Imagine yourself stepping into a strange magical world of parallel realities, fire demons, curses, and wizards and you will experience the startling journey taken by Sophie Hatter in Diane Wynne Jones’ Howl’s Moving Castle. Jones spins the fantastical tale of a young woman who is taken away from her monotonous existence and thrust into a world a foreign world in which she must learn who she really is. In her day-to-day life, Sophie is the eldest of three daughters and is therefore out of luck. Because of her unfortunate position, she has no delusions about what her life will amount to for, as everyone knows, as the eldest of three “you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortune” (1). Because of this, Sophie accepts her family’s expectations that she will work as an apprentice in her late father’s hat shop while her sisters seek better fortunes for themselves.
Sophie settles in to her new duties until one fateful day. On that portentous day, the feared Witch of the Waste enters her shop and with a burst of misplaced jealousy and anger curses Sophie; no longer a plain young woman, Sophie becomes a plain old woman. Resigned to her fate—a fate that mirrors her expected lack of fortune—Sophie leaves her home town of Market Chipping in search of a new life. On her way she comes upon the feared Moving Castle that belongs to the mysterious Wizard Howl—a magical man accused of eating the heart’s of young and beautiful women. Instead of the cruel wizard she expected to find in Howl, she discovers a vain, shallow, and lazy man who uses his charm to capture the hearts of women before he dumps them. Together with Howl’s apprentice Michael, Calcifer the fire demon, and the magical castle, Sophie works to find all that has gone missing in the kingdoms around her: a prince, a wizard, and a heart, all while defeating the Witch of the Waste once and for all.
Jones creates a world that is magical and accessible to readers; a parallel world to our own. She sets this up in the beginning of her novel by disclaiming readers of the wonder found within the land of Ingary, a place “where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist” (1). In this magical place, fisherman can buy potions to ensure that they have a fair wind and a safe journey and the royal family keeps their own royal wizard. The world is put in contrast to our own and, in fact, Howl himself is from our own world; he is a man who has unlocked the secrets of magic, enabling him to travel between our two worlds.
Sophie herself is an engaging character who learns her own throughout the course of the book. At the beginning of the novel she is a quiet, unassuming figure who works dutifully in her family’s hat shop; she spends most of her time talking to the hats she created. Strangely, it is through her transformation into an old woman that she comes into her own; suddenly, she is unafraid to speak her mind and take action where she sees fit. Sophie also discovers her own magical power; “It brings life to things, such as that stick in your hand, which you have evidently talked to, to the extent that is has become what the layman would call a magic wand” (181). In fact, every inanimate object that Sophie talks to does her bidding—to a hat she says, “You have a heart of gold and someone in a high position will see it and fall in love with you,” when the hat is purchased by plain Jane Farrier the dashing Count of Catterack instantly falls in love with her (10). Sophie eventually realizes her own strength and self-worth, breaking her curse in the process.
Jones is able to create a world full of characters who have characteristics common to all people. Because of these carefully crafted elements of the story, readers are able to connect to the story in a way that pulls them into the text. The dynamic qualities of every aspect of the novel make it a treasure to read and uncover; for, in a parallel world where anything can and does happen, who wouldn’t want to be the average girl to put the heart back into a handsome Casanova, capturing his heart as your own in the process?
Monday, December 7, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
CI 5442: Graphic Novel Response #2
Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel Maus fascinated me. While I have had experience with Holocaust survival stories before, the use of the graphic novel format and the cleverly chosen personification of the mice, cats, and pigs as central characters within the story was an interesting addition to the story. Spiegelman was able to take a known story and make it new. I quickly read through the story and was highly engaged by the text and images.
I thought that Spiegelman’s presentation of the text was very well done. Spiegelman makes the story seem more believable and creditable by placing himself and his father in the text as they interact with one another through both the retelling of his father’s story and their relationships with each other in the present. By transitioning back and forth between the retelling of his father’s life during the years preceding and during the onset of WWII he is able to illustrate how surviving the war has shaped his father and to show the strains of those effects on both their lives. The opening images of Spiegelman crying home to his father about his friends was particularly interesting. He says, “Friends? Yours Friends? If you lock them together in a room with no food for a week….then you could see what is it, friends!” (6). Later in the text, Spiegelman tries to justify his father’s pack-rat tendencies by pointing out that the need to horde might be a result of his past experiences. I think this is an interesting point to note from his life and it helped to take the story farther—from just the story of his survival to the story of his life long after his trials ended.
I am glad that the story started before the beginning of the war with the relationship between Spiegelman’s mother and father. During the years that they were courting, the National Socialist Party was gaining power and taking control of Germany. It was interesting to read about the day-to-day life in Poland and the “rumors” they heard about the Germans. For them the Nazi’s were a piece of the background in Europe and they had no idea what consequences were about to come their way.
I thought Spiegelman Sr.’s account of life in Poland during the beginning years of the war was incredibly insightful. He really captured the complexity of the individuals around him. I thought it said a lot about human nature to note how people reacted during the war. Come people were willing to illegally harbor runaway Jews, others were more than willing to rat each other out—both Polish and Jewish citizens alike. I think people show their true colors in desperate situations and it was amazing to see how selfish or selfless people became within the book. Reading how people changed—for example, the maid who was once a part of the Spiegelman family—it made me think about how I would react to being put in the different situations presented in the book. I would like to think that I would be able to do the right thing, no matter what, but the story definitely makes you give it a serious thought.
I think the presentation of the book and the story within it can help make the tragedy of the Holocaust more engaging for anyone who reads it. I enjoyed puzzling out my own interpretation of why Spiegelman chose to use animals within the story. The illustrations add so much to the story. It’s amazing how the detailed illustrations are able to capture the emotions of the characters within the story; the black and white presentation adds to the tragic circumstances of the characters and makes their plight that much more serious. Through the images I was able to read the expressions of the character’s faces the same way I read both the dialogue and text boxes within the frames themselves. I doing this I was able to have a better understanding of how Spiegelman Sr.’s life in Poland. Overall, I love how the book is able to take a serious part of our past and present it in a way that is informative, engaging, and moving despite its use of illustrations.
I thought that Spiegelman’s presentation of the text was very well done. Spiegelman makes the story seem more believable and creditable by placing himself and his father in the text as they interact with one another through both the retelling of his father’s story and their relationships with each other in the present. By transitioning back and forth between the retelling of his father’s life during the years preceding and during the onset of WWII he is able to illustrate how surviving the war has shaped his father and to show the strains of those effects on both their lives. The opening images of Spiegelman crying home to his father about his friends was particularly interesting. He says, “Friends? Yours Friends? If you lock them together in a room with no food for a week….then you could see what is it, friends!” (6). Later in the text, Spiegelman tries to justify his father’s pack-rat tendencies by pointing out that the need to horde might be a result of his past experiences. I think this is an interesting point to note from his life and it helped to take the story farther—from just the story of his survival to the story of his life long after his trials ended.
I am glad that the story started before the beginning of the war with the relationship between Spiegelman’s mother and father. During the years that they were courting, the National Socialist Party was gaining power and taking control of Germany. It was interesting to read about the day-to-day life in Poland and the “rumors” they heard about the Germans. For them the Nazi’s were a piece of the background in Europe and they had no idea what consequences were about to come their way.
I thought Spiegelman Sr.’s account of life in Poland during the beginning years of the war was incredibly insightful. He really captured the complexity of the individuals around him. I thought it said a lot about human nature to note how people reacted during the war. Come people were willing to illegally harbor runaway Jews, others were more than willing to rat each other out—both Polish and Jewish citizens alike. I think people show their true colors in desperate situations and it was amazing to see how selfish or selfless people became within the book. Reading how people changed—for example, the maid who was once a part of the Spiegelman family—it made me think about how I would react to being put in the different situations presented in the book. I would like to think that I would be able to do the right thing, no matter what, but the story definitely makes you give it a serious thought.
I think the presentation of the book and the story within it can help make the tragedy of the Holocaust more engaging for anyone who reads it. I enjoyed puzzling out my own interpretation of why Spiegelman chose to use animals within the story. The illustrations add so much to the story. It’s amazing how the detailed illustrations are able to capture the emotions of the characters within the story; the black and white presentation adds to the tragic circumstances of the characters and makes their plight that much more serious. Through the images I was able to read the expressions of the character’s faces the same way I read both the dialogue and text boxes within the frames themselves. I doing this I was able to have a better understanding of how Spiegelman Sr.’s life in Poland. Overall, I love how the book is able to take a serious part of our past and present it in a way that is informative, engaging, and moving despite its use of illustrations.
CI 5442: Graphic Novel Response #1
I found Gene Luen Yang’s graphic novel American Born Chinese to be an extremely quick, insightful, and entertaining book to read. I love that he was able to capture so much of the Chinese American experience and relate it in a new way. Yang was able to take the story of a young boy as he matures to adolescents and, without taking away from the uniqueness of Jin Wang’s experience, is able to connect or relate it to the experience of the average American student who only wants to fit in. I thought Yang did a brilliant job of illustrating this point at the end of the book when all three stories come together. At first I was a bit confused by the three different stories going on within the book but when they came together I found myself going back and reading the novel again with a different frame of mind. Reading the book this second time, opened my eyes up to the different connections between the stories and allowed me to examine how they fit together even more.
At the beginning at the book, the Monkey King is ridiculed by the gods, goddesses, demons, and spirits. His attempt to fit in is a complete failure and it leaves him anguishing in self-consciousness. The next story, of Jin Wang, tells the old woman at the herbalist that he wants to be a Transformer when he grows up. She tells him to be careful what he wishes for because, “It’s easy to become anything you wish…so long as you’re willing to forfeit your soul” (29). This message stuck with me when I read the book through the first time; this message sets-up the entire story and offers a life lesson that all readers can take away from the book.
Okay, I have to comment on Chin-Kee—the epitome of negative Chinese stereotypes. I will admit that I found him to be part incredibly insensitive and offensive but also part hilarious. I think the extreme to which Yang made this character makes it hard not to laugh at to some degree. At the end, when the reader watches as Danny fights with Chin-Kee—who turns out to be the Monkey King and father of Danny/Jin’s former friend Wei-Chen—and the truth comes out, I found myself understanding Chin-Kee’s presence in the book as well as feeling a trifle sorry for my enjoyment in that character.
As a former high school student myself who tried to be somewhat invisible in school—to blend in enough that no one could take serious note of who I was—I commiserated with Jin/Danny as they struggled to find that piece of high school existence for themselves. Thinking of the transformer dream, I thought it was interesting to watch Jin try s hard to be normal, catch the attention of Amelia, and reject the aspects of his identity that made him different from his peers. He changes the food he eats, he changes his hairstyle, and he tries to behave as typical American teenagers do.
The final section of the book in which all the stories come together was great. My confusion disappeared and I thought it was really powerful to see how Jin’s actions affected his friend Wei-Chen. Even without the mystical element of the Monkey King and the spirits, Jin’s story reflects the ramifications of our actions and the butterfly effect they can have on the people around us. Jin takes his anger from Timmy’s ill-treatment of him out on his best friend who in turn takes that pain to heart and changes himself to completely reject what he grew up believing. In the end, Chin-Kee/Monkey King is able to put this into perspective for Jin and pull him out of his false identity—his transformation into Danny.
The illustrations within the book are also an amazing and imperative piece of the story. Yang brilliantly illustrates the text which, again, is just as important as the text itself. It is easy to read the words and read the illustration as well. The illustrations help readers to see what is going on inside of the characters’ minds and how they react to each situation they face. Each illustration adds an essential piece to the story and I loved being able to watch the characters as I read their stories.
At the beginning at the book, the Monkey King is ridiculed by the gods, goddesses, demons, and spirits. His attempt to fit in is a complete failure and it leaves him anguishing in self-consciousness. The next story, of Jin Wang, tells the old woman at the herbalist that he wants to be a Transformer when he grows up. She tells him to be careful what he wishes for because, “It’s easy to become anything you wish…so long as you’re willing to forfeit your soul” (29). This message stuck with me when I read the book through the first time; this message sets-up the entire story and offers a life lesson that all readers can take away from the book.
Okay, I have to comment on Chin-Kee—the epitome of negative Chinese stereotypes. I will admit that I found him to be part incredibly insensitive and offensive but also part hilarious. I think the extreme to which Yang made this character makes it hard not to laugh at to some degree. At the end, when the reader watches as Danny fights with Chin-Kee—who turns out to be the Monkey King and father of Danny/Jin’s former friend Wei-Chen—and the truth comes out, I found myself understanding Chin-Kee’s presence in the book as well as feeling a trifle sorry for my enjoyment in that character.
As a former high school student myself who tried to be somewhat invisible in school—to blend in enough that no one could take serious note of who I was—I commiserated with Jin/Danny as they struggled to find that piece of high school existence for themselves. Thinking of the transformer dream, I thought it was interesting to watch Jin try s hard to be normal, catch the attention of Amelia, and reject the aspects of his identity that made him different from his peers. He changes the food he eats, he changes his hairstyle, and he tries to behave as typical American teenagers do.
The final section of the book in which all the stories come together was great. My confusion disappeared and I thought it was really powerful to see how Jin’s actions affected his friend Wei-Chen. Even without the mystical element of the Monkey King and the spirits, Jin’s story reflects the ramifications of our actions and the butterfly effect they can have on the people around us. Jin takes his anger from Timmy’s ill-treatment of him out on his best friend who in turn takes that pain to heart and changes himself to completely reject what he grew up believing. In the end, Chin-Kee/Monkey King is able to put this into perspective for Jin and pull him out of his false identity—his transformation into Danny.
The illustrations within the book are also an amazing and imperative piece of the story. Yang brilliantly illustrates the text which, again, is just as important as the text itself. It is easy to read the words and read the illustration as well. The illustrations help readers to see what is going on inside of the characters’ minds and how they react to each situation they face. Each illustration adds an essential piece to the story and I loved being able to watch the characters as I read their stories.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
CI 5442: Multicultural Response
Julie Anne Peters’ novel Luna completely blew me away! I was curious to see how she would broach such a controversial topic with both sensitivity and insight and she exceeded my expectations. The book not only allowed readers to see a transgender teenager for who she really was but also to sympathize with the difficulties such a young person would—and do—face. I thought the entire novel was well written and if it helped me to understand the trials of being a transgender individual, then I think it could help others do the same.
I thought Peters’ choice of narrator for Luna was the perfect fit. Regan is the sole confidant for Liam (aka, Luna). She does the best she can to protect her sister and works hard to ensure that she is safe both at home and out in public. The secret creates a very special bond between them. By using Regan as the narrator, Peters is not trying to understand the emotions of someone who feels they were given the wrong body; instead, she is presenting the struggles through the eyes of a caring and understanding relation. Another important aspect in creating this narrator is the ability to illustrate the effects Liam’s transgender beliefs on family and friends in a more explicit way.
Both Liam and Regan have their own struggles in life. Liam is living a lie and Regan is not even really living. Each of them is hiding who they really are and neither of them believes that they are worth much in the world. Liam is Luna’s “Boy role” (6) and Regan has an “invisibility shield” (25) that she employs. Regan notes, “We were both disembodied hollows” (25). The difference between them is that Liam is willing to put Luna out there and Regan is forcibly dragged out into the real world. Fortunately, both of them find someone who is able to coax them forward and help them with the transition from their hidden lives—Teri Lynn and Chris.
Teri Lynn is the inspiration and motivating force for Liam to become Luna permanently to all those around her. The pain this causes Luna and Regan is immense. Luna struggles with ridicule and disgust from those around her while Regan must deal with both the reactions of others and the strain those reactions place on her life as well as her sisters. She has to deal with the embarrassment and uncertainty of how others will treat her because of Luna. I thought it was great to see the excitement and transformation of Luna after finding and communicating with Teri Lynn. It only serves to emphasize the importance of community and belonging; once Luna has someone with whom she can belong, her life opens up and she is confident enough to announce herself to the world.
Chris was perhaps my favorite character in the novel--Luna and Regan were great but Chris was hilarious. He was sincere and charmingly clumsy. I was nervous that he would end up hurting Regan in some way, but I was relieved when he ended up being someone that Regan could trust and turn to. Although she doesn’t feel comfortable with him or talking to him about the tangled circumstances of her life, he teaches her to put down her invisibility shield and branch out. Together they are an awkward mess, but somehow they work things out. The two of them had me laughing out loud throughout the entire book and I could sympathize with their teenage behavior.
The most fascinating part of the story was the tenuous yet indestructible relationship between Luna and Regan. Regan both loves and loathes her brother in a typical teenage angst-filled passion. Regan claims, “It’s always about my brother. My brother was a black hole in my universe. He was sucking the life right out of me” (117). A short time later, she remembers that he saved her from being abducted by a stranger, “Liam’s so needy now, I thought, I’m forgetting all the times I needed him. He’s always been there for me. Always” (128). She feels used and then she feels it is her duty to protect Luna; she can’t bear to be around him and face the humiliation of coming out, and she can’t imagine him leaving her. In the end, both of them want to be accepted for who they are—idealized versions they see in each other. Luna tells Regan, “Don’t you know, you’re the girl I always wanted to be” (246) right before she leaves for Seattle. In doing this—striking out into the real world—Luna is opening up both of their worlds; “All at once the weight of the world dissolved and I felt myself expand, grow. The same way Luna must feel to be free, I realized. She’d freed us both” (248).
The book was entertaining, emotional, heartbreaking, hopeful, and enlightening all at the same time. Peters is able to take a difficult topic and make it accessible for readers. I knew very little about this topic and I have been in a difficult situation with a group of people who weren’t able to empathize with transgender individuals. I think this book is a great way to provide readers with insight into a different personal lifestyle and to help them sympathize with the characters. I also think this book would be a great resource for readers who are transgender themselves—just as Teri Lynn helped Luna be comfortable with who she was, I think this book could help others accept and respond confidently to their own feelings. I loved this book—couldn’t put it down—and I would recommend it to anyone.
I thought Peters’ choice of narrator for Luna was the perfect fit. Regan is the sole confidant for Liam (aka, Luna). She does the best she can to protect her sister and works hard to ensure that she is safe both at home and out in public. The secret creates a very special bond between them. By using Regan as the narrator, Peters is not trying to understand the emotions of someone who feels they were given the wrong body; instead, she is presenting the struggles through the eyes of a caring and understanding relation. Another important aspect in creating this narrator is the ability to illustrate the effects Liam’s transgender beliefs on family and friends in a more explicit way.
Both Liam and Regan have their own struggles in life. Liam is living a lie and Regan is not even really living. Each of them is hiding who they really are and neither of them believes that they are worth much in the world. Liam is Luna’s “Boy role” (6) and Regan has an “invisibility shield” (25) that she employs. Regan notes, “We were both disembodied hollows” (25). The difference between them is that Liam is willing to put Luna out there and Regan is forcibly dragged out into the real world. Fortunately, both of them find someone who is able to coax them forward and help them with the transition from their hidden lives—Teri Lynn and Chris.
Teri Lynn is the inspiration and motivating force for Liam to become Luna permanently to all those around her. The pain this causes Luna and Regan is immense. Luna struggles with ridicule and disgust from those around her while Regan must deal with both the reactions of others and the strain those reactions place on her life as well as her sisters. She has to deal with the embarrassment and uncertainty of how others will treat her because of Luna. I thought it was great to see the excitement and transformation of Luna after finding and communicating with Teri Lynn. It only serves to emphasize the importance of community and belonging; once Luna has someone with whom she can belong, her life opens up and she is confident enough to announce herself to the world.
Chris was perhaps my favorite character in the novel--Luna and Regan were great but Chris was hilarious. He was sincere and charmingly clumsy. I was nervous that he would end up hurting Regan in some way, but I was relieved when he ended up being someone that Regan could trust and turn to. Although she doesn’t feel comfortable with him or talking to him about the tangled circumstances of her life, he teaches her to put down her invisibility shield and branch out. Together they are an awkward mess, but somehow they work things out. The two of them had me laughing out loud throughout the entire book and I could sympathize with their teenage behavior.
The most fascinating part of the story was the tenuous yet indestructible relationship between Luna and Regan. Regan both loves and loathes her brother in a typical teenage angst-filled passion. Regan claims, “It’s always about my brother. My brother was a black hole in my universe. He was sucking the life right out of me” (117). A short time later, she remembers that he saved her from being abducted by a stranger, “Liam’s so needy now, I thought, I’m forgetting all the times I needed him. He’s always been there for me. Always” (128). She feels used and then she feels it is her duty to protect Luna; she can’t bear to be around him and face the humiliation of coming out, and she can’t imagine him leaving her. In the end, both of them want to be accepted for who they are—idealized versions they see in each other. Luna tells Regan, “Don’t you know, you’re the girl I always wanted to be” (246) right before she leaves for Seattle. In doing this—striking out into the real world—Luna is opening up both of their worlds; “All at once the weight of the world dissolved and I felt myself expand, grow. The same way Luna must feel to be free, I realized. She’d freed us both” (248).
The book was entertaining, emotional, heartbreaking, hopeful, and enlightening all at the same time. Peters is able to take a difficult topic and make it accessible for readers. I knew very little about this topic and I have been in a difficult situation with a group of people who weren’t able to empathize with transgender individuals. I think this book is a great way to provide readers with insight into a different personal lifestyle and to help them sympathize with the characters. I also think this book would be a great resource for readers who are transgender themselves—just as Teri Lynn helped Luna be comfortable with who she was, I think this book could help others accept and respond confidently to their own feelings. I loved this book—couldn’t put it down—and I would recommend it to anyone.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
CI 5442: Biography/Memoir Response #2
I was hesitant as to what I would encounter while reading Ishmael Beah’s memoir A Long Way Gone but despite the horrific and tragic circumstances of Beah’s life growing up within a war torn Sierra Leone, in the end he proves that it is possible to overcome the past and look to the future. The book takes readers through Beah’s experiences; we see evidence of his troubled yet happy life with his brother and friends, the terrifying travels of his band of boys, the initiation into the life of a boy soldier, the violent and conscious-less life of a soldier, the jerk back to boyhood, and the final struggle to leave all the past behind in order to reach a brighter future. These different existences combine into Beah’s present; “These days I live in three worlds: my dreams, and the experiences of my new life, which trigger memories from the past” (20).
Throughout the book I followed the theme of family and belonging, as it played such an important part in the actions and events within the story. Beah is driven in the beginning of the book by his desire to find his family and creates a temporary family with his brother and his friends. When he is separated from them, the loneliness is difficult for him to bear but he soon joins another group of boys—boys who become his family and the members of his unit once he joins with the army forces. After he is pulled away from active duty, Beah is forced to adjust his family to meet his new circumstances. His past catches up with him and he laments his lack of true family; “I feel as if there is nothing left for me to live for….I have no family, it is just me. No one will be able to tell stories about my childhood” (167). He finds new family in Esther and is reunited with a long lost uncle who brings him into his makeshift family; suddenly, he has a new family and more stable existence and even though this existence is shattered again, Beah keeps moving forward in search of a more hopeful existence with families to come.
The hope that pushes Beah on during the longs months wandering the forest, the time spent as a soldier, and the months after his rehabilitation illustrate how it is that hope can be both inspiring and beautiful or driving and twisted. It is the hope in finding his family that inspires Beah to keep surviving in his never ending search for safety and news about his family, but it is also hope that motivates him to kill the rebels—the hope for successfully finding and meting out revenge. The different effects of hope mirror the ways in which it is used by Beah and the people around him. Beah uses hope to keep him moving forward while the army uses hope to twist the thoughts of their boy soldiers in looking to revenge the past. I was horrified at the seemingly easy task of the army to brainwash boys into fighting. When training the boys, they even cast the targets in ways that make the boys think only of what the rebels have cost them; “Over and over in our training he would say the same sentence: Visualize the enemy, the rebels who killed your parents, your family, and those who are responsible for everything that has happened to you” (112).
The hardest parts of the book for me to comprehend were the complete lawlessness of the soldiers. Based on the information within the book, it seems as though the rebel forces went from village to village terrorizing and murdering the people before forcing men and boys to join them. Later in the book, we see the army forces—with Beah—doing the same. Beah recounts how they entered a village occupied by rebels and killed all the rebels as well as anyone they saw. In the end they realize their mistake for killing every member of the village because there was no one to transport the supplies from the village to their base camp. It’s remarkable to think that given their circumstances and the intense need for revenge—on both sides of the fighting—that the soldiers on either side wouldn’t be able to see how they were perpetuating the violence done to innocent villagers, leading to more escapees being turned to one side or the other. It isn’t until long after his rehabilitation that Beah is able to see this for himself. He recounts the endless circumnavigation of the revenge cycle and the need for an end to such perpetuating violence and death.
Something that really stuck out to me in the book were the actions of the boys and the soldiers. Throughout the book Beah and his friends “high-five” one another for any success or happiness, as the story continues, so do the high-fives. Beah and his friends high-five when they find money to spend at a market to buy food, rebel soldiers high-five when they successfully destroy three villages in the course of several hours, and Beah and his unit high-five when they successfully take over a small village. The juvenile gesture that is used to illustrate a job well done and to create a sense of camaraderie is defiled by its use for such perverse actions. The high-fives administered by the soldiers only served to illustrate their youth or their view of the war as nothing more than a type of game. Every time a high-five appeared later in the text I would cringe from the context in which the celebratory mark was recognizing. The familiarity of the gesture brought its placement within the narrative that much more close to home for me. It was a relief toward the end of the book to see the high-five be once more associated boyhood as Mohamed is doing the “running man and singing ‘Here Comes the Hammer’” (170).
After his rehabilitation, I was amazed at Beah’s ability to regain a sense of clarity about his life and to come to terms with his past actions—at least to some degree. At first he is angry and defiant toward those trying to help him, but eventually he takes their words to heart when they say, “None of these things are your fault” (165). Once he internalizes this, he is able to see the past more clearly. His speech at the UN Economic and Social Council was incredibly intelligent and moving. It is in this speech that he tells how boys become seduced and forced to become soldiers due to, “starvation, the loss of our families, and the need to feel safe and be part of something when all else has broken down” (199). He later claims that his experiences have taught him the dangers of revenge and how it “will never come to an end” (199).
The end of the book was heartbreaking to me. After all Beah had been through, the war finds him again. He loses his uncle and is forced to flee Sierra Leone. It seems as though the world is set against him with every step he takes, but in the end I felt confident that he would rise to the challenge and find family again in better circumstances. I was pleased to read in his note at the end of the text that he was reunited with some of his friends and family and that he was able to start a new family with kind people in New York. I think Beah’s memoir is an eye-opening and stunning text everyone should read—it truly gets to the heart of what it means to be human.
Throughout the book I followed the theme of family and belonging, as it played such an important part in the actions and events within the story. Beah is driven in the beginning of the book by his desire to find his family and creates a temporary family with his brother and his friends. When he is separated from them, the loneliness is difficult for him to bear but he soon joins another group of boys—boys who become his family and the members of his unit once he joins with the army forces. After he is pulled away from active duty, Beah is forced to adjust his family to meet his new circumstances. His past catches up with him and he laments his lack of true family; “I feel as if there is nothing left for me to live for….I have no family, it is just me. No one will be able to tell stories about my childhood” (167). He finds new family in Esther and is reunited with a long lost uncle who brings him into his makeshift family; suddenly, he has a new family and more stable existence and even though this existence is shattered again, Beah keeps moving forward in search of a more hopeful existence with families to come.
The hope that pushes Beah on during the longs months wandering the forest, the time spent as a soldier, and the months after his rehabilitation illustrate how it is that hope can be both inspiring and beautiful or driving and twisted. It is the hope in finding his family that inspires Beah to keep surviving in his never ending search for safety and news about his family, but it is also hope that motivates him to kill the rebels—the hope for successfully finding and meting out revenge. The different effects of hope mirror the ways in which it is used by Beah and the people around him. Beah uses hope to keep him moving forward while the army uses hope to twist the thoughts of their boy soldiers in looking to revenge the past. I was horrified at the seemingly easy task of the army to brainwash boys into fighting. When training the boys, they even cast the targets in ways that make the boys think only of what the rebels have cost them; “Over and over in our training he would say the same sentence: Visualize the enemy, the rebels who killed your parents, your family, and those who are responsible for everything that has happened to you” (112).
The hardest parts of the book for me to comprehend were the complete lawlessness of the soldiers. Based on the information within the book, it seems as though the rebel forces went from village to village terrorizing and murdering the people before forcing men and boys to join them. Later in the book, we see the army forces—with Beah—doing the same. Beah recounts how they entered a village occupied by rebels and killed all the rebels as well as anyone they saw. In the end they realize their mistake for killing every member of the village because there was no one to transport the supplies from the village to their base camp. It’s remarkable to think that given their circumstances and the intense need for revenge—on both sides of the fighting—that the soldiers on either side wouldn’t be able to see how they were perpetuating the violence done to innocent villagers, leading to more escapees being turned to one side or the other. It isn’t until long after his rehabilitation that Beah is able to see this for himself. He recounts the endless circumnavigation of the revenge cycle and the need for an end to such perpetuating violence and death.
Something that really stuck out to me in the book were the actions of the boys and the soldiers. Throughout the book Beah and his friends “high-five” one another for any success or happiness, as the story continues, so do the high-fives. Beah and his friends high-five when they find money to spend at a market to buy food, rebel soldiers high-five when they successfully destroy three villages in the course of several hours, and Beah and his unit high-five when they successfully take over a small village. The juvenile gesture that is used to illustrate a job well done and to create a sense of camaraderie is defiled by its use for such perverse actions. The high-fives administered by the soldiers only served to illustrate their youth or their view of the war as nothing more than a type of game. Every time a high-five appeared later in the text I would cringe from the context in which the celebratory mark was recognizing. The familiarity of the gesture brought its placement within the narrative that much more close to home for me. It was a relief toward the end of the book to see the high-five be once more associated boyhood as Mohamed is doing the “running man and singing ‘Here Comes the Hammer’” (170).
After his rehabilitation, I was amazed at Beah’s ability to regain a sense of clarity about his life and to come to terms with his past actions—at least to some degree. At first he is angry and defiant toward those trying to help him, but eventually he takes their words to heart when they say, “None of these things are your fault” (165). Once he internalizes this, he is able to see the past more clearly. His speech at the UN Economic and Social Council was incredibly intelligent and moving. It is in this speech that he tells how boys become seduced and forced to become soldiers due to, “starvation, the loss of our families, and the need to feel safe and be part of something when all else has broken down” (199). He later claims that his experiences have taught him the dangers of revenge and how it “will never come to an end” (199).
The end of the book was heartbreaking to me. After all Beah had been through, the war finds him again. He loses his uncle and is forced to flee Sierra Leone. It seems as though the world is set against him with every step he takes, but in the end I felt confident that he would rise to the challenge and find family again in better circumstances. I was pleased to read in his note at the end of the text that he was reunited with some of his friends and family and that he was able to start a new family with kind people in New York. I think Beah’s memoir is an eye-opening and stunning text everyone should read—it truly gets to the heart of what it means to be human.
Friday, November 20, 2009
CI 5442: Biography/Memoir Response
Francisco Jiménez’s collection of vignettes from his autobiography, The Circuit, offered a heartfelt and eye-opening look into the harsh lives of migrant workers in southern California. I enjoyed being made aware of a new perspective of life within the United States and I can see where this text would be beneficial in helping to introduce readers to a lifestyle that is not often publicized. Within the text, I enjoyed the persistent force and drive of the Jiménez family as they worked together in their search for a better life.
The very first story within the text follows the small family as they make the treacherous journey from Mexico to the United States. Within the story Roberto mentions that, “Fito told me that people there sweep money off the streets” (3). This common misconception made by immigrants who are swept away by the promise of the “American Dream” is very common in literature that features immigrants from other countries who wish to make their fortune on the gold-lined streets of America. I thought this characterization of the family and their high hopes illustrated this point well. Even though Papa knows that this statement is false, he does tell his two sons, “But it’s true that life is better there” (3). It is a fact, not something up for discussion; it is only Mama who worries about the validity of such high expectations.
The reality of living in California is much different than what the family expects. Jiménez’s descriptions of the living conditions they were forced to endure, the vivid images invaded my mind. I tried to put myself in the same position as Jiménez and his family as they try to make a home in tents next to garbage dumps, garages with no windows or holes, living without running water, floors, or electricity much of the time. Before the birth of their third child, Mama “asked Papa to seal the base of the tent by piling extra dirt, about six inches high, all around it outside so that animals, especially snakes, could not crawl underneath during the night” (24). The dangerous conditions of their life in Tent City was difficult for me to comprehend based on my own experiences, nevertheless, the descriptive language of life among the tents makes the scene vividly real.
The Jiménez family has so little to live with from day-to-day that the few luxuries that they can accumulate become precious valuables to them. As soon as Jiménez mentioned his prized penny collection and notebook, I worried that something would happen to them. The pride with which held the objects and the obvious care he spent in protecting them set him up for some sort of disaster. I was heartbroken for him when he realized that his sister had taken his pennies and used them to buy gumballs and when the fire broke out, destroying his carefully collected assortment of words and pieces of knowledge written within the pages of his notebook, I was even more devastated for him. His mother reminds him, “We’re safe and we have each other, gracias a Dios,” but he still fills the pain of loss (93).
The two passages I enjoyed reading the most were “Learning the Game” and “Moving Still.” In the story “Learning the Game” Jiménez comes to learn the power of standing up for what is right. He sees Gabriel as he stands-up to the overseer who wants him to pull a plow like an animal—a degrading position he refuses to be pushed into. Seeing this gives Jiménez the foresight to stand-up against Carlos for Manuelito. He yells at Carlos, “You can push me around, but you can’t force me to play!” (78). Jiménez is given victory while Gabriel is fired for his obstinacy. I thought the parallel ideas reinforced the idea and even though Gabriel “lost” as Papa say, “Gabriel did what he had to do” (79).
In the chapter “Moving Still,” Jiménez and his family faces the dangers of the immigration officers. I thought it was particularly interesting that this frightening event happens on the verge of his recitation of the opening lines if the Declaration of Independence. The juxtaposition of his struggles to memorize the first few lines and the appearance of the immigration officers in his classroom emphasizes the exceptions to the rule—immigrants. This was a very moving chapter and only added to the struggle of the Jiménez family. I loved that these two chapters made me think about issues of immigration and the power/rights of the people.
Jiménez did a remarkable job in retelling his family’s stories and bringing to life all the people who influenced him during his life—from fellow workers and friends to the teachers who pushed him. The realism within his stories offers a new look at life for immigrants within the U.S. for those of us who take for granted the lives we have. I thought that this assortment of stories was well worth the read and provided me with new material and issues to ponder.
The very first story within the text follows the small family as they make the treacherous journey from Mexico to the United States. Within the story Roberto mentions that, “Fito told me that people there sweep money off the streets” (3). This common misconception made by immigrants who are swept away by the promise of the “American Dream” is very common in literature that features immigrants from other countries who wish to make their fortune on the gold-lined streets of America. I thought this characterization of the family and their high hopes illustrated this point well. Even though Papa knows that this statement is false, he does tell his two sons, “But it’s true that life is better there” (3). It is a fact, not something up for discussion; it is only Mama who worries about the validity of such high expectations.
The reality of living in California is much different than what the family expects. Jiménez’s descriptions of the living conditions they were forced to endure, the vivid images invaded my mind. I tried to put myself in the same position as Jiménez and his family as they try to make a home in tents next to garbage dumps, garages with no windows or holes, living without running water, floors, or electricity much of the time. Before the birth of their third child, Mama “asked Papa to seal the base of the tent by piling extra dirt, about six inches high, all around it outside so that animals, especially snakes, could not crawl underneath during the night” (24). The dangerous conditions of their life in Tent City was difficult for me to comprehend based on my own experiences, nevertheless, the descriptive language of life among the tents makes the scene vividly real.
The Jiménez family has so little to live with from day-to-day that the few luxuries that they can accumulate become precious valuables to them. As soon as Jiménez mentioned his prized penny collection and notebook, I worried that something would happen to them. The pride with which held the objects and the obvious care he spent in protecting them set him up for some sort of disaster. I was heartbroken for him when he realized that his sister had taken his pennies and used them to buy gumballs and when the fire broke out, destroying his carefully collected assortment of words and pieces of knowledge written within the pages of his notebook, I was even more devastated for him. His mother reminds him, “We’re safe and we have each other, gracias a Dios,” but he still fills the pain of loss (93).
The two passages I enjoyed reading the most were “Learning the Game” and “Moving Still.” In the story “Learning the Game” Jiménez comes to learn the power of standing up for what is right. He sees Gabriel as he stands-up to the overseer who wants him to pull a plow like an animal—a degrading position he refuses to be pushed into. Seeing this gives Jiménez the foresight to stand-up against Carlos for Manuelito. He yells at Carlos, “You can push me around, but you can’t force me to play!” (78). Jiménez is given victory while Gabriel is fired for his obstinacy. I thought the parallel ideas reinforced the idea and even though Gabriel “lost” as Papa say, “Gabriel did what he had to do” (79).
In the chapter “Moving Still,” Jiménez and his family faces the dangers of the immigration officers. I thought it was particularly interesting that this frightening event happens on the verge of his recitation of the opening lines if the Declaration of Independence. The juxtaposition of his struggles to memorize the first few lines and the appearance of the immigration officers in his classroom emphasizes the exceptions to the rule—immigrants. This was a very moving chapter and only added to the struggle of the Jiménez family. I loved that these two chapters made me think about issues of immigration and the power/rights of the people.
Jiménez did a remarkable job in retelling his family’s stories and bringing to life all the people who influenced him during his life—from fellow workers and friends to the teachers who pushed him. The realism within his stories offers a new look at life for immigrants within the U.S. for those of us who take for granted the lives we have. I thought that this assortment of stories was well worth the read and provided me with new material and issues to ponder.
Monday, November 16, 2009
CI 5442: Folklore Book Review
“Before Luke Skywalker, before Batman, before even King Arthur, there were the Greek heroes. Those guys knew how to fight!” (v). Thus begins Rick Riordan’s introduction to the latest edition of Roger Lancelyn Green’s Tales of the Greek Heroes. Riordan attributes his own success to his early encounter with Green’s text and, clearly, many thanks are due. Without Green’s comprehensive and all-encompassing presentation of some of the greatest myths and characters ever created, Riordan would perhaps have never given us Percy Jackson. Green recreates the famous mythology of the ancient Greeks in a new and refreshing way that makes the book impossible to put down.
The tales of the first Greek gods and heroes have been told many times before, but they have not been connected in such a grand narrative as put down by Green since their origin in Greek oral tradition. Green is able to seamlessly piece together every story with such ease that it is a wonder that it hasn’t been done before. One of the most difficult things about introducing children to Greek mythology is the disconnect—or seeming disconnect—between characters and stories. Combine this disconnect with the multitude of unfamiliar and similar names and it becomes a headache for all. Green not only provides illuminating insight into the personal history of each character, he also weaves their stories together in a way that is easy to follow and allows for time sufficient understanding and knowledge of each character.
As with many representations of mythology, Green works to create believable dialogue where none is certain. Green’s diction and dialogue is accessible and provides a more dynamic, narrative quality to the text. It is with this dialogue and careful writing that readers follow the gods from their creation and rise to power continuing on until the end of the Age of Heroes.
Something that Green does remarkably well is to adapt these stories and condense them without losing any of the magic which gives them life. Green admits that he has made some creative decisions and was forced to edit the depth in which each story is presented, but it does not detract from the text and the stories he is recounting to his audience.
A feature that is unique and delightful within the text is the inclusion of either a famous interpretation of the myths or an actual translation of the first recorded accounts of the myths by famous Greek writers at the beginning of each chapter. This grounds the myth as being something extremely valuable and provides validity of its ancient history. In doing this, Green provides readers with a glimpse of the lyrical quality that was either the oral tradition of the story first transcribed hundreds of years ago or the classic interpretations of those who were inspire by such famous tales. All in all Green’s interpretation of some of the most famous Greek myths is seamless in its ability to weave the various texts together “as that single whole which the Greeks believed it to be” (267). The stories educate and inspire all who read them and will remain with them long after the final pages have been turned for, “Once found, the magic web of old Greek myth and legend is ours by right—and ours for life” (270).
The tales of the first Greek gods and heroes have been told many times before, but they have not been connected in such a grand narrative as put down by Green since their origin in Greek oral tradition. Green is able to seamlessly piece together every story with such ease that it is a wonder that it hasn’t been done before. One of the most difficult things about introducing children to Greek mythology is the disconnect—or seeming disconnect—between characters and stories. Combine this disconnect with the multitude of unfamiliar and similar names and it becomes a headache for all. Green not only provides illuminating insight into the personal history of each character, he also weaves their stories together in a way that is easy to follow and allows for time sufficient understanding and knowledge of each character.
As with many representations of mythology, Green works to create believable dialogue where none is certain. Green’s diction and dialogue is accessible and provides a more dynamic, narrative quality to the text. It is with this dialogue and careful writing that readers follow the gods from their creation and rise to power continuing on until the end of the Age of Heroes.
Something that Green does remarkably well is to adapt these stories and condense them without losing any of the magic which gives them life. Green admits that he has made some creative decisions and was forced to edit the depth in which each story is presented, but it does not detract from the text and the stories he is recounting to his audience.
A feature that is unique and delightful within the text is the inclusion of either a famous interpretation of the myths or an actual translation of the first recorded accounts of the myths by famous Greek writers at the beginning of each chapter. This grounds the myth as being something extremely valuable and provides validity of its ancient history. In doing this, Green provides readers with a glimpse of the lyrical quality that was either the oral tradition of the story first transcribed hundreds of years ago or the classic interpretations of those who were inspire by such famous tales. All in all Green’s interpretation of some of the most famous Greek myths is seamless in its ability to weave the various texts together “as that single whole which the Greeks believed it to be” (267). The stories educate and inspire all who read them and will remain with them long after the final pages have been turned for, “Once found, the magic web of old Greek myth and legend is ours by right—and ours for life” (270).
CI 5442: Poetry Book Review
The book Hate That Cat by Sharon Creech is the well-written and heartwarming follow-up story to Love That Dog, both of which are novels in verse. The books follow a young boy as he learns to appreciate poetry for what it can be rather than what it always “must” be. In this second book, Ms. Stretchberry is able to bring more sophisticated poetry mechanics to life for her students. By reading the thoughts of Jack—in poem form—as he learns about alliteration and onomatopoeia while overcoming the loss of his dog Sky, Creech creates a story that is both heartfelt and educational. Her use of poetry and first person diary-esque dialogue invites readers into Jack’s world and lets readers learn to about poetry themselves, first hand.
Creech’s ability to show readers what is going on inside of Jacks mind is a key aspect of the novel. As the reader follows Jack they learn more and more about his feelings and relationships with the things around him. The one-sided aspect of the journal should, perhaps, make it difficult to keep up with the dialogue between Jack and Ms. Stretchberry but Creech counters this by giving the journal a sense of continued dialogue. It is easy enough to determine what is going on both within the journal and in the outside world simply by connecting the journal entries to one another.
After reading Love That Dog, it seems as though there is nothing more the reader can learn about Jack, but during the reading of his second poetry journal more details about him are brought to life in a way that enhances his charm and highlights the effects of poetry on all manners of people. Creech emphasizes some of the key pieces of figurative language that are often associated with poetry in the text, alliteration and onomatopoeia. While she uses many different examples in Jack’s entries to illustrate the meaning and use of these devices, she is sure to point out that they are not essential parts of the poem. Creech creates a foil to Jack’s poems and beliefs about poetry in the form of Jack’s Uncle Bill—a university professor. Uncle Bill is highly critical not only of Jack’s poems but also the poems of William Carlos Williams and other famous authors discussed in Ms. Stretchberry’s class.
The most remarkable aspect of the text is Creech’s development of Jack’s understanding of poetry. In the text, Jack poses a very good question, “if you cannot hear/ do words have no sounds/ in your head?/ Do you see/ a/ silent/ movie?” (16). He poses a similar question about the use of onomatopoeia and how sound words would be interpreted by someone who cannot hear. These questions lead the reader to wonder why they appear in Jack’s journal. We learn that Jack’s mother is deaf and that she feels sound—tapping out the rhythm. Jack’s mother serves not only as a catalyst for these questions about poetry and sound, but also as a reminder readers that the emotions, thoughts, images, etc. evoked by a poem are more important than a poem’s form, rhythm, and style. It is these qualities that make poems worth the reader’s time—something Jack comes to understand despite his Uncle Bill’s protestations.
Creech uses Jack and his family as the protagonists in the fight against those who dread and fear poetry. By using a child’s reactions and opinions to poetry—especially “classic” poetry from authors like Tennyson and Poe—Creech empowers readers; she gives them the tools and ability to look at poetry with a fresh and confidant eye. No longer is poetry the dreaded, impossible compilation of words on a page, it is the ticking of a clock, the purring of a cat, the image of an eagle clasping a rock with its talons. Creech entertains, empowers, and teaches her audience to appreciate and confidently approach poetry by showing readers the path of understanding taken by Jack as ha navigates through the misconceptions of poetry. The novel is a clever, disguised learning experience that is enjoyable for all who encounter it.
Creech’s ability to show readers what is going on inside of Jacks mind is a key aspect of the novel. As the reader follows Jack they learn more and more about his feelings and relationships with the things around him. The one-sided aspect of the journal should, perhaps, make it difficult to keep up with the dialogue between Jack and Ms. Stretchberry but Creech counters this by giving the journal a sense of continued dialogue. It is easy enough to determine what is going on both within the journal and in the outside world simply by connecting the journal entries to one another.
After reading Love That Dog, it seems as though there is nothing more the reader can learn about Jack, but during the reading of his second poetry journal more details about him are brought to life in a way that enhances his charm and highlights the effects of poetry on all manners of people. Creech emphasizes some of the key pieces of figurative language that are often associated with poetry in the text, alliteration and onomatopoeia. While she uses many different examples in Jack’s entries to illustrate the meaning and use of these devices, she is sure to point out that they are not essential parts of the poem. Creech creates a foil to Jack’s poems and beliefs about poetry in the form of Jack’s Uncle Bill—a university professor. Uncle Bill is highly critical not only of Jack’s poems but also the poems of William Carlos Williams and other famous authors discussed in Ms. Stretchberry’s class.
The most remarkable aspect of the text is Creech’s development of Jack’s understanding of poetry. In the text, Jack poses a very good question, “if you cannot hear/ do words have no sounds/ in your head?/ Do you see/ a/ silent/ movie?” (16). He poses a similar question about the use of onomatopoeia and how sound words would be interpreted by someone who cannot hear. These questions lead the reader to wonder why they appear in Jack’s journal. We learn that Jack’s mother is deaf and that she feels sound—tapping out the rhythm. Jack’s mother serves not only as a catalyst for these questions about poetry and sound, but also as a reminder readers that the emotions, thoughts, images, etc. evoked by a poem are more important than a poem’s form, rhythm, and style. It is these qualities that make poems worth the reader’s time—something Jack comes to understand despite his Uncle Bill’s protestations.
Creech uses Jack and his family as the protagonists in the fight against those who dread and fear poetry. By using a child’s reactions and opinions to poetry—especially “classic” poetry from authors like Tennyson and Poe—Creech empowers readers; she gives them the tools and ability to look at poetry with a fresh and confidant eye. No longer is poetry the dreaded, impossible compilation of words on a page, it is the ticking of a clock, the purring of a cat, the image of an eagle clasping a rock with its talons. Creech entertains, empowers, and teaches her audience to appreciate and confidently approach poetry by showing readers the path of understanding taken by Jack as ha navigates through the misconceptions of poetry. The novel is a clever, disguised learning experience that is enjoyable for all who encounter it.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
CI 5442: Non-Fiction Response #1
I was excited to start reading Jennifer Armstrong’s Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World. Flipping through the text I was drawn to the images of the men and the clear struggles they faced based on the documentation provided by the photographs. Non-fiction can be a difficult genre to really engage with unless you are particularly interested in the topic or there is a human component to the presentation of the material that draws you in. This text is able to combine these two elements and create a narrative that is captivating for anyone despite their interests.
The first few pages provided nothing more than basic information about the journey and the area in which the Endurance was about to traverse. At first I was worried that I wouldn’t get the story I wanted most—about the men themselves—but, Armstrong was not about to disappoint me. Soon, I was learning about the crew and imagining their antics: from practical jokes to skiing attempts. I was also sitting on the edge of my seat as I read about the tight time-frame the men had to deal with, “If Shackleton did not reach the edge of the continent before the end of the short Antarctic summer, the ice would shut him out” (15). I tried to imagine the agony of being forced to wait at the whaling station before traveling on in hopes of being the first to travel across Antarctica; a lofty goal with so many obstacles and odds set against them.
As I continued to read I was drawn by the humanity of the men aboard the Endurance. Because of the remarkably thorough documentation and reports of the entire crew, not only did I feel as though I was getting to know some of the men, but I also felt tied to their journey. The book takes the reader through the hard times as well as the uplifting or light-hearted moments experienced by the crew in a way that invests the reader in both the lives of the men and their expedition. We are able to see the men as they were beyond their occupations—they were young men setting out for adventure; men who played pranks, held races, and made toasts such as, “ To our sweethearts and wives—may they never meet” (20).
Shackleton himself stood out to me among the members of the crew. While I was nervous to read at the beginning of the book that he didn’t make emergency plans and was a seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, he turned out to be the driving force behind the successful rescue of his men. It is obvious when reading the comments of the crew and Shackleton’s own account that he always held the good of his men as his top priority. He worked hard to ensure that spirits and morale was maintained as much as possible—breaking up disagreements and never letting the crew know if a break was meant specifically for them as they travelled across the barren ice and sea of the Antarctic. When they must leave the ship, Shackleton leaves behind gold coins but orders Hussey to take his banjo, “because they would need the comfort of music in the hard times ahead” (52). When the crew’s temporary ice camp cracked he alerted them and helped them to get across to the “safe” side of the floe as he stayed “behind to ensure that all of his men got over safely” (80).
After leaving most of the crew of Elephant Island in order to go seek aid, Shackleton continues to think about the needs of his men. South Georgia Island, across 800 miles of open sea in a small dingy not meant for such trying use, the men left behind pushed the Shackleton and the others to the brink. Armstrong notes, “He was tormented with the thought of the twenty-two men waiting for him. They were waiting for him. The Boss. For months they had placed all their hopes and lives in his hands” (107). Thus he decides to trek across the “Alps of the Southern Ocean” a feat never accomplished before. His duty to his men pushed him, “He could not rest now, when only when only twenty-nine miles separated him from rescue for his men” (107). When he is finally able to reunite with his men, Shackleton is paid the highest of compliments, “We knew you’d come back” (123). Shackleton exemplifies the qualities desired in a leader among men and this account serves as a testament of his duty to ensure the survival of his men.
Armstrong is able to combine the personal accounts of the journey with detailed information about the dangers and scientific aspects of the traveling through the Antarctic Circle during the early twentieth century in a way that is informative and interesting at the same time. She threads the information within the story of the men and their survival flawlessly. Even though I am not particularly interested in sea-travel at the turn of the twentieth century I was drawn into the details of the trip by their connection to the journey of the Endurance. Armstrong is able to present the information using highly literary and engaging language that allows the setting to become a character in the plot and the scientific aspects of the journey and setting to become integral pieces in developing the plot. She claims that the timbers of the ship “began to complain” under the pressure from the ice, or describing the riptide “roaring after them, threatening to engulf the three puny boats with a deluge of ice and slush,” effectively characterizing the men’s surroundings in an almost lyrical narrative style (39, 79).
Armstrong’s retelling of this amazing feat of human endurance is entertaining and informative in equal amounts. I learned a lot but never felt overwhelmed by the information presented in the text. She smoothly transitions information from primary accounts of those among the Endurance with the history and dangers associated with the area and travel during the beginning of the twentieth century. The photographs add to the validity of the accounts within the text and draw the reader into the lives of the men as they battle against nature and time. In the end Armstrong is able to create a piece of non-fiction that draws the reader in so much that they become absorbed in the details and fate of the Endurance and her brave crew.
The first few pages provided nothing more than basic information about the journey and the area in which the Endurance was about to traverse. At first I was worried that I wouldn’t get the story I wanted most—about the men themselves—but, Armstrong was not about to disappoint me. Soon, I was learning about the crew and imagining their antics: from practical jokes to skiing attempts. I was also sitting on the edge of my seat as I read about the tight time-frame the men had to deal with, “If Shackleton did not reach the edge of the continent before the end of the short Antarctic summer, the ice would shut him out” (15). I tried to imagine the agony of being forced to wait at the whaling station before traveling on in hopes of being the first to travel across Antarctica; a lofty goal with so many obstacles and odds set against them.
As I continued to read I was drawn by the humanity of the men aboard the Endurance. Because of the remarkably thorough documentation and reports of the entire crew, not only did I feel as though I was getting to know some of the men, but I also felt tied to their journey. The book takes the reader through the hard times as well as the uplifting or light-hearted moments experienced by the crew in a way that invests the reader in both the lives of the men and their expedition. We are able to see the men as they were beyond their occupations—they were young men setting out for adventure; men who played pranks, held races, and made toasts such as, “ To our sweethearts and wives—may they never meet” (20).
Shackleton himself stood out to me among the members of the crew. While I was nervous to read at the beginning of the book that he didn’t make emergency plans and was a seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, he turned out to be the driving force behind the successful rescue of his men. It is obvious when reading the comments of the crew and Shackleton’s own account that he always held the good of his men as his top priority. He worked hard to ensure that spirits and morale was maintained as much as possible—breaking up disagreements and never letting the crew know if a break was meant specifically for them as they travelled across the barren ice and sea of the Antarctic. When they must leave the ship, Shackleton leaves behind gold coins but orders Hussey to take his banjo, “because they would need the comfort of music in the hard times ahead” (52). When the crew’s temporary ice camp cracked he alerted them and helped them to get across to the “safe” side of the floe as he stayed “behind to ensure that all of his men got over safely” (80).
After leaving most of the crew of Elephant Island in order to go seek aid, Shackleton continues to think about the needs of his men. South Georgia Island, across 800 miles of open sea in a small dingy not meant for such trying use, the men left behind pushed the Shackleton and the others to the brink. Armstrong notes, “He was tormented with the thought of the twenty-two men waiting for him. They were waiting for him. The Boss. For months they had placed all their hopes and lives in his hands” (107). Thus he decides to trek across the “Alps of the Southern Ocean” a feat never accomplished before. His duty to his men pushed him, “He could not rest now, when only when only twenty-nine miles separated him from rescue for his men” (107). When he is finally able to reunite with his men, Shackleton is paid the highest of compliments, “We knew you’d come back” (123). Shackleton exemplifies the qualities desired in a leader among men and this account serves as a testament of his duty to ensure the survival of his men.
Armstrong is able to combine the personal accounts of the journey with detailed information about the dangers and scientific aspects of the traveling through the Antarctic Circle during the early twentieth century in a way that is informative and interesting at the same time. She threads the information within the story of the men and their survival flawlessly. Even though I am not particularly interested in sea-travel at the turn of the twentieth century I was drawn into the details of the trip by their connection to the journey of the Endurance. Armstrong is able to present the information using highly literary and engaging language that allows the setting to become a character in the plot and the scientific aspects of the journey and setting to become integral pieces in developing the plot. She claims that the timbers of the ship “began to complain” under the pressure from the ice, or describing the riptide “roaring after them, threatening to engulf the three puny boats with a deluge of ice and slush,” effectively characterizing the men’s surroundings in an almost lyrical narrative style (39, 79).
Armstrong’s retelling of this amazing feat of human endurance is entertaining and informative in equal amounts. I learned a lot but never felt overwhelmed by the information presented in the text. She smoothly transitions information from primary accounts of those among the Endurance with the history and dangers associated with the area and travel during the beginning of the twentieth century. The photographs add to the validity of the accounts within the text and draw the reader into the lives of the men as they battle against nature and time. In the end Armstrong is able to create a piece of non-fiction that draws the reader in so much that they become absorbed in the details and fate of the Endurance and her brave crew.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
CI 5442: Science Fiction Response #2
Alright, The Giver. I read this book in fifth grade and I hated it. I admit that part of this might have been caused by my mother who expressed her distaste for the book to me when she found out that I was reading it. Because of this and the fact that everyone just loves I thought I would read it again. Reading it now I can see why people like it, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I think Jonas is a great character and I was relieved when both he and the Giver decide to force emotions back into the community but their society bothers me so much. I think my discomfort with science fiction is my apprehension that dystopian societies could be created or that they are on their way to being built already.
Jonas is the one redeeming character in the book for me—the Giver to a lesser extent. Jonas thinks carefully about his words throughout the text illustrating a connection with language that others don’t seem to possess. Even when he is receiving memories from the Giver he is attuned to his lack of language. He grasps the power of words such as warmth, family, grandparents, and love as well as more negative and painful words like war, pain, and death. For the amount of emphasis his community places on the precision of language, it is remarkable how much they miss with the lack of memories and real feelings. Jonas asks his parents his parents if they love him and their response illustrates the lack of depth within their emotions and actions within the community. His father replies, “You of all people. Precision of language, please!” while his mother explains:
Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that it’s become almost obsolete….our community can’t function smoothly if people don’t use precise language. You could ask, ‘Do you enjoy me?’ The answer is ‘Yes’….Do you understand why it’s inappropriate to use a word like ‘love’? (127)
It’s sad to think that a word as powerful as love could be reduced to mere “enjoyment” and “pride” the way Jonas’ parents describe their affection for him and his sister. I think that Lowry is able to provide readers with a glimpse into a bleak existence without emotions by emphasizing the power of language through Jonas.
Clearly language is tied to emotion, but as Jonas learns, both emotion and language are firmly grounded in memory. A powerful moment for me in the text was when Jonas attempts to rejoin his childhood friends in a game of “good guy” versus “bad guy.” A game he had played many times, yet, “He never recognized it before as a game of war” (133). He pleads with his friends to stop the game saying, “You had no way of knowing this. I didn’t know it myself until recently. But it’s a cruel game” (134). His friends don’t have the same memories as Jonas and therefore they don’t understand. It’s like when you are a kid and you hear a bad word for the first time and then you go around using it because you don’t know what it means and why it is inappropriate.
My least favorite part in the book is when Jonas sees his father “releasing” a newly born infant because it is the smaller of two identical twins. I was as horrified as Jonas to “see” the needle being driven into the smaller infants head until his struggles ceased. For Jonas’ father, it isn’t a big deal and he dumps the baby into something resembling “the same sort of chute into which trash was deposited at school” (150). That is exactly the image that killed this book for me when I was younger and even reading it again it gives me chills. I think Lowry wanted to illustrate the disconnect achieved by the members in society because of their lack of memories and feelings—attributes that define our species and set us apart from other creatures. Without these elements humans become nothing more than empty shells.
I was so relieved when Jonas inspires the Giver to understand the importance of memories and the need to release them back into the community. Although the pair knows that releasing the memories will be difficult and painful for the community, but in the end the memories will release the community from their meaningless and empty existence. The Giver notes that memories “are forever” and need to be shared (144). He notes that the people will be in great need of him once the memories are returned to them and, therefore, he won’t be able to leave with Jonas. He tells Jonas, “The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared” (154). Only through expression and communication can we—as humans—come to terms with experiences, emotions, and events in our lives.
Lowry creates a world that enables readers to see the importance and significance of the entire spectrum of human experiences—from unbelievable suffering and pain to blissful moments of happiness and love. Readers can explore the power of language and memories by entering a dystopian society. The novel explores extreme control in a safe and hypothetical environment—but that doesn’t make it any less disturbing. While the premise of the story still bothers me I will acknowledge that it did make me think about the world and the future; especially in terms of what I can do to prevent such an existence from becoming a reality.
Jonas is the one redeeming character in the book for me—the Giver to a lesser extent. Jonas thinks carefully about his words throughout the text illustrating a connection with language that others don’t seem to possess. Even when he is receiving memories from the Giver he is attuned to his lack of language. He grasps the power of words such as warmth, family, grandparents, and love as well as more negative and painful words like war, pain, and death. For the amount of emphasis his community places on the precision of language, it is remarkable how much they miss with the lack of memories and real feelings. Jonas asks his parents his parents if they love him and their response illustrates the lack of depth within their emotions and actions within the community. His father replies, “You of all people. Precision of language, please!” while his mother explains:
Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that it’s become almost obsolete….our community can’t function smoothly if people don’t use precise language. You could ask, ‘Do you enjoy me?’ The answer is ‘Yes’….Do you understand why it’s inappropriate to use a word like ‘love’? (127)
It’s sad to think that a word as powerful as love could be reduced to mere “enjoyment” and “pride” the way Jonas’ parents describe their affection for him and his sister. I think that Lowry is able to provide readers with a glimpse into a bleak existence without emotions by emphasizing the power of language through Jonas.
Clearly language is tied to emotion, but as Jonas learns, both emotion and language are firmly grounded in memory. A powerful moment for me in the text was when Jonas attempts to rejoin his childhood friends in a game of “good guy” versus “bad guy.” A game he had played many times, yet, “He never recognized it before as a game of war” (133). He pleads with his friends to stop the game saying, “You had no way of knowing this. I didn’t know it myself until recently. But it’s a cruel game” (134). His friends don’t have the same memories as Jonas and therefore they don’t understand. It’s like when you are a kid and you hear a bad word for the first time and then you go around using it because you don’t know what it means and why it is inappropriate.
My least favorite part in the book is when Jonas sees his father “releasing” a newly born infant because it is the smaller of two identical twins. I was as horrified as Jonas to “see” the needle being driven into the smaller infants head until his struggles ceased. For Jonas’ father, it isn’t a big deal and he dumps the baby into something resembling “the same sort of chute into which trash was deposited at school” (150). That is exactly the image that killed this book for me when I was younger and even reading it again it gives me chills. I think Lowry wanted to illustrate the disconnect achieved by the members in society because of their lack of memories and feelings—attributes that define our species and set us apart from other creatures. Without these elements humans become nothing more than empty shells.
I was so relieved when Jonas inspires the Giver to understand the importance of memories and the need to release them back into the community. Although the pair knows that releasing the memories will be difficult and painful for the community, but in the end the memories will release the community from their meaningless and empty existence. The Giver notes that memories “are forever” and need to be shared (144). He notes that the people will be in great need of him once the memories are returned to them and, therefore, he won’t be able to leave with Jonas. He tells Jonas, “The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared” (154). Only through expression and communication can we—as humans—come to terms with experiences, emotions, and events in our lives.
Lowry creates a world that enables readers to see the importance and significance of the entire spectrum of human experiences—from unbelievable suffering and pain to blissful moments of happiness and love. Readers can explore the power of language and memories by entering a dystopian society. The novel explores extreme control in a safe and hypothetical environment—but that doesn’t make it any less disturbing. While the premise of the story still bothers me I will acknowledge that it did make me think about the world and the future; especially in terms of what I can do to prevent such an existence from becoming a reality.
CI 5442: Science Fiction Response #1
I was a bit apprehensive about diving into science fiction, especially a novel about clones, but I found Nancy Farmer’s The House of the Scorpion to be a disturbing yet completely engrossing text. I found myself caring about Matt and the decisions he made throughout the text. I cringed when he forced his Maria to kiss him at El Patron’s birthday party and I sympathized with his bought of severe acne after working at the shrimp harvesting company. Nevertheless, I still shudder at some of the topics within the novel and ideas that are in science fiction.
The most interesting piece of Farmer’s story was the stigma attached to being a clone. From the moment Matt’s foot is read by those in the Alacran house he is ostracized and viewed as nothing more than an animal. Rosa, the unfortunate housekeeper who is forced to care for Matt, literally treats him as an animal by providing him with newspapers as a lavatory. She eventually puts down chicken litter to make it easier for her to care for him. Willum, the doctor, remarks about Rosa’s decision saying, “You’re a strange woman, Rosa, but I have to admit the beast’s in good condition” (43). Even Maria, Matt’s only friend, continues to consider Matt to be an animal by comparing him to her dog, Furball. Eventually even Matt begins to believe that he is an animal. He tells Maria, “ ‘I am an animal,’ he replied. Once those words would have pained him, but he accepted his status now” (92). The only people who don’t treat him like an animal are Celia and Tam Lin. Both adults treat Matt like a human and expect more from him.
During El Patron’s 143rd birthday party, after Matt behaves like an animal in a figurative way. After the treatment of Tom, the embarrassing gift and kiss situation with Maria, the mysterious death of Furball, Matt’s anger turns to heartache as he realizes how his behavior can eventually poison his behavior and his future. Yet he remembers the words of Tam Lin, “Any rat in a sewer can lie….But a human doesn’t run and hide in dark places, because he’s something more” (134). At first this does nothing but drive Matt further into his own torment, but then he realizes that such a statement mirrors Tam Lin’s treatment of him as different from others. “He treated Matt as an equal” (138). In this Matt finds hope from, “Someone, out of all the people who thought he was no better than a dog, believed he could be something more” (139). It is from that moment on that Matt really decides to be a better person than Matteo Alacran, the original.
Matt and El Patron have a very strange relationship throughout the novel. I myself was very curious as to what the purpose for Matt’s creation and El Patron’s reason for not wanting to have a chip inserted into his brain. It was well into the novel that I began to doubt the sincerity and benevolence behind El Patron’s decisions. Every moment from then on in which there was any kind of foreshadow to perpetuate these thoughts, I physically cringed. It was heartbreaking for me and I tried to deny it as much as possible, just as Matt did, but when the awful truth came out I was terrified for Matt. It was only through my faith and trust in Celia, Tam Lin, and Maria to get him out safely that I was able to continue reading the book. When I get really involved in a novel it is hard for me to continue reading if I feel any apprehension for the well-being of the characters.
My favorite part in the book was when Tam Lin lets Matt know the secret about clones. He whispers into Matt’s ear, “No one can tell the difference between a clone and a human. That’s because there isn’t any difference. The idea of clones being inferior is a filthy lie” (245). This is something that helps Matt when he finally escapes Opium and enters Aztlan—escaping one dystopia for another. In Atzlan, Matt isn’t looked down upon for being a clone, instead he is singled out for being “the aristocrat” (280). With the Lost Boys and the Keepers Matt faces a new world filled with misplaced and hypocritical Socialists. The Keepers are unable to really practice what they preach and essentially imprison the boys while they spend the days eating and taking drugs. In this new land Matt gains his first male friends his own age who don’t treat him differently for being a clone—even after their initial misgivings. Matt is quick to point out to the Keepers that they are attempting to turn the boys into zombies or the eejits created in Opium.
I was relieved in the end when the all the boys finally see through their disillusionment and take things into their own hands. I love the fact that Farmer really gives us the glimpses into the different experiences and influences that shape Matt. Throughout the book he recalls advice given to him by others, moments of love, moments of anger, moments of joy, everything that make him into the person at the end of the book who is willing to return to Opium in order to take control of the entire enterprise and bring it down—going with full acknowledgment that he might not make it. In the end I admired Matt for his fortitude and strength of character; he could have let the experiences in his life lead him to become another El Patron but he rose above them.
I enjoyed reading the book, and yet, I have to admit that despite Farmer’s ability to present serious and feasible issues in her text I will not actively pursue a greater diet of science fiction text than necessary—although I might have to check out the other books in this series just to see what happens. The book gave me horrible nightmares and while I know that some of that could have been heightened by the fever I had the day and night I read the book, I don’t enjoy thinking about these topics in such personal ways. Good literature affects me personally and Farmer’s text did just that; I admit my personal investment in Matt’s story despite its genre.
The most interesting piece of Farmer’s story was the stigma attached to being a clone. From the moment Matt’s foot is read by those in the Alacran house he is ostracized and viewed as nothing more than an animal. Rosa, the unfortunate housekeeper who is forced to care for Matt, literally treats him as an animal by providing him with newspapers as a lavatory. She eventually puts down chicken litter to make it easier for her to care for him. Willum, the doctor, remarks about Rosa’s decision saying, “You’re a strange woman, Rosa, but I have to admit the beast’s in good condition” (43). Even Maria, Matt’s only friend, continues to consider Matt to be an animal by comparing him to her dog, Furball. Eventually even Matt begins to believe that he is an animal. He tells Maria, “ ‘I am an animal,’ he replied. Once those words would have pained him, but he accepted his status now” (92). The only people who don’t treat him like an animal are Celia and Tam Lin. Both adults treat Matt like a human and expect more from him.
During El Patron’s 143rd birthday party, after Matt behaves like an animal in a figurative way. After the treatment of Tom, the embarrassing gift and kiss situation with Maria, the mysterious death of Furball, Matt’s anger turns to heartache as he realizes how his behavior can eventually poison his behavior and his future. Yet he remembers the words of Tam Lin, “Any rat in a sewer can lie….But a human doesn’t run and hide in dark places, because he’s something more” (134). At first this does nothing but drive Matt further into his own torment, but then he realizes that such a statement mirrors Tam Lin’s treatment of him as different from others. “He treated Matt as an equal” (138). In this Matt finds hope from, “Someone, out of all the people who thought he was no better than a dog, believed he could be something more” (139). It is from that moment on that Matt really decides to be a better person than Matteo Alacran, the original.
Matt and El Patron have a very strange relationship throughout the novel. I myself was very curious as to what the purpose for Matt’s creation and El Patron’s reason for not wanting to have a chip inserted into his brain. It was well into the novel that I began to doubt the sincerity and benevolence behind El Patron’s decisions. Every moment from then on in which there was any kind of foreshadow to perpetuate these thoughts, I physically cringed. It was heartbreaking for me and I tried to deny it as much as possible, just as Matt did, but when the awful truth came out I was terrified for Matt. It was only through my faith and trust in Celia, Tam Lin, and Maria to get him out safely that I was able to continue reading the book. When I get really involved in a novel it is hard for me to continue reading if I feel any apprehension for the well-being of the characters.
My favorite part in the book was when Tam Lin lets Matt know the secret about clones. He whispers into Matt’s ear, “No one can tell the difference between a clone and a human. That’s because there isn’t any difference. The idea of clones being inferior is a filthy lie” (245). This is something that helps Matt when he finally escapes Opium and enters Aztlan—escaping one dystopia for another. In Atzlan, Matt isn’t looked down upon for being a clone, instead he is singled out for being “the aristocrat” (280). With the Lost Boys and the Keepers Matt faces a new world filled with misplaced and hypocritical Socialists. The Keepers are unable to really practice what they preach and essentially imprison the boys while they spend the days eating and taking drugs. In this new land Matt gains his first male friends his own age who don’t treat him differently for being a clone—even after their initial misgivings. Matt is quick to point out to the Keepers that they are attempting to turn the boys into zombies or the eejits created in Opium.
I was relieved in the end when the all the boys finally see through their disillusionment and take things into their own hands. I love the fact that Farmer really gives us the glimpses into the different experiences and influences that shape Matt. Throughout the book he recalls advice given to him by others, moments of love, moments of anger, moments of joy, everything that make him into the person at the end of the book who is willing to return to Opium in order to take control of the entire enterprise and bring it down—going with full acknowledgment that he might not make it. In the end I admired Matt for his fortitude and strength of character; he could have let the experiences in his life lead him to become another El Patron but he rose above them.
I enjoyed reading the book, and yet, I have to admit that despite Farmer’s ability to present serious and feasible issues in her text I will not actively pursue a greater diet of science fiction text than necessary—although I might have to check out the other books in this series just to see what happens. The book gave me horrible nightmares and while I know that some of that could have been heightened by the fever I had the day and night I read the book, I don’t enjoy thinking about these topics in such personal ways. Good literature affects me personally and Farmer’s text did just that; I admit my personal investment in Matt’s story despite its genre.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
CI 5442: Fantasy Response #2
Being myself an avid fan of Greek and Roman mythology and having read both The Odyssey and The Aeneid—I even translated some of this from the Latin texts—I was intrigued to read Adèle Geras’ novel Troy. While the facts and figures from the text fit within my prior knowledge and understanding of the long siege of Troy, the book itself left me a little disappointed. While there were many elements I enjoyed in the story itself, I had a hard time connecting with the characters in a way that made me actually care for them on a personal level. Part of this might come from my aversion to stories with dramatic love triangles that seem trite, but I also think the number of characters contributed to my disinterest—not that I wanted anything bad to happen to them, but I was as involved in their lives as I wished to be. That being said, let’s talk about the things I did enjoy about the text.
The Gods. I thought the use of the gods and goddesses within the texts was brilliant! I loved the fact that they would come and disclose information about the present or future only to be dismissed as lunatics by the very people they conversed with in Troy. Characters within the text either found themselves completely disregarding the information provided by the gods and then simply forgetting what they heard or acknowledging their presence only to forget it anyway. The only character who was able to instantly recognize, believe, and remember the gods walking among them was Marpessa who’s near death experience seems to have given her some connection with the gods—at least that is my guess for her capabilities. It could also be her belief and continued exposure to them that allows her to recognize the gods when they appear to interfere with the citizens of Troy.
While some might think the constant interference of the gods and the inability of the citizens to remember them doesn’t fit within the text, I think it is the perfect way to not only explain some of the events that have, are, or will take place so that the audience can keep up with the intricacies of the Trojan War. The use of the gods also reinforces the idea that the gods were a constant part of the lives of the Trojans and Greeks alike. As Ares, the god of war, claims, “It’s not as easy as it looks, organizing things. Every battle has a plan, and every death, every wounding, has to be worked out. It’s exhausting, I can tell you. But it’s almost over…this war” (266). Ares goes further to explain that the gods are tired of the war and ready for it to be over, “It’s enough…That’s the feeling on Olympus. It’s all gone on long enough. I had to promise the end was in sight” (266). His presence throughout the text and the work of the other gods in orchestrating or divulging information about the war makes it explicitly clear who is in charge of Fate.
Geras also does an admirable job in showing the humanness of the gods. When the gods were created by the ancient peoples of the Mediterranean, they imagined them as possessing the same faults and humors as mankind as well as a similar appearance. The actions of the gods illustrate these human characteristics. Hermes loves to gossip and spread news, Hera feels the need to comfort, Artemis laments the loss of life, Hephaestus wants to make the best armor there is, Zeus seeks out human lovers, Ares plans battles, Poseidon has a temper that shakes the ground, both Hera and Athena are jealous and can hold a grudge, and Aphrodite needs lots and lots of attention and feels guilt over the amount of damage she unknowingly created. She says at the end of the book after Troy has been ravaged by war and fire, “‘As for that…’She looked toward Troy, now vanishing into the distance. ‘I didn’t really mean for so much destruction’” (356). They are human yet not and their actions influenced the course of history.
I also enjoyed the reflective nature of the situation in Troy and the characteristics of the gods with the characters in the book. The “Gossips” of the cooking women in the palace reminded me of the three “Fates” who decide, measure, and cut the life threads of all mortals. The women gossiping were forever discussing what was going on around them and the latest news that influenced the Fate of Troy. The jealousy of the goddesses was reflected in both the lives of the Trojan princes and princesses and the lives of their servants in Marpessa, Xanthe, and Iason with Alastor and Polyxena thrown into the mix. The wills of the gods also mirrored the wills and actions of the different armies and warriors as they battle tirelessly for ten years. The micro/macro parallel marks a good work of historical fiction—throw in the aid of the Greek gods, and Geras creates an exemplary piece of historical fantasy.
What I liked about Geras’ interpretation, besides the accuracy to ancient texts, is the fact that she was able to capture the anguish of the war and the destruction of lives on both sides of the wall—Greek and Trojan. While the Greeks may come out more as the villains, there is enough detail on both sides of the story to suggest that both sides were fighting an impossible war that had negative consequences and feelings all around; both nations have good and bad warriors and people living among them, both nations have people who regret the destruction caused by the war both in regards to human life and the city itself. I liked the inclusion of Greek thoughts at the end of the book that let the reader into the minds of different Greek warriors as they sacked, burned, and looted Troy. These thoughts gave us thoughts to balance those of the Trojans—some happily following orders to burn and loot, others questioning the decisions, orders, and actions of those in command; “Of course we couldn’t afford to leave Hector’s son alive. I see that. But there’s ways and ways. Kid wasn’t more than a baby. He could’ve been smothered with a pillow….But he wasn’t….That’s what I’ll see. That’s what I can’t stop seeing” (337-338). The narrator, whoever he is, cannot stomach or forget the image of Astyanax being tossed over the wall and onto the sharp rocks below showing a sense of humanity among the brute force of his commander.
Overall, Geras takes a very complex tale with a great amount of required background knowledge and reworks it into a text that is accessible and, perhaps, more appealing to younger readers. It reads very much like a modern Soap Opera-esque drama—like The Hills of an ancient era. I think the characters deal with timeless issues of love, hate, jealousy, and the overarching destruction of war; issues readers can still identify with. I think my own distaste for the overly dramatic realm of daytime television clouds my reading to some degree and denies my absolute love for the text, but there are many redeeming qualities that place it among novels that I like and admire. I wish that I could have learned more about the characters—their pasts and presents—in order to form a greater bond with them, but alas, it was not to be. When it comes down to it though, I think Geras does an admirable job and I can see myself recommending this book or maybe using it as a companion text to classical Greek and Roman literature.
The Gods. I thought the use of the gods and goddesses within the texts was brilliant! I loved the fact that they would come and disclose information about the present or future only to be dismissed as lunatics by the very people they conversed with in Troy. Characters within the text either found themselves completely disregarding the information provided by the gods and then simply forgetting what they heard or acknowledging their presence only to forget it anyway. The only character who was able to instantly recognize, believe, and remember the gods walking among them was Marpessa who’s near death experience seems to have given her some connection with the gods—at least that is my guess for her capabilities. It could also be her belief and continued exposure to them that allows her to recognize the gods when they appear to interfere with the citizens of Troy.
While some might think the constant interference of the gods and the inability of the citizens to remember them doesn’t fit within the text, I think it is the perfect way to not only explain some of the events that have, are, or will take place so that the audience can keep up with the intricacies of the Trojan War. The use of the gods also reinforces the idea that the gods were a constant part of the lives of the Trojans and Greeks alike. As Ares, the god of war, claims, “It’s not as easy as it looks, organizing things. Every battle has a plan, and every death, every wounding, has to be worked out. It’s exhausting, I can tell you. But it’s almost over…this war” (266). Ares goes further to explain that the gods are tired of the war and ready for it to be over, “It’s enough…That’s the feeling on Olympus. It’s all gone on long enough. I had to promise the end was in sight” (266). His presence throughout the text and the work of the other gods in orchestrating or divulging information about the war makes it explicitly clear who is in charge of Fate.
Geras also does an admirable job in showing the humanness of the gods. When the gods were created by the ancient peoples of the Mediterranean, they imagined them as possessing the same faults and humors as mankind as well as a similar appearance. The actions of the gods illustrate these human characteristics. Hermes loves to gossip and spread news, Hera feels the need to comfort, Artemis laments the loss of life, Hephaestus wants to make the best armor there is, Zeus seeks out human lovers, Ares plans battles, Poseidon has a temper that shakes the ground, both Hera and Athena are jealous and can hold a grudge, and Aphrodite needs lots and lots of attention and feels guilt over the amount of damage she unknowingly created. She says at the end of the book after Troy has been ravaged by war and fire, “‘As for that…’She looked toward Troy, now vanishing into the distance. ‘I didn’t really mean for so much destruction’” (356). They are human yet not and their actions influenced the course of history.
I also enjoyed the reflective nature of the situation in Troy and the characteristics of the gods with the characters in the book. The “Gossips” of the cooking women in the palace reminded me of the three “Fates” who decide, measure, and cut the life threads of all mortals. The women gossiping were forever discussing what was going on around them and the latest news that influenced the Fate of Troy. The jealousy of the goddesses was reflected in both the lives of the Trojan princes and princesses and the lives of their servants in Marpessa, Xanthe, and Iason with Alastor and Polyxena thrown into the mix. The wills of the gods also mirrored the wills and actions of the different armies and warriors as they battle tirelessly for ten years. The micro/macro parallel marks a good work of historical fiction—throw in the aid of the Greek gods, and Geras creates an exemplary piece of historical fantasy.
What I liked about Geras’ interpretation, besides the accuracy to ancient texts, is the fact that she was able to capture the anguish of the war and the destruction of lives on both sides of the wall—Greek and Trojan. While the Greeks may come out more as the villains, there is enough detail on both sides of the story to suggest that both sides were fighting an impossible war that had negative consequences and feelings all around; both nations have good and bad warriors and people living among them, both nations have people who regret the destruction caused by the war both in regards to human life and the city itself. I liked the inclusion of Greek thoughts at the end of the book that let the reader into the minds of different Greek warriors as they sacked, burned, and looted Troy. These thoughts gave us thoughts to balance those of the Trojans—some happily following orders to burn and loot, others questioning the decisions, orders, and actions of those in command; “Of course we couldn’t afford to leave Hector’s son alive. I see that. But there’s ways and ways. Kid wasn’t more than a baby. He could’ve been smothered with a pillow….But he wasn’t….That’s what I’ll see. That’s what I can’t stop seeing” (337-338). The narrator, whoever he is, cannot stomach or forget the image of Astyanax being tossed over the wall and onto the sharp rocks below showing a sense of humanity among the brute force of his commander.
Overall, Geras takes a very complex tale with a great amount of required background knowledge and reworks it into a text that is accessible and, perhaps, more appealing to younger readers. It reads very much like a modern Soap Opera-esque drama—like The Hills of an ancient era. I think the characters deal with timeless issues of love, hate, jealousy, and the overarching destruction of war; issues readers can still identify with. I think my own distaste for the overly dramatic realm of daytime television clouds my reading to some degree and denies my absolute love for the text, but there are many redeeming qualities that place it among novels that I like and admire. I wish that I could have learned more about the characters—their pasts and presents—in order to form a greater bond with them, but alas, it was not to be. When it comes down to it though, I think Geras does an admirable job and I can see myself recommending this book or maybe using it as a companion text to classical Greek and Roman literature.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
CI 5442: Fantasy Response #1
While it appears that some people don’t like David Almond’s novel Skellig, I thought it was a lovely story that left me wanting more. The text seemed a little slow at first, but once Mina and Michael are brought deeper and deeper into contact with Skellig and Michael’s sister’s life is placed in greater danger, I found myself enjoying the story and relationships between the characters. I enjoyed Almond’s use of William Blake’s poems and images to create a creature who teaches Michael and Mina the power of faith and love by giving them wings of their own.
What I thought was interesting in the text were the similarities between Skellig and Michael’s baby sister. Both are described as having pale white skin and black hair and they both are near death. It is only through care from Michael and Mina that Skellig becomes strong enough to recover on his own and it is only through the care of the doctors at the hospital and the positive thoughts of Michael and his family that the baby is able to survive her premature birth. It is as if the two of them are connected by their angel-like characteristics and their need for care in order to survive.
Perhaps my favorite part of the book was when Mina taught Michael to listen deeply to the night around them. From that moment on, Michael is able to deep listen for the thing that means the most to him; his baby sister—especially her heart. Michael says, “I listened through all these noises, until I heard the baby, the gentle squeaking of her breath, tiny and distant like it came from a different world….I listened deeper, until I believed I heard her beating heart” (96). From that moment on, he connects the beating of his own heart to that of his sister’s, “I touched my heart and I felt the baby’s heart beating beside my own” (97). This feeling carries on through the rest of the book and Michael fears the worse when he can no longer feel the her heart beating with his.
When it comes to love, Michael and Mina learn that they can help heal Skellig through their love of him—love that transfers into care. Likewise, the love and care received by Michael’s sister helps her grow strong and live. Michael asks a doctor at the hospital if love can heal people to which the doctor replies, “‘Love is the child that breathes our breath/Love is the child that scatters death,’” a quote from William Blake. The reference to Blake links back to the image of angels and, thus, Skellig. The line also suggests that love is a part of us—like our own child—and that the existence of love can overpower death.
Love is a powerful and—in this context—innocent creation that links the ability of Skellig to give the children wings and teach them to fly. In the book, there are several instances in which shoulder blades are connected with angels. Michael’s mother says, “They say shoulder blades are where your wings were, when you were an angel….They say they’re where your wings will grow again one day” (38-39). Angels are typically associated with innocence, children, and guardianship and the relationship between Michael, Mina, and Skellig reflects this. I believe these connections partially explain the ability of Skellig to give Michael, Mina, and Michael’s baby sister the brief ability to fly. The strong loving relationship between them allows Skellig to give the children a taste of the angelic life they might have once known and will someday know again.
When it comes to the baby girl in the story, I think it is powerful that Almond decided not to give her a name until the very end of the story. During the text Michael is told the myth of Persephone and how she comes back from the underworld every year. Michael thinks a lot about this myth and connects it to his sister. It’s is as if he wants her to be a strong as Persephone in fighting to make it in the world. He even suggests naming her Persephone but the family ultimately decides upon Joy, and that is what she is to the family.
Almond’s novel both excited me and confused me. I liked the premise of the story and the characters themselves, but I want to know more about Skellig; what is he, why is he there, why was he in such a state when Michael found him, etc. When I finished the book I felt not completely satisfied and with these questions still ringing in my mind. While I can try and make connections between the text and my prior knowledge of Blake and angels, I think it would take another reading to get try and make more deductions from the text and possibly satisfy my curiosity. Like I said, I wanted more!
I admit that Almond does a great job in weaving a story that is dynamic and engaging and I loved Skellig’s somewhat harsh personality and its dichotomy to the typical imaginative supposition of what an angel is. Almond leaves the reader guessing whether or not Skellig really is an angel or if he is an otherworldly creature with mystical healing powers—something I didn’t really like, but some might like the mystery surrounding such a strange character. I think students would really enjoy the reading this story and the intriguing characteristics of the people in Michael’s life from the enigmatic Mina, the crass Coot and Leakey, to Michael’s innocent baby sister, Joy.
What I thought was interesting in the text were the similarities between Skellig and Michael’s baby sister. Both are described as having pale white skin and black hair and they both are near death. It is only through care from Michael and Mina that Skellig becomes strong enough to recover on his own and it is only through the care of the doctors at the hospital and the positive thoughts of Michael and his family that the baby is able to survive her premature birth. It is as if the two of them are connected by their angel-like characteristics and their need for care in order to survive.
Perhaps my favorite part of the book was when Mina taught Michael to listen deeply to the night around them. From that moment on, Michael is able to deep listen for the thing that means the most to him; his baby sister—especially her heart. Michael says, “I listened through all these noises, until I heard the baby, the gentle squeaking of her breath, tiny and distant like it came from a different world….I listened deeper, until I believed I heard her beating heart” (96). From that moment on, he connects the beating of his own heart to that of his sister’s, “I touched my heart and I felt the baby’s heart beating beside my own” (97). This feeling carries on through the rest of the book and Michael fears the worse when he can no longer feel the her heart beating with his.
When it comes to love, Michael and Mina learn that they can help heal Skellig through their love of him—love that transfers into care. Likewise, the love and care received by Michael’s sister helps her grow strong and live. Michael asks a doctor at the hospital if love can heal people to which the doctor replies, “‘Love is the child that breathes our breath/Love is the child that scatters death,’” a quote from William Blake. The reference to Blake links back to the image of angels and, thus, Skellig. The line also suggests that love is a part of us—like our own child—and that the existence of love can overpower death.
Love is a powerful and—in this context—innocent creation that links the ability of Skellig to give the children wings and teach them to fly. In the book, there are several instances in which shoulder blades are connected with angels. Michael’s mother says, “They say shoulder blades are where your wings were, when you were an angel….They say they’re where your wings will grow again one day” (38-39). Angels are typically associated with innocence, children, and guardianship and the relationship between Michael, Mina, and Skellig reflects this. I believe these connections partially explain the ability of Skellig to give Michael, Mina, and Michael’s baby sister the brief ability to fly. The strong loving relationship between them allows Skellig to give the children a taste of the angelic life they might have once known and will someday know again.
When it comes to the baby girl in the story, I think it is powerful that Almond decided not to give her a name until the very end of the story. During the text Michael is told the myth of Persephone and how she comes back from the underworld every year. Michael thinks a lot about this myth and connects it to his sister. It’s is as if he wants her to be a strong as Persephone in fighting to make it in the world. He even suggests naming her Persephone but the family ultimately decides upon Joy, and that is what she is to the family.
Almond’s novel both excited me and confused me. I liked the premise of the story and the characters themselves, but I want to know more about Skellig; what is he, why is he there, why was he in such a state when Michael found him, etc. When I finished the book I felt not completely satisfied and with these questions still ringing in my mind. While I can try and make connections between the text and my prior knowledge of Blake and angels, I think it would take another reading to get try and make more deductions from the text and possibly satisfy my curiosity. Like I said, I wanted more!
I admit that Almond does a great job in weaving a story that is dynamic and engaging and I loved Skellig’s somewhat harsh personality and its dichotomy to the typical imaginative supposition of what an angel is. Almond leaves the reader guessing whether or not Skellig really is an angel or if he is an otherworldly creature with mystical healing powers—something I didn’t really like, but some might like the mystery surrounding such a strange character. I think students would really enjoy the reading this story and the intriguing characteristics of the people in Michael’s life from the enigmatic Mina, the crass Coot and Leakey, to Michael’s innocent baby sister, Joy.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
CI 5442: Historical Fiction Reponse
The novel Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata turned out to be exactly as the segments of reviews printed on the back cover stated it to be; it shines and speaks to readers as Kadohata tells Katie Takeshima’s bittersweet story of family, love, and loss. Kadohata is able to see the world through the eyes of a young child in the 1950’s who is forced to make many difficult adjustments in the young life. The deep family relationships bring the characters into perspective; Kadohata details the account of a dynamic family struggling to make a brighter future.
I absolutely love the title of the book, Kira-Kira; before I even knew what it meant, the lyrical quality drew me in. Within the first few pages readers are told that kira-kira is Japanese for “glittering,” such a simple yet prolific word. Lynn tells Katie that the sky is kira-kira because “‘the color is deep but see-through both at the same time’” just like the ocean and people’s eyes (3). As a curious reader, I wanted to know why this word was so important—why was it chosen as the title for this book? It wasn’t until much later in the text that I determined why I thought Kadohata chose this word for the title; to me it represented to relationship between Katie and Lynn as well as Lynn’s “theme.”
The relationship between Katie and Lynn is fascinating. The two are inseparable and Lynn always ensures that her sister is cared for, a duty that Lynn takes very seriously. Lynn is the one that looks out for Katie and has “serious talks” with her; Lynn tells Katie that they are moving to Georgia, that Katie might not make friends at school because of prejudices against them, and she tells Katie when their mother is pregnant. While Lynn takes care of Katie, Katie idolizes Lynn. She looks up to her as a genius and friend. They spend a lot of time looking at the sky, making wishes and promises about their future lives, and worrying about their parents. Katie agrees with everything that Lynn tells her and finally Lynn asks, “‘Do you agree with me all the time just because I say so or because you really, truly agree with me?’ I didn’t see the difference between the two things, so I just said I didn’t know” (60). Katie’s reply illustrates her undeniable love and admiration for her big sister.
Things changes when Lynn becomes friends with a girl from school and her behavior changes from being that of a friend to being that of an older sister, alone. The realistic shift from childish antics to boy-crazy attitudes that adolescents experience is chronicled through Katie’s eyes and is, thus, illustrated as a waste of time. Kadohata brilliantly explores this shift through Katie’s young eyes, expressing her confusion with Lynn’s behavior. She stops agreeing with Lynn and begins to feel like a child in her presence. Katie notices one day, “Whenever I try to talk to her, she made me feel immature, even if she didn’t mean to” (120).
While the relationship between Katie and Lynn changes, so does the relationship of the entire family. A major theme of the book—and the Takeshima family—is duty. Katie’s parents know it is their duty to do what is best for their family and provide them with the things they need; this duty drives the family from Iowa to Georgia, it pushes Katie’s parents to work hours and hours each week I order to save enough money to buy a house, it causes them to take out a loan from the bank in order to get that house—something they would never have done if not for Lynn’s condition. Lynn feels it is her duty to take care of Katie, and Katie feels it is her duty to take care of Sammy. When Lynn becomes sick, Katie believes it is her duty to take care of her. Even after Lynn’s death, both Katie and her parents try to protect and take care of each other the best they can. The relationship of the entire family is strained by Lynn’s sickness and threatens to disintegrate, but after Lynn’s death they go on. Katie remarks on how her father only took two days to grieve for Lynn before getting back into his normal routine, “He needed to think about his children who were still alive, because he was honor-bound to think of the living before the dead” (240). Through Lynn’s death the family is brought back together and each of them take something away from the experience.
I thought the setting of the story affected the characters as they struggle to overcome adversity. What is interesting about the book is that the characters are so realistic, that I would often forget the story was set in the 1950s until the girls would mention something relating to the prejudice they faced or specific time-telling things like how much money a dollar seemed to be. I would become so absorbed in the lives of the characters as simply people, that the time period would float in and out of my consciousness. I am not trying to diminish the significance of the historical setting, but there are so many other aspects of the novel that intrigued me as well. Kadohata does create a setting that is realistic and imaginable—you can live it with Katie.
Kadohata’s book is about hope and the ability to achieve a brighter future. Lynn lived for the future and forced those around her to do the same; she loved to look at the sky, the infinite beyond that was full of the same possibilities as their futures. She was always talking about the great things she would accomplish in her life, the great things that Katie would accomplish in hers. It is by preserving this hope and remembering the infinite possibilities of the future that she was able to look at the world in a different way from those around her. Katie writes in her essay for school, “Lynn could take a simple everyday object, like a box of Kleenex and use it to prove how amazing the world is….This is the main theme of my sister’s life” (224). Lynn believed that everything in life could be described as kira-kira if you look at it the right way. Lynn’s death was a heart-wrenching event for her entire family, and yet they each grew from it in a positive way; they took something and made it beautiful, made it kira-kira.
I absolutely love the title of the book, Kira-Kira; before I even knew what it meant, the lyrical quality drew me in. Within the first few pages readers are told that kira-kira is Japanese for “glittering,” such a simple yet prolific word. Lynn tells Katie that the sky is kira-kira because “‘the color is deep but see-through both at the same time’” just like the ocean and people’s eyes (3). As a curious reader, I wanted to know why this word was so important—why was it chosen as the title for this book? It wasn’t until much later in the text that I determined why I thought Kadohata chose this word for the title; to me it represented to relationship between Katie and Lynn as well as Lynn’s “theme.”
The relationship between Katie and Lynn is fascinating. The two are inseparable and Lynn always ensures that her sister is cared for, a duty that Lynn takes very seriously. Lynn is the one that looks out for Katie and has “serious talks” with her; Lynn tells Katie that they are moving to Georgia, that Katie might not make friends at school because of prejudices against them, and she tells Katie when their mother is pregnant. While Lynn takes care of Katie, Katie idolizes Lynn. She looks up to her as a genius and friend. They spend a lot of time looking at the sky, making wishes and promises about their future lives, and worrying about their parents. Katie agrees with everything that Lynn tells her and finally Lynn asks, “‘Do you agree with me all the time just because I say so or because you really, truly agree with me?’ I didn’t see the difference between the two things, so I just said I didn’t know” (60). Katie’s reply illustrates her undeniable love and admiration for her big sister.
Things changes when Lynn becomes friends with a girl from school and her behavior changes from being that of a friend to being that of an older sister, alone. The realistic shift from childish antics to boy-crazy attitudes that adolescents experience is chronicled through Katie’s eyes and is, thus, illustrated as a waste of time. Kadohata brilliantly explores this shift through Katie’s young eyes, expressing her confusion with Lynn’s behavior. She stops agreeing with Lynn and begins to feel like a child in her presence. Katie notices one day, “Whenever I try to talk to her, she made me feel immature, even if she didn’t mean to” (120).
While the relationship between Katie and Lynn changes, so does the relationship of the entire family. A major theme of the book—and the Takeshima family—is duty. Katie’s parents know it is their duty to do what is best for their family and provide them with the things they need; this duty drives the family from Iowa to Georgia, it pushes Katie’s parents to work hours and hours each week I order to save enough money to buy a house, it causes them to take out a loan from the bank in order to get that house—something they would never have done if not for Lynn’s condition. Lynn feels it is her duty to take care of Katie, and Katie feels it is her duty to take care of Sammy. When Lynn becomes sick, Katie believes it is her duty to take care of her. Even after Lynn’s death, both Katie and her parents try to protect and take care of each other the best they can. The relationship of the entire family is strained by Lynn’s sickness and threatens to disintegrate, but after Lynn’s death they go on. Katie remarks on how her father only took two days to grieve for Lynn before getting back into his normal routine, “He needed to think about his children who were still alive, because he was honor-bound to think of the living before the dead” (240). Through Lynn’s death the family is brought back together and each of them take something away from the experience.
I thought the setting of the story affected the characters as they struggle to overcome adversity. What is interesting about the book is that the characters are so realistic, that I would often forget the story was set in the 1950s until the girls would mention something relating to the prejudice they faced or specific time-telling things like how much money a dollar seemed to be. I would become so absorbed in the lives of the characters as simply people, that the time period would float in and out of my consciousness. I am not trying to diminish the significance of the historical setting, but there are so many other aspects of the novel that intrigued me as well. Kadohata does create a setting that is realistic and imaginable—you can live it with Katie.
Kadohata’s book is about hope and the ability to achieve a brighter future. Lynn lived for the future and forced those around her to do the same; she loved to look at the sky, the infinite beyond that was full of the same possibilities as their futures. She was always talking about the great things she would accomplish in her life, the great things that Katie would accomplish in hers. It is by preserving this hope and remembering the infinite possibilities of the future that she was able to look at the world in a different way from those around her. Katie writes in her essay for school, “Lynn could take a simple everyday object, like a box of Kleenex and use it to prove how amazing the world is….This is the main theme of my sister’s life” (224). Lynn believed that everything in life could be described as kira-kira if you look at it the right way. Lynn’s death was a heart-wrenching event for her entire family, and yet they each grew from it in a positive way; they took something and made it beautiful, made it kira-kira.
CI 5442: Historical Fiction Reponse
Jennifer Donnelly’s novel A Northern Light offers a fascinating and insightful glimpse into the life of a young woman living in upstate New York just after the turn of the twentieth century. Not only does Donnelly expertly tell Mattie’s tale as she struggles to uphold the promises made to her mother while keeping her own dreams alive, but she is able to do so by cleverly juxtaposing the Mattie’s life with that of the actual, tragic life of Grace Brown. Brown’s story provides the perfect foil to Mattie’s resigned choices and forces her to re-evaluate the direction of her life.
The novel is written in alternating chapters of past and present that weave the story of Mattie Gokey with the tragic death of Grace Brown. This choice keeps the reader on the edge of their seat as they search for the story behind Grace Brown’s death and the story that has brought Mattie to this point in her life. It is interesting how starting with the end does nothing to detract from the flow or readers enjoyment of the text; it serves as a catapult into Mattie’s life and the circumstances that brought her to work at the Glenmore. The alternating chapters allow the reader to predict things about Mattie’s life and the events surrounding Brown’s death, only to change those predictions when another piece of the puzzle surrounding both women’s lives is retold. I loved this exchange between the book and me throughout my reading of the text.
Donnelly’s character, Mattie, is a dynamic and realistic figure who posits difficult questions, works hard for her future and to help her family, and fails as often as she succeeds. Mattie’s “realness” allows readers to connect with her and believe that she is someone who could have truly existed in 1906. She is young, spirited, and driven, and yet, she has family duties and social pressures that threaten her dreams. I was able to connect with Mattie, despite the distance of our existences and the differences in our situations, based on her determination and drive—even though people tell her “no” she pushes for the future she wants. There are other characteristics about her would connect her with other readers and aid in further establishing the sense of timelessness in the issues she faces, some of which are still faced by people in today’s society.
Just like the stories that were written by Mattie in the novel, Donnelly’s portrayal of life in the North Woods is dirty and realistic. Things are not “picture perfect” nor are they what they appear to be. When her friend goes into labor Mattie comments on the lack of truth presented about giving birth, “I have read so many books, and not one of them tells the truth about babies….There’s no blood, no sweat, no pain, no fear, no heat, no stink. Writers are damned liars” (93). Mattie wants to give voice to the people around her, the ordinary, everyday people she encounters, but just as Mattie finds her own voice being silenced by the dictates of society, the voices of the average citizens of the North Woods and the world appear to be missing from the histories. Only through Miss Wilcox does Mattie begin to experience the realistic—and often censored—writings of others. Based on those around her, her dual desires were all for naught, “Miss Wilcox had books but no family. Minnie had a family now, but those babies would keep her from reading….Some people…had neither love not books. Nobody I knew had both” (96-97).
The hope that Mattie has for a better future, a future that can somehow encompass all of these desires is claimed by Mattie to be “The Eighth Deadly Sin. The one God left out” (114). This was interesting to me because according to Greek mythology, hope was one of the things found within Pandora’s box; it was almost left inside the box after all the plagues were released into the world—plagues that would indeed be members of the Seven Deadly Sins club. It is sad to think that Mattie has gotten to such a point in her life that something as simple and innocent as “hope” could become paralleled to greed, sloth, wrath, envy, lust, vanity, and pride.
In the present tense chapters of the novel—those dealing with the death of Grace Brown and the discovery of the contents of her letters—Mattie at first plays into the idea that there was a tragic accident between the two lovers and that their “happily ever after” was taken away from them. As she begins to read the letters between the two, she learns the grim truth behind what happened on that summer day. She unearths in a letter a line that sounds very similar to the conversations she has had with Royal Loomis. Grace writes, “the world and you, too, might think that I am to blame, but somehow I can’t—just simply can’t think I am, Chester. I said no so many times, dear. Of course the world will not know that but it’s true all the same” (217). Mattie tells Royal one day, “‘Stop it Royal. I’ll jump out of the boat if you don’t, I swear I will’” (191), only to later think, “I knew I should stop them [Royal’s hands], stop him, find my voice and tell him no. But then the warmth of him…the smell of him…the taste of him, overwhelmed me….And so I said nothing. Nothing at all” (192). She has been in eerily similar situations as Grace and has fallen victim to the same sense of belonging and lust.
Donnelly did a great job creating a counter story to Grace’s about a girl who is able to find that voice and say “no.” Mattie goes off to live the life Grace Brown never got. When asked why she is leaving at such an odd time Mattie replies, “Because Grace can’t” (376). In the story, Donnelly gives life to Grace’s death by allowing Mattie a chance at freedom so cruelly denied to Grace; Mattie becomes the realization of Grace’s future hopes and dreams. Donnelly gives the ghost of Grace Brown a chance to renege on the mistakes and troubles of her life and explore the possibilities of a bright future through Mathilda Gokey—a farmer’s daughter with big city dreams, just like Grace.
The novel is written in alternating chapters of past and present that weave the story of Mattie Gokey with the tragic death of Grace Brown. This choice keeps the reader on the edge of their seat as they search for the story behind Grace Brown’s death and the story that has brought Mattie to this point in her life. It is interesting how starting with the end does nothing to detract from the flow or readers enjoyment of the text; it serves as a catapult into Mattie’s life and the circumstances that brought her to work at the Glenmore. The alternating chapters allow the reader to predict things about Mattie’s life and the events surrounding Brown’s death, only to change those predictions when another piece of the puzzle surrounding both women’s lives is retold. I loved this exchange between the book and me throughout my reading of the text.
Donnelly’s character, Mattie, is a dynamic and realistic figure who posits difficult questions, works hard for her future and to help her family, and fails as often as she succeeds. Mattie’s “realness” allows readers to connect with her and believe that she is someone who could have truly existed in 1906. She is young, spirited, and driven, and yet, she has family duties and social pressures that threaten her dreams. I was able to connect with Mattie, despite the distance of our existences and the differences in our situations, based on her determination and drive—even though people tell her “no” she pushes for the future she wants. There are other characteristics about her would connect her with other readers and aid in further establishing the sense of timelessness in the issues she faces, some of which are still faced by people in today’s society.
Just like the stories that were written by Mattie in the novel, Donnelly’s portrayal of life in the North Woods is dirty and realistic. Things are not “picture perfect” nor are they what they appear to be. When her friend goes into labor Mattie comments on the lack of truth presented about giving birth, “I have read so many books, and not one of them tells the truth about babies….There’s no blood, no sweat, no pain, no fear, no heat, no stink. Writers are damned liars” (93). Mattie wants to give voice to the people around her, the ordinary, everyday people she encounters, but just as Mattie finds her own voice being silenced by the dictates of society, the voices of the average citizens of the North Woods and the world appear to be missing from the histories. Only through Miss Wilcox does Mattie begin to experience the realistic—and often censored—writings of others. Based on those around her, her dual desires were all for naught, “Miss Wilcox had books but no family. Minnie had a family now, but those babies would keep her from reading….Some people…had neither love not books. Nobody I knew had both” (96-97).
The hope that Mattie has for a better future, a future that can somehow encompass all of these desires is claimed by Mattie to be “The Eighth Deadly Sin. The one God left out” (114). This was interesting to me because according to Greek mythology, hope was one of the things found within Pandora’s box; it was almost left inside the box after all the plagues were released into the world—plagues that would indeed be members of the Seven Deadly Sins club. It is sad to think that Mattie has gotten to such a point in her life that something as simple and innocent as “hope” could become paralleled to greed, sloth, wrath, envy, lust, vanity, and pride.
In the present tense chapters of the novel—those dealing with the death of Grace Brown and the discovery of the contents of her letters—Mattie at first plays into the idea that there was a tragic accident between the two lovers and that their “happily ever after” was taken away from them. As she begins to read the letters between the two, she learns the grim truth behind what happened on that summer day. She unearths in a letter a line that sounds very similar to the conversations she has had with Royal Loomis. Grace writes, “the world and you, too, might think that I am to blame, but somehow I can’t—just simply can’t think I am, Chester. I said no so many times, dear. Of course the world will not know that but it’s true all the same” (217). Mattie tells Royal one day, “‘Stop it Royal. I’ll jump out of the boat if you don’t, I swear I will’” (191), only to later think, “I knew I should stop them [Royal’s hands], stop him, find my voice and tell him no. But then the warmth of him…the smell of him…the taste of him, overwhelmed me….And so I said nothing. Nothing at all” (192). She has been in eerily similar situations as Grace and has fallen victim to the same sense of belonging and lust.
Donnelly did a great job creating a counter story to Grace’s about a girl who is able to find that voice and say “no.” Mattie goes off to live the life Grace Brown never got. When asked why she is leaving at such an odd time Mattie replies, “Because Grace can’t” (376). In the story, Donnelly gives life to Grace’s death by allowing Mattie a chance at freedom so cruelly denied to Grace; Mattie becomes the realization of Grace’s future hopes and dreams. Donnelly gives the ghost of Grace Brown a chance to renege on the mistakes and troubles of her life and explore the possibilities of a bright future through Mathilda Gokey—a farmer’s daughter with big city dreams, just like Grace.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
CI 5442: Folklore Response
The collection of folktales found within Virginia Hamilton’s The People Could Fly: American Black Folktales were both surprising and familiar to me—a response that greatly intrigued me. While “Bruh Rabbit” and “Bruh Fox” were creations that were familiar to me through Disney World and animated cartoons, the remaining stories throughout her text were completely new to me, I had never laid eyes on them before, and yet, many of them I knew. How could this be so? What I learned by reading this collection of stories was just how interconnected the human race is and how similar we truly are.
The first story in the book, “He Lion, Bruh Bear, and Bruh Rabbit,” was the first to surprise me. In one of my other classes I was working with others on a presentation on how to use the postcolonial lens. The story we chose to build a lesson around was Stephan Crane’s short story “A Dark Brown Dog.” While the stories are very different, I was struck by the way in which they could be used to complement one another. Both illustrate the danger and power of men, particularly white men, in controlling those around them. I was very excited by this and we discussed it in our group. But the comparisons did not end there.
The animal stories reminded me of the many Native American stories and legends that I have encountered in various projects on Native American peoples and cultures over the years. The Trickster character is found throughout their stories and is common among many other cultures as well. I love the use of these stories to explain how certain, unexplainable things came to be—the alligator’s skin was my favorite! The stories under the section “The Beautiful Girl of the Moon Tower” could have been pulled straight from my collection of Grimm Brothers and Hans Christen Anderson fairy tales, especially “The Two Johns” which is almost exactly the same as the Grimm’s tale “The Little Farmer.” The stories within the next section are a combination of myth, medieval tales, and scary stories that resonate within me. It is the last section that was particularly moving and truly seemed to illustrate the uniqueness and similarity of human experience. These tales, because of their base in reality, were much more moving in their theme of freedom.
The connections I made between the stories collected by Hamilton and my own encounters with folklores of other cultures and time periods, I think serves to emphasize the connectedness found within the human experience. While every culture and every period has a unique identity and history that is important to maintain, remember, and respect, there are many things that are common among us all—the desire to explain the unexplainable; the use of stories to teach our children and families the dangers of the world; the desire to find happiness, freedom, and love; our fascination with magic and mystical beings; and the indomitable spirit of man. Hamilton’s stories bring all of this to the surface within a group of people and the timeless, universal themes found within these stories found connectivity through my own limited experience of the world.
While the stories kept my attention, what I found to be the most useful element of the text were the short segments after each story that provided background information and insight into the creation of each story. Not only did these pieces help explain the dialects, settings, and specific settings for each sections creation, they also provided analysis of the symbolism and meaning behind many of the characters and ideas within story. Hamilton’s ability to provide the different versions and histories of the stories helped me to understand more about the importance, significance, and formation of each tale. The stories in the last section that contained so much personal history for Hamilton and other descendants of former slaves were particularly poignant because of those solid connections between past and present. Hamilton’s ability to bring these texts together and ground them in reality makes this collection a significant piece of our world’s history and culture; a piece that will continue to entertain, enlighten, and educate the world for years to come.
The first story in the book, “He Lion, Bruh Bear, and Bruh Rabbit,” was the first to surprise me. In one of my other classes I was working with others on a presentation on how to use the postcolonial lens. The story we chose to build a lesson around was Stephan Crane’s short story “A Dark Brown Dog.” While the stories are very different, I was struck by the way in which they could be used to complement one another. Both illustrate the danger and power of men, particularly white men, in controlling those around them. I was very excited by this and we discussed it in our group. But the comparisons did not end there.
The animal stories reminded me of the many Native American stories and legends that I have encountered in various projects on Native American peoples and cultures over the years. The Trickster character is found throughout their stories and is common among many other cultures as well. I love the use of these stories to explain how certain, unexplainable things came to be—the alligator’s skin was my favorite! The stories under the section “The Beautiful Girl of the Moon Tower” could have been pulled straight from my collection of Grimm Brothers and Hans Christen Anderson fairy tales, especially “The Two Johns” which is almost exactly the same as the Grimm’s tale “The Little Farmer.” The stories within the next section are a combination of myth, medieval tales, and scary stories that resonate within me. It is the last section that was particularly moving and truly seemed to illustrate the uniqueness and similarity of human experience. These tales, because of their base in reality, were much more moving in their theme of freedom.
The connections I made between the stories collected by Hamilton and my own encounters with folklores of other cultures and time periods, I think serves to emphasize the connectedness found within the human experience. While every culture and every period has a unique identity and history that is important to maintain, remember, and respect, there are many things that are common among us all—the desire to explain the unexplainable; the use of stories to teach our children and families the dangers of the world; the desire to find happiness, freedom, and love; our fascination with magic and mystical beings; and the indomitable spirit of man. Hamilton’s stories bring all of this to the surface within a group of people and the timeless, universal themes found within these stories found connectivity through my own limited experience of the world.
While the stories kept my attention, what I found to be the most useful element of the text were the short segments after each story that provided background information and insight into the creation of each story. Not only did these pieces help explain the dialects, settings, and specific settings for each sections creation, they also provided analysis of the symbolism and meaning behind many of the characters and ideas within story. Hamilton’s ability to provide the different versions and histories of the stories helped me to understand more about the importance, significance, and formation of each tale. The stories in the last section that contained so much personal history for Hamilton and other descendants of former slaves were particularly poignant because of those solid connections between past and present. Hamilton’s ability to bring these texts together and ground them in reality makes this collection a significant piece of our world’s history and culture; a piece that will continue to entertain, enlighten, and educate the world for years to come.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
CI 5442: Poetry Response #2
Naomi Shihab Nye’s book of poetry 19 Varieties of Gazelle was an illuminating text that made me question some of my own beliefs about the Middle East and the world in general. The title does nothing to really prepare the reader for what they are about to encounter as they flip through page after page of thoughtful reflections, remembrances, and dreams. Not only does Nye’s book provide her readers with an insider’s look into life as Middle Easterner, she also provides deep insight into the often forgotten and misunderstood culture of a faraway land. Nye uses her experiences and knowledge to create a bridge between different worlds and creates images that unite.
What I enjoyed the most about Nye’s poetry was the sense of self that is examined and reflected in many of the poems about either her own experiences or the experiences of her family and friends from around the world. Nye illustrates the struggle of many to remain true to their family’s and culture’s beliefs within the ever-expanding reach of the western world. In their struggle though, many are able to find a balance and accept the old with the new. Her father is able to live in America with his daughters and constantly tells them how lucky they are to have opportunity and freedom in the United States, and yet, he maintains many of the traditions of his own people within his new land. This struggle is felt by many, but especially those who come from cultures that are misunderstood by westerners in issues surrounding social mores and norms. I enjoyed learning more about Middle Eastern culture, especially the recurring theme of hospitality.
One of my favorite poems form the collection is “Red Brocade.” This poem not only brings up the importance of hospitality in Arabic culture and history, but also presents the reader with a strong desire to return to simpler times when sharing what you had was more important than pining for what you lacked. I love thinking that there was a time when a stranger would come to the door and you would care for him for three days “before asking who he is/ where he’s from/ where he’s headed” (40). A time when trust was given and received. My favorite lines of the poem offer the reasoning for waiting these three days; “That way, he’ll have strength/ enough to answer./ Or, by then you’ll be/ such good friends/ you don’t care” (40). By ending with the single line of “you don’t care” I felt a sense of hope that people could see beyond the differences and notice only the similarities between people, the things that make us human. Why should people care about the ways we differ when there are so many more ways that we are the same?
Continuing on with identifying the ways in which people are the same, I come to the other thing I noticed about Nye’s poetry that I really enjoyed. Nye is able to present the differences while providing readers with similarities. As I read the poems I could see the stories behind them in my mind. I knew that she was describing a place that I had never been before, but it was a place I wanted to visit. I wanted to surround myself with children running around in “little suitcoats/ and velvet dresses….eating 47 Jordan almonds,” (59) I wanted to see the gardens that have been tended so carefully, the grandmothers caring for their grandchildren, people laughing and singing. There were so many things that seemed a natural part of human existence within her poems, that although they were centered around people and places that I know little about, I know those feelings and experiences all the same; love, hope, fear, desire, all things that are a part of my life the way they are a part of all human experience—or at least they should be.
I think Nye’s collection of poems could teach the world a thing or two about understanding others. Even though the people and situations may be different the experiences are often startlingly similar. Her poems express a desire for peace and understanding between people and she brings to life the unseen, innocent victims of extenuating circumstance. She tells in a poem about “Mr. Dajani Calling from Jericho” in which he desires only letters and books, saying how even though bombs are being dropped on them from American planes, “I want you to know/ we never stop holding our branch of the olive tree/ even though for some it is such a little branch” (131). But, I think the quote on dedication page brings the point home for all, “If you look at the Muslim, Christian, and Jewish religions, their first commandments are the same: ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ It’s not taken seriously.”
What I enjoyed the most about Nye’s poetry was the sense of self that is examined and reflected in many of the poems about either her own experiences or the experiences of her family and friends from around the world. Nye illustrates the struggle of many to remain true to their family’s and culture’s beliefs within the ever-expanding reach of the western world. In their struggle though, many are able to find a balance and accept the old with the new. Her father is able to live in America with his daughters and constantly tells them how lucky they are to have opportunity and freedom in the United States, and yet, he maintains many of the traditions of his own people within his new land. This struggle is felt by many, but especially those who come from cultures that are misunderstood by westerners in issues surrounding social mores and norms. I enjoyed learning more about Middle Eastern culture, especially the recurring theme of hospitality.
One of my favorite poems form the collection is “Red Brocade.” This poem not only brings up the importance of hospitality in Arabic culture and history, but also presents the reader with a strong desire to return to simpler times when sharing what you had was more important than pining for what you lacked. I love thinking that there was a time when a stranger would come to the door and you would care for him for three days “before asking who he is/ where he’s from/ where he’s headed” (40). A time when trust was given and received. My favorite lines of the poem offer the reasoning for waiting these three days; “That way, he’ll have strength/ enough to answer./ Or, by then you’ll be/ such good friends/ you don’t care” (40). By ending with the single line of “you don’t care” I felt a sense of hope that people could see beyond the differences and notice only the similarities between people, the things that make us human. Why should people care about the ways we differ when there are so many more ways that we are the same?
Continuing on with identifying the ways in which people are the same, I come to the other thing I noticed about Nye’s poetry that I really enjoyed. Nye is able to present the differences while providing readers with similarities. As I read the poems I could see the stories behind them in my mind. I knew that she was describing a place that I had never been before, but it was a place I wanted to visit. I wanted to surround myself with children running around in “little suitcoats/ and velvet dresses….eating 47 Jordan almonds,” (59) I wanted to see the gardens that have been tended so carefully, the grandmothers caring for their grandchildren, people laughing and singing. There were so many things that seemed a natural part of human existence within her poems, that although they were centered around people and places that I know little about, I know those feelings and experiences all the same; love, hope, fear, desire, all things that are a part of my life the way they are a part of all human experience—or at least they should be.
I think Nye’s collection of poems could teach the world a thing or two about understanding others. Even though the people and situations may be different the experiences are often startlingly similar. Her poems express a desire for peace and understanding between people and she brings to life the unseen, innocent victims of extenuating circumstance. She tells in a poem about “Mr. Dajani Calling from Jericho” in which he desires only letters and books, saying how even though bombs are being dropped on them from American planes, “I want you to know/ we never stop holding our branch of the olive tree/ even though for some it is such a little branch” (131). But, I think the quote on dedication page brings the point home for all, “If you look at the Muslim, Christian, and Jewish religions, their first commandments are the same: ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ It’s not taken seriously.”
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
CI 5442: Poetry Response #1
Paul Fleischman’s Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices was a surprising and refreshing take on the age old poetry game. Fleischman was able to find a piece of middle ground between poems that are either too abstract for young adults and poems that don’t offer enough dimension to create a text that is enjoyable for all, teachers too. By incorporating the two different voices, Fleischman reminds his audience that poetry is often meant to be read out loud and with this book it is essential to the text and meaning.
Fleischman’s use of parallel lines of poetry that are meant to be read in tandem illustrate the oral tradition of all literature and revisits the lyrical history of poetry. The combination of two voices reading the lines together heightens the reader’s experience by adding to the rhythm and flow of the poem from beginning to end. I had to have my roommates read some of the poems with me in order to get the right effect, and although we struggled a bit at first, in the end the sound was excellent. At one point I had them reading the text while I sat and listened with my eyes closed. It was almost as if I was sitting in a movie theater or listening to headphones; the combination of two voices reaching my ears at different points and then simultaneously was a new way to hear a poem and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
One of my favorite poems was “Mayflies.” Not only does the poem provide the reader with facts about the mayfly’s short lifespan, it also takes the reader inside the mind of a mayfly to hear their thoughts as they live their lives for one day. It was hard for me not to feel some sympathy for the mayfly even though I know—or at least think I know—that they do not have thoughts the same way that humans do. Who knew that a pesky summer bug could make me ponder the relatively insignificant existence of insects and humans alike.
My other favorite poem was “Honeybees,” which told the bees tale from two different perspectives, that of the queen and that of a low-level worker bee. I enjoyed reading about the daily lives and feelings of these two different members of bee society; again, I found myself sympathizing with the poor worker bee who literally works all day while the queen is mostly pampered. In this poem as well, Fleischman is able to make the insects come to life and create emotions in his reader.
Both of these poems relate the struggles of insects in our world, but they also reflect the struggles of humans. In the grand scheme of things, humans and mayflies share a short lifespan in which the goal is to live life to the fullest. The honeybees live in a society in which one person controls the group, in the human world this is often also the case. If one looks at it through a socio-economic lens, the Queen bee represents the small percentage of people who control the world’s money and power. Fleischman does an amazing job in creating texts that provide information about insects as much as they mirror and give insight into the human condition.
I should also mention the illustrations in the text—by Eric Beddows— that accentuate the text. My favorite illustration is the drawing of the moth in “The Moth’s Serenade.” In the picture the accurate yet comic looking moth is clearly singing, eyes closed, and his first set of legs clasped together. He is clearly performing the very serenade that Fleischman has written as if it were his own. The combination of lyrical poems with beautiful—and sometimes amusing—illustrations makes this text worth the added effort in reading aloud.
Fleischman’s use of parallel lines of poetry that are meant to be read in tandem illustrate the oral tradition of all literature and revisits the lyrical history of poetry. The combination of two voices reading the lines together heightens the reader’s experience by adding to the rhythm and flow of the poem from beginning to end. I had to have my roommates read some of the poems with me in order to get the right effect, and although we struggled a bit at first, in the end the sound was excellent. At one point I had them reading the text while I sat and listened with my eyes closed. It was almost as if I was sitting in a movie theater or listening to headphones; the combination of two voices reaching my ears at different points and then simultaneously was a new way to hear a poem and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
One of my favorite poems was “Mayflies.” Not only does the poem provide the reader with facts about the mayfly’s short lifespan, it also takes the reader inside the mind of a mayfly to hear their thoughts as they live their lives for one day. It was hard for me not to feel some sympathy for the mayfly even though I know—or at least think I know—that they do not have thoughts the same way that humans do. Who knew that a pesky summer bug could make me ponder the relatively insignificant existence of insects and humans alike.
My other favorite poem was “Honeybees,” which told the bees tale from two different perspectives, that of the queen and that of a low-level worker bee. I enjoyed reading about the daily lives and feelings of these two different members of bee society; again, I found myself sympathizing with the poor worker bee who literally works all day while the queen is mostly pampered. In this poem as well, Fleischman is able to make the insects come to life and create emotions in his reader.
Both of these poems relate the struggles of insects in our world, but they also reflect the struggles of humans. In the grand scheme of things, humans and mayflies share a short lifespan in which the goal is to live life to the fullest. The honeybees live in a society in which one person controls the group, in the human world this is often also the case. If one looks at it through a socio-economic lens, the Queen bee represents the small percentage of people who control the world’s money and power. Fleischman does an amazing job in creating texts that provide information about insects as much as they mirror and give insight into the human condition.
I should also mention the illustrations in the text—by Eric Beddows— that accentuate the text. My favorite illustration is the drawing of the moth in “The Moth’s Serenade.” In the picture the accurate yet comic looking moth is clearly singing, eyes closed, and his first set of legs clasped together. He is clearly performing the very serenade that Fleischman has written as if it were his own. The combination of lyrical poems with beautiful—and sometimes amusing—illustrations makes this text worth the added effort in reading aloud.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
CI 5442: Realistic Fiction Response #3
John Green’s novel Looking for Alaska was more than I expected it to be. Right away I was intrigued by Miles as he fidgeted restlessly during his empty going away party. It was amusing to see his view of the high school experience shift as his choice of friends changed from who he sat with out of “social necessity” to those few he couldn’t bear to lose (Green 3). The moment that captured me was in the first few pages when Miles tells his parents why he has decided to attend boarding school; “So this guy, François Rebelais. He was this poet. And his last words were ‘I go to seek a Great Perhaps.’ That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps” (Green 5). Already, I knew as a reader that Miles was about to enter into an adventure that would change both his life and the way he sees the world.
When Miles arrives at his Culver Creek Preparatory School, it is clear by the imaginary conversation that he plays through his head that he is ready to change his image and reputation. He learns right away that there are certain rules that you must follow in order to successfully navigate life at Culver Creek; the main rules being, toughen up, don’t get caught, and don’t rat anyone out. Throughout the text, these rules play an important part in driving the characters and presents reader’s with an insider’s look into the workings of an adolescent society. In this society Green presents his readers with four central characters that change Pudge’s life: the Colonel, the strategic and honor-bound leader; Alaska, the moody, beautiful, and fearless prankster; and Takumi, the rapping, fox-loving tag-along; and Lara, the quiet, Romanian cutie. Each character has a distinct personality and position among the “gang.” By providing readers with such dynamic characters, Green is able to draw readers into the microcosm that is Culver Creek. I felt myself sitting alongside the Colonel, Pudge, and Alaska as they sat in the Smoking Hole puffing away on cigarette’s, I was there running alongside Pudge and Takumi as they lit firecrackers and ran through the dark woods surrounding the school, and I was there when Pudge walked away from the Sunny Konvenience Kiosk feeling selfish, hateful, sad, and confused. Green’s use of detail captures the audience in this adolescent world by giving using the reader’s senses and feelings to draw them in. He describes Alaska’s lingering scent in such a way that I could close my eyes and conjure the smell myself.
Another key feature of Green’s text is his development and reoccurring questions of human pain and existence. Mr. Hyde acts as a voice of reason and motivating force on their personal journeys of discovery. By first forcing them to question “What is the most important question human beings must answer?” he is setting up and providing scaffolding for one of the major themes of the book: the twisted labyrinth of life—what is it and what is the point? In consideration of Alaska’s essay and her tragic death, this becomes the second question of his course, “How will you—you personally—ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?” (Green 215). He tells them, “I am interested in how you are able to understand the fact of suffering into your own understanding of the world, and how you hope to navigate through life in spite of it” (Green 215). This question—coming after the unknown accidental or suicidal death of Alaska—is a heavy question that is difficult for the Colonel and Pudge to answer. The question is probing and as a reader I too stepped back in order to try and analyze my own reactions to such a question. How do I define the labyrinth and how can I continue living within its confusion and complexity.
The characters in the book come up with their own answers to that question based on their personal experience with Alaska—and I must say that I shared that experience with them in my own answer to Mr. Hyde’s proposition. Alaska’s answer had been “Straight &Fast,” an answer that led her to leave the world goodbye far too early (Green 155). While at first this answer appeals to both the Colonel and Pudge, they eventually come up with their own ideologies concerning the labyrinth in opposition to Alaska’s. The Colonel says, “After all this time, it still seems to me like the straight and fast is the only way out—but I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it” (Green 217). For all the regret, pain, and guilt that he has suffered, the Colonel has chosen life and all its pain over the escape found by Alaska. Pudge also comes to terms with living in the labyrinth realizing that, “we had to forgive to survive the labyrinth” (Green 218).
In his final paper, Pudge makes some of my favorite remarks from the text. He gives readers an immense amount of hope by presenting to them the awesome strength of a human being; faith. Pudge is able to accept his failings as a friend and yet he knows that he could let his grief draw him into “paralysis” as it did for Alaska, but he saw what this did for her and he decides to face his failures instead. He reminds the audience that while there are horrible and painful events in a person’s life, “Those awful things are survivable, because we are as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be….We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken” (Green 220). While he might be speaking specifically to other teenagers—Green’s audience—these words also resonated with me. During the text I experienced a few rough days of my own and when I read these words it reminded me of the power of the human mind and its ability to overcome great adversity. Pudge still believes in the Great Perhaps, “I spite of having lost her” (Green 219).
Overall, Green does a remarkable job in creating characters, emotions, sensations, and events that are relatable to readers. He frames his story around a boy who finds enjoyment in endings but ultimately understands that it is the middle that really counts. Pudge’s own discovery and the questions and challenges he must face force the reader to look within themselves. I loved this book because it had a little bit of everything and yet still managed to tackle difficult human ponderings in a meaningful way; “that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail” (Green 221).
When Miles arrives at his Culver Creek Preparatory School, it is clear by the imaginary conversation that he plays through his head that he is ready to change his image and reputation. He learns right away that there are certain rules that you must follow in order to successfully navigate life at Culver Creek; the main rules being, toughen up, don’t get caught, and don’t rat anyone out. Throughout the text, these rules play an important part in driving the characters and presents reader’s with an insider’s look into the workings of an adolescent society. In this society Green presents his readers with four central characters that change Pudge’s life: the Colonel, the strategic and honor-bound leader; Alaska, the moody, beautiful, and fearless prankster; and Takumi, the rapping, fox-loving tag-along; and Lara, the quiet, Romanian cutie. Each character has a distinct personality and position among the “gang.” By providing readers with such dynamic characters, Green is able to draw readers into the microcosm that is Culver Creek. I felt myself sitting alongside the Colonel, Pudge, and Alaska as they sat in the Smoking Hole puffing away on cigarette’s, I was there running alongside Pudge and Takumi as they lit firecrackers and ran through the dark woods surrounding the school, and I was there when Pudge walked away from the Sunny Konvenience Kiosk feeling selfish, hateful, sad, and confused. Green’s use of detail captures the audience in this adolescent world by giving using the reader’s senses and feelings to draw them in. He describes Alaska’s lingering scent in such a way that I could close my eyes and conjure the smell myself.
Another key feature of Green’s text is his development and reoccurring questions of human pain and existence. Mr. Hyde acts as a voice of reason and motivating force on their personal journeys of discovery. By first forcing them to question “What is the most important question human beings must answer?” he is setting up and providing scaffolding for one of the major themes of the book: the twisted labyrinth of life—what is it and what is the point? In consideration of Alaska’s essay and her tragic death, this becomes the second question of his course, “How will you—you personally—ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?” (Green 215). He tells them, “I am interested in how you are able to understand the fact of suffering into your own understanding of the world, and how you hope to navigate through life in spite of it” (Green 215). This question—coming after the unknown accidental or suicidal death of Alaska—is a heavy question that is difficult for the Colonel and Pudge to answer. The question is probing and as a reader I too stepped back in order to try and analyze my own reactions to such a question. How do I define the labyrinth and how can I continue living within its confusion and complexity.
The characters in the book come up with their own answers to that question based on their personal experience with Alaska—and I must say that I shared that experience with them in my own answer to Mr. Hyde’s proposition. Alaska’s answer had been “Straight &Fast,” an answer that led her to leave the world goodbye far too early (Green 155). While at first this answer appeals to both the Colonel and Pudge, they eventually come up with their own ideologies concerning the labyrinth in opposition to Alaska’s. The Colonel says, “After all this time, it still seems to me like the straight and fast is the only way out—but I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it” (Green 217). For all the regret, pain, and guilt that he has suffered, the Colonel has chosen life and all its pain over the escape found by Alaska. Pudge also comes to terms with living in the labyrinth realizing that, “we had to forgive to survive the labyrinth” (Green 218).
In his final paper, Pudge makes some of my favorite remarks from the text. He gives readers an immense amount of hope by presenting to them the awesome strength of a human being; faith. Pudge is able to accept his failings as a friend and yet he knows that he could let his grief draw him into “paralysis” as it did for Alaska, but he saw what this did for her and he decides to face his failures instead. He reminds the audience that while there are horrible and painful events in a person’s life, “Those awful things are survivable, because we are as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be….We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken” (Green 220). While he might be speaking specifically to other teenagers—Green’s audience—these words also resonated with me. During the text I experienced a few rough days of my own and when I read these words it reminded me of the power of the human mind and its ability to overcome great adversity. Pudge still believes in the Great Perhaps, “I spite of having lost her” (Green 219).
Overall, Green does a remarkable job in creating characters, emotions, sensations, and events that are relatable to readers. He frames his story around a boy who finds enjoyment in endings but ultimately understands that it is the middle that really counts. Pudge’s own discovery and the questions and challenges he must face force the reader to look within themselves. I loved this book because it had a little bit of everything and yet still managed to tackle difficult human ponderings in a meaningful way; “that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail” (Green 221).
CI 5442: Realistic Fiction Response #2
I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started reading Meg Rosoff’s novel How I Live Now, and while I enjoyed the book, I am still trying to come to terms with everything within its pages. One of the first things I had to get used to was the lack of punctuation with quotations. This confused me at first, but after a while it was something that I was able to become comfortable with. It wasn’t until later in the book that I realized the purpose of this technique—the retrospection of Daisy’s experience in England compared to later sections of the novel that are set in the present and thus can make use of direct quotes contained by conventional use of punctuation. This clever shift compliments Daisy’s story and allows readers to sense an amount of authenticity in the creation of the tale. By framing the novel in this retrospective way, Rosoff leads the audience through pages and pages of set-up before she is able to answer the title’s question and give the reader Daisy’s life now.
One of the things I struggled with in the text was its classification in our class as realistic fiction. Although Rosoff is able to create characters and setting that are set in the present and could be real, there is enough fantastical evidence to deny its entrance into the genre of realistic fiction. The first of which is the “magical” characteristics of Daisy’s cousins and sometimes even Daisy herself. Somehow, Edmond is able to hear Daisy’s thoughts. Right after meeting Daisy at the airport, driving her home with a cigarette in hand—at the age of fourteen—“he looked at me in his funny dog way, and he said You’ll get used to it. Which was strange too because I hadn’t said anything out loud” (Rosoff 4). Later we meet Isaac—Edmond’s twin—who is extremely apathetic, except when it comes to his own family or animals, and is able to “communicate” with animals. Then there is Piper who is constantly described as being part fairy and also possesses some sort of empathetic or communicative powers herself. Later, when the girls are separated from the boys, Daisy and Edmond are able to “communicate” across great distances. The only explanation that I can make is to remember that this section of the story was supposedly written during Daisy’s time spent in a hospital, recovering after her traumatic experience in England. Perhaps, her view of things is slightly more dramatic and magical because of a lingering wistfulness to return “home” that drives her every thought, but, that is only one interpretation.
The next issue I had was the non-platonic love relationship between Daisy and her cousin Edmond. Now, my hang-up with this is most likely a construct of my society which has forever claimed that relationships with cousins should be strictly platonic. While Daisy’s relationship with Edmond was something that did grow on me due to its genuine and sweet portrayals, I did keep waiting to find out that they weren’t really cousins and thus there love wasn’t “forbidden.”
The next issue concerned the war. This one was the easiest to internalize and accept. Rosoff is clearly making a political statement against the stupidity and yet, perhaps, impending war that will cross countries and divide nations. Throughout the novel it is made clear that no one knows anything about the war’s cause. This observation is set against the absurd behavior of most adults in the story who are unable to see the pointlessness of the war and only serve to fall victim to gossip and anarchy. I think it is interesting to note that only the children—who spend almost the entire novel successfully surviving without adults—are able to clearly the war for what it is. They see how ridiculous the behavior of the adults around them is and even when they try to assist adults, they fail because they are not taken seriously, leading to dire consequences. Jonathon tells Daisy how Edmond tried to get the people at Gateshead to listen to him; “The small community was too settled and too frightened to run and hide in the woods because of something in the air and the premonition of a couple of kids. It wasn’t enough to make them leave” (Rosoff 187-188).
Overall, the text seemed to resemble the framework of a dark fairy tale. The daughter is sent away by her father and stepmother, a stepmother who doesn’t love the daughter and controls the father. The daughter goes to live with a group of magical beings in the country. They begin to care for each other and as things are just beginning to go well, something monumental occurs and they are separated. After years of struggling to stay alive and return home, eventually our heroes are back together again, trying to mend their broken relationships with love. While I love this, and Rosoff creates this new type of fairy tale beautifully, it is still difficult for me to categorize as realistic fiction without providing provisions for Daisy’s mental state of mind.
What I absolutely loved about the text was the subtle-yet-not-subtle dialogue surrounding Daisy’s battle with an eating disorder. It is interesting to see into her mind and watch as she explains her behavior regarding food. I was impressed at Rosoff’s ability to sneak this into the text without it being obvious for quite some time. At first the reader learns of Daisy’s fear that her stepmother was trying to poison her—this was something I wrote off as a humorous “evil step-mom” kind of thing. Next, we observe her not eating after arriving in England; again, this can be explained by anxiety over being in a new place. Soon though, we hear the concern of the other characters and Daisy herself admits her relationship with food; “after a while I discovered how much I liked the feeling of being hungry and the fact that it drove everyone stark raving mad and cost my father a fortune in shrinks and also it was something I was good at” (Rosoff 44). After the war begins to take its toll, Daisy begins to change her mind about food. Suddenly, there isn’t enough and being hungry isn’t as enjoyable when forced upon her. Daisy sees how thin Piper became, “which once upon a time I would have thought was a good thing and now I thought was just what happened when you’re nine years old and don’t have enough food to grow properly” (Rosoff 130). Daisy has grown and understands the pointlessness of her previous relationship with food in the same way she learns to love others more than herself. This shift in Daisy’s character allows Rosoff to broach a very difficult topic. It is important that readers can identify with a character that is able to justify their behavior and is led into different thinking by their own realizations. Rosoff gives them a chance to see how Daisy’s eating disorder becomes ridiculous to her in her own time; it is a realization that is self-activated and not pushed upon her by an authority figure.
Rosoff was able to create a modern day tale that combines elements of reality and fae by drawing readers into a possible future for our world. I think I would need to read the book again and come to terms with the more unconventional aspects of the story before I could present it to a class—something I would like to be able to do in time.
One of the things I struggled with in the text was its classification in our class as realistic fiction. Although Rosoff is able to create characters and setting that are set in the present and could be real, there is enough fantastical evidence to deny its entrance into the genre of realistic fiction. The first of which is the “magical” characteristics of Daisy’s cousins and sometimes even Daisy herself. Somehow, Edmond is able to hear Daisy’s thoughts. Right after meeting Daisy at the airport, driving her home with a cigarette in hand—at the age of fourteen—“he looked at me in his funny dog way, and he said You’ll get used to it. Which was strange too because I hadn’t said anything out loud” (Rosoff 4). Later we meet Isaac—Edmond’s twin—who is extremely apathetic, except when it comes to his own family or animals, and is able to “communicate” with animals. Then there is Piper who is constantly described as being part fairy and also possesses some sort of empathetic or communicative powers herself. Later, when the girls are separated from the boys, Daisy and Edmond are able to “communicate” across great distances. The only explanation that I can make is to remember that this section of the story was supposedly written during Daisy’s time spent in a hospital, recovering after her traumatic experience in England. Perhaps, her view of things is slightly more dramatic and magical because of a lingering wistfulness to return “home” that drives her every thought, but, that is only one interpretation.
The next issue I had was the non-platonic love relationship between Daisy and her cousin Edmond. Now, my hang-up with this is most likely a construct of my society which has forever claimed that relationships with cousins should be strictly platonic. While Daisy’s relationship with Edmond was something that did grow on me due to its genuine and sweet portrayals, I did keep waiting to find out that they weren’t really cousins and thus there love wasn’t “forbidden.”
The next issue concerned the war. This one was the easiest to internalize and accept. Rosoff is clearly making a political statement against the stupidity and yet, perhaps, impending war that will cross countries and divide nations. Throughout the novel it is made clear that no one knows anything about the war’s cause. This observation is set against the absurd behavior of most adults in the story who are unable to see the pointlessness of the war and only serve to fall victim to gossip and anarchy. I think it is interesting to note that only the children—who spend almost the entire novel successfully surviving without adults—are able to clearly the war for what it is. They see how ridiculous the behavior of the adults around them is and even when they try to assist adults, they fail because they are not taken seriously, leading to dire consequences. Jonathon tells Daisy how Edmond tried to get the people at Gateshead to listen to him; “The small community was too settled and too frightened to run and hide in the woods because of something in the air and the premonition of a couple of kids. It wasn’t enough to make them leave” (Rosoff 187-188).
Overall, the text seemed to resemble the framework of a dark fairy tale. The daughter is sent away by her father and stepmother, a stepmother who doesn’t love the daughter and controls the father. The daughter goes to live with a group of magical beings in the country. They begin to care for each other and as things are just beginning to go well, something monumental occurs and they are separated. After years of struggling to stay alive and return home, eventually our heroes are back together again, trying to mend their broken relationships with love. While I love this, and Rosoff creates this new type of fairy tale beautifully, it is still difficult for me to categorize as realistic fiction without providing provisions for Daisy’s mental state of mind.
What I absolutely loved about the text was the subtle-yet-not-subtle dialogue surrounding Daisy’s battle with an eating disorder. It is interesting to see into her mind and watch as she explains her behavior regarding food. I was impressed at Rosoff’s ability to sneak this into the text without it being obvious for quite some time. At first the reader learns of Daisy’s fear that her stepmother was trying to poison her—this was something I wrote off as a humorous “evil step-mom” kind of thing. Next, we observe her not eating after arriving in England; again, this can be explained by anxiety over being in a new place. Soon though, we hear the concern of the other characters and Daisy herself admits her relationship with food; “after a while I discovered how much I liked the feeling of being hungry and the fact that it drove everyone stark raving mad and cost my father a fortune in shrinks and also it was something I was good at” (Rosoff 44). After the war begins to take its toll, Daisy begins to change her mind about food. Suddenly, there isn’t enough and being hungry isn’t as enjoyable when forced upon her. Daisy sees how thin Piper became, “which once upon a time I would have thought was a good thing and now I thought was just what happened when you’re nine years old and don’t have enough food to grow properly” (Rosoff 130). Daisy has grown and understands the pointlessness of her previous relationship with food in the same way she learns to love others more than herself. This shift in Daisy’s character allows Rosoff to broach a very difficult topic. It is important that readers can identify with a character that is able to justify their behavior and is led into different thinking by their own realizations. Rosoff gives them a chance to see how Daisy’s eating disorder becomes ridiculous to her in her own time; it is a realization that is self-activated and not pushed upon her by an authority figure.
Rosoff was able to create a modern day tale that combines elements of reality and fae by drawing readers into a possible future for our world. I think I would need to read the book again and come to terms with the more unconventional aspects of the story before I could present it to a class—something I would like to be able to do in time.
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