I hung out with Kablooey, who is darkly funny, which I find soothing (in an existential sort of way).
I thought about all the changes I'm going to make, and the redesigns I'm going to do, and the kid's literature conferences I'm going to think about attending.
But not now. Now, I am going to shove all that stuff down to think about later, and instead talk about this bizarre yet engaging book that Diana discovered in art class:
I was talking with a few people about reluctant readers, and I was thinking about how much we want other people to like what we like. I see Diana reading Warriors and I want—so much—for her to read Watership Down.
And I want it all while knowing that inspiration is just about the most particular-to-a-person thing there is.
So, Art Fraud Detective. I think that many reluctant readers are just not ready to enter fully into a long, written narrative. Who knows why? But these same readers will go crazy over Where's Waldo? or The Diary of a Wimpy Kid Do-It-Yourself Book. And I think it's because they're doing something. And for some people that's the way it works, at least for a while.
With this book, you're looking for differences between the real works of art (mostly old masters), and their clever "forgeries" which are the exact same paintings with ridiculous things like an umbrella or a fish cleverly hidden in the background. And you use, get this, a magnifying glass that's attached to the book with a special ribbon.
Yes, it's all a bit silly, but when I see it lying on the bed, I am powerless to resist picking it up and examining the Rousseau for marks. And all of a sudden there you are, lost in a book—maybe not the way you thought you'd be, but who's counting?
Besides, I believe that every time you connect someone to a book that they love, an angel gets its wings (or maybe you get a slight karmic edge on finding good stuff people put out on the curb, I don't know).