Read and Reap

Don’t be beastly, he’s just a very sweet old man…

galvin — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 06:18:56 +0000

Just then a man came up to us. He was a small man and he was pretty old, probably seventy of more. He raised his hat politely and said to my mother, “Excuse me, I do hope you will excuse me…” He had a fine white moustache and bushy white eyebrows and a wrinkly pink face. He was sheltering under an umbrella which he held high over his head.

“Yes?” my mother said, very cool and distant.

“I wonder if I could ask a small favour of you,” he said. “It is only a very small favour.”

I saw my mother looking at him suspiciously. She is a suspicious person, my mother. She is especially suspicious of two things – strange men and boiled eggs. When she cuts the top off a boiled egg, she pokes around inside it with her spoon as though expecting to find a mouse or something. With strange men, she has a golden rule which says, “The nicer the man seems to be, the more suspicious you must become.” This little old man was particularly nice. He was polite. He was well spoken. He was well dressed. He was a real gentleman. The reason I know he was a gentleman was because of his shoes. “You can always spot a gentleman by the shoes he wears,” was another of my mother’s favourite sayings. This man had beautiful brown shoes.

“The truth of the matter is,” the little man was saying, “I’ve got myself into a bit of a scrape. I need some help. Not much I assure you. It’s almost nothing, in fact, but I do need it. You see, madam, old people like me often become terribly forgetful…”

My mother’s chin was up and she was staring down at him along the full length of her nose. It was a fearsome thing, this frosty-nosed stare of my mother’s. Most people go to pieces completely when she gives it to them. I once saw my own headmistress begin to stammer and simper like an idiot when my mother gave her a really foul frosty-noser. But the little man on the pavement with the umbrella over his head didn’t bat an eyelid. He gave a gentle smile and said, “I beg you to believe, madam, that I am not in the habit of stopping ladies in the street and telling them my troubles.”

“I should hope not,” my mother said.

I felt quite embarrassed by my mother’s sharpness. I wanted to say to her, “Oh, Mummy, for heaven’s sake, he’s a very very old man, and he’s sweet and polite, and he’s in some sort of trouble, so don’t be so beastly to him.” But I didn’t say anything.

Extract from the book The Umbrella Man and Other Stories
By Roald Dahl
All Rights Reserved
New York: Viking, 1998

Call Number: Y English DAL

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Title: Shining on: 11 star authors’ illuminating stories
By Lois Lowry
Call Number: Y English SHI

How can you tell if a person is good or bad when you are talking to him/her for the first time?

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THE POWER OF FICTION–A NATIONWIDE COMPETITION FOR YOUNG PEOPLE (13-19)

looshien — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 01:31:43 +0000

TWO MORE WEEKS TO PARTICIPATE!

OPEN TO ALL NLB MEMBERS AGED 13-19

Click to view–> step-by-step-instructions

Call for Submissions

What you have to do:
1) Select a 300-500 word extract from an English fiction book with a thought-provoking point or an interesting idea.
2) In relation to the extract, come up with a thought-provoking question that will stimulate thought, conversation or discussion between you and your friends.
3) Recommend three books of a similar theme related to the question or the extract.
4) Put all these information together and design an A3-size poster to share with your friends.

Samples of these posters are available for download here:

iam-done-with-being-loved_low

when-the-going-gets-tough_low

Opening and Closing Date

The opening date for receiving entries is 1 April 2009.
The last day for accepting entries is 15 July 2009.

Prizes

Top Prize——$500 book vouchers
Second Prize—-$300 book vouchers
Third Prize——$200 book vouchers
20 Merit Prizes—$20 book vouchers

–> Most Number of Unique Submissions from a School / Education Institution will receive $200 book vouchers + Plaque

–> Winning posters—bearing the name of the participant(s) and the school (if applicable)—will be printed and displayed in all NLB Public Libraries.

–> Content from these posters will be adapted for publishing on NLB websites.

–> NLB may also print and distribute these posters to schools and organisations.

Judging

Judging will be conducted after the close of the competition from July to September 2009. Participants will be informed of the outcome by October 2009.

Winners will be determined by a panel of judges convened by NLB. The evaluation will be based on the following criteria:

Criteria & Percentage of Total Score
The extract: 40%
The thought-provoking question: 20%
The design of the poster: 20%
The overall appeal and potential of the poster to stimulate thought and conversation: 20%

Terms and Conditions

1) The poster should have these key elements
a. Extract
i. Title
ii. Author
iii. Publisher
iv. Call Number for books available at NLB (if applicable)
b. Thought-provoking Question
c. Recommended Reads
i. Title
ii. Author
iii. Call Number for books available at NLB (if applicable)
d. Design and Layout
e. Name of Participant(s) and School / Educational Institution (if applicable)

2) This competition is only for extracts from fiction books published in English and all participants are to comply with the Singapore Copyrights Act provisions and not breach any laws and regulations pertaining to the intellectual property rights of the authors; publishers and original creators of the works; photos; images; drawings; etc.

3) Submissions should be in the form of a high-resolution (minimum 300 dpi) PDF/Image file of the A3-size poster. Free software for converting documents into PDF format are available on the Internet, e.g. CutePDF

4) Entries can be submitted by an individual or group. There is no limit to the number of members in a group. There is also no limit to the number of entries a person or group can submit.

5) Submit the entry with the PDF/Image file attachment by email—to readandreap@nlb.gov.sg -ideally the total file size of one email should not exceed 5MB. Indicate clearly in the subject of the email if more than one email is being sent.

6) Be sure to attach and include the following information in the email:

a. A scanned copy of the pages from the book where the extract was found, as a picture or PDF file; either in colour or in black and white.

b. Full Details of each participant(s), including
i. FULL NAME
ii. NRIC / FIN
iii. LIBRARY MEMBERSHIP NO. (indicate if it is the same as the NRIC no.)
iv. MAILING ADDRESS
v. EMAIL ADDRESS
vi. CONTACT NO. (include mobile phone number if available)
vii. Name of School / Educational Institution (if applicable)

7) The judges’ decision is final. No appeal will be entertained.

8) Vouchers are in Singapore Dollars.

9) The National Library Board, Singapore reserves the right to edit the submission for publishing and to use the submission (including any photograph received) on any media or publicity channels, without further consent from any party.

10) The National Library Board, Singapore reserves the right to modify the terms and conditions of this competition from time to time without prior notice.

I’m very lonely here

galvin — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 04:00:08 +0000

The three stared up at the translucent lady as she smiled and drifted slowly nearer. Long hair swirled about her bare shoulders and breast – and but for the white pallor and translucence of her form, she might have been still a living woman. Below her breasts, however, bare ribs curved from a spine that dwindled away into wisps of glowing radiance.

“Well met, friends of the son of my blood. Be welcome here, in what is left of my home.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and her eyes were kind. She looked around at the crumbling ruins and shook her head. “It was once so grand-and now, so little is left.”

Then she turned and smiled at Mirt. “For once, you’ve missed the best accommodation.” She pointed. “There’s a door, the other side of that pile of stone. Behind it, several rooms are still intact-and safe from falling in on you, I believe.”

Mirt bowed. “My thanks, Lady.” He turned to the others. “Lady Duskreene ruled in this castle before there was a realm of Cormyr, very long ago. She’s now a watchghost—one of the few ghosts who do not always mean swift death to the living.”

“Here,” Duskreene added, “you sleep under my protection. Relax, and feel safe.” She glanced at Mirt, and mischief danced in her eyes. “And please bear with my kin —when he gets no sleep he’s apt to be as grouchy as a bear.”

“‘Gets no sleep,’ Lady?” Narm’s eyes were wide with wonder as he looked at her. He’d never seen a ghost before-and this gentle, dignified, half-beautiful and half skeletal woman was nothing like the spectral monsters whispered of in ghost stories.

The lady who had laughed and loved a thousand years before he was born looked into his eyes sadly. “I’m very lonely here—and on the too-rare occasions when Mirt comes to call, he tells me what has befallen in the lands around since last we talked. I take a morbid interest, I’m afraid, in what the remote descendants of those I knew as friends – and rivals and foes are doing, and what contemporaries of mine still walk the world today.”

Extract from the book Crown of fire
By Ed Greenwood
All Rights Reserved.
Cambridge: TSR, 1994.
Call number : Y English GRE

Extract contributed by Mike Mok

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Will you choose to live a thousand years? Why?

Why should you get all that? Why you and not other people?

galvin — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 04:20:21 +0000

‘But Looper’s stealing,’ said Lina. ‘And Lizzie – he isn’t just stealing things for you. He has a store! He steals things and sells them for huge prices!’

‘He does not,’ said Lizzie, but she looked worried.

‘He does. I know because I bought something from him just a few weeks ago. He has a whole box of coloured pencils.’

Lizzie scowled. ‘He never gave me any coloured pencils.’

‘He shouldn’t be giving you anything – or selling things. Don’t you think everyone should know about the food he found?’

‘No!’ Lizzie cried. ‘Listen. If there’s only one can of peaces left, only one person gets to have it, right? So why should everyone know? They’d just end up fighting over it. What good would that be?’ Lizzie reached out and put a hand on Lina’s knee. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask Looper to find some good stuff for you, too. I know he will, if I ask him.’

Before she had time to think, Lina heard herself saying, ‘What kind of good stuff?’

Lizzie’s eyes gleamed. ‘There’s two packages of coloured paper, he told me. And some cough medicine. And there’s three pairs of girl’s shoes.’

It was treasure. Coloured paper! And cough medicine to cure sickness, and shoes… she hadn’t had new ones for almost two years. Lina’s heart raced. What Lizzie said was true: if everyone knew there were still a few wonderful things in the storerooms, people would fight each other trying to get them. But what if no one knew? What difference would it make if she had the coloured paper, or the shoes? She suddenly wanted those things so badly she felt weak. A picture arose in her mind’s eye – the shelves and Mrs Murdo’s house stocked with good things, and the three of them happier and safer than other people.

Lizzie leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘Looper found a can of pineapple. I was going to split it with him but I’ll give you a bite if you promise not to tell.’

Pineapple! That delectable long-lost thing that her grandmother had told her about. Was there anything wrong with having a bite of it, just to see what it was like?

‘I’ve already tasted peaces, apple sauce and a thing called fruit cocktail,’ said Lizzie. ‘And prunes and creamed corn and cranberry sauce and asparagus…’

‘All that?’ Lina was astonished. ‘Then there’s a lot of special things like that still?’

‘No,’ said Lizzie. ‘Not a lot at all. In fact, we’ve finished all those.’

‘You and Looper?’

Lizzie nodded, smiling smugly. ‘Looper says it’s all going to be gone soon anyway, why not live as well as we can right now?’

‘But Lizzie, why should you get all that? Why you and not other people?’

Extract from the book The City of Ember
By Jeanne DuPrau
All Rights Reserved
London: Doubleday, 2004
Call Number: J English DUP

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Do you think it is acceptable to steal when there is not enough for everyone?

Download the poster in JPG (right-click and choose ‘Save Target As’)

You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.

galvin — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 04:00:59 +0000

“I heard a nice little story the other day,” Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.

“Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He’s enjoying the wind and the fresh air–until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.

“My God, this is terrible,” the wave says. ‘Look what’s going to happen to me!’

“Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, ‘Why do you look so sad?’

“The first wave says, ‘You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?’

“The second wave says, ‘No, you don’t understand. You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.’”

I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.

“Part of the ocean,” he says, “part of the ocean.” I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

Extract from the book Tuesdays with Morrie
By Mitch Albom
All rights reserved.
New York : Doubleday, c1997.
Call number: English 378.12092 ALB

Extract contributed by Chan Chor Bong

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Title: The Kite Runner
By Khaled Hosseini
Call number: HOS

Do you feel that you’re part of something bigger than yourself (e.g. your country, profession, school, company, or the human race)? How so?

Why are you making this so hard?

galvin — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 04:00:23 +0000

“Hi Emily!” Millie’s voice was wobbly but her body was stiff. She handed me a big bag of Jelly Bellies. I love Jelly Bellies, especially the bubble gum and licorice flavors.

“No thank you.” I pushed the bag away. “I’m on a diet.”

Millie’s jaw dropped. “But you’re not fat! Anyway, jelly beans are fat-free.”

“I am on a diet,” I repeated firmly as I pulled out a chair. It made an embarrassing sound as it scraped against the floor. Normally one of us would have cracked a joke about this. Instead, I sat down and crossed my arms. Millicent remained standing. She was wearing two friendship necklaces, hers and mine, and she clutched both as she spoke.

“Well, I know that my being a genius can be off-putting,” she began. “But I am certain our friendship is strong enough to withstand the effects of my high intelligence.”

“Man,” I said, shaking my head, “for someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you sure are dumb.”

“Pardon me?”

“Millicent,” I struggled to explain, “this is not about your brain. I’m mad at you because we were supposed to be best friends! But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Instead, you just assumed I wouldn’t be able to handle it. There was this huge part of your life that you hid from me!”

“I can’t believe you just called me dumb! Et tu, Brute.”

“But Millie, you do act really dumb sometimes, like you’re clueless.” By now we were both standing.

“So…?” Millie was gripping the beads so hard, I was afraid the necklace would break.

“So nothing. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Really?”

“I don’t care if you’re smart or dumb, as long as you’re a true friend.”

Millicent was silent for the longest time. Finally she said, ”Emily, I’m sorry if I misrepresented myself in any manner. For you see, I had sorely misjudged the dynamics of our friendship…”

Urgggg, why was she making this so hard?

“Millie, you just didn’t misjudge our relationship, you misjudged me!” I shouted. “Can’t you just shut up and say you’re sorry you lied without making up a bunch of hooey?”

Instantly I was sorry. Millie looked the way I felt – hurt.

Finally after a million years, she mumbled, “I am sorry I lied to you, Emily. I hope you can forgive me.”

Could I forgive her? I wondered. After her lies and betrayal? Now it was up to me. I could go on being angry at Millicent and feeling horrible. Or I could be her friend again. My body suddenly got light and I was dizzy, but this time it wasn’t from not eating.

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Can true friendship survive even if one friend lies to another?

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I just didn’t understand… Not why, not how, not me…

galvin — Fri, 29 May 2009 04:00:43 +0000

No matter how much I slept I was always tired. Proper, bone tired. It wasn’t until Tegan asked me to go to the doctor that I realised. My four-year-old actually voiced what I couldn’t – wouldn’t – face, the simple fact that I wasn’t myself any more. She’d gotten tired of me being too exhausted to play with her. Of me having nosebleeds. Of me being breathless after even the smallest amount of exertion. ‘Mummy, if you go to the doctor she can make you better,’ she said one day out of the blue. Just said it, and I did it.

I sat in the doctor’s, told her what was wrong and she did a blood test. Then called me in for more tests. More tests with names and words I’d heard on the medical shows on telly, then words that never had a happy ending on TV were being bandied around. But they couldn’t truly have anything to do with me. Not really. They were eliminating possibilities.

Then, I got the call. The call saying I had to go see my doctor straight away. Even then… And even when she told me… When she said she was sorry and then started talking about treatments and prognosis, I didn’t believe it. No, that’s not right. I did believe it. I just didn’t understand. Not why. Not how. Not me…

About a week later, on my way to work I got to the train station early, mega early, as usual. You see, I’d built lots of compensators – things that made normal activities easier – into my life to accommodate the disease invading my body: I left for the station early so I wouldn’t ever have to run for the train; I brought food to work so I wouldn’t have to walk to the sandwich shop at lunchtime; I cut the childminder’s hours so I wouldn’t be tempted to go for a drink after work.

Anyway, on this particular day I sat at the station and a woman came and stood beside me. She got her mobile out of her bag and made a call. When the person on the other end picked up she said, ‘Hello, it’s Felicity Halliday’s mother here. I’m calling because she’s not very well and she won’t be coming to school today.’ I fell apart. Just broke down in tears. It hit me then, right then, that I might never get the chance to make a call like that. I would not get to do a simple mum thing like call my daughter’s school. There were a million things I would never get to do again and that was one of them.

Everyone was terribly British about it all and ignored me as I cried and sobbed and wailed. Yes, wailed. I made a hideous noise as I broke into a million, trillion pieces.

Then this man, this angel, came to me, sat down, put his arm around me and held me while I cried. The train came, the train left. As did the next one and the next one. But this man stayed with me. Stayed with me as I cried and cried. I totally soaked and snotted up the shoulder of his nice suit jacket but he didn’t seem to mind, he waited and held me until I stopped wailing. Then he gently asked me what was wrong.

Through my sobs, all I could say was, ‘I’ve got to tell my little girl I’m going to die.’

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If you saw a stranger all alone in a public place, would you ignore him/her or would you go up and ask what’s wrong?

Winners of Read and Reap Mailing List promotion

galvin — Mon, 25 May 2009 04:00:09 +0000

Congratulations! The following lucky readers have subscribed to the Read and Reap mailing list and earned themselves a $100 book voucher each:

1. Chan Wing Hon Benjamin
2. Melody Fong
3. Angela Sng
4. Meenatchi Ramasamy
5. Jesstern Rays

Want short and sweet extracts from great reads sent to your mailbox weekly? Then subscribe to our mailing list! Read this post to find out how. Each extract comes with a thought-provoking question to spark your imagination and lead you thinking.

If he couldn’t pass fairly, he didn’t want to pass

galvin — Fri, 22 May 2009 04:00:42 +0000

Reynie had a sudden insight: Rhonda was calling attention to herself on purpose. It was a trick. No one would suspect her of cheating, because who in her right mind would make such a spectacle of herself if she intended to cheat? The green hair (it must be a wig), the poofy dress, the whispering – they were all meant to distract. Most people assume that if a child intended to cheat, then surely she would call as little attention to herself as possible, would be as quiet as a mouse and as plain as wallpaper. Reynie had to hand it to Rhonda: She might not be smart enough to pass the test, but she was clever enough to get away with cheating on it. He felt a pang of jealousy. Now Rhonda would move on to experience those special opportunities, while Reynie would move his way back to the orphanage, defeated.

As Rhonda passed by him on the way to her desk, she winked and let fall a tiny slip of paper. It drifted down like a feather and settled lightly upon Reynie’s desk. The test answers. Reynie peeked over at the pencil woman, but she hadn’t noticed – she was busy grading Rhonda’s test now, making check mark after check mark and nodding her head. So the answers were indeed the right ones. And here they sat on his desk.

If he’d felt tempted before, when he’d had no idea how hard the test would be, that temptation was nothing compared to now. No matter that he’d resisted, no matter that he’d chosen this seat precisely to avoid this situation, here he was, staring at a slip of paper that contained the key to his hopes. All he had to do was turn it over and look at the answers. The other children were too busy sniffling and biting their fingernails to notice, and if he hurried, he might even copy the answers down before the pencil woman looked up again. She had finished grading Rhonda’s paper and was concentrating on the nearly empty jar of pickles, trying to fish out the last one. Reynie stared a long moment at the paper, sorely tempted.

Then, he reached out and flicked it from his desk and onto the floor.

What good would those opportunities do him if he wasn’t qualified to be given them? And where was the pleasure in cheating? If he couldn’t pass fairly, he didn’t want to pass. He thought this – and mostly believed it – and felt his spirits boosted by the decision. But even so, a few seconds passed before he could tear his eyes from the paper on the floor. All right, he told himself, returning to the test. Get a move on, Reynie, and don’t look back. There’s no time to waste.

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Would you cheat if you knew you could get away with it?

Download the poster in JPG (right-click and choose ‘Save Target As’)

Dying would be the easy way out

galvin — Fri, 15 May 2009 04:00:40 +0000

The current was moving faster now, the corridor widening. The speed made it easier for the mariner to maneuver with his glaive. Rig guessed they’d covered several miles already when the sound of the rushing water became even louder, the channel narrowed, and the pounding drowned out the chattering of Rikali and the sloshing noise of Dhamon swimming to catch up.

There was only a few inches of air, and the mariner found himself clinging to the ceiling, taking a few deep gulps, and then submerging to swim some more. He hoped Dhamon and the half-elf were close behind and that they hadn’t given up and tried to backtrack. Still, he told himself, he wasn’t going to lose a precious minute worrying about his companions. Time to put his own skin first and to let the stinking thieves save themselves. Concentrate on getting back to Fiona.

“Awww. . . .” he breathed, as he held on to an outcropping and let his arm drift out in a sweeping pattern, his nose pressed against the ceiling. His fingers brushed against cloth. “Who am I trying to fool? Dhamon? You all right? Dhamon!”

There was a muffled reply, and they were off again, another hour passing, the mariner guessed, as they followed the stream in the pitch darkness, gulping in air when a pocket presented itself. The water was warming, evidence of something underground, perhaps volcanic heat.

Dhamon was thinking of the dragons: the green who slew his men in the Qualinesti Forest; Skie, who could have killed him and Rig and everyone else at the Window to the Stars; the Black he’d encountered in the swamp and who would have slain him save for the scale on his leg— which at the time had branded him as a servant of the red overlord.

Death didn’t frighten him anymore. Everyone died. It was just a matter of when. Drowning would not be so painful. Then his jaw tightened and he scolded himself. Dying would be the easy way out.

Extract contributed by Lena Mok

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Have you ever thought of taking the easy way out?