It’s a book club, but no one’s got the latest bestseller here. At Motheread, the path to parent and child bonding starts with . . . : A Good Read

“ ‘!Caramba!’ grito la mama osa,” squeals a young mother, her eyes saucer-wide. Adding a shiver of trepidation to a thin and reedy voice, she attempts to convey the mama bear’s fury. But a modest giggle escapes--a quick gush of steam--giving the lie to her fear.

Laughter comes not from a circle of children, sitting legs crossed beneath them, but from a gathering of a dozen mothers--some first-timers, some veterans--who meet once a week at Pacoima Elementary School, their legs pressed beneath low wooden tables, their noses stuck in shared copies of James Marshall’s picture-book version of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

This is Motheread, a reading group of a different stripe. You won’t spot the new Pat Conroy or John Saul on its list of recommended titles, but you’re liable to find the participants just as engaged or opinionated about character motivations and plot development, story structure or the premise’s ultimate believability.

Not a literacy workshop focusing on rudiments of language and usage, Motheread is a bilingual, intergenerational reading program stressing execution and dramatic delivery. What began as a project to help incarcerated mothers build nurturing relationships with their children has since expanded to serve the general population. And as families become prisoners of their own routines--packed-tight schedules, second jobs and generation gaps that yawn into chasms impossible to measure--the program provides at least one reliable tool to chip away at the walls that have grown up around parent and child.

These sessions provide far more than reading skills. They construct, where at times there was none, a foundation for better communication. The goal is to build not just reading prowess, but better parenting skills.

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Founded in North Carolina by Nancye Gaj in 1987, Motheread made its trek to the West Coast in 1992.

“The California Council for the Humanities wanted in some way to participate after the civil unrest,” explains Khisna Griffin, who has been Motheread’s L.A. coordinator since 1993. “They wanted some vehicle that would serve the areas that were most dramatically affected. And they were concerned that CCH didn’t reach certain parts of the city like South-Central or certain areas in the Valley with their usual offerings--film and discussion groups.”

In its North Carolina incarnation, imprisoned mothers met in groups to read to each other and their offspring. They wrote and recorded their own stories so the children could return home with a small souvenir of their time together.

The California offshoot uses a similar framework, but aims to help working mothers and fathers to better structure their stray hours of quality time. With a target group between the ages of 2 and 11, the program grooms group leaders, who in turn groom mothers, who in turn groom their children.

“We train the parent-educator,” says Griffin, who works on a budget of $120,000 (which includes the cost of books, salaries and orientation sessions). “The goal is to understand the importance of quiet time, reading time, turning the TV off--not just tell them to do it, but to tell them how .”

Parents connect with Motheread through Los Angeles County-based social service agencies that provide parenting programs, including Watts Counseling & Learning Center, El Nido Family Centers, Kaiser Permanente’s Educational Outreach in Baldwin Park, Good Beginnings and the Junior League of Pasadena.

El Nido Family Centers was the first pilot partner, and has been the most successful in lining up curious mothers and group leaders. Motheread provided an essential second step for mothers completing parenting classes who felt they were just getting warmed up.

“They would have so many enthusiastic people, so they didn’t want to turn them away if they wanted more. Motheread wasn’t a Part Two, but a way to keep the group together,” Griffin says.

Sponsored by the CCH, Motheread also receives support from the Norton Family Fund, Weingart Foundation, Ralph M. Parsons and California Community Foundation, among others. And with a schedule of classes that run for 10 weeks, in 1 1/2- to two-hour sessions, Griffin has been able to set up a geographically ambitious program staffed by one full-timer (herself), with 17 active group leaders who travel the region.

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The goal is clear cut. Through underscoring the power in the simple act of sharing words and reveling in the closeness that comes with quietude, Motheread group leaders spend a good portion of their sessions teaching a parent just that--how to parent. How to make the most of small portions of time they have together at the end or beginning of a day.

With a book list that contains nearly 100 titles--all multicultural, all widely available--the emphasis here is on moving the story beyond the page, bringing the two-dimensional not simply to life but to have the world of the story fully occupy the room. Creating a world that the child and parent can explore together.

“They learn about voice, inflection. When you are reading the part of a monster, make yourself look like a monster. Growl. But,” cautions Griffin with a laugh, “don’t scare the child.”

Griffin says she’s encountered many a parent who admits that they’ve tried and failed to coerce their children into a little after-dinner bonding. Some run for cover, others try their little hands at tantrums. And one might understand why, after hearing the way some parents approach a story, “the way they hurry through them,” Griffin has noted.

Last year, Yvonne Banks, who has a preschool-age son, picked Motheread out of the usual selections of CPR and arts and crafts courses.

“My little boy always liked reading. He really enjoyed the books when I brought them home. He would get one, and start reading,” Banks says. “It would be upside down, but he’d still be ‘reading.’ ”

But belting out the dramatic delivery was Banks’ strength.

“They told us to make our voices sound like the character. That if you put the drama in it the child will go “Wooo. . . .’ ”

And for her efforts and perfect attendance, she carted home a copy of “The Patchwork Quilt.”

“It was about a family who took care of a grandmother who was making a quilt. When she got sick, the family finished it,” Banks remembers. “I liked that book because it showed how black folks can work together.”

Yolonda Williams says members of her Motheread/Fatheread group were a little confused at first, wondering why the leader wasn’t going over the basics--”ABCs and 1, 2, 3. . . .”

“They told us that they were stressing building the children’s social skills,” says Williams, who remained wary until she noted a difference in her son’s behavior.

“I was amazed at what they had done for him. Robert, being an only child, was selfish. He wasn’t really able to share and get along. But now he shares more,” says Williams, who isn’t quite chalking it up as a miracle. “He’s still a little selfish, but he’s now at least a lot more sensitive. They really built him up.”

Reading beyond the words--the illustrations, the inferences--is like coloring out of the lines: sometimes taboo, frowned upon, but potentially rich creative rewards, such as involving the child in the story beyond the barriers of the paragraph.

“Ask what would you do? Would you be friends with a monster?” Griffin urges.

For a book like “Where the Wild Things Are,” she suggests that a parent may want to construct a paper plate mask. But playing a game of free-association could take the story to another level, as monsters come in various guises--symbols of fears or metaphors for otherwise difficult to articulate or impossible to surmount family issues.

Certain themes crop up much more than others. And that, Griffin assures, is no coincidence.

“Human issues. Sharing, establishing independence, understanding family traditions, nurturing, inner strength, unconditional love, grief, sibling rivalry. Anything that people in general deal with in their course of life,” Griffin says.

And like any program seeking long-range success, Motheread offers a practical set of tools to gently reshape a family’s lifestyle, embroidering reading and all that goes along with it into a weekly routine--library visits to familiarize mother and child with its holdings are one example.

“It gets them in the habit of borrowing,” Griffin says. “For example, a lot of recent immigrants don’t know what the neighborhood libraries have to offer. We get the librarians to open up early and give them an orientation.”

Griffin finds herself at times checking her own evangelism. But Motheread works, not just with children but with parents, bolstering self-esteem and understanding their self-worth. It has involved parents in existing parenting programs, while providing the impetus for them to form their own. They take a more active role in their children’s education, talking to teachers, becoming a familiar presence on campus. For others it has helped build enough self-confidence to enter the job force for the first time.

“I wish I could hug everybody, because I can feel the souls. I can see they are beautiful,” says Aracelly Godinez, a parent educator with El Nido who has been a group leader for two years. “I get a lot out of it. Seeing the mothers making changes. Some now working with children themselves. Mothers telling me that, ‘Before I came to these meetings I didn’t value myself, and now I value myself, I do love myself. And I do better for my children.’ ”

With classes in Pomona, Baldwin Park, Lincoln Heights, Watts, Inglewood, San Gabriel Valley, Van Nuys and Pasadena, Griffin has to be careful not to spread herself and her group leaders too thin.

“We’re limiting ourselves. I’m one person so, for my own sanity, we’re not really branching out further yet.” Their rate and breadth of growth depends mightily on the availability of funds from National Endowment for the Humanities, which has matched their collective donations.

In the meantime, with a training session for new leaders slated for later this month, and 13 more new members part of the team since March, Griffin ponders a way to broaden the target-group.

When parents call looking to enroll their children, Griffin must refer them to one of the partner agencies to find out if they qualify.

“Currently the classes are serving low-income, single-parent homes,” she says. “But I don’t want it to be seen as simply a minority thing, ‘cause I know some kids in Palisades don’t know how to read. They spend their hours with Nintendo and nanny.”

Motheread, Griffin says, “is for whoever is playing the parent role,” building on a long-enduring ritual.

“It’s being close and sitting in a comfortable place with someone you love.”