The magic of a mother-daughter book group

Right before Lauren started sixth grade, our neighborhood librarian, Sharon, pulled me aside and invited us to join a mother-daughter book group she was putting together for sixth grade girls and their moms. It turned out to be one of the best things we did together in those middle school years. When Maddy hit those same years, we joined in another Sharon-led, mother-daughter book group. Those hours each month, leaning in around round tables in the after-hours library, were honest and illuminating times for me and my girls. 

It was such a lovely part of our mother-daughter relationship during those sometimes bumpy pre-teen and early teen years that I wanted to chat with Sharon again and see if I could share her with you. Enjoy this conversation with Sharon McCarrell, who graciously agreed to be interviewed about the magic of mother-daughter book groups and her insights on starting and running them. 

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What brought you to young adult (YA) fiction?

I am not sure why I love YA books as much as I do. I wasn’t a very happy adolescent, maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe I’m living it over and over again and trying to improve it after the fact, or trying at last to exorcise it. As a teenager I wasn’t bookish, I wasn’t particularly motivated academically, and although I always loved to read, my adolescence was much more marked by my passion for rock and roll music than by books.  I pretty much hated adolescence, like a lot of people, and didn’t want to go back to it and think about it after I was finally free of it.  And when I started buying YA books for the library, I wasn’t that engaged in the library’s YA collection. But I started reading some of the books, and something happened. I tapped into the “me” who was that adolescent, and I remembered how it felt.  I started seeing how even as a middle-aged woman, some of the books reached me in a place I had put away and preferred not to remember. Maybe I’m trying to heal that girl. Besides, some of the books are just fun to read! I think I might have been hoping a book would touch an adolescent girl in some way that might make the whole thing just a little bit easier to get through.

How did you come to have the idea to start book groups? How long have you been doing them?

About 10 or 15 years ago I decided to really beef up the [YA] collection, in the “if you build it they will come” approach. And in an effort to try to engage more kids in reading them, the mother/daughter book group idea seemed like it would be fun. The book group has been going for about 12 years. [Sharon starts a new one every year with 6th graders and then keeps each group going until around 8th grade.]

One of the things I love about the books is that they are often stories that revolve around the same things middle school or adolescence revolves around: What does it mean to belong? What does it mean to be different?  Can you be your true self? In fact, what does it meant to be yourself? What does it mean to go along?  To refuse to go along? What does it mean to stand up for something? To make decisions for yourself?  To speak up? To keep quiet? How can you be a friend? How can you rely on yourself? The stories often speak to these questions, even if they are wrapped up in a story about someone in another time, in another place, long ago or in a place that never existed, or a place and a time in the future.

Anyway, for whatever reason, the books started speaking to me.  And I started to want to share them! I hoped that being in a “neutral” location like the library, rather than in someone’s house, would make it a bit less casual and maybe a bit more focused, and that having one “facilitator” might work better. It was a sheer stroke of luck. It’s been just amazing….unforgettable, really.

Why middle school girls? 

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When people ask me why I like middle school kids so much, I really want to laugh. The middle school kids I interact with are NOT a cross section of middle school!  In the first place, the girls I recruit for my groups read so much that they don’t mind reading an extra book every month that they haven’t even chosen. They don’t mind coming to the library (not always every kid’s idea of the coolest place to hang around) in the evening, when they could be doing something else. They don’t mind hanging around there with their moms. They don’t mind talking about books in a group setting that is not school and is also not made up of people they might have chosen. There’s a little window of time when this moment occurs most happily. 6th and 7th grade seems perfect. Soon they will have too much homework. Soon there may be conflict with mom. These are extraordinary parameters…but then again, these are extraordinary girls.  And they also have moms who are not so busy that they are willing to read the books too, in the time frame, and come prepared to talk about a book they might not have chosen.  All I can say is…it’s magic.

Tell us some more about that magic. What’s special about spending that time together, discussing books and ideas?

Everything! The opportunity to hear the comparison of the point of view of a middle school girl in her understanding of the story with her mom’s is frequently amazing.  You know how you can have the best conversations with your daughter in the car, when you are both looking forward, and not at each other? This is like that sometimes. Often the girls will say something that they think about what happened in the book and I see the mom’s face go “wow.”  Sometimes the mom will say “when I was 13….” and I see the same look on the daughter’s face.

Yes! In my experience with two daughters participating at different times, the discussions become part book group, part therapy session! How do you lead discussions that help mothers and daughters navigate these transition years?

I often have conversations with the moms about the beauty of being able to talk about values or ideas in this non-direct way, when it’s a discussion about a character in a book, and what she might do or think, or the decisions she might make. No heavy “what would you do if” conversations, just “what do you think of what happened?” Some of the books have some hot button issues around the edges of the story that create an opportunity for a talk that is hard to figure out how to begin.

What do you think the girls and the mothers take away from these discussions?

"My hope is less that they enjoy talking about the books and more that they are laying down some empathy or human understanding--from the experience of talking with others about a person in a story or a connection that they might feel with or about a character--that they can bring to bear later on, in a real situation."

I don’t think I really have any understanding about what is the value of this whole thing for the girls, because they have a lot of this kind of thing at school. But I really understand the value of it for the moms, and for myself. It’s a little window into their world. The girls will sometimes bring up something that has happened at school or with a friend, and I can see them make connections from the books to real life. And in a town like this [a suburb of Boston], they have talked about books so much that they are pros at it.  But my hope is less that they enjoy talking about the books and more that they are laying down some empathy or human understanding--from the experience of talking with others about a person in a story or a connection that they might feel with or about a character--that they can bring to bear later on, in a real situation. Mostly when I think about middle school, I just think, anything has value that gets you from this point to a place later, where you can look back on going through it and say, “whew.”  Sometimes I think the books we read in the groups might be more valuable later, looking back, than they are when they are read by someone who is 12 or 13.

I hope to help create a place where they feel safe with what they think and what they feel, and I love watching it happen. I wish I could meet with these girls when they are older, and show them their younger selves, and see how it looks different at 16 or 18 than it did at 12.

Have the discussions changed over the years?

I’ve seen a change over the last few years, in some of the perspectives of the girls in these groups, in the same town. The girls seem to be more protected, more sheltered, more afraid of the world, and yet more unaware, than ten years ago. I sometimes hear someone in a group meeting say, “Oh, this couldn’t happen here.” And while of course they are right about plenty of the stories, it’s not right that in their sheltered worlds they have no friends dealing with divorce, with alcoholism, with domestic violence, with bullying. 

But I love their fierceness and their certainty. And I love that the moms get to hear from this girl who hasn’t yet gone into the minefield of teenhood. And I love it that they are putting these stories away for later.

You do this at night, holding the groups after hours after working a full day at the library. What keeps you coming back and starting another one, year after year?

I’ve been blessed to know these girls at this moment of their lives. They leave the [neighborhood] library soon after middle school, and they mostly use the high school library and the bigger main library, and I often don’t see them again. But I remember this particular time of their lives, and it’s such an honor for me to see them and know them, and their moms, for this brief period of time. I am not so sure what they get out of it, but it’s amazing for me, and when I’m not doing it anymore I think I will miss this more than almost anything else about working in the same library for so many years.

Thank you, Sharon, for being one of our favorite mentors and fearless guides in navigating the terrain of those years. We miss you. 


In case you're interested (or maybe considering starting a group of your own!), here are just a few of the books we read under Sharon's guidance:

Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson
Hope Was Here by Joan Bauer
​A Mango Shaped Space
by Wendy Mass
Shiva's Fire by Suzanne Fisher Staples
Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin
Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Reilly Giff
Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech
Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams
The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale
Firehorse by Diane Lee Wilson
Red Scarf Girl by Ji-li Jiang
Tangerine by Edward Bloor
Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick
Uglies by Scott Westerfield
​​Silent to the Bone by EL Konigsburg
​​Does My Head Look Big in This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah
A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

Baby steps

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Right now I'm working on macaron-making. Here's the skinny: the macarons pictured above were made using Tartelette's recipe.​ This was my second batch, and while they look pretty darn decent in the picture, they were slightly undercooked! I know. So finicky. My first attempt was an unmitigated disaster. And the third? Those went straight from pan to garbage. Ugh!  As soon as I go buy myself another kinda expensive, tiny bag of almond flour -- I'm trying these -- because I like to punish myself. 

In between macaron experimenting I started attending a boot camp in the evenings and on Saturdays. I've been three times so far. As I type this my shoulders are tight, almost crampy. I also need to cough but am trying my best NOT to cough because my stomach muscles simply don't have the energy. Also, they burn and hurt when I cough. When I'm actually at boot camp? Let's just say ​the image vacillates between sad and ugly. Guys! I have the upper body strength of a newborn. Let's not even talk about my core. It's on fire, remember?

And thirdly . . . last Friday, I had a meeting with my dissertation chair over one of my chapters. It went okay. We had a good discussion: she explained the weaknesses in the chapter, I argued my own position. She was nice, even (somewhat) complimentary at times. But she in no way patted me on the back, handed me a cigar, and told me that what I had written was brilliant, erudite, and ready for publication. No. Not any of that. There is more work to do. Argh.

When I was young, I pictured my 40-something self as capable, assured, making things happen. And yet, the real 40-year-old me is still taking baby steps -- fumbling in the kitchen, struggling on the playing field, pecking away at my computer keyboard. ​It's hard work, this life of frothy egg whites and unruly thighs and theoretical feminist concerns. I do wish for mastery, make no mistake. In some ways I need just a modicum of success, a whisper that "I'm okay," or heck, I'd take small french cookies that are perfectly baked. But right now . . . I'm feeling my back up against the wall, and it's not an entirely bad feeling. My best work generally comes from defiance. Tell me I can't do something and I WILL SHOW YOU. I'm feeling the need to gird up my loins, fresh courage take -- to make lists, to read, to run up a hill without having palpitations. 

The frothy egg whites? No promises there.​

A few good gems

Off to the weekend!  But first, here are a few things caught my eye this week:

Interesting new findings about how much older siblings influence the youngers (in some cases, more influence even than parents).  

Great post on the ins and outs of caring for teen skin.​

Redefining success for a college-bound child.

These look like an easy weekend craft: such lovely little felt boxes to make for party favors, gift boxes, or dresser organizers.

My favorite book-inspired t-shirts: great for birthdays or for a graduation present paired with a lovely, hardbound copy of the same book. ​Maddy has the Pride & Prejudice one. I think I would go for the Light in August one next. Or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?

​Happy weekending! Around here we are testing our marriage by assembling some Ikea furniture, attending a farewell party (sigh! lots of people moving from here this season), and several of us are attempting a sugar interventions. What's on your docket? 

Hallelujah anyway

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Yesterday afternoon, while checking Facebook, I saw that Annie had shared Anne Lamott's latest post. It was just what I needed to hear.​ For me her admonition is about writing, but I think her philosophy is equally applicable to any interest or passion. It's about making things happen. About not wasting our time here on the planet. About becoming the person we really want to be. And the really interesting part? She insists that these parts of us shouldn't be reserved for when our kids are grown or we retire -- that magical space where we think time resides.

Way to go Anne:
I had a great idea for a new book, although come to think of it, maybe it is just a Facebook post. But it would be called Pre First Draft, and address the way we suit up and show up to be writers, artists, and general tribal-two-stomp creative types.

I think it would begin with an admonition: if you used to love writing, painting, dancing, singing, whatever, but you stopped doing it when you had kids or began a strenuous career, then you have to ask yourself if you are okay about not doing it anymore. 

If you always dreamed of writing a novel or a memoir, and you used to love to write, and were pretty good at it, will it break your heart if it turns out you never got around to it? If you wake up one day at eighty, will you feel nonchalant that something always took precedence over a daily commitment to discovering your creative spirit?

If not--if this very thought fills you with regret--then what are you waiting for?

Back in the days when I had writing students, they used to spend half their time explaining to me why it was too hard to get around to writing every day, but how once this or that happens--they retired, or their last kid moved out--they could get to work.

I use to say very nicely, "That's very nice; but it's a total crock. There will never be a good time to write. It will never be easier. If you won't find an hour a day now, you won't find it then."

It's the same belief as thinking that once you lose weight, you'll begin to feel good about yourself. No, you won't. If you're not okay with yourself at 185 pounds, you're not going to be okay at 140. It's an inside job. 

How do you begin? The answer is simple: you decide to. Then you push back your sleeves and start writing--I.e., scribbling words down on paper, or typing at a computer. And it will be completely awful. It will be unreadable shit! You won't have a clue how it account to anything, ever. And to that, I say, Welcome. That's what it's like to be a writer. But you just do it anyway. At my church, we sing a gospel song called, "Hallelujah anyway." Everything's a mess, and you're going down the tubes financially, and gaining weight? Well, Hallelujah anyway.

So you decide to get back to work creatively, and you write up some thoughts or passages or memories or scenes. Then what? Then you write some more. Everywhere you go, you carry a pen, and take notes--ideas will start to come to you. You'll see and overhear and remember things that you want to include in this mysterious quilt you're putting together, so you jot them down. Imagine a rag-bag guy who lives inside you, who collects images, descriptions, holy moments, snippets of funny conversation, for you to use in your writing--but he doesn't have any hands, and needs you to help him amass the rags with which you can make squares for the quilt.

That's all you have to do today: pay attention--being a writer is about paying attention. Stop hitting the snooze button. Carry a pen with you everywhere, or else God will give me all these insights and images that were supposed to go to you. Hang up a shingle on the inside of you: now open for business. Wow! You won't have to wake up at 70, aching with regret that you threw your creative essence under the bus. And if you already are seventy, then you won't have to wake up at eighty, confused and in despair about how you let your gift slip away. Because you will have been writing--or dancing again, or practicing recorder--every single glorious, livelong, weird, amazing day. -- Anne Lamott

A few good gems

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A few things that caught our eye this week:​

I love this free printable from SarahJane​. I'm printing one out and hanging it right above my desk.

Any Mad Men fans out there? I'll admit I watch the show primarily for the mid century furniture and the clothes. The styling is crazy good. How about Orange has links to Mad Men paper dolls!

Did you see this article in The Guardian about Anne Frank's step sister? Fascinating read.​

I've had a long time hankering to try my hand at macaron making. With Jordan's French farewell looming, I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and whip up some meringue. I have about 17 different macaron tabs open on my computer right now. This one seems helpful. And this one gives exact times for whipping.​ 

People are always asking me for book recommendations. But since I spend most of my reading time with academic stuff, I'm typically at a loss to offer up a good, entertaining read. However, I recently read Shelter by Frances Greenslade and was captivated by the prose and the storyline. It also helped that it was about sisters growing up in the 1970s -- that special decade when I acquired my Snoopy watch. And the mom? She'll break your heart.​

Amen to this.​

That's all for now. Happy weekending!​