About the book
This book was inspired by one of the greatest joys of parenting a toddler: The fact that they make NO sense. It is a celebration of “toddler brain”—that magical, nonsensical, stream-of-consciousness way they seem to process the world around them. In The Book That Makes No Sense, you will find a psychedelic toddler dreamscape in which we escort an imaginative young child on a journey of learning and discovery…in their words.
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About the book
Watch as a little girl kicks a crown in the dust behind her to embark on her latest adventure. Our little girl is so many things, but she is most certainly NOT a princess. She’s an explorer, a climber, a lover of blueberries, and an expert at make-believe. This book is an ode to spirited little girls who lead beautifully messy existences. Who say “no” to princess costumes and “yes” to daydreaming. Who understand that their worth resides within, and not in some damsel-in-distress fairytale ending.
Why I wrote the book
The moment I learned I was pregnant, I grew excited to read to my unborn child. Books mean a lot to me, and I was eager to share my favorite narratives with my kid. To re-experience the joys of a story through the eyes and ears of a fresh human specimen—what a delight!
But something deeply disturbing happened as I sorted through old copies of the children’s books my parents had tucked away for so many years, hoping for grandkids. I realized quite quickly that a lot of books for kids are riddled with not-so-subtly sexist messages.
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In Surviving In Spirit, Mélanie Berliet explores how witnessing her older sister’s prolonged struggle with alcoholism and eventual death informed her own unprecedented choices in life and love.
What prompts a young woman to abandon the safe bounds of convention for the unknown? At first, all Mélanie understood was that she’d lost her sense of what ‘supposed to’ meant. And that her older sister Céline was sick.
While it’s tough to understand what leads a person into addiction–to witness someone you love kind of kill herself–the truth is that you can learn from it. By the time Céline died at age 30, she was Kermit The Frog green and she vomited blood more frequently than she was able to eat. In less than a decade, she had gone from summa cum laude Columbia graduate to NYU PhD student to unemployed, rambling, stumbling drunk saddled with a cirrhotic liver beyond repair. By the time Céline died, Mélanie was no longer a Miss Goody Two Shoes from a waspy Connecticut suburb trotting down the sensible path. She was an adult who had abandoned a secure job on Wall Street to establish a career as a writer committed to exploring fascinating subcultures.
As Céline’s illness escalated, you see, a basic lesson crept up on Mélanie: Life is beautifully short, and fragile as hell. Life happens. Gradually, Mélanie stopped agonizing over what she was supposed to do/think/know/read/listen to/watch/feel, or who she was supposed to be/befriend/love/like/learn from. So she pitched projects that sounded crazy and/or dangerous to most, but which gave her a thrill and helped her establish a career as an immersive journalist. She grew some balls, so to speak, after freeing herself from caring about what others might think.
The devastating beauty of what happened to Céline forced Mélanie to question who she is. However unwittingly, in dying, Céline empowered her younger sister to take risks–to live. This is their story.
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