Reading: Christmas Eve

OKAY!  In and around other things - reading for work, reading with kids, reading about knitting, reading my chainsaw manual - I finally finished reading the Witcher series, putting a nice bow on my 2020 reading.  At least, I thought that's what I did.  I read the first Witcher book (which lines up with Season One on Netflix), and then the boxed set of three (Blood of Elves, The Time of Contempt, Baptism of Fire).  And I have to say, I was totally disappointed with how it finished!  You know, at the end of a book? When there’s another book to read?  And there's a teaser chapter (which there totally was for the second and third Witcher books I read)?  Well, the fourth book handed me a teaser chapter for a totally different series.  And I'm like, hey!  This is how it ends?  What happened to Ciri?  Did Geralt just give up looking for her?  What about this war they’re in the middle of?  What the....

After stomping around about this for a few days, I spotted my problem - there are seven Witcher titles, not four.  I don't know why the publisher was teasing me with some new series; but in any case, I now know that I've yet to read the Tower of Swallows, Lady of the Lake, and Season of Storms.  Some light reading for 2021, I guess.  Actually, I've been down this road before with Ender’s Game which I thought was a series of six books but turned into twelve and became the longest book series I'd read since my Nancy Drew days.

What didn't disappoint me was my family's Christmas Eve reading tradition, a thing my family has been doing for more than 20 years.  Ever since my kids were little, we've put out cookies and milk, hung up our stockings, and then sat to listen to a family member reading Clement C. Moore’s T'was the Night Before Christmas.  This year, one of my sons had to join us by zoom call - bittersweet - but we were still together and whole, and I'm grateful for that.

And with that, I'm wrapping up my year of writing about reading.  Thanks for reading along.

Cheryl Brown (@CherylAnneBrown) is co-creator of the Storytent and Bookwagon programs, QLNB's Community Literacy Coordinator, and long-time advocate for and facilitator of a variety of family literacy initiatives.  In these posts, she has been documenting and sharing snap-shots of some of her daily reading.  

Reading: Maps

Recently, I got to participate in a 'Great Canadian Hike Challenge.'  I read the Fundy Footpath map to plan my route (choosing this particular section because I hadn't yet seen the famous flower pot).  While I was walking (and checking my map), I thought about the many other kinds of map reading I do.  I frequently use Google Maps with my phone for work travel - finding highway exit numbers, street addresses, gas stations - but my glove box is an equally rich resource.  I always consult some kind of map before going on any hiking trail for the first time.  The Rockwood Park Map I carried in my back pocket, initially so I wouldn’t get lost, became a useful tool for crossing off 'completed trails' and planning new hikes.

There are lots of other kinds of reading to do on trails such as signage indicating trail names, lengths and accessible hours, or signs detailing points of historical or pictorial interest, signs identifying common or unique flora & fauna, and signs telling us about things like elevation and other geological or oceanographic descriptors.  Still, paper maps are special things.  We 'own' our paper maps.  We carry them with us, make marks on them, hold them up against the landscape as we seek to place ourselves in a larger context of community and nature.

In my home office I have a drawer full of typical highway or tourist maps of places I've been.  (At a glance, I can see maps of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, the Maritimes, Maine, the Southeastern U.S., the White Mountains & New Hampshire.)  I always grab a street map of anywhere I'm visiting, and I've saved more than a few: Washington DC (showing Smithsonian locations); Montreal, Vancouver, Portland, NY City.  I also keep an eye out for specialty maps like my small hand-drawn-styled map 'A Traveller’s Map of the St. John River Ferry System.' I have maps of zoos and other tourist attractions (King’s Landing, Minister’s Island), a wonderful map of Canada’s federal parks, and even an N.B. map of farmer’s markets!  I remember getting National Geographic in the mail (or looking through my grandfather’s collection of back issues) and always being excited to see what map was included (among my favourites:  Antarctica, 1957; Whales of the World, 1976; The Historic Mediterranean, 1982; Sky Survey - Charting the Heavens, 1983; The Alps, 1985; Great Lakes, 1987.  I don't subscribe to N.G. anymore, but my interest in maps hasn't flagged.

Meanwhile, there are many types of maps I don't have on hand: topographical; socio-thematic (e.g., population density or voting patterns), navigation charts.  And let’s not forget the fictional maps we find in the Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, or the Eragon series.

Like any other type of functional reading, map reading is a skillset that strengthens and broadens with use, contributing to the growth of our overall literacy skills.  Beyond their practicality, however, maps are special things that invite us into places, and even periods, we might not otherwise go; making map reading at once an intensely personal and social activity.   

For another take, and with an eye to January 27th, check out A. Alexandra's 2015 'Explore a Map on Family Literacy Day.'

Cheryl Brown (@CherylAnneBrown) is co-creator of the Storytent and Bookwagon programs, QLNB's Community Literacy Coordinator, and long-time advocate for and facilitator of a variety of family literacy initiatives.  In these posts, she has been documenting and sharing snap-shots of some of her daily reading.