I like that statement. It’s empowering. Tell. Your. Truth.
In her newest book, The Laughing Dead, the third in her fictional “A Steinbeck and Reed Thriller” series, Lourey writes about three cold case murders of young women and two current-day murders. Bureau of Criminal Apprehension Agent Evangeline “Van” Reed and forensic scientist Harry Steinbeck once again team up to work the cases, one that becomes deeply personal for Reed.
In typical Lourey writing, the plot twists and turns and screams and scares as the story unfolds. At times I truly did not understand what was real and what wasn’t. That comes as no surprise given secrets theme many of Lourey’s books. The Laughing Dead is no exception.
But what stuck with me throughout the book was the strength of Van Reed, born into a cult led by abusive, controlling and narcissistic Frank Roth. When he was arrested, the “Mothers” and “Sisters” scattered, some remaining devotedly loyal while others like Reed escaped and severed ties. She then went into law enforcement. In The Laughing Dead, Reed confronts her past, the secrets she keeps and the trauma she’s endured.
Yet, this book goes beyond a fictional character in a thriller. This story is, more broadly, about domestic abuse and violence, a reality for too many women (and, yes, some men also). It was absolutely fitting that I should read The Laughing Dead during National Domestic Violence Awareness Month in October. Lourey, in her book, writes about the power, manipulation and control used by abusers to entrap and silence their victims. Abusers, just like the fictional Frank Roth, will act loving and doting then turn into oppressive, abusive, overpowering, violent and controlling individuals. Sort of like a nightmarish chameleon.
Lourey, through her writing, is doing more than entertaining readers who appreciate a good thriller. She is raising awareness about domestic abuse and violence. And she is showing, via main character Van Reed, that it is possible to escape domestic abuse and violence, to rise above trauma. To tell your truth. And survive.
THIS WEEK ONE OF MY FAVORITE area writers comes to downtown Faribault. He’s Owatonnan Chris Norbury, award-winning author of three books in the Matt Lanier mystery-thriller series and a stand alone middle school novel, Little Mountain, Big Trouble.
Books on Central, a used bookshop of the Rice County Area United Way, is hosting Norbury beginning at 6 p.m. Thursday, October 23, as part of its author series. Norbury will read and talk about his books and the craft of writing.
I’m excited to see Norbury again. We’ve chatted briefly several times when he was selling his books at events in Faribault. He is a genuinely nice guy whose writing I happen to love. As a writer, I recognize Norbury’s devotion to craft—the time, energy, inspiration and hard work it takes to write a book. I expect to learn more during his upcoming talk and the Q & A that follows.
My first introduction to Norbury came via his mysteries, all set in Minnesota with recognizable place titles like Castle Danger, Straight River and Dangerous Straits. Main character Matt Lanier is a southern Minnesota farm kid turned professional musician. I’m especially drawn to books set in Minnesota and with strong home-grown characters like Lanier.
(Book cover sourced online)
But it is Norbury’s novel for middle schoolers (and older, including adults), Little Mountain, Big Trouble, which really resonates with me. I encourage you to read my review of this book (click here) about 12-year-old Eduardo, who is bullied and eventually paired with a Big Brother, Russ. Like Russ, Norbury was a Big Brother for 20 years and today donates a portion of his book sales to Big Brothers Big Sisters of Southern Minnesota. I appreciate Norbury’s generous ongoing support of an organization which helps young people.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Books on Central also gives back to community through its umbrella organization Rice County Area United Way. Book sale proceeds go to the United Way which in turn provides financial support to select nonprofits in the county. All book inventory is donated by community members and all staff at the used bookshop are volunteers. There’s so much to love about this Minnesota bookstore and Minnesota writers like Chris Norbury. Kindness, compassion and community center both as they embrace books and the craft of writing.
FYI: Books on Central, 227 Central Avenue North, Faribault, is open from 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wednesday-Friday and from 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturdays and other times for special literary and other events.
This American Library Association poster anchors the Banned Books Week display at my local library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
AS A WRITER, journalist and avid reader, I’m a firm believer in free speech. Never have I seen that right more threatened in America than it is today. It’s downright scary—efforts by the federal government to suppress voices (already occurring), promises of retribution (now being carried out), abuse of power (happening on so many levels) and much more that threatens our very freedoms, our democracy. I could go on and on.
But today I want to focus on Banned Books Week, which ends tomorrow. Thursday evening I gathered with a group of volunteers for an appreciation event at Books on Central in Faribault, a used bookshop founded by the Rice County Area United Way. While I don’t volunteer there (yet), I’ve blogged about the bookstore numerous times because I love books and I love that monies from BOC book sales help nonprofits in my area. We weren’t there to discuss banned books, though, but rather to celebrate volunteerism and this small bookshop which has become much-beloved by the Faribault community and beyond.
It was not lost on me as I sat there surrounded by books, listening to volunteers share their passion for this place and for books, that everyone who walks in the door is surrounded by choices. As it should be. Choose what you want to read or want to share with others.
A powerful and fitting quote for Banned Book Week displayed at Buckham Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Yet, there are individuals, organizations, elected government officials and others who want to determine what we can read by banning books from libraries, schools and elsewhere. That, my friends, is censorship. And I’m not OK with that. If I find the content of a book to be offensive, then I can stop reading it or never open it in the first place. Likewise parents can monitor their child’s reading materials just as they would online content.
A sampling of books that have been banned in various places in America. These were included in a display at my library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
In the words of the American Library Association’s 2025 Banned Books Week theme, “CENSORSHIP is so 1984.” That’s a reference to George Orwell’s prophetic 1949 novel, 1984, about a totalitarian government. That’s a simplistic summary. But the book is particularly relevant to today. I intend to check it out from my library to reread.
Bracelets available at Buckham Library support the RIGHT TO READ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
After the bookshop appreciation event Thursday evening, I stopped at Buckham Memorial Library to see if staff had created a Banned Books display as they have in the past. They did. After I read the information and looked at a sampling of books that have been banned (not from my library), I grabbed a green bracelet imprinted with this message: CENSORSHIP is so 1984. READ FOR YOUR RIGHTS.
I will continue to read. I will continue to write. And I will continue to embrace, support and advocate for free speech. I have a voice. I refuse to be silenced.
A promo for Martha Brown’s presentation about Cambodia sits on the checkout counter at Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault.
HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”
I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.
THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE
I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.
I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.
A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN
The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.
In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.
LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA
Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.
When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.
Book cover sourced online.
A MUST-READ BOOK
Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.
In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.
Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.
Why? The content is so difficult, disturbing and devastating that I could only read this work of nonfiction in small chunks. But I was determined to finish this book about Jock, Anita, Chana and Regina—four Jewish girls living in Nazi Germany—and all connected by red sweaters. I owed it to them to learn more about the awful atrocities inflicted under Adolph Hitler’s rule by those who lived, breathed, and followed him and his ideology.
All the while I was reading Four Red Sweaters, a small voice in my head whispered warnings in words like a knock on the door, fear, anti-immigration sentiment, snatched, disappeared, deported, deception, secrecy, dehumanizing… The parallels to today were not lost on me.
REAL PEOPLE WITH STORIES
What I particularly like about this book, if one can ever really “like” a book on such a topic, is the personalization. Anita is not just #69388 inked onto her left forearm at Auschwitz-Birkenau. She is a girl who arrives at the concentration camp wearing shoes adorned with pompoms and tied with red shoelaces. She is a girl who knew how to play the cello. That skill eventually saved her.
But too many died. Millions and millions. That included the Fink family, brutally murdered by their neighbors in an act so heinous I can’t share it here. Turn to page 96 in the book. The Finks were extended family of Jock, a main character in this story. She was one of the “lucky” Jewish children who escaped Nazi Germany, along with her sisters, on a Kindertransport, an all-out effort by brave souls to get Jewish children out of the country to safety. But Jock’s parents and brothers died at the hands of the Nazis.
The pages of Four Red Sweaters are filled with heroic acts, bravery, defiance and determination that show the incredible strength of the human spirit. There existed a mentality of surviving together or dying together. The pages of this book are also filled with stories of unbelievable, unfathomable cruelty.
A NECESSARY READ
Author Adlington backs her writing up with 23 pages of source notes. In small print. That’s a whole lot of documentation in researching and writing this book. I cannot imagine the emotional toll this took on her. I also cannot imagine anyone reading Four Red Sweaters and not feeling deeply moved and worried, but also grateful to Adlington for sharing the stories of Jock, Anita, Chana and Regina and the broader stories of the Holocaust. We need to read about, study, learn and remember the past so as not to repeat it.
Near the very end of Four Red Sweaters, Adlington writers about a knitter who, in 2013, designed Remembrance socks. Heatherly Walker’s sock pattern honors Regina and the others who were forced to knit socks and more for the Nazis and their families. She incorporated hidden Jewish stars into the pattern, which is available on the Ravelry website for crafters. Knitting is an integral part of the stories Adlington shares in her book.
One seemingly small act stands out for me in Four Red Sweaters. Regina’s friend Esther, after foraging mushrooms for the Nazis in the Sobibor extermination camp, walks into the SS canteen, sees a pot of soup cooking and spits in it. And the Nazis eat it. I can only imagine the satisfaction Esther felt in that moment of defiance. Endless examples of defiance, courage, hope and resilience are knitted into the pages of Four Red Sweaters.
As challenging as it was for me to read this book, I needed to do so. For to stop reading when the content grew increasingly difficult and disturbing would have been to do exactly as the Nazis desired. Nobody must know. But we must all know. And, sometimes, like Esther, we must spit in the soup.
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TELL ME: If you’ve read Four Red Sweaters, how did you react? What stands out for you in the book? Special thanks to Missy’s Crafty Mess (the blog of an avid reader and knitter) for writing about Four Red Sweaters, which led me to this book about the Holocaust. I am grateful for her recommendation.
This page from an altered book crafted by my friend Kathleen shows my mom holding me. Mom died in January 2022. I love the quote. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THREE MOTHERS. Three strong women. Three remarkable experiences. This Mother’s Day I feel compelled to share the stories of a trio of moms. Their stories are decidedly different, yet similar in the common denominators of strength and love.
Photographed in a small southern Minnesota town, a box containing Naloxone used as an emergency treatment for an opioid overdose or suspected overdose. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
MOTHER OF A RECOVERING ADDICT
Let’s start with the woman checking out my clutch of greeting cards recently at a local chain discount store. As I stepped up to the counter, a young man bade her goodbye. “I love you, Mom,” he said while walking toward the exit.
It was one of those moments when I simply had to say something. “That’s so sweet,” I said, looking directly at the clerk.
I don’t remember our entire conversation. But I do recall the highlights. Her son is a recovering addict two years sober. “I almost buried him,” she told me.
“You must be so proud of him,” I replied. And she was and is and I wanted to reach across that check out counter and hug her. But I didn’t. My encouraging words would have to suffice. I walked out of that store feeling grateful for this mom who never gave up on her son and for the son who recognizes the value of her ongoing love and support.
This shows two of the 22 Miller siblings featured in an exhibit at the Waseca County History Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
MOTHER OF TWENTY-TWO
Then there’s Lucille Miller of rural Waseca, married to Alvin and mother of their 22 children. Yes, twenty-two, all single births. I learned about the Miller family recently while touring the Waseca County History Center. An entire display focuses on them.
Lucille gave birth to her first child in December 1940 at age 17 and her last in January 1966 at age 43. Fifteen girls and seven boys (oldest to youngest): Ramona, Alvin Jr., Rose, Kathleen, Robert, Patricia, Marylu, Diane, John, Janet, Linda, Virginia, Helen, Art, Dolores, Martin, Pauline, Alice, Angela, Marcia, Gregory and Damien.
I can’t even fathom being pregnant that often, birthing that many children, or coming up with that many names. But Lucille Miller did just that and raised her children on the family’s Blooming Grove Township farm. She died in August 2006, her husband not even a year later. Lucille and Alvin never intended to have 22 kids. But these deeply spiritual parents considered each and every one a blessing.
Information I found online backs that up. This mother of many also “took in” several kids, led two women’s organizations and worked to establish local group homes for the disabled. Three of the Miller children had disabilities.
Helen Miller’s book about growing up in a Minnesota farm family of 22 children.
Helen Miller, 13th in line, calls her mom “a saint.” (I certainly don’t question that assessment.) She’s written a book, 21 Siblings: Cheaper by the Two Dozen, about growing up in this mega family where the Catholic church and school centered life and organization was key in keeping everyday life running smoothly. Chores were listed, then assigned, and siblings used the buddy system. I have not yet read the book, but intend to do so.
I expect the obituary of Lucille’s daughter, Virginia Miller Pelto, 60, who died on May 8, 2014, just days before Mother’s Day, reflects the way in which her mother lived: Of the many things Virginia loved, above all she loved people. As a very spiritual person, she put the world on her shoulders and in her prayers. She donated time to her church, her community and anyone who needed to just talk. Any mother would be proud to have a daughter with such a giving and compassionate spirit.
My daughter Miranda and grandson Everett, 3 months old when this photo was taken. (Photo courtesy of Miranda, April 2025)
MOTHER OF EVERETT
Finally, there’s the story of my second daughter. Miranda became a first-time mom in mid-January. Considered a “geriatric mom” given her closing-in-on-forty age, she was closely-monitored throughout her pregnancy. Miranda was in excellent physical condition—she’s a letter carrier. Her pregnancy proved uneventful with labor commencing the day before her due date. But then everything changed. For the worse. Labor was long, delivery difficult with baby’s head and shoulder getting stuck. Once Everett—all 10 pounds of him—was born, Miranda experienced extensive postpartum hemorrhaging requiring the transfusion of three units of blood. A team of doctors and other medical personnel at a Madison, Wisconsin, hospital worked to save her life.
A week later, after Miranda and John were semi-settled at home with Everett, Randy and I traveled to Madison to see all of them. When the new parents recounted harrowing details of that difficult birth, my strong strong daughter said she feared she might die. Before she saw her son.
As Miranda and I stood in the nursery, arms wrapped around each other gazing down at newborn sleeping Everett, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. I still get emotional thinking about how I nearly lost my daughter on the day my second grandson was born. I’ve written about that experience in a short story, “Birthing Everett,” which will publish in late August in The Talking Stick anthology.
We all have mothers. We all have stories, whether we are sons or daughters or mothers ourselves. Today I honor all mothers, especially Miranda, Lucille Miller and the store clerk who nearly buried her son. They are three strong women.
Sidewalk poetry in downtown Northfield, Minnesota, carries a powerful message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I DON’T READ MUCH POETRY. I probably shouldn’t admit that given I’m a published poet. But I suspect most of you also are not big poetry readers. Yet, we all should be, especially me.
Becky Boling’s recently-released first collection of published poetry. The cover features the poet’s artwork. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Poetry offers a creative way to view the world, to experience life, eliciting a whole range of emotional responses that connect us to each other, to the earth, to the past and present, and much more. I get excited when I discover a poet whose work truly resonates with me. And that would be the poetry of Northfielder Becky Boling.
We Look West was published in early 2024 by Shipwreckt Book Publishing Company. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2024)
A year ago, I met Boling when she dropped off a copy of the anthology, We Look West, a collaboration of the Poets of the Northfield Public Library. It includes her work and that of four other talented poets. I love the collection which takes the reader from the sunrise to the sunset of life. The poetry therein is so understandable and relatable.
A box holds bagged poems included in the “Poetry in a Bag” project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2024)
In May 2024, Boling, I and several other poets participated in a community poetry reading for the “Poetry in a Bag” project coordinated by Mercado Local, a Northfield marketplace for immigrants. Our poems were printed, rolled and bagged before distribution within our communities.
I would see Boling again in September 2024, when she and the other Northfield poets read from We Look West at Books on Central, a Rice County Area United Way used bookshop in Faribault.
Selected prose and poetry about the pandemic and social justice issues were published by the Ramsey County Public Library in this anthology. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The poetry of Becky Boling in her first published collection featuring 37 of her poems. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Because of those shared experiences, shared publications and shared love of words, I feel a sisterhood with Boling. So when she asked if I wanted a copy of her first solo poetry collection, I responded with an enthusiastic, “Yes!” Within the pages of Here Beyond Small Wonders, I found what I’ve come to expect from Boling—detailed writing, often about the most ordinary subjects—a dead mouse, a fly, walnuts… Topics you may not even consider poetry-worthy. But Boling has this ability to observe and engage all of her senses to craft words into connective, meaningful poetry.
A Wisconsin farm site photographed from Interstate 90 could be a poetry prompt.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In her poem “Snow Pond,” she defines poetry: Poetry, like freezing temps, seizes the moment, recasts it—through the physics of sight, memory, language—resurrects it anew into patterns, sound and light, marks on a snowy page that glisten and melt on tongue, alight on the inner eye. That definition of poetry is among the best I’ve read, because it is poetry.
Clothespins on my clothesline clip clothing, not beach towels. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Anyone who writes poetry recognizes the challenges of finding just the right word, of stringing words together in a new, creative and succinct way, of connecting on an emotional level. But Boling makes the process look easy, taking the reader along with her, whether into her yard or onto the sandy shores of Lake Michigan. In her poem “Clothesline,” she writes of beach towels dancing in the wind. She takes the reader to the beach, to the sights, scents and sounds along the inland sea. I feel her fingertips unclipping the dried towels at end of day as she gathers them like weary babes into my open arms. I did not see that end coming. That element of surprise is, too, a mark of a gifted poet.
Kid-sized Adirondack chairs on a Minnesota beach. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Her “Adirondack Chair in Snow” is another favorite of mine in Boling’s collection of 37 poems published by Finishing Line Press. She writes of the typically-lakefront chair wedged into a snowbank outside her mother’s apartment building. But this poem is about so much more than an out-of-place chair buried in snow. Boling uses personification to write about her mother. In those six verses, I found myself missing my own mom, who died during the pandemic in January 2022. Boling’s emotions, my emotions, weave together in her writing and in my reaction.
My own artsy autumn leaf image, of leaves in the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In one of her longest poems, Boling writes about the transition to autumn in “Persephone’s Bouquet.” Unfamiliar with this Greek goddess, I learned that Persephone’s descent into the underworld is associated with the start of winter. Autumn themes Boling’s poem as the author gathers hot-pepper reds, creamy yellows…brazen scarlet…leaves, something I also enjoy doing in fall. But this is a poem about life, too, not just about a change in seasons. Plus, the poem connects to the cover of Here Beyond Small Wonders, Boling’s own autumn leaf art.
Her first collection of poems is about nature and place and seasons and life. Moments experienced. Details noticed right down to a tar-dark county road…horse flies, green heads glistening in the sun…reedy breath trembling into song. Boling, in her words, opens herself to a pool of words. And I, for one, embrace her poetic writing.
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FYI: Becky Boling is a retired professor of Spanish and Latin American literature at Carleton College in Northfield. Her poetry and prose have been widely-published in literary journals and anthologies. She also served as a Co-Poet Laureate of Northfield. Click here to find Here Beyond Small Wonders on the Finishing Line Press website.
The James-Younger Gang shooting it out during a past Defeat of Jesse James Days parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
NORTHFIELD, MINNESOTA is best-known as the community that, on September 7, 1876, thwarted plans by the James-Younger Gang to rob the First National Bank. Townspeople stood their ground against the outlaws, ending in the deaths of the acting bank cashier, a Swedish immigrant and two of the robbers before the gang fled. Northfield marks the failed bank robbery each September with a Defeat of Jesse James Days celebration. That draws 100,000-plus to this city of some 21,000.
Books I’ve purchased at a used book sale, not in Northfield, but in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
This week the masses will once again descend on this riverside college town, not for a historical occasion, but rather for one of Minnesota’s biggest used book sales, the Great Northfield Minnesota Book Fair. Certainly, crowds will not swell to levels gathered for the historical event in September. But they will be large, as I can attest from shopping past book fairs, although not recently.
The sale, sponsored by the Northfield Hospital Auxiliary, features an estimated 70,000 donated books, musical recordings, games and puzzles filling tables inside the Northfield Ice Arena. The goal is to raise $100,000 “to enhance healthcare in the Northfield Area.” That means funding special projects at the local hospital and clinics, supporting local health organizations and offering health education scholarships. The book fair began in 1961 and in 2018 hit $1 million in total sales.
Doors for this year’s sale open at 5 p.m. Tuesday, April 22, closing for the day at 9 p.m.. The fair continues until Saturday, April 26, with the following hours: 9 a.m.-9 p.m. Wednesday-Friday and from 8 a.m.-3 p.m. Saturday. Friday is half-price day. Saturday is $5 bag day until 12:30 p.m. From 1-3 p.m. Saturday everything is free. Yes, free.
Puzzles will also be sold at the Book Fair in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Shopping this book fair almost leaves you feeling like you’re robbing the bank given the reasonable prices. Base prices for paperbacks are $1 and for hardcovers, $2, according to the Book Fair website. Of course, some are priced higher depending on rarity or newness. Musical offerings will cost a few bucks. Puzzles and games are priced around $5.
I’ve never shopped the first, or even the second or third, day of the sale. I suppose I’ve missed out by waiting, especially when looking for children’s books. But, hey, with a starting inventory of 70,000, it takes a while for the supply to diminish. There’s still plenty for people to haul out (and they do, by the wagon and box loads) during Saturday’s two-hour freebie close-out.
Defeat of Jesse James Days bobbleheads for sale at the Northfield History Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Some 300 volunteers sort through donations, set up and run the sale in the sprawling ice arena with books separated into more than two dozen categories. The organization and efficiency are truly something to behold. The sheer size of this book fair is overwhelming. But then again, Northfield is a city that values books, knowledge and learning, as evidenced by its two liberal arts colleges, an independent bookstore, an engaged public library and an active writing community, especially of poets. That Northfield hosts one of Minnesota’s biggest book fairs should come as no surprise. This is a community which embraces books, and stands up to bank robbers.
Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault, Minnesota.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I LOVE LIBRARIES for the most basic reason. Books. I love to read. And, for me, Buckham Memorial Library, only blocks from my home, is my go-to source for reading materials.
(National Library Week promo sourced online)
The week of April 6-12, National Library Week, I’ve been celebrating public libraries and all they offer. And that’s well beyond books. Libraries have evolved from a shushed setting of a stern librarian sitting behind a desk to warm and welcoming community spaces. I so appreciate the way libraries connect and grow community. I value the vast and varied services and programming they offer.
Dancers at a previous Hispanic Heritage Month event in Northfield, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019.
Through the years, I’ve enjoyed many author talks in the Great Hall at Buckham. I’ve even participated myself in a poetry reading and a local authors event. Likewise, I’ve attended author talks at the public library in neighboring Owatonna. In Northfield, I’ve gone to a Hispanic Heritage Month celebration. I’ve checked books out from both those nearby libraries and from all over Minnesota through the inter-library loan system. Almost any book is available to me with only the click of my keyboard and mouse. You’ll even find my writing in books available at the library. That includes This Was 2020: Minnesotans Write About Pandemics and Social Justice in a Historic Year, an award-winning book published by the Ramsey County Public Library.
Books and magazines I checked out from the Northfield Library in the past. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
If I didn’t have access to books through libraries, I would struggle. Many evenings I settle into the recliner and read. Reading is an escape for me and a source of information. That I have the freedom to walk into a library and choose a book is not something I take for granted. As a child, I didn’t have easy access to books given my small rural Minnesota community did not have a library. And now, as public and school libraries face book bannings and funding cuts, I hold even more dear the freedom to choose books from the shelves of a well-stocked library.
Sunflowers burst color into the library garden where flowers and vegetables are grown for the community.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I can also choose a whole lot more like movies and music CDs. My library also offers Adventure Kits which hold yard games, hobby-focused items (for bird watching, cake decorating, rockhounding, etc) and more. There are 3D printer labs, a Makerspace, ukulele lessons, art and gardening classes (even a community garden), a seed library, free state park passes… The list goes on and on.
This information was posted in a display at my library several years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Libraries truly are hubs for learning, and not just from books, magazines and newspapers.
Immigrant portraits by a local artist were displayed in the library corridor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)
Occasional art exhibits in the hallway linking my library to the Faribault Community Center also teach me. Currently, the traveling exhibit “Testify: Americana Slavery to Today” spans that space. It’s an informative and emotion-evoking panel display of photos and information that left me deeply touched and near tears. In the past, I’ve viewed portraits of immigrants and second-generation immigrants by local artist Kate Langlais as part of her “I Am Minnesota” project. Creating an art gallery in a corridor that would otherwise serve as simply a functional connector between two buildings seems a wise use of space.
My poem, “Funeral during a Pandemic,” is published in this book available for check out at my local library and other Minnesota libraries. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Libraries truly are about connecting. Connecting us to stories, knowledge, information and ideas. Connecting us to each other. Young parents gather in libraries for storytime. Youth meet in my library for pizza and book discussions. The library brings music and other entertainment to the community for kids. Years ago, my son learned to yo-yo from Dazzling Dave, a national yo-yo master. Dave is still teaching Faribault kids to yo-yo during summertime library programming.
The best book I’ve ever read on the craft of writing. It’s the only Stephen King book I’ve ever read because I don’t like his genre of books. (Book cover sourced online)
My son, who now works in software research and development, taught himself to code by checking out thick books on coding from the library. And that was in junior high. I’ve checked out books on writing and photography to grow my skills. But mostly, simply reading improves my writing.
Outside the Northfield Public Library during a past Hispanic Heritage Month celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I could go on and on about how much libraries offer and how much I value, appreciate and love them. So much draws me to the library. “Drawn to the Library” themes National Library Week. Whether the library in my community or one in a nearby city or a Little Free Library in a front yard, libraries are vital to our communities, to our country, and to me personally. They are an open and (mostly) uncensored place to access knowledge, to widen our world, to connect and grow community.
A bison photo by Jim Brandenburg hangs to the left and the photographer talks about his work in a video, right, inside the Brandenburg Gallery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
IN MY EYES, he was Minnesota’s best-known photographer. Exceptionally talented. No one even comes close to matching the wildlife and nature photography of Jim Brandenburg. He died April 4 at the age of 79. Not only has Minnesota lost a creative icon, but so has the world. Brandenburg’s prolific work was featured in National Geographic Magazine, earning him the publication’s coveted Lifetime Achievement Award in 2023. His award-winning photos were widely-published internationally. He also published numerous books featuring collections of his photos.
The entry to the Brandenburg Gallery, located in the Rock County Courthouse square. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
But there is perhaps one lesser-known place where Brandenburg’s images can be found. And that’s in the Brandenburg Gallery inside the historic Rock County Courthouse in his hometown of Luverne. That’s in the extreme southwestern corner of Minnesota. The prairie. My prairie.
Light plays upon walls, floors and Brandenburg photos in a stairway display. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
Eleven years ago I toured that gallery, studying and enjoying a sampling of Brandenburg’s images. Many in this collection are prairie-themed. Because I’m a photographer, I viewed his photos with a more focused perspective, noticing angles, light, background and all the components which come together in creating an outstanding image.
Some of Brandenburg’s photo books. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
Every photographer understands that light is the very basic element to consider in shooting photos. Brandenburg challenged himself to take a single picture per day between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice. The result is his collection of photos, Chased by the Light: A 90-Day Journey, a favorite of mine among his books.
Beautiful natural scenery on the prairie near Blue Mounds State Park. The part of the prairie where I grew up is not rocky like this and is a bit further north. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
When I traveled to Luverne in 2013 to visit the Brandenburg Gallery and other attractions, including Blue Mounds State Park, I was returning to the wide open land and big skies of the prairie, the place that shaped me as a person, photographer and writer. The same can be said for Brandenburg. He loved the prairie and, in fact, established the Brandenburg Prairie Foundation aimed at southwest Minnesota native prairie education, preservation and expansion. His organization partnered with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to purchase nearly 1,000 acres of untilled Rock County prairie, creating Touch the Sky Northern Tallgrass Prairie National Wildlife Refuge.
Those environmental efforts are revealing. Brandenburg cared deeply about the land, especially the prairie. After college, he returned to the prairie and worked as a picture editor at The Worthington Daily Globe. While there, he freelanced for National Geographic Magazine. And so his career developed until he became that homegrown photographer whose work so many worldwide grew to appreciate and love.
Wolf photos displayed in the Brandenberg Gallery. Brandenburg’s published books include Brother Wolf–A Forgotten Promise. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
I admire photographers who excel in the craft. And Brandenburg certainly excels in wildlife photography, a specialized field that requires much more than understanding photo basics. Photographing wildlife requires incredible patience and knowledge of animals. I have neither. But when you look at a Brandenburg photo, it’s like you are right there up close with the subject. Perhaps a wolf—one of his favorite subjects. Or bison. You can see the deep respect Brandenburg holds for these creatures of the wild.
A familiar scene to me, autumn leaves photographed in the Big Woods of Minnesota, within 20 miles of my home and showcased in the Brandenburg Gallery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
And then there’s landscape photography which, when done well, draws you into a scene and evokes an emotional response. Again, Brandenburg has this seemingly effortless ability to capture the essence of a place and connect it to his audience.
Minnesota has lost an incredibly gifted photographer. But Brandenburg’s legacy lives on in his work, a gift to all of us. And one place to find that is in the Brandenburg Gallery in Luverne. On my beloved prairie. On Brandenburg’s beloved prairie.
FYI: The Brandenburg Gallery, 213 E. Luverne St., is owned and operated by the Luverne Area Chamber of Commerce. It’s open from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday and from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday. Admission is free. All photos featured in this post were taken with permission of the Brandenburg Gallery in 2013.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
A Banned Books Week commentary on free speech October 10, 2025
Tags: 1984, America, American Library Association, Banned Books Week, books, Books on Central, Buckham Memorial Library, censorship, commentary, freedom of speech, George Orwell, libraries, opinion, reading, Right to Read
AS A WRITER, journalist and avid reader, I’m a firm believer in free speech. Never have I seen that right more threatened in America than it is today. It’s downright scary—efforts by the federal government to suppress voices (already occurring), promises of retribution (now being carried out), abuse of power (happening on so many levels) and much more that threatens our very freedoms, our democracy. I could go on and on.
But today I want to focus on Banned Books Week, which ends tomorrow. Thursday evening I gathered with a group of volunteers for an appreciation event at Books on Central in Faribault, a used bookshop founded by the Rice County Area United Way. While I don’t volunteer there (yet), I’ve blogged about the bookstore numerous times because I love books and I love that monies from BOC book sales help nonprofits in my area. We weren’t there to discuss banned books, though, but rather to celebrate volunteerism and this small bookshop which has become much-beloved by the Faribault community and beyond.
It was not lost on me as I sat there surrounded by books, listening to volunteers share their passion for this place and for books, that everyone who walks in the door is surrounded by choices. As it should be. Choose what you want to read or want to share with others.
Yet, there are individuals, organizations, elected government officials and others who want to determine what we can read by banning books from libraries, schools and elsewhere. That, my friends, is censorship. And I’m not OK with that. If I find the content of a book to be offensive, then I can stop reading it or never open it in the first place. Likewise parents can monitor their child’s reading materials just as they would online content.
In the words of the American Library Association’s 2025 Banned Books Week theme, “CENSORSHIP is so 1984.” That’s a reference to George Orwell’s prophetic 1949 novel, 1984, about a totalitarian government. That’s a simplistic summary. But the book is particularly relevant to today. I intend to check it out from my library to reread.
After the bookshop appreciation event Thursday evening, I stopped at Buckham Memorial Library to see if staff had created a Banned Books display as they have in the past. They did. After I read the information and looked at a sampling of books that have been banned (not from my library), I grabbed a green bracelet imprinted with this message: CENSORSHIP is so 1984. READ FOR YOUR RIGHTS.
I will continue to read. I will continue to write. And I will continue to embrace, support and advocate for free speech. I have a voice. I refuse to be silenced.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling