July is over, and there’s very little trace

July is over and there’s very little trace

of it, though the Bastille fell on its face—

and August’s gotten orange, it will drop on

the edge of the world like a worm-eaten sun.

-Frank O’Hara

The other night, I was putting my daughter to bed and she asked me, “Why is it so dark?” She’d gotten used to the long summer evenings  we get up here past the 49th parallel.  But here it was, 8:30 and already mostly dark.  The leaves are falling, the ice cream truck’s tinny song has a little edge of desperation.  Somehow, the summer is almost over.

I had big plans for my blog this summer.  Just as a for example — I was going to blog every day for three weeks starting June 30.  (June 30 being the first day of camp in The Path of Names.)  The idea was that I would blog every day that The Path of Names has Dahlia at summer camp.  My blog entries would hilariously evoke the summer camp experience, interweaving with the events in The Path of Names.  I also had ideas about inviting my friends and readers to write about their summer camp memories, striking while the nostalgia was iron hot.

And here it is, August 19 and this is my first blog since (okay:  this is embarrassing) …  May 13.  More than three months.  In my defense, I’ve been busy.  Busy working on a new book. (Although not enough, never enough).  Busy chasing and being chased by my children.  Busy preparing for the fall semester of teaching.  Pretty much everything except blogging.

I did write two blog entries for other people.  One for the Nerdy Book Club (which you can find here) and one for the Scholastic ‘On Our Minds’ blog (which has yet to be posted.)

During my long silence, I’ve been reviewed by three of the big daily newspapers in Canada and most of the publishing industry’s review journals.  That has been super fun (and, okay, occasionally a little mystifying).  You can find a selected list on my website here.

Also very fun: I’ve received a bunch of pictures from my friends of their kids reading The Path of Names.  See below.  And, no, I can’t believe that my friends have kids that old, either.  Not when I’m barely turned thirty.  (Okay, thirty-five.  Thirty-seven max.)  Anyway, allegedly none of these were staged.   In that light, I’m especially a fan of the one taken in the super market.

P of N reader1 P of N reader2 P of N reader 3

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