The End of the World As We Know It--Robert Goolrick

August 16, 2010
The End of the World As We Know It, by Robert Goolrick, is a memoir of one of the worst kinds of tragedies that can happen to a small child whose world is meant to be protected by the very ones who betray that trust. The aftermath of the abuse and the family's compilicity in protecting the facade of the perfect family at the expense of the well-being of the child is saddening and horrific.

At the risk of incurring the wrath of human rights activists, however, I'm going to attempt to separate Goolrick's actual experiences from his skill in conveying those experiences. His writing, though it may have served a purpose and been cathartic for him, perhaps should have been best left to a journal or diary, or perhaps even notes in his psychiatrist's file. Although he endures, as a four year old, abuse that certainly elicits empathy, we don't get to know the protagonist in any real way, or even know anything at all about the tragedy that so profoundly shapes who he is, until three-quarters of the way through the book. Up until that time, his 'big reveal', if you will, the aloofness of the character, the lack of any real knowledge of who he is and what makes him tick, makes it very difficult for a reader to connect with him or to care much about him. As a human being, once the reveal comes we understand why he is the way he is; as an author, it is too much of a risk to make ones readers wait until nearly the end of the novel to find out why we should care about him.

--Donna

Freakonomics--Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

July 7, 2010
When I pick up a book, I don't generally reach for non-fiction. However, I had been hearing about Freakonomics for quite awhile, and something about its approach was intriguing to me. I'm no economist, and I don't make it a habit to follow economic trends. However, sociology has always fascinated me, and the premise of this book is an interesting and accessible marriage of the two disciplines. The book's authors challenge long-held assumptions about cause and effect, particularly as seen in the world of economics, and analyzes a variety of sociological phenomena that can be traced as unseen influences on unexpected outcomes. I know, I know--it sounds a little dry and textbook-y, but the beauty of this book is the anecdotal approach. In an easy-going, straightforward manner, the authors draw connections between social events and issues that result in unexpected and less than obvious conclusions about economic repercussions. Definitely worth picking up.

--Donna

Catching Fire--Suzanne Collins

May 27, 2010

In her follow-up novel to The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins has not disappointed her audience. Catching Fire picks up back in District 12, with both Kaitness and Peeta sharing honors and wealth as co-victors of the last Hunger Games. Unfortunately, although life has been made easier for them and their families financially, Kaitness' daring plan to outwit the Gamemakers has angered President Snow, who sees her act as one of rebellion against the government. When Kaitness receives a visit from the President, he makes it clear that her final act in the Games has laid the ground work for an uprising against the government, and his sinister threats against her and her loved ones give Kaitness good reason to be wary.

This upcoming year being the 25th anniversary of the Hunger Games, called The Quell, a new twist is added in celebration. In a special broadcast to all districts, President Snow makes his proclamation: The Quell will not consist of new tributes--every district will be required to send two victors from previous years back into the Games to compete 'til the death. Kaitness, who still suffers nightmares from last year's Games, is faced with the certainty of having to be thrown back into the horror. She suspects President Snow's new rule is not coincidence; she is being punished with the very real threat of death so soon after she thought she had escaped for good.

She and Peeta find themselves chosen as the previous victors from District 12 to participate in The Games, so they are sent immediately to Capital City. After grooming and training, they find themselves back in the fray, up against formidable opponents from past years, as well as some older and more frail former victors who have either lost physical or mental prowess in the ensuing years, but who have nonetheless found themselves in the same harrowing position as Kaitness and Peeta.

In The Quell, the tributes encounter new trials created by the Gamemakers, form new alliances, re-think assumptions about one another, and learn once again what it is to face the horrific dangers of The Hunger Games. What makes this time even more difficult is that both Kaitness and Peeta have vowed to ensure the other's survival, even though it means self-sacrifice. Add to that a betrayal Kaitness never sees coming and an ending both powerful and unexpected, and Collins' audience will be holding its breath for the third novel in the series, due out in a couple of months. I know I can't wait to see the final showdown between Kaitness and President Snow.

--Donna

The Girl Who Owned a City--O.T. Nelson

May 19, 2010
Imagine a deadly virus has wiped out every human on earth over the age of twelve. What would become of the children left behind? O.T. Nelson's short novel The Girl Who Owned a City explores how children, if left to their own devices, might fare in a world devoid of the adults who once kept them safe.

As with many pieces of speculative fiction, the requirement for suspension of disbelief is great. There are problems raised within the novel that somehow seem to solve themselves or become non-issues as the storyline progresses. (An example? Where are all the bodies of all of these adults who have died? They just mysteriously vanished?) There's also the seemingly unbelievable ease with which our protagonist rises from ordinary every-day ten year old girl to leader of the city, commanding attention and negotiating the clandestine building of the fortress that will house the titular city and protect its citizens from outside attack.

Lisa is our protagonist. Initially, there is nothing spectacular about her, but she recognizes the need for action to protect herself, her brother, and her home from looting bands of child-thieves who are also seeking out whatever way they can find to survive. There are no caretakers anymore, and Lisa realizes that she must step into that role if she and her brother are to stay out of harm's way. Within a short span, she teaches herself how to drive, finds first a farm and then an entire warehouse store that has been left untouched by looters. (She is apparently the only one to have remembered its existence.) As she begins to stockpile goods for survival--she calculates that they can survive on what they find in the warehouse for up to a year--she also sees that if she is the only one with food and necessities, she will be the target for attack if she doesn't join forces with the other orphaned children of her neighborhood.

Lisa gathers together the child-inhabitants of her neighborhood and promises them safety and food in return for their allegiance and oath to work together in building up defenses against the gangs that are beginning to form in surrounding areas. Here the novel becomes a bit too heavy-handed and preachy, as Lisa none too subtly espouses (sometimes to her neighbors, sometimes merely aloud to herself) her philosophy of life. Life is good--fun, even--when one works to earn what they have. The fun of life is solving problems, and that is how one earns his or her possessions. This philosophy is one that Lisa, and by extension the author, continues to present as TRUTH throughout the novel, at the exclusion of all other viewpoints.

It's a very utilitarian approach to life, pragmatic and somewhat detached. The interesting thing is that this philosophy is in stark contrast to two other viewpoints, seemingly equally important, that Lisa shuns as at best a waste of time, and at worst, detrimental. Jill is a mother-figure of a child who has taken in some of the frightened orphans to live in her home. She takes care of them, looks after their emotional needs, and has the true heart of a humanitarian. This approach, according to Lisa, merely serves to coddle them and leave them helpless and vulnerable. It does, in fact, more harm than good. Although Jill is never quite convinced Lisa is right, for the protection of the children she is willing to work within Lisa's rules and guidelines. The second viewpoint is Craig's, who feels it would be valuable to relocate to the country farm and learn how to grow crops that could feed them all. His ideas of an agrarian lifestyle are nonsense to Lisa, who believes the first priority is to militarize and form a defense so strong that offense is not necessary against adversaries. Charlie, too, reluctantly joins forces with Lisa and abandons his idea in the interest of solidarity and protection.

The most interesting thing about this is that it does not seem that any of these things are mutually exclusive, though they certainly are presented in that way. Lisa does pay a bit of a price for not being as maternal as Jill; the kids think she's bossy and mean. However, the more serious consequence for not incorporating all of these approaches to building up a citizenry is the abandonment of farming as a viable form of self-reliance. This is entirely glossed over within the context of the novel, though. Despite the fact that Lisa initially estimates there is enough food in the warehouse to sustain their little group for a year, as the novel progresses we are taken through not one, but two years of their existence, and the original group grows in numbers as they recruit additional children into their fold. So how do they continue to feed all those mouths? If Craig had been allowed to begin farming, it would be logical that perhaps that's where some of the food was coming from. He wasn't, though, so we are supposed to believe that they simply have found another stash of food that had been unmolested by other bands of children foraging to survive.

Early on, Lisa decides that it is too difficult to adequately protect each individual's home in the neighborhood from gangs once her own home is attacked, and an epiphany leads her to contemplate renovating the nearby school into the fortress that will become their home. After nights of working in secret to prepare (during which time they find all the necessary implements to devise all manner of defense for the building and everything to provide for the needs of all the inhabitants), the entire neighborhood relocates to their new home. Predictably, a band of thieves discover the fortified building (but naturally they didn't see it until it was inhabited) and decide to take it for themselves.

The battle ensues, and for a time it appears the attackers have been successful. Lisa, thought to be dead on the battlefield, recovers and devises a plan to regain control of her city. And here, the biggest expectation of suspension of disbelief--when all is said and done, and Lisa is left to confront the leader of the opposition and she is at his mercy, she simply tells him that the reason the city shouldn't be his is that he didn't EARN it, didn't WORK for it. He should know that it would never be fun or satisfying to lead in this city because he wasn't the one who solved the problems and learned how to build it. He would always be afraid of losing it because it wasn't truly his.

And you know what? He buys it. Sees the wisdom of her words and walks away, and she wins her city back--just like that.

This is a young fiction novel, but I'm fairly certain that even my twelve-year-old self would have cried foul at that. Too easy, too black and white, too 'here is the lesson you're meant to learn.' There's not so much a sense of 'and they all lived happily ever after' as there was a sense of, 'see--I was right all along.' Speculative fiction though it may be, I expect some sense of reality when I spend time with my characters. And the truth is, these characters didn't behave like real people, conflicted and frightened and even desperate in the face of a potentially devastating future. The premise is a really interesting one, yielding rich possibilities to contemplate and weigh, even within the context of young adult fiction. The target age group is intelligent and merits a more substantive read than the author has provided.

--Donna

Letting Go, or Breaking Up is Hard to Do

April 25, 2010
I'm a little out of control as a collector of books. I've got hundreds of them, on bookshelves, in boxes, in my classroom. I've got books I've read again and again, and books I've read and would love to read again sometime, and of course I've got stacks and stacks of books that I heard about or read about or grabbed my attention in a bookstore at one point or another.

The problem, besides the obvious storage issue, is that I probably have more books in my possession that I can realistically read in my lifetime. I love to read, but I'm no speed reader, so even if people stop writing interesting books for me to buy or borrow RIGHT NOW, I'm not going to make it to all of my books. I've got to prioritize. For awhile, I rotated genres to help me decide what to read: first I'd read a classic that I hadn't gotten around to yet, and then a teen fiction piece (to help me make recommendations to my students), and then a contemporary modern novel. Often, as a matter of fact, I have all of these going at once---I pick one up according to my mood. I've gotten away from that particular system, but I still follow it loosely. I also throw in some non-fiction every now and again, but those aren't the ones I tend to be drawn toward.

For many years, I never picked up a book I didn't finish. I somehow felt that if I invested time in starting the book it would be somehow wasteful if I didn't follow it through. I'm an optimist, too, so I always wanted to give the authors the benefit of the doubt--if it got published, it was bound to get good eventually. Not so! Sometimes, they start off badly, and they just stay there. I recognize that some books get off to a slow start, having to set up an in-depth back story or highly descriptive setting integral to the plot that will eventually unfold. In some of these books, once we meet our key players and discover the journey they are on, we don't mind so much the hard work we trudged through in the introductory exposition to get to them. If, however, the characters are flat or unsympathetic or simply don't connect with the reader, you never forgive them that dry and uninspired trek at the beginning.

Five or six years ago, I ran into three such consecutive books, causing me to re-think my 'never put down a book once you begin it' philosophy. These were all highly received books by many people's standards; I was SUPPOSED to be able to appreciate them. And yet, there was nothing about these books that made me feel I'd gained something in persevering through--I only felt I had wasted my time. I read, in succession, Charles Frazier's Cold Mountain, Anne Proloux's Shipping News, and Frank McCourt's 'Tis. I had never read anything by the first two authors, but they were book club recommendations and I really tried hard to like them and to have something of significance to share with my group. I got nothing, and couldn't bring myself to like or care about the characters in the least, despite having gotten all the way to the ends of their books with them. And Frank McCourt I already had a connection to, because I read and completely loved Angela's Ashes. 'Tis, it seemed to me, was a lazy capitalization on McCourt's previous success and name recognition; the novel had very little to say and all but undid the fondness and admiration I developed for his character in his first novel. Ultimately, I realized that I have far too many books on my shelf to devote time and energy to the ones that become a chore for me. It's not unlike a relationship whose time has passed; when it's not a two way street, and you're not both contributing to the relationship, sometimes the best thing to do is to part ways.

So how do you know whether the book is eventually going to draw you in? I advise my students to give it at least fifty pages in before they abandon a book they're reading for pleasure. If, by that time, the characters have not made their impression, you are not likely to care about them in another three hundred pages. There are so many characters and worlds and lives to explore; I have given myself permission to set aside the characters that are better suited to someone else's acquaintance. It's okay to let go.

--Donna

Thinking in Pictures--Temple Grandin

April 20, 2010

Temple Grandin's book, Thinking in Pictures, is one I really wanted to like, because its subject is important to me. It's a non-fiction narrative about a highly successful woman whose expertise in her field (she has a Doctorate in Animal Science and has developed mechanisms for humane cattle handling that are widely used across the United States) is likely because of her autism, rather than in spite of it. Her unique way of processing information allowed her to visualize the way in which the animals she was working with would respond to certain stimuli, and therfore enabled her to see ways in which she could make changes to the big business of cattle handling (dairies, for example) that would make the cows calm and compliant in processing.

With her expertise, and using as her examples her experiences in the cattle industry, she gives her readers a glimpse into the different ways people with autism and Asperger's process information. She doesn't just focus on her own particular way of thinking, but on several. These different ways of thinking, if we are aware of them, can help us learn to communicate more effectively--whether it be in education or simply in social situations--with those who have autism or Asperger's. I think awareness is her key impetus here, especially since she has encountered in her lifetime opposition and misunderstanding, depsite her obvious intelligence and determination. Because she had a mother and a couple of key teachers who understood her way of thinking and encouraged her, she was able to capitalize on those differences and succeed.

The book is at times a bit disjointed and often repetitive, but I suppose that it's somewhat illustrative of the very thing she's talking about--this idea of seeing in pictures, or snapshots, or images. Sometimes when we flip through a photo album, we see we may have taken several that are quite similar, with the only variance being a slight shift in the body or a shade of change in the brow or the curve of the mouth. Rather than melding them all into one general description of the picture's subject, Grandin painstakingly describes each photo in her mental album, each image she sees, to detail her unique perspective. Unfortunately for the reader, it is often without segue, or without an explanation for how or why each photo is different, when it seems so similar on the surface. I suppose in that way we can see a little more clearly how her brain processes information. It did, however, make it a bit difficult for me to wade through the book (that, and my general lack of interest in cattle), being not possessed of a brain that processes information in this way. This, too, gives us insight though, as we get a little glimpse of how different it must feel for those with autism or Asperger's to make their way through each and every day in a world not geared towards their ways of thinking.

--Donna

No Exit--Jean-Paul Sartre

March 22, 2010

"Hell is...other people." In Sartre's existentialism view, this is quite literally true. No Exit is a play that explores the afterlife in a satirical and often humorous way, challenging us to think about the how we define ourselves and the context we build for ourselves in order to create meaning in our world.

At the outset of the play, Garcin has just arrived in the afterlife. He is conducted by a valet to his new 'accomodations,' which is something akin to a mid-level hotel room, albeit one to which he will be confined forever. Still, it's nice enough. The valet is amused by Garcin's queries as to the location of the burning pincers, the hot pokers, the other instruments of torture. Garcin is confused and not a little relieved to learn none of these are part of the environs he would inhabit for all of eternity. This would be much easier than he had anticipated--or so he thought.

Not long after, he is joined by two women, Inez and Estelle. None of the three knew each other in life, and they are left to wonder how they three came to be one another's eternal roommates. In attempting to make connections among themselves, they at first maintain the facade of innocence, feigning surprise at their fate. Soon enough, though, the ugly truth comes out, and they each see the other in all their naked and calculating guilt. They see the blackness and the cowardice in their souls, dependent upon each other to absolve them, to mirror back what they want most to see in themselves--justification.

But, as Inez says, "You are--your life, and nothing else." There is no justification, no way to defend oneself. And yet that is what they continue to do--to seek approval and affirmation from one another, all the while recognizing they have the power to withhold that affirmation from the other two, and thus keep the upper hand. It's a vicious circle, being more drawn to the lure of the power over others than to the desire to work together for a common cause, a greater good. Rather than subverting the desire to wield power over others, each becomes more fierce in attacking the character of the others, knowing what they seek is salvation in each other.

And thus they begin eternity. No end in sight, no change expected. A forever of looking for peace, and a forever of knowing it won't come. Who needs the fires of Hell? Hell is..other people.

--Donna