I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but it seems I'm no longer absolutely cool in my daughter's eyes. I could understand if her particular issues with me were current fashion or "the" things to do while hanging out with friends, but books? BOOKS?!? Oh, the pain!
I don't say anything about the girly girl preteen drivel she loves to read (after all, I occasionally read girly girl grownup drivel) and I recommend a wide range of books (while keeping in mind she doesn't have the same penchant for sf/fantasy as I do.) She is a voracious reader, will happily read things her teacher recommends, and liked the books that 'Santa' gave her.
So why does she sneer every time I hand her a book? (well, she doesn't sneer *every* time, sometimes it's just a withering look or a "nah, I don't think so")
I'm not sure how I acquired this book, and it was one I hadn't read as a kid. I suggested that Maya and I read it together since we've been enjoying reading aloud at bedtime.
She read the blurb on the cover, handed it back to me and said "Nah."
I said, "Let's give it a shot."
"Oh, it's an award winner, isn't it...uh uh," she replied.
I then said, "Uh huh, we're giving this a shot."
Cue withering look.
The book quickly won her over. The short chapters are perfect for bedtime reading...we never had to stop in the middle of a chapter, and most nights read several chapters.
The author weaves together several plots. Each thread is connected, but he deftly gives us just the bits of information we need at any given point, and it all comes together at the end wonderfully. I loved when Maya would make a connection and exclaim, "Oh - those are Sam's onions!" or gasp, "Oh no! That's what really happened?!"
Final verdict? She loved it, and so did I.
Apparently I am capable of choosing good books.
Not that she'll remember that when I hand her the next book.