I just got back from a 3 1/2 day trip to New York. While there, Sis and I went to four Broadway shows. At one point, I would have thought that excessive in the extreme. Now, I am determined that if I ever do go back to New York, I will see as many shows as possible. Museums are cool, as are skyscrapers and monuments—but I did not realize what an experience it is to attend a quality stage production.
This post really should have pictures. I might try to add some later, if Sis doesn't mind my stealing them. She's the photographer.
We went to The Fantasticks the night we arrived. Indeed. Good, clean, Shakespearean-derived, family-friendly fun. There is a reason it is the longest running show ever. But it was a good thing that was the first one, because it would have seemed tame and lame compared to the others. It was on a tiny stage, had a total of 10 people performing (8 actors and 2 musicians), and was a cute, clever little show. As long as you're willing to embrace the cheesiness, which I always am when it comes to musicals.
Because of Sis's fear of over-scheduling ourselves, we didn't plan on Phantom of the Opera. That was my idea, and she was not so excited about it, actually. We went to the ticket booth the day of and purchased half-priced tickets, but the seats were amazing. What I learned:
* Even if you pay four times as much for the good seats, you will enjoy the show ten times more than if you do nosebleeds. I will never do nosebleeds again.
* Sometimes the original cast isn't as good as later players. I can't imagine seeing and hearing a better group of singers/actors/performers than ours. I would not have believed such good singing was even possible had I not heard it myself—and not just from the leads. Let's be honest. Raoul has always gotten on my nerves a little, in spite of my traditional fascination for the clean-cut, honest-to-goodness nice guy. He's such a pretty boy. I didn't know that someone could actually give him a presence and make him real. This was masterfully done by Sean McLaughlin. He was rather wonderful. And the character of Madame Giry doesn't come through in the recording at all, so I was pleasantly surprised by Cristin J. Hubbard, who didn't sing too much but whose intensity complemented that of the leads. Carlotta was good; Sis pointed out that in this version she was actually a good singer. Additionally, André and Firmin were splendid. I loved the scenes with all the note-reading. They're kind of stupid if you just listen to them, but watching them performed is fun. And, finally, Hugh Panaro as the Phantom and Sara Jean Ford as Christine. Wow! Just ... wow. Looking at the press photos you would never expect that kind of talent. Again, I didn't even know that kind of talent existed.
* Musical theater is just as much about acting as it is singing. Duh, but true. This goes back to my previous statement about getting a good seat. When you can actually see the expressions on the faces of the players, and when the players are good, it becomes an experience beyond just a good show.
* Nothing really good in life can be packaged up and sold. The experience of a good show is one you have to have first-hand, in person. If you haven't, you can't say you like or dislike them.
* I think that Broadway shows are different from Hollywood productions in that they actually do find the serious talent, as opposed to the people with the most notoriety.
So even though Sis has seen the movie too many times, and we've regularly listened to the original cast recording since our early teens and have all the songs memorized, that show was above and beyond expectation.
Our third show was Spiderman. It hasn't officially opened yet; we got tickets to the pre-show, so there was a possibility of some of the LED display screens overheating and turning off, as well as other lighting and technical glitches. There is also all the hype about the injured crew members and the death of one of the people in charge. But our viewing went without a perceptible hiccup.
The reason you see Spiderman is for everything but plot. The music, particularly the Arachne songs, was great. Actually, the Arachne songs were heavenly. She was first introduced with beautiful acrobats swinging from the tops of the rafters, weaving gold banners as they swung lower and lower towards the floor. I was surprised at that, considering that they were composed by Bono and The Edge. Not that I don't think they're good, but I didn't anticipate their coming up with that sort of a sound.
The money that went into the show was obvious—display screens and set changes and stunt characters flying all over the theater. My expectation for Spiderman was high, and it didn't disappoint. Some of the show didn't quite come together as well as it might have, but I still liked it. Oh, and I just found out, from Sis telling me what was on Wikipedia, that they're still working on the ending. That makes sense, then, why it was a little lame.
And even though it won't be the same, I'm excited for when the recording is released.
The last show we saw was Wicked. Sis was particularly desirous to experience this one, as touring musicals don't make it to where she lives. I saw the tour a while back. I wrote about it on this blog, too. That was fun, but again, it was not the same as seeing the real thing. I don't have too much to say about it, other than that I liked it. A lot. We agreed that we liked our Elphaba, but not as much as we like Idina Menzel. Ours let the fervor of her delivery get in the way of her singing, particularly during the first half. A minor detail. Glinda was just lovely. I think, also, that there is a big difference between the show at home and when it's on tour, not just because of the talent factor, but the company's familiarity with the sounds of their own stage. The singing comes across more clear, easy to understand, and vibrant.
Yay Broadway! Yay New York!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Best is in the Beginning?
We watched the latest Wallace and Gromit short this evening. I thought it was pretty lame. And I'm even a fan of their uber-silly alien comic.
Maybe I get uncomfortable with stories where the chubby girl is the villain.
Mostly, though, it has caused me to think about artists, how some of them do their best work first, and some develop into their role as creators of classic works.
Which is better, I wonder?
A lot of people say Keats is only as famous as he is because his life was cut so tragically short and his work showed more the promise of genius than actual genius.
And then, there is James Joyce, whose Finnegan's Wake is an acknowledged work of genius that absolutely no-one understands.
Suffice it to say that my favorite claymation short remains A Close Shave.
"What's wrong with Wendsleydale?"
Maybe I get uncomfortable with stories where the chubby girl is the villain.
Mostly, though, it has caused me to think about artists, how some of them do their best work first, and some develop into their role as creators of classic works.
Which is better, I wonder?
A lot of people say Keats is only as famous as he is because his life was cut so tragically short and his work showed more the promise of genius than actual genius.
And then, there is James Joyce, whose Finnegan's Wake is an acknowledged work of genius that absolutely no-one understands.
Suffice it to say that my favorite claymation short remains A Close Shave.
"What's wrong with Wendsleydale?"
Friday, January 14, 2011
Zero
I finished reading Zero: the biography of a dangerous idea this morning. It was a great read. Among other things, I learned that:
* The Babylonians' number system was base 60, and their notation obviously made sense to them, but not to me, because 1 and 60 were apparently represented by the same character.
* It was the Hindus who originally used the base-10 system that we call the Arabic numerals generally used today.
* Aristotle is to blame for fear of the number zero. His philosophy discounted the existence of nothing, or void. The Greeks were extremely afraid of nonexistence, to the point that it seeped into Christianity--which is why, when Dionysius created the Gregorian calendar, later revised by the Venerable Bede, he started with the year 1 instead of the year 0. Now we are forever confused, and just about everyone celebrated the turn of the millennium a year too early. Consequently, he also calculated Christ's birth about four years off.
* The Mayans had a much more interesting calendar. 18 months of 20 days: 0-19. Could you imagine writing zero as the date on your paper as a student?
* Pythagoras and his cult had people put to death for supposing the existence of irrational numbers, and numbers and shapes were interchangeable to the Greeks.
* The Romans' biggest contribution to mathematics was the murder of Archimedes. And they were the ones who didn't admit the existence of negative numbers. Ouch.
* Even Descartes, who formed the Cartesian plane, didn't admit negative numbers existed.
* Pascal used probability to justify having faith in God.
* A whole bunch of stuff about black holes and event horizons and wormhole theory and string theory that I understood well enough to understand it but not well enough to explain it.
And finally, in Appendix A, it is proven that
* Winston Churchill was a carrot.
* The Babylonians' number system was base 60, and their notation obviously made sense to them, but not to me, because 1 and 60 were apparently represented by the same character.
* It was the Hindus who originally used the base-10 system that we call the Arabic numerals generally used today.
* Aristotle is to blame for fear of the number zero. His philosophy discounted the existence of nothing, or void. The Greeks were extremely afraid of nonexistence, to the point that it seeped into Christianity--which is why, when Dionysius created the Gregorian calendar, later revised by the Venerable Bede, he started with the year 1 instead of the year 0. Now we are forever confused, and just about everyone celebrated the turn of the millennium a year too early. Consequently, he also calculated Christ's birth about four years off.
* The Mayans had a much more interesting calendar. 18 months of 20 days: 0-19. Could you imagine writing zero as the date on your paper as a student?
* Pythagoras and his cult had people put to death for supposing the existence of irrational numbers, and numbers and shapes were interchangeable to the Greeks.
* The Romans' biggest contribution to mathematics was the murder of Archimedes. And they were the ones who didn't admit the existence of negative numbers. Ouch.
* Even Descartes, who formed the Cartesian plane, didn't admit negative numbers existed.
* Pascal used probability to justify having faith in God.
* A whole bunch of stuff about black holes and event horizons and wormhole theory and string theory that I understood well enough to understand it but not well enough to explain it.
And finally, in Appendix A, it is proven that
* Winston Churchill was a carrot.
Monday, January 10, 2011
"Try this; your taste buds will dance and sing!"
This one is for Dad and Janeheiress, who can't see me eating anything without asking what it is.
There are many great side effects to being a serious runner, not the least of which is the necessity of eating more food. The more I run, the more I need to eat, but I'm trying to find things I like that are actually good for me. I love food. Here is a list of particularly yummy stuff:
1. Belgian waffles
2. Hummus
3. Chocolate Cream of Wheat
4. Fresh green beans
5. Fresh spinach
6. Red bell pepper
7. Pesto
8. Tortellini
9. Avocado
10. Pineapple
11. Strawberry chocolate protein smoothies
I had items 5 - 8 together for lunch today, with a side of item 4. This afternoon I'll go for another run, but today is a short day, so only 5 miles.
Life is very, very good.
There are many great side effects to being a serious runner, not the least of which is the necessity of eating more food. The more I run, the more I need to eat, but I'm trying to find things I like that are actually good for me. I love food. Here is a list of particularly yummy stuff:
1. Belgian waffles
2. Hummus
3. Chocolate Cream of Wheat
4. Fresh green beans
5. Fresh spinach
6. Red bell pepper
7. Pesto
8. Tortellini
9. Avocado
10. Pineapple
11. Strawberry chocolate protein smoothies
I had items 5 - 8 together for lunch today, with a side of item 4. This afternoon I'll go for another run, but today is a short day, so only 5 miles.
Life is very, very good.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
James Horner
My sister and I have lots of favorite phrases, but one of them now is, "back when James Horner used to be good." Because he's pretty much become the king of recycling.
I used some of my Christmas money to buy the soundtrack to The New World. I just love that movie. Love it. It is one of the most beautiful pieces of cinema ever. Terence Malick was very daring to make a movie like that, knowing full well that most people would hate it because it's "slow." To the average viewer, I guess slow equals boring. I happen to disagree.
Even though most of the music is directly copied from Braveheart, some of it is "just, like, you know, really good" (another favorite phrase). There's a part in the movie with just a simple little piano melody going on in the background. I was sure it would be on the soundtrack, in spite of not hearing it in any of the clips I caught on iTunes.
Sure enough, the part I wanted wasn't there.
I don't want to complain too much, because I really do like the soundtrack. It's nice.
But why is it that I always fall in love with the music that isn't included in the OST? Is it me? Or is it the recording companies?
Saturday, December 25, 2010
A Very Merry Christmas Dinner
Course One: Spinach Salade
This one I came up with myself. Ingredients included fresh spinach leaves, sliced radishes, sliced carrots, craisins, sliced almonds, and Italian cheese. I topped it with a very thin coat of dressing made from olive oil, apple cider vinegar, dried basil, black pepper, and minced garlic. Yum.The Main Course
The main course consisted of Roasted Muscovy Duck, puree of curried lentils, and fresh green beans. I was really stressed about the duck, having never made one or even tasted it before. I started out planning to use Julia Child's instructions in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, but I found some instructions on the duck's packaging that seemed easier and better. They had the seasonings and stuff all right, but their timing was off. It took about three times as long to cook it than what they said. Oh, well. It was a good duck. People say duck is really gamey, but I thought it was fine. In fact, I think it tastes better than turkey, and even most chicken. 
I accidentally overcooked the green beans, and that was a very big disappointment for me, because if there's anything I hate, it's overcooked vegetables. I got busy disemboweling a pomegranate, and I didn't realize the beans would cook so fast in water that had yet to achieve a rolling boil. I guess rolling boil just isn't possible in a kettle as big as the one I was using. In the end, it was okay, because Sis sprinkled swiss cheese over them, I popped them in the oven for a few more minutes, and they were great. According to her, they were the greatest green beans she's ever tasted. I'm not going to assume that just because there are lots left over people didn't like them—there was SO MUCH food, and three pounds of green beans is just not going to be finished off.The lentils were an interesting experiment. It was suggested to serve lentils with the duck, but my cookbook didn't have a recipe for them. So, I surfed the internet a little, then made one up. My family liked them, because they like curry and garlic. I guess they weren't pretty enough to be included in any photos.
Course Three: Vichyssoise
This dish was particularly exciting for me for several reasons. One, I just love potatoes. Two, I love to say the name of it—"Vichyssoise" has such a brilliant ring to it. Three, I tried it many years ago at some stranger's house, and it was just so good. My version was nothing like the other one. I am told it tasted more like gravy than soup. But it was good. I'm looking forward to the leftovers. It is made from potatoes and leeks and served cold.
Course Four: Fruit
The most aesthetic portion of dinner was the fruit. Fruit is so pretty anyway, isn't it? Preparing the pomegranate was fun, but next time I will give myself longer to get it done.Course Five: Lemon Tart
Again, I am either a little dim or some cookbooks just aren't very good. We had so much trouble figuring out how to make the sugar crust that I handed it over to Sis. She did a great job, but she was confused the entire time. We chilled it overnight, and I was done trying to follow the recipe in the book. So I dug through some more cookbooks and decided what to mix together that would make a good lemon tart.
Let's just say that tart is an apt description of the dessert. Next time I think I'll try to get the lemon peel finer.
Highlights:
Getting so excited to cook!
Mom got to watch John Wayne movies while I was in the kitchen.
Grandpa said "My compliments to the chef."
Pretty much everyone asked for a second piece of tart.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Conversations With Myself
Mile 1: I wore these shorts because they used to be skin tight. Why are they falling off?
Mile 2: Wow, I remember the days when I wasn't a walking snot factory. I think I'll have some more Strawberry Halls when I get home.
Mile 3: Slumdog Millionnaire is pretty cool.
Mile 4: I wonder how much longer this basketball game is going to last. At least it isn't a smutty sitcom.
Mile 5: Nothing like techno synthesized violins mixed with electric guitar. I'm sure they heard music like this all the time in the 12th Century.
Mile 6: I'm still breathing. This is good.
Mile 7: I need a dragon!!!!!
Mile 8: Maybe a breast reduction isn't a bad idea.
Mile 9: The dude next to me is running really fast. After I run a marathon, I think I'll practice running really fast. It looks fun.
Mile 10: Wait a second. Oh, they start the time over after you've been running 100 minutes.
Mile 11: Surviving.
Mile 13: I could slow down. No, that'll just mean I have to run more minutes.
Mile 14: I'm awesome.
Mile 15: Time to hobble over to the water fountain. That was fun.
Mile 2: Wow, I remember the days when I wasn't a walking snot factory. I think I'll have some more Strawberry Halls when I get home.
Mile 3: Slumdog Millionnaire is pretty cool.
Mile 4: I wonder how much longer this basketball game is going to last. At least it isn't a smutty sitcom.
Mile 5: Nothing like techno synthesized violins mixed with electric guitar. I'm sure they heard music like this all the time in the 12th Century.
Mile 6: I'm still breathing. This is good.
Mile 7: I need a dragon!!!!!
Mile 8: Maybe a breast reduction isn't a bad idea.
Mile 9: The dude next to me is running really fast. After I run a marathon, I think I'll practice running really fast. It looks fun.
Mile 10: Wait a second. Oh, they start the time over after you've been running 100 minutes.
Mile 11: Surviving.
Mile 13: I could slow down. No, that'll just mean I have to run more minutes.
Mile 14: I'm awesome.
Mile 15: Time to hobble over to the water fountain. That was fun.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
On Writing
Maria Montessori's methods stood heavily on the idea that writing comes before reading. Her little schools were made famous by the "writing explosion" that took place among the four-year-olds as they spontaneously began writing words on all the surfaces they could find. She started by teaching them their letters, but they taught themselves to put them together to make written words. Before they had even seen a book. Not only that, but within a few months of learning to put letters together and make words, they could put words together and write epistles. By themselves. A group of four-year-olds whose parents were mostly factory workers.
This is completely opposite to the approach taken in most schools. In kindergarten, kids are taught their letters and how to write their names, but the first goal is to introduce them to books.
It may sound strange that an obsessive lover of books such as myself might advocate against their use, but I think Montessori had an important idea. Not only does it operate on the assumption that tactile activities promote more thorough learning, but words mean the most when we use them to communicate with others, not when we use them to understand others.
People, especially children, are the center of their own universe. Why would a kid want to learn to read someone else's thoughts before learning how to write his/her own? Some people say it's because it's easier, and therefore comes as a step in a natural progression. But according to Montessori, children don't think of the world in terms of what is easy and what is hard. That is something that they learn later—in my opinion, later is whenever they begin to rank pop culture above their own intellect. In other words, I think laziness of any form is something we learn, not something we unlearn.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't have kids, because I would always be testing unconventional, experimental methods of education with them. I do that with cooking, too, but there's a big difference between a child's mind and a dinner dish. And even though most experimental cooking comes out rather nice, there's no guarantee that a kid wouldn't be warped by someone who used educational methods and theories that are not part of the established canon of "research based, data-driven" packages that vendors love to sell to traditional schools.
This is completely opposite to the approach taken in most schools. In kindergarten, kids are taught their letters and how to write their names, but the first goal is to introduce them to books.
It may sound strange that an obsessive lover of books such as myself might advocate against their use, but I think Montessori had an important idea. Not only does it operate on the assumption that tactile activities promote more thorough learning, but words mean the most when we use them to communicate with others, not when we use them to understand others.
People, especially children, are the center of their own universe. Why would a kid want to learn to read someone else's thoughts before learning how to write his/her own? Some people say it's because it's easier, and therefore comes as a step in a natural progression. But according to Montessori, children don't think of the world in terms of what is easy and what is hard. That is something that they learn later—in my opinion, later is whenever they begin to rank pop culture above their own intellect. In other words, I think laziness of any form is something we learn, not something we unlearn.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't have kids, because I would always be testing unconventional, experimental methods of education with them. I do that with cooking, too, but there's a big difference between a child's mind and a dinner dish. And even though most experimental cooking comes out rather nice, there's no guarantee that a kid wouldn't be warped by someone who used educational methods and theories that are not part of the established canon of "research based, data-driven" packages that vendors love to sell to traditional schools.
One Hundred Books
Lest I sound too impressed with myself, I will explain that the purpose of posting this isn't to brag about how many books I read, but to summarize a year's worth of one of my favorite hobbies. That's all my blog is about anyway—to provide an outlet for discussing the things I like to do. It's pretty egocentric, I guess. Maybe I should delete my blog again. But before I think too hard about that, I'll post my list.
It's time to evaluate the usefulness of my year, and even though reading books has only been a part of what I have done, I tend to evaluate a lot of things based on what I'm reading at the time. Some, well, quite a few if truth be told, of the books on the list below were a waste of time. I don't want to say which ones, because you never know who might come across your blog and take offense. And anyway, every book on the list was completed for a reason, at least. There are even more books that didn't make the list because I couldn't stand to read them all the way through.
Some of them were just plain comfort books. My Grandpa likes to refer to them as "intellectual chewing gum," and I've also heard the term "brain candy." An unfortunate truth I've had to accept is that sometimes I feel the need to read something to simulate positive emotions. It's not unlike going on a sugar binge, and because I'm doing physical sugar binges less and less lately, I think the amount of intellectual sugar binges might have increased (Is it a stupid thing to say that in my experience, successful efforts to become thinner are making me dumb?). But most of them were time well spent. I bolded the ones that meant the most to me, but once you start doing that, nothing fits into a category anymore.
So there, you have it. The 100 books I read in 2010. I didn't include the huge stack of picture books I lugged around in my library bag for a week, because I turned them all in before I committed their titles to memory.
And I'm not finished reading yet. I've still got 15 days.
1. The Book Thief, Marcus Zusak
2. Max, James Patterson
3. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
4. Evermore, Alyson Noel
5. Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe
6. The Alchemist, Paul Coelho
7. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Ann Brashares
8. The Whale Rider
9. Chalice, Robin McKinley
10. Song of the Sparrow, Lisa Ann Sandell
11. Sister of My Heart, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
12. Freckle Juice, Judy Blume
13. All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy
14. Catalyst, Laurie Halse Andersen
15. Among the Impostors, Margaret Peterson Haddix
16. Among the Betrayed
17. Among the Barons
18. Among the Enemy
19. Among the Brave
20. Hush, Hush, Becca Fitzpatrick
21. Among the Free, Margaret Peterson Haddix
22. Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, Helen Simonson
23. Daughter of the Forest, Juliet Marillier
24. The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco
25. Palace of Mirrors, Margaret Peterson Haddix
26. Incantation, Alice Hoffman
27. The Road, Cormac McCarthy
28. Lady Macbeth's Daughter, Lisa Klein
29. Ghengis Khan and the Making of the Modern World
30. Characters and Viewpoint, Orson Scott Card
31. Winnie the Pooh, A.A. Milne
32. The Waves, Virginia Woolf
33. Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, Anne Fadiman
34. The Curse of Chalion, Lois McMaster Bujold
35. The Doomsday Book, Connie Willis
36. Airborn, Kenneth Oppel
37. Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins
38. Agamemnon, Aeschylus
39. Beowulf, Seamus Heaney
40. Antigone, Sophocles
41. The Wall and the Wing, Laura Ruby
42. Grendel, John Gardner
43. Is Literacy Enough?, Ross
44. Coraline, Neil Gaiman
45. The Double Helix, James D. Watson
46. Childhood Education, Maria Montessori
47. The Absorbent Mind
48. The Montessori Method
49. Montessori Today: A Comprehensive Approach, Paula Polk Lillard
50. The Help, Kathryn Stockett
51. Early Literacy Storytimes @ Your Library, Ghoting and Martin-Diaz
52. Fundamentals of Children's Services, Michael Sullivan
53. Readicide, Kelly Gallagher
54. After Ever After, Jordan Sonnenblick
55. Watership Down, Richard Adams
56. Animal Farm, George Orwell
57. The Night Fairy, Laura Amy Schlitz
58. Al Capone Shines My Shoes, Gennifer Choldenko
59. Rubaiyat, Omar Khayaam
60. Distant Waves, Suzanne Weyn
61. Everlost, Neal Shusterman
62. The Ninth: Beethoven and the World of 1824, Harvey Sachs
63. The Compound, S.A. Bodeen
64. A Certain Slant of Light, Laura Whitcomb
65. The Five Love Languages, Gary Chapman
66. Xenocide, Orson Scott Card
67. Children of the Mind
68. I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You, Ally Carter
69. Shadow of the Hegemon, Orson Scott Card
70. Shadow Puppets
71. Shadow of the Giant
72. Ender in Exile
Re-reads:
73. Lord Jim, Joseph Conrad
74, War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
75. Crown Duel, Sherwood Smith
76. Persuasion, Jane Austen
77. Mansfield Park, Jane Austen
78. Avalon High, Meg Cabot
79. Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine
80. Tregaron's Daughter, Madeleine Brent
81. A Murder For Her Majesty, Beth Hilgartner
82. Rose Daughter, Robin McKinley
83. The Blue Sword, Robin McKinley
84. The Outlaws of Sherwood, Robin McKinley
85. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley
86. The Only Alien on the Planet, Kristen Randle
87. Tangerine, Edward Bloor
88. The Wednesday Wars, Gary Schmidt
89. Speak, Laurie Halse Andersen
90. Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, Jordan Sonnenblick
91. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling
92. The Aeneid, Virgil
93. Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine
94. The Girl With the Silver Eyes, Willo Davis Roberts
95. Anne's House of Dreams, L.M. Montgomery
96. Anne of Green Gables
97. Fairest, Gail Carson Levine
98. The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie
99. Little House in the Big Woods, Laura Ingalls Wilder
100. Ender's Shadow, Orson Scott Card
It's time to evaluate the usefulness of my year, and even though reading books has only been a part of what I have done, I tend to evaluate a lot of things based on what I'm reading at the time. Some, well, quite a few if truth be told, of the books on the list below were a waste of time. I don't want to say which ones, because you never know who might come across your blog and take offense. And anyway, every book on the list was completed for a reason, at least. There are even more books that didn't make the list because I couldn't stand to read them all the way through.
Some of them were just plain comfort books. My Grandpa likes to refer to them as "intellectual chewing gum," and I've also heard the term "brain candy." An unfortunate truth I've had to accept is that sometimes I feel the need to read something to simulate positive emotions. It's not unlike going on a sugar binge, and because I'm doing physical sugar binges less and less lately, I think the amount of intellectual sugar binges might have increased (Is it a stupid thing to say that in my experience, successful efforts to become thinner are making me dumb?). But most of them were time well spent. I bolded the ones that meant the most to me, but once you start doing that, nothing fits into a category anymore.
So there, you have it. The 100 books I read in 2010. I didn't include the huge stack of picture books I lugged around in my library bag for a week, because I turned them all in before I committed their titles to memory.
And I'm not finished reading yet. I've still got 15 days.
1. The Book Thief, Marcus Zusak
2. Max, James Patterson
3. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
4. Evermore, Alyson Noel
5. Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe
6. The Alchemist, Paul Coelho
7. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Ann Brashares
8. The Whale Rider
9. Chalice, Robin McKinley
10. Song of the Sparrow, Lisa Ann Sandell
11. Sister of My Heart, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
12. Freckle Juice, Judy Blume
13. All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy
14. Catalyst, Laurie Halse Andersen
15. Among the Impostors, Margaret Peterson Haddix
16. Among the Betrayed
17. Among the Barons
18. Among the Enemy
19. Among the Brave
20. Hush, Hush, Becca Fitzpatrick
21. Among the Free, Margaret Peterson Haddix
22. Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, Helen Simonson
23. Daughter of the Forest, Juliet Marillier
24. The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco
25. Palace of Mirrors, Margaret Peterson Haddix
26. Incantation, Alice Hoffman
27. The Road, Cormac McCarthy
28. Lady Macbeth's Daughter, Lisa Klein
29. Ghengis Khan and the Making of the Modern World
30. Characters and Viewpoint, Orson Scott Card
31. Winnie the Pooh, A.A. Milne
32. The Waves, Virginia Woolf
33. Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, Anne Fadiman
34. The Curse of Chalion, Lois McMaster Bujold
35. The Doomsday Book, Connie Willis
36. Airborn, Kenneth Oppel
37. Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins
38. Agamemnon, Aeschylus
39. Beowulf, Seamus Heaney
40. Antigone, Sophocles
41. The Wall and the Wing, Laura Ruby
42. Grendel, John Gardner
43. Is Literacy Enough?, Ross
44. Coraline, Neil Gaiman
45. The Double Helix, James D. Watson
46. Childhood Education, Maria Montessori
47. The Absorbent Mind
48. The Montessori Method
49. Montessori Today: A Comprehensive Approach, Paula Polk Lillard
50. The Help, Kathryn Stockett
51. Early Literacy Storytimes @ Your Library, Ghoting and Martin-Diaz
52. Fundamentals of Children's Services, Michael Sullivan
53. Readicide, Kelly Gallagher
54. After Ever After, Jordan Sonnenblick
55. Watership Down, Richard Adams
56. Animal Farm, George Orwell
57. The Night Fairy, Laura Amy Schlitz
58. Al Capone Shines My Shoes, Gennifer Choldenko
59. Rubaiyat, Omar Khayaam
60. Distant Waves, Suzanne Weyn
61. Everlost, Neal Shusterman
62. The Ninth: Beethoven and the World of 1824, Harvey Sachs
63. The Compound, S.A. Bodeen
64. A Certain Slant of Light, Laura Whitcomb
65. The Five Love Languages, Gary Chapman
66. Xenocide, Orson Scott Card
67. Children of the Mind
68. I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You, Ally Carter
69. Shadow of the Hegemon, Orson Scott Card
70. Shadow Puppets
71. Shadow of the Giant
72. Ender in Exile
Re-reads:
73. Lord Jim, Joseph Conrad
74, War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
75. Crown Duel, Sherwood Smith
76. Persuasion, Jane Austen
77. Mansfield Park, Jane Austen
78. Avalon High, Meg Cabot
79. Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine
80. Tregaron's Daughter, Madeleine Brent
81. A Murder For Her Majesty, Beth Hilgartner
82. Rose Daughter, Robin McKinley
83. The Blue Sword, Robin McKinley
84. The Outlaws of Sherwood, Robin McKinley
85. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley
86. The Only Alien on the Planet, Kristen Randle
87. Tangerine, Edward Bloor
88. The Wednesday Wars, Gary Schmidt
89. Speak, Laurie Halse Andersen
90. Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, Jordan Sonnenblick
91. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling
92. The Aeneid, Virgil
93. Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine
94. The Girl With the Silver Eyes, Willo Davis Roberts
95. Anne's House of Dreams, L.M. Montgomery
96. Anne of Green Gables
97. Fairest, Gail Carson Levine
98. The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie
99. Little House in the Big Woods, Laura Ingalls Wilder
100. Ender's Shadow, Orson Scott Card
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Good Book Without Focus
In spite of my earlier assertions, curiosity overpowered my need for emotional recovery, so I finished reading Ender in Exile today. It was good, and that's about all that needs to be said.
Except that it's not all that needs to be said. That book was all over the place. It really should have been several books, or never written. Or a series of short stories. Or something. I don't know. I'm not the professional writer, and I'm glad Card wrote it. I did like it, a lot.
How can you call it a novel, though, when there were so many plot lines—all of which were a little bit weak—that were only weakly strung together?
It's true he needed to actually go into the part where Ender finds the Hive Queen cocoon. And he fabricated a new conflict with the Admiral of the ship that took him to Shakespeare. That was good, but it was too easy. And then there was that whole thing with Ender's letter to his mom and dad. I get it, and it was a beautiful letter, and it's the kind of thing I would have wanted to include in a book series if I could write one like this. But it's not the sort of thing you can just toss into a book and leave hanging like that.
The most disappointing part was the end, where the story was so truncated. Randall/Achilles/Arkanian and his vilifying of the Hegemon and Virlomi, and his creation of the label 'Xenocide' needed more time to develop. It's pretty obvious Card was leaving a thread there for a possible future book—the story of how Arkanian Delphiki tries to make up for all the lies he propagated and all the unrest and hatred and division he caused, all because he believed the insane ravings of the woman who raised him. In a way, it parallels the burdens Ender has on his shoulders.
It also ties in to the little subplot of Dorabella and Alessandra—how much are children affected by having crazy parents? So I guess it does loosely fit in with Ender's story, because he was so conflicted about his own mother and father.
I don't mean to be overly critical of the book, but it was somewhat disappointing, only because it's not as strong as the others. Now I wonder when the next one will be finished and published. I can't wait.
Except that it's not all that needs to be said. That book was all over the place. It really should have been several books, or never written. Or a series of short stories. Or something. I don't know. I'm not the professional writer, and I'm glad Card wrote it. I did like it, a lot.
How can you call it a novel, though, when there were so many plot lines—all of which were a little bit weak—that were only weakly strung together?
It's true he needed to actually go into the part where Ender finds the Hive Queen cocoon. And he fabricated a new conflict with the Admiral of the ship that took him to Shakespeare. That was good, but it was too easy. And then there was that whole thing with Ender's letter to his mom and dad. I get it, and it was a beautiful letter, and it's the kind of thing I would have wanted to include in a book series if I could write one like this. But it's not the sort of thing you can just toss into a book and leave hanging like that.
The most disappointing part was the end, where the story was so truncated. Randall/Achilles/Arkanian and his vilifying of the Hegemon and Virlomi, and his creation of the label 'Xenocide' needed more time to develop. It's pretty obvious Card was leaving a thread there for a possible future book—the story of how Arkanian Delphiki tries to make up for all the lies he propagated and all the unrest and hatred and division he caused, all because he believed the insane ravings of the woman who raised him. In a way, it parallels the burdens Ender has on his shoulders.
It also ties in to the little subplot of Dorabella and Alessandra—how much are children affected by having crazy parents? So I guess it does loosely fit in with Ender's story, because he was so conflicted about his own mother and father.
I don't mean to be overly critical of the book, but it was somewhat disappointing, only because it's not as strong as the others. Now I wonder when the next one will be finished and published. I can't wait.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Bean Continued
I should have been prepared for the agony of Shadow of the Giant. But, stupid me, I forgot how I felt after I finished Ender's Game. Both times. This, if possible, is even worse. I'm so upset I can't really even write about it coherently, so I'm going to take a break and finish this post later. Or not at all.
****
That was a few hours ago, and I might be sufficiently collected by now. We'll see.
First of all, the whole series has thematic unity I really admire. The way the characters and situations shape themselves is so interesting.
Let's break this down. You start with a toddler whose intelligence is unlimited. He's so smart he broke the test, and he's going to keep getting smarter until he dies. Scary, a little? Well, nature intervened and also handicapped him. Just as there is no limit to his intellectual growth, there is no limit to his physical growth. You know from book one that his days are numbered. He'll die of giantism before he's 20 years old.
Not surprising that he ends up being instrumental in saving the world when he's only, what, five? But what happens next? A psycho maniac wants him dead, of course. All the psycho maniacs are after him in one way or another, but the one with the most charisma has the power, and he uses it. Bean spends a few years of his life on the run, but also figuring out how to rescue Petra, who happens to be the smartest and most aggressive girl on earth and is being held against her will by the same psycho that wants to kill Bean.
Bean, of course, succeeds in rescuing Petra, and then the inevitable happens. They fall in love. This is where the books take a serious departure from traditional sci-fi. You, as a reader, see the impossibility of this scenario, but you don't care. You want Petra to get what she wants—which is to marry Bean and have as many of his babies as possible.
Why? Because he's the smartest person who ever was, or ever will be, born. Who else's babies would she want to have?
But it's more than that. By this time, Bean has transformed out of his cold, calculating, I'm-even-smarter-and-more-ruthless-than-a-computer person and become someone startling. Oh, Bean. Oh, Julian Delphiki. We love you, and it only has a little bit to do with the fact that your days are numbered and you know it. And we weren't supposed to love you. We were supposed to fear you. But we realized that fearing you would make us enemies, so we trusted you instead—and the ultimate trust is love.
And he never asked for any of it. He was completely indifferent the entire time who loved him, who hated him, who thought they could one-up him, and who thought they could flatter themselves into his good books. Because Bean has no good books.
Meanwhile, the rest of the kids who saved the world with Ender and Bean are playing out a sick and twisted game for world dominance, against Peter Wiggin, a young man so full of his own snot that he thinks he can take over the world in spite of the fact that he was judged unfit for the battle school that made the others what they were. Or identified them for what they already were—walking weapons.
This is where it gets really complicated. Virlomi, the only woman in this whole game besides Petra, whose involvement becomes secondary after she gets pregnant with one of her and Bean's nine embryos, is abandoned in the south of India after Petra's rescue. Vir's goal? Save India from China, from Russia, and from the new united nation of Islam.
But who is in charge of these superpowers? Friends from Battle School. Vlad is in Russia, designing battle plans he's sure the Russian military will never use. Han Tsu gets himself declared emperor of China. And the Muslim nations have all united under their new Caliph Alai.
Vir's first victory is in successfully uniting India. She starts small, by piling stones in the roads and suggesting to the locals that everyone does it, has always done it, and that it is some mystical force that keeps India whole. The Wall of India. They come together as they never have before in all the history of the world, and as the unity spreads, so does her legend. She becomes a goddess, living with and for the people, and designing videos specifically meant to rip to pieces the public image of both the Chinese and the Muslims as benevolent conquerors.
But her game begins in earnest when Han Tsu tries to marry her and she realizes her value as a political piece. She topples Han Tsu's pieces, opting instead to go for Peter Wiggin, who is making great headway in creating a state known as the Free People of Earth. Peter sees that his goal isn't a merger between India and the Rest of the World, so that rejection sends her to the next person she thinks she can sway—Alai.
Vir plays dirty, and Alai falls for it both because he wants to and because he has to. Marriage between a Hindu and a Muslim throws everything off balance. It's the beginning of the end. All the other Battle School kids, one by one, realize that staying on earth will only cost millions of lives, and they leave as part of a space colonization project.
That part was particularly sad, because I really liked Vir. I especially liked the tragic twist that was created out of her own humility. She was really good at what she did—she was so good she couldn't believe her own success, and eventually ended up attributing it to powers beyond her own control, so she became a slave to fate, megalomania, and chance all at the same time. It broke her much worse than it broke any of the others.
Except Alai, maybe, because he was the one who seemed to be the most sincere in his desire to be a servant of God. He took his position believing that somehow he could lead the believers in a conquest to bring peace to the entire world through the acceptance of Islam, and he found himself betrayed by everyone—the people he led, the people who placed him in power, and worst of all, the wife that he loved. Alai's departure from earth was the one that, to me, reeked most of defeat.
In the end? What everyone knew would happen from the very beginning. Julian Delphiki's death is successfully faked, and he embarks on a relativistic voyage meant to prolong his life long enough for a mad scientist (the same one who "created" him) to come up with a cure for him and his three "handicapped" babies, leaving Petra with the five "normal" ones to live out a "normal" life. And ... Peter Wiggin wins everything. But you're happy about it, because he somehow grows on you, and you realize that he has something more important than charisma. He has an honest heart.
I understand that it's weird to review a book in this style. I've basically just given a summary with my own commentary. But that's what I do best.
My next question is, how does he come up with this stuff? I wonder if that would annoy him to know that I'm asking. But it's a valid question. I read somewhere that C.S. Lewis said that writing The Screwtape Letters was a rather torturous experience, because he had to put himself in an uncomfortable frame of mind, and in essence, be the devil. Being a writer is a thousand times more complex than being an actor, because you have to be your characters, while at the same time pulling dozens of invisible strings. How does one person handle all the emotions necessary to be all those people, when I can barely handle the emotion I feel from just reading about them?
I don't have the guts to read Ender in Exile yet. I need some recovery time first. Unfortunately, I thought I had outgrown whatever it is about me that leaves me feeling like I've been run through a blender after reading books of this type. Maybe it's something you never outgrow. It's probably a good thing for me that Shadows in Flight isn't going to be accessible for a while.
****
That was a few hours ago, and I might be sufficiently collected by now. We'll see.
First of all, the whole series has thematic unity I really admire. The way the characters and situations shape themselves is so interesting.
Let's break this down. You start with a toddler whose intelligence is unlimited. He's so smart he broke the test, and he's going to keep getting smarter until he dies. Scary, a little? Well, nature intervened and also handicapped him. Just as there is no limit to his intellectual growth, there is no limit to his physical growth. You know from book one that his days are numbered. He'll die of giantism before he's 20 years old.
Not surprising that he ends up being instrumental in saving the world when he's only, what, five? But what happens next? A psycho maniac wants him dead, of course. All the psycho maniacs are after him in one way or another, but the one with the most charisma has the power, and he uses it. Bean spends a few years of his life on the run, but also figuring out how to rescue Petra, who happens to be the smartest and most aggressive girl on earth and is being held against her will by the same psycho that wants to kill Bean.
Bean, of course, succeeds in rescuing Petra, and then the inevitable happens. They fall in love. This is where the books take a serious departure from traditional sci-fi. You, as a reader, see the impossibility of this scenario, but you don't care. You want Petra to get what she wants—which is to marry Bean and have as many of his babies as possible.
Why? Because he's the smartest person who ever was, or ever will be, born. Who else's babies would she want to have?
But it's more than that. By this time, Bean has transformed out of his cold, calculating, I'm-even-smarter-and-more-ruthless-than-a-computer person and become someone startling. Oh, Bean. Oh, Julian Delphiki. We love you, and it only has a little bit to do with the fact that your days are numbered and you know it. And we weren't supposed to love you. We were supposed to fear you. But we realized that fearing you would make us enemies, so we trusted you instead—and the ultimate trust is love.
And he never asked for any of it. He was completely indifferent the entire time who loved him, who hated him, who thought they could one-up him, and who thought they could flatter themselves into his good books. Because Bean has no good books.
Meanwhile, the rest of the kids who saved the world with Ender and Bean are playing out a sick and twisted game for world dominance, against Peter Wiggin, a young man so full of his own snot that he thinks he can take over the world in spite of the fact that he was judged unfit for the battle school that made the others what they were. Or identified them for what they already were—walking weapons.
This is where it gets really complicated. Virlomi, the only woman in this whole game besides Petra, whose involvement becomes secondary after she gets pregnant with one of her and Bean's nine embryos, is abandoned in the south of India after Petra's rescue. Vir's goal? Save India from China, from Russia, and from the new united nation of Islam.
But who is in charge of these superpowers? Friends from Battle School. Vlad is in Russia, designing battle plans he's sure the Russian military will never use. Han Tsu gets himself declared emperor of China. And the Muslim nations have all united under their new Caliph Alai.
Vir's first victory is in successfully uniting India. She starts small, by piling stones in the roads and suggesting to the locals that everyone does it, has always done it, and that it is some mystical force that keeps India whole. The Wall of India. They come together as they never have before in all the history of the world, and as the unity spreads, so does her legend. She becomes a goddess, living with and for the people, and designing videos specifically meant to rip to pieces the public image of both the Chinese and the Muslims as benevolent conquerors.
But her game begins in earnest when Han Tsu tries to marry her and she realizes her value as a political piece. She topples Han Tsu's pieces, opting instead to go for Peter Wiggin, who is making great headway in creating a state known as the Free People of Earth. Peter sees that his goal isn't a merger between India and the Rest of the World, so that rejection sends her to the next person she thinks she can sway—Alai.
Vir plays dirty, and Alai falls for it both because he wants to and because he has to. Marriage between a Hindu and a Muslim throws everything off balance. It's the beginning of the end. All the other Battle School kids, one by one, realize that staying on earth will only cost millions of lives, and they leave as part of a space colonization project.
That part was particularly sad, because I really liked Vir. I especially liked the tragic twist that was created out of her own humility. She was really good at what she did—she was so good she couldn't believe her own success, and eventually ended up attributing it to powers beyond her own control, so she became a slave to fate, megalomania, and chance all at the same time. It broke her much worse than it broke any of the others.
Except Alai, maybe, because he was the one who seemed to be the most sincere in his desire to be a servant of God. He took his position believing that somehow he could lead the believers in a conquest to bring peace to the entire world through the acceptance of Islam, and he found himself betrayed by everyone—the people he led, the people who placed him in power, and worst of all, the wife that he loved. Alai's departure from earth was the one that, to me, reeked most of defeat.
In the end? What everyone knew would happen from the very beginning. Julian Delphiki's death is successfully faked, and he embarks on a relativistic voyage meant to prolong his life long enough for a mad scientist (the same one who "created" him) to come up with a cure for him and his three "handicapped" babies, leaving Petra with the five "normal" ones to live out a "normal" life. And ... Peter Wiggin wins everything. But you're happy about it, because he somehow grows on you, and you realize that he has something more important than charisma. He has an honest heart.
I understand that it's weird to review a book in this style. I've basically just given a summary with my own commentary. But that's what I do best.
My next question is, how does he come up with this stuff? I wonder if that would annoy him to know that I'm asking. But it's a valid question. I read somewhere that C.S. Lewis said that writing The Screwtape Letters was a rather torturous experience, because he had to put himself in an uncomfortable frame of mind, and in essence, be the devil. Being a writer is a thousand times more complex than being an actor, because you have to be your characters, while at the same time pulling dozens of invisible strings. How does one person handle all the emotions necessary to be all those people, when I can barely handle the emotion I feel from just reading about them?
I don't have the guts to read Ender in Exile yet. I need some recovery time first. Unfortunately, I thought I had outgrown whatever it is about me that leaves me feeling like I've been run through a blender after reading books of this type. Maybe it's something you never outgrow. It's probably a good thing for me that Shadows in Flight isn't going to be accessible for a while.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Bean
If I were a guy and could have any name I wanted, I would choose Julian Delphiki. It's the coolest name I ever heard. So cool that I keep repeating it to myself. Julian Delphiki. Julian Delphiki. Julian Delphiki. It sounds even better in conversation.
Yeah, I also think I'm really weird.
This book series is weirding me out, though. I like it a lot—no question about that. However, it is requiring too much suspension of disbelief. I don't quite understand why, because the Ender series was just as "out there" if not more. It probably has to do with the fact that usually there is no love in science fiction. Or, at best, it's hopeless, platonic, or fraternal. I can't get past the whole Petra and Bean are married thing. Or that Bean, who was introduced to me as an undersized genius orphan street rat who went to Battle School and helped save the world from an alien invasion, is now suddenly very tall, very married, and very paternal—and all he cares about is finding the embryos he and his wife created so that she can raise them by herself after he's dead. And all this before he's even sixteen. Don't tell me it isn't weird.
I haven't finished reading Shadow of the Giant yet, but yes, I skipped to the end. Everyone is always so shocked to find out that this is a regular practice of mine, but really, I don't know if I would ever make it through most books if I didn't. I just can't handle the suspense. I rarely read so much that it gives away the climax, but it does reassure me that certain characters make it to the last page. Ominous music is now playing in my head.
Yeah, I also think I'm really weird.
This book series is weirding me out, though. I like it a lot—no question about that. However, it is requiring too much suspension of disbelief. I don't quite understand why, because the Ender series was just as "out there" if not more. It probably has to do with the fact that usually there is no love in science fiction. Or, at best, it's hopeless, platonic, or fraternal. I can't get past the whole Petra and Bean are married thing. Or that Bean, who was introduced to me as an undersized genius orphan street rat who went to Battle School and helped save the world from an alien invasion, is now suddenly very tall, very married, and very paternal—and all he cares about is finding the embryos he and his wife created so that she can raise them by herself after he's dead. And all this before he's even sixteen. Don't tell me it isn't weird.
I haven't finished reading Shadow of the Giant yet, but yes, I skipped to the end. Everyone is always so shocked to find out that this is a regular practice of mine, but really, I don't know if I would ever make it through most books if I didn't. I just can't handle the suspense. I rarely read so much that it gives away the climax, but it does reassure me that certain characters make it to the last page. Ominous music is now playing in my head.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Children of the Mind
is my new favorite book!
And ...... spoiler alert.
I'm not opposed to weird, out-there speculation about how the universe works. Card's books are full of that. But what he doesn't do is take known laws of physics and toss them out the window. I just realized, really realized, how terribly horrible are the writers and producers of such series as Star Trek. This is probably the geekiest post I've ever written—but I just can't help but be completely appalled that in the new Star Trek film they claim that Spock was able to time travel because of a black hole. GAAAHH! Why? Why?
It's just as easy to come up with some far-out, esoteric reason it happened. Why just throw in something that obviously couldn't happen and rely on the dimness of viewers to either not notice or not care? I guess part of my frustration is that I'm embarrassed I didn't notice the first time I saw it how bad the science really was.
So now I'm becoming a science fiction geek. All because a few Christmases ago I decided it was about time I seriously tried to understand science, and not just the watered-down, random textbook version I got in school (I seriously doubt I ever had a science teacher who cared about science). My first step was to go to the library and check out a book by Stephen Hawking, whose name I remembered from watching my dad watch NOVA when I was a kid. Also, because I knew my own limitations in grasping big and significant ideas, I got the version with pictures. Thus, I read (and mostly even understood) The Illustrated Theory of Everything. Talk about life-changing experiences. I no longer see myself as incapable of understanding scientific thought—I just see myself as having wasted many chances in my youth to understand scientific thought. But better late than never.
Now I tend to get most of my science from discussions with my brother, reading biographies of prominent scientists, the occasional science documentary, and science fiction books.
Aside from the implausibility of what happens in Children of the Mind, including all the instantaneous space travel, the transference of souls in and out of both natural and synthetic bodies, and inter-special cohabitation, it never broke any known rules.
And get this—just as I was convincing myself that Card's strength was not in the beauty of his writing but the pull of his ideas, he wrote one of the most beautiful passages of prose I've ever read. I almost didn't want it to be over—the part where Jane "dies" because the computer network is shut down and the "space" she inhabits isn't there anymore. First she tries to take over Ender's bodies (weird), but they fight her back. So she goes inside the Hive Queen next, which is an interesting little interlude. Finally, she goes to the Pequenino Mothertrees, and by doing so fills them with sparkly lights and helps them grow and make blossoms and fruit. They don't resent her intrusion or her energy, because they have a greater capacity for that sort of thing. It was so joyful to read.
I also really liked just about every one of Wang-mu's inner thoughts, as well as all the things she said to people. I guess I'm still a sappy romantic, because I liked the love parts too—like where Peter was analyzing whether or not he was in love with Wang-mu, and all the stuff Miro feels about Val-Jane and what happens to her. Very sweet stuff.
The other thing is that I loved the Afterword. It's completely cool.
Now I'm out of things to say, with no sophisticated way of wrapping up my thoughts, but because this is a blog and not an English paper, I'll let it end with my favorite quote from the book.
Miro, after an intense inner battle about why he does/doesn't want Jane to take over the body of Val/Ender: "I want all bad things to go away and everybody to be happy. I want my mommy. What kind of childish dolt have I become?"
And ...... spoiler alert.
I'm not opposed to weird, out-there speculation about how the universe works. Card's books are full of that. But what he doesn't do is take known laws of physics and toss them out the window. I just realized, really realized, how terribly horrible are the writers and producers of such series as Star Trek. This is probably the geekiest post I've ever written—but I just can't help but be completely appalled that in the new Star Trek film they claim that Spock was able to time travel because of a black hole. GAAAHH! Why? Why?
It's just as easy to come up with some far-out, esoteric reason it happened. Why just throw in something that obviously couldn't happen and rely on the dimness of viewers to either not notice or not care? I guess part of my frustration is that I'm embarrassed I didn't notice the first time I saw it how bad the science really was.
So now I'm becoming a science fiction geek. All because a few Christmases ago I decided it was about time I seriously tried to understand science, and not just the watered-down, random textbook version I got in school (I seriously doubt I ever had a science teacher who cared about science). My first step was to go to the library and check out a book by Stephen Hawking, whose name I remembered from watching my dad watch NOVA when I was a kid. Also, because I knew my own limitations in grasping big and significant ideas, I got the version with pictures. Thus, I read (and mostly even understood) The Illustrated Theory of Everything. Talk about life-changing experiences. I no longer see myself as incapable of understanding scientific thought—I just see myself as having wasted many chances in my youth to understand scientific thought. But better late than never.
Now I tend to get most of my science from discussions with my brother, reading biographies of prominent scientists, the occasional science documentary, and science fiction books.
Aside from the implausibility of what happens in Children of the Mind, including all the instantaneous space travel, the transference of souls in and out of both natural and synthetic bodies, and inter-special cohabitation, it never broke any known rules.
And get this—just as I was convincing myself that Card's strength was not in the beauty of his writing but the pull of his ideas, he wrote one of the most beautiful passages of prose I've ever read. I almost didn't want it to be over—the part where Jane "dies" because the computer network is shut down and the "space" she inhabits isn't there anymore. First she tries to take over Ender's bodies (weird), but they fight her back. So she goes inside the Hive Queen next, which is an interesting little interlude. Finally, she goes to the Pequenino Mothertrees, and by doing so fills them with sparkly lights and helps them grow and make blossoms and fruit. They don't resent her intrusion or her energy, because they have a greater capacity for that sort of thing. It was so joyful to read.
I also really liked just about every one of Wang-mu's inner thoughts, as well as all the things she said to people. I guess I'm still a sappy romantic, because I liked the love parts too—like where Peter was analyzing whether or not he was in love with Wang-mu, and all the stuff Miro feels about Val-Jane and what happens to her. Very sweet stuff.
The other thing is that I loved the Afterword. It's completely cool.
Now I'm out of things to say, with no sophisticated way of wrapping up my thoughts, but because this is a blog and not an English paper, I'll let it end with my favorite quote from the book.
Miro, after an intense inner battle about why he does/doesn't want Jane to take over the body of Val/Ender: "I want all bad things to go away and everybody to be happy. I want my mommy. What kind of childish dolt have I become?"
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Xenocide
There are the fans, and there are the ones who haven't got around to reading his work. I have yet to meet anyone who doesn't like Orson Scott Card's books. Well, the Ender books, anyway. I guess there are some weird, less famous ones that I've heard might be lame.
A while back, it's probably been almost ten years now, I read Ender's Game. It was an experience never to be forgotten. No other book I've ever come across has taken an idea and explored it in such a way, while at the same time creating a character I actually cared about, pretty much like I care about real people. Disturbing at multiple levels—most of which can't even surface until you've finished the book, put it aside, and utterly failed at forgetting it and moving on with your life—it stretched the boundaries of what I thought fiction books could really do and how much they actually can change you.
I've been changed by other books before, but not in such a self-aware way. The Little House on the Prairie books partially defined my childhood, L.M. Montgomery's books defined my adolescence, and Harry Potter helped pull me and keep me out of a very dark period of transition. Countless other books altered my perception of the world around me and the relationships I had formed and should form—most of them good, some of them bad. But I didn't think about it that way.
When I think about books that truly changed me, Ender's Game is always at the very top of the list. I should probably go more into why, but I don't want to, because it's a little too personal, and because I'd rather discuss Xenocide right now. For a long time, I had to recognize that I could only read a book by Card every few years or so, because when an intense personality reads an intense book, long periods of recovery time are required. So I read Ender's Game, then a few years later I read it again. A few years after that, I read Ender's Shadow, and a few years after that I read Speaker for the Dead. I got my copy of Xenocide on purpose to go to an author signing, but that, also, was a few years ago. I had to wait to start reading it when I was ready. And, contrary to my expectations, waiting a few years was not a bad thing; I could remember every character and every pertinent detail.
I just finished reading it this morning, only because last night I had a hundred pages left and was holding my eyes open with stinging tears just to get that far.
I'm sure most of my reaction to this book has to do with the fact that the author and I are members of the same faith, so I understand where his ideas are both coming from and traveling towards. But I haven't read any other books that attempt to explore and explain faith and religion with science—all at the same time throwing in dilemmas of ethics that span across planets, across villages, across religious orders, across different species, across members of the same family, and even within individuals.
What is the nature of life? Why do people care about each other? Why do people exist? How do people exist? What is free will? What is bondage? What is power? What is right? What is wrong? How much of reality is limited to our power of imagination?
He's asking the questions, and he's presenting evidence for the questions to be relevant along with evidence to provide answers. But he doesn't try to answer them.
Some authors are so open-ended you almost wish they had never brought up the questions in the first place. Others are a little too eager to wrap up their own conclusions in a box and present it to readers as if it were a great gift. A really great author leaves just enough alone. Like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg, and giving multiple arguments for either one—and at the same time wondering how vital it really is whether we know or not.
What I'm saying, then, is that Card is a great author, aside from all the stylistic fumbles he has said are relatively unimportant. He believes in substance over style, and I do agree with the overall philosophy, though I'm not convinced he's entirely correct in his approach. The book would have been much stronger if he had tighter editing (I feel patronized as a reader when the author feels the need to tell me things more than once, especially how certain people are related to others; and I was informed at least six times that Ender was Miro's step-father), and even possibly if he could employ a little more verbal subtlety in characterization.
But what's the job of a critic? In the words of Anton Ego, "the average piece of junk is worth far more than our criticism designating it so." There's plenty of junk out there in the world of books, but Xenocide isn't part of that pile.
A while back, it's probably been almost ten years now, I read Ender's Game. It was an experience never to be forgotten. No other book I've ever come across has taken an idea and explored it in such a way, while at the same time creating a character I actually cared about, pretty much like I care about real people. Disturbing at multiple levels—most of which can't even surface until you've finished the book, put it aside, and utterly failed at forgetting it and moving on with your life—it stretched the boundaries of what I thought fiction books could really do and how much they actually can change you.
I've been changed by other books before, but not in such a self-aware way. The Little House on the Prairie books partially defined my childhood, L.M. Montgomery's books defined my adolescence, and Harry Potter helped pull me and keep me out of a very dark period of transition. Countless other books altered my perception of the world around me and the relationships I had formed and should form—most of them good, some of them bad. But I didn't think about it that way.
When I think about books that truly changed me, Ender's Game is always at the very top of the list. I should probably go more into why, but I don't want to, because it's a little too personal, and because I'd rather discuss Xenocide right now. For a long time, I had to recognize that I could only read a book by Card every few years or so, because when an intense personality reads an intense book, long periods of recovery time are required. So I read Ender's Game, then a few years later I read it again. A few years after that, I read Ender's Shadow, and a few years after that I read Speaker for the Dead. I got my copy of Xenocide on purpose to go to an author signing, but that, also, was a few years ago. I had to wait to start reading it when I was ready. And, contrary to my expectations, waiting a few years was not a bad thing; I could remember every character and every pertinent detail.
I just finished reading it this morning, only because last night I had a hundred pages left and was holding my eyes open with stinging tears just to get that far.
I'm sure most of my reaction to this book has to do with the fact that the author and I are members of the same faith, so I understand where his ideas are both coming from and traveling towards. But I haven't read any other books that attempt to explore and explain faith and religion with science—all at the same time throwing in dilemmas of ethics that span across planets, across villages, across religious orders, across different species, across members of the same family, and even within individuals.
What is the nature of life? Why do people care about each other? Why do people exist? How do people exist? What is free will? What is bondage? What is power? What is right? What is wrong? How much of reality is limited to our power of imagination?
He's asking the questions, and he's presenting evidence for the questions to be relevant along with evidence to provide answers. But he doesn't try to answer them.
Some authors are so open-ended you almost wish they had never brought up the questions in the first place. Others are a little too eager to wrap up their own conclusions in a box and present it to readers as if it were a great gift. A really great author leaves just enough alone. Like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg, and giving multiple arguments for either one—and at the same time wondering how vital it really is whether we know or not.
What I'm saying, then, is that Card is a great author, aside from all the stylistic fumbles he has said are relatively unimportant. He believes in substance over style, and I do agree with the overall philosophy, though I'm not convinced he's entirely correct in his approach. The book would have been much stronger if he had tighter editing (I feel patronized as a reader when the author feels the need to tell me things more than once, especially how certain people are related to others; and I was informed at least six times that Ender was Miro's step-father), and even possibly if he could employ a little more verbal subtlety in characterization.
But what's the job of a critic? In the words of Anton Ego, "the average piece of junk is worth far more than our criticism designating it so." There's plenty of junk out there in the world of books, but Xenocide isn't part of that pile.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Love Languages
I was told to read The Five Love Languages book. Being the persuadable, suggestible person I am, I did so. I'm sure it will come in way handy some day, but today I'm just not sure why I did that. I figured out a few days ago what my love language is, and reading the book just made it more blaringly obvious. I am "Quality Time."
People sometimes assume that I'm "Words of Affirmation." Not so. I like words of affirmation. They are nice. I also like acts of service--but they are more likely to make me feel guilty than loved. Even more so with gifts. I guess it's good to know that all these years I've been beating myself up for not being more grateful when someone gives me a gift, it wasn't necessarily because I wasn't grateful, but rather that gifts don't fill my "emotional tank."
So for anyone's future reference, if you want to be in my good books, all you have to do is sit down and talk to me for a while. Not something I'm getting much of lately. Oh well. I guess I just need to learn to cope with being emotionally needy.
People sometimes assume that I'm "Words of Affirmation." Not so. I like words of affirmation. They are nice. I also like acts of service--but they are more likely to make me feel guilty than loved. Even more so with gifts. I guess it's good to know that all these years I've been beating myself up for not being more grateful when someone gives me a gift, it wasn't necessarily because I wasn't grateful, but rather that gifts don't fill my "emotional tank."
So for anyone's future reference, if you want to be in my good books, all you have to do is sit down and talk to me for a while. Not something I'm getting much of lately. Oh well. I guess I just need to learn to cope with being emotionally needy.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
On Books (Part Nine)
Have you ever gotten so into a book that when one of the characters should be hesitating about doing something, you yourself are hesitating to turn the page? It's an odd little feeling, and it happened to me yesterday while I was reading Everlost.
Finally getting around to starting the book was a good thing; it was one of those books I purchased after attending a reading motivation workshop, guaranteed to be interesting to young teens. I had ordered about 20 of them to pre-read and place on the shelves of my classroom, but I didn't read all of them right away, having also just begun graduate school. It sat there, and sat there, and sat there. I recommended it to a lot of kids as "something I heard was really good," but I always feel a little uneasy doing that when I haven't actually read it. Now I have! Just as I suspected, getting started was the hiccup—finishing it was not.
Victory for me, as I have this previously stated fear of never reading all the books on my own shelves.
There's always a sense of accomplishment after I've finished reading a book, but lately I've felt less of that when it's fiction. But now I have a whole stack of books on music that I've got to read before they're due back at the library. I think this evening, after I've finished everything I need to do for the day, I'll turn on some Mozart and get started.
Finally getting around to starting the book was a good thing; it was one of those books I purchased after attending a reading motivation workshop, guaranteed to be interesting to young teens. I had ordered about 20 of them to pre-read and place on the shelves of my classroom, but I didn't read all of them right away, having also just begun graduate school. It sat there, and sat there, and sat there. I recommended it to a lot of kids as "something I heard was really good," but I always feel a little uneasy doing that when I haven't actually read it. Now I have! Just as I suspected, getting started was the hiccup—finishing it was not.
Victory for me, as I have this previously stated fear of never reading all the books on my own shelves.
There's always a sense of accomplishment after I've finished reading a book, but lately I've felt less of that when it's fiction. But now I have a whole stack of books on music that I've got to read before they're due back at the library. I think this evening, after I've finished everything I need to do for the day, I'll turn on some Mozart and get started.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Jordan Sonnenblick
I am going to be bold and name the author and the book outright. Once I wrote a book rant about some authors, and I wasn't exactly complimentary, then the author found herself and commented. I have rarely been so disconcerted about something. And ashamed, really. Did I think authors didn't look on the internet to find out what other people are saying about them? So, Mr. Sonnenblick, if you read this, I hope you enjoy.
Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie was on a recommended new release list several years ago, and I checked it out from the public library and proceeded to read the whole book in one sitting. It had a rare quality: making me laugh while crying at the same time. I've read so many books that a lot of them tend to lose their impact, but this one still packed a punch. I started recommending it to my students, and often reading it with them. Just about everyone likes it.
What's not to like in a story about a middle school boy with a typical middle school attitude but a very big heart and very big problems? The interactions between Steven and his little brother, Jeffrey, who is fighting to survive leukemia, are indescribable in a review. You'd just have to read it.
I assumed that in spite of the way it ended, Notes from the Midnight Driver was about all the sequel it was going to get; then, late last week while browsing the shelves looking for something completely different, my eyes fell upon After Ever After. And then I read the front flap and realized it was about Jeffrey. Then, I realized I had to read it. Immediately.
Same experience as the first. I see why other reviewers referred to it as a "brave" book. It deals with some seriously controversial issues ... well, controversial for anyone who's at all interested in the past, present, and future of American public schools ... in addition to the very relevant tale of what happens after a child survives cancer.
When I first finished it, I was kind of thinking along the lines of it didn't fully resolve all, or really any, of the issues it brought up. But even after very brief reflection, I've decided that's a strength. That's what makes these stories so powerful—they just tell the story, rather than asking questions and giving cookie-cutter answers to them. There was just enough of a resolution for the book to feel complete, and to allow the reader (me, I guess) some closure.
Great book. Definitely worth investing a few hours in.
Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie was on a recommended new release list several years ago, and I checked it out from the public library and proceeded to read the whole book in one sitting. It had a rare quality: making me laugh while crying at the same time. I've read so many books that a lot of them tend to lose their impact, but this one still packed a punch. I started recommending it to my students, and often reading it with them. Just about everyone likes it.
What's not to like in a story about a middle school boy with a typical middle school attitude but a very big heart and very big problems? The interactions between Steven and his little brother, Jeffrey, who is fighting to survive leukemia, are indescribable in a review. You'd just have to read it.
I assumed that in spite of the way it ended, Notes from the Midnight Driver was about all the sequel it was going to get; then, late last week while browsing the shelves looking for something completely different, my eyes fell upon After Ever After. And then I read the front flap and realized it was about Jeffrey. Then, I realized I had to read it. Immediately.
Same experience as the first. I see why other reviewers referred to it as a "brave" book. It deals with some seriously controversial issues ... well, controversial for anyone who's at all interested in the past, present, and future of American public schools ... in addition to the very relevant tale of what happens after a child survives cancer.
When I first finished it, I was kind of thinking along the lines of it didn't fully resolve all, or really any, of the issues it brought up. But even after very brief reflection, I've decided that's a strength. That's what makes these stories so powerful—they just tell the story, rather than asking questions and giving cookie-cutter answers to them. There was just enough of a resolution for the book to feel complete, and to allow the reader (me, I guess) some closure.
Great book. Definitely worth investing a few hours in.
Random Stuff
I found out today that it's official. My Professional Portfolio passed! I am so relieved. That was just one of the many things looming over my head lately that I've been trying not to worry about. Check off the list, and move on.
This morning I found out that it's a lot harder to keep running after a big event. I tried to rest up yesterday, especially considering it was the Sabbath. Then I got up to go to the gym, and after just one mile I was a little tuckered. I stopped and did a bunch of crunches and triceps work, then got back on the treadmill for 2 more miles. In a way, that feels wimpy, but in another way it feels like a great victory.
This morning I found out that it's a lot harder to keep running after a big event. I tried to rest up yesterday, especially considering it was the Sabbath. Then I got up to go to the gym, and after just one mile I was a little tuckered. I stopped and did a bunch of crunches and triceps work, then got back on the treadmill for 2 more miles. In a way, that feels wimpy, but in another way it feels like a great victory.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
You Did It!
"You did it! You did it!
You said that you would do it,
and indeed you did!
I thought that you would rue it,
I doubted you'd do it.
But now I must admit it
That succeed you did!"
I should get a medal ... wait, I did!
Here are all the details on the Bud E. Bee Boo Run that nobody's really interested in. First, I don't really want to do another running event all on my own. Everyone else there either had a team or had people there to support them. The nice thing about this one was that it was a community event and a few people were really nice, and the beneficiaries were the mentally handicapped—and they were the super sweet people handing out water and Gatorade. Also the ones bestowing medals at the finish line (yay!).
I should say that with all I've read and observed about runners, I was not in denial about the fact that I'm slow—really, really slow. However, I didn't exactly plan on being the very last to finish, and about a fourth of the way through the run, I realized that I might be the last to finish. The good thing was that I had paced myself well enough that I could increase my speed over the second half. In fact, I left 6 people in the dust, and the last 2 miles were probably my fastest. That was a little surprising, but definitely in a good way. I think I'll employ the same strategy when I do a full Marathon.
Well, actually, when I do a full Marathon, I don't think I'll worry about speed at all. I think I'll let myself come in dead last if that's what it takes to finish.
Doing a half Marathon really wasn't that hard. Not, at least, any harder than tacking on an extra mile to my weekly run. I remember someone saying that it's the training that's hard, not the actual event. I would have to agree. It's taken a lot more discipline and concentration than I've put into very many things before.
A few other random things I observed about the experience—I picked a good location. This little town had lots of gradual ups and downs. The hills were slightly challenging, but I just leaned forward, switched to the next song on my iPod, and kept going. One hill in particular looked very long and steep from a certain vantage point, but by the time I got to it (both times), it hardly even seemed like a hill. Interesting.
Also, they have it arranged so that when you get a drink of water you can just throw your cup on the ground. I don't care to do that, even though I know it's socially acceptable in that situation. So I just crumple my cup and hold it in my hand until I get to a trash bin. I realized that I like having something to hold in my hand. It's comforting and encouraging, for whatever reason, to hold my iPod in one hand and a crumpled up cup in the other.
Until the wax coating on the cup deteriorates and the paper starts to come off on your skin.
But by that time, I had usually found a trash bag. I guess when you don't have a person to hold your hand, you resort to cardboard cups. Hehe.
One other very funny part was that when I was nearing the finish line and everyone was cheering for me, the finish line sort of collapsed. It was one of those plastic air-balloon finish line arches, like a piece of a bounce house or something. Well, it fell over. But they got it back up just in time for me to run under it. That was great fun.
Finally, here are the credits:
Heavenly Father, for giving me EVERYTHING, including a healthy body and lovely weather to run in.
My family, who even though several of them could have cared less, still pretended to support me.
Florence Welsh, for her amazing voice and cool harp mixed with drums.
Howard Shore, for the trailer music to Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King
"Sweet Disposition," by Temper Trap
Apple, for inventing the iPod classic, in which I can store my entire music library and lots of movies, as well as create a nice playlist for running.
New Balance, for selling a bra that doesn’t cut me
Asics, for great running shoes
Old Navy, for cool stretchy yoga shorts
Everyone who offered sweet, inspiring words of encouragement
You said that you would do it,
and indeed you did!
I thought that you would rue it,
I doubted you'd do it.
But now I must admit it
That succeed you did!"
I should get a medal ... wait, I did!
Here are all the details on the Bud E. Bee Boo Run that nobody's really interested in. First, I don't really want to do another running event all on my own. Everyone else there either had a team or had people there to support them. The nice thing about this one was that it was a community event and a few people were really nice, and the beneficiaries were the mentally handicapped—and they were the super sweet people handing out water and Gatorade. Also the ones bestowing medals at the finish line (yay!).
I should say that with all I've read and observed about runners, I was not in denial about the fact that I'm slow—really, really slow. However, I didn't exactly plan on being the very last to finish, and about a fourth of the way through the run, I realized that I might be the last to finish. The good thing was that I had paced myself well enough that I could increase my speed over the second half. In fact, I left 6 people in the dust, and the last 2 miles were probably my fastest. That was a little surprising, but definitely in a good way. I think I'll employ the same strategy when I do a full Marathon.
Well, actually, when I do a full Marathon, I don't think I'll worry about speed at all. I think I'll let myself come in dead last if that's what it takes to finish.
Doing a half Marathon really wasn't that hard. Not, at least, any harder than tacking on an extra mile to my weekly run. I remember someone saying that it's the training that's hard, not the actual event. I would have to agree. It's taken a lot more discipline and concentration than I've put into very many things before.
A few other random things I observed about the experience—I picked a good location. This little town had lots of gradual ups and downs. The hills were slightly challenging, but I just leaned forward, switched to the next song on my iPod, and kept going. One hill in particular looked very long and steep from a certain vantage point, but by the time I got to it (both times), it hardly even seemed like a hill. Interesting.
Also, they have it arranged so that when you get a drink of water you can just throw your cup on the ground. I don't care to do that, even though I know it's socially acceptable in that situation. So I just crumple my cup and hold it in my hand until I get to a trash bin. I realized that I like having something to hold in my hand. It's comforting and encouraging, for whatever reason, to hold my iPod in one hand and a crumpled up cup in the other.
Until the wax coating on the cup deteriorates and the paper starts to come off on your skin.
But by that time, I had usually found a trash bag. I guess when you don't have a person to hold your hand, you resort to cardboard cups. Hehe.
One other very funny part was that when I was nearing the finish line and everyone was cheering for me, the finish line sort of collapsed. It was one of those plastic air-balloon finish line arches, like a piece of a bounce house or something. Well, it fell over. But they got it back up just in time for me to run under it. That was great fun.
Finally, here are the credits:
Heavenly Father, for giving me EVERYTHING, including a healthy body and lovely weather to run in.
My family, who even though several of them could have cared less, still pretended to support me.
Florence Welsh, for her amazing voice and cool harp mixed with drums.
Howard Shore, for the trailer music to Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King
"Sweet Disposition," by Temper Trap
Apple, for inventing the iPod classic, in which I can store my entire music library and lots of movies, as well as create a nice playlist for running.
New Balance, for selling a bra that doesn’t cut me
Asics, for great running shoes
Old Navy, for cool stretchy yoga shorts
Everyone who offered sweet, inspiring words of encouragement
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