So I finally finished my first of the senior summer reading books! Ambitiously I purchased all six at the start of the summer; admittedly I knew that this would probably be the only one I'd finish.
I knew I wanted to read this book because so many of my students have read and loved it over the past few years. There's something about a book with such a range of appeal that makes me want to read it regardless of its merit. In some cases I have been bitterly disappointed. But All Souls is every bit as grievous and appealing as my students have promised.
What I like most about the book is quite straightforward: the story. The focus is essentially on the author's mother, her eleven children, and growing up in the projects of South Boston in the seventies and eighties. Socially, it is about this horrid mobster snitch, Whitey Bulger, and about the busing riots (and the book really does explore race in uncomfortable ways, with the author's eventual faith in humanity holding strong in spite of the horrific race and class warfare that leads to the difficult life people lead in poor communities, such as this urban one). This book also deals really honestly with poverty, drugs, clothing, music, cockroaches--in other words, the stuff that defines everyday life. There are no "frills and furbelows," and what is most amazing is watching the author grow up to discover that his purportedly idyllic and close-knit community is actually a crime-and-drug-laden war zone in which the poor are played upon for profit. And yet the layers of denial continue! But there are always lies that we tell ourselves about our choices, our habits, our lifestyles, our community--and seeing those lies shattered is paramount to shattering one's own identity, which is what I think happens to poor MacDonald. Not that he lets us fully see it in him--and, fortunately, he returns to have faith in Southie (and himself) in the end. This is not an easy feat, considering the pain and loss and lies he and his mother endured. But it's certainly not a story of triumph, or good winning out over evil, or the power of love, or hope, or anything like that which we would prefer to have happen. It's just about what happened, and why, and that's it. You know... kind of like life.
What I disliked about the book is more a matter of style than anything else, really. Yes, the prose is lacking the modern artistry and polish that contemporary authors usually package along with their abstract-meaningful matte cover art; but this narrative doesn't need that florid stuff because it has the storyteller's voice, which is what matters most with any book and at the same time is so rare. In fact, it drives me crazy to see the number of writers today who are gifted crafters of words, yet clearly lack the storytelling muse (and yet they still keep writing, and writing, and writing...). So that's what I really, really appreciate about this book. The only thing that bothers me--more in retrospect than while I was reading--is the distinct distance between this memoir and its author. The memoir is more about his family and the general feeling of Southie than about the author in particular; though clearly his life is shaped by his impressions, which is what he needs to share. But now I want to know so much more about him, since except for the disco clothes and The Rat (I didn't grow up in Massachusetts, but I've lived here long enough to remember The Rat! But I haven't really been to Southie ever) we don't hear much about thisMacDonald. It's almost as if he thinks his siblings' stories are more important; and yet he clearly seems to have a charmed life as the sort-of "seventh son." And he's the one with the courage and voice to tell the tale! But his mother is clearly the heroine of the story, and of course now I want to meet her... perhaps she's been on Oprah? The author's perspectives on race are also disturbing and troublesome--honest, yes; but still white and rather painful save at the end. So I don't know if I want to read MacDonald's new book, but I certainly am curious to see what it is about.
In all, All Souls is a sad and honest book. I really couldn't put it down; people were making fun of me for picking it up in snatches, just to read a paragraph--it was that kind of book. The best kind: a real book, not a forced one, that lives and breathes (and stops, at times) organically, of its own accord.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Second Family: How Adolescent Power is Challenging the American Family, by Dr. Ron Taffel & Melinda Blau
I know, I know... I shouldn't be reading these psychobabble books. But I really liked Dr. Taffel's Parenting By Heart, so I thought I'd check out his take on teens. And honestly? It was both a shocking and reassuring look into the world of young people today. Wow, do I feel old. And LUCKY.
Basically, the world of independence that we used to have to grow up and get a job to join is available around the age of ten or so these days. Parents/adults aren't much of a resource, because so often young people know more about navigating today's world than we do--it changes too rapidly. So whereas previous generations often had a real reverence for the wisdom of their elders, that's not as true today. Besides, marketing and money has changed the game--and if you can buy your own goods, what do you need the parents for? From online gambling to chat rooms to drugs, this book was a really disturbing look at why kids today fill the voids in their lives with bad habits--because ours is a "live and let live" society in which the family/school only serves as something to impose restrictions; and who wants those? So kids turn to their "peer group and popular culture" instead. And I find it most telling that pop culture is as important as friends--that's marketing at work for you! Essentially, though, adults are more important to kids than either side realizes--and so it's important to stay connected to your kids (this book was written primarly for parents, though he does mention teachers), even when they try to push you away.
One thing I don't like about this book is that Taffel gives pet names to his notions, such as the "empathetic envelope." Then again, the notions are pretty good, so I guess the names are rather irrelevant. But this book in so many other ways gave credence to my concerns about kids' lives today, and why it's so important to maintain expectations even in the face of opposition. Most of it is common sense nicely explained, and it's almost more of a book about contemporary, middle-class culture--a land of permissiveness, accessibility, moral relativism, and a lack of rituals for connection. While I often complain that these things make it difficult to be a teacher and a parent, they make it worse to be a child and adolescent!
In all, I learned a few important snippets:
that peer pressure is a myth;
that freedom is equated with comfort for most humans, and we always seek out what is most comfortable;
that suspending judgement about what kids do doesn't mean you can't have an opinion or an expectation;
that lying isn't considered wrong or even a moral issue any more, so kids (as well as adults) lie habitually;
that demanding respect is part of showing respect;
and that I want my son to grow up, preferably in a box, and definitely in the backwoods of Newfoundland, until he is thirty! Isn't there some Will Farrell movie about that one?
Basically, the world of independence that we used to have to grow up and get a job to join is available around the age of ten or so these days. Parents/adults aren't much of a resource, because so often young people know more about navigating today's world than we do--it changes too rapidly. So whereas previous generations often had a real reverence for the wisdom of their elders, that's not as true today. Besides, marketing and money has changed the game--and if you can buy your own goods, what do you need the parents for? From online gambling to chat rooms to drugs, this book was a really disturbing look at why kids today fill the voids in their lives with bad habits--because ours is a "live and let live" society in which the family/school only serves as something to impose restrictions; and who wants those? So kids turn to their "peer group and popular culture" instead. And I find it most telling that pop culture is as important as friends--that's marketing at work for you! Essentially, though, adults are more important to kids than either side realizes--and so it's important to stay connected to your kids (this book was written primarly for parents, though he does mention teachers), even when they try to push you away.
One thing I don't like about this book is that Taffel gives pet names to his notions, such as the "empathetic envelope." Then again, the notions are pretty good, so I guess the names are rather irrelevant. But this book in so many other ways gave credence to my concerns about kids' lives today, and why it's so important to maintain expectations even in the face of opposition. Most of it is common sense nicely explained, and it's almost more of a book about contemporary, middle-class culture--a land of permissiveness, accessibility, moral relativism, and a lack of rituals for connection. While I often complain that these things make it difficult to be a teacher and a parent, they make it worse to be a child and adolescent!
In all, I learned a few important snippets:
that peer pressure is a myth;
that freedom is equated with comfort for most humans, and we always seek out what is most comfortable;
that suspending judgement about what kids do doesn't mean you can't have an opinion or an expectation;
that lying isn't considered wrong or even a moral issue any more, so kids (as well as adults) lie habitually;
that demanding respect is part of showing respect;
and that I want my son to grow up, preferably in a box, and definitely in the backwoods of Newfoundland, until he is thirty! Isn't there some Will Farrell movie about that one?
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert
This book was recommended to me by a friend, and I wish I had read it at the start of the summer because it is so sad (at the beginning, at least) that it makes me feel much better about my own life!
Gilbert is a journalist and fiction writer who goes through a messy enough divorce to necessitate her taking a year off--which isn't really a year off, since it's a year to also be writing this book with a cash advance to do so--starting in Italy (the "Eat" section), then to her guru's ashram in India ("Pray"), and finally Indonesia ("Love"). While admittedly my favorite section was the first, it was encouraging to see this poor woman in a rather sad and pathetic state of loss and despair slowly pluck herself out. Of course, the rest of us have to go through crappy life stuff without the liesure of a year of reflection and focus... but Gilbert is actually, honestly funny, so there are lots of fun and interesting insights along the way. So far this is my favorite book of the summer (well, except maybe for Harry Potter).
I like the Italy part best, probably because it's the only one of the three that I have been to (plus I'm Italian so of course I think all things Italian are delicous in general). And also this section is about Italy's amazing food, and wine, and gelato, and other tasty treats available at all hours--in fact, my favorite memory of Rome is the huge, sweet dollar slices of watermelon (it was 50,000 lira pre-euro) available on the street stands all day and night (she doesn't mention them, which makes me wonder if they're still around). So Gilbert first left her problems mostly behind and wallowed in Rome, learning Italian and eating a lot, and then went on to her guru's ashram in India, which seems near an impossibility to folks like me, who would like to visit India but don't have a guru and have a hard time sitting still let alone meditating for more than about seven minutes. Gilbert chronicles her own struggles with this, and she has many epiphanies on her journey--she did in the Italy section as well, but she grows more serious and focused in India. The final section, Indonesia, is mostly about people, particulary Wayan and Felipe, and I think symbolizes Gilbert's return to a full life and connection with others--an integral part of her Italian and Indian stints was her self-isolation for the sake of preservation, and only after she has recovered from her past is she ready for what awaits her in her Indosian journey with a medicine man (and a medicine woman and an older diamond-dealer dude).
All in all, this is a sad but redemptive book that is, somewhat refreshingly, about a woman's search for God. Interestingly, Gilbert's focus on God lessens as her confidence in her faith and her connections to others strengthen, perhaps indicating our increased need for spirituality when we feel most disconnected? But it was refreshing to read an account of someone who wants to believe in a supreme deity, who goes through difficult times but ends in happier ones, and who conquers a few personal demons along the way.
Sort of a Huck-Finn-meets-Siddhartha, chick version. I really, really loved this book!
Gilbert is a journalist and fiction writer who goes through a messy enough divorce to necessitate her taking a year off--which isn't really a year off, since it's a year to also be writing this book with a cash advance to do so--starting in Italy (the "Eat" section), then to her guru's ashram in India ("Pray"), and finally Indonesia ("Love"). While admittedly my favorite section was the first, it was encouraging to see this poor woman in a rather sad and pathetic state of loss and despair slowly pluck herself out. Of course, the rest of us have to go through crappy life stuff without the liesure of a year of reflection and focus... but Gilbert is actually, honestly funny, so there are lots of fun and interesting insights along the way. So far this is my favorite book of the summer (well, except maybe for Harry Potter).
I like the Italy part best, probably because it's the only one of the three that I have been to (plus I'm Italian so of course I think all things Italian are delicous in general). And also this section is about Italy's amazing food, and wine, and gelato, and other tasty treats available at all hours--in fact, my favorite memory of Rome is the huge, sweet dollar slices of watermelon (it was 50,000 lira pre-euro) available on the street stands all day and night (she doesn't mention them, which makes me wonder if they're still around). So Gilbert first left her problems mostly behind and wallowed in Rome, learning Italian and eating a lot, and then went on to her guru's ashram in India, which seems near an impossibility to folks like me, who would like to visit India but don't have a guru and have a hard time sitting still let alone meditating for more than about seven minutes. Gilbert chronicles her own struggles with this, and she has many epiphanies on her journey--she did in the Italy section as well, but she grows more serious and focused in India. The final section, Indonesia, is mostly about people, particulary Wayan and Felipe, and I think symbolizes Gilbert's return to a full life and connection with others--an integral part of her Italian and Indian stints was her self-isolation for the sake of preservation, and only after she has recovered from her past is she ready for what awaits her in her Indosian journey with a medicine man (and a medicine woman and an older diamond-dealer dude).
All in all, this is a sad but redemptive book that is, somewhat refreshingly, about a woman's search for God. Interestingly, Gilbert's focus on God lessens as her confidence in her faith and her connections to others strengthen, perhaps indicating our increased need for spirituality when we feel most disconnected? But it was refreshing to read an account of someone who wants to believe in a supreme deity, who goes through difficult times but ends in happier ones, and who conquers a few personal demons along the way.
Sort of a Huck-Finn-meets-Siddhartha, chick version. I really, really loved this book!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling
Alas, how sad! The final Harry Potter book.
I admit that I'm not as enamored of the "story" as I was ten or so years ago when it began, but there are two things I love about the Harry Potter books that make me not ashamed to admit that I love them (since they are, by and large, childrens' books, or at the very least, not "elevated" fiction--the discussion of "low" versus "high" literature is always a useful one to have, btw).
1. It's amazing to witness such mass, international hoopla about a book in my lifetime. About books! How cool is that?
2. Universal themes and conflicts abound: life and death, good and evil, moral ambiguity, etc. And there's plenty more!
Narratively, I also enjoy the "shift" away from omniscience as the finale approaches--I remember this from the last few books, at least. As Harry gets less chagrined and seemingly starts to figure out what's going on, the narrative shifts away from his every thought until we are only acquainted, as his friends are, by his dialogue as to what he has discovered and figured out. It's symbolic, I am sure, of the great fight that he must fight alone--the willingness to face death. So I think this is an interesting writerly trick, which I appreciate.
I thought the plot was clever and riveting. I'm not much for suspense, but I plowed through this text at about one-hundred pages per hour (which means, by the way, that I am a fast reader and not a good one, since I apparently missed quite a few important details that my friends had to explain to me) because it was just that gripping. I loved finding out the truth about Dumbledore's death, I liked the itinerant camping of Harry and friends (though it did drag on a bit, come to think of it), I loved Ron's abdication, and o! how I wept at the death of Dobby (not to mention the others, whom I won't mention, actually, but how sad, sad, sad... I love when a book makes me cry, because it means I've been drawn irrevocably into the characters' world). Oh, yes, and I was kind of hoping the Dursleys would be permanently turned into hedgehogs or something, and they weren't.
The only part I didn't like was the "Nineteen Years Later" chapter ending; it was not necessary. I guess it added a little security, because otherwise we would wonder if Voldemort wasn't really dead (hey, it's not unprecendented). A friend of mine actually proposed that Rowling added this chapter to quell any notions people might have of another book. But I counter-theorized that maybe she was just introducing characters for her next series... At any rate, it was so happy-go-lucky, and the kids' names were so silly, that it just seemed corny. Little Albus, indeed!
Overall, this final book is probably the best in the series (though book three and book six also stand out to me) and is an ending befitting the most powerful literary "event" of our time. Even though in this witch-and-wizard-world of Rowling's there's a little too much "deus ex machina" run amok--that is, every time something doesn't make sense, Rowling can just invent a new reality; for example, "Oh, that's because you don't know about the Deathly Hallows!"--it's a bit of a cop-out, don't you think?). But how incredible is it that kids and grown-ups of all ages dress up, and have parties at midnight, and stay up all night for a book??? I think the momentum of it is impressive and exciting, and deservedly so. Hooray for Harry! In spite of his flaws (kind of a snarky main character, to pretend to be a bit British in my adjectives), he fights what we all fight--destruction, hopelessness, fear, despair, loneliness, and death... Not bad for a kids' book, eh?
I admit that I'm not as enamored of the "story" as I was ten or so years ago when it began, but there are two things I love about the Harry Potter books that make me not ashamed to admit that I love them (since they are, by and large, childrens' books, or at the very least, not "elevated" fiction--the discussion of "low" versus "high" literature is always a useful one to have, btw).
1. It's amazing to witness such mass, international hoopla about a book in my lifetime. About books! How cool is that?
2. Universal themes and conflicts abound: life and death, good and evil, moral ambiguity, etc. And there's plenty more!
Narratively, I also enjoy the "shift" away from omniscience as the finale approaches--I remember this from the last few books, at least. As Harry gets less chagrined and seemingly starts to figure out what's going on, the narrative shifts away from his every thought until we are only acquainted, as his friends are, by his dialogue as to what he has discovered and figured out. It's symbolic, I am sure, of the great fight that he must fight alone--the willingness to face death. So I think this is an interesting writerly trick, which I appreciate.
I thought the plot was clever and riveting. I'm not much for suspense, but I plowed through this text at about one-hundred pages per hour (which means, by the way, that I am a fast reader and not a good one, since I apparently missed quite a few important details that my friends had to explain to me) because it was just that gripping. I loved finding out the truth about Dumbledore's death, I liked the itinerant camping of Harry and friends (though it did drag on a bit, come to think of it), I loved Ron's abdication, and o! how I wept at the death of Dobby (not to mention the others, whom I won't mention, actually, but how sad, sad, sad... I love when a book makes me cry, because it means I've been drawn irrevocably into the characters' world). Oh, yes, and I was kind of hoping the Dursleys would be permanently turned into hedgehogs or something, and they weren't.
The only part I didn't like was the "Nineteen Years Later" chapter ending; it was not necessary. I guess it added a little security, because otherwise we would wonder if Voldemort wasn't really dead (hey, it's not unprecendented). A friend of mine actually proposed that Rowling added this chapter to quell any notions people might have of another book. But I counter-theorized that maybe she was just introducing characters for her next series... At any rate, it was so happy-go-lucky, and the kids' names were so silly, that it just seemed corny. Little Albus, indeed!
Overall, this final book is probably the best in the series (though book three and book six also stand out to me) and is an ending befitting the most powerful literary "event" of our time. Even though in this witch-and-wizard-world of Rowling's there's a little too much "deus ex machina" run amok--that is, every time something doesn't make sense, Rowling can just invent a new reality; for example, "Oh, that's because you don't know about the Deathly Hallows!"--it's a bit of a cop-out, don't you think?). But how incredible is it that kids and grown-ups of all ages dress up, and have parties at midnight, and stay up all night for a book??? I think the momentum of it is impressive and exciting, and deservedly so. Hooray for Harry! In spite of his flaws (kind of a snarky main character, to pretend to be a bit British in my adjectives), he fights what we all fight--destruction, hopelessness, fear, despair, loneliness, and death... Not bad for a kids' book, eh?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Digital Democracy: New Media & the Future of Democracy, by Jeff Chester
This has been a frustrating couple of reading weeks--you know the sort, wherein you have three overdue library books to finish, plus the book you actually want to read, plus the book you're supposed to be reading for school... so I feel as though I have been reading bits and pieces of several books, really. Here's one of them.
I heard about this book in a Ralph Nader interview I happened upon (NB: this reading journal is NOT a political forum, and my only "hidden" opinion/agenda is a general dislike of large corporations' hold over us). I thought the book might be useful for my fledgling-but-growing media literacy unit that I started last year (kinda sorta fits into American Lit, right? hmmm). And it will be--most specifically, though, one chapter.
To start, I did not and will not read this whole book. There are a LOT of names, mostly of bigwig men in the FCC and corporations, and corporate anything kind of dulls me out, to be wholly frank. I read the introduction, and some of the subchapters within the larger chapters, but there were whole chapters I skipped. The books makes no claim at being impartial--in fact, I think some of the biased language and tone used will lend an interesting angle to our discussion of the chapter when we read it, and whether or not Chester's premise--that being tracked and targeted very specifically by our media is bad for us--is actually correct. I love fleshing out both sides of a juicy argument!
So the chapter I liked best, and will hopefully be able to use in class, is called "The Brandwashing of America: Marketing and Micropersuasion in the Digital Era." Clearly not unbiased, but really informative about ways in which our choices are monitored (for example, how often do you think about cookies? I admittedly dream of chocolate-chip regularly, but rarely consider the software variety sending information from my computer to internet sources).
This chapter is essentially about how the new media is growing not in response to wealth of information, but rather to suit the needs of marketing and revenue growth for major media outlets and their subsidiaries. As I already mentioned, Chester's premise is that the lengths to which marketers are now able to go (such as researching brain scans to maximize the emotional impact of a commercial) to target specific audiences is a destructive by-product of the FCC deregulation that Clinton passed as part of the 1996 Telecommunications Act, which for the first time since 1934 removed restrictions on media ownership. This simply means that only a tiny number of large corporations control everything we see, hear, purchase, and--consequently--identify with and, gosh darn it, maybe even think. This is one of those "scary" books--with subheadings that invoke Big Brother--the predicts our dire future, but I have to admit that I, too, am not impartial, that my seeking out of this text and even the presentation of this unit to my students is because I somewhat feel that we are being "played" by the media. In general, our society is unaware of the degree to which we are being used. I don't know with any certainty that every aspect of our current media is always particularly harmful or bad--just that we should probably apprised of a few facts that we don't generally realize, such as:
1. Universities such as MIT, Harvard, and Stanford make significant contributions to media and marketing research;
2. Theres a system called Advertising Digital Identification that assigns a code to every ad from every medium to track effectiveness;
3. "behavioral marketing" is the name for using your online history to determine which ads you are shown;
4. Digital and satellite television gives you such features as "on-demand" programming, but it also records your viewing behaviors to report back.
The bottom line is to just be aware of the subtlety of marketing and marketers. After all, this is a significant change from just a few decades ago, and it's rather jarring for us old-timers. Yet I think some people might actually see some good in this adware stuff... But at the very least, isn't our privacy compromised? And marketing, I think (my opinion here), sometimes blurs the lines of authenticity to the point where we aren't sure what we want anymore because we're just buying into prepacked notions of who we are--and, more importantly in American transformation culture, who we'd like to be.
While this book would probably only appeal to people interested in the subject (and it would have been a great David Brudnoy interview back in the glory days of his radio show), I think we all have some re sponsibility to know exactly what effects companies like Viacom and AOL (are they even separate companies still?) have because they control nearly all the portals through which we receive information and what gets marketed.
It simply can't be good to get all your news from just one ubersource--hey, even "back in the day" you wouldn't always listen to the same town crier, would you? We need a little balance in a democracy, as this book so readily claims.
And now? Off to finish Fever Pitch and Dr. Faustus!
I heard about this book in a Ralph Nader interview I happened upon (NB: this reading journal is NOT a political forum, and my only "hidden" opinion/agenda is a general dislike of large corporations' hold over us). I thought the book might be useful for my fledgling-but-growing media literacy unit that I started last year (kinda sorta fits into American Lit, right? hmmm). And it will be--most specifically, though, one chapter.
To start, I did not and will not read this whole book. There are a LOT of names, mostly of bigwig men in the FCC and corporations, and corporate anything kind of dulls me out, to be wholly frank. I read the introduction, and some of the subchapters within the larger chapters, but there were whole chapters I skipped. The books makes no claim at being impartial--in fact, I think some of the biased language and tone used will lend an interesting angle to our discussion of the chapter when we read it, and whether or not Chester's premise--that being tracked and targeted very specifically by our media is bad for us--is actually correct. I love fleshing out both sides of a juicy argument!
So the chapter I liked best, and will hopefully be able to use in class, is called "The Brandwashing of America: Marketing and Micropersuasion in the Digital Era." Clearly not unbiased, but really informative about ways in which our choices are monitored (for example, how often do you think about cookies? I admittedly dream of chocolate-chip regularly, but rarely consider the software variety sending information from my computer to internet sources).
This chapter is essentially about how the new media is growing not in response to wealth of information, but rather to suit the needs of marketing and revenue growth for major media outlets and their subsidiaries. As I already mentioned, Chester's premise is that the lengths to which marketers are now able to go (such as researching brain scans to maximize the emotional impact of a commercial) to target specific audiences is a destructive by-product of the FCC deregulation that Clinton passed as part of the 1996 Telecommunications Act, which for the first time since 1934 removed restrictions on media ownership. This simply means that only a tiny number of large corporations control everything we see, hear, purchase, and--consequently--identify with and, gosh darn it, maybe even think. This is one of those "scary" books--with subheadings that invoke Big Brother--the predicts our dire future, but I have to admit that I, too, am not impartial, that my seeking out of this text and even the presentation of this unit to my students is because I somewhat feel that we are being "played" by the media. In general, our society is unaware of the degree to which we are being used. I don't know with any certainty that every aspect of our current media is always particularly harmful or bad--just that we should probably apprised of a few facts that we don't generally realize, such as:
1. Universities such as MIT, Harvard, and Stanford make significant contributions to media and marketing research;
2. Theres a system called Advertising Digital Identification that assigns a code to every ad from every medium to track effectiveness;
3. "behavioral marketing" is the name for using your online history to determine which ads you are shown;
4. Digital and satellite television gives you such features as "on-demand" programming, but it also records your viewing behaviors to report back.
The bottom line is to just be aware of the subtlety of marketing and marketers. After all, this is a significant change from just a few decades ago, and it's rather jarring for us old-timers. Yet I think some people might actually see some good in this adware stuff... But at the very least, isn't our privacy compromised? And marketing, I think (my opinion here), sometimes blurs the lines of authenticity to the point where we aren't sure what we want anymore because we're just buying into prepacked notions of who we are--and, more importantly in American transformation culture, who we'd like to be.
While this book would probably only appeal to people interested in the subject (and it would have been a great David Brudnoy interview back in the glory days of his radio show), I think we all have some re sponsibility to know exactly what effects companies like Viacom and AOL (are they even separate companies still?) have because they control nearly all the portals through which we receive information and what gets marketed.
It simply can't be good to get all your news from just one ubersource--hey, even "back in the day" you wouldn't always listen to the same town crier, would you? We need a little balance in a democracy, as this book so readily claims.
And now? Off to finish Fever Pitch and Dr. Faustus!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Between Camelots, by David Harris Ebenbach
My friend Trish loaned me this book with the caveat that the first story, which she had heard on NPR, was great, so she bought the book--but the rest of the stories? Not so great. Of course, she is right!
I read most of them (a few might fall under the category of "having been perused") and my overall disappointment in them is that they don't feel complete, nor are they effective "slice of life" snippets, either--most read like someone just clicked the off button too soon, or maybe they didn't click the off button when they should've, because not much conversationally is happening that's worth listening to.
The first story, "Misdirections," is sad and whole and metaphorical. I can totally relate to the have-a-heart mice traps thing, too. Plus it's a great example of how a complete story can be told well in one page.
The rest of the stories flip-flop perspectives, which I think is ambitious and brave. But it takes a little too much shifting for my brain to jump from the point of view of the old mom to the point of view to the young male teacher, and I rather started to crave a more neutral, undefined narrator who would let me ascertain the whole scene and not just one character's perception of it. Of course, since I didn't read this very carefully, I'm sure there are some stories like that and I just sleepily glossed over them a bit (I think I can remember one or two).
So, overall, some interesting stories but nothing too momentous.
I read most of them (a few might fall under the category of "having been perused") and my overall disappointment in them is that they don't feel complete, nor are they effective "slice of life" snippets, either--most read like someone just clicked the off button too soon, or maybe they didn't click the off button when they should've, because not much conversationally is happening that's worth listening to.
The first story, "Misdirections," is sad and whole and metaphorical. I can totally relate to the have-a-heart mice traps thing, too. Plus it's a great example of how a complete story can be told well in one page.
The rest of the stories flip-flop perspectives, which I think is ambitious and brave. But it takes a little too much shifting for my brain to jump from the point of view of the old mom to the point of view to the young male teacher, and I rather started to crave a more neutral, undefined narrator who would let me ascertain the whole scene and not just one character's perception of it. Of course, since I didn't read this very carefully, I'm sure there are some stories like that and I just sleepily glossed over them a bit (I think I can remember one or two).
So, overall, some interesting stories but nothing too momentous.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Prozac Nation, by Lauren Slater
This was another book from the summer reading lists. I just nabbed it from the YA section of the library because it looked short and speedy and marginally interesting. But in essence, it reaffirmed my already-pretty-concrete notion that no amount of evocative prose can rescue a sinking premise (illustrated at its height, perhaps, by Koren Zailckas' Smashed).
Basically, this is a memoir/diary--rather dated, at this point--of a woman with a history of mental illness who found the medication Prozac to be such a miracle cure that she was shocked at its efficacy. I know lots of people who suffer from varying forms of depression, some medicated and some not, but I think the perspective on medication has changed in the ten years since this book was published; Slater makes her connection to this medication a HUGE thing (and it really is, to the author; who am I to discount another's feelings? of course they're valid for her), whereas for most of the people I know, choosing medication (or not) is just one tiny first step of the puzzle. This whole book, which spans a decade, would today not merit much notice--again, because Prozac (and its friends with lesser side effects) have been around for more than two decades at this point. Hopefully some of the stigma and a bit of the mystery has been removed, but these issues are complex and the book doesn't really grapple with them. It's more about flashbacks to moments in Slater's life, though it never fulfills the reader's curiousity by telling her whole life story (there are hints of abuse, a not-mentioned-but-present father, etc).
The snippets in which her mother appears are rather interesting, personal history flashbacks--her mother was a forbidding, distant woman who clearly (though the author places no direct blame) is at fault for Slater being such a messed up kid. There's also no mention of her parents now that she's an adult. But what really made this book ineffective for me was its lack of scope and its basic jitteriness. Plus there's a disassociation and detachment between the writer and her reader that, while it bespeaks of her inaccesibility of self, also makes any connection really impossible for the average reader (such as myself!).
And for me, the greatness of a book almost always boils down to the distinction--and I can't remember where I heard this but I need to research it!--between "window" books and "mirror" books. The former show us windows to the world--even if they are about personal experience, or we seek to find and read something we can connect with, it can open a window to some new perspective. But every once in awhile, for comfort, we need "mirror" books, which just reflect back to us those pieces of ourselves we already know pretty well but find some comfort in reading about. This book is rather narrow and "mirror"y--even though I wasn't looking to relate, I was hoping to find more. I wanted to know what the choice to take medication really means to people. And I wanted a little more than a woman looking into her looking glass, and letting us read about it.
Basically, this is a memoir/diary--rather dated, at this point--of a woman with a history of mental illness who found the medication Prozac to be such a miracle cure that she was shocked at its efficacy. I know lots of people who suffer from varying forms of depression, some medicated and some not, but I think the perspective on medication has changed in the ten years since this book was published; Slater makes her connection to this medication a HUGE thing (and it really is, to the author; who am I to discount another's feelings? of course they're valid for her), whereas for most of the people I know, choosing medication (or not) is just one tiny first step of the puzzle. This whole book, which spans a decade, would today not merit much notice--again, because Prozac (and its friends with lesser side effects) have been around for more than two decades at this point. Hopefully some of the stigma and a bit of the mystery has been removed, but these issues are complex and the book doesn't really grapple with them. It's more about flashbacks to moments in Slater's life, though it never fulfills the reader's curiousity by telling her whole life story (there are hints of abuse, a not-mentioned-but-present father, etc).
The snippets in which her mother appears are rather interesting, personal history flashbacks--her mother was a forbidding, distant woman who clearly (though the author places no direct blame) is at fault for Slater being such a messed up kid. There's also no mention of her parents now that she's an adult. But what really made this book ineffective for me was its lack of scope and its basic jitteriness. Plus there's a disassociation and detachment between the writer and her reader that, while it bespeaks of her inaccesibility of self, also makes any connection really impossible for the average reader (such as myself!).
And for me, the greatness of a book almost always boils down to the distinction--and I can't remember where I heard this but I need to research it!--between "window" books and "mirror" books. The former show us windows to the world--even if they are about personal experience, or we seek to find and read something we can connect with, it can open a window to some new perspective. But every once in awhile, for comfort, we need "mirror" books, which just reflect back to us those pieces of ourselves we already know pretty well but find some comfort in reading about. This book is rather narrow and "mirror"y--even though I wasn't looking to relate, I was hoping to find more. I wanted to know what the choice to take medication really means to people. And I wanted a little more than a woman looking into her looking glass, and letting us read about it.
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