Sometimes my interest level in something is inversely related to that something's popularity. Since I'm a dork, let me explain in diagram form...
It started in early fall 2001, on September 8, just before the numbers 9-11 would become burned into US history. But on that sunny Saturday, tragedy had not yet struck and the bookish excitement of the very first National Book Festival swallowed up the Library of Congress and stretched out onto the National Mall.
I recently came back from a road trip through New England (which I've chronicled on a blog series I've called Traveling with the Travelers). However, right before leaving on the vacation, I became a book fairy. Instead of waiting until I returned home to Northern Virginia to start my book fairy adventures, I decided to spread book fairy dust along our trek up the coast.
There has been much talk lately about how books, particularly speculative fiction such as Orwell's 1984, are cautionary tales for the slippery slope the world is proceeding down. I need a break from that doom and gloom. So, let's talk about fictional worlds where I might actually like to visit or even live.
I took a children's literature class in college. It was a bit of a departure from my typical Shakespeare and Russian literature type subject matter. I chose it as a relief from some of those heavier texts and deep down I probably thought it would be easy.
In high school, although I was loathe to admit it to friends, I loved English class. Outwardly I complained like everyone else about the 'boring' books the teachers put on the reading lists. Inwardly I loved them.
Amelia Earhart is one of those people in history you never forget. She was the first female aviator to try to circumnavigate the globe. She was a pioneer, role model, a legend. She's also at the center of a great mystery, one that is still making headlines today. It's the kind of story books are made of.