I'm a little concerned about Dave Barry. I've long been a fan of his quirky, albeit predictable, humor: throw some asparagus into the toilet! set the cat's farts on fire! (and such), and have read approximately 33/42 of his books (approximately). But now I'm concerned.
I remember back in Big Trouble, Dave had these frogs whose skin, when touched, transmitted some hallucinogen (I think - I read that a while ago and may have been hallucinating myself). Now, in his new novel, Insane City, the main character is ... marijuana. Oddly, though, only one character (a very sweet, lovable girl) every lights up a doobie - mostly, the characters indulge in pot brownies. And the drug use turns crusty old men into avuncular buddy-types, and forges friendships across the usual socio-economic borders (yes! I went to college) that prohibit the superwealthy from even meeting, let alone sharing hashish with, Joe Six-Pack. Or is it Joe Dime-Bag?
So what is Dave getting at here? We all need to loosen up and pot is the way? At least in edible form? (He does gently wag a finger at inhaling, at least more than ten times a day.) I don't know, and I don't think Dave knows, either.
In any case, Insane City was a fun read that will keep you turning pages right to the totally formulaic cheesy romantic ending (Dave? Dave? I wouldn't do that if I were you), and the sitcom-friendly "everything worked out in the end" wrap-up (even the Haitian refugees get married and start on the path towards citizenship! not kidding!). Hey, we all need a break from Faulkner now and then.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Book Review: The Queen of Katwe
It would be easy to dismiss Tim Crothers's The Queen of Katwe as just another feel-good, underdog triumph tale. And, make no mistake, it is exactly that - but it's a darn good one all the same. If a person can live in the most abject poverty and disadvantage imaginable and yet rise to junior chess champion of her continent, maybe we all can dare to hope. Maybe we all can take inspiration from Phiona Mutesi and do something with our lives, accomplish something during our brief stay on earth.
As you'd expect, though, the book lacks nuance and complexity where it needs it most. The author states in the epilogue that, upon writing a magazine article on Phenomenal Phiona, he knew he must expand it to book length and tell the whole story. Now, the book will only do good for Phiona (and possibly others in Katwe), but the story (at least as Crothers relates it) should have remained in the periodical realm.
He spends the crucial second chapter telling the rather confusing life story of the man who came to run the program that introduced Phiona to chess, and many other parts drag on as filler to take a rather simple story to book length. At the same time, Crothers pays no attention to the political realities of Uganda that foster the slums which make Phiona the rare exception to the rule of degrading and desperate poverty. He mentions Idi Amin in passing several times as if he were simply a former president, like Gerald Ford, and not the Uber-African despot. In the end, the book reads like an overlong magazine fluff piece, when it could have been a serious book about not only an exceptional girl, but also about the world which makes a successful girl something to marvel at.
As you'd expect, though, the book lacks nuance and complexity where it needs it most. The author states in the epilogue that, upon writing a magazine article on Phenomenal Phiona, he knew he must expand it to book length and tell the whole story. Now, the book will only do good for Phiona (and possibly others in Katwe), but the story (at least as Crothers relates it) should have remained in the periodical realm.
He spends the crucial second chapter telling the rather confusing life story of the man who came to run the program that introduced Phiona to chess, and many other parts drag on as filler to take a rather simple story to book length. At the same time, Crothers pays no attention to the political realities of Uganda that foster the slums which make Phiona the rare exception to the rule of degrading and desperate poverty. He mentions Idi Amin in passing several times as if he were simply a former president, like Gerald Ford, and not the Uber-African despot. In the end, the book reads like an overlong magazine fluff piece, when it could have been a serious book about not only an exceptional girl, but also about the world which makes a successful girl something to marvel at.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Book Review: Diana Wynne Jones, "Reflections On the Magic of Writing"
I came to Diana Wynne Jones's work in a roundabout way. Already a fan of Hayao Miyazaki's movies when Howl's Moving Castle came out, I was surprised to find that someone else's book lay behind the story, since Miyazaki has a way of owning everything he uses - his style and vision are so engulfing. The book was so, well, magical, that I went on to read three more of her novels.
Now we have a collection of essays and various other pieces by Jones, Reflections On the Magic of Writing, that, even for a casual reader of her work like me, not only exposes the influences and thinking behind her own writing, but solidifies her place among major 20th-century English writers of fiction.
Neil Gaiman contributes a heartfelt introduction, but his star power fades swiftly when Jones takes the stage and reveals her approach to writing children's literature, a method like that of a research psychologist:
From my window I can see a steep stretch of woodland ... I have watched it for five years now.
It is full of children who appear to be mad. A group of girls totter down the slope. ... anyone
who watches this wood, or anywhere else where children habitually play, will quite soon notice
a number of things, all of which ought to have great importance for anyone who is interested in
writing for children.
But Jones doesn't analyze: she embraces. She writes about Tolkien, Narnia, learning to read Anglo-Saxon, and a favorite of mine, the somewhat obscure but startlingly brilliant poet Mervyn Peake. She takes each in her arms as one would a child one adores, but without sentimentality or stooping to hero-worship.
What sets this book apart from all other posthumous essay collections is that it shines - these are no leftovers, or some last scraping at sales by a publisher. This collection sparkles, it crackles, it burns with life like the fiery burning bush that not only burns without consuming, but provides a place for the voice of the divine.
Now we have a collection of essays and various other pieces by Jones, Reflections On the Magic of Writing, that, even for a casual reader of her work like me, not only exposes the influences and thinking behind her own writing, but solidifies her place among major 20th-century English writers of fiction.
Neil Gaiman contributes a heartfelt introduction, but his star power fades swiftly when Jones takes the stage and reveals her approach to writing children's literature, a method like that of a research psychologist:
From my window I can see a steep stretch of woodland ... I have watched it for five years now.
It is full of children who appear to be mad. A group of girls totter down the slope. ... anyone
who watches this wood, or anywhere else where children habitually play, will quite soon notice
a number of things, all of which ought to have great importance for anyone who is interested in
writing for children.
But Jones doesn't analyze: she embraces. She writes about Tolkien, Narnia, learning to read Anglo-Saxon, and a favorite of mine, the somewhat obscure but startlingly brilliant poet Mervyn Peake. She takes each in her arms as one would a child one adores, but without sentimentality or stooping to hero-worship.
What sets this book apart from all other posthumous essay collections is that it shines - these are no leftovers, or some last scraping at sales by a publisher. This collection sparkles, it crackles, it burns with life like the fiery burning bush that not only burns without consuming, but provides a place for the voice of the divine.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Book Review: Garry Wills - "Why Priests? A Failed Tradition"
We arrived at Trinity United Methodist a few minutes late for Garry Wills's talk because we were chatting with Marisa Meyer while she signed my daughter's copy of her new book, Scarlet, at this year's Savannah Book Festival. Garry was already going full steam, and we had to creep along the balcony and ask a gentleman to move his coat in order to sit down (his umbrella clattered to the floor).
I always enjoy the challenge of reading an intelligent diatribe against something I believe in - Christopher Hitchens (God rest his soul) remains one of my all-time favorite authors. And, having read several of Garry Wills's works (What Paul Meant, What Jesus Meant, the one on Augustine, etc.) before, I bounced in my seat as I put a hold on his new book, Why Priests? (he likes titles with interrogatives, apparently) and bounced yet higher when I heard he would soon be visiting Savannah.
But, ultimately, I was disappointed by the blunt force of his argument against the priesthood - he made the error of starting with a position ("Down with priests!") and then searched out the Scriptures and history for random supporting evidence. What a shame for such an esteemed scholar. His primary thread of debate regards the absence of a Christian priesthood (as we now know it) in the time of Christ or the Apostles. What matters that, my friends? The doctrine of the Trinity (see C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity for how this belief all but defines the faith) did not develop for, um, millennia after God told Abraham to "kill me a son." The priesthood is no more far-fetched than Christianity itself.
Hopefully Wills returns to actual scholarship following this sterile invective, putting down his axe (to grind) and taking up the surgical knife of astute historical and religious analysis that made him such a respected author in the first place. He's welcome to take views contrary to Church teaching, but he must refrain from cherry-picking evidence in such a biased manner - he dwells on every last molehill of sin of priests and the Church without the slightest appreciation for the mountains of good they both raised. I look forward to reading him again with a smile of discovery rather than a puckered mouth of sourness.
Note: I had established this blog to cover educational issues, but there are issues with that concept. For example, I have both a legal and moral obligation to maintain my students' privacy, and it's difficult to discuss education without bringing up what happened at school. Therefore, I turn this ship towards another love: reading. We'll see how that goes!
I always enjoy the challenge of reading an intelligent diatribe against something I believe in - Christopher Hitchens (God rest his soul) remains one of my all-time favorite authors. And, having read several of Garry Wills's works (What Paul Meant, What Jesus Meant, the one on Augustine, etc.) before, I bounced in my seat as I put a hold on his new book, Why Priests? (he likes titles with interrogatives, apparently) and bounced yet higher when I heard he would soon be visiting Savannah.
But, ultimately, I was disappointed by the blunt force of his argument against the priesthood - he made the error of starting with a position ("Down with priests!") and then searched out the Scriptures and history for random supporting evidence. What a shame for such an esteemed scholar. His primary thread of debate regards the absence of a Christian priesthood (as we now know it) in the time of Christ or the Apostles. What matters that, my friends? The doctrine of the Trinity (see C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity for how this belief all but defines the faith) did not develop for, um, millennia after God told Abraham to "kill me a son." The priesthood is no more far-fetched than Christianity itself.
Hopefully Wills returns to actual scholarship following this sterile invective, putting down his axe (to grind) and taking up the surgical knife of astute historical and religious analysis that made him such a respected author in the first place. He's welcome to take views contrary to Church teaching, but he must refrain from cherry-picking evidence in such a biased manner - he dwells on every last molehill of sin of priests and the Church without the slightest appreciation for the mountains of good they both raised. I look forward to reading him again with a smile of discovery rather than a puckered mouth of sourness.
Note: I had established this blog to cover educational issues, but there are issues with that concept. For example, I have both a legal and moral obligation to maintain my students' privacy, and it's difficult to discuss education without bringing up what happened at school. Therefore, I turn this ship towards another love: reading. We'll see how that goes!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Down With Innovation!
Our school district superintendent is a fan of education writer Mike Schmoker. I decided to give him a read on the basis of this recommendation and his awesome name. Mike SCCCHHHHMMMMOOOOOOOKKKERRRRR. Mike, if you're out there, I want to hang with you. Can I call you Schmokey?
Anyway, here's a provocative yet surprisingly sensible quote from his book Focus, which I've only just started reading:
I immediately thought of Ben Franklin and his worship of Almighty Industry (i.e., hard work).
Too often in schools we are caught up in the latest trend, only to discard them soon after. So many cool things are inefficient at best and total time wasters at worst. Let's make a list: Edmodo, centers, Reading First, educational board games, online educational games ...
None of these are a substitute for what Schmoker calls "authentic literacy." Authentic literacy consists of reading, writing, and discussion. Clicking through some nonsense on Starfall does not teach kids to read, and I will defend that assertion to my dying breath. Otherwise, just replace us teachers with computers the way Edison thought his film projector would replace us. The time-sucking nonsense does not teach kids to read and comprehend. Teachers teach kids to read by teaching kids to read.
Simplicity and diligence. Dig it, my brothers and sisters. The Gospel of Schmoker.
Anyway, here's a provocative yet surprisingly sensible quote from his book Focus, which I've only just started reading:
" ... the key to success is not innovation; it is "simplicity and diligence" applied with fierce devotion to our highest priorities" (p. 9).
I immediately thought of Ben Franklin and his worship of Almighty Industry (i.e., hard work).
Too often in schools we are caught up in the latest trend, only to discard them soon after. So many cool things are inefficient at best and total time wasters at worst. Let's make a list: Edmodo, centers, Reading First, educational board games, online educational games ...
None of these are a substitute for what Schmoker calls "authentic literacy." Authentic literacy consists of reading, writing, and discussion. Clicking through some nonsense on Starfall does not teach kids to read, and I will defend that assertion to my dying breath. Otherwise, just replace us teachers with computers the way Edison thought his film projector would replace us. The time-sucking nonsense does not teach kids to read and comprehend. Teachers teach kids to read by teaching kids to read.
Simplicity and diligence. Dig it, my brothers and sisters. The Gospel of Schmoker.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday Morning
First, I have been a derelict blogger. I figured, who wants to read my spiel? Well, I have now realized, nobody if there's nothing to read. So I'm back on the job.
This past Saturday I began working a six-week program to teach reading and math for two hours in the morning.
A few observations.
I had a 1st grader, a 2nd grader, a 3rd grader, and a 4th grader. Never had that sort of mix before. Surprisingly, my lessons worked at all their levels of development, and I think it enhanced the experience for them - kids are generally sequestered by grade, so a change piques their interest.
Also, having a mere four students - with an excellent volunteer helping me, as well - allowed for the obvious: individualized attention. We accomplished everything I had planned despite a long snack/bathroom break in the middle of our time, and they all demonstrated mastery of the topics. What a dream!
Lastly, my boss impressed me tremendously. She read over my lesson plans in advance, and collected supplies and books she thought I could use (or stated that I needed). I should be that good! We all should!
This past Saturday I began working a six-week program to teach reading and math for two hours in the morning.
A few observations.
I had a 1st grader, a 2nd grader, a 3rd grader, and a 4th grader. Never had that sort of mix before. Surprisingly, my lessons worked at all their levels of development, and I think it enhanced the experience for them - kids are generally sequestered by grade, so a change piques their interest.
Also, having a mere four students - with an excellent volunteer helping me, as well - allowed for the obvious: individualized attention. We accomplished everything I had planned despite a long snack/bathroom break in the middle of our time, and they all demonstrated mastery of the topics. What a dream!
Lastly, my boss impressed me tremendously. She read over my lesson plans in advance, and collected supplies and books she thought I could use (or stated that I needed). I should be that good! We all should!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Step back, buddy
So my summer camp students say, "We want to have a talent show."
So I say, "Sure."
And it went superbly well because I stepped back and let them run it. Oh, yeah, I kept a finger on certain things - I vetoed their attempt to make it a competition with winners and losers, I figured out and operated the lights and audio system in the little auditorium - but mostly I just let them have their show.
When you say "sure" to kids, they have the opportunity to impress you.
One girl scheduled all the acts, went home and typed up an order of events, and then served as MC.
Another girl bought big award stickers and presented them to all participants afterward.
And the kindergarten class came to watch and laugh and cheer.
Then, at the end, someone said, "Let's have a dance party."
I said, "Sure."
And it was fabulously fun.
So I say, "Sure."
And it went superbly well because I stepped back and let them run it. Oh, yeah, I kept a finger on certain things - I vetoed their attempt to make it a competition with winners and losers, I figured out and operated the lights and audio system in the little auditorium - but mostly I just let them have their show.
When you say "sure" to kids, they have the opportunity to impress you.
One girl scheduled all the acts, went home and typed up an order of events, and then served as MC.
Another girl bought big award stickers and presented them to all participants afterward.
And the kindergarten class came to watch and laugh and cheer.
Then, at the end, someone said, "Let's have a dance party."
I said, "Sure."
And it was fabulously fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)