peppermint cookies.
- and finally…seeing the tapestries.
Oh my goodness. Walking into a room full of these enormous tapestries is truly spectacular. Breathtaking. There is nothing that compares to seeing them in person. No photographs or descriptions can possibly do them justice, because their grandeur in size and in material cannot be adequately captured. I felt extra lucky to be seeing them with Charissa as a tour guide. She is quite the storyteller herself. For me, seeing the tapestry called The Chateau of Monceau/Month of December was particularly emotional. This is the tapestry that inspired Thérèse, and Thérèse weaves its likeness. I had looked at this tapestry in books, on computer monitors and iPhone screens, and lived with it in my head for a couple of years. So when we entered the final room of Woven Gold and there it was…well…my eyes weren’t exactly dry. The gold threads glint in the light in a way they just can’t in pictures. The range of colors and the minute details are extraordinary.
The textures beg to be touched. I wanted to touch it. I didn’t. But I really really wanted to. The Chateau of Monceau/Month of December was actually cleaned in Belgium and conserved by weavers at the Gobelins Manufactory (now part of the Mobilier National) over a period of 9 months in preparation for the Woven Gold exhibit.
Across the room in mirror image is another smaller version of the tapestry. The first was made for Kind Louis XIV, the other for a private patron at a slightly later date. Both these versions of the Chateau of Monceau/Month of December are depicted in Thérèse Makes A Tapestry. In between the two tapestries in the exhibition room is a table with a couple of books on display, including Thérèse. I love that she is there, hugged by the tapestries she “made” and that made her.
By the time we went to the exhibit opening that night, I didn’t think I could feel much happier. Champagne toasts with the book team and another visit to the tapestries proved me wrong. And this time I got to show my family– my dad, my cousin, and my brother– the tapestries, too.
Tuesday we returned to the Getty one last time in the morning. It’s hard to explain the connection I felt to the tapestry, it wasn’t something I anticipated to be honest. But I found myself wanting to see it one last time. Chances are I will never see the tapestry again, and I wanted to feast my eyes on it one last time and say goodbye. I did, and felt satisfied even if a bit sad. However, then I got to go to another exhibit and get some inspiration for a new book. And my dad, brother, and I spent the afternoon in Santa Monica, which was the perfect note to end the trip on before heading back to the hotel to pack up for early flights.
Throughout the visit what struck me most was how special this whole project really was. I mean, of course I like to think everyone loved this book. It was my first book! But meeting everyone in person– Elizabeth, Renée, Charissa, designer Jim Drobka, production manager Elizabeth Kahn, and others– I kept thinking, “Wow, they all loved this project, too!” It’s hard to gauge that from a distance (or at least a distance of Maine to California). The reminder of their investment meant the world to me.
If you are anywhere near the Getty or planning a trip to the area between now and May, I urge you all to run to the Woven Gold exhibit. Some of these tapestries have not been together in centuries, and most have never been so accessible to view as they are often hung at lofty heights and not at eye level. It is remarkable and luxurious and the stories within the tapestries are a treat.
For more information about the exhibit and the history of tapestries, take a look at the articles below:
- Review: ‘Woven Gold: Tapestries of Louis XIV’: Splendid pomp and circumstance at the Getty (LATimes)
- Tapestries of Louis XIV Are ‘Woven Gold’ (Forbes)
- Weave through Woven Gold at The Getty (Examiner)
- Woven Gold: Tapestries of Louis XIV (HuffingtonPost)
- Getty Center’s ‘Woven Gold’ centers on Louis XIV tapestry masterpieces (SCPR)
Also be sure to watch The Art of Making a Tapestry, a video that shows the weaving process at the Gobelins Manufactory. (Getty Museum)
Explore the full gallery of photos from the trip
Check out Bruce Dean’s website to see even more of his photography and artwork.
Early reviews of Thérèse Makes A Tapestry are beginning to emerge. They are all positive so far (yay!), but I know that I already have the best review I could ever receive.
My mother gave me her official review last spring. She passed away in July. The dedication of the book to her was supposed to be surprise when it came out in print. I remain grateful to the team at Getty Publications for overnighting a final draft for her viewing in the days before she died. So yes. Thanks, Mom. I’ve already won the review game.
I spent Monday and Tuesday of this week at the Maine Library Association’s Annual Conference: Engage 2015. This was my first time attending, and my first conference in the last five years. My conclusions were: librarians are the best. MLA welcomed me with open arms. In fact, they actually sponsored my attendance. I had called to see if they might be willing to still give me the early bird discount even though I had missed the deadline given that I’m looking for a job and finances are a bit tight. Their response was incredible. They quickly replied that they would be delighted to sponsor my attendance this year and in exchange I could volunteer at the registration table. Well, really, that was the best thing I could have done anyway. It immediately put me at ease talking, and I met so many people right away. From this whole experience I learned that a) it never hurts to ask and b) librarians are awesome. I already knew both of these things, but boy did this confirm it for me. Oh, and c) volunteering is a great way to network.
It felt good to be back among librarians. Here were some of the highlights:
Maine State librarian Jamie Ritter spoke about democracy in libraries and the importance of maintaining our shared core principles of intellectual freedom and privacy. He described silence as an incredible phenomenon, and despite the stereotype of librarians with a ready “shh” on their lips, the reason and importance of quiet is for thinking. As he explained it, “libraries are deliberate in providing opportunities for [the experience of thinking].” The library is a place to exercise our right to think and the right to our privacy in those thoughts.
Of course, I (and I’m sure other youth services librarians) could not help thinking of the youngest patrons who often think out loud and process through noise. Thankfully the two thought-provoking experiences can peacefully coexist in a library!
Another noteworthy session featured Gardiner Public Library Director Anne Davis (winner of this year’s Outstanding Librarian award) and Belfast Free Library Director Steve Norman as they discussed advocating for libraries. They championed local advocacy as the best way of creating change. By attending community meetings, getting involved with local organizations, and making your library a site for civic debate and civic events, you gain allies and establish yourself as an active and vocal member. Other suggestions they made: Always have a story to tell, and when possible have someone else tell your story. When advocating at a state level, contact your representatives. They
don’t hear from people about most bills, and when they do, it matters! Go to the state house and testify. Likewise, to advocate at a federal level, contact your legislators! It makes a difference.
My favorite speaker was ALSC President Andrew Medlar. He transformed us, a tired audience (it was
the last presentation at the end of the day), to singing, clapping, laughing, and feeling playful and inspired once more. He mentioned that the majority of the kids being born this week are expected to live into the next century. He spoke about ALSC’s big mission — ensuring that libraries are recognized as vital to all children and the communities that support them — and some of its initiatives towards this goal (“Media Mentorship”, Every Child Ready to Read, Building STEAM with Día, and Día! Diversity in Action, for example). He concluded by asking us to think of one person we’d reach out to in the next month to tell them how awesome libraries are — and you, if you’re still reading this post, should do the same!
Tuesday began with ALA President Sari Feldman — a fellow UW-Madison SLIS alum (woohoo!). She spoke of the ways libraries transform people and communities, and of librarians as change agents. We need to take calculated risks. We do change people’s lives! She pondered how libraries can tap into the sharing economy more. She too emphasized the need for libraries to continue to protect the right to privacy and freedom of inquiry when there is so much before Congress right now chipping away at those ideals. One of the most interesting points came out in the Q&A (doesn’t it so often happen that way?), and that was that in traveling around the globe, Feldman has come to understand and appreciate that libraries are very American institutions–the large number of public, school, and academic libraries all over this country are unique and greatly respected around the world.
The last session I’ll talk briefly about was on Whole Person Reader’s Advisory, and included many useful suggestions, but in particular was the tip to say to a reader, “Tell me about the book,” that they have read or that they are looking for even if it is a book you know. Doing so gives them the opportunity to relive their experience of the book and helps them connect to you, but chances are their choice of words will also tell you something more about what exactly they liked about the book and offer clues towards the next book they’ll love.
And on that practical note, I will end my MLA conference recap. Okay not quite. I have to say again: librarians are awesome.