Dang, now I've got that song running through my head: Don't know much about history/Don't know much biology/But I do know that I love you, and I know that if you loved me, too, what a wonderful world this would be. I think I see American Idol in my future ... hee hee.

Anyway ... I received two copies of Don't Know Much About Anything Else by Kenneth C. Davis by mistake, so Davis' publicist has authorized me to give one away. Yay! The book is one in a series about all kinds of subjects, and features random facts about everything from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Flag Day to Ohio. I've only skimmed the information, but it looks fun and interesting.

So, what do you have to do to snag your very own copy? Just leave a comment on this post telling me about one subject you "Don't Know Much About." Comments must be in by midnight on September 30. Good luck!

I've often wondered if God forgot to give me the geneaology gene so prevalent in other Mormons. I mean, my mom and her twin sister haunt cemeteries, spend hours on the computer, and pore over musty records just to find the names and dates of our ancestors. For me, that's drudgery. I'm much more interested in the stories behind the names and numbers. Give me a journal or a biography or a historical novel - a story - and I'm in heaven. Laurence Yep, Newberry Honor-winning children's author, seems to agree with me. In the introduction to The Dragon's Child, he says, "Historical fiction is more than a record of dates and statistics: it should be a dialogue with the dead" (ix). This is what intrigues me - the conversations, the experiences, the stories of people long gone.
When Yep's niece presented him with transcripts of interviews taken with his father, he couldn't resist entering his own "dialogue with the dead." The papers recorded an interview conducted when Gim Lew Yep was a 10-year-old boy seeking entrance into the U.S. At that time, many Chinese men immigrated to America to earn money for their families in China. Each time the men travelled between the two countries, they had to pass a test before they were allowed back into the U.S. According to Yep, the immigrants had to answer detailed questions about their families, villages, and neighbors. In the Afterword of The Dragon's Child, he explains:
"To understand just how detailed these records were, try drawing a map of the block on which you live. List all the people in each house and what they do, and also list all their pets. Then record the births, deaths, and marriages of all your immediate family - including uncles and aunts, parents, brothers, sisters, and grandparents - for three generations and describe what the current living relatives do and where they live. Finally, write down how many windows and doors the houses have and in which direction they face. That will give you some idea how much a Chinese immigrant was expected to know" (113-114).
The purpose of these tests was, of course, to prevent Chinese people from settling permanently in America. However racist these exams were, the recovery of the transcripts granted Yep the opportunity to "speak" with his father about his experience coming to America. As a result of this conversation, he created The Dragon's Child, a fictional look at his father's fight to get to the place the Chinese referred to as The Golden Mountain. Yep wrote the book for children (ages 8-12), but it offers valuable insights for us all.

Long before Disney began marketing the heck out of Happily Ever After, little girls dreamed of becoming princesses. They envisioned themselves in flowing gowns and diamond tiaras with armies of servants at their beck and call. With a gleaming palace, trunks of jewels and a handsome prince, what's not to love? Well, after the reading and viewing I've been doing lately, let me tell you, I'll pass.

Once upon a time in the faraway land of Kildenree (in a book called The Goose Girl by beloved storyteller Shannon Hale) there lived a girl named Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee. As you can tell by her complicated name, Ani was no ordinary girl - she was a princess who dwelt in a beautiful palace. Now, just because a child's birth designates her royalty, it doesn't mean that's what she really wants. Ani was one princess who didn't care to sit around embroidering and learning manners. She longed to be out in the sunshine; in fact, she felt happiest when she was in the fields and forests communing with the animals of her kingdom. When Ani discovered she could learn the languages of her animal friends, she was delighted. Sharing her secret, however, led to trouble. The palace residents viewed her skill as odd, unnatural. Fearing her daughter's otherness would make her an unsuitable wife and ruler, her mother, the cold-hearted queen, forbade her from visiting any "friends" of the non-human variety.

The years passed, but Ani still didn't find princess-ly tasks to her liking. She grew especially morose when she learned of her impending marriage to a prince in the distant land of Bayern. Not only was her mother using her as a political pawn, but also she would be leaving her homeland to wed a complete stranger. With little choice in the matter, Ani set out on the 6-month journey that would take her to her new home. A princess could not travel alone, of course, so she was accompanied by a party of guards; her faithful horse Falada; Selia, her lady-in-waiting and only real friend; and a handkerchief dotted with her mother's blood. Ani believed the token from her mother would protect her from anything her servants could not. But, she was wrong. When she lost the handkerchief, Ani had to face the fact that magic could not save her from the coup her servants mounted. Terrified, she fled into the forest, where she hid from her enemies.

Lost in the woods, Ani was forced to rely on the help of strangers. Eventually, she made her way to Bayern, with the intention of stomping straightaway to the king. So intent was she on telling the king her friend's sordid plot (for it was evident that Selia planned to have Ani killed so that she could assume Ani's identity, marry the prince, and rule Bayern) that she failed to realize how ridiculous her story would sound. She had no witnesses, no one who could prove who she really was. So, instead, Ani petitioned the king for a job. Although she wanted to work in the royal stables (where her precious Falada was being held), the king assigned her to tend his geese. Of course, Ani was uniquely skilled for the position, and soon had the geese minding her like well-mannered children.

Ani had never lived among commoners, but her work led her to a community of friends who accepted her as one of their own. Believing she came from the Forest, like them, they confided in her, listened to her stories, and shared with her their woes about being outcasts in the city. Over time she almost forgot that she hadn't been reared in the Forest. Even when she met a palace guard who treated her like a lady despite her lowly appearance, Ani still knew she was nothing but a goose girl.

Now, although Ani carefully disguised herself by wearing a hat to cover her "yellow" hair and darkening her light eyebrows, it was inevitable that someone would discover the truth. Conrad, the goose boy, had grown green with jealousy over Ani's way with the animals. When he saw her shaking out her hair - of a color unknown in Bayern - he realized she was not who she said she was. With Bayern on the brink of war with Kildenree (another one of Selia's plots), Ani knew she had to confess the truth to Conrad and her new friends. Would they believe her? Would they help her convince the king to stop the marriage between Selia and the prince, avert a bloody war, and save Kildenree? Or would they think it was just another one of her entertaining stories?

Every story has a moral, and ours is no exception. In The Goose Girl, Ani learns that although magic exists in her world, her real power comes from within. As a princess, she embraced the values of her mother - "separation, elevation, delegation" (25) - as a humble commoner, she finds her passion, her people, and her true self. She discovers that those who stand for truth and justice will always triumph in the end (it is a fairy tale, after all).

There's only one problem with this magical tale - like all stories, it had to end. Fear not, tho', there are sequels. Will Ani find her happily ever after? We'll just have to see what the talented Miss Hale has in store for the goose girl who would be queen ...

Grade: A