Books for children and adults
If you are a teacher and would like a virtual reading with activities related to my books for children, contact me.
Boa Constrictors Tie the Knot | The Industrious Sloth | The Scab Faerie
Is This Right?
Our daughter Conway, at four years old, was smart, active, funny, and sneaky. They kept us just as busy as every other parent chasing their child around the house. They delighted in doing things wrong, on purpose, with a big silly grin. I put all those memories together in my latest book after Conway was already at the university. Better late than never.
The daughter of a colleague visited my office and and did a little reading. She is skeptical that Conway really did all those things. I can assure you, Conway did.
The book can be ordered from Itasca Books (itascabooks.com) or write to me directly.
Harbinger
A doctor at the university hospital in Minneapolis told me once that what I was experiencing might go away completely, or it might be a harbinger of far worse to come. That describes the unpredictability of life pretty well, I think.
I modeled Harbinger, a collection of very short stories, after two authors that really resonated with me. One was Edgar Lee Masters, who published Spoon River Anthology in 1915. The poems are actually epitaphs in a fictional cemetery. As you read you make more and more connections between the lives of the deceased.The other author was Dutch, and his very short stories were published about 100 years later. A. L. Snijders wrote about everyday life, just about every day of his life! Snapshots of what it is to be human, to doubt, to dream, to regret, to anticipate.
I hope I’ve done justice to these two authors as I brought their concepts together and filled the pages with my own memories, the daily goings-on in my adopted Swiss town, and the battle of getting through each day with the little bit of dignity we have.
Home
Around Lake Harriet, in my hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota, there used to be (and may be still) little doors built in the spaces between the roots of the old trees along the paths. They fascinated me. In my own neighborhood, a friend’s dad, Allen, built a door for one particularly large gap, hung out a tiny welcome sign, and installed a mail box for notes. What better way could there be to spend your time and imagination?
So I embarked on my first novel, the story of a retired man who found purpose again in the doors he installed in the roots of the trees in the woods behind his secluded house, and the gnomes who moved in, who became his friends, his confidants, his stability and purpose. Only his daughter doesn’t see it that way, nor, perhaps, does anybody else …