Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices

Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices was written by Paul Fleischman and illustrated by Eric Beddows.  It was published by Harper Trophy in 1988.

I. Loved. This. Book. And I am so upset with myself that I just found out about it.  I feel as though my third grade students would have had so much fun with this poetry, working in pairs to express the poems in their own unique ways.  One thing I have realized through this class and blogging is that I didn't expand my students' worlds enough.  I was so bogged down in my first few years of teaching, ensuring that I covered everything that would be on the test, I didn't always have time to expose them to all of the other jewels out there.  I would have loved for them to read this, and so many other gems I have found this semester, but always felt fear that if someone walked into my room and I wasn't teaching something they would be tested on, I was going to get into trouble.  I can guarantee that when I go back to the classroom, there will be more time spent on books like Joyful Noise.

Joyful Noise, a Newbery Medal winner (1989), is a collection of poems, all written by Paul Fleischman.  All of his poems are from the perspective of a particular insect, and as it is supposed to be read by two readers at once, sometimes reading simultaneously and sometimes reading independently of each other, with each reader reading from top to bottom in their own column. As I read, it felt like the insects were having conversations with each other. I read some of the poems with my husband and some of them with two voices in my head.  It was definitely more fun to read them aloud with my husband and you could hear the back and forth of the conversation much better that way. 

The way Fleischman wrote each poem was very representational of the insect he was writing about.  I had two favorite poems -- Honeybees and Whiligig Beetles.  I felt that these two, in particular, made you get in to the mind frame of that insect.  In Honeybees, the first person is speaking from the perspective of a worker bee and the second from the perspective of a queen bee. What they have to say and the experience they are describing are completely different, and as someone listening to the poem, you would have to follow the back and forth of each reader to keep track of which bee was speaking.  In the poem, Whiligig Beetles, I felt as though it was a whirlwind experience.  With reader two repeating exactly what reader one read just ahead, it sounds a moving fan or a lot of bugs constantly moving around.  This poem reminded me of when I was a child and would sing songs in rounds on family trips with my mother and sister. 

 As I stated in one of my other posts, I like rhyming poetry the best, but these poems were very fun and purposeful for me. I am always looking at things through the eyes of a teacher, and the poems in Joyful Noise would have so many uses within the classroom. I would love to see groups of students acting the poems out, creating illustrations to go with each poem, writing their own two-voice poems, and using their problem solving and cooperation skills to ensure the poem is spoken in the correct way without getting mixed up with the two columns. I found a video of two girls from Pine City High School interpreting some of the poems from Joyful Noise.  They did both of my favorites, and it sounded exactly as I imagined! To check out their video, click Joyful Noise Youtube.  You won't regret it!

Stitches

Stitches was written and illustrated by David Small.  It was published in 2009 by W.W. Norton and Company.

What a powerful book.  When I picked up the book, Stitches, and realized it was a graphic novel, my initial thought was, "This book can't be all that engaging, it's a graphic novel."  My experience with graphic novels is pretty much limited to Diary of a Wimpy Kid.  I didn't think anything too serious or thought provoking was going to come from a book of many pictures and few words.    Oh, how I was wrong.

I read the front and back end covers to get a little background about David Small.  There, it explains that he came from a family that didn't express emotion and kept the fact that he had cancer a secret from him.  Although it was surprising to read that, I don't think it was necessary to have that preview on the inside front and back covers.  I say that because the graphic novel was so well written that you can immediately feel the disance his parents put between themselves and the children. "Mama had her little cough. Once or twice, some quiet sobbing, out of sight.  Or the slamming of doors. WHAP! That was her language. Dad, home from work, went down to the basement and thumped a punching bag.  That was his language." We didn't need a prelude to know that these parents were neglectful and mean to David and his brother, Ted.  The illustrations of David's parents show them with harsh lines and scoweled faces the majority of the time. Whenever they interacted with him, it was to scold him about the amount of money he was wasting on one thing or the other. At the beginning of the book, when David was six, he still held on to some hope.  He loved his parents and wanted them to be there for him.  He sat during his x-rays, had a vivid imagination with his brother when they went to pick his father up from the hospital, enjoyed playing as a typical little boy, such as when he went sock skating down the hallways of the hospital, and still thought of his dad as a superhero.  "To me, dad and his colleauges seemed like the heroic men featured in the ads in Life magazine.  Marching braely into the bright and shining future.  They were soldiers of science, and their weapon was the x-ray.  X-rays could see through clothes, sking, even metal.  They were miracuous wonder rays that would cure anything."  It's a shame they didn't realize what it was doing to David. 

David held on to his childhood the best he could, but when he turned eleven, everything changed. A family friend, Mrs. Diller, saw a growth under David's skin on his neck. It took over three years for his parents to take David into surgery to determine what the growth was, as "they didn't have the money for it."  Although, the selfish parents they were, they had the money for boat trips, new furniture, new clothes, and whatever else David's mother wanted at the time . When his neck was checked, the doctors realized it was cancer.  The surgery to cut the tumor out left David without his thyroid and  vocal cords.  He was fourteen years old and could no longer speak when he needed to. The worst part was, his parents didn't tell him it was cancer.  This was yet another example of how disconnected from reality and how selfish his parents were.  They seemed to only care about themselves and making themselves look good in front of the doctor's Mr. Small worked with, and did not attend to their chidrens' needs at all.

One aspect David made obvious through his story was the mental illness that ran through his mother's side of the family. At age eleven, David and his mother went to Indiana to visit his grandmother.  His grandmother was very harsh, and you can see where his mother learned to push down her emotions, but his grandmother was also abusive.  She burned David's hands in scalding water in retaliation of David saying "mother says saying ain't makes you stupid."  Her grandmother aslo attempted to kill her husband by lockig him in the basement and setting fire to the house. At the end of the book, David had an eerie dream, which supports the mental illness conclusion.  He sees a building across from his home and realizes it is the insane asylum his grandmother was sent to.  In it, his mother (after she had died) sweeping the path into the asylum, clearing the way for David.  His last statement -- "I didn't."

The illustrations match the tone of the story perfectly.  David's childhood story is sad and tragic, with parents who don't care about him, lies about his heath and abuse from his grandmother, and the illustrations are dark and forboding.  Typical to graphic novels, the pictures show the sequence of events. The first series of pictures drew me in.  The first one being a shot of what looks like a coal plant in Detroit. After reading the front inside cover, my initial thought was the location of the home, close to the coal plant, is what may have caused David's cancer.  The illustrations then moved closer and closer to the house, then inside the house, and then into the room David was playing by himself.  It shows us from the beginning how lonely David was and how estranged he was from his own parents.

David Small grew up to be an incredibly successful author and illustrator.  He is a prime example of moving beyond your circumstances.  He would be a fantastic example to teach our students about, to show them that no matter what, they can become who they want to be.  To learn more about David Small and the books he has written and/or illustrated, you can read about him at DavidSmallBooks.

My Teacher Dances on the Desk

My Teacher Dances on the Desk was written by Eugene Gagliano and illustrate by Tatjana Mai-wyss.  It was published by Sleeping Bear Press in 2009.

When I was looking through the poetry section of my local library, I found many great choices, but I knew I wanted to read something fun and silly; something I would like to share with my children and students. I found that in My Teacher Dances on the Desk.  The book caught my eye because of the title.  Being a teacher, I thought, "Well, this looks like it would be something kids would enjoy. How often do they get to read about teachers being silly?"  When I opened it, it did not disappoint.

My Teacher Dances on the Desk is a collection of 46 poems, all written by former teacher, Eugene Gagliano.  When I read that he had been a teacher, the first question that entered my mind was, "I wonder if any of the poems are from true events that happened in his teaching career?" According to the synopsis written on Amazon.com, the poems were taken from personal experiences of Gagliano and his students.  "Former teacher Eugene Gagliano had a front-row seat to the everyday trials of school life. In honor of all students who have ever grappled with show-and-tell missteps and problematic classmates, he's penned a clever poetry collection, My Teacher Dances on the Desk. Episodes from every aspect of school life, from visiting the school nurse to sitting next to the wrong student, are told through humorous verse."

As I read each poem, I could picture a former student of my own or a colleagues that fit that poem perfectly, but my favorite poem in his collection is the one that reminded me most of my older son, Teacher Never Calls on Me.

Teacher Never Calls on Me
"I know! I know! I know!"
I raise my hand to say,
But teacher never calls on me.
It happens every day.

"Ooo! Ooo! Ooo!"
I stretch my hand up high,
But teacher never calls on me
No matter how I try.

I strain my face and grit my teeth.
I twist and turn and sigh,
But teacher just ignores me.
I often wonder why.

When I don't know the answer,
And hide by being still,
It's my luck she'll call on me.
I know she surely will.

This reminds me of my older son because there have been so many days he comes home from school complaining that the teacher didn't let him answer a question all day long (much exaggeration, I'm sure!).  He loves to talk in class and explain things to other people, so he doesn't quite get that he isn't the only one in class that should be called on! 

This poem book has much simpler poems than the other books I have read, but it was my favorite so far.  I like poems that rhyme.  Teaching younger students, and struggling readers, I like poems that will get students laughing and want to read several times, which will help build their fluency and word knowledge.  My Teacher Dances on the Desk also reminds me a bit of Shel Sylverstein's work.  Most pages have their own poem, with a black and white illustration next to it.  The illustrator, Tatjana Mai-wyss does her black and white illustrations using India ink and a dip pen.  I think the simplicity of the illustrations fit the poems perfectly.  There was no need for detailed drawings when the poetry allowed for you to envision what was happening within the class at the time.  You can find more about Mai-wyss at her blog, http://tatjanawyss.blogspot.com

To find a copy of My Teacher Dances on the Desk near you, check out Worldcat. 

ellington was not a street

ellington was not a street was written by Ntozake Shange and illustarted by Kadir Nelson.  It was published in 1983 by Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers.

ellington was not a street has a captivating cover, which makes you just want to pick it up.  It is just of a little African American girl holding a record, but the illustration is so beautiful with the glow in her face to the bold color of her dress, that it makes you wonder what story she has to tell. It is a book written by Ntozake Shange which portrays the poem, Mood Indigo, as a picture book.  It is from the perspective of a young girl, reflecting on the inspirational men of her time.  These men, such as W.E.B Dubois, Duke Ellington, Ray Barretto and Virgil "Honey Bear" Akins.  Written about a time where black men and women were not allowed to make daily choices, such as where to sit on a bus or go to eat, this poem shows the strengths that many black men of the time period had.  You can read the poem (exactly as written) below.

Mood Indigo

it hasnt always been this way
ellington as not a street
robeson no mere memory
du bois walked up my father's stairs
hummed some tun over me
sleeping the the company of men
who changed the world

it wasnt always like this
why ray barretto used to be a side-man
& dizzy's hair was not always grey
i remember         i was there
i listened in the company of men
politics as necessary as collards
music even in our dreams

our house was filled with all kinda folks
our windows were not cement or steel
our doors opened like our daddy's arms
held us safe & loved
children growing in the company of men
old southern men & young slick ones
sonny til was not a boy
the clovers no rag-tag orphans
our crooners/ we belonged to a whole world
nkrumah was no foreigner
virgil akins was not the only fighter

it hasn't always been this way
ellington was not a street

I didn't care for the poem written out in the picture book, but I got a lot more out of it when it was in its stanzas. When reading it as a picture book, it just felt like a story. I felt as though it lost some of its significance, as it was not read as fluidly.  The pictures within the book are stunning, winning the Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award in 2005.  They make the men in the book come alive and pop off the page, which was the best thing about the book.  At the end of the book, you can read Mood Indigo as it was originally written.  I felt more power coming from it as a poem.  The breaks in the lines make you stop and think about what you just read and you feel the importance of the repeated line -- it hasn't always been this way -- more strongly. I feel as though it sounds more significant and profound as the poem.

If you would like to read ellington was not a street, you can find it on WorldCat.  There are many other reviews of this book on Goodreads.

What the Heart Knows: Chants, Charms and Blessings

What the Heart Knows: Chants, Charms and Blessings was written by Joyce Sidman and illustrated by Pamela Zagarenski.  It was published in 2013 by Houghton Mifflin Books for Children.

I have to admit that What the Heart Wants is the first book of poems I have picked up in years.  The only other collection of poems I can even remember off the top of my head are Shel Silverstein's books.  I loved those as a child and often referred to them when I was teaching in the classroom, but haven't read a new set of poems for a very long time.  I say that because, after reading What the Heart Wants, I realize what I have been missing.  Did all of the poems strike me as wonderful? No. But there were several that hit home and made me think of personal things within my own life. 

I was engaged from the front end cover.  "For centuries, we have believed in the power of words to change our lives.  Why else wold we pray, sing or write?"  Isn't that the truth.  I'm not always an open person.  Even with my family growing up, I didn't like to talk about problems or anything that was bothering me, but I would write my feelings down.  Written words always had a special place in my heart and was my first choice in communication. Reading this reminded me of the poems I wrote as a teenager.  The way to understand me had been through my writing.  It's sad to say I've let that go.

 What the Heart Wants is separated into four categories of poems -- Chants and Charms, Spells and Invocations, Laments and Remembrances, and Praise Songs and Blessings.  This was weird to me, as I never though of most of these things as poetry.  I've always though of songs as a type of poetry, but thinking of chants, charms and spells as poetry was new to me.  I read the poems as I would expect someone who was chanting to do.  It gave me a fun twist on the poems. The two chants I found most interesting were Come, Happiness and Chant Against the Dark.

Come Happiness                                                                                   
Happiness,
you're not what everyone says:
some flashy friend
who shows up with fireworks,
trailing fame and glory.

You are more like a raindrop,
governed by mysterious principles.
You fall from the sky
and hit -- plop! -- with
a cool kiss of surprise.

Or maybe you're a heartbeat,
always there,
speaking in your low, soft voice,
pumping, warming, strengthening
under the surface of things,
just doing your work.

Happiness, you're like a breeze
sucked in by eager lungs.
You fill and feed us,
and yet somehow, in the exhale,
you are shared.

So come,
come to us, Happiness
Bathe us with your cool spray.
Fill us with your splendid breath.
Help us do your work. 

Chant Against the Dark
Don't come close, dark.
Don't brush my face with your sticky hands.
Stay as cool and distant as a train whistle.
Don't single me out,
don't make me answer your questions.
Let me curl here, safe in my circle of light.

Don't come close, dark.
Don't speak to me in your crooked tongue.
I don' want to hear your stories.
I have stories of my own
to tell myself all night.

Don't come close, dark.
Don't breathe on me.
When the lamp clicks off,
don't creak and shift
like some wild-eyed horse
waiting for its rider.

Oh, dark,
don't call my name.

I'm not sure if it was because they were back to back, but these two poems made me think of the ups and downs we have in life.  I interpreted Come Happiness to be about the good things in life.  Being full of light and living the life you want, whereas I interpreted Chant Against the Dark to be about sadness or depression.  About not allowing yourself to give in to the dark feelings. 


There was one spell and one lament I really enjoyed. They hit home with me and I could connect to what the author was writing. Gift Spell made me laugh while Where is My Body made me nostalgic.

Gift Spell
Whatever is inside
that large, flat box:

Leti t not be made of wool -- snowflake
pattern -- one arm slightly longer
than the other, knit in my formerly
favorite shade of green.
Let is not be square and thick
with stiff covers,
full of wit and wisdom.
Let it not be the hope of a new hobby.
Let it not be anything
to keep me neat, or clean, or safe.

Whatever it is,
let it shrink down
small and hard and cold.
Let it have metal teeth
and a whiff of speed.
Let it slip with a sweet jingle
into my battered jeans
as I run for the garage.

That box: It looks like something else.
But let it be freedom.

This is how I felt when I was sixteen.  I told everyone at camp that I was going to come home to a car in my driveway. I was so sure of it and wanted nothing less.  School was going to start in a week and I wanted my own car to drive there.  I only hope that the author got her wish in her gift as I did.

Where is My Body?
Where is my body?
The one I'm used to,
slim and ordinary as a twig?
What happened to the scabby knees,
forgettable front,
hips that were not really
hips at all?

Where is the hair
that shed clips like needles,
its part of a soft pathway
through shining woods?
And my face --
where are the bright, fearless eyes
and elastic mouth,
the nose that sat like a gumdrop
on smooth gingerbread skin?

Where is the body
that housed an
Olympic gymnast,
sumo wrestler,
pirate,
dancer;
all waiting, poised
in endless possibility?
When did I grow
awkward, lumpish,
a stranger in my own skin --
each day revealing
some fresh freakishness?

Where is my body -- the one I loved,
the one that was really me?

The last line of this poem gets to me.  I think that all of the time.  What happened to the person I was? The athlete? The young face in the photos of only 6-7 years ago?  And when did I change to what I am today?
I enjoyed reading What the Heart Knows.  It reminded me of how great it is to put your thoughts, feelings and life into words.  I look forward to reading more poems over the next couple of weeks.

If you would like to learn more about the Newberry Honor nominee, Joyce Sidman, you can find information on her website. 

Tales From Old Ireland

Tales from Old Ireland was retold by Malachi Doyle and illustrated by Niamh Sharkey.  It was published in 2000 by Barefoot Books.

When looking for a collection of traditional tales, Tales from Old Ireland caught my eye because it is stories from Ireland  I have ancestors from Ireland and it is on my bucket list to visit Ireland, so I thought it would be interesting to read some traditional tales from my ancestors since I have never heard any from my family.

Doyle tells us in her introduction, "The Irish oral tradition is one of the richest in the world -- stories have been told around our firesides for thousands of years and tradition has never died.  Some of the myths and legends, folk and fairy tales told now are the same ones that were heard in the times of the early Celts, long before Christianity came to Ireland.  Others were written down by monks as early as the seventh century, but most were passed on solely by word of mouth.  In the nineteenth century, people began to collect and published the songs and stories that had survived, gathering them from the country people, mainly in the Irish language. When the Irish Folklore Commission was set up in the1930s, one of the ways it went about its job was to encourage schoolchildren to ask the oldest people in their area to tell them their stories.  The greatest collection of folklore in the word was thus assembled, and it is now held at University College, Dublin."

This book has a collection of seven stories -- (1) The Children of Lir, (2) Fair, Brown, and Trembling, (3) The Twelve Wild Geese, (4) Lusmore and the Fairies, (5) Son of an Otter, Son of a Wolf, (6) The Soul Cages, and (7) Oisin in Tir na nOg. 

The first two stories reminded me of Cinderella -- The Children of Lir because it has a jealous stepmother who hates her stepchildren.  There are four children; three boys and a girl, and their new step mother hates them from the second she sets her eyes on them. She tries to have someone kill them, but is refused, so instead she turns them into swans, cursing them with 900 years of confinement to the lakes.  They are able to speak and think, but cannot change back to their human form.  When their father finds out what his new wife has done, he curses her to be ugly for the rest of her life and visits his children at the lake as often as possible.  At the end of their 900 years, they are able to turn back into humans, "but they are 900 years old, so they die."  I didn't really get the message of this tale.  They never succeeded in trumping their stepmother or moving beyond their curse.

Fair, Brown and Trembling was more like Cinderella than The Children of Lir.  It was about three sisters -- the older two, Fair and Brown, are snobby and selfish, while the youngest, Trembling is caring and selfless.  Trembling cleans the house and makes all of the meals for her sisters and mother while the others demean her and take her for granted.  While the others go to church, Trembling has to stay home in her clothing of rags.  Her henwife came into the home and asked what Trembling would like to wear. When she described her perfect dress -- "a dress as white as the winter snow with emerald shoes for my feet" -- the henwife produces it and sent Trembling to church with the warning to not enter the church and not allow any of the men to catch up with her.  This was repeated three times, with three different outfits, until a man did catch up with her.  He knocked her shoe off and had to scour the town to find Trembling and marry her. 

Although the first two stories were my favorite, I did also like Lusmore and the Fairies.  This tale had an actual message, as it shows what happens to those who are kind versus those who are mean and rude.  Lusmore is a hunchbacked man who could hear the fairies singing -- "Monday, Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, pause.  Monday, Tuesday,  Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, pause." He  started to get annoyed with the fairies only singing the two days, so on their pause, he said, "Wednesday." The fairies were so grateful for his kind word and gentle demeanor that they brought him back to their home and magically took off his hump.  He was able to stand tall for the first time in his life.  When word got out, another man tried the same thing.  Now the fairies were singing "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday" and the man gruffly yelled "Thursday Friday!"  They were so upset with him for the way he spoke to them that they took him back to their home and added another hump to his back.  I feel as thought this tale teaches others that tone is also important.  What you say is not always as important as how you say it and it can change what people think of you.

I had never heard versions of many of these tales.  I found several of them weird, as they had people mating with animals and fish being more wise than people.  If you would like to read all of the tales, you can find the book at Worldcat. 

The Secret Life of Bees

The Secret Life of Bees was written by Sue Monk Kidd.  It was published in 2002 by Penguin Books.


The Secret Life of Bees is a historical fiction book set in the time of the Civil Rights Movement.  It began soon after Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law.  I feel as though it is a loosely defined historical fiction, as it was really a story of Lily and her anguish over her life circumstances. The only reason it would be classified as historical fiction is because of the time it is set in. There are events that happen that make the reader realize it is not current times, but more on that later.

The main character, Lily, is a young white girl living with her father, T. Ray.  We find out early in the book that her mother is dead, and it is hinted that Lily is the one who accidentally killed her mother with her father's gun when she was four years old. The only thing she had of her mother's was a picture of Black Mary with the words Tiburon, South Carolina written on the back.  Since that time, she has been raised by Rosaleen, a black peach picker on her father's peach farm.  T. Ray was around, but her was an awful father.  He made Lily kneel on grits when she misbehaved.  The grits tore her knees up to the point she could barely walk.  He also hit her and showed her very little love. On Lily's 14th birthday, everything changes.  Lily had always been captivated by bees. She caught some in her jar, and realized it had taken them all day to leave the jar when she let them go.  That's when she heard a voice. "Lily Melissa Owens, your jar is open.  In a matter of seconds I knew exactly what I had to do -- leave.  I had to get away from T. Ray, who was probably on his way back this minute to do Lord-knows-what to me.  Not to mention I had to get Roseleen out of jail."  You see -- Rosaleen had dumped her snuff on white men when they tormented her about wanting to register to vote.  After she was arrested, the same men went to the jail and beat her. The police took her to the hospital to get stitches.  Lily ran away, stopping at the hospital to help Rosaleen escape.  They went to the only place she knew may get her close to her mother -- Tiburon, South Carolina.

Once in Tiburon, Lily saw another picture of the Black Mary. It was the label for a jar of honey. She found that a woman named August made the honey and found her way to August's house.  She lied her way into staying there with August and her sister's, May and June (their mother loved spring and summer).  She knew her mother had once been at this house, but couldn't bring herself to tell them why she was there. She stayed for almost two months before finally coming clean.  She loved August and her sisters, as did Rosaleen. They had become family.  She also fell in love with August's worker, Zach. "The whole time we worked, I marveled at how mixed up people got when it came to love. I myself, for instance. It seemed like I was thinking of Zach forty minutes out of every hour, Zach, who was an impossibility."  He also knew they couldn't be together. "Lily, I like you better than any girl I've ever known, but you have to understand, there are people who would kill boys like me for even looking at girls like you." 

Once Lily felt close enough to August, she told her the truth of why she was there.  I will not ruin the book by spoiling everything that happened, but just say that Kidd did a magnificent job of showing how people love each other, family or not.

Like I stated earlier, this book was much more a story of Lily's coming of age than a story of the Civil Rights Movement, but it was such a great story of Lily's coming of age that I'm willing to excuse the fact that it is slightly deceiving as a historical fiction.  Kidd wrote the characters with many dimensions.  Augusts' sister, June, started off hating Lily.  She didn't want to allow her in to the house and tried to convince August to kick her out.  "You know she is lying.  She doesn't belong her." When August continues to allow Lily to stay, June responds with, "But she's white!" June was bitter towards white people, as she never thought it was right the way whites treated blacks and hated that August worked for a white family when she was younger.  By the end of the book, June and Lily were family.  During a religious ceremony, June tells Lily, "I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you first got here" and kisses the top of her head. 

Lily also changed a lot throughout the book.  She started off as a mousy girl who only worried about what others thought of her.  She wasn't well-liked at school, and always hoped to grow into someone beautiful.  She hadn't felt love for or by anyone since her mother had died.  By the end of the book, she was a hard-working, confident young lady who stood up to T.Ray and knew she had a family surrounding her.


If you would like to read more about The Secret Life of Bees, you can find more information and watch the movie trailer at its official website.  Once you are hooked and want to read the book, you can find a local copy at Worldcat.