anactoria

Joan Aiken’s pacing may have bobbled in some of her later books, but it’s full speed ahead in The Witch of Clatteringshaws, which she raced to get done with the literal deadline of her own encroaching demise.

She has a lot of loose ends to wrap up in this book, chief among them the question of who will be the next King of England. Simon is currently saddled with the job, but he doesn’t want it, because all he wants to do is live a quiet life communing with animals and painting, and also he would like to marry Dido who has very definitively stated that she is unwilling to be queen.

It’s not entirely clear to me if she’d like to marry Simon, but she’s a good bro who doesn’t want to see Simon stuck on the throne, so she heads off to the north to chase up the only lead they’ve got on a possible alternative king. Apparently there’s an Aelfric somewhere up in Caledonia with a claim to the throne?

Spoilers: we never find Aelfric. From beginning to end we have no idea who this man is. Like the thought speech, which was so important in the Is books and never appears again, this one of many loose ends Joan has decided she doesn’t have time to bother with. As she finished this book a scant four months before her death, that’s fair enough.

Instead, Dido finds a Dickensian old person’s home (and let’s pause to admire Aiken’s breadth of Dickensian vision: Dickensian orphanages, Dickensian schools, Dickensian mines, apparently Dickensian mills in Midnight Is a Place which we haven’t read yet, and now Dickensian retirement homes). And at this home there is a boy, an orphan foundling who has been raised as a drudge, even though he arrived at the door wrapped in a cloth emblazoned with a golden crown…

( Spoilers )

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Lo these many years ago, after my grandma died, I helped sort out her bookshelves, which held books all the way back from her book-loving aunts and uncles in the early 1900s. As I was at the time in a graduate program, staring down a Ph.D. thesis set roughly in that era, I took a few books that seemed representative, including George Barr McCutcheon’s The Alternative, as McCutcheon was a famous Hoosier humorist of the time period.

So was Booth Tarkington, whose work is still very funny, so I approached McCutcheon’s book with high hopes. However, this is perhaps not the place to start with McCutcheon, as it’s a bit of weightless romantic Christmas fluff that barely cracks one hundred pages despite largish type and beautiful green leafy borders around each page.

Beautifully printed, though. I might keep it just as a lovely example of the printer’s trade.

I’m not usually a bit audiobook person, but when troisoiseaux told me that Michael Schur (showrunner for, among other things, The Good Place) read his own audiobook WITH THE CAST OF THE GOOD PLACE, of course I had to listen to it. A fun romp through the history of moral philosophy, focusing most heavily on Aristotelian virtue ethics, utilitarianism, and Kant.

Schur is good at amusing descriptions of different moral approaches to problems, but less strong when he wanders off the beaten path to discuss, say, what moral philosophy has to say about engaging with the art of terrible people (or chicken sandwiches made by chicken sandwich companies with politics you abhor, etc.). He ultimately comes down on the side of “I guess you gotta decide for yourself,” which isn’t really guidance, especially after he’s just run through why he thinks virtue ethics, utilitarianism, and Kant’s Categorical Imperative suggest that you should give up that literal or metaphorical chicken sandwich. Have some guts, man! Either stand by your moral reasoning, or offer a counterargument why actually it’s FINE if we all chow down on some Chik-Fil-A.

What I’m Reading Now

Padraic Colum’s The Big Tree of Bunlahy: Stories of My Own Countryside. Colum won a couple of other Newbery Honors, both of which I felt were dry and dull, but apparently all Colum needed was the inspiration of writing about his very own corner of Ireland to blossom into a fascinating storyteller. I’m doling the book out one tale a night and it’s still going to end far too soon.

What I Plan to Read Next

Evelina has arrived!

I wrapped up the Newbery Honor books of 2025 with Andrea L. Rogers’ Chooch Helped, which also won the Caldecott Medal this year for Rebecca Lee Kunz’s rich sunset-colored illustrations. It’s a picture book about a long-suffering older sister who watches as her two-year-old brother “helps” various family members complete their tasks, usually by accidentally making more tasks by spilling the flour, pulling up the newly planted garden vegetables, tearing out the stitches in a freshly sewn pucker-toe moccasin, etc.

The sister, standing in for older siblings everywhere, is exasperated. Although of course in the book she moves past that exasperation, once her parents point out that she’s one of her little brother’s most important teachers, I suspect that this book may not be a hit with older siblings. Why does no one ever validate their feeling that their younger siblings are so annoying!!!!

As a youngest sibling, however, I was enchanted, especially because this is exactly the stage my niece is in, although (knock on wood!) unlike Chooch, she’s usually not actively destructive when she “helps.” It just takes twice as long to get anything done when she’s “helping” water the plants or mix the pancake batter. But to an adult, it’s totally worth it to see her attempting to haul around a gallon or water or measure a teaspoon of baking soda.

(A side story: last week, as I was washing up the pancake dishes, she was trying to get a slice of orange onto her spoon. At last she announced, “I’m frustrated.” There is nothing cuter than a two-year-old using a ten-cent word, so of course I stopped to help her get that orange onto her spoon.)

The illustrations are just lovely, too. I love the sunset-hewed pallet, the way that the patterns on the characters’ clothes splash a little past their outlines, the Cherokee motifs that Kunz wove into the illustrations. There’s a particularly gorgeous illustration of Chooch gigging for crawdads with the friend of the family, both of them dark silhouettes against the orange water, and a pale gold moon with a glowing aureole of fireflies.