3 . Kathleen Rooney knew that writing Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey, from the point of view of a pigeon, was a risk. Rooney, perhaps best known for her 2017 bestseller, Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk, says her interest in a feathered narrator was excited by one of her students at DePaul University, where she is an English professor. “A student named Brian mentioned Cher Ami in a poem. It blew my mind that this pigeon was so heroic and is stuffed and on display in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.”

Rooney learned that Cher Ami, a British homing pigeon, helped save a group of American troops during a horrific, multi-day World War I battle. The story of this amazing pigeon and the extraordinary man who commanded the battle, Major Charles Whittlesey, was altogether attractive.

In Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey, Charles reflects on his happier prewar days in New York City, where he ran a law firm with a college classmate. When it came time for battle, though, he and his fellows found themselves cut off from supply lines, surrounded by enemy German troops.

Carrier pigeons were the group’s only hope of contacting headquarters and getting the other Americans to stop dropping bombs on them. Cher Ami flew through gunfire to deliver Charles' message, which finally stopped the attack. She lost an eye and a leg, among other wounds, but was eventually able to hobble (蹒跚) on a tiny wooden prosthesis (义肢) that the Army made for her. She lived another year before dying of her injuries in 1919, but in the novel she continues speaking to readers behind glass in the Smithsonian where she’s been since her death.

There’s an interesting lesson to be learned from Charles’ decisions in the battle, too. “He was famous for something we’d describe as passive,” Rooney says. “Once they were in the pocket, he waited as long as he could. I’m an impatient, active person ... His act was stillness, waiting, keeping everybody’s spirits up. The way he did that was amazing.”

Rooney also hopes the book, with its portrayal of the charming and brave Cher Ami, will boost the appreciation of our furry and feathered friends.

5 . Road trip stories are basically wild adventures of self-discovery. But the book Me (Moth) carves out a path through ancestry (祖先), pains and art.

Moth is a dancer with a loving, supportive family - until a terrible car accident takes them all away. Now she doesn't dance any more and lives with her sad aunt, wearing borrowed clothes and living on what feels like borrowed time, because not even the wisdom and Hoodoo (扶都教) passed down to her by her grandfather can bring back her family or ease her pain. Her survivor's guilt is so strong that she makes herself almost invisible.

Until the new boy at school, Sani, notices her. He sings when he thinks no one is listening and he sees Moth like no one else does. The two young people decide on a road trip across the country and hope to make some sense of their life on the way.

Novels in poetic language can sometimes feel awkward, but the book, Me (Moth) spills effortlessly across the page, becoming the song that Moth and Sani write together on their journey. It's all in Moth's voice, and her words dance, giving the reader a real sense of how she can move her body if she isn't afraid to. The language is sometimes so beautiful and terrible that it catches me off guard.

During their trip to the South, Moth and Sani stop to pay respect to the spirits of those who came before them, and to think about their strengths as well as the pains that they've suffered. As they do so, their own strengths and pains are connected with the ones that came before.

7 . It was our first evening dog-sitting while our teenage daughter Rochelle was on vacation for two weeks. Louie searched the entire house for his “mommy”. Then, that disappointed but determined puppy （小狗） developed a plan.

While my husband Paul and I were watching TV, we heard loud noises. Something heavy was being dragged down the stairs. I looked around and saw this six-month-old puppy laboriously dragging his large, hard-sided carrier down the stairs. The next moment saw him drag his possessions one by one, first his blanket, and then his bowl, bone, ball and sweater. The project took most of the evening but Louie showed no sign of tiredness at all.

After packing all the items into the carrier, he attempted to jump inside. Once inside, he got the zipper between his teeth and, with all the strength, he pulled the zipper closed. Then he lay down and went to sleep in it throughout the night. The message was abundantly clear. He wanted to go see his “mommy”. He had seen her pack her suitcase and go away for her vacation. He must do the same so he could find her. When I unzipped his carrier in the morning, Louie was excited, but his “mommy” was nowhere to be seen.

The puppy surprised us with new undertakings every day. His absolutely favorite activity was going for a car ride. The possibility of stopping at McDonald's was his consideration. But one day, my husband didn't stop at McDonald's. He left Louie in the car with the window slightly open while he went to a drugstore. Louie managed to jump out of the window. He walked two blocks and found Paul, walking around him as if saying, “Can we go to have fried chicken now?”

Louie is an old gray-haired dog now, but he is still up to his old, and new, tricks.

8 . My first year living in Los Angeles, I was a birthday-party clown. I struggled a lot with my identity because, though I viewed myself as a filmmaker, everyone in my life viewed me as this ridiculous day job.

Once I was told, “Tomorrow you’re going to be Batman.” Now, keep in mind that at the time I had a giant mustache. I know a clown with a mustache is a huge red flag for parents. But I hadn’t wanted to alter my physical appearance for that job, because that would have been me subconsciously admitting I was more of a clown than an artist.

The next day, I went to the party in a huge public park, and I left my car parked far enough away so that the kids couldn’t see Batman pulling up in a PT Cruiser. Walking to the party, I started to regret my choice not to shave. “Gosh, this party is not going to go well.” Sure enough, once I got close enough for them to actually start making out the features of my face, the entire party broke out in laughter. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to turn around and run back to my Batmobile. But then the laughter kind of changed into cheering and applause. Feeling kind of warm and fuzzy inside, I wondered, “Is this what encouragement and support feel like? It’s so new.”

Then I decided to make an entrance for these kids. I was still about 20 yards away from the party when I started running. My cape was billowing in the wind, and mustache or not, in that moment, I was Batman. I ran into the party, and the kids were all high-fiving me. The dad was saying, “I told you, son. I told you Batman has a mustache.” Then he took me over to this huge birthday cake with a frosting Batman drawn on it, and the Batman has a mustache. I just stared at it in disbelief and learnt that instead of just admitting that the cake was messed up, the parents said, “Batman has a mustache. He just shaves it for his movies.”

That year, I struggled a lot with my identity; was I a filmmaker, or was I a clown? But that day, at least, there was no doubt in my mind what I was. I may not have been the hero that they ordered, and I certainly was not the hero they expected. But that day, I was the hero that they needed.

9 . A few years ago, I moved to Aurora, Ont. with my boyfriend and I longed to make friends in my new neighborhood.

Where we lived the houses were jammed together so tightly. But the irony (讽刺) of living so close was that no one actually talked to each other; as in an open-concept office, they pretend they can’t hear or see each other to maintain at least an illusion of privacy.

It was not so easy to make friends as an adult. I was about to give up when I caught sight of a beautiful, tall blonde taking out her recycling. She walked with confidence—even her ponytail bounced. I gasped, “I recycle too! We have so much in common!”

The question was, how would we meet? What would I say? So I thought, “What if I just happened to be jogging by?” I put on my running shoes, but after a few times around the block, dripping sweat, I didn’t see her. I decided to seize on the one thing I already knew about her— she takes out her blue bin.

The following day, I woke up a little earlier than usual. A little after 8 a.m., the garage truck appeared and the blonde emerged. I grabbed a bin and made my way to the end of my driveway. “Just act naturally, Megan,” I told myself. “Good morning. How are you?” I said, cool as a cucumber. “Good. And you?” she replied. “Doing well…I am a new comer, just a DJ. I talk for a living. Clearly!” “Interesting,” she said.

As we both walked away, I turned and called out, “Oh, and by the way, I’m Megan.” “Michelle,” she replied. I walked back inside, wearing a giant grin.

Our “coincidental” recycling meet-ups continued for a few weeks until I finally gathered my courage to ask her to watch The Bachelor with me and she said yes.

That night, after we got everything ready, we settled on the couch and proceeded to drink wine, binge from our buffet, dissect doomed television relationships, tell stories about our own and laugh our faces off. We “found what we’d been looking for”: a new friend to fall platonically in love with.

10 . Doug Falter, an American photographer, returned home, teary-eyed and exhausted. He pouted online that evening, "I lost my baby." That "baby" referred to a surfboard that had been custom-made for him. Hours earlier, a big wave had separated Falter from this prized possession.

Months passed with no sign of the surfboard. Falter saved money to buy a new surfboard for $ 1,500. But Falter never completely forgot the surfboard, which - six months later and more than 5,000 miles away from where it disappeared-floated to the southern Philippines.The local fisherman who found it didn't have much use of his unusual catch of the day, so he sold the board for s 40 to Giovanne Branzuela, an elementary school teacher. Branzuela hoped to learn to surf and one day share the skill with his students,who regularly accompany him on beach clean-ups.

The once-blue board had faded to a pale straw color during its journey, but its distinctive markings were still there: two elephants, one at either end. Underneath the elephants were the words "Doug Falter Surfboard".

Branzuela couldn't believe it on realizing how far the surfboard had traveled. He reached Falter online and sent him a photo of the surfboard. Falter was shocked to learn that his "baby"had drifted(漂流) across the world's largest ocean and survived. He was overjoyed.

But the story was far from over. Falter wanted to thank Branzuela with some surfing supplies for his kind act, but the teacher asked for school supplies instead, such as backpacks for his students and materials to help them learn English.

Falter said it made him raise money for the kids. So far, he has collected $ 2,500,which he has used to buy and ship maps, puzzles, classroom posters, textbooks, and workbooks.