How To Do Nothing With Nobody All Alone By Yourself

New York Times Best-seller

How to Do Nothing literally tells “how to do nothing with nobody all alone by yourself”—real things, fascinating things, the things that you did when you were a kid, or your parents did when they were kids. This is a book to free your kid from video games for a few hours, a handbook on the avoidance of boredom, a primer on the uses of solitude, a child’s declaration of independence.

If you don’t remember how to make a spool tank, what to do with an old umbrella, whether “pennies” come before or after “spank the baby” in mumbly-peg, or how to make rubber-band guns, slings, or clamshell bracelets, it’s OK because Robert Paul Smith has collected all of this and more in How to Do Nothing. It’s a book for kids, but parents are not prohibited from reading it.

The Mitochondrial Curiosities of Marcels 1 to 19

Her hands lay inert and upturned on her lap – probably stunned, she thinks, by the hideousness of the skirt underneath them. Centre seam puckered, zipper mangled, it’s handmade in a way that makes people say, ‘Did you sew that yourself?’ when they mean, ‘How can you wear that thing?’ But she made it the day after he died, and she talked to him in her head the whole time. Which is why it looks like hell and why she had to wear it anyway.

Biology is not Dree’s thing. Equally heinous are English, Social Studies, her sister and mother, not to mention Edmonton in general. Toronto is where she belongs — specifically the upcoming Renegade Craft Fair.

Mercifully, escape is imminent: on her fifteenth birthday, she will get the special fund her father promised, and the day after that, she’ll be on WestJet Flight 233 to Toronto. Instead, her dad has a fatal heart attack, and all she finds are clues leading to the ominous Alberta Psychiatric Hospital where her parents once worked.

Along the way: two fires, a family scandal, nineteen sassy sock creatures named Marcel, a new friend, a mystery, a stepmother who’s maybe sympathetic after all, the unceasing misery of school and the search for a proper way to grieve a father.