In the Dark of the Night by John Saul

In the Dark of the Night by John Saul

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

One of the things that John Saul does so well is make the supernatural seem real by inserting fantastic elements into an utterly believable story and makes it a thrilling ride. In this book, Saul explores teenage angst, summertime romance, class warfare, anxiety, small-town gossip and big-city politics, family dynamics and, oh yeah, the psychology of serial killers and the legacies they leave behind.

In the Dark of the Night is not for the squeamish. The body count ultimately rivals that of Carrie while the creepiness surpasses It. Thomas Harris would see a little of his Lecter in this chilling tale.

After getting a taste of the idyllic summer life at the Pines in previous years with his friends Kent Newell and Tad Sparks, Eric Brewster and his family finally has the opportunity to rent a house on Phantom Lake for the season. But their home is no ordinary cottage--it's a mansion whose previous owner, Dr. Hector Darby mysteriously disappeared ten years ago after the town's only other unspeakable tragedy. Eric begins to explore the unusual property before he and his buddies make some unreal discoveries. Macabre nightmares follow.

What makes In the Dark of the Night work so well is the way how effectively Saul captures each character through dialogue and actions. Other books I have recently read have been bereft of such details, but Saul scatters the seeds of suspense inside a seemingly ordinary adolescent struggle between Eric and local boy Adam Mosler over the affections of Cherie Stevens.

I highly recommend this book for those who like dark thrillers about serial killers.

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Review of The Sundance Kids

The Sundance Kids: How the Mavericks Took Back Hollywood by James Mottram

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This would seem to be the definitive book on independent filmmaking from 1989's sex, lies, and videotape to the mid-2000s.Using Steven Soderbergh's prolific and varied body of work as the foundation for the Sundance movement, Mottram looks specifically at the works of "mavericks" like Paul Thomas Anderson, David Fincher, Spike Jonze, Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Sofia Coppola, Kimberly Pierce and Wes Anderson to explore how the traditional Hollywood narratives have been upended. Of course, Mottram provides an extensive look at Quentin Tarantino's and Robert Rodriguez's works, as well. I especially enjoyed his examination of Charlie Kaufman and the screenwriting process. This book is a must-read for any contemporary film enthusiast.

The book is structured as a series of essays and articles framing each year's "class" from the Sundance Film Festival and the subsequent progression of each member. Soderbergh gets considerable focus as the "godfather" to these filmmakers by virtue of the splash that sex made in 1989. His career rises and falls and takes risks like none other, confirming the subjective nature of the movie business. Mottram is careful to note how Soderbergh's artistic endeavors seem to supercede the need for profits by the studios. It's fascinating how he shows that small films can, however, prove more lucrative than big-budget flicks.

This is the kind of work that makes one want to revisit each director's library of films, from Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums to Fincher's Panic Room; Payne's Election and About Schmidt to Russell's Three Kings; and everything by P. T. Anderson.

There are just two concerns of significance with this book. First, Mottram's apparent displeasure with the Motion Picture Academy awarding Oscars to some of the bravura acting performances at the expense of those found in films by the Sundance Kids. One cannot fault the Academy for those sleights without acknowledging the discourse regarding Hilary Swank's win (for her performance in Pierce's Boys Don't Cry) over Annette Bening's legendary work in American Beauty. Swank's performance was good, to be sure, but Mottram conveniently overlooks the fact that there have been a number of exceptional performances in independent and studio films alike.

My other complaint, however trivial, is that the Coen brothers are notably excluded from the majority of the book. There is simply a passing reference to The Man Who Wasn't There and little mention elsewhere, despite the fact that the Coens were arguably the most successful creators during the period covered in the book and certainly have provided a great deal of influence on the Sundance generation. These concerns aside, I would definitely select several sections of the book for use in a film studies class. For now, though, I will update my Netflix queue--I've got quite a few films to watch.



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Review of The Tortilla Curtain

The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


In The Tortilla Curtain, author T.C. Boyle brings us a modern retelling of Voltaire's seminal work Candide. The story focuses on two diametrically opposed couples and the changing demographics of suburban Los Angeles--namely, the varied consequences (positive and negative) of undocumented immigration. Just as Candide was enduring one malady after another while bumbling toward El Dorado, so, too, does each husband in his respective journey.

This is a thought-provoking satire that challenges what white suburban xenophobes believe about "illegal aliens" who enter the U.S. through its Mexican border. It is fascinating to see how Delaney, a self-proclaimed New York liberal and environmental activist, steadily turns against the Mexicans thanks to chance encounters with Candido. While he is suffering relatively minor misfortunes comparatively speaking, Delaney finds his life gradually becoming more and more disrupted by the actions and influence of Mexican immigrants, or so he perceives. But were immigrants responsible for the coyote that attacks the family dog?

The real hero of the story is Candido, who, like his namesake, is subjected to a Jobean-level of tragedy and misfortune and yet maintains (at times) "the best of all possible worlds" optimism that keeps him moving forward. Not only does he unwittingly trigger Delaney's downward spiral into rage by becoming a hood ornament, Candido manages to persevere through homelessness, robbery, relocation and the constant, looming threat of La Migra. He loses some sense of personal pride when his wife America is forced to climb out of the canyon to work while he recovers from the accident. Any stroke of luck is followed almost immediately castastrophe, each bigger than the last. Candido proves remarkably resiliant and prescient and ingeneous and resourceful, and yet is impossibly hapless, too.

America broods, as she is expecting Candido's child and has no one else she can rely upon in el Norte. After a series of calamities befalls the couple, America yearns to return to Mexico, where she could at least live with her father. Time and time again, however, she regains her husband's (misguided?) optimism and still wants to have that idyllic home and American Dream existence.

Boyle uses Delaney and his realtor wife Kyra's Arroyo Blanco development as a metaphor for the "protectionists" who want to keep out "the Mexicans"--meaning all Latin American immigrants--by building a gate and then a wall, just like the efforts to build a physical barrier along the Mexican border. Of course, the Arroyo Blanco wall proves a mere obstacle for those it is meant to keep out, while it succeeds at restricting the lives of those who live within its confines.

Overall, this is an enjoyable and darkly entertaining novel, one that skillfully takes a pointed look at racism while reflecting on the fact one's happiness is derived from his perception of his world. Definitely a book worth reading--I would definitely entertain the idea of using this book in the classroom.







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Remembering

It was two months ago today that we lost my grandmother, Milly Lambe. In honor of her, I have uploaded pictures from an old album of hers.

Getting paid to teach rather than paying for the opportunity

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to teach a class for the first time while on the payroll clock. Granted, it was little more than babysitting a few social studies classes, but there is definitely something to be said about earning a paycheck after so long working on this new career. As I told students while I was student teaching, I liked the idea of teaching so much I was paying (a lot of money) for the opportunity. Substituting yesterday was the opportunity to actually get paid instead. Will it be much? No. Did I really enjoy the day? No, but I did survive without too much collateral damage. It's fair to say that I learned a few things, not the least of which was that I'd much prefer a long term position to the daily guessing game of not knowing where or what I was teaching.

Today, I received excellent news: I don't have to submit to the daily Rubiks puzzle for at least six weeks. Starting on Monday, I will be back at the school at which I did my student teaching, with a full slate of English classes. Tomorrow, I am meeting with the teacher for whom I am covering, getting lesson plans and a pretty good sense of what is going on. It is a school I know well, and I'm happy to report that it was the English department head who made sure that I was on the short list of those to contact for the substitute position. My guess is that a successful stint will almost certainly lead to a full-time position in the fall. At the very least, I will be better able to schedule my life, balancing out the completion of my class, other interviews and responsibilities with my office position. There will be long days, but I survived it while student teaching, so I can do it now. Guess I now have something new to talk about at next week's college reunion!

The Pursuit of Happyness

Successful entrepreneur Chris Gardner writes a compelling autobiography that is far more scintillating and dramatic that the film version with Will Smith. That’s not to say the movie didn’t follow the book or that it lacked heart, but the substance of the book lays a much deeper foundation for the struggles that Garner would eventually overcome.

One such element is the description of Gardner’s childhood in Milwaukee during the sixties. He details a life of desolation among the city’s poor neighborhoods and the struggle to survive daily ordeals. When Gardner discusses the actions of his stepfather, one can almost hear the stepfather’s voice and the misery he would inflict on young Chris and his family. Older and trying to eke out a living in 1980s San Francisco, the elements and distance and level of poverty all set the scene for Gardner’s journey into fatherhood.


The characters come alive as the dialogue jumps from the page. Young Chris, at that point aspiring to be an actor, asks his mother for money, only to get a lively response: “Well, why don’t you just act like you got five dollars?” his mother gives sage advice like this that reverberates throughout the book. Gardner does a pretty good job of keeping his character believable, letting the stories tell themselves. While the accomplishments are amazing, they are believable because Gardner injects everything with humility, acknowledging his mistakes and not exaggerating his exploits.

Throughout The Pursuit of Happyness, Gardner deftly invokes passion while layering the steps that would establish his desire to be a father whose son was his top priority. His determination is riveting, drawing the reader to feel heartbreak when his describes being homeless while trying to take care of his son Christopher and earn his keep at Dean Witter. We learn about his studying medicine while in the Navy and how his aspirations to become a doctor hit roadblocks. We journey with Gardner when he meets his birth father and we gain insight into his eventually successful career managing investments. It’s a gripping tale and an excellent choice for teen readers.

Henry Aaron's Dream by Matt Tavares

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


There are a lot of books about Jackie Robinson, but this book has an interesting perspective--it looks at how Robinson's breakthrough to the Major Leagues was a seminal moment in the life of Henry Aaron.

The illustrations are incredibly rich with detail. I have at least two favorites: there is one in which Tavares has Aaron looking at the lineup posted in the dugout with his name in the leadoff spot; another has Aaron sliding in to second base, ahead of the tag being applied by Jackie Robinson. With the first, I recognized some of the players listed for both teams, an element of authenticity that reminds me that with specificity comes credibility. In the latter, I could not help but wonder whether people watching that play in the exhibition game had any idea of what lay in store for Aaron's career. I doubt that any would have believed that he would go on to become baseball's all-time home run leader by the time of his retirement.

Henry Aaron's Dream is much more than a baseball book--it is a marvelous recapturing of attitudes during the Civil Rights movement and a lesson in perseverence. It also reminds us how important it is to have role models and inspirational figures that lend substance to the dreams we pursue. One can only imagine the seismic impact of Barack Obama winning the presidency, the importance of breaking that glass ceiling for African Americans. We are another day closer to no longer referring to people as "the first person of color" to do this, or "the first woman to" do that, and so on. I find it intriguing that, when growing up, I never gave any thought as to Hank Aaron's race. The books always talked about about Robinson and his Dodger teammates (especially Roy Campanella), Larry Doby, Roberto Clemente, and guys like Minnie Minoso and Buck O'Neal. But Aaron's story is integral to understanding race as it impacted baseball, American sports and American culture in general.

This book gives the reader an importance glimpse as to Aaron's development prior to reaching the Show, and I think it is a must-read for baseball enthusiasts, as well as those who are studying African American history. I believe it merits consideration for all ages, although I should note that there are two uses of n-word that could spark trouble if not appropriately addressed. While the use of the word does lend authenticity to the story, it likely spells the end of read-aloud opportunities without changing the word. Some others may believe differently, but I'd suggest a 'courageous coversation' in regards to the implications of the word if it is read aloud.





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A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Set during the early part of the twentieth century, A Northern Light features Mattie Gokey, a bright sixteen-year-old-girl trying to balance her education with caring for her four sisters and father after the death of her mother. Her older brother Lawton has also left the family and Mattie struggles with taking care of the house and feeding everyone, particularly during a difficult Northeast winter.

While incorporating some of the events surrounding the death of Grace Brown—the inspiration for the Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy, as the book’s cover points out—the story remains focused on Mattie’s coming of age and her relationship with her teacher Miss Wilcox. Author Jennifer Donnelly does a tremendous job of illustrating the period, giving a sense of the family’s desperation and determination to succeed in spite of the elements. Mattie represents a glimpse of the challenges faced by young “independent” women, including the difficult decision of whether to continue schooling or to get married to Royal Loomis; the fact that she cannot choose both is a sure sign of the times.

How historically accurate is this book? The sensational case of Chester Gillette has been documented in Adirondack Tragedy: The Chester Gillette Murder Case of 1906 by Joseph W. Brownell and Patricia W. Enos, among other accounts, and proved to be one of the first “trials of the century.” Grace Brown was pregnant as the time of her death, and the letters that were given to Mattie in A Northern Light were based on the actual letters between Grace and Chester. Donnelly has placed Mattie at the Glenmore hotel, where Grace and Chester were staying Grace was found dead.

The book does not center on the tragedy described above. Rather, we see the efforts Mattie makes with her studies and the difficulty her father has in letting her go to work at the hotel. Mattie needed to work in order to earn money for her train ticket to New York, but her father wanted her to continue her role as mother to her sisters. Nothing is clear-cut about her decision to leave her family—Mattie likes Royal Loomis very much, but she knows that if she passes up the opportunity to go to Barnard College, she will never again have another chance.


Though there are times when the story drags a little, the richness of the characters and color of the period do keep us interested in Mattie’s plight. Her sisters, particularly Lou and Beth, are a riot, and the dialogue is snappy and endearing. Donnelly also uses an interesting device in a having a single word serve as the heading for each chapter, representing Mattie’s quest to learn a new word each day. We read along, curious to learn how the word represents that particular chapter.

This novel would appeal to junior high school and early high school students, especially those who enjoyed Little Women. It would be a prime selection for independent reading, though I could see it potentially being used in a local history class in Upstate New York. Donnelly includes notes after the book to clarify which factual elements she chose to use artistic license. For example, she writes that the letters given to Mattie by Grace Brown included all of the correspondence between Grace and Chester, but that in reality, only the letters Grace received from Chester Gillette were recovered at the hotel; her letters to Chester were found in his room when he was arrested for her murder. The historic roots of the story give it a little more credence, helping to establish the period for the young reader. That Mattie and her family are fictional does not take away from the fact that they are still representative of the period. The important thing when considering historic fiction is that the truth doesn’t betray itself. If the reader can detect blatantly false items that disrupt the historic continuity or the continuity of the story, then she will no longer be able to yield to that “suspense of disbelief” that characterizes a good story no matter the medium.



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Sold by Patricia McCormick

A brilliant book about the plight of young girls who are sold into prostitution. The format is superb, a series of vignettes provide glimpses into the daily struggles faced by Lakshmi as she thought she was providing for her family back in Nepal. I especially like the fact that McCormick doesn't explain what things really are--she lets the reader experience them as Lakshmi sees them. How wondrous and unnerving and incomprehensible the journey to India (Bombay, perhaps?) must have been for her, having never seen cars and trucks before. McCormick does a terrific job of establishing Lakshmi's youth and innocence in the beginning, and layering the months of experience on her in a way that makes her far more mature than her years by the end of the novel.

This might be a difficult novel to teach in class because of the sensitive subject matter, but I do think it would be quite educational for students (and teachers!). This would probably function best as a book club selection for mature high school readers, especially girls. I think it would be important to draw parallels between the forced prostitution in the novel and the similar circumstances of child trafficking in the U.S. I would also explore the events specific to the culture and climate of Nepal and how all of that influences the decisions that are made. One could also do a comparison between this book and others like Homeless Bird or Breadwinner (or even Memoirs of a Geisha!), examining the role of girls in their families as they reach adolescence.

If nothing else, this is a must-read, and after reading this one and Purple Heart, I'd highly recommend seeking out Patricia McCormick's other novels--I know I will!

Books, books and more books

I have been doing some reviews of books for a class that I am taking on young adult literature. Below is a review on a book I just picked up this week. Check it out, and let me know if you'd like to see more reviews.

Purple Heart by Patricia McCormick (Balzer & Bray, 2009)

This is a well-written look at a young soldier's life in the Iraq war, with language that is accessible for YA readers. In many respects, Matt Duffy, the protagonist, and his compatriot Justin are just kids, dealing with the ups and downs of life in combat. As the book begins, we learn that Matt has been "on the business end" of an RPG and is being evaluated for TBI (traumatic brain injury). The investigation into "the incident" dominates much of the early part of the novel, shedding light on the hierarchy within the military and the pressures faced by all to get the servicemen and women back in the field ASAP. I really like the way how McCormick contrasts the fears and risks for the troops with the teen worries about driving and school tests.

Overall, I think this is a book that could be used in a mature classroom to discuss the implications of war and the effects felt by all participants. McCormick doesn't get into the politics of the war; rather, she focuses on the circumstances present on the ground and the relationships between Matt and the others in his unit as they make their way through Sadr City. Purple Heart would definitely be a book to consider using, especially in a classroom that could handle some crude language and challenging topics.

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Digging Out

As you probably heard, it snowed a little in Chicago last week. Now, having grown up in Las Vegas, the concept of a Snow Day was utterly foreign to me. For Chicago students, especially Chicago Public Schools, there were at least myths that such an event could occur. While I am not in a classroom yet, I used my keen observation powers to notice that students were thrilled to have a snow day. My co-workers exhibited that same emotion. Truth be told, I was happy about the prospects of being able to sleep in--until I realized that I was going to have to start early with the shoveling. At one point I had grand visions of getting lots of homework done, cleaning and reorganizing the basement, and perhaps even being able to spend some time hanging out with my wife and son. Little did I know that I would end up shoveling nearly the whole day, from 8:30 am until 6 pm, with an hour-plus lunch break. I think I would rather have been at work...

The road to teaching has its challenges. I have been sending out applications since I received my certification. Job fairs are lined up, and I recently interviewed to be a sub for CPS. My mantra must be patience and perseverence. My goal was to spend the winter and spring getting hired; layering on a literature class was something I wanted to avoid, knowing the time and work commitment would be immense. Thanks to the visionaries at my university program, however, the lit course I needed to complete the masters is not slated to be available for the forseeable future. I received a call two days before the start of the current term that I could take an adolescent lit course that could stand in for the unavailable course; failure to take the class would be putting my degree in jeopardy, as it, too, won't be offered again for some time. Great. Nothing like having a few books to read every week, and then write reviews and do projects about them. As much as I love reading and sharing my opinions about things, it is clear that time to obtain books and complete said tasks is fleeting, at best, especially as a parent of a very active (and sleep-resistant) toddler. And then, in addition to the snow, I had another monkey wrench thrown into the equation.

Last week, I learned of the passing of my grandfather. While he will be missed, he lived a very long and productive life. At 88, he defied the odds--he lived 25 years after major bypass surgery before his heart finally gave out on him. He had the opportunity to establish meaningful relationships with his great-grandchildren, something very few people can say. The services for him were beautiful, filled with music and celebration. As I said to many, the silver lining was that the funeral served as a de facto family reunion. My dad and his four brothers were together at my grandparents' home for the first time in my memory, and quite possibly for the first time ever. My son, ever the precocious one, took it upon himself to ask my grandmother, "Where's Great Grampa?" My grandmother responded said, "He's gone... He's in heaven...I think." My belief is that her statement was more a reflection of metaphysical uncertainty and less the idea that my grandfather, her husband of well over sixty years, was headed in a different direction.

Add in all the driving required (especially with nearly two feet of snow on the ground), and I find that sleep is as fleeting as time. Yet somehow I must make sure that I get all my books read. Sure. Fat chance on that one. Especially when my toddlet keeps insisting I read Thomas the Train books instead of my required materials for class (even the picture books and fairy tales!). Hopefully, I'll manage, and this will be just another station on my journey to teaching.