An unblinking and valuable portrait of hope.

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THE BIRDS STILL SING

A debut memoir chronicles surviving—and thriving—despite postpartum depression.

Growing up on a Mennonite farm in Canada, Tallman, one of 11 children, was no stranger to hard work. Her father was an abusive disciplinarian who mellowed as the years passed (she eventually forgave him), but her mother was a kind Christian woman who was loved by many. Tallman married, and after having a girl and a boy, it seemed like she had the perfect family. At the age of 41, she had just begun a new career as a chaplain in a veterans’ hospital when she unexpectedly became pregnant with her third child. After giving birth to a beautiful baby girl, she should have been happy—but she was not. Grieving the deaths of her mother and brother, she began to spiral deeper into overwhelming depression. At her darkest moments, she shockingly contemplated killing herself—and her baby. Desperate, she turned to her doctor and, after attempting to hang herself, she was committed to a psychiatric ward. Divided into three parts, this slim memoir begins with Tallman’s story and includes some typical color family photographs. In Part II, she veers from her personal account, claiming that resilience is the key to recovery and that anyone can develop it. In this thoughtful, essaylike discussion, the author writes that “Resilience is the Result of Hundreds of Tiny Steps.” More details of her own process of recovery would have made this advice stronger, but she does note that exercise helped and describes some therapy. In Part III, she cobbles together ideas for the prevention and care of postpartum depression (for example, education). Tallman’s smooth prose flows quickly, and even though some of the experiences she recounts were rough, her voice remains gentle. Her childhood anecdotes contain a vivid mixture of lovely images and sad memories—there’s the sweet smell of farm earth being tilled in spring, and then there are the horrifying times she was molested by a teacher. Always realistic, the author’s soothing suggestions can be a helpful beginners’ guide for those who are suffering similar trauma.  

An unblinking and valuable portrait of hope.

Pub Date: Aug. 13, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-5255-4114-8

Page Count: 156

Publisher: FriesenPress

Review Posted Online: Oct. 23, 2019

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DEAR MR. HENSHAW

Possibly inspired by the letters Cleary has received as a children's author, this begins with second-grader Leigh Botts' misspelled fan letter to Mr. Henshaw, whose fictitious book itself derives from the old take-off title Forty Ways W. Amuse a Dog. Soon Leigh is in sixth grade and bombarding his still-favorite author with a list of questions to be answered and returned by "next Friday," the day his author report is due. Leigh is disgruntled when Mr. Henshaw's answer comes late, and accompanied by a set of questions for Leigh to answer. He threatens not to, but as "Mom keeps nagging me about your dumb old questions" he finally gets the job done—and through his answers Mr. Henshaw and readers learn that Leigh considers himself "the mediumest boy in school," that his parents have split up, and that he dreams of his truck-driver dad driving him to school "hauling a forty-foot reefer, which would make his outfit add up to eighteen wheels altogether. . . . I guess I wouldn't seem so medium then." Soon Mr. Henshaw recommends keeping a diary (at least partly to get Leigh off his own back) and so the real letters to Mr. Henshaw taper off, with "pretend," unmailed letters (the diary) taking over. . . until Leigh can write "I don't have to pretend to write to Mr. Henshaw anymore. I have learned to say what I think on a piece of paper." Meanwhile Mr. Henshaw offers writing tips, and Leigh, struggling with a story for a school contest, concludes "I think you're right. Maybe I am not ready to write a story." Instead he writes a "true story" about a truck haul with his father in Leigh's real past, and this wins praise from "a real live author" Leigh meets through the school program. Mr. Henshaw has also advised that "a character in a story should solve a problem or change in some way," a standard juvenile-fiction dictum which Cleary herself applies modestly by having Leigh solve his disappearing lunch problem with a burglar-alarmed lunch box—and, more seriously, come to recognize and accept that his father can't be counted on. All of this, in Leigh's simple words, is capably and unobtrusively structured as well as valid and realistic. From the writing tips to the divorced-kid blues, however, it tends to substitute prevailing wisdom for the little jolts of recognition that made the Ramona books so rewarding.

Pub Date: Aug. 22, 1983

ISBN: 143511096X

Page Count: 133

Publisher: Morrow/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: Oct. 16, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1983

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Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.

A LITTLE HISTORY OF POETRY

A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.

In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.

Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.

Pub Date: April 21, 2020

ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Yale Univ.

Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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